The opening ceremonies are about to start and we are instructed onto our chariots. "What do you think?" I whisper to Peeta. "About the fire?"
"I'll rip your cape off if you do mine?" he says with gritted teeth.
"Deal," I say. I'm so nervous beyond belief that I start to giggle like a small child. Peeta must be too because he joins in. The opening music begins and I grip the rail with white knuckles. I can feel the cool metal begin to give in to the pressure, so I release my grip. Strong emotions bring out my strength, which isn't always a good thing when I need to conceal my powers from the capitols eye. District 1's chariot begins to move and slowly, one by one, each chariot moves off to follow behind. The chariot in front of us is just rolling out as Cinna appears with a lit torch. He sets both our capes alight before igniting our headdresses. I flinch, expecting to be burnt alive but the fake fire only tickles my skin.
Cinna gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"
He hops off the chariot as we begin moving. I can hear the crowd roaring as the other tributes pass through. I can just imagine their screams of horror as they witness two children be burnt to death. Although, that has happened in the games before and they thought it was the best entertainment yet.
I feel Peeta slip his hand into mine and squeeze it tight. "What are you doing?" I scream as I yank my hand away.
"Cinna told us to," he says red in the face.
"I don't remember him saying that," I argue.
"He just did as he hopped off the chariot. You probably weren't paying attention," he says placing his hand back into mine, "Trust me." I don't pull away but turn around to see Cinna give me thumbs up in confirmation.
We enter the city and the crowd is silenced with shocked looks on their faces. Their alarm quickly dissipates and they begin to cheer and chant "District 12!" This is the most acknowledgment District 12 has received, ever. I'm not used to the attention and I freeze.
"Ow Katniss!" I hear Peeta scream. I've been clutching his hand a little too tight. This hiding my powers thing is going to be harder than I thought.
I catch a glance of us on a large television screen and I'm amazed at how incredible we look. We look fierce and that's how I want to be remembered. This fills me with a bit of confidence and I remember Cinna's words; Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you! I lift up my chin, put on a smile and wave with my free hand. Peeta follows my example and the crowd goes wild.
We enter the City Circle and come to a halt at the front of President Snow's mansion. The president, a small thin man with paper-white hair gives an official welcome from a balcony above us. After his speech, our chariots do one last circle before making their way into the Training Centre.
As soon as the doors close our stylists come to our rescue, distinguishing our flames. The other tributes give us death glares, angry at us for stealing the spotlight. I hope this hasn't made me more of a target.
A hand helps me off the chariot and I recognise who it is immediately. Finnick Odair. The charming green eyed, blonde haired victor from the 71st Hunger Games. He won at the age of 14 by trapping the other tributes in snares and then spearing them with his trident.
"Hello Katniss," he says with a wicked smile.
"Hello Finnick," I reply with a flat tone, "Mentoring this year again I see." Finnick had mentored the District 4 tributes for the past two games, neither years yielded a winner.
"Yes I am, but I'm not too confident that I have a winner this year either," he says, indicating to his two tributes, one of whom is obviously intoxicated and the other picking her nose. I allow myself to smile for a second before wiping it off my face. I don't know why Finnick is talking to me but it can't be good. "No worries, I never get too close and personal with my tributes anyway. They always seem to..." he pauses with a thoughtful on his face, "slip away," he says with a wave of his hand.
I'm beyond weirded out at this point and can't find any words to get me out of this situation. Luckily, Peeta, who has apparently been standing behind us the whole time, clears his throat and announces that Haymitch and Effie are expecting us. He grabs my hand and pulls me away. I follow stiffly, still shaken up by that close encounter with Finnick. He's just another example of how badly the games mess people up.
Peeta and I rode the Training Centre elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor in silence. By the expression on his face, I could tell that he was just as freaked out by Finnick as I was. Portia and Cinna joined us and for dinner, and Haymitch actually scrubbed up and appeared somewhat sober. We all engaged in small talk that was mostly centred on our stylist's job well done. Apparently the commentators named me 'The girl on fire'. It fills me with a bit of confidence. Hopefully the recognition will get me a few sponsors. Once everyone else had retreated to bed, Peeta pulled me aside and invited me onto the roof.
