Knock knock knock! Someone strongly knocking on the door wakes Peeta up the next morning. Having gotten scantily any amount of sleep last night, he merely groans in response to the rapping.
"Peeta?" Effie says on the other side. She sounds nervous. "Peeta, hurry up. You and Katniss have to get to the training center in thirty minutes!" She says, and then her heels create a click clack clamor as she walks off.
Peeta reluctantly gets out of bed, dragging himself into his bathroom. He removes himself of clothing and enters the shower. There's a metal panel with a variety of colorful buttons and levers that must control the water temperature and whatnot. There has to be at least fifty of them, all different colors and sizes.
What does this one do? The sleepy boy ponders. He turns the biggest lever and instantly the water comes shooting fast through the nozzle, extremely cold. Peeta jumps in surprise, making as much distance between him and the freezing water. He apprehensively moves his arm around it and pushes a red button with an H marked on it. The water then steams. Peeta tests it with his hand and now it's burning hot.
"Ah! Shit!" He screams, the water scalding his fingers. Furiously, he pushes a silver, square button and is instantly met with relief. The water is perfect.
After getting himself soaked, the boy tentatively clicks a green button on the corner. Jets of shampoo from the ceiling instantaneously target his head, burning his eyes.
"Ah!" Peeta shouts, cringing. Blind, he randomly pushes all the buttons he can in a desperate frenzy to rid his eyes of the stinging concoction. In return, the shower spouts out liquids of all colors, attacking his skin in every direction with every formula possible. Loofahs and many other abrasive materials grind Peeta in places he does not want to be grinded in. The water temperature violently jerks from hot to cold, oscillating indecisively.
"Crap!" He yells.
After that pleasant session with the Capitol's technology, Peeta grouchily walks over to the gang at the dining table wearing a t-shirt and jeans and begins to eat a luscious breakfast, his coin nestled deep in his pocket. He tries to stay out of the group's conversations, still cranky from this morning.
Then he notices Haymitch nervously stealing glances at him between every bite, like he's in deep concentration. Katniss as well, nervously darting her eyes between her plate and Peeta, irritating the boy even further. They do it long enough for Peeta to finally speak, annoyed.
"What?" He says harshly, unlike himself. Haymitch sighs and he and Katniss look at each other, as if they know something Peeta won't like to hear.
"Well…" Haymitch begins after swallowing his food—this gets a smile from Effie—"We've got a game plan…" He says it in a way as if it's a shaky topic.
"So? what is it?" Peeta asks, looking at both of them with knitted eyebrows, growing anxious to know what this is.
"Sweetheart over here doesn't seem to have many…redeeming qualities," he says frankly. Katniss sneers at Haymitch for this. "But So I've come up with a way to get you guys sponsors. We're going to spark a fake love-interest between you and Katniss." He says, looking expectantly at the boy.
"What!" Peeta asks incredulously, his eyes narrowed in confusion. A love interest? "Is there any other way?"
"Hey, Sweetheart over here went along with it so I thought maybe you two already had something…" He stops himself when Katniss gives him a frightening glare.
"Is this all just a game to you?" She says agitatedly, although slightly blushing.
"These are the Games, Sweetheart." He says to her, smiling victoriously. She simply looks at him irately.
"Oh my! Look at the time!" Effie breaks the tension while looking at her wristwatch. "Let's go. C'mon! Up Up!" She forces an arguing Haymitch from his seat.
"So what do you say, boy?" Haymitch asks Peeta when the group is in the elevator, descending down to the training room. He looks at Peeta expectantly. The boy contemplates the idea for a good period of time.
A love interest…me and Katniss? He thinks, bewildered. He has never thought of Katniss in that sense. She just doesn't seem attractive. Always occupied with feeding her family, she never really had good friends. Peeta never got to know her well. Well there was that one time when they were little, and Peeta tossed her some bread. She just looked so hungry, so desperate for food. But that was the closest they got to love.
And acting like he loves her is so sudden, so unexpected. But what if it's the only way? What if he's in the arena, and he's starving to death or fighting off a venomous infection, and that one sponsor is all he needs to live? One sponsor that was moved by the fabricated love between him and Katniss, and willing to put some money together to give Peeta his means of survival.
This is a weapon. A weapon that'll help keep him alive, it will give him a chance to win. Maybe everyone will die of hypothermia, or a virus, or simply by another tribute; and Peeta will be the only victor. Because he got that sponsor. And then he can go home. Back to District 12, and never have to think of the Hunger Games ever again. Back with his family and friends. And Mabel…
Mabel! Peeta recalls the girl. "I-I love you, Peeta…" He remembers her words. Will he be betraying her by saying he loves Katniss? She's the only one of his friends that came to say goodbye. Should he stab her in the back like this? "Promise me you'll try to come back!" Her desperate voice replays so vividly in his mind. He promised he'll try to come back. He didn't promise to love her. When he accepted the coin, he promised her he'll never forget himself, not confess his undying love. He vowed to her to stay true to himself, and that's exactly what he's going to do.
