The Hunger Games (Peeta's Point of View)

Chapter Twenty Three

I observe the disquiet in Katniss' eyes turn to ravenous hunger, and I know exactly what she's about to do- it's what I'm desperately telling myself not to.

"We better take it slow on that stew," I warn her. "Remember the first night on the train? The rich stew made me sick and I wan't even starving then." My belly quivers at the memory, but it cannot suppress the hunger it cries out with.

"You're right," she sighs, "And I could just inhale the whole thing!"

We share a moment of regret. Knowing it's the only sensible thing to do, we eat slowly and, not a lot. One roll each, half of an apple each, one tiny serving of the lamb stew each. The sponsors were even generous enough to provide cutlery and plates. I remember Effie's foible of 'proper table manners', and grin at the thought that she may have insisted we were given the correct silverware.

Unlike my experience on the train, the stew and rice went down very agreeably, to say the least. I'd eat that again if I had the choice. And again, and again.

"I want more," says Katniss, gazing at the food.

We're both so hungry that if just one of us relents we'll consume all the food. But it would be foolhardy to do so. "Me too. Tell you what. We wait an hour; if it stays down then we get another serving."

"Agreed," says Katniss, though quite reluctantly. "It's going to be a long hour."

"Maybe not that long. What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you..."

"I don't remember that part," she says coyly.

"Oh, that's right. That's what I was thinking. Scoot over, I'm freezing."

The two of us occupying the sleeping bag, I feel myself grow quite hot. I am painfully aware of Katniss' head on my shoulder, her body that my arm is wrapped around, her fragile breathing. I wonder if Katniss is feeling the same way but then she says, "So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?"

Of course I noticed girls. It would be hard not to. But none of then compared to Katniss. "No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you."

"I'm sure that would thrill your parents, you liking a girl from the Seam."

"Hardly." I snort. "But I couldn't care less. Anyway, if we make it back, you won't be a girl from the Seam, you'll be a girl from the Victor's Village."

It is hard to imagine living in such ornate houses after a lifetime of District 12. They are, indeed, beautiful. I wonder, if we won, would my family expect to move in the house with me?

"But then, our only neighbour will be Haymitch!" she cries. She squirms so I hold her closer, making the position a tad more comfortable.

"Ah, that'll be nice. You and me and Haymitch. Very cosy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales."

"I told you, he hates me!" Katniss says but eventually her tone dissolves into laughter.

"Only sometimes. When he's sober, I've never heard him say one negative thing about you," I say. Generously.

"He's never sober!"

"That's right. Who am I thinking of? Oh, I know. It's Cinna who likes you. But that's mainly because you didn't try to run when he set you on fire. On the other hand, Haymitch... well, if I were you, I'd avoid Haymitch completely. He hates you." I'm sure Katniss wouldn't just run if he tried to set her on fire...