Haymitch is struggling to get up and Katniss and I exchange a glance. What on earth are we going to do with Haymitch? He clearly isn't in a state to help us in the Games like this. If he's this bad all the time…well no wonder we haven't had a victor in so long. He stirs. "I tripped? Smells bad." Disgustingly, he ends up smearing vomit all over his face in an attempt to wipe his nose.
Almost in unison, Katniss and I each grab one of Haymitch's arms and practically drag him back to his room. He really needs a bath. We heft him into the tub and start the shower. He is so out of it I don't think he even realizes what is going on. Katniss looks at our mentor in disgust. I can tell she really doesn't want to be the one dealing with him.
"It's okay," I tell her. "I'll take it from here." She seems slightly relieved. "All right. I can send one of the Capitol people to help you." I shake my head vehemently. "No. I don't want them." Haymitch is from home. We have to take care of our own, right? Besides, the Capitol people are so fake, I want as little as possible to do with them. They stand for everything the Districts do not. Especially District 12.
I grimace a little as I have to rotate Haymitch in the bathtub to strip him down. It takes a lot more effort to get all the vomit off of him but soon he is covered in lather. The smell of roses assaults my nostrils and I wrinkle my nose a little. Roses are great and all, but whatever they put in this soap is seriously strong.
After what seems like an eternity, I manage to get Haymitch completely clean and dry. The buttons in the shower are ridiculous and it takes me forever to figure out which ones would help me out. I actually end up getting sprayed in the face and am bewildered for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. At my laughter, Haymitch stirs a little and begins spewing forth nonsense mumbling.
It is really awkward trying to get him dressed so I just set him on the bed in his boxers and put a thin blanket on him. Haymitch's mumbling continues for a few moments more before he begins to snore loudly. Grinning, I head to my own compartment and now that I sort of know how to operate the showers here, I take one myself. Unfortunately, I still haven't figured out how to avoid the rose perfumed soap. Do they have any other scents here?
I am overwhelmed with homesickness. The bakery. In just a few hours, my family will be up, the scent of baking bread wafting through the house. My brothers will be squabbling as usual, but my father will set them straight before my mother wakes up and whips them. Maybe Katniss' friend will already be there trading a squirrel for bread. My mother doesn't like the arrangement, so my father would always get them when she was away.
My mother prefers to spend most of her time socializing in town with the wives of the other townsmen, so generally, we are spared her wrath. Spending time with my father and brothers is one of the things I enjoy most. Enjoyed most. I'll never see them again. Soon, I'll be dead, and they'll be receiving my cold, mangled body in a box.
That thought snaps me back to reality and the fond reminiscing of home ends. I have a really hard time falling to sleep after that. I dream about all the horrible ways I could die in the arena, how Katniss could die, how I could see her die, how my family and friends will have to watch me die. What is Delly going to do when she sees my death play out on screen? How will Anton and Rogerrik react?
Effie wakes me up early, and I don't feel rested at all. She offers me this creamy looking brown liquid and tells me to get up because "it's going to be another big, big, big day! Drink your hot chocolate, it'll wake you up a little." I answer groggily. "Whazzat?" But she's quickly gone, and I tentatively take a sip of the sweet stuff. It's really, really good. I figure if this is my wakeup call, breakfast must be worth going to. So I get changed and trudge into the dining car and start stuffing my face with rolls, the first food I see. These are even better than the ones we make back home, and that's saying something.
I stop when I hear a chuckle, and realize Haymitch is already there. Oh. The look on his face makes it clear he knows at least a little of what happened last night. I turn bright red, and of course, Effie takes that moment to lead Katniss in. Just my luck. I'm about to die and I'm not going to get the chance to tell this girl all I've wanted to say since I was five. And now she probably thinks I'm an idiot. She has Gale back home anyway…
"Sit down, sit down," Haymitch says impatiently and Katniss complies and immediately sizes up the platter set before us. It's a feast, really, but here it's just breakfast. Unbelievable. She eyes a cup of what Effie gave me this morning and scowls because she doesn't seem to know what it is. I smile. "They call it hot chocolate. It's good." She takes a sip, and then immediately drains the whole cup and digs into her food. I have never in my life seen a girl eat like that.
