I do not own 'the Hunger Games' or anything related.
A note before the next chapter. When I first came up with this story, it was before I heard anything about the prequel, and when I believed the series was wrapped up with nothing else coming. Whereas I've tried to avoid writing anything that contradicts what happens in the trilogy, 'The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes' has made a different take on Panem's early history from what I imagined. Although I plan to incorporate aspects of it in any unfinished chapters, I'm just going to continue with what I came up with.
Effie and I looked at each other. At once we went for Katniss's door. It had been bolted shut.
"Katniss, honey," Effie knocked on the door, "Are you okay?"
"Go away!" She shouted.
She sounded upset.
"Come on, Sweetheart, I'm sure it didn't go as bad as you think!" I tried, knocking myself.
"I SAID GO AWAY!"
I turned to Effie. What the hell happened down there? I remember how upsetting the game makers' indifference to the 12 tributes could be. After he returned, Matt Rayburn had taken out his anger by throwing some of the ornaments about, while Leslie Herlihy had burst into tears. Maysilee was the only one to maintain some composure, although I could tell that she was as angry as the rest of us. But this reaction was definitely extreme! Effie gave me a look that asked what should we do? I just gave her a shrug, as if to say what we can do? I thought it was best that we leave her alone until she had calmed down. We returned to the living room, to find Peeta in front of us.
"Is Katniss ok?"
OK seriously, what was WRONG with this boy? That's not to say that the odd tribute didn't show at least some concern for another, but this consistent much wasn't normal!
"She'll be OK," I told him, "She just needs a moment."
The boy looked in the direction of her room.
"Maybe I should talk to her-"
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"Trust me, boy, the best thing you can do right now is to give her some space."
Eventually he accepted my decision, and went back to the living room.
We didn't see the girl again until dinner time, when Effie decided to let her know. To my relief, the girl finally rejoined us. I could tell from her face that she had been crying, but was doing her best to conceal that.
After making small talk, eventually I asked the question.
"Alright, how were you?"
The boy told me how he threw around the weights until he was told to go.
"And what did you do, Sweetheart?"
"I shot an arrow at the game makers."
There was silence. She continued saying that she shot an arrow at the big at their banquet. So that's why she was so upset! She must have thought that by doing so she had messed up her chances in the arena, or that her family would be punished. I thought back to my own experience, and how I was tempted to throw my weapon at the game makers. If I was good with a bow and arrow, I probably would have shot at them myself, at one of the bottles they were holding in their hand before he had a chance to take another gulp. It was only my idea of throwing a mannequin to get their attention before stabbing it that stopped me from doing so. I don't think the use of an arrow would have had the same effect.
I assured her that it was no big deal, that they wouldn't arrest her as they can't replace her now, and that they wouldn't punish her family as they would need to make what happened in the session public, that the most they would do would make her life hell in the arena, which the boy mentions that they've already promised to do, and I agreed with him. The girl seemed to feel a lot better after that. I then started to chuckle, asking what their reactions were. She told me some were shocked, others terrified, or ridiculous, and that one of them fell into a punch bowl. I couldn't help but laugh. Honestly, I would have given anything to have seen the look on their faces! It made me wish I had used my weapon against them as well, but if I did that, then they would have probably set up some protection to prevent future tributes from doing the same, and the girl wouldn't have had the chance to do what she did!
After dinner, we went to the sitting room to watch the scores. The boy got an 8. That was good. The girl got an 11. An 11! The highest possible score given!
I thought back to my own score. Mat Rayburn got a 6. Which was okay. Then came mine. 10. A 10! I didn't think that any district 12 tribute had ever been given a 10 before, at least not in my lifetime! My score caused great excitement as everyone gathered around me, congratulating me.
"Way to go, Haymitch!"
Mat instantly came to my side, clapping my shoulder.
"I knew you could do it!" Said Maysilee.
"Well done," Said Leslie.
"Excellent work," Said Mrs Charm.
