CHAPTER 2

For the next few weeks I'll have to stay in with my family, and watch the game showings. Sometimes we go to other family friend's houses, sometimes other families come to our house. Which of course means I can't lay in my pajamas all day. I think it's bit ridiculous that I have to be up early to get ready for hours so I can sit around the house all day.

The first night of the games nothing terribly exciting happens, by my count nine tributes die, and if I remember correctly both of the tributes from Johanna's district are out, and one from Finnick's. The cameras don't show the 12 boy much the first day, only while he was standing on his podium before the games started (his eyes are just as blue as I dreamed them to be). I don't pay much attention to the other tributes, but the rest of my family places their bids and pick favorites. The boy from District 2, Cato, will win by my family's assumptions, which wouldn't surprise me, or anybody really, careers always win. By the second day alliances have formed and I'm surprised to see the blue eyed boy with all the careers, District 12 kids are the farthest thing from careers. I wonder how he squeezed into that group. He kills a girl on the second day, with the help of Cato, which makes me think maybe he's more dangerous than he seems, and therefore an asset, and therefore maybe it's too early to write him off as dead. The thought makes the games a little better.

The next two days of the games are mundane, the game makers need to get their shit together, I think. I almost voice this opinion but I'd get in trouble if I did, for two reasons: my language is not very lady-like, and I'm sure my mother would go on and on about how hard the game makers work. Well right now the game makers are sucking at their jobs.

Things don't pick up until the end of the third day. The girl tribute from District 12 is killed by a wall of fire, and fire cannonballs, she tries to dodge them, but eventually one gets her leg and she collapses, unable to move and stuck in a forest fire, a cannon goes off a minute later.

On the fifth day the career group, and 12, are woken by a falling nest of tracker jackers that a little girl drops on them. I feel worry knot in my stomach for the boy, but he is smart, and unlike a few of the others, doesn't try to grab his supplies, he just runs, saving his own life.

After the tracker jacker excitement the next few days are boring again, four tributes die, but not in very interesting ways. I find myself wondering again where the 12 boy is, because he is not shown on screen much, until he finally reappears on the eleventh day.

He's almost dead. He's hidden himself in a muddy stream, and he has a deep cut on his thigh. I'd give him a few hours to live. His state makes me feel sad, but not in a pity kind of way, in a "I'd miss you if you died," kind of way, I think. I've never known away who has died.

I wonder when he had gotten the cut, and why I didn't see it happen, and if I could help him. Another tribute must have cut him while I was asleep, I figure. I go to bed early that night, upset that the blue eyed boy would soon be dead, and wondering why I cared so much.

I wake with a start at three am. I can help the boy, is the thought that interrupts my dreaming. I pull myself out of my bed, slide into my furry slippers, and walk to my father and mother's room. I knock loudly, because you never know what two parents are up to in bed, and trust me when I say I have no intentions of ever walking in on anything.

After relentlessly pounding on their door, my father opens the door, shielding his eyes from the hall lights, "Is everything all right? What's the matter?" his voice is groggy with sleep.

"You have to help him or he'll die! He's going to die but you can help him, I need you to help him, please," I'm talking a mile a minute, and I probably sound insane, which is arguable.

"Who? Who's going to die?" he rubs his eyes tiredly, not as rushed now that I don't seem to be in any immediate danger.

"The boy! In the games, I don't know his name, 12."

"Can't this wait until the morning?"

"No, he could be dead by now, it needs to happen now."

My father groans, which lets me know I won.

"Thanks," I stand on my tippy-toes to place a kiss on his cheek, I don't have to hover this time.

I walk back to my room and hear my father on the phone, "Is the boy from 12 still alive?... Barely? Well good, barely is enough. I'd like to sponsor him, send him whatever medicine he needs... no, cost is not an issue, just send it... a message? One second..." He calls me back to his room, which slightly frustrates me, because this is urgent, "Do you want to send a message?" he asks me.

What in the world would I say to a boy who probably hates my guts on principle, that's dying, and that I've taken a liking to despite never having talking to him.

"Stay alive?" I phrase my message as a question rather than a statement.

"'Stay alive.'" My father relays it as a statement. I move my hands in a circular motion, to say "hurry up!" "Okay, please send it quickly, the boy has limited time."

I thank my father again before returning to my room. I turn my screen on, hoping the cameras will pick up the boy. He appears on screen as his parachute falls, sending him a life saving present. It lands on his hand, waking him, his eyes flick open. Where there had previously been only weeds and mud, are a pair of blue eyes, that are unmistakable to me now. 12's hand moves from out of it's mold in the mud, reaching to the silver canister, opening it as though he has all the time in the world. I want to yell, "Hurry! Open it or you'll die." but it would be futile. He wouldn't hear me, and I'd only accomplish waking the rest of the house. Then slowly, as if he's trying to sneak around his house on creaky floorboards late at night, he spins the top off the container. His gift is a syringe, which he promptly injects into his arm, probably hoping that's the correct way to do it. I hope for him as well.

