Disclaimer & note: I don't own any character except for Johnny and Rye. I kept playing on the bread idea. Johnny is like Johnnycake and Rye is just rye haha. The other characters belong to the brilliant Suzanne Collins :) All the quotes that involve Peeta hearing Katniss and all is the work of Ms. Collins NOT me.
I really try to put my feelings into a facial expression- my eyes are down, and I give a sad expression, but a blush shows my embarrassment. Now that that's all out on the table and the whole world knows my secret, I feel like I can relax a little. My eyes flit over to Katniss and see that she's blushing as well. It's unmistakable and she purses her lips, staring at the floor. This is the perfect reaction to the confession. It makes it seem like Katniss is helplessly in love with me as well.
"Oh, that's one piece of bad luck," Caesar says sadly, but clearly. He sounds sympathetic and a little pained himself. The crowd is beyond themselves, all broken up. Some of the members of the audience are crying or giving painful cries, as if they're the ones in a bad situation. Yes, I have given Katniss and myself, by far, the most attention of all the interviews. My explanation that Katniss has a lot of lovers at home, my confession, her reaction- just golden.
"It's not good," I say, giving a sad smile.
"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?" Caesar asks, in the same sypathetic, pained tone.
I shake my head, saying, "Not until now."
"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar shouts. I look over at Katniss and she gives me a shocked, panicked look. The crowd is screaming, wanting Katniss to reply. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent," Caesar continues as the cheering dies down. "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."
The crowd's cheering is so loud they can probably hear it all the way in District 12. Then again, it's being played live there now. I return to my chair after saying "Thank you" to all of Panem for listening. My voice, though, accidentally gets caught up in my throat, and it comes out choked.
The anthem is blaring and all of us tributes stand up. I look quickly at screens giving overhead views of the tributes, but they're really only focused on the tributes between Katniss and me, showing our separation. When we head back to the elevators, I can't find Katniss and end up with Cato and Clove in mine. They're glaring at me, knowing I totally won the crowd's favor over them. However, Clove does compliment my performance and I tell her I like her dress. She answers with another death glare and I smile at her so innocently and sweetly, she actually takes it as a compliment. She gives me a small smile, but it looks more like a smirk. The boy from District 10, though, gets on her bad side and she yells about how she's going to kill him in the arena. Then, the elevator shoots up and Cato is holding her back.
Arriving on their floor, Cato says, "C'mon, Clove. Let's go. See you in the arena, Lover Boy. I hope you'll be more valuable than this useless... tribute."
The tributes are all silent as we go up each floor. 3, 5, 7, 8, and finally, 12. I get a quick glimpse of the floors. A crystal chandelier here, a brown quiltlike rug there, wire decoration, and the familiar dining table, where Haymitch, Effie, and the others make plans. No one appears to be on our floor, so I step into the room.
Suddenly, a great force slams into me- Katniss' hands on my chest. I lose balance and crash into some urn. The urn shatters and I tumble down. Oh, gravity. My hands instinctively going down to keep the rest of my body safe, and land in the broken shards. They bleed immediately from the sharp edges. The pain in my hands can't compare to the sting in my heart, for Katniss hating me for this one little thing, this advantage she hasn't realized.
"What was that for?!" I ask, gaping up at her, even though I know the reason. I want to make sure I came up with the right conclusion.
"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" She shouts angrily.
Effie, Portia, Cinna, and Haymitch arrive and immediately take in the scene.
Sucking her breath in horror, Effie asks hysterically, "What's going on? Did you fall?"
"After she shoved me," I scoff, standing up as my anger rises.
"Shoved him?" Haymitch asks. We're already fighting and the only time we should be, is mainly in the arena, which is tomorrow.
"This was your idea, wasn't it?! Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she shouts at Haymitch. At least the anger isn't directed at me for now.
"It was my idea," I say, calming down. I imagine myself in her shoes and understand her anger. Volunteering for her sister, having some random boy say he loves her in front of the entire country. If not sympathy, then I don't know what I feel. Not pity, but maybe a silent understanding. I start pulling the pieces of the urn out if my hands. This is not going to be good for the arena tomorrow. I continue, "Haymitch just helped me with it."
"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" She shouts, even more upset. Oh yeah, I forgot. Along with the volunteering and romance act, there's a sense of no outside help for her. But I think that's from experience, from not needing anyone and having no one help her.
"You are a fool!" Haymitch answers with the same angry tone he adopted from Katniss, but an added bit of disgust. Well, what can you expect from Haymitch? "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own!"