Everyone was so focused on me, that the girls almost missed their own scores. Leslie got a 3, whereas Maysilee shockingly got a 2. I expected her to at least get an 11, with how well she did with making snares or camouflaging. I guess they weren't paying attention. But the odd thing was that no one seemed to care about how low their scores were, or that I had a score higher than them, which made me a threat.
"Oh it's not like I actually thought that I was going to survive this thing," admitted Maysilee.
"Me neither," Said Leslie.
"But I'm glad that there is a chance that someone from District 12 can win!" Said Mat.
I looked around, at the beaming looks everyone was giving me. Huh. So this is what it was like to be popular. It was a somewhat unsettling feeling. But I started to take into heart what everyone was saying. For the first time since I was chosen, I was thinking, maybe I can survive this thing!
Maybe I do have a-
CLAP.
CLAP.
CLAP.
CLAP.
We all turned to the source of the clapping. Raybearta Wallace had entered the room. I don't think I've seen her since the first day on the train. There was something very disingenuous about the way she was clapping. It sounded almost – sarcastic?
"Well, well, well done, a 10. That's very - impressive."
I frowned.
"You don't sound impressed," I told her.
"Well it's certainly not an 11 or even a 12, but still it is a pretty high score."
"Yes, it is a very high score!"
Mrs Charm at once stood up and walked to where Raybearta was standing.
"A score that's generally only awarded to tributes from district 1, 2 and 4, wouldn't you agree, Ms Wallace?"
"Oh yes it's certainly in that range. I'm sure he'll make perfect competition for them. Before one of them slits his throat."
"Now now, Miss Wallace, there's no need to dishearten the boy!"
"I just don't want his mind to start running off with this idea that he actually has a chance! You think you're special, boy? Just because you're the first tribute in a long time to get a high score? Let me tell you something. You're not. Plenty of tributes in my day got 10s, as well as 8s and 9s, even an 11! And every one of them is dead! The game is rigged after all! The game is rigged," She muttered as she slowly turned around and walked back down the corridor to her room.
For the first time since I had been chosen, I actually had hope that I could survive, and it had been snuffed out.
I looked down the corridor.
By her!
My fists clenched.
"Now Mr Abernathy, you shouldn't take any notice to what Miss Wallace said- Mr Abernathy, where are you going?"
Getting up, I followed Raybearta down the corridor before she had a chance to disappear.
"JUST WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"
Stopping, she slowly turned around.
"Pardon?"
"The first time you show up after the first day, it's to tell me that I have no chance?"
"I'm just helping you to accept your inevitable demise."
Ugh. It was awful, having my own awful words thrown back at me. Smiling, she staggered towards me, swinging that bottle in her hand.
"What, did you actually think that you would be going home?"
How long had she been standing there, listening to our conversation?
"Not nice, is it? Having to hear your own words said to you?"
"Oh well you sure showed me, thank you so much for giving me a taste-"
Smashing her bottle against the wall, she pinned me to it and brought up the bottle to my neck, inches away from piercing the skin.
"If I was a tribute you would be dead right now! Tell me, boy, did your youth make any difference? Did your strength? Did your score?"
It was shocking how the look in her eyes, her expression had changed, one minute they weren't focused, and now they were. I could see from the deadly stare she was giving me that she could kill me right now if she wanted to! Eventually she let go. I slid to the floor, gasping for breath, grasping my neck. I looked up, seeing her looking down on me.
"If you could be killed by an old lady, then I don't see how you're supposed to survive against the careers. Do you know what the difference is, between you and them? They have been trained to kill from the moment they could hold a weapon. What have you been trained all your life to do?"
I struggled to stand up, still rubbing my neck.
"I – I can fight!"
"Please!" Raybearta laughed, "You might have sparred with your friend, but that is not the same as being professionally trained, to show no mercy to your opponent! This isn't your friend or an old drunk you'll be facing, these careers are young and strong and they have been trained to kill you."
