PART TWO | THE GANES
CHAPTER TEN
For a moment, the whole world stops and silence ensues. Some of the screens placed around the auditorium show Katniss' face backstage. Her mouth is slightly hanging open, her face showing a mixture of surprise and protest. She presses her lips together tightly, whitening them out and then staring at the floor.
"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Caeser says. There's a real edge of pain to his voice. The crowd begin to murmur in agreement; a few are even crying out.
"It's not good," I agree.
"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," Caeser admits, and I feel some small rejoice inside. My plan is working well. "She didn't know?" he asks.
I shake my head, remembering that fact very well, the images of her face haunting me. "Not until now." I say. I look toward the screen again, and see Katniss flitting her eyes up. Her cheeks are almost as red as the fire in her dress.
"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caeser asks the audience, grinning. The crowd screams in agreement. "Sadly, rules and rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."
Roaring comes from the crowd, deafening me. When they settle down slightly, I manage to choke out a small 'thank you' before returning to my seat. The anthem plays, ending the interview show.
After the anthem ends, the tributes file back into the lobby and find their respective teams. Katniss avoids me entirely as we find out way back to the elevators and up to our floor. My stomach writhes in nerves, wishing that she could just say something to me. A million scenarios play out in my head. One she screams at me, one she cries, one she hates me, one she loves me. None of them seem real, but my mind won't stop going into overdrive until I finally reach the twelfth floor.
The very second I step out, Katniss pushes into my chest. I lose my balance and fall backwards into an urn, which shatters into tiny pieces. I land in the pile of shards, and blood begins to flow from my hands almost immediately. In none of the scenarios did I imagine that she would attack me. "What was that for?" I say, shocked.
"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she shouts.
The elevators open again, and the crew come piling out them. "What's going on?" Effie says, hysteria lining her voice. "Did you fall?"
"After she shoved me," I say, being helped by Effie and Cinna.
Haymitch turned to Katniss, angry. "Shoved him?"
"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she shouts again, not bothered by Haymitch's anger.
"It was my idea," I admit. I pull out of the shards from my hands, wincing as I do so. Pain lances through my skin, the blood flowing freely. "Haymitch just helped me with it."
"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" Katniss screams.
"You are a fool," Haymitch snarls, disgusted. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."
"He made me look weak!" she spits.
"He made you look desirable!" he retorts, shutting her up slightly. "And let's face it, you an use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District 12!"
"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.
Haymitch grabs her by the shoulders and pins her against the wall. I try to get over to them, to stop him from hurting her, but Effie stops me. "Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself is a small miracle." Haymitch snaps. Katniss is completely quiet in his grip. "Now I can say you're a heart-breaker. Oh, oh, oh how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?"
Katniss tries to wriggle away from his hands, and he lets go of her. She steps away, trying to clear her head. Cinna comes over to her side, and gives her a one-armed hug. "He's right, Katniss." he tells her.
"I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid." she says.
"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," Portia says. Everybody's support is making me feel so much better, making the whole situation feel so much better.
At the same time, though, I'm pissed off at her. She tried to attack me after I told the entire world I was in love with her... Does she not realise how much of me it took to do that? "She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say gruffly, tossing away more pieces of shards from my hand.
Katniss goes red again. "I don't have a boyfriend."
"Whatever," I say, thinking about Gale. I feel so incredibly stupid all of a sudden. She is already in love with someone else, how could I ever thought that telling her I loved her would be a good idea? It was so... so... stupid. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"
My own words break my heart. It hurts me so much to accept that she doesn't love me back. Katniss stays very quiet, and I wonder if I've gotten through to her. If any of us have. "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" she asks.
I furrow my brow, confused. What did that even matter?
"I did," Portia says. She looks to me, her face full of genuine honesty that confused me even more. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush." Everybody else chimed in, agreeing.
Haymitch tries to change the subject of our unrequited love. "You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block," he tells her.
Katniss turns to me. "I'm sorry I shoved you."
I can't bring myself to look at her. "Doesn't matter," I say, shrugging. "Although it's technically illegal."