"Cinna said that this is the only place in the building that isn't under surveillance," he says as he closes the door to the roof behind us. The fact that we're safe from the Capitol up here soothes my nerves. On the other hand, I now know that not even our rooms are private. I am going to be monitored 24 hours a day. How on earth will I be able to practice my telekinesis? I still haven't developed any legacies and I need to try and bring them out as soon as possible, otherwise I'll have no chance in hell of being able to survive the Hunger Games.
"Hey Peeta, I've been meaning to ask you something," I say cautiously. I think now is as good a time as ever to learn the truth.
"Go ahead," Peeta presses, somewhat eager to hear what I have to say.
I decide to jump straight to the point. "You volunteered for Gale. Why?" Peeta shakes his head and walks over to the bench to sit with his back to me. Rude. I sit next to him and give him the biggest scowl I can manage. He just laughs quietly.
"Okay, " he takes a deep breath and sighs, "I volunteered because I really wanted to win. You know, get the money and make a better life for my family."
"I don't believe you," I blurt out. He's a merchant kid. He's not well off like the Capitolites or the people in wealthier districts, but he's still a hundred times luckier than those from the Seam. It angers me that he would even say that. But I know that he's just trying to come up with a different explanation, away from the truth. I don't understand why he and Gale don't want to tell me. It's not even that big of a deal. He sits there with his head turned away from me. "Seriously, what was so bad about your life? You were well fed, had four solid walls and a decent roof over your head to keep you safe, your father wasn't at risk of dying in the mines,"
"My life wasn't perfect Katniss!" he cuts me off, "The bakery was a risky business. Most of 12 couldn't afford baked goods. They went to the seam for the cheap stuff. I know it wasn't their fault, but business was slow and we could barely make a profit. Any profit we did make went towards taxes. When my brothers got married and moved out, they wanted nothing to do with my parents or the bakery. I was only ten years old and I had to start working. I missed school a lot because my mother made me work. She hated the bakery. And she hated my father for his passion for the business. She blamed him for the hard times. And she took it out on me too. I was under constant scrutiny. If I ever slipped up, burnt a piece of bread, she would strike me. It happened almost every day," his voice begins to soften, "I know that I couldn't even begin to imagine how tough your life has been, and I know I'm one of the lucky ones in our district, but my life wasn't perfect."
"I'm sorry," I say. I know District 12 is one of the poorest districts. And no one there lives a blessed life. But I'm not an idiot. I know that's not the reason he volunteered.
"It's okay. I'm sorry for getting angry at you," he sighs. We sit in silence for a while, listening to the wind howling around us. "So you know my life story, what's yours?" Peeta says playfully.
If only he knew. I can't tell him the truth. And I don't want to open up to him much given the circumstances. But for some reason I just start talking. I tell him the fake story about how my father died in the mines and my mother died after my birth. It's somewhat true I guess. I then tell him how I was raised by my uncle and partially Hazelle.
"I know your uncle," Peeta says to my surprise, "He's friends with my mother." He explains. I didn't even know that Uncle Beau had any friends besides Hazelle. This is shocking news for me and I nudge Peeta to continue. "He comes into the bakery every day and tussels my hair."
"He always does that to me too! He treats me like a boy," I say with an excitable tone.
"Yeah, he's a really nice guy. He always talks to my mother. I swear I've never seen her smile any other time. He always gets her laughing. She turns into a completely different person. And she gives him two bread rolls on the house, every day. It's weird," he adds. That is weird. I thought that Uncle Beau used to buy the bread rolls. And I would lecture him every day for wasting his money.
The conversation fizzled out from there. I was left with a lot to think about. I know absolutely nothing about my own uncle. Is this why he didn't want me to be the one to kill Peeta?
Messed with Finnick's games to fit timeline (apologies). Thanks to JaclynnM for the motivation to finish this chapter :)
