第9部分(第1/7 页)

r；　of　home。　Now　I　wish　I　had。

The　door　opens　and　a　young　man　who　must　be　Cinna　enters。　Iˇm　taken　aback　by　how　normal　he　looks。　Most　of　the　stylists　they　interview　on　television　are　so　dyed；　stenciled；　and　surgically　altered　theyˇre　grotesque。　But　Cinnaˇs　closecropped　hair　appears　to　be　its　natural　shade　of　brown。　Heˇs　in　a　simple　black　shirt　and　pants。　The　only　concession　to　selfalteration　seems　to　be　metallic　gold　eyeliner　that　has　been　applied　with　a　light　hand。　It　brings　out　the　flecks　of　gold　in　his　green　eyes。　And；　despite　my　disgust　with　the　Capitol　and　their　hideous　fashions；　I　canˇt　help　thinking　how　attractive　it　looks。

¨Hello；　Katniss。　Iˇm　Cinna；　your　stylist；〃　he　says　in　a　quiet　voice　somewhat　lacking　in　the　Capitolˇs　affectations。

¨Hello；〃　I　venture　cautiously。

¨Just　give　me　a　moment；　all　right？〃　he　asks。　He　walks　around　my　naked　body；　not　touching　me；　but　taking　in　every　inch　of　it　with　his　eyes。　I　resist　the　impulse　to　cross　my　arms　over　my　chest。　¨Who　did　your　hair？〃

¨My　mother；〃　I　say。

¨Itˇs　beautiful。　Classic　really。　And　in　almost　perfect　balance　with　your　profile。　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。

¨Youˇre　new；　arenˇt　you？　I　donˇt　think　Iˇve　seen　you　before；〃　I　say。　Most　of　the　stylists　are　familiar；　constants　in　the　everchanging　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。　Newers　generally　end　up　with　us；　the　least　desirable　district。

¨I　asked　for　District　Twelve；〃　he　s