the hunger games-饥饿游戏(英文版)-第8部分

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We　go　to　another　partment　to　watch　the　recap　of　the　reapings　across　Panem。　They　try　to　stagger　them　throughout　the　day　so　a　person　could　conceivably　watch　the　whole　thing　live；　but　only　people　in　the　Capitol　could　really　do　that；　since　none　of　them　have　to　attend　reapings　themselves。
One　by　one；　we　see　the　other　reapings；　the　names　called；　（the　volunteers　stepping　forward　or；　more　often；　not。　We　examine　the　faces　of　the　kids　who　will　be　our　petition。　A　few　stand　out　in　my　mind。　A　monstrous　boy　who　lunges　forward　to　volunteer　from　District　2。　A　fox…faced　girl　with　sleek　red　hair　from　District　5。　A　boy　with　a　crippled　foot　from　District　10。　And　most　hauntingly；　a　twelve…year…old　girl　from　District　11。　She　has　dark　brown　skin　and　eyes；　but　other　than　that；　sheˇs　very　like　Prim　in　size　and　demeanor。　Only　when　she　mounts　the　stage　and　they　ask　for　volunteers；　all　you　can　hear　is　the　wind　whistling　through　the　decrepit　buildings　around　her。　Thereˇs　no　one　willing　to　take　her　place。
Last　of　all；　they　show　District　12。　Prim　being　called；　me　running　forward　to　volunteer。　You　canˇt　miss　the　desperation　in　my　voice　as　I　shove　Prim　behind　me；　as　if　Iˇm　afraid　no　one　will　hear　and　theyˇll　take　Prim　away。　But；　of　course；　they　do　hear。　I　see　Gale　pulling　her　off　me　and　watch　myself　mount　the　stage。　The　mentators　are　not　sure　what　to　say　about　the　crowdˇs　refusal　to　applaud。　The　silent　salute。　One　says　that　District　12　has　always　been　a　bit　backward　but　that　local　customs　can　be　charming。　As　if　on　cue；　Haymitch　falls　off　the　stage；　and　they　groan　ically。　Peetaˇs　name　is　drawn；　and　he　quietly　takes　his　place。　We　shake　hands。　They　cut　to　the　anthem　again；　and　the　pro…gram　ends。
Effie　Trinket　is　disgruntled　about　the　state　her　wig　was　in。　¨Your　mentor　has　a　lot　to　learn　about　presentation。　A　lot　about　televised　behavior。〃
Peeta　unexpectedly　laughs。　¨He　was　drunk；〃　says　Peeta。　¨Heˇs　drunk　every　year。〃
¨Every　day；〃　I　add。　I　canˇt　help　smirking　a　little。　Effie　Trinket　makes　it　sound　like　Haymitch　just　has　somewhat　rough　manners　that　could　be　corrected　with　a　few　tips　from　her。　
¨Yes；〃　hisses　Effie　Trinket。　¨How　odd　you　two　find　it　amusing。　You　know　your　mentor　is　your　lifeline　to　the　world　in　these　Games。　The　one　who　advises　you；　lines　up　your　sponsors；　and　dictates　the　presentation　of　any　gifts。　Haymitch　can　well　be　the　difference　between　your　life　and　your　death！〃
Just　then；　Haymitch　staggers　into　the　partment。　¨I　miss　supper？〃　he　says　in　a　slurred　voice。　Then　he　vomits　all　over　the　expensive　carpet　and　falls　in　the　mess。
¨So　laugh　away！〃　says　Effie　Trinket。　She　hops　in　her　pointy　shoes　around　the　pool　of　vomit　and　flees　the　room。

4
For　a　few　moments；　Peeta　and　I　take　in　the　scene　of　our　mentor　trying　to　rise　out　of　the　slippery　vile　stuff　from　his　stomach。　The　reek　of　vomit　and　raw　spirits　almost　brings　my　dinner　up。　We　exchange　a　glance。　Obviously　Haymitch　isnˇt　much；　but　Effie　Trinket　is　right　about　one　thing；　once　weˇre　in　the　arena　heˇs　all　weˇve　got。　As　if　by　some　unspoken　agreement；　Peeta　and　I　each　take　one　of　Haymitchˇs　arms　and　help　him　to　his　feet。