The action of saving his own life seems to drain him of energy completely, and he sinks back into the river bank. His eyes close, and he is once again hidden, the only evidence of his presence, the canister and syringe, are now floating down stream.

I find I'm unable to fall back asleep, so I watch him sleep. He rises an hour after passing out, and checks his leg. Both of our hoping worked, and his leg is undamaged once again. He rinses himself off in the stream, then abandons his hiding place. The cameras follow him walking, rather noisily for someone who's trying to not die I might add, for another fifteen minutes before switching to red haired fox-faced girl.

I watch the cameras go from tribute to tribute until Vapor comes to get me ready. I fall asleep during my bath, which earns me a lecture about attitude and behavior, when really it has nothing to do with either of those things, it has to do with the fact that I'm tired. What a novel idea, I fell asleep because I was tired.

After being prepared for a day of sitting around watching the games again, I gather with the rest of my family for another day of the show. Today a huge guy tribute gets killed by Cato, the fight is unfair because Cato had protective gear. The red haired girl that I had been watching earlier dies too, I'd say by eating some berries, because a moment after they pass her lips she is down on the ground, a cannon firing into the sky. These two deaths leave Cato and 12.

Nothing happens for the rest of the day, or the next day, the following day however is a different story. Cato and the boy run into each other. Cato slashes his knife first, and I know this is the last time I will see the boy, I'll miss his eyes.

Cato gets a deep cut into 12's leg (this boy's leg cannot catch a break), and blood immediately starts flowing. Cato is about to finish 12 off when a far off sound distracts him. It sound like Rose's dog barking, but meaner. Before either can kill the other, a pack of huge mutts explode into the trees, Cato starts running, abandoning his kill. 12 is a little smarter, and rather than trying to out run the mutts he jumps, and grabs a high branch, hoisting himself up. Half the mutts go after Cato, the other half stay at the base of the tree.

The boy will have to move farther up the tree if he doesn't want the beasts to get him. His leg wound is still bleeding all over the place, making the branches wet and slick. He makes it up a few more branches before he is white as a sheet, he'd better hope those mutts get Cato before they jump particularly high. 12 gets up one more branch, and I know he won't have much more time, he looks like he's about to pass out and fall into the mutts' razor sharp teeth.

The camera's switch to Cato, who has given up running and is instead is foolishly trying to fight the giant animals. The mutts have a hard time with Cato's chest gear, but his legs, arms and head are fair game. Each time a Cato gets a swipe with his knife a mutt gets an even bigger bite out of Cato.

Now it is just a race against the clock, which tribute will become victor is dependent on how well their bodies deal with blood loss.

Cato screams while the boy takes shallow breaths, day turns into night and the mutts are relentless. The boy in the tree becomes very still and Cato's screams stop. A cannon goes off, and it's not very apparent who the victor is, neither tribute looks alive, I wonder if the game makers accidentally killed both of the remaining tributes.

I don't find out who the Victor is until the next morning, at breakfast. My mother grumpily complains at the table that she lost a bet with her friend, because she said Cato would win, and he didn't. He died. Goddamn him for that.

Know that I know the boy won, I have a small smile on my face, that I try to hide, because everyone in my family is disappointed that Cato bleed out faster. I begin looking forward to the Victory Tour, because at the final party I get to meet the blue-eyed boy. I realize I still don't know his name, which I try to change. "What is the victor's name?" I ask.

My mother is still too grumpy and sulky to respond, Prim offers a small shrug, and my father says, "Starts with a D, maybe?"

Thanks for the help I think.

The next months pass slowly, everything scheduled for every minute as usual. And eventually it is the morning of the victor's party at the president's mansion where I can meet the victor, and learn his name.

"Good morning dear," Vapor walks into my room with her signature swaying hips, a dress bag thrown over her shoulder. Vapor dyed her skin pale blue a few days ago when "stylistic water" became the new trend. She added darker blues in swirls near her eyes and cheeks, with silver accents, and lips; her hair which is a silvery blue tumbles in soft waves down to her waist. Her dress looks like water, that is to say to moves in a flowing way, and is every shade of blue combined in the most elegant way. She really does look extra pretty today, and I let her know, putting a limited smile on her face, limited because she cannot crack the make-up she's worked so carefully on.

I try to sneak a peak in the dress bag she hung in my walk in closest, but her pale blue hand slides in and slaps my hand off of the zipper. She sashays to run my bath while I wonder about what is inside the bag.

