A/N
I don't know if you guys noticed, but I added cover pics to all my stories! I hope you like them! ;)
I turned on the TV and selected the program I wanted to watch.
72nd Hunger Games
Reaping Day
A menu popped up on the screen listing all twelve districts, asking me which district's reaping day I wanted to watch first. I scrolled down until the cursor reached District 12.
I hesitated for a moment before continuing.
I wondered if maybe I should wait until Peeta came home, and ask him what happened in the Games instead of secretly watching it behind his back.
But my desire to know who it was burned so strong, that I couldn't wait. I had to see for myself.
My palms were sweaty as I held the remote in my hand and tentatively pushed down the button that would unravel the secret that Peeta had kept so long from me.
The video immediately flicked on and the opening credits of the game began appearing on the screen.
I could hear Claudius Templesmith's voice over the speaker announcing the start of the 72nd Hunger Games. His voice automatically sent chills down my spine as it reminded me of all the dead tributes whose names he had announced during my stay in the arena.
I gulped down as the district name was announced and the camera panned to show the town square where hundreds of scared, underfed children were standing in their best rags, positioned into rows according to their age, bracing themselves to hear the names of their friends, their loved ones, or even their own.
I saw Mayor Undersee mount the stage and begin a speech about the sacred nature of the Games and it's role in Panem's history. I hastily found the fast forward button and pressed down on it, hard, skipping the Mayor's contrived speech about making sacrifices for the nation.
If making sacrifices was so important to the nation, then why didn't the citizens of the Capitol ever have to make any sacrifices of their own?
I left my finger pressed down on the fast forward button, until I had skipped past the video noting Panem's history in the Games, and the ceremonious entrance of Effie and her introduction of the district's only surviving Victor, Haymitch. Effie had chosen to wear a bright yellow ensemble that year so she appeared only as a small bee zooming across the screen as I continued fast forwarding the video clip.
Luckily, Haymitch hadn't fallen over the stage and made a complete fool of himself that year. He merely said a word or two before sitting down on a chair next to Mayor Undersee, and putting his arm around him in an obviously drunken manner. I didn't stop fast forwarding the clip until I saw the two reaping balls being brought onto the stage by a pair of Peacekeepers. I automatically let go of the remote and let it fall onto my lap, as my eyes focused on Effie who was now sauntering over to the reaping bowl closest to the edge of the stage.
Effie announced that it was time to pick the girl tribute in her disgustingly cheery voice as her well-manicured hand dropped into the bowl and clawed out the name of some unfortunate district 12 girl.
I held my breath as I anticipated hearing the name Mellark ringing from Effie's hideously decorated mouth.
"Nadine Colewater," Effie chirped happily, beckoning the young girl to the stage.
She was a small girl with black, curly hair who was only a few inches taller than Prim, but almost twice as skinny. I remembered seeing her around my neighborhood playing with the other Seam children. She couldn't have been more than 13 years old.
She looked frightened as she climbed the stairs leading up to the stage, staring at Effie with such terror in her big grey eyes that she almost toppled over her own feet. I felt sorry for the poor girl, yet at the same time I felt somewhat relieved, knowing that she was from the Seam. That meant the girl couldn't possibly be related to Peeta in any way.
So it wasn't a sister he had lost, but maybe it could've been a brother.
I waited anxiously as I saw Effie pull the second bowl closer to where she stood. She dipped her fingers into the glass bowl and sifted through the slips until she had landed on the one she wanted. She pulled out the slip of paper, and held it out in front of her as she read the name aloud.
"Joseph Silas Sherwood."
Sherwood. So it wasn't a Mellark.
The camera zoomed in on a boy who stood in the same row as Peeta, only a few boys stood between them, signifying that they had to be around the same age. The boy had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, similar to Peeta's but different all the same.
He didn't look startled as the other girl had been once her name was called, and he didn't hesitate as he instantly marched over to the podium, as if he couldn't wait to get there.
The camera lingered on the boys that surrounded him for a moment before panning out to follow his descent onto the stage. I saw Peeta's eyes widen in fear and face grow pale as soon as the boy's name had been called. Now, as the camera once again surveyed the reaction of his peers, I saw that Peeta looked just as scared as he did before. He seemed paralyzed with fear.
The camera veered its attention back to the stage, where the boy had already ascended. Effie congratulated him and then persuaded him to shake hands with his district partner. The little girl looked at him fearfully, as he shook her hand without any semblance of emotion on his face. The girl was only a year younger than him, but he was at least twice as big. His arm muscles rippled slightly as he gripped her small trembling hand and shook it confidently with one abrupt motion, before quickly letting go.
Effie said some words, which I fast forwarded through, wishing that was something I could always do when she opened her mouth to speak. Then suddenly something caught my eye. It wasn't when Haymitch started dancing on the stage. No. It was something more subtle than that.
It something I saw when the camera had zoomed in to show a close up of Joseph's face. I rewinded the tape until I had reached the close up once more. I paused on the frame.
It wasn't the cold look in his eyes that caught my attention. If he felt any fear, he wasn't showing it. It was carefully concealed behind a veneer of apathy and dogged determination. The type of determination that wasn't common among most tributes reaped from our district.
No, it wasn't his face that had caught my attention.
It was the pendant around his neck.
A leather cord held a metallic pendant that glistened in the sun. I noticed the pendant was abnormal in its shape yet oddly familiar.
It was the very same pendant that Peeta wore as his token in the arena.
The one that signified Justice.
At that moment, I understood that whoever this boy was to Peeta, whether he was a cousin or a friend, he obviously meant a lot.
That was all I needed to know.
I flicked off the TV.
I had found out his name. And a piece of evidence proving his connection to Peeta. Now I just had to figure out why he had this connection to him.
I decided I would ask Peeta to go to his mother's house later that day, when we could discuss the issue in private.
I looked at the time and noted that it was almost time to pick up Prim from school. I knew she didn't want me to, but I'd be damned if I let her walk home alone and then get picked up by a Peacekeeper along the way.
I hurried off to take care of my sister. When I returned home hours later, I found Peeta sitting on the couch with the remote in his hands, waiting for me.
He didn't greet me as he usually did. He didn't even look at me.
I noticed the TV wasn't on. Peeta just stared at the floor, with his body slumped on the couch.
"I saw the remote on the couch," he explained. He continued looking toward the ground, if he couldn't bare to look at my face. "I thought you were watching the Games. Reliving your nightmares. Our nightmares."
I approached him silently, and sat down beside him, gently placing a hand on his slumped shoulder.
"But it wasn't our game," he said with despair.
"No," I answered softly.
He turned to look at me with a look of fear in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether he could trust me or not.
He looked like a wounded animal, one who was shot, but not yet killed. The image reminded me of the first few animals I had shot when I was learning to hunt. I did a bad job of it, and I could never kill the animal instantly, so it withered in my grasp, begging me for mercy, but never fully trusting that I would be willing to give it.
"We need to talk," I whispered calmly, as I gently caressed his shoulder. "We'll go to your mother's house, and you can explain everything to me there."
He turned away from me and shook his head despondently.
"They'll probably be asleep by now."
"Tomorrow, then."
"Thursday," he muttered under his breath.
A familiar smile cracked against his brooding face. "My mother won't be home then," he added.
His smile disappeared just as soon as it had come. He rose up from the couch and set the remote back in its place by the TV. He avoided my gaze as he bid me goodnight and sullenly climbed up the steps and into his room.
