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He means the ones they display in the windows. Fancy
cakes with flowers and pretty things painted in frosting.
They’re for birthdays and New Year’s Day. When we’re in the
square, Prim always drags me over to admire them, although
we’d never be able to afford one. There’s little enough beauty
in District 12, though, so I can hardly deny her this.
I look more critically at the design on Peeta’s arm. The alternating
pattern of light and dark suggests sunlight falling
through the leaves in the woods. I wonder how he knows this,
since I doubt he’s ever been beyond the fence. Has he been
able to pick this up from just that scraggly old apple tree in his
backyard? Somehow the whole thing — his skill, those inaccessible
cakes, the praise of the camouflage expert — annoys
me.
“It’s lovely. If only you could frost someone to death,” I say.
“Don’t be so superior. You can never tell what you’ll find in
the arena. Say it’s actually a gigantic cake —” begins Peeta.
“Say we move on,” I break in.
So the next three days pass with Peeta and I going quietly
from station to station. We do pick up some valuable skills,
from starting fires, to knife throwing, to making shelter. Despite
Haymitch’s order to appear mediocre, Peeta excels in
hand-to-hand combat, and I sweep the edible plants test without
blinking an eye. We steer clear of archery and weightlifting
though, wanting to save those for our private sessions.
The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day. Twenty
or so men and women dressed in deep purple robes. They sit
in the elevated stands that surround the gymnasium, some-
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