¨I　tripped？〃　Haymitch　asks。　¨Smells　bad。〃　He　wipes　his　hand　on　his　nose；　smearing　his　face　with　vomit。
¨Letˇs　get　you　back　to　your　room；〃　says　Peeta。　¨Clean　you　up　a　bit。〃
We　half…lead　half…carry　Haymitch　back　to　his　partment。　Since　we　canˇt　exactly　set　him　down　on　the　embroidered　bedspread；　we　haul　him　into　the　bathtub　and　turn　the　shower　on　him。　He　hardly　notices。
¨Itˇs　okay；〃　Peeta　says　to　me。　¨Iˇll　take　it　from　here。〃　I　canˇt　help　feeling　a　little　grateful　since　the　last　thing　I　want　to　do　is　strip　down　Haymitch；　wash　the　vomit　out　of　his　chest　hair；　and　tuck　him　into　bed。　Possibly　Peeta　is　trying　to　make　a　good　impression　on　him；　to　be　his　favorite　once　the　Games　begin。　But　judging　by　the　state　heˇs　in；　Haymitch　will　have　no　memory　of　this　tomorrow。
¨All　right；〃　I　say。　¨I　can　send　one　of　the　Capitol　people　to　help　you。〃　Thereˇs　any　number　on　the　train。　Cooking　lor　us。　Waiting　on　us。　Guarding　us。　Taking　care　of　us　is　their　job。
¨No。　I　donˇt　want　them；〃　says　Peeta。
I　nod　and　head　to　my　own　room。　I　understand　how　Peeta　feels。　I　canˇt　stand　the　sight　of　the　Capitol　people　myself。　But　making　them　deal　with　Haymitch　might　be　a　small　form　of　revenge。　So　Iˇm　pondering　the　reason　why　he　insists　on　taking　care　of　Haymitch　and　all　of　a　sudden　I　think；　Itˇs　because　heˇs　being　kind。　Just　as　he　was　kind　to　give　me　the　bread。
The　idea　pulls　me　up　short。　A　kind　Peeta　Mellark　is　far　more　dangerous　to　me　than　an　unkind　one。　Kind　people　have　a　way　of　working　their　way　inside　me　and　rooting　there。　And　I　canˇt　let　Peeta　do　this。　Not　where　weˇre　going。　So　I　decide；　from　this　moment　on；　to　have　as　little　as　possible　to　do　with　the　bakerˇs　son。
When　I　get　back　to　my　room；　the　train　is　pausing　at　a　platform　to　refuel。　I　quickly　open　the　window；　toss　the　cookies　Peetaˇs　father　gave　me　out　of　the　train；　and　slam　the　glass　shut。　No　more。　No　more　of　either　of　them。　
Unfortunately；　the　packet　of　cookies　hits　the　ground　and　bursts　open　in　a　patch　of　dandelions　by　the　track。　I　only　see　the　image　for　a　moment；　because　the　train　is　off　again；　but　itˇs　enough。　Enough　to　remind　me　of　that　other　dandelion　in　the　school　yard　years　ago　。　。　。
I　had　just　turned　away　from　Peeta　Mellarkˇs　bruised　face　when　I　saw　the　dandelion　and　I　knew　hope　wasnˇt　lost。　I　plucked　it　carefully　and　hurried　home。　I　grabbed　a　bucket　and　Primˇs　hand　and　headed　to　the　Meadow　and　yes；　it　was　dotted　with　the　golden…headed　weeds。　After　weˇd　harvested　those；　we　scrounged　along　inside　the　fence　for　probably　a　mile　until　weˇd　filled　the　bucket　with　the　dandelion　greens；　stems；　and　flowers。　That　night；　we　gorged　ourselves　on　dandelion　salad　and　the　rest　of　the　bakery　bread。
¨What　else？〃　Prim　asked　me。　¨What　other　food　can　we　find？〃
¨All　kinds　of　things；〃　I　promised　her。　¨I　just　have　to　remember　them。〃
