PART 1
Effie has called my name. It should have been close to impossible. My name is only in there once. If Katniss had been right about how I wouldn't be picked, then why must I be the one walking up the isle towards my death? I must walk toward the scary women in the powdered wig, who bends her index finger, beckoning me. I shiver as I walk, tucking in my shirt into my skirt. "Tuck your tail in, Little Duck." I recall my sister laughing. Her sweet voice, how I wish she were here to save me. Why must she be in the woods, why couldn't she just keep track of time. When did Gale become more important than me?
Effie smilies at me, an evil grin of pleasure. I walk onto the stage, looking at the hungover Victor sitting on a chair. He won the 50th by outsmarting everyone, his name is Haymitch, I believe. He looks at me with blood shot eyes. He meets my gaze and looks away. He shakes his head, running his hand through his greasy hair, and muttering to himself. Effie speaks the name of the male tribute, "Peeta Mellark." her voice echoes. the boy section all turn their heads to face a blonde haired boy. His shocker face is splattered across the screens, his face is being registered for the cameras. Capitol citizens will watch his reaction, will see how he wants to cry. They'll laugh, not realizing he might be dead in the next weel.
I look at Haymitch again, his eyes are shut, but he still mutters to himself. Before he could open his eyes, I look away. I don't want to see the revolting pity in his eyes. He will be the one leading me into my death. "And may the odds be ever in your favor." I hear Effie close. The Reaping has ended. I have been reaped. The Prim Reaper has done its bidding. Effie and Haymitch walk us into the Justice Building, where we are put into small rooms. The rooms look like jail cells, there are even bars on the windows. This is meant to contain and torture, nothing more, nothing less. Here, people will visit me for not even a minute, to cry, and tell me to try and win. Do they really think a 12 year old will be able to win? It's impossible when the odds stacked against me are District Careers who have been training to wipe out scrawny people, like me, ever since they could walk. My door opens, its Mr. Mellark. He holds a container of cookies and hugs me without permission. "Oh Prim. Oh, sweet, sweet, Prim. You didn't deserve this." He strokes my blonde braids and keeps me in his arms until a Peackeeper comes.
When Mr. Mellark pulls away from me, he hands me the cookies, and whispers into my ear, "Trust Peeta." The door shuts, leaving me alone. Peeta? The other male tribute? Why must I trust him? He and I will be fighting to get back home, why must I treat an enemy like a friend? I set myself down on the chair they've set up in the room. I have my head in my hands, wishing I could be walking back home now. Wishing my heart would stop beating out of my chest, that my finger would stop trembling, wishing the tears would stop rolling. The door opens again, my mother. I run towards her, crying even more, letting all my worries and grief onto her shirt. She strokes me hair also, her fingers trembling even more than mine. "Prim, sweetie..." She drifts, she can't finish her sentence. Who could think straight in this situation? The words in my head aren't even close to stringing together, I wonder what mom is thinking. She's probably imagining with terror as she watches her daughter get slaughtered by another tribute. I let more tears roll, staining her shirt one by one.
"Miss" says a rough voice of the peacekeeper. "Miss!" he says again. "Mrs. Everdeen, you need to go, now." My mothers fingers slowly move off my body, her arms peel off my shaking body. She looks into my eyes, her blue watching mine, and kisses my forehead. "I love you, Prim." "I love you, Mommy." The words I speak send her into a full wave of shock that floods her eyes. She kisses my forehead again and walks through the doors. The slam of the door echoes through the room, through my mind, over and over again. I am alone. I will be for a while. Until I greet Father at the gates.
PART 2
We are loaded onto the sleek metal train without a second thought. The warm air of the train spalshes on us, pleasing smilies grow. I take in a breath as I open my eyes to the glory inside the train. The box cars are full of food and expensive furniture, every where I looked there was something shiny or captivating. I walk to a lamp and let my figners run down the smooth glass. "We want to make sure that you're confortable while traveling to the Capitol." I hear Effie speak, leading us to our seats. "Even if it may be just for a little while." I snap my eyes at Effie. It was a back handed compliment, I knew it, and she did too. Just because she didn't like the district she was placed in to choose the reaping, doesn't mean she can take it out on us. We're already going to die. I sit myself on the soft fluffed couch, my body sinking a few inches into the stuffing. Peeta does the same, I watch as he sinks also, I laugh a little. He looks at me, the first time I've really made eye contact with him. "Out of all the girls to get picked...I never would have expected you, Prim." He speaks softly and slowly.
"That's what I was thinking also." I say, looking away from his beautiful blue eyes. Peeta rubs my back. He has soft hands, I can feel them through the shirt fabric. He takes his hand away and walks to the dining table full of pastries. He doesn't pick one up, he just looks at them. The beautiful frosting designs and colors captivate him. He lets out a long sigh, a longing sigh. I remember how he decorated the cakes at his families shop, I remember walking past the store window and seeing him decorate with a huge smile on his face. He must miss the shop dreadfully. A silence comes. Peeta has his back still toward me, I let myself tell him whats on my mind. "Your father told me to trust you."