She bent down so we were at eye level.
"Don't think for even one second that just because they gave you an equal score that's equal to them that you are their equal. Because you're not. You're not a lion. You are a house cat. But those 12 you'll be facing in the arena are lions, and sharks, and wolves, the rest of you are merely prey to them. But here's the thing; just because a rabbit is a wolf's natural prey it doesn't mean that every rabbit falls victim. Plenty of rabbits survive every year, and do you know how they do that? Because they know that they are no wolves."
"So what do you expect me to do? If I see the career pack, just run?"
"If you see someone who you know is stronger and more capable than you, and if you value your life, then yes."
"Well, that may be fine for most rabbits, but what happens if a rabbit is cornered by a wolf, what then?"
"Well it's a good thing they have those big teeth then!"
Raybeart turned and walked away again. I could still feel the burn around my neck.
"Crazy drunk bitch!"
Stopping again, she turned to look at me.
"Got a problem against crazy people, do you? Or drunks? As for bitches, well, you're hardly pleasant yourself."
"I have a problem with people who go off to enjoy themselves when there should be children to look after!"
"Take a sniff of that bottle."
She looked down at the other half of the bottle on the floor.
"Go on. Sniff it."
I did. After picking it up, avoiding the others shards I sniffed it. I almost wished I hadn't been so eager, because I almost passed out at the smell, moving it away from me.
"How can you drink this stuff?"
"Wrong question. You should be asking why."
"What?"
"No, not what, why. Why do I drink this stuff? Why does anyone drink? You've seen the other victors. Tell me boy, do they look happy to you? That they are enjoying themselves? And I'm not talking about the District 2 victors, or even 1, I'm talking about the non career victors, those who have not been bred to kill?"
I thought about it. Now that I thought about it, a lot of them looked ill and wasted, I guessed from the drugs they took, but I always assumed that was because they got sucked into the lifestyle of a celebrity.
"Maybe you should be a bit more sensitive towards drunks," Raybearta warned me, "Cos if you do survive this thing, then chances are, you'll become one yourself."
"No!"
That horrified me more than dying in the arena.
"No, I won't!"
"No? Then perhaps morphling will be your poison? Or maybe you won't need anything at all if you end up losing your mind in the arena? And if you do survive the years with your mind and your health intact, there is still another obstacle you'll have to face."
"And what's that?"
"Ever notice how the attractive victors always seem to have so many lovers, and how they don't last long, how they whore themselves out to the capitol elite. That's because they have, but not by choice, well it is, but it's not much of a choice. You see, they have been sold into prostitution, to the highest bidders, and a handsome boy like you, you'll have a fair price too."
"No," I shook my head, "I wouldn't-"
"You will. Because every time you say 'no', every time you refuse to go through, they will kill someone you care about."
Someone I cared about. I thought of Larie, and Ma, and Rachelle. And Mel. My thoughts drifted back to Rachelle, how it would feel if I was in the arms of another woman, that if I didn't she would die.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"All of you tributes are so eager to live, and so fearful if you don't, but maybe what you should be asking yourselves is if it will be worth living after this?"
I laughed.
"Is this the pep talk you give to all of your tributes?"
"What did you expect from a mentor, hmm? That I would tell you nice things? Give you grand, sage advice? Hold your hand throughout the whole thing?"
"I don't expect anything from you!"
"Liar, you expect everything from me. That's why you're so angry, that I'm neglectful so you're using your anger to numb your hurt feelings."
"Oh, you think you know me so well?"
"Of course I don't know you, Haymitch! Just as you don't know any of the other tributes! Do you actually think that any of those scores you saw are an actual reflection of their true abilities? Not everyone shows off what they are truly capable of."
"I – I know that-"
"Another lie, or did you think you were the only one clever enough to hide their own talents? Why do you even care what score they gave you? You already know what you're capable of, and you've seen what the careers can do. But after all, that's not the purpose of the scoring."