"Are your hands OK?" she asks.
"They'll be alright," I say.
Silence follows before Haymitch speaks again. "Come on, let's eat," he says. I feel hungry, but the blood loss is getting to my head slightly. I try to get some stuff on my plate when we're all at the dinner table, but my hands are bleeding too heavily, so Portia leads me off to get some medical attention. They patch me up then let me get back to the food, which is slightly cold by the time I return. I shove a few platefuls down me, feeling guilty that I've made everybody else wait for me
After I've finished eating, we all adjourn to the sitting room and watch the replays of the interviews. We watch as Katniss twirls around in her dress, being doused in fire again. I can't help but notice how charming my whole demeanour is, and thank Effie for her help in that department. When the replays ends and the anthem fades out, the screen goes completely dark and a hush falls over the room. Right now is the first time I've realised that the Games start tomorrow morning. At dawn, we will be woken and taken to the arena for the Games to start at ten o'clock in the morning. The only people who will be coming on the journey to the arena with us are our stylists so that they can give us the outfits.
This is goodbye, really.
Effie takes both Katniss and I in her hands, her eyes tearing up. She wishes us well and thanks us for being the best tributes she's ever had. It's all very touching until she says, "I wouldn't be surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!" which ruins the sweet mood she previously set.
She kisses us each on the cheek and hurries out, much too emotional. Haymitch looks at us squarely, crossing his arms. "Any final words of advice?" I ask, half-joking.
"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water," he says. His actual advice shocks me a little. It's incredibly useful. "Got it?"
"And after that?" Katniss asks.
"Stay alive," Haymitch says. We both nod. I guess there's not much else to say, really. Staying alive is the main priority of the Games.
Katniss lingers off down the corridor to her room, but I stay to hang back to talk to Portia for a little minute. I tap her gently on the shoulder to catch her attention. "Can I talk to you for a second?" I ask her quietly. She nods and I pull her off to the side of the room. "Earlier, when Katniss asked if it looked like she could love me too, what did you mean when you said yes?"
Portia tilts her head, giving me a very Portia-like look. "Peeta," she purrs. "I don't lie. When Katniss asked that, I told her the truth."
"You told her that it seemed like she was in love with me," I say. "That wasn't the truth. You saw how she reacted. I had to get stitches!"
She laughs lightly. "Oh, Peeta," she says. "You're naïve in love; but that is okay - you are young. Katniss pushed you, yes, but her temper is made of fire and you doused the flames of her heart. When you told the world that you loved her, did you see her face?"
"Yes," I say in a small voice.
"Then there you go," she says. "I think you know what I'm talking about."
Portia walks away from me, but not before tapping my chin lightly. I don't know what she's talking about, but is there much point in trying to figure it out anyway? Tomorrow, we're going to be fighting for our lives in the Games and she'll be trying to kill me.
I walk to my room and settle into my bed. I close my eyes and the whole night replays over and over and over again in my head until I feel like I'm going to scream. I get so frustrated that I throw the covers off my body and want to punch something, but I restrain myself. Instead, I decide to go walk around the floor a little to try to calm down, to try to take my mind away from everything until I'm too tired to stay awake at all. Somehow, I find my way up to the roof. I stand right near the edge and breathe in the night air, watching as the stars pass above me. All of a sudden, a voice sounds behind me that makes me jump slightly. "You should be getting some sleep." it says.
Katniss.
I shake my head slightly. "I didn't want to miss the party." I say, motioning to the crowds in the streets below who're drinking, dancing, eating and celebrating in anticipation of the Games. "It's for us, after all."
Katniss stands beside me, leaning over the edge to get a good look at the people. "Are they in costumes?" she asks, squinting at the streets.
"Who could tell?" I answered. "With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep, either?" I ask.
"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says.
"Thinking about your family?"
"No," she admits in a small voice. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." She looks to my face then back down to my hands which're bandaged up. "I really am sorry about your hands."
"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I say, tiredly. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."