"Okay." Peeta says to Haymitch seriously. Haymitch's lips curl to a satisfied smirk.
"That a boy!" He says proudly, patting Peeta on the back. Peeta just rolls his eyes, and then they chance over Katniss looking out the elevator to the ground below.
She's blushing.
Down the escalator and at the doors of the training room, Katniss and Peeta have a last-minute discussion with Haymitch. Effie has already left to tend to her "schedule".
"Now a last bit of advice," he says to both of the tributes listening to him "Try to stay together as much as possible. And it wouldn't be bad if you guys held hands as well." He says, looking at them with a tilted-forward head. Peeta scoffs at the advice with a shake of his head. Katniss does the same, although a little flustered.
"Haha! Just joking with you guys," he says, patting them on the shoulders. "But…Sweetheart, go without Peter for now, I need to talk to him," he says, purposely calling Peeta's name wrong. What does Haymitch have to keep secret with Peeta so much that even his "lover" can't hear it? Katniss eyes them suspiciously, but walks into the Training Center nonetheless. Once she's out of earshot, Haymitch starts to talk with Peeta, slightly quieter.
"Peter, there's more I need to tell you," he says. "You're strong right? I've seen you at the bakery lifting those giant sacks of flour." Peeta can't tell where he's going with this. "It shouldn't be a problem for you to make an alliance with the careers." He says, nodding as if the deal's already been settled. But Peeta is taken aback by the notion, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Are you serious? Those blood-loving monsters?" He speaks in a harsh whisper, recalling Cato's and Clove's terrifying dispositions. "Don't I already have enough charm by acting like I love Katniss?"
"You've got as much charm as Effie's got bad table manners." Haymitch spits back at him, his eyebrows knit in frustration. "It's Katniss that really wooed the crowd last night." He confesses to Peeta, and then sighs. "Look. Forming an alliance with the careers is the best chance you've got to living. You want that, don't you?" He looks at Peeta.
"Yes, Haymitch. I want to live," he says blatantly. Do you think I want to die? "But they're never going to let me be one of them anyway," Peeta retorts.
"Just strut your stuff." Haymitch replies matter-of-factly, smiling. "Show them a little of what you've got, like weight-lifting or whatever, and then wow them with your score in the private session with the Gamemakers tonight." His eyes sparkle like a maniac, as if he's created an ingenious plot that confirms Peeta's survival. The baker looks at him for a few seconds, contemplating the plan. Strut my stuff? This is never going to work. Why would anyone be amazed at my weight-lifting? Yeah, 'cause there's going to be random weights in the arena for me to lug at people.
But although the argument in his head, what other option does Peeta have to ensure he lives? How will he be safe with no allies in the Games? He won't. Even Katniss will turn on him soon enough. There's only been a handful of Hunger Games where lone wolves have won. His chances of survival in the Games are low without allies.
But even if he went with the idea of forming an alliance, would they ever accept him? Will those cold, ruthless monsters ever allow them to be in their little gang? Then again, the task of impressing Glimmer and Marvel doesn't seem all that challenging, though. Glimmer seems overly superficial, and she doesn't show many redeeming qualities to remark. Marvel on the other hand hasn't shown much of his personality to Peeta yet. One thing Peeta's noticed about the boy though is that he manages to stick with his district counterpart where ever she goes. The task of swaying the duo into accepting Peeta to their pack doesn't feel impossible, as long as he can impress them.
But then what about Clove and Cato? How will he impress those ferocious careers? They don't seem the ones to let anyone in their circle of close friends, let alone a radius of five feet. Especially not after how Peeta and Katniss have outshone them last night. They must still be furious at District 12 for that. It's them who seem the impossible ones to impress to Peeta. Is there any way to be acknowledged as a fierce tribute, ready to kill at any moment, like them? How can he show his strength other than just lifting frivolous weights? Then it hits him.
The scores. Just like Haymitch said. The one and only chance to be permitted in as a career for him. If Peeta can impress the Gamemakers tonight and acquire an astronomically high score, then that might just be enough to make Cato and Clove think again. Just maybe. But just getting a score of ten out of twelve is impossible for a simple baker from District 12.
Nonetheless, Peeta has to try. He can't sit around sulking when his chances of survival dwindle with every precious moment. If this is truly the only way to get back home, he has no choice. He must do it. Will Haymitch's plan even work, Peeta isn't sure. He isn't even sure of himself at the moment. And the odds of him getting into the career circle are one in a million. No, one in a billion.
But then again, the odds have proven themselves to be quite unpredictable.
After pondering over the plan for days on end, Peeta finally gives Haymitch a hesitant nod. This suffuses Haymitch's face with a silly grin.
"Good choice, Peter." And he strides back to their floor, elated. His excited manner can't help but put a smirk on Peeta's lips. Does he really believe in me so much? The boy muses. Peeta doesn't even believe in himself. But if Haymitch can trust in his abilities, he can as well.