Peeta turns to me, his face is undecided, he doesn't know what to think, like me. I let the words float into the air then settle onto the ground. They don't hang or make the air stiff and awkward. He knods, letting me speak again. "Should I?" The simple sentence carries more weight than the one before it. Yet it floats and stings the air. A sour smell lingers. Peeta goes back to looking at the cakes, then picks up one. It's orange, a soft orange. "I don't know." he says, bitting into the mini cake.
The doors open and Haymitch walks into the room. Never before had I noticed the lingering smell of alcohol on his skin, his droopy sag of his shoulders, the way his feet trudge. He goes to the table with alcohol bottles and pours a pink liquid into his glass. He sips as he walks to me, sitting in the chair across from me. He must have gotten over the fact that he pities me, since now he can make eye contact with me, and not look away.
"What are your plans?" I ask him. He is our mentor, of course, he should have a plan, he is our mentor after all.
"Stay Alive." he sips another drink, the pink staining his lips. I squint my eyes at him, starting to get annoyed at him. Peeta comes over and sits next to me.
"Seriously, that's all you have to say for us? Stay alive?" Peeta asks, clenching his teeth so hard that I can feel it. All Haymitch does to reply is knod his head and drink more. With anger, Peeta smacks the drink out from Haymitch's hand. The glass shatters on the tile floor, the pink liquid seeping into the cracks, and crawling. Haymitch snaps his eyes at Peeta, "What a waste of a glass." he speaks through his teeth. Both of them have stood, shoving their faces into each others. Peeta is taller than Haymitch, he easily looks down upon him.
"Go clean that up, Tribute."
''Make me." Peeta snarles.
I get up and push myself between them. "Stop it! Both of you!" I cry, wedging my tiny body to seperate them. Peeta looks at me with his soft blue eyes, he now has guilt flooding in them. He knows he has done wrong when I have to tell him to quit. Peeta sits down and sets his chin into his hands. I snap my eyes at Haymitch, he snarles at me with his eyes, I mimic the look. Haymitch lets out a sigh of failure and sets himself back onto his chair. "I'm going to my room." Peeta says after a moment of silence. Without a second to spare, Peeta bolts from the train cart, onto the next. Leaving Haymitch and I alone. Haymitch has gotten another glass of the pink liquid, sipping it more often than the one before. He doesn't make eye contact with me now, the pity has come back. As if me seperating them had triggered a sensitivity towards me. "You pity me." I speak, the words sharp in the thin air.
"Why do you say that?" Haymitch almost whispers, trying to cover up his words with the alcohol.
"You couldn't make eye contact with me, at the Reaping, or here. I know I am little, I know I may die, but you pitting me doesn't make it any better."
"You aren't going to die. Not while I can help it."
PART 3
"Now why would you do that?" I ask, my voice shaking
"Why wouldn't I? Peeta would want the same thing. You are the one we are concerned about."
"Because I have no chances."
"Because you're worth it." Haymitch corrects me, almost snapping. He lets out a breath then sips another drink of the alcohol. "Tomorrow, the parade will go on. That is your chance for everyone to look at you and pity you."
"I don't want them to pity me!" I scream
"You'll have to let them, if you want to live!" he screams back, standing out of his chair. He paces back and forth, running his hand through his hair. Back and forth, like a mad man, back and forth, back and forth. "Why...why are you doing this?" I ask, almost silent. Haymitch snaps his head at me, then walks to me, kneeling next to me. He sets his hand on my knee and looks me straight into my eyes.
"You are worth saving." "Why?" my question silences him. Haymitch looks away at me, gets up, and looks out the window. He shakes his head, as if trying to shoo away a bad dream, but it keeps coming back. Without looking at me, he starts to speak quietly, then grows louder with a shaking tone.
"When I was reaped in the 50th Hunger Games, it was a Quarter Quell, making it extra special. Instead of 24 tributes, there was 48. Instead of one boys and one girls from each district, it was two each. The bets were bigger, the sponserships were mass shipped, the odds were higher than ever. In that arena, I allied with a girl named Maysilee Donner. She was tweleve, like you. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, like you. When I saw you going up the steps for the Reaping...It was like seeing Maysilee all over again...I had to tell myself that you weren't her, but everyime I looked at you, I see her smile and hear her laugh..."
I see a tear start to roll down Haymitchs cheek. I get up and stand on my tip toes to wipe the tear away. Haymitch doesn't look at me, he turns his head away slightly. Disgusted that I'm seeing him like this.
"You don't need to tell me anymore. You see the girl you loved, in me. You want to have a second chance of saving her...I understand." I peck Haymitch on the cheek. I turn away and walk to the exit of the train cart. I look back at Haymitch, he finishes the remaining pink liquid in the glass, and watches out the window. "Haymitch?" I ask, my voice echoing in the still air. Haymitch turns slowly toward me, his eyes stained red now.
"Yes, Prim?" his voice shakes.
"Maysilee would have been lucky to have you."
