Hi, this is my first HG fic, so I hope you enjoy it :-) I'm trying to keep it in order to the books, possibly one chapter at a time? We shall see.
Thanks so much,
~Me
Peeta
I fumbled with the buttons of my starched dress shirt. I could hear my mother in the next room telling my older brother tostraighten his tie, or else he would look like a homeless person. I highly doubted that a homeless person would have a necktie anyway, but I ignored the thought and examined myself in the small mirror adjacent to my bed. My hair looked greasy with all the gel Mother had pressured me into wearing. I turned as the door to the small room (broom closet, more like) that I shared with my brother.
"Peeta, you look like a right fool with your hair like that. Get the grease out, idiot!" My mother yells at me. I refrain from reminding her who told me to put in a good handful of gel, and grab an old sheet lying on the floor. She leaves the room and I start to dry my hair. When I look back up to the mirror, my hair ffalls in waves. The reflection stirs some of the nerves I've been repressing. I shove them back down and head towards the kitchen to gather my shoes.
_line_
We stand in corrals by age and gender. I know many of the boys from school, but no one feels like talking. We all face towards the stage as the menin suits walk out and take their seats. The great glass balls filled with tiny slips of paper seem to taunt us all. I am fortunate enough not to need tesserae, but I know for a fact some of these kids, especially from the Seam, have their names entered 40 to 50 times.
The depressing Capitol video about the dark days barely gets through to me. I don't feel like watching it a fourth time, and I am too nervous to be worked up over the fact that they can slaughter children in a show of glamour.
The infamous Effie Trinket appears from the justice building. Pink wig slightly off, she intones her signature line.
"Happy Hunger Games, everyone! May the odds be ever in your favor!" Effie says, with a bright smile bouncing off her pink cheeks.
"Ladies first!" Effie informs us, as if she were opening a door for us, and not damning two kids to either death or a lifetime of terror and agony.
Her hand fishes around in the bowl for a moment, until she stops and plucks one, unlucky little duck from the rest of us.
"Primrose Everdeen!" Effie says cheerfully. I choke a little. Not Prim. I look back, and see the little girl emerge from the crowd of twelve year olds, her face white and fists clenched. The crowd murmurs disdainfully, all wishing Effie had chosen someone older. She steps forward and Peacekeepers surround her.
"Prim!" My stomach drops at the sound of her voice. "Prim!" So shocked and pained that I can't believe she is still standing. The crowd parts so she can get to her sister. Prim almost makes it on stage before the girl shoves her back.
"I volunteer!" She says shakily, then repeats it more clearly. "I volunteer as tribute." I feel as though I've been punched in the gut. No. No. Please no. Tell her she can't. Anything but this. Not her.
Prim goes wild,vscreaming for Katniss and crying. She grabs her around the stomach a tightens her grip. Katniss's friend Gale picks her up and says something to her, and carries her away from the crowd to Prim's mother.
Effie stumbles a bit, but the mayor silences her and motions Katniss up onstage, a silent vouch of respect. She slowly rises forward, as if it's just hitting her. How can one girl have so much bad luck? First, her father in the mines, and now this? Practically a death sentence? I would give anything to save her.
Effie regains her composure and asks for her name. Prompts her, as if she is wasting her time.
"Katniss Everdeen."
Effie calls for a round of applause, but no one makes a move. Katniss doesn't deserve this. She hunts for everyone, is known by everyone. Brave. Strong. Beautiful. Though she didn't seem to know it.
Someone in front takes three fingers, places them to her lips, and hold them out to her. We all follow suit. A shift has taken place. We hold out our hands for goodbye. Katniss, beneath her stony mask for the crowd looks a bit surprised. About to cry.
Haymitch Abernathy, the only, drunk, victor staggers accross the stage and starts going on about how he likes her.
"She's got... spunk!" Haymitch slurs. No, I think. She's got the will to live. It hurts to think of Katniss in the arena.
Effie says something about there being more excitement to come, and heads to the boys. She dips her hand into the opposite glass bowl, and pulls out a siingle slip of paper.
"Peeta Mellark", she reads. At first I think that I heard her wrong. Then everyone around me backs away like I have a contagious disease, and I know it's reality.
I walk to the podium. I don't look up. I can't. But I have too.
I look at Katniss and think, what a pair. A girl who goes into the woods and takes care of herself and family, and a priveledged boy who is too scared to o into the rain to give a girl a piece of bread.
I look to the crowd, and that's when I decide.
I'm going to save Katniss Everdeen.
Wow! A little impressed with myself, only because that was one power writing session! More soon, I hope.
Love to all!
~Me