The baker walks into the training room, a hopeful trace of confidence within his gait, the coin in his pocket burning with an optimistic fervency.
The bright light of the humongous gymnasium almost overwhelms him when he enters. It's a wide, spacious corridor lined with training areas around the edges, allotted for training a wide array of different survival techniques. The areas are all manned by a trainer, some by two. All the tributes have already gotten there before Peeta, strewn across the room, actively involved in the training. One whole wall is dedicated to the Gamemakers. They sit on an elevated stage lain with extravagant furniture, feasting on a buffet of rich, luscious foods. They're there to look over the training, to see how it's going, and then this evening they will evaluate each tribute individually.
Peeta spots Katniss huddled over a plant a few yards away. He makes a beeline for the only familiar face. Once he gets there, he notices she's kneeling in front of some type of water plant, the trainer is opposite her. This section must teach about plants and other flora.
"Hey, Katniss." Peeta greets Katniss warmly, kneeling next to her, a smile on his face. He must keep up Haymitch's love-interest plot.
She seems hesitant for a second, but then remembers the plan. "Hey, Peeta," she says with unexpected happiness. The smile on her face is so unnatural it's as if it shouldn't be there. "Guess what this plant is called," she asks, pointing to it.
"Oh, I don't know," he says back playfully. "What is it?"
"It's a katniss plant," she says, such a warm expression on her face surprises Peeta a little bit. "It's me!" She's either genuinely happy or a really good actor. Peeta surmises the latter.
"That's cool." He replies, and she and the trainer begin to talk all about water plants and their nutrient contents. Somewhere in between this languishing lecture, Peeta zones out. His eyes begin to wander. In his seat, he examines the other tributes training at various locations.
Glimmer's at the weapons section, throwing stray arrows and missing targets by miles. Even though her terrible aim, she claps gleefully whenever she randomly shoots the rim of a target, jumping with joy. She looks at Marvel, and he gives her encouraging comments. He, as well, practices with swords and whatnot, a much better wielder than Glimmer though.
Thresh is hidden in a corner, only partaking in the edible foods training area. Rue is nowhere to be seen. But then Peeta spots her tentatively walking in Katniss's direction. She sits innocently down beside Katniss and stays quiet, listening to the trainer talk about what poisonous plants smell like.
Clove is practicing knife-throwing quite a distance away from her counterpart, Cato. They seem to have different fortes at battle, Peeta observes. She seems more cunning than Cato is, more agile. But either way, both of them are only trained in close, melee-like combats. They're probably inept at anything to do with surviving in the wild. Of course, careers don't need to know anything about hunting or gathering; all they need to do is get to the cornucopia and plunder all of its treasures.
Returning to reality, Peeta continues examining the room, his eyes hover over the mystery girl, her flaming hair a red beacon, alarming him. He remembers his nightmare last night. Burning in a blanket that looked just like the cape on his costume. Her just watching him, breaching the sanctity of his home.
Peeta shakes his head violently, trying to stir his mind from the haunting thoughts. Then he sees what she's actually doing. She's at the knot-tying area, a much neglected training section, far away from any other tributes. She doesn't really seem like she's actually paying attention, just darting her eyes here and there from the sides, getting a view of everyone around her. Then her eyes meet Peeta's.
They meet for less than a second. The most inconceivably shortest amount of time. And yet, she pierces his soul with those golden orbs.
Peeta quickly acts like he's looking somewhere else, and his vision chances upon Cato. He's in a heated sword fight with an older, male trainer. Their gleaming swords clashing against one another. A battle between fervent youth and skilled experience. They both seem to be having a difficult time keeping up with each other's charges and blocks. Cato's bulging muscles rippling with every move, his face turned into an expression of extreme exertion. It's the first time Peeta's ever seen Cato sweat. He didn't know Cato was capable of something so human-like. Then again, he doesn't know much about the intimidating boy.
A strong clash between their swords wakes Peeta up from his thoughts. This brings him back to the task at hand. Is it even possible to impress him…? Peeta wonders. Why would someone so skilled want to acknowledge Peeta? Why would Cato want a simple baker to be in the careers? But then Peeta remembers last night, when the once collected boy seethed with anger at District 12 out-showing him. Cato does acknowledge Peeta, probably not for a good reason, but it's acknowledgement nonetheless.
And maybe if Peeta can show the boy what he's capable of, he'll get into the careers. Maybe if the baker can "strut his stuff", then that'll be good enough to be accepted. Just maybe.
With Mabel's coin giving off a warm glow of hopefulness inside his pocket, Peeta begins to talk to his so-called "lover".
"Katniss, I'm gonna train somewhere else, okay?" He says to the fixated girl, getting up. She looks up at him, slightly surprised.
