This is The Mentor: Rory's Games re-posted. That story began to go in a direction I didn't want it to go in and got out of my hands. So, here it is. I'm not sure if I'll continue it. Just enjoy the story. And please review. It will make me smile :)
Begins on page 172, paragraph 6 (paraphrased): Catching Fire, Suzanne Collins
"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says the President. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the wooden box. The president opens it, and we can see rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell had prepared for centuries. The president pulls out an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He takes out the slip of paper within and reads it without hesitation, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the purest among them were harmed during the Dark Days, the male and female tributes will all be of the age of twelve."
We all look at each other. All I can think about is Rue, and how she was so small, so pure. And then I remember about the Hawthornes, "Rory," I whisper. I think about how Prim's name was drawn, even though her name was only entered once. Rory has those same odds, since Gale made him promise not to sign up for tesserae.
I wanted to go to Hazelle, to tell her it was okay. That even if Rory's name was drawn, Peeta would never let him die. I wanted to see Gale. I couldn't imagine what must be going through his head right now. But instead I find myself walking up the stairs, getting undressed until I'm in my underclothes, and going to bed.
Knock. Knock.
The empty, hollow, echoing noise of my knocks on Gale's door seems so frightening I almost run, but I have to be here. I have to comfort them.
Vick answers the door. He appears older than Hazelle. His eyes are red and puffy, and I assume he didn't sleep. As I walk in, I can tell there's been mourning here. It's like when I visited Gale's home for the first time, shortly after our dads died. You can tell when there's been suffering. The sadness settles into the air and hangs there. It's heavy and gives you the feeling of suffocation.
Hazelle, Rory, and Gale sit at the table glumly. Vick joins them. Hazelle appears as if she's been crying. When she looks at me, it's meant as a look of kindness, of thanks, but to me it seems as if I'm intruding, that I should let them be. I don't leave, though. I stand behind Gale, looking at my shoes.
"I'm so sorry," I choke out.
"It's not your fault," Hazelle assures me. I knew that, but it feels like my fault.
"Rory hasn't even been picked yet. We don't know that he's going into the arena. There's still hope," Gale says, turning to me.
I nod. Of course there's still hope. But Prim...
I push the thought away. Something pokes my leg. I look under the table and see Posy. Sweet Posy, who reminds me so much of a younger Prim, long before I went into the arena. Before she was forced to grow up too soon. Forced to learn how to cope with the fact that she may never see me again. If Rory is chosen, Posy and Vick will be put through the same thing.
I pick Posy up. She appears to be fine. I assume that she doesn't know. Of course she doesn't. Hazelle wouldn't do that to her.
"Mommy's sad," she tells me. I can't help but smile.
After a few days, when Hazelle had calmed down and we agreed that we should at least enjoy the days until the reaping, just in case, I suggested that Gale teach Rory how to hunt. He insisted that I come with him and help him, since he's not the best teacher. I wanted to argue, but we still weren't all that comfortable talking to each other, and I can't help but remember last year, when Peeta and I dressed each other up for Haymitch.
I end up in the woods with Rory and Gale teaching Rory how to make his own bow and arrows and how to find edible plants. We also work on getting Rory in shape, so he can endure more, and be more like the Careers.
The day of the reaping comes. It's hot and sultry. Beads of sweat roll down my forehead. Everyone stands silent in the square, trying to ignore the loaded machine guns that are trained at them. One hundred Peacekeepers were brought in the day before. I guess people are more hysterical when the younger ones are reaped. I understand. Prim was too young, is too young.
I sit on the stage. Peeta sits to my right, holding my hand between the seats. I catch myself squeezing his hand and wonder if he minds. When I start to loosen my grip, he regains his on my trembling hand. Haymitch is wasted, and sits to my left. Rory stands in a roped off area with all the other boys his age. I take a deep, unsteady breath that seems heavy with the hot air.
Effie bounces onto the stage the best she can while wearing ridiculously high heels. No wonder she seemed taller. This year, she's selected a metallic gold wig that reflects the sunlight and hurts my eyes. I don't pay attention to the words she speaks until I hear her signature, "and may the odds be ever in your favor," before waltzing over to the ball with the girls' names in it. She reaches in her hand and pulls out a slip. In her shrill, capitol voice, she reads the name, "Molly Skinner."
I recognize the name, but not a face. But as Molly walks up to the stage, I see her face, and the muffled shriek that Prim releases makes sense.
Molly Skinner is Prim's best friend.
No. Anyone but her. I can't do this. If she dies, Prim will never forgive me.
I remember her visiting us once in a while, well, visiting Prim. Prim would sometimes go to her house. I remember dropping Prim off at her birthday party. Yes. Molly was one year younger than Prim.
"Okay, now the boys," trills Effie, interrupting my thoughts. As she pulls out the slip from the glass ball, I feel like I might faint. But I keep my footing. Until Effie reads the boy's name.
It's Rory.
This time I do faint, missing Hazelle's, Gale's, Vick's, and little Posy's reactions.
When I open my eyes, Peeta is kneeling over me, his blue eyes staring into mine. His soft smile bringing one to my face, and his hand helping me up to face reality.
I hadn't been out for long. This I knew because Rory was just walking up the stairs of the stage as I sat back down. This was worse. If one was to win, the other had to die. Either way I'd end up with more people hating me.
