Peeta Mallark Part One:
I awake suddenly jerked upright in my bed, breathing heavily. Another nightmare. For how much longer will the fate of the reapings haunt my sleep? How many times will my mind be invaded with images of my brother Strucla, my friends, and my neighbors, being hauled to their deaths by the capitol? Suddenly my father rushes into my room looking alarmed, "I heard screaming?" He exclaims, panting. "I'm alright," I say attempting to reassure him with a smile. He's not convinced. My father has never been a man of many words but we've always had our own way of communicating and I can tell he's worried by the look of desperation in his bright blue eyes. It must not be easy bringing up children in this world. Where you're unable to protect them, helpless to the merciless ways of the capitol. Forced to send your own flesh and blood blindly to their deaths upon command. My father tries to create the illusion that our family is safe, that he can protect us, but we all know the truth.
There must have been a time, years ago where this wasn't the case. Where parents could protect their young, shield them from the evils of the world, at least for a little while. But here, in Panem, children are exposed to evil purposely, even more so than the rest of us. In this world we have the hunger games. It's sick enough, forcing the whole world to watch people fight to the death, but these games are a special kind of monstrosity. In these games children 12 to 18 are the contestants, and their parents are forced to sit by and watch impotent, helpless, defenseless.
I feel sorry for my father. I can't even imagine what he must be going through. I wish he'd talk to me about it, I wish I could tell him how scared I am for my self, for Strucla, for everyone I know in district 12. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is "get dressed and come down to the bakery boy, we've got a busy day ahead of us." Then he walks out the door, shutting it softly behind him.
On reaping days my father tries to keep our family busy, to distract us. He tries to protect his children the best he can within his control. At the bakery we try to make as many extra loaves as we can so we can sell it cheap to people who live at the Seam. My mother hates when we do this. She says that the people in the Seem are rats, dirt, trash, scum etc. Not worth our time. My mother's a real piece of work.
I hear people from school and around town call her an evil witch when they think I'm not listening. My father says that the woman he fell in love with was kind and beautiful, but she changed after the accident.
When I was just an infant I had a third brother, Rye. He was 17. He had a bunch of friends in the Seam and they would always fool around near the mines. I don't know much about the details because my father was very vague, but from what I understand, there was a mine explosion and Rye was collateral damage. My mother loved Rye so much that after this occurred she became hysterical. She blames his death on all the people from the Seem and now she tries to make them pay the price.
Sometimes I hate my mother. I try to be understanding, I try to be forgiving. It's not her fault after all… she's heart broken. But it seems that ever since she lost one son she hasn't made much effort to hold on to the others. She slaps us around quite a bit when she get's into one of her moods. I often have to make up stories of "accidently falling down the stairs" or "banging into a wall" in order to ward off suspicion about my black eyes and bruises. She always apologizes after my father chats with her but it doesn't stop her from doing it again. The worst is when she catches us speaking to kids from the Seam. That causes her to just about lose it. One time my other brother Barley was caught cozying up to a Seem girl behind the house and she nearly gave him a concussion.
This presents a slight problem for me since I've been in love with a Seam girl for as long as I can remember. Ever since I heard her sing when we were 5 I haven't been able to shake her from my head. Katniss Everdeen. I first noticed her when my father pointed her out to me. As it happens, he was in love with her mother but her mother was in love with a coal miner. Left the town for the Seam.
But it doesn't matter anyway since Katniss and I have never said two words to each other; I highly doubt she would even know who I was. But we did have one encounter… about 4 or 5 years ago, after her father died in a coal mining accident. She must have been starving because she was going through all the trashcans on my street. I was watching her through the window. I was aching for her, I wanted to help, but before I could do anything my mother ran out screaming nasty words at her. I wanted so desperately to help Katniss so I took two loaves of bread and dropped them into the fire. When my mother came back inside she saw the bread burning, slapped me around pretty good. Katniss saw the whole thing. I was humiliated. My mother yelled at me to throw the burnt loaves to the pigs. I ran out hoping Katniss would still be there so I could hand her the bread. Luckily she was, but I could sense my mother watching me and honestly, I was a little nervous to talk to Katniss in person so I just threw the bread in her direction hoping she'd pick up on the fact that they were meant for her, not the pigs. She did and thankfully my mother didn't see her run off with the loaves. I was so mad at myself after. Why hadn't I just handed them to her personally? Instead of throwing them into the dirt as if she were an animal. I'm weak, spineless, a lousy coward. Katniss Everdeen will never love me.
