Chapter 10
I do not own the Hunger Games The characters and the world of Panem belongs to Suzanne Collins. I don't know what I would do without her.
Tenth Chapter! WOO! It's a long one. So maybe you could leave me a review in return?
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I adjust myself to a more comfortable position, leaning back against a tree to continue watching. My eyes scanned the small clearing in the trees. Nothing. I glance over at Katniss's sleeping form. It's been like this since we got into the arena. She hunts, I guard, and we survive. The first few days were difficult. The careers followed us, eager to kill Katniss. To them, she is a threat. But we got away, eventually. The careers followed a false trail that Katniss set a few hours ago.
Her steady breathing next to me is the only sound in our small camp. Katniss lies with her body curled around her bow that we snagged from the cornucopia. The spear in my hand rests against my leg, ready for someone to come close. We are doing well. We aren't hurt, only a few grazes and cuts from the chase with the careers.
Haymitch hasn't done too badly with our sponsors either. They sent us a few loaves of bread when we get hungry and medicine in case our cuts get infected. Katniss is safe, that's what's important. I shake her shoulder gently, waking her. It's her turn for watch. Just as her eyes start to adjust, we are attacked. Four figures lunge into our little clearing, all brandishing heavy weapons. I leap up, followed shortly by Katniss. She shoots an arrow, right into the eyes of a career. Just like her squirrels. He falls, a canon sounds, resonating around the Arena. No doubt all sleeping tributes are awake now. The other three careers attack, using brute force to push Katniss and I away from each other. Separating the targets. Smart.
I bring my spear up, waiting for a career to strike. One does. He runs towards me, tripping on a root, impaling himself on my spear. I swear, the careers are getting more and more stupid. Another cannon fires, and I grimace, trying to pull out my spear. Katniss shoots another arrow, but her target turns in time. It sinks into his arm, and he cries out in pain. A flash of metal catches my eye, and I turn to see a spear speed towards me. Before I have a chance to move, it sinks into my stomach will a dull thump. Katniss screams, the shot career taking advantage of her hesitation, bring a knife to her neck. She freezes, staring at me with horror.
Pain; intense, burning, pain. I double over, grunting as my knees impact with the ground. This is it. This is the end. I cruel laugh fills my ears, and I look up from my profusely bleeding wound to the cold eyes of the last two careers.
"That was smart, a false trail. No doubt her idea." He hisses, gesturing to Katniss. "Too bad it didn't work.". His companion tightens his hold on Katniss's neck. She whimpers as a trickle of blood slowly falls down her neck.
"Get...away...from...her..." I managing, gasping in pain.
"How about NO?" His companion says, laughing. He lands a light kiss on her cheek, earning a growl from me.
"You know, you were quite easy to find. You, Peeta, make a lot of noise. You lead us right to her," says the career, smiling maliciously down at me.
"No!" I cry. I was protecting her, not leading them to her. "No!"
"Now, I think, you can watch her die." He says, holding her sword just over Katniss's heart.
"NO! I cry. "STOP PLEASE!" But they don't listen.
Katniss whimpers, her eyes catching mine. 'Help' she mouths, tears streaming down her face.
"KATNISS!" I cry, just as he drives his sword home.
A cannon fires.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O
I wake, breathing heavily, to a sharp rap on my door.
"Come on boy! I swear; somebody could feed the whole of Panem by the time you bother to wake up," grumbles Haymitch through the door.
Haymitch is absolutely lovely in the morning. I roll over, noticing that my bed is drenched in sweat. I stumble out of bed and into the shower, punching the panel of buttons once again and hoping for the best. I let the water soak my skin, washing away the dream. After being assaulted by a series of soaps, shampoos and sweet smelling bubbles, I notice the outfit lying on the bench waiting for me. Apparently today I will be wearing tight black trousers and a burgundy tunic.
Wonderful.
My growling stomach suddenly starts a war with my common sense, and I put on my trousers backwards. Absolutely fantastic. After a rather large struggle, I make my way to breakfast, my feet clad in leather shoes placed in my wardrobe.
I am not having a good morning.
As I start towards the dining room, I am joined by Haymitch, still grumbling. I suspect he hasn't had any alcohol in a while. Good. A sober mentor is a good mentor. What am I kidding? ANY mentor right now is a good mentor. I doubt Katniss needs a mentor. She could probably just climb a tree somewhere while the rest of us starve or fight to the death. Good; as long as she is safe.
