A/N: Updated november 20. Thank you so much to Bellum Gerere for a great job prereading.
Chapter 11 – Some Search for Gold
Some far away
Some search for gold
Some dragon to slay
Heaven we hope is just up the road
Show me the way Lord, because I am about to explode
Carry your world, I'll carry your world
Carry your world, I'll carry your world
Carry your world and all your hurt
Coldplay, "Atlas"
There are two scared twelve-year-olds sitting in front of me. What am I going to do with them? They don't have any skills even remotely useful for the Games. My only hope is that the other twenty-two tributes are as frightened and useless as mine. There must be something I can do. I can't give up before it has even started. Get a grip, Katniss, I tell myself. You have to do everything you can to help them! And I will. That much is clear to me.
"Maybe this year won't be a career year. There have never been such young career contestants. They can't have had the same training as the older ones. What do you think, Haymitch? That has to be good?" The last part comes out sounding more like a question then I intended. I look to Haymitch for support, but he just shrugs, looking away, refusing to answer my question. Thanks a lot, Haymitch. Has he given up already?
I think back to last year. Back then I was one of the frightened tributes sitting in the chairs they are now. I thought I had secured myself a one-way trip to the Capitol, that I was going to die and never see my home—or my family—again. To some extent I know how they feel, but then again, I also don't have a clue.
I take a closer look at the two tributes. No, I tell myself. Laraine and Tad, those are their names. Not acknowledging them as humans feels like I've already written them off, and I am trying not to do that. I'm going to fight for them, just like I fought for my own life when I was a tribute.
"We have a long train ride ahead of us. I can start your training by showing you some basic survival skills, like what to eat and not to eat. I can show you some basic snares. It's also a good start if you just pick up a knife or even a bow, so that the first time you do isn't in the Arena." I kick Haymitch under the table.
"Yeah, sure. That'll be a start," he says, but I hear no commitment in his voice. He really has given up.
After dinner, we all gather around the television to watch the recap of the reapings in other Districts. I've spent the entire train ride so far trying to stuff as much information into Laraine and Tad as I possibly can. In return I have discovered that Tad is a fast learner. He can pick up even the smallest pieces of information in a short time. He's kind at heart, but has more spirit than I first gave him credit for. On the other hand, I'm not sure if he has it in him to kill someone.
Laraine is an outgoing girl with has a sharp tongue and strong opinions. I was right about her Seam look—her mother was from the Seam, but married into one of the richer families in the District. She has lots of friends and is, as I understand, a natural-born leader. With a little help from Haymitch, she will do great on the interview. She will easily fit many of the countless angles Haymitch tried on me, to no avail.
The more I learn about the two, the more difficult it will be to watch them die, but I push the thought away. Maybe I can bring one of them home. But not both, a small voice in the back of my head whispers. One of them will not come back, no matter how hard you try. One has to die for the other to live.
"It's starting. Hush, everyone," Effie says in an excited voice, even though nobody made the slightest sound.
It starts, as usual, in District 1. My mouth falls open when the girl's name is called and at once another calls out to volunteer. What is she thinking? I can't wrap my mind around it. The same thing happens in districts 2 and 4. All volunteers.
Do they want to die? They're only twelve years old. They should be scared to death by the very thought of going into the Games.
Then it hits me. They don't think they're going to die. They only possibility they can conceive is that of winning. The honor, the glory, the prospect of being the youngest victor ever to win the Hunger Games. The sparkling crown at the end is all they see.
They are twelve years old, and they think they're invincible. They don't think they can die.
"You saw this coming, didn't you?" I ask Haymitch under my breath. All he does is nod, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. That small sign that gives him away, confirms that he does care more than he wants to show. Probably more than he wants to care.
The rest of the tributes pass by in a blur. All so small and fragile. Only a few stand out to me. I have a strange feeling I've seen the boy from 2 before, but that can't be, and I dismiss the thought. The girl from 6 sticks out because she's so tall and clumsy, she almost trips over on her way to the stage and has to grip the arm of a peacekeeper for support. The girl from District 8 seems even smaller than the rest. If I had to guess, I wouldn't have thought she was more than seven or eight. The boy from District 10 has to be dragged away from a screaming woman who is probably his mother.
I carefully watch Laraine out of the corner of my eye. She's crying softly into her hands as she watches. I wonder if she's thinking of her own mother, whom she also left behind crying. Tad sits stoically beside her, not moving, not speaking, just watching. I have no idea what's going through his mind.
District 11 is up. A girl with big brown eyes and a boy that I can tell is fighting back tears are called. Then it happens. There's only a small glimpse of it in the background when the two tributes walk off the stage, but it happens. People start raising their hands. It's our sign from District 12. The one I used to say goodbye to Rue, the one my own District gave their tributes as a last goodbye. I didn't know it was used in other Districts as well.
I know it wasn't meant to be seen. It should have been cut before the reapings were broadcasted to the Districts. Somewhere in the Capitol, I'm sure whoever edited the program is getting a scolding…or worse.