"Oh, okay." She says to him uncertainly, but refocuses on the colorful, yet deadly, flower she and Rue were looking at. Peeta knows he's probably hindering the lovers dynamic Haymitch conceived for them, but he needs to go along with the other half of Haymitch's plan as well. He leaves her to her flora; she's obviously more interested in training with Rue than she is with him.
Peeta stands up, surveying which area to show whatever skill he has, if any. He notices Glimmer with a bow and arrow trying to shoot straight. It shouldn't be called archery what she is doing, more like a miserable failure at hand-eye coordination. She can barely hold the equipment correctly, let alone hit a target from point-blank range. And whenever by some sheer chance of luck her arrow actually meets the target, she jumps in joy, clapping her hands, as if she's won a medal for her accomplishments, her auburn, wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders. She tells of her momentous achievement to Marvel. He compliments her and looks for a bow of his own. There are no bows near his station so he snatches one from another tribute's hand, giving the boy a threatening glare, making the smaller tribute scamper away in fear.
Peeta realizes what a bully Marvel really is as he walks toward the duo. The baker grabs a bow and arrow and gets into position to shoot, three yards away from the District 1 tributes. Glimmer and Marvel take notice of him, shifting their eyes to him every other second, sizing him up, looking him over. At least they know I exist, Peeta thinks. He has the opportunity to get on their good side in his hands. If he can get a clear shot, that should be enough to better Glimmer's incompetency. That'll impress them for sure.
Peeta focuses his mind, pulling the arrow back as he's seen Katniss do quite a few times back in District 12. He's seen her at the border of their district sometimes catching stray animals. He tries to remember exactly how she looked and aimed, then he lets go of the arrow, and it shoots farther than any of Glimmers'.
It hits. It hits the white rim, but it hits nonetheless. Glimmer hasn't hit the target until her hundredth time. It wasn't bad for Peeta's first try. Now, the two acknowledge Peeta clearly, obviously interested, their bodies slightly shifted to get a better view of him, their calculating eyes boring into him, making him nervous. But it also gives Peeta a tang of confidence. Why would they be looking if they weren't interested? Glimmer eyes him, startled at how much more capable he is than her. Marvel the same, although his eyes are less confused than hers. He's obviously smarter than her, but then why does he continue to act as if she's more significant than him?
Either way, Peeta, holding himself more confidently, picks another arrow from beside him, and resumes the hunter's position. He painstakingly tries to mimic how Katniss does it, perfect, always managing to hit squirrels right in the eye. And with a clearer mind, he lets his hand loose.
Red. The arrow he shoots—the second arrow he ever shoots in his life—hits the red center. It's not exactly a bull's-eye, but it's enough to make Glimmer's pretty little jaw drop in astonishment. Marvel's eyes widen in clear respect.
Even though Peeta has just outshone her, and he expected her to be infuriated and jealous, she actually starts to smirk at him, pleased. So does Marvel. They seem impressed.
Yes! Peeta elatedly thinks when he puts down his bow. Of course, it wasn't like Peeta has become a master at archery in two shots, but it's clear that the careers are bereft of a person like Peeta. Someone better-rounded. Unlike Glimmer, who—despite her chest—is as flat as a table when it comes to skills. And Marvel, although being her one-man retinue, he isn't going to argue with that logic. He got their attention, now how will he take advantage of it?
Filled with joy that some of the careers actually respect him in a way, he "struts" off back to Katniss, who is now at the camouflage station. Two down, two more to go, the boy happily thinks as he stands beside his district counterpart, the little girl, Rue, still accompanying her.
"Hey, Katniss." He says as he examines her painted arm, smiling. It's supposed to resemble a tree, but looks more like a swamp of green mush.
"Oh, hey, Peeta," she says, looking at him warmly then refocusing herself to her work. Rue camouflages her arm as well beside Katniss, a little bit more open than she was this morning. Katniss seems to get along better with this girl than she does with her own mentor.
"Let me try." Peeta says as he begins to paint his arm next to her.
After a few minutes or so, his arm is a masterpiece, a perfect blend of rugged textures and mossy colors, the right amount of this shade of green and another hue of brown. It's as if Peeta was becoming a tree.
"Wow." Katniss says, amazed. Her eyes widen when they see Peeta's work. "That looks…really good." She says, looking at her arm and then his, comparing the two.
"Really?" Peeta says, flattered. He places it on one of the trees grown there for reference. Soon enough, his arm was lost in the tree's bark, completely gone from the view of the naked eye. "Yeah, you're right." He says, acknowledging his skillful camouflaging. They wash their forearms and begin to work on a sandy landscape.
Losing his concentration once again, Peeta zones out and contemplates upon what his actions in the archery station will reap. Did Marvel and Glimmer really seem that impressed? He muses, a smile forming on his lips. But his happiness soon dies down when realization kicks in.
