I'm left alone in the room again. But the next person who comes in the room is the first and last person
I want to see.
Airmet.
When she comes in the room, the Peacekeeper slams the door behind her. We just stare at each other for a moment. I can tell be the red puffiness in her eyes that she's been crying recently. We just stand there.
Suddenly, she lunges forward and hugs me tightly. I hug her back instantly. I can hear and feel her crying in to my shoulder again. I want to cry too, but I won't let myself.
She just keeps hugging me. I finally hear her speak in to my shoulder. It's barely audible, but I understand it. "You lied to me."
I pull back immediately. She looks at me and wipes her eyes. I'm ready to answer her. "I didn't lie to you," I say firmly.
"Yes, you did," she retorts. "You didn't tell me who you were. You lied." She sounds almost hurt, but angry too.
"No, I didn't!" I say. "I didn't tell you who I was, but that doesn't mean I lied." It's true. I never lied to her. I never told her I was someone else or denied who I really was. I just didn't tell her.
"It doesn't matter," she says. "You weren't honest with me." She walks over to the small bench and sits down. She looks up at me. "Why?"
I'm not ready to answer that question. "I wasn't dishonest with you, alright?" I go and sit down next to her. I don't look at her, I just look straight ahead. I know if I look at her, it'll make me want to cry even more. Instead, I just brush a stray blonde hair away from my face.
"It seems like Keeth knew," she interjects suddenly.
I can't believe she played that card, here and now. She never really liked Keeth; she never understood why I hung around with him. But I know she's not blind enough to oversee the fact that Keeth did know who I was while she didn't.
"That doesn't matter," I tell her. I sigh.
"You told him but not me," she says. She's still sounding hurt.
I need to change the topic away from Keeth. "You weren't any more honest with me than I was with you," I retort to her.
She looks down at the ground and her face flushes. "That's different…" she says in a small voice.
"How?" I ask. "It's no different from what I did!"
She stays quiet. I sigh. "Look, Air…" I start, trying to calm my voice a little. "I don't want to spend the last moments I see you fighting…"
She cuts me off. "This won't be the last time I see you," she says sharply. "You're going to win. You're going to come home. I promise." She pauses for a moment and her voice gets a little quieter. "Besides, these wouldn't be the last moments anyway. I'm coming on the train to the Capitol and then I'm coming home."
It sends relief through me knowing this won't be the last time I see her. Despite that sweet moment I get, I have to address another thing first. Bringing reality to Airmet. "Air… I can't win. I can't. Winning requires killing. Something I can't do. I could never kill a person. Especially Keeth…" I mumble the last part.
Apparently she knows me well too. "Keeth?" she asks accusingly. "This is still about Keeth?"
"That's not the point, Airmet," I say firmly. "I can't kill a person, especially not my best friend…"
"Then you should have let me volunteer for you," she says. "I could kill. I could if I needed too."
"I couldn't let you kill Keeth, I wouldn't," I say. "And even more, I'm not going to let you throw yourself in to that Arena in my place and get yourself killed. No, Airmet."
"Are you implying that I'd automatically lose?" she says. She crosses her arms.
"No!" I quickly try to mend. "No, Airmet, but it's no guarantee that you'd win, either. I'm just looking out for you."
"And I'm looking out for you," she replies. "I can't let you walk in that Arena and get killed if I can help it."
"You can't help it," I say quietly. Airmet doesn't know why I was chosen. She doesn't know that this wasn't an accident. But I can't tell her that, not here and not now. I don't explain my reasoning. I turn to her and look her in the eye. "I've made up my mind already. I'm going in the Arena. I'm competing in The Hunger Games."
She turns away from me as if holding back tears. We're silent for a minute. Finally, she breaks the silence. "What is it with you and Keeth?" she asks. "Why do you care so much about him?"
I sigh. "I don't know," I answer. "I care about him and he… he cares about me." The last part comes out shaky as I remember or time in the woods yesterday, how he cares about me and it's the reason I trust him. "We get each other."
Airmet doesn't take it like I do. "It sounds like you guys are in love," she says.
I roll my eyes. "It's not like that," I say. It's hard to think of Keeth as anything more than my best friend, though I couldn't imagine life without him. I couldn't live without him. I just couldn't do it. But for some reason, Air sees us like that and I don't know why.
"If you say so…" she says. I nudge her arm. She smiles and so do I. It might be the first time today.
Suddenly, the door opens. A Peacekeeper comes in. "Time to go," he says, his voice monotone and flat.
