“All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," says Haymitch.I can’t do anything," says Peeta, "unless you count baking bread."Sorry, I don’t. Katniss. I already know you’re handy with a knife,” says Haymitch.Not really. But I can hunt,” I say. “With a bow and arrow.”And you’re good?” asks Haymitch.I have to think about it. I’ve been putting food on the table for four years. That’s no small task. I’m not as good as my father was, but he’d had more practice. I’ve better aim than Gale, but I’ve had more practice. He’s a genius with traps and snares. “I’m all right,” I say.”

“I reach out and take his hand.“Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out,” I say mischievously.“Yeah, about that,” says Peeta, entwining his fingers in mine. “Don’t try something like that again.”“Or what?” I ask.“Or . . . or . . .” He can’t think of anything good. “Just give me a minute.”“What’s the problem?” I say with a grin.“The problem is we’re both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing,” says Peeta.“I did do the right thing,” I say.“No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?”I’m startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. “Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren’t the only one who . . . who worries about . . . what it would be like if. . .”I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home.And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.“If what, Katniss?” he says softly.I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine.“That’s exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of,” I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he’s probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.“Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me.This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious.This is the first kiss that makes me want another.But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted.“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.”

“I know. I was hoping," I say."Exactly. Because you're desperate," says Haymitch.I don't argue because, of course, he's right.”

“Peeta sighs. "Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping."Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love they can relate to.She have another fellow?" asks Caesar.I don’t know, but a lot of boys like her," says Peeta.So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouraging-ly.I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning...won’t help in my case," says Peeta.Why ever not?" says Caesar, mystified.Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out. "Because...because...she came here with me.”

“Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say. "I won't be much of a help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before.""I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather.""I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.”

“Peeta,” I say lightly. “You said at the interview you’d had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?”“Oh, let’s 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, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,’” Peeta says.“What? You’re making that up!” I exclaim.“No, true story,” Peeta says. “And I said, ‘A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you?’ And he said, ‘Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.’”“That’s true. They do. I mean, they did,” I say. I’m 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 it’s 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, I’m almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta’s 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 don’t remember the song. And that red plaid dress... there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father’s 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. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.”“I am now,” I say.“Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can’t. It’s as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, “Say it! Say it!”I swallow hard and get the words out. “You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in.”

“I say we try it,' says Peeta. 'Katniss is right.'Finnick looks at Johanna and raises his eyebrows. He will not go forward without her. 'All right,' she says finally. 'It's better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they'll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves.”