gain。 If I tell him the truth about the girl； somehow that might even things up。 How can it hurt really？ Even if he repeated the story； it couldnˇt do me much harm。 It was just something I witnessed。 And he lied as much as I did about Delly Cartwright。
I realize I do want to talk to someone about the girl。 Someone who might be able to help me figure out her story。
Gale would be my first choice； but itˇs unlikely Iˇll ever see Gale again。 I try to think if telling Peeta could give him any possible advantage over me； but I donˇt see how。 Maybe sharing a confidence will actually make him believe I see him as a friend。
Besides； the idea of the girl with her maimed tongue frightens me。 She has reminded me why Iˇm here。 Not to model flashy costumes and eat delicacies。 But to die a bloody death while the crowds urge on my killer。
To tell or not to tell？ My brain still feels slow from the wine。 I stare down the empty corridor as if the decision lies there。
Peeta picks up on my hesitation。 ¨Have you been on the roof yet？〃 I shake my head。 ¨Cinna showed me。 You can practically see the whole city。 The windˇs a bit loud； though。〃
I translate this into ¨No one will overhear us talking〃 in my head。 You do have the sense that we might be under surveillance here。 ¨Can we just go up？〃
¨Sure； e on；〃 says Peeta。 I follow him to a flight of stairs that lead to the roof。 Thereˇs a small dome…shaped room with a door to the outside。 As we step into the cool； windy evening air； I catch my breath at the view。 The Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies。 Electricity in District 12 es and goes； usually we only have it a few hours a day。 Often the evenings are spent in candlelight。 The only time you can count on it is when theyˇre airing the