Hey everyone! So sorry it's taken so long for me to get the time to do this! Junior year is more hectic than I had anticipated. Thank you for being patient! Let me know what you think! -CA
The last morning in the Capitol arrives as unceremoniously as the rest. I wake up with a sense of calm that's disturbing. As per usual, my room is silent, only the sound of my heart and my breathing. This is it, I think. But no nerves come which I wasn't expecting. The whole week I had been gaining a pressure in chest, but now the anxiety simply faded away like water washing away the flour from skin after a long day of working back home. Home, somewhere that I would never return to. Even if I did, it wouldn't be the same. Not really, anyway.
I push away my thoughts of home and they're rapidly replaced by those of Katniss. Suddenly, questions of what would happen if I returned flood into my head. It's a flurry of images of the past, and hopeful future. Bread. Lips. Braids. The curiosity nearly overwhelms me and I have to take a few deep breaths.
I get up out of the mess of sheets on my bed and stumble into the bathroom. I rinse of quickly, because I know the prep team will likely view my efforts insufficient. After drying off, I throw on whatever I can find, which happens to be an dull green and brown pants. Before I leave, I press my ear to the door to the hallway. I hear nothing and slowly poke my head out making sure no one is there, specifically Ayanna. I don't want to have to see her before I get into the arena. Not looking back, I dart into toward the elevator and slam the button. They doors open dramatically with a melodious bell going off. I hit the button for the basement. This is where our final preparations are before we board the train to travel to the arena, The games are in a different spot each year; to keep the interest of the viewers of course. Of course. All of this is for them.
The doors open once again and I walk into my prep room. Multiple pairs of oddly colored and manicured hands grab at me suddenly and I'm yanked into a chair and scrubbed down. The embarrassment I would have usually felt doesn't even have time to register before it's over. Just like that, their work is over and I check my watch, its only 9:30. There's still a half hour before the train leaves for our mysterious destination. Out of nowhere, that feeling of worry begins to crawl up my throat, and my breath starts quickening. Don't think about it, don't think about it. I walk as fast as I can to the train, to give myself something to do.
Once I get on board, I see the spread of the delicious Capitol food in the front cabin. I pick up everything I can get my hands on. Eggs, sausage, pastries, breads, and that drink I like so much, the hot chocolate. Balancing my plate and cup, I find a table in the back of the train away from the other tributes that have slowly trickled in. The train takes off and I begin eating slowly, savoring it as much as I can. This is the last meal I will be given before being thrown into the arena. As I finish up, I watch the blur of scenery rush past. Just flashes of green, red, yellow, and brown flying by. I can only imagine that they are trees, and flowers, and grass. The suns soaks into my skin and I try to control my breathing, but before I know it the windows slam shut, covered by a sheet of black. We're getting closer.
Half an hour later, the train begins to slow, but my heart speeds up. This is feeling I was waiting for. When the vehicle comes to a stop, we're all guided off the train into separate rooms. Based on the chill, I realize we're underground. The only place we have to go is up. I see a flash of brown curls. Ayanna. Next time I see her she could be dead. A shudder runs up my spine and the hair on my neck stands straight up.
Once in my room, an attendant leans in and says 15 minutes. I try to stay calm, but my hands are shaking. Portia, my stylist, comes in and has a mournful look on her face. She says nothing, just puts her hand on my back and rubs in small circles. Unlike anything else today, it soothes me. My breathing slows and I'm grateful for that. Soon enough, she has to hand me my clothes. It's a black jacket and pants, and the material looks reflective. Sun, I think. It's going to be hot. Portia helps me into the clothes and laces up my boots for me. I try them out walking around the small room. Then, a small chime goes off and her eyes dart toward me. She's crying. I wipe the tears off of her face and she opens a door toward the back of the room. In it lies a silver stand that will take me to what is likely my death.
A sweet, feminine voice blast over the intercom. 30 seconds, it says, and proceeds to count down. I step slowly onto the platform my heart pounding uncontrollably in my chest.
"You can do it, Peeta. For whoever she is," says Portia in a shaky voice. I smile, but then dart my head toward her. Confusion is written in my eyes. How could she know.
"I see it in your eyes," she whispers. Suddenly, a glass wall separates us and the plate is pushing me up. As I catch my last glance of Portia, I get my first breath of the arena air. The sun beats down on my face, and the countdown begins.