I already knew this.
"It's to attract sponsors."
"Smart boy. There is a brain in there, after all."
"So what you're saying is, the scores don't matter cos you're not gonna get us sponsors."
"No, I'm not."
"Because you don't care about us."
"Because I stopped caring. For twenty years, I did my best, trying to help you kids survive, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a single one of you a victor, not even my - that's something else you're gonna have to worry about if you survive. You'll be made a mentor, forced to help other kids survive. And one day, when it becomes so hard, that you can't take it any more, you'll think distancing yourselves from them will be easier."
"No. You're wrong. I won't become like you! I'll never give up on a tribute, no matter how many die!"
Raybearta smirked.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Haymitch. You make a habit of that, chances are you'll end up agreeing to almost anything, and keep your word to nothing."
She walked away.
"Thank you! Thank you so much for your grand wisdom!"
She raised what remained of her bottle as if to say "You're welcome."
When I returned to join the others, Mrs Charm told me that Miss Wallace was completely out of order for the things she said, and that she would have a word with her. I couldn't help thinking that maybe she had a point. Maybe I wasn't the careers' equal, just because my score was in the same range as theirs. And honestly, how did I get that score? Just by throwing a mannequin about and stabbing it in the neck. The game makers likely just gave me that score cos they thought I would make good competition against the careers. They didn't see what I was really capable of. No, they didn't see what I was truly capable of. They didn't see my knife throwing abilities, which I should have been graded on, which should have had a more worthy score! Suddenly I felt better. I do already know what I'm capable of, and how I would fare against the careers, and I didn't need the game makers to tell me that. As I thought of this as everyone was congratulating the boy and the girl, I knew what Ray would say. An 8 and an 11? Very impressive. You'd make good competition for the careers. But don't think for a moment that means you would win. However, I just congratulated them like the others. I did tell the girl that a factor in her high score was likely her temper and that they would like some tributes with some heat, but I said it in a way that it was uplifting rather than meaningless like what Ray did with me. Perhaps she was right about me when she said I was no lion.
Maybe I really am just a softie at heart.
The next day, Effie and I were discussing how to prepare the tributes for the interview the following one. We agreed that she would teach them presentation this morning, while I would teach them content the afternoon.
"You know," Effie smiled, "I actually missed this."
"Missed what?" I asked, puzzled.
"This. Us, working together. We used to be a good team. Didn't we, Haymitch?"
Did we? I couldn't remember. I do remember when she first joined though. Eula had introduced her as Euphemia Trinket, and that she would be taking over as escort next year, while this year she would be shadowing her. I remember her being all so professional, even though she preferred to be called 'Effie', holding out her hand to shake.
"I look forward to working with you, Mr Abernathy."
I couldn't help but grin.
"We'll see about that," I told her, betting that she wouldn't last the year, or the next without Eula. And yet here she still was.
Now that I thought about it, I guess we were, working together to help the tributes survive, devising a strategy for them. I remember after the end of the 59th hunger games, I asked her if she could get me the tapes of the first 29 games, which she was able to do.
"It's just that I have missed you-r partnership."
I felt like things were starting to become awkward.
"I've still been around, Effie."
"No you haven't! You've been off getting drunk somewhere, leaving me to deal with the tributes!"
I guess it wasn't just the tributes that I had abandoned. I had abandoned her as well. I still remember when that was. It was halfway through the 60th hunger games. The remaining District 12 survivor, Harper, had been caught in one of the game makers' traps underground, and he was trying to get out. He already had two close brushes with death. I was sure that he could get through this one. He was then vaporised. I felt like I had been vaporised alongside him. The canon boomed signifying his death, but I had already got up and left my booth in the control room.
"Haymitch? Haymitch, where are you going?" Effie asked.
But I wasn't listening. I entered my room in at headquarters, and cried out as I threw my bottle at the wall. Then I instantly regretted my decision, as I had nothing to drink, so I just cradled my head in my hands. Later I heard the door open, and I knew that it was Effie.
