The Unexpected Tribute
Chapter 4
by Technomad
Peeta Mellark
The Capitol, when we got there, was as gaudy as I remembered. We de-trained to find ourselves being greeted by a cheering crowd. We'd been wildly popular after our unexpected triumph last year, and people were chanting our names as we got into our transportation to our hotel. Katiniss was being her usual glum self, until Haymitch whispered something to her, at which point she plastered on a grin that looked about as phony as a plastic toy pickaxe. However, our admirers weren't close by, and didn't know her that well, so apparently it looked genuine; they cheered us even louder. I forced a grin of my own and waved back at them, as I "herded" my tributes (and isn't that something weird for me to write?) toward our waiting car.
Our quarters were just as luxurious as the last time, although as a mentor, I got different treatment from "my" tributes. I unpacked my overnight bag, pulled out some sleepwear, and wandered out into the common area of our suite to see what the others were up to. Katniss was sitting, staring at the videoscreen without really taking in the show, and I asked her where Haymitch was.
"He went out for a while," Katniss said, her voice a monotone. "He said he wanted to meet some of his old friends." I nodded. I figured he was probably networking, both with the other Tributes we'd be facing, and with the other mentors. I should have been out learning to do that at his side, along with Katniss, but I was tired, and I knew there'd be time to meet the other mentors while "my" Tributes were off with their prep teams. I sat down beside Katniss and tried to make sense of the show, a sort of game where people apparently competed to see who could make the biggest fool of themselves in return for a prize. I wished the Hunger Games were like that, instead of the deadly bloodbath that they were.
To my surprise, when Haymitch came in a couple of hours later, he was stone sober and clear-eyed. Katniss had nodded off, and I'd nearly gone to sleep myself, with her head on my shoulder. She wasn't wearing any perfume, but I liked the clean healthy girl smell of her skin and hair. Haymitch grinned and winked at me as he sat down in a chair nearby. Carefully, I untangled myself from Katniss and moved over closer so we could talk without waking her up. I knew she hadn't slept well on the train, and she needed her shut-eye.
"So, who did you see?" I asked, my voice low. Behind me, Katniss stirred, but didn't wake up.
Haymitch leaned forward, so we could talk as privately as was possible in this place. "Johanna Mason and Finnick Odare. Districts Seven and Four. They're both going back into the Arena, like me. I've known them both since they first became mentors. We caught up on some old times."
"I bet they were surprised to see you sober," I couldn't resist commenting. Haymitch gave me a look, and then quirked a grin. For a second, I could see the darkly-handsome Seam boy he'd been so long ago, before his Reaping.
"Oh, they were," Haymitch admitted. "Even for us mentors, I'm known for how much I love the bottle. However, they understood that this time of all times, I need a clear head and all my wits about me." Then he gave me a serious look. "I need those more than you probably realize."
We shared a conspiratorial look. For all that I was now, nominally at least, a mentor, and he was a Tribute again, we shared one goal: Keep Katniss Everdeen alive, at all possible costs. Haymitch was still, in all of the main ways, our mentor, and I knew that he figured that he'd taken a shortcut on half his job by volunteering in my place, even though it was almost certain suicide. In the Arena, he would do all he could to protect Katniss. For a second, I had to look away as tears welled up in my eyes. There was no way I could ever thank him adequately.
Haymitch saw what was going on. A lot of people at home just think of him as a sloppy drunk, but he's actually very perceptive. "Hey, kid, don't feel bad about me," he said, his voice low. "I've had a longer run than I had any right to expect, after all. And seeing you two spit in the Capitol's eye was worth a lot to me." He grinned. "I bet that when that went on the screens back home everybody was cheering their heads off!"
I nodded, unable to speak. I'd been told that when the word came down that we were joint winners of the Games, people ran out of their houses all over District 12, dancing in the streets while everybody with a musical instrument contributed to the festivities. White liquor sold out almost instantly at the Hob, and the people who made the stuff brought out their hidden stores, passing them around without asking for payment. My brother had danced with Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter, while beside them Gale Hawthorne whirled Prim Everdeen around while she shrieked with joy. Mrs. Everdeen was crying in my father's arms while he cried on her shoulder. I wished I could have been there for that party, although the one they threw when we came home was nearly as nice. Seeing my mother kissing Haymitch Abernathy on the mouth was something I'd never expected to see, and from Haymitch's startled expression, not something he'd ever expected to happen. Or ever wanted to have happen again.
Haymitch rose, patting my arm. "Come on. Get Katniss up, and let's all get some sleep. We've all got to be on top form tomorrow." He grinned again. "I can't wait to meet my prep team!" As I prodded Katniss awake enough to steer her off to her bed, I couldn't help but smile at the thought of the job of work that Haymitch's prep team had ahead of them. Compared to their usual victims, er, I mean, subjects, he'd be a real challenge. And so would a lot of the older Tributes.
When I awoke, I found that Katniss had crawled in with me at some point or other. I poked her in the ribs, and she mumbled "Le'me alone a minute more, Prim…" before remembering everything and snapping awake, her eyes wide. "Peeta!" She blushed bright red. "Uh, I awoke and realized I was all alone…I'm not really used to sleeping alone."
