I stand off to the side of the stage, watching the video of President Snow, mouthing the lines of what he's saying. I've seen this video many, many times and have memorized the lines. Once the video is over I walk back onto stage to collect the tributes. They rise once they see me come. Oh! How I feel so respected. I join them at the microphone for one last word.
"Your tributes-" I start, but don't get very far before a chain of hands raise in the air from the crowd. Each one holds just three fingers up. Index, middle, ring. Index, middle, ring. All eyes look at the girl, Katniss on my left. She opens her mouth as if to say something and then closes it abruptly. Even the boy, Peeta, on my right, looks at her. His hand slowly makes it's way into the three-fingered sign that the rest of the crowd has up. But instead of raising his hand to Katniss, he keeps it near it's side. "Well then!" I say grabbing a hold of everyone's attention again. "Your tributes, once again, Peeta Mellark and-" I look at Katniss, she seemed like an icon here. "Kat- Katniss Everdeen. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds EVER be in your favor! Or rather, their favor!" I laugh, and realize I'm the only one laughing. Then I push the two tributes off stage towards the car that had just arrived.
Once at the car, the two tributes sit inside the back. I close the door behind them and then look around. "Where is Haymitch?" I ask one guy in a suit.
"He left early due to some- illness." The guy answers and fakes a smile.
"You mean, he was too intoxicated to even show up to meet our tributes. Well! He missed a great show! We had a volunteer. It was quite something!" I smile and then go to the car. "His own fault." I whisper, straighten my skirt, and get into the passenger seat up front. "Peeta, Katniss," I say, craning my neck to face them. "We'll be arriving shortly to the train station where you will be saying goodbye to your family members." I look directly at Katniss. She'd have to say goodbye to that pretty, little sister of her's. "Then we will take a one-day one-night train to the capitol. Once there, you will spend a few nights, attend a few banquets, be interviewed, yata yata and more. At the end, you will attend the Games! One of you must win." I say, seriously. They both look at me as if I'm completely insane. I guess they didn't believe that either of them could win. I sigh and then turn back around to watch out the front windshield.
It takes us just ten minutes to drive through the broken-down District 12 to get to the train station. Our tributes get out of the car, slowly and silently, perhaps still pondering the idea of winning, and go into the station. Each one of them will take a room where they will be able to say goodbye to their family members. While they say goodbye, I will sit out here, bored out of my mind. But I try to look on the positive side; At least I'm not the tribute. I'm not saying goodbye to my loved ones. I'm not going to die.
I settle myself on a wooden bench inside the train station. I fold my hands and hum the capitol's song. I watch the family members of the tributes walk in and out. Crying and angry. Katniss' mother and sister. Her mother, silent as a shadow, her sister, red from crying. A boy walks by too and goes into Katniss' room. He's got black hair and beautiful eyes. He was the boy that took Katniss' sister Prim away when Katniss volunteered. And then there was Peeta's parents. The bakers. They don't look quite as sad as Katniss' family. Last but not least, the mayor of District 12's daughter, Madge, goes into Katniss' room. Before she was wearing a beautiful gold pin, but when she comes back out, the pin is no longer attached to the girl's blouse. Each tribute may take one item from home. That was the rule. I wonder if the small token was Katniss' item from home.
Just a few minutes after Madge visited Katniss, both tributes come back out. They look teary eyed and tired. Katniss especially. I clasp my hands together, with a loud sound.
"Well then! Are we ready to go?" I ask, knowing that I will not receive an answer. So, I answer my own question, "Yes. The train is here. Let us go." We all pile onto the silver train, and enter a elegant living room. The seats are blue as the sea and tables are filled with beautiful food. I take a cinnamon twist and sit in a chair. I motion the tributes to follow. Like slaves, they do.
"When will we be able to meet Haymitch?" Peeta asks, folding his hands.
"Oh, him? Well, he must be in the train now!" I smile and take another bite of the twist.
"When will we be able to train?" He asks another question.
"Um, I'm not too sure, really. Perhaps when Haymtich is ready to teach you?"
"Isn't it true that Haymitch went to alcohol after his games? He's no help if he's drunk all the time." Katniss mumbles. I look at her, surprised.
"He shall be fine, dear." I say quickly. Although I knew I was wrong. Haymitch? Fine? Never.
"I'm sure he's in the bathroom right now, puking his brains out." She adds, almost silently.
"Um, why don't we get all washed up for dinner? Afterwards we can watch the reaping videos!" I smile and rise to my feet. "Haymitch!" I sing to the door leading to other train cars. "Dinner time!" Then I walk over to the tributes and take their hands. "To the dining car!"
The dining car is much like the living room car. A mahogany table sits in the middle with matching chairs all around it. Food galore piles up the table. I take my seat and make the tributes take their seats also. "To the tributes of District 12!" I sing with a smile and raise my glass. Everyone just stares at me, not bothering to raise their glasses. "Okay then." I whisper, putting the glass down. Haymitch walks in holding two wine bottles. He sits down.
"So, Haymitch, when will we begin training?" Peeta asks, making small talk. I watch, silently.
"Well I can't really do much for you while we're on this train." Haymitch hisses. He picks up a bread roll and stuffs the whole entire thing in his mouth.
"Do you have any advice for the arena?" Peeta tries again.
"Peeta, he's a drunk. Everything he says is a lie. He can't keep sober for even a minute. His advice is pointless." Katniss stabs her butter knife into the wonderful wood table near Haymtich's hand. I gasp.
"It's mahogany!" I cry.
"What do you know about me?" Haymitch spits at Katniss. "You just met me! You couldn't possibly know anything about me or my life!"
"I know you were in the Hunger Games and that you are a worthless drunk!" She hisses.
"You're going to be the first to die. You can't keep your damn mouth closed." Haymitch calms down and takes a drink of his alcoholic beverage. Katniss rises and stomps out of the dining car.
"Well, that went well." I sigh.
"You shut up, Trinket." Haymitch points his wine bottle towards me. "You wouldn't survive a minute in the games. You'd be the person to step off your platform during the countdown and blow up."
"Someone needs to learn about manners." I mutter and continue eating. The rest of dinner was silent. Katniss never came back to finish eating, Peeta didn't ask any more questions and Haymitch drank three bottles of wine. After dinner, it was time to watch the reaping videos.