FISZKOTEKA
Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch's knife in white liquor from a bottle on the
floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirttail and slices the bread. Peeta keeps
all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks. We have our
own ways to stay busy, to keep thoughts of our time as contestants in the
Hunger Games at bay. It's not until he's handed Haymitch the heel that he even
looks at me for the first time. “Would you like a piece?”
“No, I ate at the Hob,” I say. “But thank you.” My voice doesn't sound like my
own, it's so formal. Just as it's been every time I've spoken to Peeta since the
cameras finished filming our happy homecoming and we returned to our real
lives.
“You're welcome,” he says back stiffly.
Haymitch tosses his shirt somewhere into the mess. “Brrr. You two have got a
lot of warming up to do before showtime.”
He's right, of course. The audience will be expecting the pair of lovebirds who
won the Hunger Games. Not two people who can barely look each other in the
eye. But all I say is, “Take a bath, Haymitch.” Then I swing out the window, drop
to the ground, and head across the green to my house.
The snow has begun to stick and I leave a trail of footprints behind me. At the
front door, I pause to knock the wet stuff from my shoes before I go in. My
mother's been working day and night to make everything perfect for the
cameras, so it's no time to be tracking up her shiny floors. I've barely stepped
inside when she's there, holding my arm as if to stop me.
oblać - douse,
ostrze - blade,
ciąć na plasterki - slice,
ciąć chleb na plasterki - slice the bread,
dobra - goods,
zawodnik - contestants,
powrót do domu - homecoming,
chłodno/ z dystansem - stiffly,
toss sth into sth - rzucić coś w coś,
rozgrzewka - worming up,
gruchające gołąbki,
spojrzeć komuś w oczy - look sb in the eye,
ślad - trail,
odciski stopy - footprints,
strącić - knock,
zabrudzić podłogę,
jakby - as if,
