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as I drift off。
But tomorrow is no better in terms of weather。 The deluge continues as if the Gamemakers are intent on washing us all away。 The thunderˇs so powerful it seems to shake the ground。 Peetaˇs considering heading out anyway to scavenge for food； but I tell him in this storm it would be pointless。 He wonˇt be able to see three feet in front of his face and heˇll only end up getting soaked to the skin for his troubles。 He knows Iˇm right； but the gnawing in our stomachs is being painful。
The day drags on turning into evening and thereˇs no break in the weather。 Haymitch is our only hope； but nothing is forthing； either from lack of money everything will cost an exorbitant amount or because heˇs dissatisfied with our performance。 Probably the latter。 Iˇd be the first to admit weˇre not exactly riveting today。 Starving； weak from injuries； trying not to reopen wounds。 Weˇre sitting huddled together wrapped in the sleeping bag； yes； but mostly to keep warm。 The most exciting thing either of us does is nap。
Iˇm not really sure how to ramp up the romance。 The kiss last night was nice； but working up to another will take some forethought。 There are girls in the Seam； some of the merchant girls； too； who navigate these waters so easily。 But Iˇve never had much time or use for it。 Anyway； just a kiss isnˇt enough anymore clearly because if it was weˇd have gotten food last night。 My instincts tell me Haymitch isnˇt just looking for physical affection； he wants something more personal。 The sort of stuff he was trying to get me to tell about myself when we were practicing for the interview。 Iˇm rotten at it； but Peetaˇs not。 Maybe the best approach is to get him talking。
¨Peeta；〃 I say lightly。 ¨You said at the interview youˇd had a crush on me forever。 When did forever start？〃
¨Oh； letˇs see。 I guess the first day of school。 We were five。 You had on a red plaid dress and your hair 。 。 。 it was in two braids instead of one。 My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up；〃 Peeta says。
¨Your father？ Why？〃 I ask。
¨He said； ˉSee that little girl？ I wanted to marry her mother； but she ran off with a coal miner；ˇ〃 Peeta says。
¨What？ Youˇre making that up！〃 I exclaim。
¨No； true story；〃 Peeta says。 ¨And I said； ˉA coal miner？ Why did she want a coal miner if she couldˇve had you？ˇ And he said； ˉBecause when he sings 。 。 。 even the birds stop to listen。ˇ〃
¨Thatˇs true。 They do。 I mean； they did；〃 I say。 Iˇm stunned and surprisingly moved； thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta。 It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing； my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think itˇs a waste of time。 It might be because it reminds me too much of my father。
¨So that day； in music assembly； the teacher asked who knew the valley song。 Your hand shot right up in the air。 She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us。 And I swear； every bird outside the windows fell silent；〃 Peeta says。
¨Oh； please；〃 I say； laughing。
¨No； it happened。 And right when your song ended； I knew just like your mother I was a goner；〃 Peeta says。 ¨Then for the next eleven years； I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you。〃
¨Without success；〃 I add。
¨Without success。 So； in a way； my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck；〃 says Peeta。
For a moment； Iˇm almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me。 Because weˇre supposed to be making up this stuff； playing at being in love not actually being in love。 But Peetaˇs story has a ring of truth to it。 That part about my father and the birds。 And I did sing the first day of school； although I donˇt remember the song。 And that red plaid dress 。 。 。 there was one； a hand…me…down to Prim that got washed to rags after my fatherˇs death。
It would explain another thing； too。 Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day。 So； if those details are true 。 。 。 could it all be true？
¨You have a 。 。 。 remarkable memory；〃 I say haltingly。
¨I remember everything about you；〃 says Peeta； tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear。 ¨Youˇre the one who wasnˇt paying attention。〃
¨I am now；〃 I say。
¨Well； I donˇt have much petition here；〃 he says。
I want to draw away； to close those shutters again； but I know I canˇt。 Itˇs as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear； ¨Say it！ Say it！〃
I swallow hard and get the words out。 ¨You donˇt have much petition anywhere。〃 And this time； itˇs me who leans in。
Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside makes us jump。 My bow es up； the arrow ready to fly； but thereˇs no other sound。 Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop。 Before I can stop him； lieˇs out in the rain； then handing something in to me。 A silver parachute attached to a basket。 I rip it open at once and inside thereˇs a feast fresh rolls； goat cheese； apples； and best of all； a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice。 The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer。
Peeta wriggles back inside； his face lit up like the sun。 ¨I guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve。〃
¨I guess so；〃 I answer。
But in my head I can hear Haymitchˇs smug； if slightly exasperated； words； ¨Yes； thatˇs what Iˇm looking lot； sweetheart。〃
23
Every cell in my body wants me to dig into the stew and cram it； handful by handful into my mouth。 But Peetaˇs voice stops me。 ¨We better take it slow on that stew。 Remember the first night on the train？ The rich food made me sick and I wasnˇt even starving then。〃
¨Youˇre right。 And I could just inhale the whole thing！〃 I say regretfully。 But I donˇt。 We are quite sensible。 We each have a roll； half an apple； and an egg…size serving of stew and rice。 I make myself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls they even sent us silverware and plates savoring each bite。 When we finish； I stare longingly at the dish。 ¨I want more。〃
¨Me； too。 Tell you what。 We wait an hour； if it stays down； then we get another serving；〃 Peeta says。
¨Agreed；〃 I say。 ¨Itˇs going to be a long hour。〃
¨Maybe not that long；