"It's okay, Haymitch, I know that this year was rather, um disappointing, but I'm sure we can learn from this and do better next year-"
"I can't do this anymore, Effie."
"What?"
"I can't do this anymore. I just can't do it!"
"Do what?"
"Mentoring, what do you think?"
"Well, you're going to have to. You're the District 12 mentor."
"I don't care! I'm done!"
"So what, you're just not going to try anymore? You're just going to go off get drunk or something?"
"That sounds like a plan."
"But who is supposed to help them?"
"Like I've been so helpful. She was from the town you know."
"I'm sorry?"
"Morian Crane. The girl this year. She was from the town. A daughter of the undertakers."
I was so sure that she could win. Yet a third way into the games, the stup id girl decided to undress and bathe in a lake she came across, unaware of the tribute from 2 coming up from behind her, and with her weapons discarded, she was helpless as she was hacked to pieces. It didn't help that that night I dreamt of going to the bathtub, and when I pulled the curtain aside I saw Morian there, screaming at me, terrified of me. As if I was the one who had killed her…
I chuckled.
"You know, it's been a while since a merchant kid was chosen. The last time this happened, and I tried to express sympathy to his family, do you know what his dad said to me? "You took such good care of Maysilee. So why couldn't you do the same for her cousin?" I've been banned from the sweet shop ever since. Guess I'll be banned from the undertakers too, now. I'll probably be thrown into a ditch somewhere."
"Haymitch," Effie took my hands, "Don't talk like that-"
"Well why not?" I pushed her hands away.
"Haymitch, there have been winners before. District 12 can win again."
"How? Remember when you sent me those tapes? I saw how District 12 used to fare. You know, Raybearta Wallace told me all about how the tributes in her day were great. I thought it was just one of those 'good old days' lines that old folk like to brag on about, but it's true! They were incredible! They were strong, smart, resourceful, and every one of them is dead!"
"She didn't. She survived."
"And how are we ever supposed to have another victor again if the tributes don't even fare compared to that generation?"
"You survived, Haymitch. If you can, then anyone can."
Yes. I survived. Because I did something that, had I known the consequences, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing.
"Effie, you should just go."
"What?"
"It's like you said. I'm stuck in this mentor role. But not you. You can still escape. So just go. Get away from the Hunger Games as far as you can, and don't look back, and …try to forget about all this."
At once Effie stood up.
"You may be willing to give up on these kids, but I'm not."
"Oh don't act like you actually care about us!"
Effie went pink.
"Maybe you would have a victor if you didn't get so drunk all the time!"
And at once she stormed out.
"I stayed sober. They died," I muttered, so why did it matter if I was drunk or not? Better to be drunk than sober. I ordered another bottle and to have the mess I made cleaned up.
Things between me and Effie were never the same again. This year was the first time in nearly fifteen when we had been amiable again.
The boy was the first to join us.
"Hey um, Haymitch, is it ok if I was to be coached separately?"
"Whatever for?" Effie asked, "Has something happened between you two?"
"No! No," Peeta shook his head, "It's just – I'd just prefer to be coached privately. If that's OK with you two. If it's not going to mess up the team image you want."
Effie and I looked at each other. She seemed more concerned than me. I didn't ask why the change of heart, as before he had no problem with being coached together. Perhaps as they were drawing nearer, he felt it was best to distance himself as much as possible from his fellow tribute, who would end up being his rival. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she gained a higher mark than him?
"I don't see how them being tutored privately should affect their public image, do you?"
"No."
"Okay, then boy, if that's what you want. So who do you want to go through first?"
"Oh, I think I'll take Katniss this afternoon."
Which left the boy to me. As we concluded this the girl walked in, noticing us huddled together, and asked why. I explained to her Peeta's sudden change of heart. As usual her expression was unreadable, but I had the feeling that she was unhappy about this. Which surprised me as I was sure she would be relieved to have some space from him after being forced together against her will. She almost seemed to feel…betrayed?
