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“Besides, he’s our best chance of finding her.” It takes me a moment to register that the “her” they’re referring to is me. “Why? You think she bought into that sappy romance stuff?”
but for a moment I lie there, digesting what I’ve heard. Not only is Peeta with the Careers, he’s helping them find me. The simple-minded girl who has to be taken seriously because of her eleven. Because she can use a bow and arrow. Which Peeta knows better than anyone.
Bro peeta u little traitor
I pause a second, giving the cameras time to lock on me. Then I cock my head slightly to the side and give a knowing smile. There! Let them figure out what that means!
Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.
She calls to the others for help but, of course, no one returns.
“Are you mad?” He’s prodding me with the shaft of the spear now. “Get up! Get up!” I rise, but he’s still pushing at me. What? What is going on? He shoves me away from him hard. “Run!” he screams. “Run!”
Ok omg he just saved her maybe hess not that bad afterall!!!!?!?
Peeta Mellark just saved my life.
And suddenly, I’m not thinking of Gale but of Peeta and … Peeta! He saved my life! I think. Because by the time we met up, I couldn’t tell what was real and what the tracker-jacker venom had caused me to imagine. But if he did, and my instincts tell me he did, what for? Is he simply working the Lover Boy angle he initiated at the interview? Or was he actually trying to protect me? And if he was, what was he doing with those Careers in the first place? None of it makes sense.
She reminds me of Prim.
Of course, this kind of deal can only be temporary, but neither of us mentions that.
“No, they’re not. That’s the problem,” I agree. And for the first time, I have a plan. A plan that isn’t motivated by the need for flight and evasion. An offensive plan. “I think we’re going to have to fix that, Rue.”
Rue has decided to trust me wholeheartedly.
Needling me, at the very back of my mind, is the obvious. Both of us can’t win these Games. But since the odds are still against either of us surviving, I manage to ignore the thought.
How comforting the presence of another human being can be.
“When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes.”
It’s that quick. The death of the boy from District 3.
She just has time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body.
NOO RUEEE
“You have to win,” she says. “I’m going to. Going to win for both of us now,”
I promise. I
Rue’s cannon fires.
noooooo nooonsksjdhss
can’t stop looking at Rue, smaller than ever, a baby animal curled up in a nest of netting. I can’t bring myself to leave her like this.
It’s the Capitol I hate, for doing this to all of us.
I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a part of every tribute they can’t own. That Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I.
How many would’ve had to do without to scrape up a coin to put in the collection for this one loaf? It had been meant for Rue, surely. But instead of pulling the gift when she died, they’d authorized Haymitch to give it to me. As a thank you? Or because, like me, they don’t like to let debts go unpaid? For whatever reason, this is a first. A district gift to a tribute who’s not your own.
Six of us left, I think. Only six.
But I told Rue I’d be there. For both of us. And somehow that seems even more important than the vow I gave Prim.
I really think I stand a chance of doing it now. Winning.
I don’t know why I should even care about the boy. Then I realize … he was my first kill.
I killed a boy whose name I don’t even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him. His friends call for my blood. Maybe he had a girlfriend who really believed he would come back…
Under the new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive.
The news sinks in. Two tributes can win this year. If they’re from the same district. Both can live. Both of us can live. Before I can stop myself, I call out Peeta’s name.
Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me.
“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me any time you feel like it.”
Ugh i love him
Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. This is probably overdue anyway, since he’s right, we are supposed to be madly in love.
“For what? Nothing’s going on here,” he says. “Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.”
Even as he fades away, I can see in his eyes what I’ve done is unforgivable.
“You better run now, Fire Girl,” says Thresh.
“He let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say.
“Thresh is dead,” says Peeta.
“All right. Because that’s what happened with Rue, and I watched her die!” I say.
“Then we won, Katniss,” he says hollowly.
“Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” he says. “Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”
Omg.nooo
“Katniss,” he says. “It’s what I want.”
“Hold them out. I want everyone to see,” he says. I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta’s hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a goodbye, and we begin counting. “One.” Maybe I’m wrong. “Two.” Maybe they don’t care if we both die. “Three!” It’s too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, taking one last look at the world. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. “Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the
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Smarties
“Hold them out. I want everyone to see,” he says. I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Peeta’s hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a goodbye, and we begin counting. “One.” Maybe I’m wrong. “Two.” Maybe they don’t care if we both die. “Three!” It’s too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, taking one last look at the world. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. “Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the
...more
YESSS YYAYA
And right now, the most dangerous part of the Hunger Games is about to begin.
I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.