"That's no way to be thinking," she says.
"Why not? It's true. My best hope is not to disgrace myself and..." I say, trailing off, unsure if it's safe to safe the next few words.
"And what?" she questions.
I'm quiet for a second. I think back to how I took Katniss to the roof and how she opened up to me. I guess it's time for me to do the same in a proper, genuine way. "I don't know how to say it exactly. Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I say, but she shakes her head. I take a small breath. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not."
Katniss bites her lip. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" she asks.
"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to... to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," I say.
Katniss looks disgruntled. "But you're not," she says. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."
"OK, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I insist. "Don't you see?"
"A little. Only... no offence, but who cares, Peeta?" she says.
I feel indignant. "I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I ask angrily, locking my eyes onto her, demanding an answer. She takes a step back. I feel angry that she just doesn't care about it beyond herself. Can't she see the people down there, dancing and cheering at our incoming deaths?
"Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive." she says.
I smile at her, kind of mockingly. She's really pissed me off these past few days, and the worst thing is, I keep trying hard for her. To make things better. But she just doesn't listen to me, or seem to care. Heartbreak is killing me and changing me. "OK. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart."
She looks shocked at my attitude. Maybe she needs a little attitude back, sometimes, I think to myself. "Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District 12."
"Wouldn't surprise me if you," I say, thinking of my mother. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"
"Count on it," she says. It stabs me in the chest. She turns and leaves without another world, and I realise that this is the last conversation we're likely to have and I ruined it by having a go at her.
After a little while, I return to my room. Luckily, I've exhausted myself out and fall asleep with little worry this time. Portia wakes me at dawn, giving me some simple clothes to wear before leading me to the roof. The final outfit, the one I'll be wearing in the arena, will be done when we're actually there in a dressing room underneath the arena. I don't see Katniss before I get onto the hovercraft.
When I climb into it, a woman in a white coat stabs with a syringe. "This is your tracker, Peeta. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it," she says. It goes deep into my skin and beeps, emitting a tracking signal for the Gamemakers to keep track of all of the tributes. The woman leaves the hovercraft, and it takes off with Portia and I on board. We eat a hearty breakfast. I can't taste much due to my nerves, but I know that I need to eat lots because it could be a while before my next meal.
The windows black out when we get closer to the arena. When we land, Portia and I climb carefully out the hovercraft via a ladder and to the Launch Room, where I'll be dressed in my arena clothing and sent up toward the arena when the time comes. I struggle to keep my breakfast down as I clean in the shower, using my last lot of rose shower gel that I'll probably ever use. It's hard to savour the feeling of the warm water on my skin, the floral smell up my nose, when I'm so nervous.
Portia hasn't had any said in my outfit - it's just an arena standard outfit. She passes me the clothes: black leather boots, a simple pair of trousers, a light green shirt, a brown belt and a thin, hooded black jacket. "The material is suppose to reflect body heat, so it may be that the arena is slightly cold," Portia tells me. "Does it fit OK?"
"Yes, thank you," I say quietly, full of nerves.
"I guess now we wait for the call," she says. We sit and I pick at some more food and drink a little water, trying to hold it all down. I find myself biting on my lip after a while. My terror is slowly rising, bubbling to the surface. I have no idea what to expect.
A female voice suddenly calls, telling us both that it's time to prepare for launch. Portia grabs my shoulders. "Remember her, Peeta. Remember your promise, and spend every day surviving on that promise you made to keep her alive," she says. "It's what you want still, right?"
"Yes," I say firmly. It's the one thing I know to be true. Every decision I make as soon as I'm in that arena is to save her.
I step into the glass circular cylinder, breaking us off from each other. I feel a rush of fondness for her. Out of many Capitol people I've met, she's been one of the kindest and most understanding. I try to stand up straight as the cylinder rises, lifting me above ground and into the open air. I'm dazed by the sunlight, the brightness of it confusing me. I look around, the chilly open air shocking me. The smell of pine trees is floating around me.
The Games announcers, Claudius Templesmith, voice booms. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"