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

telling me to do exactly what the stylists tell me to do. If it was
anyone but Cinna, I might be tempted to ignore him. But after
last night’s triumph, I don’t have a lot of room to criticize his
choices.
I’m nervous about the training. There will be three days in
which all the tributes practice together. On the last afternoon,
we’ll each get a chance to perform in private before the Gamemakers.
The thought of meeting the other tributes face-toface
makes me queasy. I turn the roll I have just taken from
the basket over and over in my hands, but my appetite is gone.
When Haymitch has finished several platters of stew, he
pushes back his plate with a sigh. He takes a flask from his
pocket and takes a long pull on it and leans his elbows on the
table. “So, let’s get down to business. Training. First off, if you
like, I’ll coach you separately. Decide now.”
“Why would you coach us separately?” I ask.
“Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other
to know about,” says Haymitch.
I exchange a look with Peeta. “I don’t have any secret
skills,” he says. “And I already know what yours is, right? I
mean, I’ve eaten enough of your squirrels.”
I never thought about Peeta eating the squirrels I shot.
Somehow I always pictured the baker quietly going off and
frying them up for himself. Not out of greed. But because town
families usually eat expensive butcher meat. Beef and chicken
and horse.
“You can coach us together,” I tell Haymitch. Peeta nods.
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