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¨After he said he loved me； did you think I could be in love with him； too？〃 I ask。
¨I did；〃 says Portia。 ¨The way you avoided looking at the cameras； the blush。〃
They others chime in； agreeing。
¨Youˇre golden； sweetheart。 Youˇre going to have sponsors lined up around the block；〃 says Haymitch。
Iˇm embarrassed about my reaction。 I force myself to acknowledge Peeta。 ¨Iˇm sorry I shoved you。〃
¨Doesnˇt matter；〃 he shrugs。 ¨Although itˇs technically illegal。〃
¨Are your hands okay？〃 I ask。 ¨Theyˇll be all right；〃 he says。
In the silence that follows； delicious smells of our dinner waft in from the dining room。 ¨e on； letˇs eat；〃 says Haymitch。 We all follow him to the table and take our places。 But then Peeta is bleeding too heavily； and Portia leads him off for medical treatment。 We start the cream and rose…petal soup without them。 By the time weˇve finished； theyˇre back。 Peetaˇs hands are wrapped in bandages。 I canˇt help feeling guilty。 Tomorrow we will be in the arena。 He has done me a favor and I have answered with an injury。 Will I never stop owing him？
After dinner； we watch the replay in the sitting room。 I seem frilly and shallow； twirling and giggling in my dress； although the others assure me I am charming。 Peeta actually is charming and then utterly winning as the boy in love。 And there I am； blushing and confused； made beautiful by Cinnaˇs hands； desirable by Peetaˇs confession； tragic by circumstance； and by all accounts； unforgettable。
When the anthem finishes and the screen goes dark； a hush falls on the room。 Tomorrow at dawn； we will be roused and prepared for the arena。 The actual Games donˇt start until ten because so many of the Capitol residents rise late。 But Peeta and I must make an early start。 There is no telling how far we will travel to the arena that has been prepared for this yearˇs Games。
I know Haymitch and Effie will not be going with us。 As soon as they leave here； theyˇll be at the Games Headquarters； hopefully madly signing up our sponsors； working out a strategy on how and when to deliver the gifts to us。 Cinna and Portia will travel with us to the very spot from which we will be launched into the arena。 Still final good…byes must be said here。
Effie takes both of us by the hand and； with actual tears in her eyes； wishes us well。 Thanks us for being the best tributes it has ever been her privilege to sponsor。 And then； because itˇs Effie and sheˇs apparently required by law to say something awful； she adds ¨I wouldnˇt be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year！〃
Then she kisses us each on the cheek and hurries out； overe with either the emotional parting or the possible improvement of her fortunes。
Haymitch crosses his arms and looks us both over。
¨Any final words of advice？〃 asks Peeta。
¨When the gong sounds； get the hell out of there。 Youˇre neither of you up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia。 Just clear out； put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others； and find a source of water；〃 he says。 ¨Got it？〃
¨And after that？〃 I ask。
¨Stay alive；〃 says Haymitch。 Itˇs the same advice he gave us on the train； but heˇs not drunk and laughing this time。 And we only nod。 What else is there to say？
When I head to my room； Peeta lingers to talk to Portia。 Iˇm glad。 Whatever strange words of parting we exchange can wait until tomorrow。 My covers are drawn back； but there is no sign of the redheaded Avox girl。 I wish I knew her name。 I should have asked it。 She could write it down maybe。 Or act it out。 But perhaps that would only result in punishment for her。
I take a shower and scrub the gold paint； the makeup； the scent of beauty from my body。 All that remains of the designteamˇs efforts are the flames on my nails。 I decide to keep them as reminder of who I am to the audience。 Katniss； the girl who was on fire。 Perhaps it will give me something to hold on to in the days to e。
I pull on a thick； fleecy nightgown and climb into bed。 It takes me about five seconds to realize Iˇll never fall asleep。 And I need sleep desperately because in the arena every moment I give in to fatigue will be an invitation to death。
Itˇs no good。 One hour； two； three pass； and my eyelids refuse to get heavy。 I canˇt stop trying to imagine exactly what terrain Iˇll be thrown into。 Desert？ Swamp？ A frigid wasteland？ Above all I am hoping for trees； which may afford me some means of concealment and food and shelter； Often there are trees because barren landscapes are dull and the Games resolve too quickly without them。 But what will the climate be like？ What traps have the Gamemakers hid den to liven up the slower moments？ And then there are my fellow tributes 。 。 。
The more anxious I am to find sleep； the more it eludes me。 Finally； I am too restless to even stay in bed。 I pace the floor； heart beating too fast； breathing too short。 My room feels like a prison cell。 If I donˇt get air soon； Iˇm going to start to throw things again。 I run down the hall to the door to the roof。 Itˇs not only unlocked but ajar。 Perhaps someone forgot to close it； but it doesnˇt matter。 The energy field enclosing the roof prevents any desperate form of escape。 And Iˇm not looking to escape； only to fill my lungs with air。 I want to see the sky and the moon on the last night that no one will be hunting me。
The roof is not lit at night； but as soon as my bare feel reach its tiled surface I see his silhouette； black against the lights that shine endlessly in the Capitol。 Thereˇs quite a motion going on down in the streets； music and singing and car horns； none of which I could hear through the thick glass window panels in my room。 I could slip away now； without him noticing me； he wouldnˇt hear me over the din； But the night airˇs so sweet； I canˇt bear returning to that stuffy cage of a room。 And what difference does it make？ Whether we speak or not？
My feet move soundlessly across the tiles。 Iˇm only yard behind him when I say； ¨You should be getting some sleep。〃
He starts but doesnˇt turn。 I can see him give his head a slight shake。 ¨I didnˇt want to miss the party。 Itˇs for us； after all。〃
I e up beside him and lean over the edge of the rail。 The wide streets are full of dancing people。 I squint to make out their tiny figures in more detail。 ¨Are they in costumes？〃
¨Who could tell？〃 Peeta answers。 ¨With all the crazy clothes they wear here。 Couldnˇt sleep； either？〃
¨Couldnˇt turn my mind off；〃 I say。
¨Thinking about your family？〃 he asks。
¨No；〃 I admit a bit guiltily。 ¨All I can do is wonder about tomorrow。 Which is pointless； of course。〃 In the light from below； I can see his face now； the awkward way he holds his bandaged hands。 ¨I really am sorry about your hands。〃
¨It doesnˇt matter； Katniss；〃 he says。 ¨Iˇve never been a contender in these Games anyway。〃
¨Thatˇs no way to be thinking；〃 I say。
¨Why not？ Itˇs true。 My best hope is to not disgrace myself and 。 。 。〃 He hesitates。
¨And what？〃 I say。
¨I donˇt know how to say it exactly。 Only 。 。 。 I want to die as myself。 Does that make any sense？〃 he asks。 I shake my head。 How could he die as anyone but hi