Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins Page A

his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.”
    That’s why.
    I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you’re proposing an escape plan and the next . . . you’re expected to deal with something like this. I come up with what must be the worst possible response. “I know.”
    It sounds terrible. Like I assume he couldn’t help loving me but that I don’t feel anything in return. Gale starts to draw away, but I grab hold of him. “I know! And you . . . you know what you are to me.” It’s not enough. He breaks my grip. “Gale, I can’t think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim’s name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. And there doesn’t seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don’t know.”
    I can see him swallowing his disappointment. “So, we’ll go. We’ll find out.” He turns back to the fire, where the chestnuts are beginning to burn. He flips them out onto the hearth. “My mother’s going to take some convincing.”
    I guess he’s still going, anyway. But the happiness has fled, leaving an all-too-familiar strain in its place. “Mine, too. I’ll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won’t survive the alternative.”
    “She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale.
    “I hope not.” The temperature in the house seems to have dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. “Haymitch will be the real challenge.”
    “Haymitch?” Gale abandons the chestnuts. “You’re not asking him to come with us?”
    “I have to, Gale. I can’t leave him and Peeta because they’d —” His scowl cuts me off. “What?”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how large our party was,” he snaps at me.
    “They’d torture them to death, trying to find out where I was,” I say.
    “What about Peeta’s family? They’ll never come. In fact, they probably couldn’t wait to inform on us. Which I’m sure he’s smart enough to realize. What if he decides to stay?” he asks.
    I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. “Then he stays.”
    “You’d leave him behind?” Gale asks.
    “To save Prim and my mother, yes,” I answer. “I mean, no! I’ll get him to come.”
    “And me, would you leave me?” Gale’s expression is rock hard now. “Just if, for instance, I can’t convince my mother to drag three young kids into the wilderness in winter.”
    “Hazelle won’t refuse. She’ll see sense,” I say.
    “Suppose she doesn’t, Katniss. What then?” he demands.
    “Then you have to force her, Gale. Do you think I’m making this stuff up?” My voice is rising in anger as well.
    “No. I don’t know. Maybe the president’s just manipulating you. I mean, he’s throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don’t think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. How’s he going to get out of that one?” says Gale.
    “Well, with an uprising in District Eight, I doubt he’s spending much time choosing my wedding cake!” I shout.
    The instant the words are out of my mouth I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Gale is immediate — the flush on his cheeks, the brightness of his gray eyes. “There’s an uprising in Eight?” he says in a hushed voice.
    I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. “I don’t know if it’s really an uprising. There’s unrest. People in the streets — ” I say.
    Gale grabs my shoulders. “What did