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- Сюзанна Коллинз
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- Стр. 35/236
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She
has
very
clever
fingers
,
"
he
says
.
I
had
expected
someone
flamboyant
,
someone
older
trying
desperately
to
look
young
,
someone
who
viewed
me
as
a
piece
of
meat
to
be
prepared
for
a
platter
.
Cinna
has
met
none
of
these
expectations
.
"
You
're
new
,
are
n't
you
?
I
do
n't
think
I
've
seen
you
before
,
"
I
say
.
Most
of
the
stylists
are
familiar
,
constants
in
the
ever-changing
pool
of
tributes
.
Some
have
been
around
my
whole
life
.
"
Yes
,
this
is
my
first
year
in
the
Games
,
"
says
Cinna
.
"
So
they
gave
you
District
Twelve
,
"
I
say
.
Newcomers
generally
end
up
with
us
,
the
least
desirable
district
.
"
I
asked
for
District
Twelve
,
"
he
says
without
further
explanation
.
"
Why
do
n't
you
put
on
your
robe
and
we
'll
have
a
chat
.
"
Pulling
on
my
robe
,
I
follow
him
through
a
door
into
a
sitting
room
.
Two
red
couches
face
off
over
a
low
table
.
Three
walls
are
blank
,
the
fourth
is
entirely
glass
,
providing
a
window
to
the
city
.
I
can
see
by
the
light
that
it
must
be
around
noon
,
although
the
sunny
sky
has
turned
overcast
.
Cinna
invites
me
to
sit
on
one
of
the
couches
and
takes
his
place
across
from
me
.
He
presses
a
button
on
the
side
of
the
table
.
The
top
splits
and
from
below
rises
a
second
tabletop
that
holds
our
lunch
.
Chicken
and
chunks
of
oranges
cooked
in
a
creamy
sauce
laid
on
a
bed
of
pearly
white
grain
,
tiny
green
peas
and
onions
,
rolls
shaped
like
flowers
,
and
for
dessert
,
a
pudding
the
color
of
honey
.
I
try
to
imagine
assembling
this
meal
myself
back
home
.
Chickens
are
too
expensive
,
but
I
could
make
do
with
a
wild
turkey
.
I
'd
need
to
shoot
a
second
turkey
to
trade
for
an
orange
.
Goat
's
milk
would
have
to
substitute
for
cream
.
We
can
grow
peas
in
the
garden
.
I
'd
have
to
get
wild
onions
from
the
woods
.
I
do
n't
recognize
the
grain
,
our
own
tessera
ration
cooks
down
to
an
unattractive
brown
mush
.
Fancy
rolls
would
mean
another
trade
with
the
baker
,
perhaps
for
two
or
three
squirrels
.
As
for
the
pudding
,
I
ca
n't
even
guess
what
's
in
it
.
Days
of
hunting
and
gathering
for
this
one
meal
and
even
then
it
would
be
a
poor
substitution
for
the
Capitol
version
.
What
must
it
be
like
,
I
wonder
,
to
live
in
a
world
where
food
appears
at
the
press
of
a
button
?
How
would
I
spend
the
hours
I
now
commit
to
combing
the
woods
for
sustenance
if
it
were
so
easy
to
come
by
?
What
do
they
do
all
day
,
these
people
in
the
Capitol
,
besides
decorating
their
bodies
and
waiting
around
for
a
new
shipment
of
tributes
to
roll
in
and
die
for
their
entertainment
?