I slide into my bath, laying my head back so Vapor can apply my make-up, while a machine threads shampoo and conditioner into my locks, as another massages my body and rubs soap, sugar, and body butter onto me, making me nice and smooth. I've learnt to enjoy the warm water, and the feeling of powders, paints, and gels on my face. Besides it's not so bad, the worst is my two week waxings, where every inch of my skin, (excluding the top of my head, eyebrows, and eyelashes; though once it was in fashion to have a hairless face, so off the eyebrows went) is lathered with sticky wax and then fabric pulls off all the hair. I remember my first treatment at age seven.

The bath drains and I feel warm air blow into my hair, gently as to not ruin my new face. After my hair is dry I feel Vapor run creams, mousses and brushes through it, at the end she sprays more product, making sure my hair won't budge.

Now I get put into my dress. I can see it's made of dark blue fabric and pearls, an absurd amount of beautiful pearls. It is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen, and I get to wear it.

I step into the dress and Vapor pulls it up over my shoulders and zips me in. Lastly she threads a headpiece into my hair, it is the same midnight blue color as my dress.

I walk with practiced slowness to my mirror that wraps in a way that allows me to see every inch of my body. My breath is completely taken away.

My make-up is a work of an artist, the small pearls that line my eyes connect up to my head piece, and there are two pieces of dark sapphires, lined with pearls that have been placed over my eyebrows. The make-up is striking in the midnight blue that lines the inside of my pearls, and the underneath. Between the top row of pearls and the sapphires there is blue-gray shadowing. My lips are midnight blue. The front part of my dark hair is pulled back, half up, it tumbles in curls down my back. I look down to my dress, it has long shimmering blue sleeves, and falls in beautiful, pearl lined ruffles."You're an artist," I tell Vapor in all seriousness.

"Oh it's nothing," she says modestly as she packs her cremes and powders and lipsticks. "I'm glad you like it." and with that she leaves.

I spend the next few minutes admiring my dress and make-up in the mirror, before I remember that tonight is the night that I'll be meeting the victor from 12. I realize I still don't know his name, and wonder how that could be.

Now that I'm conscious that I'll be meeting him, a tight knot builds in my stomach, I want to sink to the floor but my dress allows for very limited movement, so I settle with pacing. I'm still pacing when Prim walks into my room, reminding me that I've forgotten to come down for breakfast. I follow my little sister down to the table, and have the realization that I really can't do anything but stand, and walk in the dress, I have to eat standing up.

The rest of the day idles by but it also seems to go by with the blink of an eye, that's the thing about nervousness, it contorts time. Eventually, the time comes to maneuver into the car, and then the time comes to get out of the car and walk into the party.

I wonder if he's here yet, I twist my head, looking, hoping. My search is interrupted by Gale, who asks me if I'd like to dance, I accept even though I'd rather keep looking. Gale is an excellent dancer, like me he had lessons when he was growing up, as does almost every child here. We do stop spinning and twirling gracefully after a few minutes, when my father interrupts, saying there is someone he'd like me to meet.

My breath catches in anticipation as he leads me around the party, but I let out a breathe of disappointment when he introduces me to a lady, I vaguely remember her, but I can't place my finger on where I know her from.

"Effie Trinket," she sticks out her hand, "District 12 escort,"

I say "Oh!" before I can stop myself, she's the boy's escort. I quickly recompose myself, as I shake her hand I say "Katniss Everdeen," I don't have a title other than that but feeling a bit lame I add, "Nice to meet you,"

"Yes, yes! It's nice to meet you too,"

"This is the young lady that saved your boy's life!" my father says proudly, glad I picked the boy who would become the victor to save. I tune out the rest of their conversation, continuing looking for Effie's victor, but I try my best to smile and nod. After the polite small talk I'm obliged to make I wander alone for a while, starting to believe that the boy didn't show up to his own victor party. I'm eating a bit of goat cheese when I finally spot him, standing by himself, which I find odd, most people trip over themselves trying to talk to the victor.

I wonder how to go about approaching him, when Prim takes that worry away from me. She and Rose walk up to the boy in the most confident of manners, and start talking to him, I try to watch discreetly, making myself busy looking at the different types of cheese. Out of the corner of my eye I see him laughing, and he looks much more at ease now then five minutes ago. Another minute passes and then Prim snakes her way over to me, I still pretend to be oblivious. "You have to meet him!" is all she says before she grabs my wrist and pulls me through the crowd, no small feat considering the diameter of my dress is five feet. "Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen! Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark!" Prim introduces us, then she and Rose run off.

Peeta Mellark. That's his name, I've finally learnt his name after all this time. Peeta. I like it, Peeta.

"Hi," I say a bit shyly, knowing him on a screen is one thing, seeing him in person is a completely different thing, a nerve racking thing.