I smiled at her. "Yeah, I can imagine. I'm sorry you aren't back at home with Prim right this minute." Her expression went somber, and I could tell that she was imagining how Prim must be feeling. "I wouldn't mind being at home myself," I said. "Except that there I wouldn't have you, would I?"
She gave me an unreadable look. "You never know," she answered. She got up, and I enjoyed the sight of her in her nightwear, modest though it was. "Come on. I've got to get ready for the prep team, and you've got networking to do…mentor." Reminded of unpleasant realities, I got up, and went to my bathroom to freshen up as Katniss slipped out back to her own room.
When I was ready to face the world, I came out to find that our Avox servants had prepared a magnificent breakfast for us. Looking at it, I remembered all the people back in District 12 who didn't have enough to eat, and felt guilty for a moment. Then I remembered that two of the three diners there today were going to go back into the Arena, to almost certain death, and sat down after helping Katniss with her chair and winning a smile from Haymitch. When Effie came in, Haymitch got up and did the same for her.
"Well!" Effie was trying to carry off her usual act, but I could see that it was harder than usual. "Here we all are, together again!" She picked up her glass and filled it; I noted approvingly that she was drinking coffee, not white liquor. Haymitch was drinking orange juice, and I followed his example, as did Katniss. We'd never had orange juice before our first trip to the Capitol, and I wondered which District it came from.
"What do I do now, Haymitch?" I asked. If we'd been from other Districts, we'd have had more mentors than just the one, but Haymitch was the only mentor District 12 had…and he'd not be along that day, since the prep teams were due in after breakfast to get Haymitch and Katniss ready for the Tributes' Parade. I'd be dealing with the other mentors, who were all strangers to me.
Haymitch bit into a sticky bun. Once he'd finished chewing his bite, he gave me a quizzical look. "Every year, there are new mentors. The old hands will take you in hand, they all know what it's like. Like I told you after you came home last year, you're now a member for life of the most exclusive club in Panem. They'll coach you through what you need to know."
I was somewhat reassured, but still, I'd have given a lot to have Haymitch with me when the prep teams came to lead Haymitch and Katniss off to be transformed. When they'd gone, a strange man peeked in, smiling when our eyes met. "Hello! I'm Fritz Baum, from District Seven. Want to come and meet your fellow Mentors?" He winked. "Don't worry. None of us bite." After a moment's pause, he went on: "Can't say the same of all of this year's Tributes, though."
I didn't know what he meant at first, but after I got to the Mentors' Lounge, I found out. The people lounging around were of all ages, from late teens in one or two cases on up to fairly old. They were looking at a video of a fierce-looking girl grinning around with her teeth filed down to points. I gave Fritz a questioning look.
"That's Enobaria, from District Two. She won her Games by biting out the throat of the last one in the Arena with her, and after that, she had her teeth filed down to points by a Capitol dentist." Looking at her, I shuddered slightly. She looked utterly mad to me, and I was suddenly very glad not to be facing her in the Arena.
"This the new guy?" That was a very attractive blonde woman, sitting off in one of the corners with a book. When I looked at her more closely, I noticed that one of her hands was artificial, just like my foot. She looked me up and down, like I was something in the market. "You're Peeta Mellark, aren't you?"
"Sure am," I said, mountain manners kicking in. "And you are…?"
"Esmeralda. Esmeralda Smith, from District One. I'm mentoring Cashmere and Gloss." I nodded. I knew who Cashmere and Gloss were. They were siblings, a brother and sister, who had won back-to-back Hunger Games a few years ago. A lot of boys I knew had had their first crushes on Cashmere. I was too fixated on Katniss to follow their example, but she had invaded my nighttime dreams on occasion. And Katniss had told me that quite a few girls in District Twelve would have been delighted if Gloss had swooped down and carried them off, whether for a night of fun or for always.
I suddenly felt curious. I'd had little or nothing to do with the other Districts; when Katniss and I had gone on our Victory Tour, we'd had almost no contact with the people who'd been dragged in to see us. An image flashed before my eyes for a second; it was Glimmer's parents, standing there looking at me like I was a ghost or something as I recited my canned speech. Even though there was nothing I could have done to save their daughter, I couldn't have blamed them for hating me and Katniss. I sat down with Esmeralda. "So, what do you do in District One, anyway?"
"We make luxury goods, for the Capitol. The jewelry people wear here, ornaments, things like that." She gave me a rueful grin. "Nothing essential to life, like your coal, I'm afraid. We have a reputation for being rather frivolous."
Not in the Arena, I thought to myself, but kept that thought private. District One had had many Victors over the years, and, looking around the room, I noticed others with the same general look as Esmeralda. Since the setting up of the Districts, each has tended to develop a "look" of its own, like we have in District 12, with the "Seam look"-dark hair, grey eyes. It's by no means universal (I'm an exception myself, after all) but if you've been to the Districts, it's often not hard to pick out a particular District resident's District from how they look.