I am snapped back into reality by the beeping of the oven coming down from the kitchen, indicating that something was done baking. I'm overwhelmed by the smell of fresh bread and suddenly I begin to remember what day it is. Reaping day. The day where the pigs are chosen for the slaughter. Would I be one of the unlucky two? Or would I be spared for one more year? A chill runs through my spine, causing me to shiver. I put on the clothes my mother laid out for me. Beige slacks and a light blue button down shirt. An outfit only worn on special occasions; somehow the capitol has warped people into actually considering this day as a special occasion instead of viewing it, as it really is, an execution. A tool created to punish the districts for rebelling 74 years ago. A reminder to the people that the capitol has complete control and everyone else is helpless to stop them.
I run down stairs into the kitchen grab an apron and look toward my father for further direction. He points to the cakes I have to ice. I'm very thankful for this because icing the cakes is one of the very few things that can actually take my mind off the reapings. Not to mention it's something I'm actually good at. When I begin to paint the intricate patterns and delicate flowers onto the cakes, my mind enters a new realm. I feel almost at peace.
Suddenly my realm of peace is interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. My father goes to the door opens it slightly and then quickly looks around to make sure my mothers out of sight, she hates when my father illegally trades with people from the Seam. (Luckily she's out running errands.) Once the door is fully open I see a tall older boy dangling a squirrel by its tail in front of my father; I instantly recognize the boy, his name is Gale Hawthorn. People say that he's Katniss' boyfriend. The girls in school however, refuse to believe it "Gale Hawthorn is so handsome he couldn't possibly fancy Katniss Everdeen, she's so… unpleasant." But they are always seen together, hunting, down at the hob (the black market in district twelve), and sometimes about in town. I don't know what to believe, I mean it's pretty obvious the girls just say this about Katniss because they're jealous, but could they still be right? Maybe Gale and Katniss' relationship is just a rumor, just because they're always together doesn't mean they're in love, maybe just friends... Regardless, I can't help but to look at him with disgust. Tall, ruggedly handsome, olive skin, and grey Seam eyes. My heart pangs with jealousy; I try to go back to icing the cakes but it's hard to concentrate. My father trades a fresh loaf of bread for that grotesque squirrel. He must've been feeling generous today, given the circumstances. "Nice boy." My father whispers, I just shrug and pretend not to know who that "nice boy" was.
I go about the rest of the day icing cakes and making dough until 1 pm. that's when the reaping takes place.
My whole family, Strucla, Barley, my parents, and I all head down to the square which is decorated with banners and lights as if this were some sort of celebration. But we can all feel the grimness in the air.
I'm the youngest of my brothers, Strucla's 17, and Barley's 20 so he's no longer eligible for the games but you can tell he's as scared as the rest of us. Barley comes up to me and pats me on the back trying to calm my nerves He and I have always gotten along well, he's very protective of Strucla and me. He's my father's favorite; I think Strucla's always resented him for that. I don't mind too much. If I were my father I'd probably favor Barley too, he's the best of all of us. Tall, strong, athletic, smart, wavy blond hair similar to mine, and bright blue eyes just like my fathers.
Strucla doesn't really get along with anyone. He constantly picks fights with my father and Barley. I try to stay out of his way most of the time. Even though Strucla and I aren't on the best of terms, the thought of him getting chosen for the games makes me sick to my stomach.
I look at Strucla and study his face, he doesn't seem too nervous but when he talks there's a tremor in his voice. "Peeta, there's nothing to worry about you only have your name in the bowl 5 times and I'm only in six times." He's trying to be strong but the panicky look in his eyes isn't fooling anyone. He continues "I'm sure many of the other boys from the Seam have their names in at least 20 or 30 times. The odds are defiantly in our favor." This is true. The capitol offers the districts something called tesserae, which is a year's supply of grain and oil for one person, in exchange for their name being put into the reaping bowl more times. Some kids have to buy a few tesseraes so that they can feed their entire families. So that means kids like Katniss Everdeen have a much greater shot at becoming tributes. However kids like me and Strucla who have enough money to survive only have to put our names in the bowl the minimum amount of times depending on our age. I'm very aware of that fact that this whole system is completely twisted. Just another example of the capitol favoring the rich and screwing over the poor.
My family takes our time walking to the square, in no rush to get there early; we finally arrive shortly before 2. Cameras are stationed all around the stage that was temporarily set up before the Justice Building, in order to capture this monumental moment for all of Panem to see. The whole town is there, all 8 thousand of us. Attendance is mandatory unless you're on your deathbed. We sign in before we enter, one of the last ones to arrive. There's barely any room left, Strucla and I try to squeeze through the aloof crowd into our designated areas. The oldest are stationed in the front, since they have a greater chance of being chosen, and the youngest in the back. Luckily Strucla and I are meant to stand in pretty much the same area but we're eventually forced to separate to make room for the masses of people filling in. He gives me one last look before he fades into the crowd and for the first time in a while I get the sense that he actually cares for me. I shuffle into a group of all the 16s and find five of my friends from the town, Jackson, Emmet, Janice, Attalla, and Burghen all with the same somber expression. They glance at me and I nod. This isn't much of a social hour.
