The Hunger Games in Peeta's Point of View
Chapter Eleven
Katniss is quiet as she sits at the table. All of the adults begin to talk in the way they sometimes do; about subjects that have no meaning or significance. I think they're talking about the weather forecast. I look across the table at Katniss. I'm quite surprised when she raises her eyes to me; I can't be sure but I think she might have been crying. I raise my eyebrows in question, knowing that she would know what I was asking – what had happened? She doesn't say anything though, just shakes her head in response.
As the main course is being served, Haymitch finally speaks up and asks what I'm sure is on the forefront of everybody's mind. "Okay, enough small talk – just how bad were you today?" Before the attention falls on Katniss and how upset she was afterwards, I jump in.
"I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song. I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go." The distraction doesn't last long, because Haymitch then turns to Katniss.
"And you, sweetheart?" There's a slight frown on Katniss' brow at the term sweetheart.
"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." There's a stunned silence. All knives and forks stop where they are, all of our eyes on Katniss.
"You what?" Effie sounds horrified.
"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just... I lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!"
"And what did they say?" Cinna asks gently.
"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that." She doesn't look up at any of us, but I can't help the swell of admiration fill me. She had taken a big act of defiance, whilst I had just thrown some balls around.
"Without being dismissed?" Effie gasps, whilst the rest of us watch the exchange.
"I dismissed myself," Katniss says, sounding quite defiant.
"Well, that's that," Haymitch says, then picks up a roll and butters it to resume his meal.
"Do you think they'll arrest me?" Katniss asks, and I look up to see that slight terror in her eyes that others might miss. I realize that after so much watching I knew a lot of Katniss' expressions that she tried to hide.
"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," Haymitch replies.
"What about my family? Will they punish them?" Of course. That terror in her eyes wasn't for her own sake; it was for her mother and sister.
"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since its secret, so it'd be a waste of effort. More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena." Haymitch tells Katniss, and what he says makes sense.
"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway," I cut in, remembering the point of these Games; to make us suffer, to remind us that they have the power over us, which we live because they let us.
"Very true." Haymitch says, and I risk another glance at Katniss. She looks at least a little more cheered than when she had first sat down. Haymitch begins to eat again with his usual manner that causes Effie to frown, then he begins to chuckle to himself. "What were their faces like?"
Almost reluctantly, a small smile stretches across Katniss' lips. "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backwards into a bowl of punch."
And suddenly we are all laughing at the table, except for Effie; who is still trying not to smile. "Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you." Effie is saying, shocking us a little. Her eyes dart around the room in shock. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she says to the air.
"I'll get a very bad score."
"Scores only matter if they're very good; no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy," Portia says.
"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I joke, although not entirely untrue. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of meters? One almost landed on my foot." Katniss grins at me across the table, and I can't help smile back at her. I continue smiling as she begins to eat and watch her a moment longer before casting my gaze elsewhere.
Once dinner is finished we all go to the sitting room and turn on the television, waiting for the scores. The first lot of scores comes as no surprise. The careers get in the highest range and the rest of them get a middle average. Our shadow gets a seven, surprisingly, and I wonder what the young girl might have done in that room for the Gamemakers. Finally, it's our turn. Surprisingly, my name comes up with a score of eight, so the few that had noticed counted for something then. Katniss' face appears on the television and we all stare for a moment as the number elven flashes under it.
We all cheer, everyone is patting Katniss on the back in congratulations and Effie squeals in her excitement.
"There must be a mistake. How... how could that happen?" Katniss asks her eyes on Haymitch.
"Guess they liked your temper. They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat." He replies, the twitch of a smile on his lips.
"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," Cinna smiles, before hugging Katniss. That small ebb of jealousy sprouts in the pit of my stomach. Jealous that her stylist gets to hug Katniss but I probably never would be able to. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."
"More flames?" She asks.
"Of a sort," he replies mischievously.
Katniss and I walk up to one another to congratulate the other. I want to hug her, tell her she did well, tell her that it would be okay, I want to take her in my arms and kiss her. I settle for shaking her hand and smiling awkwardly at her; she returns the smile.
It isn't long before she flees to her room and I decide to go up to the roof. I sit by the railing and stare across the city, admiring the colors' and watching the people go about their night lives. All these people in one city, anticipating our deaths. Waiting to watch us kill one another. I think on this and the fact that in just a few days I would be in the arena and Katniss would be in the arena. And one of us must die.
I think of Katniss' eleven, and my score of eight and my mind is entirely a swirl of different emotions; did I want Katniss to survive, or I did I want to survive myself? I try to imagine what it would be like to go back to District Twelve, imagine if Katniss died in the arena and I somehow came out as victor. No glances across the square, no squirrels at the back door, no grey eyes in my life. The thoughts are unbearable and I shove them to the farthest recesses of my mind, returning to my room so that I can block them out with sleep.