I look back and see Hazelle, her face in her hands. Gale was rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. Vick and Posy were crying, no, sobbing and clutching each other. So much for missing their reactions.
My thoughts became clear again. Even though we prepared him, I would have been more than happy if it had been a waste of time. All I wanted was Rory safe. And then there was Molly. It was my job to protect her. I couldn't do that. At least, not fully. If I wanted Rory to win, I wouldn't do my best when trying to save Molly, and she would die.
After they shake hands, Molly and Rory are led into the Justice Building to say their last goodbyes. I remember going into that room last year. Peeta and I have an hour, so we offer to escort Haymitch home. We both take an arm and hold him up on the walk back to his house. He collapses at the kitchen table, then slumps down on the floor, out cold. Peeta puts him in a chair. Then we walk back to the square. "It'll be okay, you know. Unless you think I'm that bad of a mentor," he takes my hand. "No, but Gale seems to think so. He's never liked you, you know."
He chuckles softly, "I know. Well, I'll prove him wrong. I'll-"
I silence him with a kiss. I can't even think as he picks me up in return. This lasts for about a minute, possibly days, I don't know. It's hard to tell time when your head is spinning. We walk back without further conversation.
We still have quite a while until the train leaves for the Capitol, so we decide to say goodbye to our families. I catch Prim on her way out of the Justice Building. She must have just said goodbye to Molly. "I'm sorry, Prim," I whispered into her hair as we embraced. Her hair smelled like strawberries. "It's okay. You're the best mentor she could have. She'll win," I trembled. I couldn't let Prim down. It wasn't fair. I walked over to my mother, "Good luck, honey," she said. I nodded. Gale and his family walk out of the Justice Building.
"Gale," I begin, but he silences me with a look that seems to knock the wind out of me. "I know he'll be fine. It's him that I'm worried about," Gale nodded towards Peeta, who was saying goodbye to his brothers.
"Will you stop? You know he wouldn't let him die. At least, not on purpose," I storm away from him and walk over to Peeta. I ended up embarrassing myself, because I had to walk back past Gale in order to say goodbye to Hazelle, Vick and Posy. Soon it's time to board the train.
District 12 gathers on the platform to say goodbye. I remember doing this last year, but this time I know I'm safe. This time I will come home. This time I'm responsible for Molly Skinner's life.
Like every year, we have to stand in the doorway of the train and let the reporters snap pictures. Then we're allowed inside. It's just like I remembered it. We're each given our own chambers again. I take a cool shower and dress in a light blue t-shirt and dark pants. It's so much more comfortable than the hot, sweaty yellow dress I was wearing for the reaping. Effie told us to be at dinner in five minutes. I find Peeta in the hallway. He had also showered. We walk to the dining room where we ate last year. We take our seats next to each other. We had only just sat down when Effie floats in with Molly and Rory.
The first course of dinner is a thick, red soup that none of us recognize. The soup's followed by a fruit salad, followed by beef and corn, stuffed pasta shells, and a white chocolate covered sponge cake with strawberries and whipped cream covered in a light orange sauce. I remind Rory and Molly to save room for the next course throughout the meal, but they don't listen. They eat everything. After the dinner, I can tell it might make a reappearance. They aren't used to such rich food.
Effie leads the four of us into another room to watch the other reapings. I try to remember the names of the tributes, but none stick in my mind. I'm too busy thinking about how all of them are twelve. There are even some volunteers. Those stick in my mind. The boy from 1. Both from 4. When District 11 comes up, I pay attention. The girl tribute, Belle, resembles Rue in structure, but she has lighter skin. The boy's name is Tad, and he in no way resembles Thresh. Tad is small and quirky. Thresh was big and strong.
Next is District 12. Our reaping is boring. Just a bunch of scared families gathered together to watch their children get called to their deaths. The commentators are even bored, until I faint. Then they laugh at me. I despise them.
Shortly after that, the program ends and Effie leads Molly and Rory away to their rooms. Peeta and I make our way back as well. Peeta walks me to my room, even though ours are right next to each other. As I reach for the handle, I hear a scream. We run towards the sound, which was in Molly's room down the hall. When we peer into Molly's chamber, we spot Effie, covered in vomit, and Molly, wiping the vomit off her mouth.
"I'm very, very sorry," she says. Effie half-heartedly tells her it's okay and pushes past us, mumbling something about under-fed children from District 12. Peeta returns to his room while I help Molly clean up. She takes a shower and gets into some satin pajamas that were in her dresser. I say goodnight and walk back to my room, exhausted.
I can hear Effie rapping on Molly's door from down the hall, and I feel sorry for her. For both of us. We've both been awakened early. I throw on the first set of clothes I grab, braid back my hair, and walk out to meet Peeta.
"Hi. How did you sleep?" he asks me.
"Good. I was too tired to have nightmares. You?"
"I saw Snow throwing you in the Games while I watched back home. He morphed into a mutt and ripped you apart." I shudder as I remember Cato, and how he had the same fate.
We walk back to the dining room for breakfast. There's hot chocolate again, like last year, and with one sip both Molly and Rory are hooked. They drain their cups and ask for more, but Effie tells them they must eat first. They reluctantly eat their pastries, omelets, and fried potatoes.
Then the car goes dark, and I assure Molly and Rory that it's just the tunnel that runs through the mountains. They both relax, but only until the light floods the car and they rush to the window to look at the Capitol.