The boy was mine to tutor in the morning. It went well. Really well, in fact. The boy had a natural charm to him, plus he had this sense of humour that was hilarious. It's funny. During those hours, asking about his home life, I felt like I had connected with him. Far more than I did with any other tribute, heck any person for a long time. Then I had to remind myself not to get too attached, as there was still a chance that he would not make it.
"You know what, you're fine. You seem to have this covered."
I got up.
"Just do what you did with me and you'll be fine."
I turned to leave.
"Um, Haymitch?"
I looked at him.
"What?"
"There's something I need to ask you."
"Well spit it out."
Whatever it was, it seemed he had trouble talking about it. I wondered if this was why he wanted to be coached privately.
"During the interview, what do I say if they ask about my love life?"
Ah, that. I had asked this question before, asked him if he had a girlfriend, and he said no. I asked him if there was anyone he had a crush on, and he mentioned there was no girlfriend. I moved on after that point. But now that I thought about it Flickerman was sure to grill him over this fact if he didn't get a satisfactory answer.
"OK, let's back track a little."
I sat back down.
"Say I'm Caesar Flickerman. I asked you if you have a girlfriend, and you say…?"
"No, I don't."
"He's not going to believe that. 'Handsome boy like you' he'll say, 'there must be someone!' And he'll press you for a name."
"But there isn't!"
"Why?"
I was actually becoming curious myself. Good looking, confident boy, and a member of a merchant family. He could have any girl he wanted.
"You're just not into girls, I take it?" I grinned.
The boy understood what I was implying.
"What?" He seemed quite alarmed, "No, I do like girls!"
"But you've never asked one out? Or never took up on any of their offers?"
"It's just…"
I could tell that this was something personal to the boy.
"Look, boy, if you don't want to talk about your love life, then just make someone up. Something that will stop Flickerman from prying."
The boy seemed to be considering his options.
"Well, what if it's true?"
"What is what true?"
"What if there is someone I like…but I never had the chance tell her how I feel?"
Hmmm. Unrequited love? This would be something that would interest the capital. I could tell that this was something personal to the boy, something he didn't want to discuss in front of the girl.
But he wanted to discuss it with me?
"You never asked her?"
"I've been…too nervous to ask," He blushed.
I found this hard to believe. The boy has always given the impression of being able to speak with anyone, even those who would cheer to see him die in the arena. So why would this girl be a problem?
"Tell me about her," I asked.
I could tell that the boy was wary about talking about the subject.
"Look boy, this is definitely a question that Flickerman will be asking you. But like I said, make someone up if you don't want to talk about your actual crush."
"No. No. I do want to."
And so for the next he talked all about this incredible girl, someone he's had a crush on since he was five. Strong, beautiful, fearless. As he went on and on about her, I wondered who it was he could possibly be talking about. What girl in District 12 could possibly leave this boy tongue tied? Who could possibly be out of his league? My first thoughts drifted to the daughter of the mayor, but then I started thinking perhaps it's one of the female peacekeepers. Certainly from the way he described her she sounded like a peacekeeper. Yes, a peacekeeper would make sense, even more if it was an older woman.
"She sounds like quite a girl."
"She is!"
He started to laugh.
"You know, it's funny, until a few days ago, I didn't think she knew I exi-"
At once the boy stopped talking, as if he had given something away. A few days ago? What happened a few days ago? The only other person from home he's had contact with in the last few days was-
My jaw dropped. I looked in the direction of where the girl was, the girl that the boy was talking about, currently being tutored by Effie, and looked back at him incredulously. He had gone red.
Now it all made sense! Why he had covered for her, his concern for her, and why he would have risked a beating to give her a loaf of bread, and why he wanted to be coached separately all of a sudden! I should have seen it before, the way he complimented her on the first day, the small details about her he had noted.
The boy had a crush on his fellow tribute.