Airmet and I stand up and we follow him out of the room to the train.
…
When we get out of the Justice Building, I take one last good look around the District. It's probably the last time I'll ever see it. I savor it for all it's worth.
Keeth comes out of the Justice Building behind me and then walks up beside me. Airmet gets lost in the rest of the crowd as Peacekeepers begin to surround me and my fellow tribute.
Tribute. I don't think I'll ever like that label on me.
People around us are shouting and screaming as we walk towards the huge train. Our compartment's doors are open for us to go in.
We finally reach the train. As we step inside, I turn back to look. But everything seems to have gone blurry…
…
When we get in the train, Keeth and I are led to a room where we sit down. We're all alone and we sit in silence. We sit in these two comfy chairs with a crystal coffee table in front of us.
The room is beautifully decorated. There are red velvet drapes over the windows and a plush carpet over the floor to match. The crystal table in front of us matches the incredible crystal chandelier over and expensive looking mahogany table, which is teeming with lavish food on every square inch of it accompanied by drinks in crystal glasses and shiny silver flatware. The place is gorgeous.
"Wow…" Keeth breathes. He sits forward in his chair. "Nice place, huh?"
I sneer. "I'd say," I reply. Silence falls between us again. I sigh. I realize there are a lot of things that need to be said between Keeth and I but neither of us wants to say any of it out loud.
Finally, the ridgedness in the air broke when everyone came in the room. The group consisted of our mentors, Haymitch and my parents and our escort, Effie. When my mother comes in the room, she comes right over to me. I immediately stand up and hug her.
I hear her mumble as she hugs me. "Gosh, my little girl… my little girl…" she says.
I retreat back. "It's ok, Mom," I say. "I'm ok."
She shakes her head. She has a sad look on her face. "This is my fault. Gosh, this is all my fault…"
"Stop it," I say to her. "It isn't your fault. You didn't pull my name out of the reaping."
"Yes, I know, I did!" says a hysterical Effie. She dabs her damp eyes with a lacy cloth.
Haymitch turns to her. "Lighten up, Sweetheart, the kid isn't mad at anyone. Just let it go…" By the way he slurs his words and drops down in to a chair a few feet away, I can tell he's easily drunk.
My mother hugs me again. "I might as well have pulled your name out… I'm so sorry…" she whispers.
When my mother lets me go, my father comes over and puts his arm around her. "Katniss, it's not your fault…"
"Yes, it is, Peeta!" she retorts back. That's definitely what I got from her; my stubbornness.
My father rolls his eyes and gives the slightest of a smile. I can tell that no matter what my mother is doing, he delights in any and all of it, no matter the time or the circumstance. He just loves her that much. I hope I can find someone who loves me like that one day too.
My father walks over to Keeth. Keeth stands up and they shake hands. "I'm so sorry about this, Keeth," my father tells him.
Keeth shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively. "Don't be, sir. Nothing you guys could control."
My father gives a stiff nod of his head. "Right," he says. "Well, shall we eat?" he asks the group collectively.
Everyone murmurs some form of 'yes'. Haymitch grunts as he gets up. "Good," he says. "I'm s-starving." He chokes on his words as he stumbles to the table.
As we sit down, Airmet joins us and comes over to the table. She looks at her father. She then looks to me but points at him. "Drunk?" she asks. I nod. "Figures," she says. I laugh a little.
When we all sit down, Keeth and I sit on one side of the long part of the table. On the other side sits my mother and father as well as Airmet across from me. One of the ends of the table is Effie and Haymitch on the other, closer to me.
We sit in silence at first, just eating the delicious food. I'm not sure the silence is because of the tension in the air or the fact that we're all stuffing our faces with the food. It's probably a little of both.
Finally, when I start to not feel as hungry anymore, a little from fullness and just the fact of not being hungry, I turn to Haymitch. "So where do we begin?" I ask him. I specifically speak to him because I know it's something I don't want to hear from my parents. I don't want them to tell me how to kill, how to win the Games. I can't kill anyway.
"We'll get there… at some point…" he says. He goes on eating like the drunk he is.
"We should probably start soon," I press. "There's a lot to know."
"Colemet…" Keeth warns quietly. I ignore him.
"So?" I ask impatiently.
Haymitch groans. "Geez, Sweetheart, just give me a minute…" he says warily. He starts to reach across the table. "Will someone please pass the liquor…?" he says.
"I think you've had enough to drink for now," I tell him with attitude.