The silence right now is rather awkward. Haymitch and I haven't been alone since the night he passed out in his own vomit. I think he feels guilty. I know why though. He thinks that Katniss has a chance in the games. Me? Not so much. But he's right. I was never going to make it far in the Arena anyway. I always thought that when I got into the Arena, I would protect Katniss. But after my dream last night, I am starting to doubt that idea. I honestly have no clue to what I am going to do now. I am too loud to be with Katniss, but I don't want to leave her by herself.
"Haymitch, can I ask you something?" I ask tersely, attempting to ease the tension.
"You just did." he says gruffly. I roll my eyes. He nods his head, beckoning me to continue.
"Well, I had this dream last night. And Katniss was there. We wer-"
"She really has you hooked, hasn't she?" Haymitch interrupts. I frown. Hooked?
"What do you mean?" I ask, unsure if I want to hear the answer or not.
"She really has an effect on you, doesn't she?" He asks, his face growing more and more serious. I watch my feet, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
"You love her." It isn't really a question, more of a statement. Without giving Haymitch a chance to continue, I open the door to the dining room. Once again, the beautiful aromas of food swirl about the room, drawing me towards the table. I notice Katniss in a chair opposite mine, looking pointedly at my outfit; the same as hers. Great.
"Morning" greets Haymitch, falling into a chair next to me. Always polite to her, considerably. Well, at least better than he is to me. "Good morning Katniss," I say. Katniss smiles at us, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. She's nervous, about the training. So am I. There are three days of training in which all the tributes practise together. On the last afternoon, we all get a chance to show the Gamemakers what we've got.
Who wouldn't be nervous?
She fiddles with a piece of bread, which I immediately recognise as a seeded, crescent- moon shaped roll; District Eleven bread. I finish my meal, and watch as Haymitch finishes platter after platter of stew. I grimace slightly as some stew dribbles down his chin. And Effie thought Katniss and I were bad. He takes a flask from his pocket and takes a long drink. And I thought he was sober. I was so wrong.
"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." Haymitch says, clasping the lid back on the flask.
Separate coaching? Why? My dream floats through my mind again, but I shake it away.
"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks, voicing my thoughts.
"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch. I strain, trying not to laugh. Everyone in their right mind knows that I don't have any secret skills, besides baking, but that isn't a secret. I look at Katniss, and she looks at me. I see in her eyes that she may actually be considering training separately. For some reason, this bugs me.
"I don't have any secret skills," I say quickly. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." She looks relatively surprised by this. She probably thinks we eat the food we bake. Nope. Most of our supplies come from the Capitol, so they're 'not ours to eat', as my mother put it. We only eat the occasional stale loaf that nobody has purchased. Other than that, we have to scrap up money to buy ourselves meat from the butcher. Most of the time we can't afford the meat from the butcher, so when my father brings inside a squirrels from Katniss, it's like a blessing.
"You can coach us together," says Katniss quietly. I nod
"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," says Haymitch.
"I can't do anything," I say straight away. "Unless you count baking bread."
"Sorry, I don't. Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife," says Haymitch.
"Not really. But I can hunt," she says. "With a bow and arrow."
"Are you good?" asks Haymitch. HA! She's more than good. She's brilliant. I remember my father bringing in a squirrel that she shot. I honestly thought it was still alive, aside from the fact that its eyes were closed. There wasn't a hair out of place on its little fury body. It was amazing. That was probably the best squirrel I had ever had. Then there was other time that she did the amazing shot right-
"I'm all right," says Katniss, interrupting my thoughts.
Wait, did she honestly just say 'all right'?
"She's excellent," I say, correcting Katniss. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrow never pierces the body. She hits everyone in the eyes. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." Haymitch raises his eyebrows at me suggestively.
...has you hooked...
I lower my eyes, glaring at the role in my hand. I can feel Katniss's eyes boring into my face, but I concentrate on my role. What is she doing? She is supposed to tell Haymitch about her skills! Not blow it off like its nothing. Haymitch has to see the potential in her, train her better than me, and get her home to safety. After all, there is always a favourite.
"What are you doing?" she asks, suspiciously. I'm surprised by this.
"What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself," I say. I see annoyance flare in her eyes.
"What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift fifty kilo bags of flour," she snaps at me. "Tell him that. That's not nothing."