There still remain Cato and Clove, and they are not as lenient as Marvel and Glimmer. They won't be swayed by a few arrows. No, Peeta has to make it clear to them what he is capable of. But what can he do to impress them? Other than throwing a few weights around and getting a high score in the private sessions with the Gamemakers, there really is no chance of the tributes from District 2 ever lifting an eye to barely even glance at him, let alone allow him entry into the career circle. No other way but to at least get a ten. Marvel and Glimmer were the easy ones.
But before Peeta could even stand up to get to the weight-lifting area, a shrill bell sounds loudly through the air. It apparently signifies lunch time, because all the tributes file out of the gymnasium, their mentors walking back to their respective floors with them.
Katniss and Peeta follow the crowd, meeting up with a grinning Effie and a smirking Haymitch.
At the large penthouse suite, the gang sits at the familiar dining table and begins a luscious lunch, the bright afternoon sun showering them with golden rays through the windows.
"So, how did it go?" Haymitch asks Katniss and Peeta, eating a mouthful of roast beef. "Your training."
"Good," Peeta answers when Katniss doesn't oblige. What else is he supposed to say? It went horribly. I'm going to die. Thanks for the concern, Peeta sarcastically thinks.
"Oh, that's wonderful," Effie chimes in from her corner of the table. "So the schedule is that after lunch, all tributes will meet with the Gamemakers in the training room individually, starting from District 1 to District 12." She says, grinning. That's right, Peeta remembers. He's going to have to 'strut his stuff'.
"Yes, it's time to show the Gamemakers what your skills are." Haymitch contributes to the conversation. "Sweetheart, I know your qualities are with bows and arrows." He says gruffly to Katniss, who doesn't seem to care, concentrated on her food. "But Peter here," he says, looking at Peeta. "What are your skills," he asks the boy, as if he doesn't already know.
"Um…I can weight-lift," Peeta says uncertainly. What more does he want?
"Yes, that's true. But just that's not gonna get you a reliable score." He says, surprising Peeta. Then what else is there I'm good at? What will he show them other than weight-lifting? It's all he has under his sleeves. And even then, he hasn't even had time to touch the weights today—so much for being "better-rounded". If that's all he can "strut", then they're not going to give him anything more than an 8. And that wouldn't even impress Glimmer. What else is there for Peeta to get into the career circle? To be accepted by District 2's tributes?
"He can camouflage himself." Katniss participates, catching everyone off guard. "He looked just like that tree in the camouflage station." She says, complimenting him. Haymitch narrows his eyes in concentration, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"I like it. Not very orthodox, but the Gamemakers are always looking for something new," he says, a happy hand to his chin.
"But remember," Effie cuts herself in. "The private sessions are only ten minutes each. Pace yourselves accordingly." She says with a look that you get from a mother warning you to finish your vegetables.
A few hours after lunch and down the escalator, Effie and Haymitch leave the tributes at the floor of the training room. Before the doors of the gymnasium is a space strewn with many metal benches along the sides of the walls. This is where all the tributes will sit and wait for their name to be called to be judged in the training room. Obviously, district partners sit next to one another.
Peeta can feel his heart start to quicken its pace when he and Katniss sit on a bench with a good sight of other tributes. It doesn't take long for him to notice the mystery girl, her hair mimicking a red flag. She sits next to a scrawny, small boy, insignificant compared to her. She sits motionless, her electric eyes unmoving. Peeta quickly averts his gaze, not wanting her to look straight at him. Why is she so…weird? He asks himself. She's just another tribute, he concludes.
He looks around the waiting room at more tributes. Unsurprisingly, Districts 1 and 2 sit in benches close to each other. They all seem so collected.
Glimmer just smiles joyfully, like she has no better place to be, swaying her legs under the bench like a schoolgirl. Marvel, beside her, looks at the other tributes with a haughty air. He's a little more arrogant than Peeta surmised him to be. Clove does the same as him, though more reservedly.
Cato doesn't look anywhere but straight. Dead straight. He could be anywhere. It's as if nothing in the world can unnerve the intimidating boy. Peeta peers into those dark, coffee-like eyes of Cato's, trying to catch a glimpse of who the tribute from District 1 really is. He comes to a loss, their rich opacity making it impossible to discern anything from them. What's up with him? He's like a puzzle. Peeta has been analyzing every tribute, deducing anything and everything he can about them. yet nothing seems to come when he looks at Cato. He's like a rock.
Then, Cato shifts those dark orbs right to Peeta's eyes, his expression calm. Oh, crap, Peeta thinks. He's trapped again, unable to move his gaze away, like a deer in headlights. Why does Cato terrify Peeta so much? But after a few seconds of the arresting eye-contact, Cato's expression unexpectedly…lightens. His mouth doesn't curl to a smile, but his face loses its tense atmosphere. And, almost nonverbally, he seems as if he's chuckling, amused. This catches Peeta off guard. What? Why is he—?