Other mentors came over, introducing themselves. I soon lost track of names, and Esmeralda grinned at me. "Don't sweat it. It can be a little overwhelming at first. You'll soon get to know everybody. We see each other every year, and, as Haymitch likes to say, this is the most exclusive club in Panem." A shadow passed over her face. "That said, it's not going to be the same without Haymitch. And Johanna. Those two could snark at each other for hours, and it was always hilarious to listen to."
"Yeah, they were a hoot," another mentor said. With his dark skin, I could see that he was from District Eleven. I wondered if he were kin to Rue, Katniss' friend and ally. He saw me watching him. "I don't know if you caught my name earlier, but in case you didn't, I'm Timothy from District Eleven."
"I figured out you were from District Eleven already," I said. Timothy laughed, a deep rumble.
"Yeah, we're pretty distinctive, aren't we? I won the Sixty-Ninth Games, years ago. Since then, except for this yearly ordeal, I've got to say I've had a fairly easy life." A shadow passed across his face for a second. "But oh, the price I had to pay for it!"
For a second, the room went silent. We in that room were probably the most privileged people in Panem, at least outside of the Capitol elite itself. Our lives contrast hugely with the day-to-day lives of our neighbors and relatives in the Districts, but we pay for them in ways I have too much compassion to wish on anybody else. Even most of the Capitol people.
I'd talked some with Effie Trinket, and what she had told me about life in the Capitol made me hate the average Capitol citizen a lot less. She knew very little about day-to-day life in the Districts, or where the food she ate, the clothes she wore, and the things she used actually came from, but if she was telling the truth (and she had no reason to lie as far as I could tell) compared to the average Capitol citizen, she was well-informed and very knowledgable about how the world worked.
I'd been shocked when I found out that Effie didn't know that coal was mined underground, and she'd been horrified to find out that that was the case. Effie, it turned out, was mildly claustrophobic, and the thought of going down a typical coal shaft gave her the screaming jitters. Even if she'd been born there, she wouldn't have done well in District 12.
My fellow mentors and I spent the next few hours comparing notes on what our Districts did. I have to say, it was an educational experience. There's a lot more to the Panem economy than I would have thought back before my first Reaping.
The other mentors ranged in age to just a little older than I was, on up to old age. Quite a few of them had scars, or even missing parts here and there. one thing you can not avoid in the Hunger Games is injury, and even the Capitol's doctors can't help you if the injury occurs early enough in the Games for them not to be able to get to it in time. I noticed several eyepatches, a ragged stump of an ear, and a couple of artificial hands, as well as missing fingers and suggestive scars on the parts of them not covered with clothing. For a second, I remembered my artificial foot. Normally, I don't think about it much. It's just become part of my morning routine. Get up, yawn, roll over, sit up, put on my foot, stand up and march off to face another day. It works really well, I have to say. Once it's in place, it's almost as though I never lost that foot, except that I don't feel it.
One of the mentors, a man about Haymitch's age, smiled at me and said: "You know, having Haymitch back in the games made some people here in the Capitol really unhappy." Everybody smiled at that, but it wasn't very pleasant smiles.
"Who? You mean President Snow?" I knew that Panem's President had been furious about us both surviving the Seventy-Fourth Games, and had even visited District Twelve to try to frighten Katniss. I must say, finding that man in my house would frighten me. On the surface, he looked like every picture of a benevolent grandfather I've ever seen, but I'd seen him up close, when he put the crown of victory on my head and Katniss', and I'd seen straight into his eyes. I'd seen kinder eyes on a rattlesnake that I'd found coiled up on our front porch one morning.
I thought of President Snow as an outer disguise worn by something not human. Something predatory and alien, something with an eternal, insatiable hunger driving it on. I would no sooner trust him than I would deliberately eat poison.
"No, it isn't President Snow, although rumor has it he really wasn't happy about the end of your Games," Fritz assured me. "The people he's talking about are the bookmakers."
"Bookmakers? You mean people who publish or print books?" Everybody else laughed, but gently. I could tell that they thought I was awfully naïve.
"What he means is the people who 'make book,' sweetie," Esmeralda explained. "They manage the betting on sporting events, elections…and the Hunger Games." She leaned back, and suddenly reminded me of a teacher I'd had in school. She was much younger and more attractive than the teacher (not that that would be difficult) but they used the same gestures. I wondered if she taught school back in District One, and what she taught, if anything.
"When the rules of the Quarter Quell were announced," she went on, warming to her subject, "everybody assumed that you would be competing alongside Katniss. So that was how the bookmakers figured their odds. Nobody expected Haymitch to volunteer. Even we didn't, and we probably know him better than anybody."
Suddenly, a blare from the television interrupted our colloquy. "Heads up! The Tribute Parade is about to begin!" someone called out. As the first notes of "The Horn of Plenty" rolled from the speakers, we, like everybody else in Panem (who didn't want to become an Avox, or worse) stood to attention and sang along. Our singing was tinged with a note of irony, but we sang along, and that was all that was required.
I have to admit, I'd have loved to see Haymitch's expression when he was put into the "man on fire" costume. It had been a shock to me when I'd first seen it, but I had to admit, watching it on replays, it looked striking.
END Chapter 4