Promptly Mayor Undersee begins by reading a speech I've heard hundreds of times about the capitol's version of the history of Panem. I'm sure there's much more to the story than the little that we're told but no one in their right mind would dare to alter this perfectly constructed archive which conveniently manages to turn all the blame onto the districts making the capitol seem almost magnanimous.
I doze off as he begins to explain all about the dark days and the Treaty of Treason, which resulted in the Hunger Games. I'm awoken by the drunken cry of Haymitch Abernathy, the only remaining victor of district 12. There have only been 2 altogether in all 73 years of the hunger games. He's really let himself go. While only about 40 years, old he could pass for at least 50, aged by nightmares of the past and drunkenness. Paunchy with matted blond hair and an unkempt beard, living breathing proof that you can never truly win the hunger games. Even if you're spared your body, something dies inside of you, slowly poisoning your mind until your nothing but a walking corpse. Maybe it's better just to die.
A smile forces itself onto my face when Haymitch falls onto the notorious Effie Trinket, the hunger games escort for district twelve fresh from the capitol, and wraps his arms around her in a drunken embrace. She may have some potential to be attractive if it weren't for her gaudy capitol clothes, garish pink wig, heavy makeup, and unnaturally white grin that makes her look like a freakish clown. Effie looks so disgusted by Haymitch's grimy fingers I'm sure she has half a mind to run in those painful looking high heels straight back to the capitol. I actually laugh out loud. The mayor looks distressed, aware of the fact that district twelve is about to become the laughingstock of Panem. Once Effie's is able to release herself from Haymitch's grasp she staggers into the center of the stage grabs the microphone from the mayor's hands and squeals "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" in that ridiculous capitol accent of hers. "What an honor it is to be here in district twelve!" She exclaims a little bit too enthusiastically. I roll my eyes because I know that she really hates it here. What capitol citizen wouldn't? She must just be dying for a promotion to a better district. Unfortunately that does not seem to be in her cards, not unless district twelve can bring home a victor.
"Ladies first!" Effie says once it's time for the drawing, as she does every year. She really needs some new material; all of her usual Hunger Games antics are getting pretty old. She crosses the stage to the glass ball housing the names of all of the girls in district twelve, ages 12-18. I, a long with the rest of district 12, hold my breath as she digs her hand into the ball and draws out a slip of paper. Which young girl's fate will this seal? I silently pray that it's not a girl I know. What if it's Janice? Or Attalla? Or Katniss. Effie Trinket trots back to the podium, her ridiculous pink wig bobbing as she goes. She smoothes out the slip of paper, could she do this any more slowly? A name is read. "Primrose Everdeen."
At first I take a small sigh of relief. At least I don't know this girl, right? And then suddenly the name Everdeen rings in my ear. Everdeen, Everdeen, Everdeen. Katniss Everdeen. That's Katniss' little sister. I see a very frail looking twelve-year-old child. Her face pale, drained of blood. Her hands clenched into tiny fists. The image of absolute terror lies in her blue eyes. She stiffly walks toward the stage.
"Prim!" A strangled cry is heard from the audience. "Prim!" this time louder and more assertive. I'm pushed back as Katniss runs through the audience and makes her way to the stage. She clutches her sister's arm and forcefully pushes the feeble child behind her. Her light grey eyes are wild with desperation and disbelief, and then I grit my teeth in anticipation of what she will do next "I volunteer!" she shouts, almost out of breath, as if she doesn't believe that anyone will hear her otherwise. Suddenly the look of terror in her eyes changes into something else, something I can't quite pick up on. Maybe the realization of what just happened, of what she had just done. Her face turns to stone, I no longer detect any sign of fear, she had made her decision. "I volunteer as tribute." She states in an even voice.
There are muffled gasps from the audience. I pinch my self on the wrist to make sure this isn't another one of my nightmares. But no, this is as real as it gets. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who hasn't left my head since I was five. The girl who I've been in love with since I can remember, but to whom I've been too cowardly to speak to. Why haven't I even attempted to speak to her in the past? Why have I only let myself admire her from a far for so long? Maybe it's because I was scared? Of Katniss or my mother? Maybe I was too arrogant to want to be seen with a girl from the Seam? But that can't be it. Then what? Now the girl standing on the stage with her dark braided hair, olive skin, grey eyes, blue satin dress that hangs loosely against her frail frame, and beautiful singing voice that I can still hear in my dreams will be hauled away just like a pig for the slaughter. She will be imprisoned in an arena and be forced into a fight to the death with 23 others. And now I'll never get to say to her what I've been keeping inside my head for 10 years.