Marvel, to the Gamemakers…A female voice projecting from the intercom interrupts Peeta's thoughts. Cato shifts his attention to said boy standing up confidently and swaggering to the doors of the training room. Peeta's grateful for the chance to look away from Cato's powerful gaze. Glimmer claps cheerfully for her district partner. "Yay! You can do it, Marvel!" She says like a cheerleader. Clove simply glares at Glimmer, annoyed. The girl doesn't seem to notice.
After ten minutes, Marvel comes walking out of the arena like a champ. Glimmer's eyes brighten at his arrival. "How'd you do?" She asks, a silly grin on her face.
"Great, of course." He replies, smirking like he won the Gamemakers' hearts. He sits back on his seat.
Glimmer, to the Gamemakers…the woman on the intercom speaks again.
"Yay! It's my turn!" Glimmer says vivaciously while clapping, glee overflowing from her so much it seems to drown the room. Clove just sits there disinterested, her eyes deliberately made to look uncaring. Cato sighs lightly, his eyebrows shifted slightly upwards in the 'that's-nice-I-don't-care' expression. Oblivious as ever, Glimmer joyfully canters over to the doors, swinging them open animatedly and then swiftly closing them and causing a bang to ring in the room.
Taking a risk, Peeta darts his eyes over Cato again. The tribute from District 2 looks straight ahead, bored. It's only been fifteen minutes, Peeta thinks, his palms have already begun to sweat, and Cato seems bored? But Peeta has a game plan: Camouflage and weight-lifting. But although the ingenious plot, he can't help but feel nervous. If he screws up and gets a stupid number like 8, then he's most likely done. The chances of him living without the alliances of the careers will shrink down to virtually nothing. And then he'll be left to starve to death somewhere in a pit.
What is he thinking? Peeta ponders over the question about Cato. Why did he laugh at me? Just last night he seemed ready to kill Peeta after the chariot show. Now he silently chuckles at the tribute from District 12. Is he laughing at Peeta? Is he amused by Peeta? Is he picturing Peeta's torturous death?
Bang! The door closing behind Glimmer as she enters the waiting room fills the silent area again. All eyes are upon her. "I'm back," she says, bubbling with fizzy happiness.
"What'd you get?" Marvel asks as she sits down beside him.
"Obviously an eleven." She says. Her arrogance saturates the air ungracefully, making everyone nauseous. Marvel simply nods his head in approval. Clove gives such a fabricated smile that even Glimmer should've noticed. Her dense head didn't allow it.
How did she get an eleven? She obviously didn't try a hand at archery, Peeta amusedly thinks, a smirk playing upon his lips. At this exact moment, Cato's lips curl upwards with a tiny chuckle as well, as if he was thinking the same thing as Peeta. And their gazes meet all over again, Cato's eyes penetrating Peeta's thoughts. Did he just read my mind?
Cato, to the Gamemakers…Cato breaks the strange eye-contact to walk up to the doors, his obvious muscles moving beneath his sun-kissed skin.
"Good luck!" Glimmer calls out before the doors shut, shutting her voice out as well. This puts a childish frown to her face. She slumps back in her seat, a little too back as she purposely pushes herself on Marvel, wordlessly asking for comfort.
Clove smirks at this, rolling her eyes. "Does it look like any boy wants a girlfriend right now?" She says to Glimmer, her eyebrows risen up. Glimmer looks at her with the eyes of a puppy, then sighs, sitting up. Her gloomy eyes wander the room, and then find Peeta's. She perks up instantly, a smile popping on her face.
"That's okay," she says to Clove, her eyes still locked with Peeta's. "I have my eyes on another." She winks at him, catching him off guard. Clove shifts her head to see what Glimmer is looking at. Peeta hurriedly averts his eyes, but his cheeks are enough of a clue to tell Clove. The District 2 tribute sighs, annoyed at Glimmer's persistence.
Cato comes back and closes the training room doors, calmly walking back to his seat. His eyes glance at Peeta for a second and then dart over to Clove. The two tributes from District 2 exchange a tacit conversation, wordless, but conveying everything. It's as if they've known each other long enough to speak telepathically.
Clove relaxes herself, signifying to Peeta that Cato's session went well. Despite the body language, Glimmer still probes the boy with questions.
"Sooo," She unnecessarily lengthens her word. "How'd it go?" She asks, leaning forward in her seat to get a good side-view of Cato.
"It went well." He says, not exactly itching to talk to the overly-happy girl.
What did Cato do? Peeta wonders. He could've done a handful of things, he's very skilled. Peeta has seen him train with the swords, maces, spears, and just about any other deadly weapon he could get his hands on earlier today. The boy is obviously adept at fighting. Peeta knows that careers basically attend an academy to train for the Games for their whole lives. They must've been in the training facilities ever since they were children. Although Peeta doesn't know what type of rare error occurred with Glimmer. Many things probably don't enter that hard head of hers.