She's noticed me. The thought stays in my mind, but my attention focuses on her. She has a remarkable temper. I guess that's why her and Gale are close; their tempers. The thought annoys me, and I think back to the promise I made Gale. Bring her home. I want to, but it doesn't help when she underrates herself all the time.
"Yes and I'm sure the arena will be full of sacks of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't." I shoot back at her. Annoyance flares in her eyes again. I can't help but love her more. Obviously, she doesn't see that in my eyes, because she turns to Haymitch.
"He can wrestle," she says. "He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."
As delighted as I am to have her notice me, I get frustrated with the attention on my skills. She has to be the focus, not me.
And I never did like people talking about that tournament. I didn't talk to Arthum for days after. I wish I could have those days now.
"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I ask, slightly disgusted. I remember wrestling with Arthum, how it was a constant struggle against gravity, trying to get the upper hand. Doing that until death? I held back a shudder.
"There's always hand to hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" she cries.
"But you won't be! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me? She says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realised, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" I burst out. I clench my fists together in anger, the memory forming a lump in my throat, my mother's fierce words ringing through my head.
"Oh she meant you," she says, waving her hand dismissively.
"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," I say, watching as guilt washes over her beautiful features. She thinks on that, before speaking so quietly I almost missed it.
"But only because someone helped me." I look down at the roll in her hands, and I am back to the rainy day behind the bakery. I force the images out of my head once again.
"People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you." I say, not actually believing that she feels otherwise.
"No more than you," she says. I roll my eyes.
"She has no idea. The effect she can have," I say, looking at Haymitch. He quirks his eyebrow knowingly at me. I look down, concentrating intently on the wood. Mahogany.
"Well then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"
"I know a few basic snares," she mutters, obviously still angry.
"That may be significant in terms of food," says Haymitch. "And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena." I humph. "Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. IN the training centre they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear, swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you are good at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"
We nod.
"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute," he says. Both of us start to object, but he slams his hand down. "Every minute! It's not up for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."
With that, Katniss storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I watch her go, wishing she wasn't so angry at me.
"What was that?" I shout, fixing my glare on Haymitch.
"What was what?" Haymitch asks innocently.
"Oh I don't know; the fact that you just told Katniss and I to spend every waking minute with each other!" I say.
"I thought you'd be happy about that." He says with a suggestive wink. I glare at him some more.
"You haven't figured it out, have you?" He asks.
"Figured what out?" I say acidly. He sighs.
"What does the capitol like most, Peeta?" The question stops me.
"Um...food?" I say, unsure.
"And?"
"The games?"
"You're almost there Peeta."
"Death?"
"Something to be excited for." He says, seeing my confused expression. He continues. "Capitol viewers are excited by young love, Peeta. They think it's tragic, sad."
Oh.
"Something being the tragic story of loving your fellow tribute, but destined for death. That will get you sponsors." He says.
"Just like what Cinna said." I say, finally understanding.
"Cinna?" Haymitch asks.
"Yeah, don't worry; he just said the exact same thing." I say.
"Right, well, I know it won't be hard for you to act like you love her, considering, but we just need the Capitol to find out."
"How?"
"I don't know, but we will figure it out when the time comes. It's almost ten. You should go." I nod, making my way towards the elevator. It is a smart idea, I guess. I'm not too keen on having the whole of Panem know my feelings to Katniss, let alone Katniss herself, but I guess if it helps Katniss in the Arena in the end, I'll do it.
I see Effie standing impatiently at the elevator. When I get close enough, she fusses over my hair, attempting to settle it. When Katniss emerges from her room, she doesn't even glance at me, let alone acknowledge my existence at all. We make our way to the training rooms, which turns out to be like an enormous gymnasium, filled with weapons, stands and courses for each individual skill. We are shuffled into the tense circle of tributes, all sizing each other up. A white cloth with the number 12 is pinned to our matching outfits. Katniss and I are the only two dressed alike.
This shall be interesting.
I am thinking of changing my pen name to PROCRASTINATOR101 or something similar haha. This was a long one! So I understand that I promised training in this chapter, and this finishes JUST before any training, but I realised this chapter was necessary. I truly am sorry, but this just adds to any further decisions Peeta has to make and it just helps for future dilemmas in the story. I promise that you will get training next chapter.
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and support! So close to a hundred reviews! Oh my gosh! I hope you enjoy chapter 10 :)
Did anyone catch the movie reference? Let me know in a review if you did :) In other words, PLEASE REVIEW!
Xx
TMG