The little girl, Primrose, is screaming now frantically grabbing onto Katniss but she's yanked away by Gale Hawthorn who whispers something I can't make out and then takes the girl to her mother.
Once Katniss introduces herself to Effie, not one person claps. We're not about to give the capitol the satisfaction of watching us celebrate this hideous event. One by one everyone begins performing the district twelve hand-motion, usually only used for funerals in order to say goodbye, this is the first time this has happened since I can remember. I touch the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips and then hold them out in admiration and remembrance of the bravery of Katniss Everdeen.
Next thing I know a drunken Haymitch begins to harass her as he did Effie, making Katniss incredibly uncomfortable, "Look at her. Look at this one! I like her! Lot's of spunk!" He slurs "More than you!" He points to the cameras, my guess is that he's addressing the capitol, pretty gutsy, I'm just about to feel some admiration for the poor guy when he plunges off the stage knocking himself unconscious. I shake my head mockingly; the sight would be almost humorous in a different circumstance.
Now Effie scampers to the center of the stage desperately trying to call attention away from Haymitch, "What an exciting day!" She shouts in attempt to silence the murmuring of the crowd. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" My stomach drops as I'm reminded why we're all here today. I look at Katniss Everdeen standing awkwardly on the stage unsure of what to do with her hands, what boy will join her to be hoarded to the capitol and readied for the slaughter. While trying to keep her fluffy pink wig from falling off of her head with one hand, the other takes the first slip from the glass ball that it encounters. She goes back to the podium and reads the name so quickly that I'm caught off guard when I hear her say "Peeta Mallark!"
Suddenly I feel like there are a million eyes on me, burning a whole right through my flesh. I see the horrified expression on Attalla's face, we'd been friends since we were kids. I don't look her directly in the eye in fear that this will set off the tears. I try my hardest to remain calm but I can't hide the terror in my heart as well as Katniss can. The crowd begins to split creating a path for me to walk to the stage. I feel like I'm in a dream, nothing seems real. My whole body is numb. It's almost as if I'm watching another stocky looking medium sized boy with blond hair and blue eyes plow through swarms of people toward the stage, while I'm in a distant, safer place. I don't know how I got my legs to move but before I know it I'm walking onto the stage. My eyes meet Strucla's and for a split second I have a twinge of hope that he'll volunteer for me as Katniss did for her sister. But the thought exits my mind as quickly as it enters. I know he won't. He loves me, but sometimes sibling devotion can only go so far. And even if he did have the courage to volunteer, I wouldn't want him too. I'd feel tremendous guilt. I don't know what would be worse; actually be in the games or to have to watch one of the people who I love the most in the games. I look over in disbelief at Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. This is worse than having to watch her on a screen because now I'll not only be helpless to save her but the one trying to kill her. It's almost comical what rotten luck I have. Almost. Those intense grey eyes pierce my heart and turn me to stone. Another thought hits me; maybe this is my chance to finally be with Katniss, even if just for a little while. But what if it were to come down to the two of us? I shake the thought from my head. It won't. I'll be long gone before it comes down to the final two. But I think I'll have to try anyways. To win. For my father, Barley, Strucla, even my mother. For my friends. But would it be worth it in the end? To kill a bunch of innocent people just to end up like Haymitch Abernathy? This is all too much for me. I look down at my hands and realize that they're shaking uncontrollably. Then I remember that all of Panem is watching me right now. Great. There goes my chance for any sponsors. I try my hardest to quickly compose myself.
I attempt to just concentrate on the mayors reciting of the Treaty of Treason. Once he finishes he motions for Katniss and me to shake hands, my eyes meet Katniss' for a brief second. She seems alarmed, like the thought of seeing me has genuinely disturbed her. Maybe she does remember me after all? But what does it matter. In a few weeks we'll be forced to fight each other to the death, and Katniss Everdeen is a hunter, she won't falter for a second before killing me. I can't blame her can I? It's not like I'm anything more to her than the baker's son who she's maybe seen once or twice around school or in town.
Her hand is warm in mine, strong and tough from hunting and single handedly keeping her family alive. This is the hand of a fighter. I wish I could hold it in mine forever I squeeze it tightly in attempt to comfort her, let her know that I'm on her side and that everything will be okay. She looks confused. We turn to face the crowd, the anthem of Panem plays. My head is swarming with questions whose answers are locked away somewhere deep in the burrows of my brain. Should I just forget about all my feelings for Katniss? Should I protect her? Should I try to win the games? Is it even worth it? Then my mind goes to my father and Barley. Strucla and my mother. Jackson and Atalla who have been my best friends since I could walk. They must all be so devastated. It must be hard to lose a son, a brother, a friend this way. I wonder if my mother will react the same way she did when she lost Rye. Maybe she'll go crazy. I begin to feel sick; everything's just a huge blur for here on out.
End of Part One.