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“And even if you did, you’re not to speak to one of them unless
it’s to give an order,” says Effie. “Of course, you don’t really
know her.”
But I do know her. And now that Haymitch has mentioned
the word traitor I remember from where. The disapproval is
so high I could never admit it. “No, I guess not, I just —” I
stammer, and the wine is not helping.
Peeta snaps his fingers. “Delly Cartwright. That’s who it is. I
kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she’s
a dead ringer for Delly.”
Delly Cartwright is a pasty-faced, lumpy girl with yellowish
hair who looks about as much like our server as a beetle does
a butterfly. She may also be the friendliest person on the planet
— she smiles constantly at everybody in school, even me. I
have never seen the girl with the red hair smile. But I jump on
Peeta’s suggestion gratefully. “Of course, that’s who I was
thinking of. It must be the hair,” I say.
“Something about the eyes, too,” says Peeta.
The energy at the table relaxes. “Oh, well. If that’s all it is,”
says Cinna. “And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol
has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut.”
We eat the cake and move into a sitting room to watch the
replay of the opening ceremonies that’s being broadcast. A
few of the other couples make a nice impression, but none of
them can hold a candle to us. Even our own party lets out an
“Ahh!” as they show us coming out of the Remake Center.
“Whose idea was the hand holding?” asks Haymitch.
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