Although it's mean, Haymitch is right. I may not be able to shoot an arrow, or be good with weapons, but I suppose I do know how to convince people, perhaps move a whole tide of a crowd. Katniss seems to be the action girl, the one who's been hunting for all her life.
"He made me look weak!" Katniss shouts, trying to defend her opinion with a last scrap of attack.
"He made you look desirable!" Haymitch snarls. "And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about 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 Twelve!"
"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" She protests, annoyed.
"Who cares?" Haymitch shouts and he grabs her shoulder. She gets pinned to the wall. "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 was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get more sponsors?"
Haymitch seems to have convinced her, as she hesitatates, then shoves his hands off her. She turns around, shaking her hear and seems like she's trying to understand it and attempting to clear her head.
"He's right, Katniss," Cinna says, calmingly and smoothly. He puts his arm around her in a comforting way.
"I should have been told, so I didn't look stupid," she says halfheartedly, shoulders sagging in defeat.
"No, you're reaction was perfect. If you had known, it wouldn't have been as real," Portia exclaims, covering the empty silence.
"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say, acting like I'm mad at her, when really, I could never have been so angry at her. I pull a piece of the urn out of my hand, adding to the anger effect.
"I don't have a boyfriend," she replies quietly, blushing, and I know she's thinking of Gale. Handsome, strong, so desperately sought after by girls his age, but younger and older too. Gale. I can't even compare to him and I'm jealous.
"Whatever," I say tiredly. "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?"
The words sink in and understanding, but a pinch of apology and hurt, crosses her face. The expression she wears is one of sadness and apology for the whole ordeal. She realizes that lie has given her an advantage. I've said she has many admirers, not just me, but those back at home... like Gale.
"After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him too?" She asks tentatively.
"I did, the way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush," Portia responds in a soft, soothing voice.
Effie chirps up about the cameras showing our magical separation when the anthem played, as well as the screams of admiration and delight after my interview. The others are all shouting compliments then.
Haymitch's voice overrides the rest of theirs. "You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."
Turning to me apologetically, Katniss says, "I'm sorry I shoved you."
"Doesn't matter," I respond, shrugging like it's no big deal. "Although it's technically illegal." This comment brings us all to reality, the fate of us and what awaits tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, we will be flown to the arena. This fills me with a sadness I try to push away.
"Are your hands okay?" She asks, concerned.
"They'll be alright," I say, although it's a lie. Then again, she can't tell the difference. My heart has healed a little bit. My hands, though, seem irreplaceable. They'll toss me into the arena without treating my wounds. I probably can't even hold a weapon right, tomorrow, when my life is really in danger. The only thing saving me is the fact that I have the Careers as allies, though I know they will ultimately betray me and probably be the end of me.
As the smell of dinner flows and swirls in the air, everyone drifts toward the dining room, until Haymitch announces, "Come on, let's eat."
Before I get to eat, though, my blood remembers it's part of me and that it should be spurting- or at least dripping, and the blood from my hands run into my soup, a steady flow. Horror crosses Katniss' face, as she sees what she's done. Portia tells me I should get medical treatment and I follow her into my new and soon-to-be-lost, room.
As she treats my wounds, she asks, "What do you think? About going to the arena tomorrow?"
"I... I- uh, honestly? I'm scared, frightened beyond compare," I say. I decide to fully trust Portia, "But if I die, my dying wish can only be-"
"For Katniss to go home," Portia finishes for me.
I'm caught by surprise. "How did you know?" I gasp.
"I can see it in the way you look at her in concern. The genuine feelings you have for her are clear. In what you do, in what you say and answer. You're persuasive voice tonight could not have been one of a liar. Now, lets go back and join the others for the interview recap and see the crowd's reactions," she responds.
We walk back to the dining room to find Avoxes cleaning up. They look miserable, but point to the sitting room to tell us where the rest of our crew are.
Katniss sits on the main couch, tense and bracing herself. Haymitch sits lazily, not concerned at all. Effie is looking slightly worried, like our bad scores will reflect badly on her, although I'm sure she won't get hurt. Oh, these Capitol people. Cinna sits on another couch, looking at the screen with a calm face. He's there for Katniss, probably the neutral in the tension in the room.
