Голодные игры
Chapter 27
Butit’snotuntilwegetaroundtothemuttsthatIforgetI’moncamera.WhenCaesarasksPeetahowhis"newleg"isworkingout.
"Newleg?"Isay,andIcan’thelpreachingoutandpullingupthebottomofPeeta’spants."Oh,no,"Iwhisper,takinginthemetal-and-plasticdevicethathasreplacedhisflesh.
"Noonetoldyou?"asksCaesargently.Ishakemyhead.
"Ihaven’thadthechance,"saysPeetawithaslightshrug.
"It’smyfault,"Isay."BecauseIusedthattourniquet."
"Yes,it’syourfaultI’malive,"saysPeeta.
"He’sright,"saysCaesar."He’dhavebledtodeathforsurewithoutit."
Iguessthisistrue,butIcan’thelpfeelingupsetaboutittotheextentthatI’mafraidImightcryandthenIremembereveryoneinthecountryiswatchingmesoIjustburymyfaceinPeeta’sshirt.Ittakesthemacoupleofminutestocoaxmebackoutbecauseit’sbetterintheshirt,wherenoonecanseeme,andwhenIdocomeout,CaesarbacksoffquestioningmesoIcanrecover.Infact,heprettymuchleavesmealoneuntiltheberriescomeup.
"Katniss,Iknowyou’vehadashock,butI’vegottoask.Themomentwhenyoupulledoutthoseberries.Whatwasgoingoninyourmind.hm?"hesays.
ItakealongpausebeforeIanswer,tryingtocollectmythoughts.ThisisthecrucialmomentwhereIeitherchallengedtheCapitolorwentsocrazyattheideaoflosingPeetathatIcan’tbeheldresponsibleformyactions.Itseemstocallforabig,dramaticspeech,butallIgetoutisonealmostinaudiblesentence.