I have to hold back my chuckle because I know that'll just make her mad, so I sit back and continue to eat my rolls, deciding to dunk them in my second cup of hot chocolate. It's actually a pretty good combination. But as I see Haymitch drinking like there's no tomorrow, I get mad. He is NOT going to do this to us, and just let us die. Well, I know I'm going to die, but I will not stand for Haymitch not at least giving Katniss a chance to live.
"So you're supposed to give us some advice," Katniss finally says. Haymitch gives her a look. "Here's some advice. Stay alive." He bursts out laughing and I realize it's at our expense. I'm furious. I knock the stupid glass right out of his hand. "That's very funny. Only not to us." Haymitch pauses a moment before punching me in the jaw, hard. I actually fall out of my chair. I'm in a lot of pain, but there is no way I'm complaining in front of Katniss. She's tough and won't respect weakness.
Apparently she's as mad as I am, because she sticks a knife in the table right where his fingers were a moment before. Haymitch seems to be sizing us up. "Well what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" I realize it's probably safe for me to get up, so I do and grab a handful of ice from the container of fruit and hold it up to my jaw, trying to prevent swelling. I've learned the hard way that punches hurt a lot worse the second day.
Haymitch takes my ice away. "No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena." I frown. Where is he going with this? "That's against the rules." Haymitch shrugs. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say that you fought, you weren't caught, even better." He turns his attention toward Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"
My eyes are trained on Katniss now. I am slightly curious why Haymitch is suddenly paying attention to us, but I bet it's because Katniss is such a strong competitor. I've seen what she can do with a bow and arrow. My father's squirrels, which he shares with us when our mother isn't around, never have arrow wounds in the body. She can bring a squirrel down by hitting it in the eye. And squirrels are fast!
She strides over to the table and snatches up the knife. She eyes her target and throws. The knife sticks perfectly between two panels of wood on the wall. I'm in awe as Haymitch summons us with a nod. "Stand over here. Both of you." He circles us and really sizes us up. He's almost uncomfortably close. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get a hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."
Attractive enough? Katniss is beautiful. Her gray eyes remind me of the sky when there's a thunderstorm, and her dark hair is luscious. I am willing to bet anything that she doesn't see it, but Katniss Everdeen is definitely a beauty. She's so graceful. I've never seen her smile, but I'm sure if I was lucky enough to, it'd be perfect too. But what about me? I'm not attractive in the slightest. I haven't been able to catch the eye of the only girl I've ever been interested in. What is Haymitch going on about?
"All right, I'll make a deal with you," Haymitch says, breaking me from my raging thoughts. "You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say." "Fine," I say in a voice more confident than I felt. I still need to tell him my plan to get Katniss out of there alive. It isn't fully formed, but I have to find a way.
Katniss speaks up. "So help us. When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-" Haymitch cuts her off and she scowls. "One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what, don't resist." Katniss looks mutinous. "But-" "No buts. Don't resist," Haymitch says as he saunters off with his bottle of alcohol.
I want to say something, but I find myself at a loss for words as we zoom through a giant tunnel. When light finally breaks through the windows, we both rush over to see. I have to admit, the Capitol is gorgeous. The TV doesn't quite capture what it actually looks like. It's so colorful and bright for a place that's greatest entertainment is watching twenty four kids kill each other every year.
I see a bunch of the strange looking Capitol people pointing eagerly at our train and I try to block out my hatred for these people and remember to smile and wave. I try to convince myself I am doing this for Katniss. I have to keep waving and being cheerful and pretending I like these people who have doomed us to die.
I notice Katniss gawking at me, shocked I am interacting with these idiots. "Who knows? One of them may be rich." She backs away from me and I can't help thinking how she is already probably plotting my death. She doesn't know me, really. I know she wants to win to get back to her family, and I am all for that plan. I know I am going to die, but more than anything, I don't want Katniss Everdeen to be the tribute that kills me.