He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, just one more drink…" When he keeps reaching for the alcohol, I take my butter knife and stab it in to the table right in front of his hand.
Everyone's faces are shocked with my hand still on the handle. Effie gasps. "That is MAHOGANY!"
A smile crosses my face as I remove my hand from the handle of the knife. Haymitch reaches out and dislodges it from the table. "Well," he says. "Chip off the old block to say the least. How 'bout it, Katniss?"
I look to my mother, whose face is red. Soon, the look of embarrassment fades and turns in to a mischievous smile. She takes her own butter knife and stabs the table right next to where mine was. Everyone seems to laugh, even me. All except Effie, who now seems to be hyperventilating at the fact that we've now put two holes in the overly expensive table. Her look of shock and disgust amuses me even more.
"Manners!" she says. We keep laughing. She stands up and takes the napkin that was on her lap and throws it on to the table in disgust. "That's quite enough," she says. "I think we've all had enough. We should go to our other activities, shall we?" She sounds past aggravated with our behavior. She walks over to a door leading to another compartment.
We all finish up the last of our food and one by one follow Effie in to the other compartment. This one is full of comfy chairs, elegant pillows, and a huge couch all atop a plush carpet. In front of the couch is a wide screen TV.
I know what this is. We're going to watch the Reapings from the other districts.
I sink down on to the huge plush couch and brace myself. Keeth comes and sits next to me. When he sits, he puts his arm around me and reassurance. I see Airmet shoot us a look out of the corner of my eye, but I specifically don't make eye contact with her. I keep my eyes glued to the screen even though nothing is on it yet.
My parents sit in a love seat on one side of the room. My father has my arm around my mother. Haymitch, Effie, and Airmet all sit in other chairs that are piled high with pillows. Realizing it now, I'm starting to really miss Cintia. I try to keep him out of my head as Effie turns on the tape.
We watch the Reapings in ascending order, starting from District 1. In each of the Reapings, we see the usually small number of eligible tributes, all the sons and daughters of Victors.
From District 1, there are quite a few teenagers who are eligible. Since District 1 has Career tributes, more of their tributes have won in the past years. When their escort, a Capitol woman with tanned skin, long blue hair and wild green eye shadow reads off the two names, the two selected tributes come up.
It works that way with every selected pair. Only a few truly stick out to me.
The boy from 2 is the first to really stand out. He's has a huge build. He has short blonde hair and a face that is beyond recognizable in my mind, but I know I can't place him. When he gets called, he walks stiffly up to the stage with a grim expression on his face.
The two tributes from 3 stand out as well. The girl is called first. When she's called, she goes up to the stage looking beyond sullen. She has long blonde hair like me, but hers is a lot paler. Her face is narrow but also beautiful. She looks a little older than me. Probably 16 or something.
The boy from 3 stands out. When he gets called and moves from the crowd, I see him. He stands out among the others, his dark brown hair in almost the same style as Keeth's; he's tall, too. He looks probably around 15 or 16 in age. He has a face and demeanor that just pull you in as he walks closer to the stage. I glance around at the others to see if I'm the only one who thinks this, and it seems I am. I try to ignore it.
The male tribute from 4 also has a recognizable face, but I can't place him either. He has soft brown hair with natural bronze highlights and sea foam green eyes. When I look around at everyone else, I see my mother tearing up and my father with a look that shows something beyond recognition. I still can't place him.
The girl from 5 seems super shy as she walks up. She looks really sad, but I don't blame her. She's short, probably only 12 years old. She has red hair and a freckle covered face. She basically sulks to the stage.
The two tributes from eight are obviously siblings. They both have the same jet black hair and pale faces. Their thin mouths both form straight lines. When they get up on the stage, they hug each other.
The two tributes from 11 stick out to me, too. They're both obviously siblings, too, maybe even twins. They both have the same dark brown hair, their skin tan from working in the agricultural fields of District 11.
The girl really sticks out. The tribute that will be competing actually wasn't even reaped. A little girl, probably around the age of 12 for obvious reasons is. The little girl has dark brown hair and a slight face like the actual female tribute, but hers is shorter. It's obvious that they're siblings too. When the girl is reaped, It takes her sister less than a minute to volunteer for her. She's bold. The girl seems nearly emotionless when she walks to the stage, but I've seen that act before. Her brother does the same. They both look around my age, probably 14. With how the girl volunteered for her sister and now her brother alongside her, it seems the odds aren't in her family's favor at all.
