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- Стр. 16/236
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My
parents
never
hit
us
.
I
could
n't
even
imagine
it
.
The
boy
took
one
look
back
to
the
bakery
as
if
checking
that
the
coast
was
clear
,
then
,
his
attention
back
on
the
pig
,
he
threw
a
loaf
of
bread
in
my
direction
.
The
second
quickly
followed
,
and
he
sloshed
back
to
the
bakery
,
closing
the
kitchen
door
tightly
behind
him
.
I
stared
at
the
loaves
in
disbelief
.
They
were
fine
,
perfect
really
,
except
for
the
burned
areas
.
Did
he
mean
for
me
to
have
them
?
He
must
have
.
Because
there
they
were
at
my
feet
.
Before
anyone
could
witness
what
had
happened
I
shoved
the
loaves
up
under
my
shirt
,
wrapped
the
hunting
jacket
tightly
about
me
,
and
walked
swiftly
away
.
The
heat
of
the
bread
burned
into
my
skin
,
but
I
clutched
it
tighter
,
clinging
to
life
.
By
the
time
I
reached
home
,
the
loaves
had
cooled
somewhat
,
but
the
insides
were
still
warm
.
When
I
dropped
them
on
the
table
,
Prim
's
hands
reached
to
tear
off
a
chunk
,
but
I
made
her
sit
,
forced
my
mother
to
join
us
at
the
table
,
and
poured
warm
tea
.
I
scraped
off
the
black
stuff
and
sliced
the
bread
.
We
ate
an
entire
loaf
,
slice
by
slice
.
It
was
good
hearty
bread
,
filled
with
raisins
and
nuts
.
I
put
my
clothes
to
dry
at
the
fire
,
crawled
into
bed
,
and
fell
into
a
dreamless
sleep
.
It
did
n't
occur
to
me
until
the
next
morning
that
the
boy
might
have
burned
the
bread
on
purpose
.
Might
have
dropped
the
loaves
into
the
flames
,
knowing
it
meant
being
punished
,
and
then
delivered
them
to
me
.
But
I
dismissed
this
.
It
must
have
been
an
accident
.
Why
would
he
have
done
it
?
He
did
n't
even
know
me
.
Still
,
just
throwing
me
the
bread
was
an
enormous
kindness
that
would
have
surely
resulted
in
a
beating
if
discovered
.
I
could
n't
explain
his
actions
.
We
ate
slices
of
bread
for
breakfast
and
headed
to
school
.
It
was
as
if
spring
had
come
overnight
.
Warm
sweet
air
.
Fluffy
clouds
.
At
school
,
I
passed
the
boy
in
the
hall
,
his
cheek
had
swelled
up
and
his
eye
had
blackened
.
He
was
with
his
friends
and
did
n't
acknowledge
me
in
any
way
.
But
as
I
collected
Prim
and
started
for
home
that
afternoon
,
I
found
him
staring
at
me
from
across
the
school
yard
.
Our
eyes
met
for
only
a
second
,
then
he
turned
his
head
away
.
I
dropped
my
gaze
,
embarrassed
,
and
that
's
when
I
saw
it
.
The
first
dandelion
of
the
year
.
A
bell
went
off
in
my
head
.
I
thought
of
the
hours
spent
in
the
woods
with
my
father
and
I
knew
how
we
were
going
to
survive
.
To
this
day
,
I
can
never
shake
the
connection
between
this
boy
,
Peeta
Mellark
,
and
the
bread
that
gave
me
hope
,
and
the
dandelion
that
reminded
me
that
I
was
not
doomed
.
And
more
than
once
,
I
have
turned
in
the
school
hallway
and
caught
his
eyes
trained
on
me
,
only
to
quickly
flit
away
.
I
feel
like
I
owe
him
something
,
and
I
hate
owing
people
.
Maybe
if
I
had
thanked
him
at
some
point
,
I
'd
be
feeling
less
conflicted
now
.
I
thought
about
it
a
couple
of
times
,
but
the
opportunity
never
seemed
to
present
itself
.
And
now
it
never
will
.
Because
we
're
going
to
be
thrown
into
an
arena
to
fight
to
the
death
.
Exactly
how
am
I
supposed
to
work
in
a
thank-you
in
there
?
Somehow
it
just
wo
n't
seem
sincere
if
I
'm
trying
to
slit
his
throat
The
mayor
finishes
the
dreary
Treaty
of
Treason
and
motions
for
Peeta
and
me
to
shake
hands
.
His
are
as
solid
and
warm
as
those
loaves
of
bread
.
Peeta
looks
me
right
in
the
eye
and
gives
my
hand
what
I
think
is
meant
to
be
a
reassuring
squeeze
.
Maybe
it
's
just
a
nervous
spasm
.
We
turn
back
to
face
the
crowd
as
the
anthem
of
Panem
plays
.