Clove, to the Gamemakers… In response, Clove stands up and approaches the doors, grateful to get out of earshot from Glimmer. And for the whole period of Clove's absence, Glimmer has been giving Peeta looks. Looks that wish to say "you-totally-want-me" but only come out as "I'm-making-an-idiot-of-myself". Peeta doesn't know whether he should be flattered by them, or repulsed. Soon enough, Clove enters the waiting room confidently, a sense of accomplishment within her gait.
After a few minutes, the tributes realized they can leave after their sessions; and thus, all the careers left to go to their respective floors. Soon enough, Peeta lost count of how many district tributes passed through those doors until he hears a name being called and that same scrawny boy from District 5 stands up, the red-headed girl sitting impassively beside him. After ten minutes he comes out and sits silently beside her again, as if they don't even know the other exists. Peeta forces himself against his will not to look over in their direction, scared she might pierce him again with those golden eyes.
Iris, to the Gamemakers…The familiar voice sounds through the room, and the girl soundlessly walks across and enters the training gymnasium.
Iris…Peeta thinks. So that's her name. He wonders what she'll do to impress the Gamemakers. He wonders what she can do to impress the Gamemakers. Tie some knots…? He muses confusedly.
Pushing the topic aside, he starts to lose concentration again, and time begins to speed past him. Before he notices it, his name is being called.
Peeta, to the Gamemakers…
His heart immediately quickens in pace, his palms start to sweat all over again. Despite his fidgeting nerves, he gets up. Katniss looks up at him, she's the last one. Peeta feels sorry for her because of that. He walks somberly to the doors and opens them quietly.
"Good luck…" She softly says in his direction. He looks at the ground in front of him.
"…Thanks." He says, and then enters the gymnasium.
The room is the same as it was this morning, just dimmer and much more vacant without the tributes and trainers. The Gamemakers sit on the same stage they were on earlier. They're eating an illustrious dinner, rich and decadent. Only a few barely notice him over the loud talking and delicious food.
Nonetheless, Peeta walks to the most familiar station, the camouflage station. He begins to paint himself the color of the walls. It might seem easy, considering they're simple and gray. But there are a hundred textures of different sheets of metals and bolts that only Peeta's keen eye can see. He finishes coloring the whole front side of himself in only a few minutes. Record time. But when he leans on the wall closest to him, no one lifts an eye to see his accomplishment. Not because he's so well hidden, but because the Gamemakers are so engrossed in their own material world.
Irritated, Peeta paces over to the weight-lifting area, giving up on the camouflage idea. Machines and weights lay in front of Peeta, waiting to be used. He doesn't know where to start. He begins with a simple dumbbell. But this doesn't attract any attention from the Gamemakers. If anything, it loses it.
Slightly more agitated, Peeta cursorily picks up a giant metal ball the size of a dog. It has a handle melded to it for convenient usage. He lifts it with ease, although it probably weighing tons.
The amazing feat goes unnoticed by the Gamemakers. They just sit there gossiping and stuffing their mouths without a care in the world. Are you guys serious? Peeta quickly becomes irate. This is my only chance of survival and you don't even care. The fire within him grows. He lifts a second ball by his free hand, waving them both in dangerously fast sideways circles beside his body.
And yet no one notices. They continue to chat freely and eat like the gluttons they are. They just continue to ignore the boy as if it was all a show to them. As if he's a silly monkey doing an old, boring trick.
Peeta feels his right hand subconsciously lose its grip. Not because it couldn't hold the weight any longer. But just to get the attention Peeta so deserved. And gets it he does.
The weight goes flying into the air in an arch, losing its momentum close to the roof and falling with a thunderous crash on the floor two feet away from the stage, collapsing the tiles beneath it. The whole stage goes into a hush, shocked. Seneca Crane's eyes double in size. Peeta doesn't know whether it's good that he got everyone to look at him or terribly bad that the Gamemakers most likely hate him now. The whole room stays quite for seconds, then Peeta begins to walk back to the wall he hid himself at, blending once again with its anterior. Some of the Gamemakers lose sight of him, some hurriedly start jotting down notes. And with this, Peeta storms out of the room, not caring whether they'll give him a ten or a negative infinity.
He doesn't even wish a nervous Katniss good luck when he passes her, still half disguised as a wall, and up the elevator to the twelfth floor. He makes it to his room before Haymitch and Effie could stop him, slamming the door shut.
What did I do? Peeta thinks, washing himself in the shower. He's better accustomed to it now. I just lost my chance. I just made it impossible to get anything more than a five. I might as well just admit it. He blatantly disrespected the Gamemakers, almost killing one of them. They just were so inconsiderate, eating and talking when I had my life on the line. It doesn't matter either way. I wasn't gonna get a high score anyways. Throwing metal balls and acting like a wall aren't exactly skills that are gonna keep me alive in the arena…The boy can't tell how long it's been, but he heard some noises outside and guesses Katniss has arrived a few minutes ago. I'd be lucky if I survive the first day…
His ire doused, Peeta solemnly walks into the dining room with a new change of clothes. Effie and Haymitch greet him with warm smiles sitting at the dining table. Katniss just continues to drink her soup.
