Chapter 7
The next day passes in a blur. The response to the opening ceremonies was better than I thought. When I turn on the TV that night I see that everyone is talking about how wonderful we looked. Not only that but they were anxious to see our interviews with Caesar Flickerman in a few days and our training scores.
"That's good." Drake said as we ate later that night. "We'll definitely get sponsors." Our stylists and Prep team weren't dining with us that night. They had to prepare our other costumes. I was glad because I could have time to talk to Drake alone.
"Drake. . ." I start. He looks up from his dinner. "When you said yesterday that Coin. . ."
"Yes, she does." He said. I look up startled. "What better representative than the heartbroken siblings of the Star-Crossed Lovers." His eyes show his sadness.
"I refuse." I whisper. Drake looks confused. "I am not going to do anything for that hag. She's no better than Snow."
"What are you talking about?" he asks. "Of course she's better than Snow. Prim what's wrong?" I don't know why but a tear runs down my cheek.
"Nothing." I said. I rub my eyes to clear them of tears. "Just forget it." I walk to my room silently. I open the door to see Buttercup sitting there on the bed. He was waiting for me to comeback. As soon as he sees me he jumps of the bed and runs toward me. He can always tell when I'm upset. As soon as he's in my arms I start crying. I don't even know why I'm crying! I'm not upset at being reaped. At least, I don't think I am. So why am I crying? It's so frustrating! I want to scream at myself to stop. But I can't have the others know that I'm crying so I just scream into my pillow as loud as I can.
I refuse to go to training preferring to sit in my room, cry, and hug Buttercup. Sometime during the night I begin to blame the rebellion for my crying.
I only ever leave during supper when Drake practically drags me out of the bedroom and shoves food down my throat.
"Prim." Drake sighs as I play with the cake on my plate.
"I'm not hungry." I said.
"You barely at your soup and now you don't want cake?" He said. "It's your favorite too, vanilla with strawberries in the middle."
"I hate strawberries." I mutter as I push the plate away. Drake scowls.
"It would be wise to gain a few pounds, miss." A tall, burly man with dark hair walks into the room. I look at him up and down.
"It doesn't concern you." I mutter as I turn back to my plate.
"Who are you?" Drake asks. The tall man is clearly surprised. I suppose that he expected for someone, maybe Effie, to tell us who he was beforehand but I haven't seen Effie much.
"Your mentor." He said. At this I look up.
"You are not a victor." I said. I look back down at my plate. He's not a victor. He's probably one of those stupid capitol citizens who say they are 'experts' on the Hunger Games. I've meet a few in the past year. They're pathetic and cocky. They think that, if they should be placed in the arena, they would win without having to lift a finger. They think they know how to survive. I always laugh at them. They don't know anything. They don't know just how hard it is to survive. They have never been hungry.
"Neither are you but you're still here." He said. I look up again.
"Go away." I said. The man sighs as if he's dealing with some disobedient child. He pulls his sleeve up towards his elbow and extends his hand in my direction. I look at his wrist where there's a bracelet. It's made of gold and from it hangs a Mockingjay. I know that when you twist the Mockingjay's neck to the side the bracelet will light up to show the symbol of the rebellion. My mouth falls open in an 'o'. So does drakes. I look back up at the man; all of my anger suddenly evaporates.
"Like it? Mockingjay's are all the rage this year." He smiles and pulls his hand back. For some strange reason, I feel safer knowing that there are rebels taking part in the Hunger Games.
"It's very pretty." I said. Drake nods.
"So tell us, mentor, what should we do?" Drake asks. The man sits down and pours himself a cup of orange juice as we wait for his answer.
"Form an alliance." He smiles. Drake and I exchange worried glances.
"With?" I ask.
"Well, you have to choose people on your own but I suggest teaming up with Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason. They're the deadliest – not to mention the youngest – of the victors." He took a big gulp of the juice.
"But then we'll be targets." Drake said. I nod. The weaker Victors are going to want to take down the youngest and the strongest first that way it'll be easier to pick out the others. If we team up with Johanna and Finnick then we would be considered a threat. Johanna and Finnick can snap a neck in seconds and Drake is strong. I can shoot – not as well as Katniss could but I can hit a target. The past year Drake had practiced with a sword and if he showed that during the training today then the victors already know he's a threat. But then again the fact that we're not victors could lessen the threat. Who knows.
"Then find some weakling. Finnick Odair's old counterpart for example - or the people from three." He shrugs. "Others will think that you're not as big a threat with them. Oh – and I want you to appear weak."
"I think it's too late for me." Drake said. "I sort of practiced with the swords during practice."
"Yes but then you fell on your butt." The man said. "That sort of ruined the effect." Drake's face turns red.
"You tripped?" I giggle.
"No! I just decided to take a break in the middle of practice." He smiles. I roll my eyes.
"Prim you have to appear weak. Pretend you don't know anything – not even about plants." He said.
"Why do I have to appear weak?" I ask.
"So they'll save you for last. They'll think of you as nothing but the younger, innocent, crybaby sister of Katniss Everdeen who would burst into tears if someone stepped on an ant." I scowl. "What? You've been playing that image the whole year!"
"I'm going to my room." I say as I abruptly stand up causing the chair to fall back. I don't pick it up. The servants can do that. I walk toward my room holding back tears. Maybe I am a crybaby. It's all I seem to be doing lately. I'm about to open the door to my room and cry out for Buttercup when Drake appears behind me.
"Are you okay?" he asks. I shrug. "Are you going to training later?"
"No." I said. "I don't want to see anyone."
"But –"
"What better way to convince them that I'm a stupidly innocent, crybaby who can't so much as kill a bug than by staying in my room all day pretending to cry and scream and throw a stupid tantrum just like a stupid crybaby would!" my voice had risen into screaming somewhere in the middle of the sentence. Drake doesn't answer.
"Will you really be pretending? To cry I mean." He whispers. I scowl and shut the door in his face. The only word that manages to leave my mouth is "Buttercup!" before I burst into horrible sobs.
So. . .yeah. I haven't update in so long an i am so sorry for that. I'll post the next chapter before this month is over. I promise. Tell me what you think! :)