My　mother　had　a　book　sheˇd　brought　with　her　from　the　apothecary　shop。　The　pages　were　made　of　old　parchment　and　covered　in　ink　drawings　of　plants。　Neat　handwritten　blocks　told　their　names；　where　to　gather　them；　when　they　came　in　bloom；　their　medical　uses。　But　my　father　added　other　entries　to　the　book。　Plants　for　eating；　not　healing。　Dandelions；　pokeweed；　wild　onions；　pines。　Prim　and　I　spent　the　rest　of　the　night　poring　over　those　pages。
The　next　day；　we　were　off　school。　For　a　while　I　hung　around　the　edges　of　the　Meadow；　but　finally　I　worked　up　the　courage　to　go　under　the　fence。　It　was　the　first　time　Iˇd　been　there　alone；　without　my　fatherˇs　weapons　to　protect　me。　But　I　retrieved　the　small　bow　and　arrows　heˇd　made　me　from　a　hollow　tree。　I　probably　didnˇt　go　more　than　twenty　yards　into　the　woods　that　day。　Most　of　the　time；　I　perched　up　in　the　branches　of　an　old　oak；　hoping　for　game　to　e　by。　After　several　hours；　I　had　the　good　luck　to　kill　a　rabbit。
Iˇd　shot　a　few　rabbits　before；　with　my　fatherˇs　guidance。　But　this　Iˇd　done　on　my　own。
We　hadnˇt　had　meat　in　months。　The　sight　of　the　rabbit　seemed　to　stir　something　in　my　mother。　She　roused　herself；　skinned　the　carcass；　and　made　a　stew　with　the　meat　and　some　more　greens　Prim　had　gathered。　Then　she　acted　confused　and　went　back　to　bed；　but　when　the　stew　was　done；　we　made　her
eat　a　bowl。
The　woods　became　our　savior；　and　each　day　I　went　a　bit　farther　into　its　arms。　It　was　slow…going　at　first；　but　I　was　determined　to　feed　us。　I　stole　eggs　from　nests；　caught　fish　in　s；　sometimes　managed　to　shoot　a　squirrel　or　rabbit　for　stew；　and　gathered　the　various　plants　that　sprung　up　beneath　my　feet。　Plants　are　tricky。　Many　are　edible；　but　one　false　mouthful　and　youˇre　dead。　I　checked　and　double…checked　the　plants　I　harvested　with　my　fatherˇs　pictures。　I　kept　us　alive。
Any　sign　of　danger；　a　distant　howl；　the　inexplicable　break　of　a　branch；　sent　me　flying　back　to　the　fence　at　first。　Then　I　began　to　risk　climbing　trees　to　escape　the　wild　dogs　that　quickly　got　bored　and　moved　on。　Bears　and　cats　lived　deeper　in；　perhaps　disliking　the　sooty　reek　of　our　district。
On　May　8th；　I　went　to　the　Justice　Building；　signed　up　for　my　tesserae；　and　pulled　home　my　first　batch　of　grain　and　oil　in　Primˇs　toy　wagon。　On　the　eighth　of　every　month；　I　was　entitled　to　do　the　same。　I　couldnˇt　stop　hunting　and　gathering；　of　course。　The　grain　was　not　enough　to　live　on；　and　there　were　other　things　to　buy；　soap　and　milk　and　thread。　What　we　didnˇt　absolutely　have　to　eat；　I　began　to　trade　at　the　Hob。　It　was　frightening　to　enter　that　place　without　my　father　at　my　side；　but　people　had　respected　him；　and　they　accepted　me。　Game　was　game　after　all；　no　matter　whoˇd　shot　it。　I　also　sold　at　the　back　doors　of　the　wealthier　clients　in　town；　trying　to　remember　what　my　father　had　told　me　and　learning　a　few　new　tricks　as　well。　The　butcher　would　buy　my　rabbits　but　not　squirrels。　The　baker　enjoyed　squirrel　but　would　only　trade　for　one　if　his　wife　wasnˇt　around。　The　Head　Peacekeeper　loved　wild　turkey。　The　mayor　had　a　passion　for　strawberries。
In　late　summer；　I　was　washing　up　in　a　pond　when　I　noticed　the　plants　growing　around　me。　Tall　with　leaves　like　arrowheads。　Blossoms　with　three　white　petals。　I　knelt　down　in　the　water；　my　fingers　digging　into　the　soft　mud；　and　I　pulle