After 11, there's only our own reaping left. Laraine is called and then Tad, before the broadcast is cut and a close-up of a smiling Claudius Templesmith fills the screen. The last sign of respect from the crowed is safely cut away.
Haymitch pushes a button and the screen goes black. We're all feeling drained and despair seems to have sunk its claws into every one of us—except for Effie, who's her usual oblivious self as she happily pushes Laraine and Tad off to their bedrooms.
"It's a big, big day tomorrow! Off you go, you two," she says, leaving me alone with Haymitch.
"How did you know?" I ask. I don't need to elaborate. He knows what I mean.
"You've always been a bit naïve, sweetheart. No, forget that. You can be just damned stupid sometimes. You don't see the glory of the Games. That's the only thing they see. To them it's just a big game. A tournament to win. A…celebration. To you it was all about staying alive."
"But they're going to die," I protest.
"Yes, but they don't think so. They think they're going to win." I've already come to the same conclusion, but Haymitch saying it aloud makes it seem more real. For a moment, we're both silent. Somewhere in another car, I hear muffled voices and laughter.
"How are we going to get one of them home?" I'm the first to break the silence.
"We won't," he answers.
I should yell at him, tell him to pull it together. I should demand he get a grip and at least try to help them. I should fight about not giving up before we've even started. But I don't. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow I'll make Haymitch see sense.
Tomorrow comes, after a night full of dreams about dozens of young children killing each other with knives, sticks and bare hands. I'm not really in a fit state to mentor anyone, but I don't really have a choice.
"Haymitch, we need to talk," I say the second I see him, determined to tell him off now rather than later.
"Yes, sir," he says, following me into an empty room and closing the door.
"You've come to lecture me about how I should make an effort to keep these kids alive? I'm surprised you didn't do it before. I was ready for a fit last night." I gape at him. "So come on…" He makes a ridiculous gesture, indicating that he's ready for combat.
"It's not a joke, you know!" I almost shout at him, my anger boiling over.
"Oh, I know that, I do," he says, lifting his eyebrows at me.
"They deserve our help. We're supposed to help them. You can't just give up."
"That's where you're wrong. They don't deserve our help. They deserve to not even be in this mess in the first place. But they are. And at the end, there's nothing we can do about it. I learned long ago that the simplest way to cope is not to give those poor kids too much hope."
"But what about last year? What about Peeta and me? You did help us, and I did make it!"
"But you were different! These two are just like the rest. They aren't going to make it!" We are both shouting now, trying to make the other see sense.
"You didn't really give us a chance at first either. You can at least try!" He looks at me for a long time. His face is devoid of any emotion. After getting to know Haymitch, I know that his expression is emptiest when he's really thinking something through.
"Okay, okay, I'll do it," he says at last.
"Good," I respond before getting up and walking to the door. I open it and almost stumble over Laraine, who's standing right outside. Tad and Effie are standing motionless right behind her. One look at their faces and I know they've heard.
Effie looks shocked, but it's Tad that draws my attention. Determination is forming on his face. Up until now, I have only seen him as my little sister's childhood friend, but now…he has grown years in just a few seconds.
"You said you could show us how to shoot. I want to try that," he says stubbornly, like a child defying its parents. He is only a child, I tell myself sternly. Laraine, who up until now has been the leader, just nods. I agree at once. Breakfast can wait.
Tad and Laraine looks just as overwhelmed and shocked as I felt, when they see the Capitol for the first time. The towering buildings, the dolled-up people, the extreme luxury…it's still making me sick to my stomach.
"Wave and smile. I'm sure you can do much better at that than your young mentor here," Haymitch taunts. Is this how it's going to be the whole time? Insults every other sentence? I sigh, but at least he has come up with helpful advice. That's an improvement.
"Oh, we're here! It is going to be so exciting. First, we're going to our apartment, and then you're off to see your prep teams and stylists. I am so looking forward to see what Cinna and Portia have planned this year. I know it's going to be amazing! Everyone is wearing his designs these days!" Effie says, positively glowing.
"Don't worry, Cinna is one of the best the Capitol has to offer," I whisper under my breath to a less-than-happy Laraine.
Last time, I found myself being stripped of hair and scrubbed until my skin was raw. This year it seems like no one cares how I look, which suits me just fine. I'm left to wait. It's tiresome, but when Haymitch is off to see Chaff, one of the mentors for District 11, I decline his offer to go with him. From what I understand, Chaff and Haymitch bonded over lots of heavy drinking, and I'm not up for that. I'm going to face the other mentors soon enough, whether matter if I want to or not.
It's a pleasant surprise when Cinna shows up, and we get a chance to talk. Right before he is about to go, he hands me a garment bag.
"I know that it's not you in the spotlight this year, but I thought it wouldn't hurt the tributes' chances of getting sponsors if the people remember who their mentor is. Don't hide from the cameras. Showing yourself off will only help them." He winks at me, and disappears.
The dress, of course, is beautiful: black, with faint flames flickering along the length of the skirt. Cinna is trying to make sure no one forgets I was the girl on fire. I, on the other hand, can't wait to forget that little fact.