Голодные игры

           Still,justthrowingmethebreadwasanenormouskindnessthatwouldhavesurelyresultedinabeatingifdiscovered.Icouldn’texplainhisactions.

           Weateslicesofbreadforbreakfastandheadedtoschool.Itwasasifspringhadcomeovernight.Warmsweetair.Fluffyclouds.Atschool,Ipassedtheboyinthehall,hischeekhadswelledupandhiseyehadblackened.Hewaswithhisfriendsanddidn’tacknowledgemeinanyway.ButasIcollectedPrimandstartedforhomethatafternoon,Ifoundhimstaringatmefromacrosstheschoolyard.Oureyesmetforonlyasecond,thenheturnedhisheadaway.Idroppedmygaze,embarrassed,andthat’swhenIsawit.Thefirstdandelionoftheyear.Abellwentoffinmyhead.IthoughtofthehoursspentinthewoodswithmyfatherandIknewhowweweregoingtosurvive.

           Tothisday,Icannevershaketheconnectionbetweenthisboy,PeetaMellark,andthebreadthatgavemehope,andthedandelionthatremindedmethatIwasnotdoomed.Andmorethanonce,Ihaveturnedintheschoolhallwayandcaughthiseyestrainedonme,onlytoquicklyflitaway.IfeellikeIowehimsomething,andIhateowingpeople.MaybeifIhadthankedhimatsomepoint,I’dbefeelinglessconflictednow.Ithoughtaboutitacoupleoftimes,buttheopportunityneverseemedtopresentitself.Andnowitneverwill.Becausewe’regoingtobethrownintoanarenatofighttothedeath.ExactlyhowamIsupposedtoworkinathank-youinthere?Somehowitjustwon’tseemsincereifI’mtryingtoslithisthroat