"Hey," he gives me a smile that makes my heart flutter in my chest.

Feeling short of breath I inhale deeply before talking again, "Quite a party huh? And all for you."

He laughs, and I decide it's my new favorite sound. His laugh is not like the controlled ones here, the ones that are not too loud or long. "That's exactly what Effie said leading me into here, Effie's my escort."

I nod, not sure where to go next, I'm not good with words, "Have you ate?" I try meekly to keep up the flow of conversation.

"Oh yeah, tons, I'm stuffed." I don't suggest he drinks a flute so he can keep eating, something tells me he'd react in a similar manner to Finnick and Johanna. I'm about to excuse myself, and give up on talking to him, when he extends his hand to me, "Would you like to dance?" I accept his hand without a second thought and he leads me to the dance floor. Dancing with Peeta is not as graceful as dancing with Gale, Peeta's not a bad dancer, he's just not as trained, but I find myself no minding. "So Katniss," he smiles when he says my name, "what do you do for fun here?"

Fun? Fun. Hm. Most of my days are scheduled down to the minute. "I like to hang out with my little sister Prim," I realize how lame that sounds after saying it.

"Prim, she's who introduced us right?" I nod, and he laughs, "She's quite the girl, very energetic, I can see why she'd be good company."

"How about you? What do you do for fun back in District 12?"

"Oh, we don't have much time for fun," he pauses for a moment, "Well actually, I guess now I do have time for fun, since they've given me everything I need for the rest of my life. In that case, I like to bake, and paint."

"What do you paint?"

"Oh anything that comes to mind," I feel like there's more he's not letting me into.

"How about baking?"

"Decorating the cakes is my favorite," I imagine the lavishly decorated cakes that I see often at weddings and birthdays and parties. "What is it like, living here?"

"Scheduled," I answer honestly. "What's it like, living there?"

He thinks for a minute, "There's a lot of hurt, and fear, and there's very little good, but what is good shines brighter than the darkest days."

I leave his answer be, suspecting I'm not in a place to question what he means.

We dance around a bit clumsily for a few more minutes, my dress is probably the fault of most of the clumsiness, it's hard to dance well when your dress extends a handful of feet away from your body. Eventually we're interrupted because President Snow has a speech to make, in Peeta's honor. Snow talks about how inspiring Peeta is, and his bravery and strength, the same victor speech he gives every year.

Afterwards Peeta and I are free to continue talking, although we're interrupted often by people that want to meet him. The night is winding down to a close when I realize how much I don't want it to, I enjoy talking to Peeta. The last person I'd want to interrupt us does, Gale, he tells me my mother is looking for me, and that my family is preparing to leave. I ask him to tell them I'll be there in a minute. He bumps into my shoulder accidentally, as he goes to look for my family. The jostling from Gale causes one of the pearls to come loose from a ruffle, I watch it fall, before it reaches the ground Peeta's hand snatches it out of mid air. His eyes lift to meet mine, and he smiles bashfully. "For you," he straightens up, and opens his hand.

"Thank you," I pinch the pearl between my fingers, meeting his eyes.

"Peeta!" a shrill impatient voice comes out of nowhere, ruining the moment. It's Effie. "I told you to be down waiting for your car at midnight sharp!" I look for a clock, it's 12:30, whoops. "Doesn't anyone have any regard for scheduling?" she sounds very distraught.

"Sorry Effie," he doesn't sound sorry at all, in fact, it looks like he's trying not to laugh at her scheduling obsession, which is a common obsession here in the Capitol.

"Well come on!" she walks away, towards the long line of cars waiting to pick up their passengers.

"Shall we?" he offers me his arm, and I accept. We walk slowly, partially because of my dress again, and partially because we (or myself at least) don't want the night to end. When we reach the cars I blurt out,

"Can we hang out again?" which is unheard of, because the only time Capitol residents and anyone from the districts mix is at special parties, such as tonight.

"Sure," he smiles easily, not showing on his face how odd my request is, "I'd like that," I'm pulled off into my car as he's pulled into his, I wave to him, and he waves back.

Once we make it home we all go straight to our rooms, with very few words. The night was long, and each of us are tired. There will be plenty of time to gossip about the party in the following days. I'm sure that my parents and Prim fall asleep as soon as their heads' hit the pillow, but I find it hard to sleep. My entire body is filled with warmth as I replay all of Peeta and I's conversations over and over again in my head. I roll the pearl he rescued for me between my hands. I make the task of sleep even more impossible is when I begin to think of when I'll see him again, which is hopefully sooner, rather than later.

I hope everyone liked the chapter! Now that they've met each other their relationship will get more interesting, and soon Katniss will seem more Katniss-y, because I realize she's a little ooc. Please review! -MGB

Edited on 07/28/14