I sit down next to Katniss quietly. I stare at the TV. The replays are on. We watch the interviews one by one. Glimmer from One, all sexy in her provocative gold dress and her blond hair and emerald eyes. Something tells me that in the arena, her real killer side will really be revealed. Her sexiness is only the shallow depths of the destroyer she can be. I saw her in training, okay with knives. Although she tries with the bow and arrow, she isn't very good, and no one can be as good as Katniss, but she's stubborn to admit that she has a bad aim . The boy from One, Marvel, is more relaxed, telling the audience how superior he is. He gives a confident smile when Caesar comments on his humor.
The girl from Two, Clove, is not hiding her inner murderer. "Knives," she says when asked her best reason she will survive. "I never miss a target. Never. And I will slit tributes' throats like no tomorrow." She gets many cheers from the audience as she gives a sweet, innocent smile after the insane comment.
This makes her an instant threat to Katniss. I have to protect Katniss. Although I'm teaming up with the Careers, I have to make sure they stay away from Katniss.
Cato (2) is up and he's talking about how confident he is about winning the Games. "Oh, we have a wonderful alliance going on. All you tributes better watch out because this pack is not going to be separated. And we're not showing any mercy." The audience is in a stunned silence and then bursts out in applause. This is the kind of tribute they want to cheer on. The one with control.
The other interviews fly through. The red-haired girl from Five catches my attention. She looks rather shy and innocent, like if she crashed into someone in the beginning of the Games, she's squeal and run away as fast as possible. "My name is Finch, but I am a bit more like a fox than a bird. Obviously, I can't fly, for one." The audience gives a big laugh and she looks relieved. "I analyze the situation and apply myself," she says when Caesar asks her the strategy she plans. "I'm swift and witty and I can hide pretty well too. I can use knives as well." She is the kind of girl who probably will not win. If the Games was based on intelligence, not on strength and survival, I'm sure she'd win. She'll watch the others get slaughtered and just run away. I think she'll last, though, a very long time. She doesn't seem like much of a threat to Katniss. Katniss could probably kill her if her life depended on it.
Soon, little Rue is up for her interview. She wears a multi-colored dress, that even includes little wings. Tonight she really was a bird. The audience sure loved her little bird getup. Very quiet and shy, she answers Caesar's questions. "I'm very hard to catch and if they can't catch me, they can't kill me." She is confident in saying this, and the audience claps for her respectfully, as she is the youngest tribute and definitely the smallest, probably with the smallest chance of winning. I wouldn't underestimate her, though.
Katniss' turn. She manages to choke out that what has impressed her most is the lamb stew. All of Panem must have been laughing for that joke. At the moment, Katniss, who is beside me, is blushing in embarrassment. Returning to the screen, Katniss twirls in her beautiful dress of reflective jewels that make her practically engulfed in flames. She tells the audience that her sister Prim told her to win and that she'll try very hard. This shows her dedication to her family and her determination to go home. One of the reasons why I want to protect her.
I'm mounting the stage on the replay. I make a few jokes that aren't funny at all to me now, but the audience laughs and in the very room, Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch are laughing. Soon my confession is said with embarrassment and Katniss is shown, shocked, not looking at the cameras, staring at the floor, blushing. The anthem is played as chaos erupts and the cameras show my separation. Then the replay is over and a blackness fills the screen. Effie switches it off and a silence lingers in the room. Tomorrow, we are going into our deaths, murders by other kids. We will wake up at dawn for final preparations. The Games start at ten because the lazy, lazy Capitol people rarely rise before that time. I think it's because they'll party all night or can't sleep because they are just so excited by the Games happening the next day. Their favorite pasttime is seeing kids get murdered and turned into monsters on live television.
We won't be able to see Haymitch or Effie tomorrow. Cinna and Portia will stay with us for a bit before launch time, but the real goodbyes are said here. There are sponsors for Haymitch and Effie to take care of, gift timings to be planned. It's comforting to know that Haymitch will be sending gifts at appropriate times for Katniss and me, that he'll watch over us. That he'll see me as I live my last moments, my sacrifice of life for the girl I love. The girl from the Seam. The girl I gave my bread to. The girl on fire. The girl I love and now the Capitol loves too, because of me. Katniss Everdeen.
Effie starts to tear up as she wishes us luck and grabs our hands. Reassuring who, herself or us, I can't say.
"You two have been te best tributes I have ever helped! I don't think we'll see each other again very soon, as I know you'll give a good fight. One of you, I'm sure will come home! After all, I trained you on SO many things!"
Trained us on "SO many things"? More like manners. Manners are surely the best weapon in a forest of crazy sociopath kid murderers. Manners will totally dave my life, not being able to find food or defend myself. Sometimes Effie says the most ridiculous things.
