Голодные игры

           Itremindsmeoftheminesandmyfather,trapped,unabletoreachsunlight,buriedforeverinthedarkness.

           Thetrainfinallybeginstoslowandsuddenlybrightlightfloodsthecompartment.Wecan’thelpit.BothPeetaandIruntothewindowtoseewhatwe’veonlyseenontelevision,theCapitol,therulingcityofPanem.Thecamerashaven’tliedaboutitsgrandeur.Ifanything,theyhavenotquitecapturedthemagnificenceoftheglisteningbuildingsinarainbowofhuesthattowerintotheair,theshinycarsthatrolldownthewidepavedstreets,theoddlydressedpeoplewithbizarrehairandpaintedfaceswhohavenevermissedameal.Allthecolorsseemartificial,thepinkstoodeep,thegreenstoobright,theyellowspainfultotheeyes,liketheflatrounddisksofhardcandywecanneveraffordtobuyatthetinysweetshopinDistrict12.

           Thepeoplebegintopointatuseagerlyastheyrecognizeatributetrainrollingintothecity.Istepawayfromthewindow,sickenedbytheirexcitement,knowingtheycan’twaittowatchusdie.ButPeetaholdshisground,actuallywavingandsmilingatthegawkingcrowd.Heonlystopswhenthetrainpullsintothestation,blockingusfromtheirview.

           Heseesmestaringathimandshrugs."Whoknows?"hesays."Oneofthemmayberich."

           Ihavemisjudgedhim.Ithinkofhisactionssincethereapingbegan.Thefriendlysqueezeofmyhand.HisfathershowingupwiththecookiesandpromisingtofeedPrim.didPeetaputhimuptothat?Histearsatthestation