"How'd it go, Peeta?" Effie asks as gently as she can. Of course, she didn't start eating without Peeta at the table.
Peeta sits down, and is a loss at words. Horribly? Terribly? The worst imaginable? He can't choose among the three.
"It didn't go good, did it?" Katniss asks, somehow she knew, probably because she saw him stomp out of the room so furiously.
"Not really." Peeta says, picking at his plate, trying to give off vibes of 'I don't want to talk about it'.
"It couldn't have gone as bad as Katniss's, boy." Haymitch catches on, changing the subject.
"Why?" Peeta asks. "What'd she do?" Katniss sighs at Haymitch's narration.
"She shot an arrow. At the Gamemakers." He says, chuckling.
"At their pig." Effie corrects. Peeta is surprised, trying hard to hide his laughter. Well, I can understand, actually. They probably lost all interest after me, he concludes. Katniss just rolls her eyes and continues slurping her broth.
After dinner, the group sits at the couch in front of the television and switch to the channel that the Capitol announces the tributes' scores on. Peeta and Katniss sit, fixated, dying to know what each got for their rude behaviors. First, Marvel's face pops up with his winning smile. He got a nine. Not bad, Peeta wonders what he showed them. What are Marvel's strengths? Did he show them his skills with weapons? Or survival skills? No, careers don't know much about survival.
Before Peeta could deduce anything, Glimmer's cheerful face is on the screen, her idiotic radiance almost blinding. She got a seven. A seven. Seven? Really? Despite being one of the careers, the girl got a mediocre seven. But now that Peeta thinks about it, it's not very shocking. She probably did shoot a few arrows. Cato might be laughing his ass off right now.
Soon enough, Cato's face becomes broadcasted, along with the double-digit number of eleven. This makes Katniss's eyes widen in awe. But Peeta isn't very surprised—impressed, yes—but not surprised. He must've done some sword show. Or maybe mutilated a mannequin with an axe, he probably wouldn't have settled for anything less than that anyways.
Then Clove's stolid face shows up, sober as ever. The number ten is beside her picture. Not unexpected either. She probably threw a thousand knives at once or something. Hopefully not at the Gamemakers.
The other tributes didn't seem very important to Peeta as their profiles showed across the screen. Iris got a seven just like Glimmer. She must've tied one hell of a knot. But what's surprising is that little girl, Rue, also got a seven. For a small figure like that, she must've done something quite big to get that number.
And before Peeta could even brace himself for it, his face is showing on the television. Oh, no, he thinks. At least I'll get an eight… But he thinks too soon, and then the number ten appears beside his picture. A ten. Ten. No matter how long Peeta stares at it, it's still trying to sink in, even though Haymitch and Effie are patting him on the back for it, congratulating him. Even Katniss is smiling at Peeta proudly.
"Peeta! That's amazing!" Effie cheers, her lips in a huge grin, teeth shining vividly.
"They loved your show, Peeta!" Haymitch slaps a congratulatory hand on Peeta's back, waking him up.
"A ten?" Peeta can't bring himself to believe it.
"A ten, boy!" Haymitch says loudly. "Do I need to spell it out for you?" Haymitch almost does, but finally, an exalted grin appears on Peeta's face.
"I got a ten!" He shouts, elated. He's so thrilled it radiates through his face. Never has he been so happy in the past few weeks.
"Oh!" Effie says suddenly. "Hush, now. Katniss is up!" She says excitedly, mesmerized by the TV again. Katniss's impassive profile is shown on the screen. Everyone waits in anticipation for the score of the girl that sent an arrow flying right at the Gamemakers' food itself. Nothing can go in between them and their gluttony without consequence. But Peeta has thought too soon once again, and an eleven is shown beside her face.
"Oh, Katniss! That's wonderful!" Effie hugs Katniss, almost to the girl's chagrin, but then she hugs back. Now Haymitch is patting her on the back. She almost seems stunned, shocked at what she got, but then her face floods with happiness, the only happiness Peeta has ever seen show on her face.
"They must've loved your show even better," Haymitch guffaws, the thought of disrespecting the Gamemakers hilarious. Peeta couldn't help but chuckle as well at the notion. They just love rebels, don't they? He thinks, a hand trying to cover his splendid smile, his eyes shining brighter than any star out in the night sky.
In his room, lying in his bed, Peeta replays all that his conscious mind couldn't process today. I showed the careers I'm not just another lame tribute. The thought makes Peeta smirk smugly. So many different emotions have filled him in such a short amount of time. Shock, defeat, dread, purpose, triumph, furiousness, exaltation, and everything in between. All of them in a few days' time. I've got a chance. I've got a chance to win this. The prospect of victory in the tournament paces closer and closer to Peeta with every turn.
He turns around on his side in his bed, Mabel's coin on his bedside catching his sight, glinting dimly in the moonlight. And then his azure eyes shut peacefully.