Then we begin to watch our Reaping. It's hard for me to see, the set up of me getting reaped, Airmet being dragged away after trying to volunteer, and the Keeth being reaped, an indirect symbol of me dragging down the ones I love with me. Only do I realize I'm crying when Keeth's hand comes up to my face and his thumb lightly brushes the tears off my skin.
All of the reaped tributes have fear on their face alike.
I can't watch this. I don't want to watch it. I can't bear it all.
I shoot up from my chair. I look around and see the faces of these people who care about me, who love me, who want to help me. But then I say something defying it all.
"I want to be alone."
…
I get up and leave the room hastily. I go to another compartment of the train, the one that includes out bedrooms. I walk until I find the one with my name labeled on it.
I open the door and go in. In the center of the room is a huge bed with a fluffy white comforter, overflowing with pillows of almost every single color blue and green you can imagine. The walls are painted like the color of the sky lined with beautiful paintings of flowers, trees, and swirling colors. There's also a nice wooden dresser, an end table with a small lamp, and a small crystal chandelier above it all casting a beautiful light over the room. There's a window above the head board of the bed that has a soft green curtain that can close on it.
My eyes keep tearing up. I go over and sit among the never ending pillows on my bed. I grab one and shove my face in to it tightly and just scream. I know no one can hear it through the insane plush pillow, so I scream louder.
When I lift my face from the pillow, I see tear stains on it. I take a deep breath. Instead of staying calm, I take the pillow with my tears and hurl it at the wall across the room.
It feels good to release the anger. I look around me. There are probably thirty more pillows around me. I pick up another one and throw it. And another. And another.
I've thrown about ten more when I hear a light knock on my door. I stop throwing the pillows but I don't answer the person who knocked.
They don't wait for the answer anyway. The door inches open a little and Keeth slips in the room. He doesn't come all the way in; he just stands in the doorway. We stare at each other for a minute. Finally, he raises his eyebrows at me in question. "Do you really want to be alone?" he asks.
That's when I realize it; I don't. I need someone, but when I was out there, I didn't really want any of them there with me. I thought I wanted to be alone, but maybe I don't. Instead of saying anything, I just shake my head.
Keeth opens the door more and comes all the way in. He shuts it behind him. He walks over and sits on the foot of my bed. For a while he doesn't say anything. He doesn't even face me; he just stares at one spot on the floor. I pick up another pillow and hug it tight to me. I rest my chin on top of it. Now that I got over throwing the pillows, I feel a little better.
Finally, Keeth turns to me and speaks. "You ok?"
I nod. And as I do, I realize it's the truth. I am ok. Whatever was pent up inside me was released from something as silly as throwing pillows. I feel a lot better. I can focus. I'm aware. I'm alert. "Yeah," I say. "Are you?"
He shrugs. "As good as I can get," he tells me. He sighs.
I slightly move over and push some pillows aside from the spot next to me. I pat it, motioning for him to sit next to me like he does to me. When he sees this, he smiles and crawls over to sit next to me.
When he's settled, I feel good doing the familiar. I curl up beside him and lean over to put my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. We both lean back together against the endless sea of pillows behind us.
We stay silent for a little while, but it's Keeth who breaks the silence again. "How long are we going to spend avoiding the inevitable, Colemet?"
I sigh and shake my head against his shoulder. "I don't know," I say gently. "It can't be long."
"I know," he replies. There's a pause. "We're allies in the Arena, right?" he asks.
"Of course," I say immediately. We're silent again. The silence is a constant and repetitive it seems. I break it this time. "Keeth, we have to face it," I tell him. "One of us isn't making it back alive."
She nods solemnly. "I know," he says. "But I don't want to think about that."
"We have to eventually," I say. "We can't get around it."Silence. He breaks it again. "…what if we both win?" he proposes.
"Won't happen," I answer. "It can't."
"Why not? That's what happened with your parents. Why not again?" he presses on.
"Because that's not the Capitol's game," I answer. "They're never going to let both of us win. There's one victor. Only one. They put me here to be killed and they put you here to break me." I pause. "And I'm really sorry."
"Don't be," he says. He closes that matter but keeps the other going. "What if it comes down to me and you and we won't kill each other? What if we pull out nightlock like your parents did? What then?"
"They'd let us both die," I answer. "Besides, they'll probably kill me before they let that happen."
He's silent. He's thinking.
He comes back with one sentence that gives me hope.
"We'll figure it out."