"Do you suppose I will get promoted into a better district than your drab District 12 for next year? I wouldn't be surprised! I probably will and I'll have a great future!" Effie continues. Katniss and I just nod. She gives us both gentle kisses on our cheeks, which must be a rarity and so very exclusive from her. She scurries off quickly, like she's under so much emotional stress or has something so much more important than saying goodbye to two kids who will most likely be slaughtered tomorrow.
Haymitch studies both of us. Crosses his arms.
To fill up the silence, I say, "Any final words of advice?"
"When the gong sounds, get te hell out of there," Haymitch says, nodding and agreeing with himself. Was that his strategy when he was young? Did he have next to nothing? "You're neither of you up to the blodd bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water," Haymitch seems satisfied with his finish, but then says, "Got it?" Like we will disobey.
"And after that?" Katniss asks, hoping for real, life-saving advice.
"Stay alive," Haymitch replies. He has said it before, but this time he means it for real. He's not drunk and out of it anymore. We nod.
Katniss heads back into her room for the night and I am about to as well, when Portia calls me back. We watch Katniss go and Haymitch tells us to join him in the sitting room, where we watched the interviews.
"My advice about not going to the Cornucopia," Haymitch starts, "make sure Katniss follows it. However, I do want you to go into the blood bath." He waits for it to sink in.
"But I could die!" I say, agast.
"Relax, remember that the Careers consider you one of them now. You just have to score some spears or knives. Kill only when someone's out for your blood. At least for the blood bath. Kill all you want throughout the day, but be careful in the Bloodbath. When the gong starts, you sprint into that Cornucopia and grab a weapon." Haymitch tells me.
I just nod and tell Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch that I'll stay in the sitting room for a while. They head to their rooms and tell me to get some rest.
I quickly change my clothes from the fabulous suit with flames. It's like I'm going back to the reality I tried to hide with the fantasy clothes and luxury. I attempt to sleep, but it is evident that after an hour, it is impossible. Faces of my family swirl through my head. Katniss dying is the most constant thought. The fact that I might not get to tell her that my love confession was real. The thought of not being able to protect her is overwhelming.
I slowly climb out of bed, as my hands ache and the bandages are a burden, in my nightclothes and I head up to the roof, too worried, about my Katniss' fate, my own inevitable death, and my family, to sleep. I listen to the windchimes and watch the rich people below celebrate. I feel more sick than ever during the Games. These Capitol people are celebrating our deaths. Bets will be placed. We are just entertainment.
I lose track of time as I watch the cheering crowds below. About two hours later, I hear her footsteps behind me.
"You should be getting some sleep," Katniss tells me.
I give a slight shake of my head and say sarcastically, "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."
She walks the extra yard to stand by my side. Looking down, she asks, "Are they in costume?"
I reply, "Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep either?"
"Couldn't turn my mind off," she replies with a sad smile.
"Thinking about your family?" I ask. All I can think of is Katniss not returning and Prim wailing with her cat named Buttercup. Their mother weeping, already having lost her husband. Katniss' father died in a mining accident when she was eleven. Poor, poor Prim and their mother, waiting for Katniss to come home as they are no doubt still waiting for the father.
"No," Katniss answers, which surprises me. Is she maybe just thinking about what will happen tomorrow, how many ways she can die? She admits, "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow, which is pointless, of course." Suddenly, she glances down at my hands and says, "I really am sorry about your hands."
"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I reply assuredly. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway." My only goal is to die saving her.
"That's no way to be thinking," she says softly.
"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and..." I hesitate a bir, trying to figure out how to explain the riled up emotions I've felt since I arrived here in the Capitol.
"And what?" She asks, curious and confused at what I want to say.
"I don't know how to say it exactly," I confess. "Only... I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I know she isn't getting it. I want to show them that although I'm playing in their Game, I'm a boy, a boy that some people care about, a boy who matters. I don't want to be a killing machine, a cold-hearted person the Capitol concocted, like the muttations, an enhanced being that is changed into someone else, twisted and brainwashed. "I don't want them to change me in there," I continue. "Turn me onto some kind of monster that I'm not."
With some thought, Katniss asks me, "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"
"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..." I hesitate again. "... to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."
"But you're not," she protests. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."
"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I reason. "Don't you see?"
Confusion must cloud her thoughts as she answers, "A little. Only... no offense, but who cares, Peeta?"
