suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

“Cinna’s,” says Portia.
“Just the perfect touch of rebellion,” says Haymitch. “Very
nice.”
Rebellion? I have to think about that one a moment. But
when I remember the other couples, standing stiffly apart,
never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow
tribute did not exist, as if the Games had already begun, I
know what Haymitch means. Presenting ourselves not as adversaries
but as friends has distinguished us as much as the
fiery costumes.
“Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me
for breakfast and I’ll tell you exactly how I want you to play
it,” says Haymitch to Peeta and I. “Now go get some sleep
while the grown-ups talk.”
Peeta and I walk together down the corridor to our rooms.
When we get to my door, he leans against the frame, not
blocking my entrance exactly but insisting I pay attention to
him. “So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike
here.”
He’s asking for an explanation, and I’m tempted to give him
one. We both know he covered for me. So here I am in his debt
again. If I tell him the truth about the girl, somehow that might
even things up. How can it hurt really? Even if he repeated the
story, it couldn’t do me much harm. It was just something I
witnessed. And he lied as much as I did about Delly
Cartwright.
I realize I do want to talk to someone about the girl. Someone
who might be able to help me figure out her story.
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