Strangely, I'm made. Rage fills me. Heat so intense runs up my body, reddens my face. No one would ever understand. And there's nothing left in the world that I would really care for. I just want to be myself, not be controlled, when I die, die as a human being, one that kills with kindness not knives, or one that will love, love Katniss until the end of time.
"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I bring my storming blue eyes to meet her gray ones. I am so mad that some simple concept can be lost, even by kids going to die.
"Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive," she responds, taking a step back.
"Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart," I say. I know it will hurt, but it's necessary.
"Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's tour choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve," she retorts hotly.
"Wouldn't surprise me if you do," I give another sad smile and know that truthfully, I wouldn't be surprised. She certainly has the determination. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"
I can't imagine what she's thinking as she says, "Count on it," and leaves the roof.
It must seem like I don't value my life or something. I do, but I don't have much to live for, except for keeping Katniss alive. I watch the cheering crowds below, wondering what life would be like if these people knew the pain us tributes will have to go through in the next few hours. For all I know, I could be dead in the morning.
I walk back to my room and slip in and out of nightmares. A mutt ripping my stomach open. Me turning into a raging beast and murdering anyone in sight, eventually Katniss and then myself. Small, sweet Rue, a little deceiver that stabs Katniss in the back. Literally. Finch blowtorching me to death with her red-orange hair whipping around her like the flames, cold eyes. Katniss shooting an arrow through me. Katniss eating poisonous berries. Katniss being drowned by the evil blonde-haired Glimmer. Clove throwing a knife at Katniss, piercing her leg and then throwing the final dagger through her heart. I decide sleep is not an option and lie down, staring in the darkness at the ceiling as light slowly filters in.
Portia slides in my room early in the morning, telling me it's time to leave for the arena, where the final preparation will be. We walk to the roof, where a hovercraft floats, waiting for Portia and me to board. A single ladder is all that's provided for us to head up and as I walk to it and place my hands and feet on the bottom, I'm suddenly being lifted inside, as I seem to feel paralyzed in midair.
A man approaches and tells me that he's going to inject my tracker. Then, he takes my arm and injects the tracker painfully into my forearm. This way, the Gamemakers can see where we are in the arena. Not like they don't have expensive cameras placed inside tree holes or something.
Portia comes up as the man walks away and an Avox leads us to a room, where my breakfast is sitting on a table. I eat slowly, bit by bit, knowing if I eat too much, in the arena I'd regret it. Outside, the city dissolves into wilderness, but for all I know, that could be just a changing image to throw me off about how far we've traveled and what the arena's conditions are like. Soon, it's pitch black, so we must be approaching the arena.
Portia and I climb down the ladder and we're in the Launch Room, where we do the final preparations before going to the arena. The clothes arrive as I take a shower. I try to cherish the warm water, as there will probably not be any warm water in the next few days, let alone a shower stall. As I change, Portia gives me a thorough explanation of the clothes. A large, black jacket is made to reflect body heat. Simple pants are built for exercise. A black T-shirt and belt finishes the outfit, along with boots that are built for distance running. Perhaps there will be a lot of hills and running needed? Could we possibly be in a forest of sorts?
"Are the clothes alright?" Portia asks, worriedly.
"Yes, just my size. How do you think they know how big the clothes have to be?" I ask, trying to distract myself from the horrors of the arena that are sure to come in just a matter of minutes.
"Well, I can't say for sure, but I know they have height and weight on the odds board at the marketplace in the city. Maybe your measurements are recorded elsewhere," Portia replies.
We sit down on a couch in the corner and I notice that I'm actually trembling. Portia offers me water and I gulp it down. I'm still trembling when a voice that's obviously recorded says that I have twenty seconds to step onto a metal platform that will rise to bring me up into the arena.
Portia hugs me and gives me a warm smile. "Good luck, Peeta. You're going to do just fine. We'll all be watching and knowing your sacrifice for Katniss."
I nod and step onto the plate as it rises. The last thing I see before the darkness engulfs me is Portia's face clouded with worry, even with the smile she tries to keep.
Fifteen seconds later, I can't seem to see. The darkness has made my eyes adjust to it and the sunlight burns. Slowly, my eyes get used to the light, and I feel a wind gust and slap me in the face, making me a bit dizzy. Before I can recover, I hear the boom of the voice of Cladius Templesmith, the announcer for the Games.
"Let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"
Special thanks to Jill Thompson for your words of comfort. Of course the fact that you still read this fanfic is comforting in itself because I know it's gotten harder to write with all the schoolwork and stuff ^^ So, really, thanks, and for all the readers out there :)