Special thanks to jennagill, chele20035, and louezem for prereading and giving such great advice. You girls rock!
This chapter is a tribute to Peeta Mellark the wrestler.
Coach
Go Miners!
Pin 'Em
QUICK!
I hear my sister and the other girls on her squad cheering me from the edge of the mat. It's like they're in the distance though, more like background noise than a distraction.
I look up to the press box at the top of the bleachers. My mother and Haymitch sit together just below it, side by side. Haymitch has the look he usually wears, one of bemusement. But I can tell he's watching me closely. I wonder if this is what he was like when he mentored Mother and Father during their games? My mother is nervous, I can see her fidgeting. She wants to get up and move, but she knows she can't. She just stares down at me intently, her hands grasping the seat beneath her.
My father paces along the sideline, hands on his hips, looking down at the floor. He's wearing his khaki slacks and black shirt with District 12 Miners embroidered on the left hand side. No one has mined coal here since before the rebellion, but we are still stuck with that name. I suppose it could be worse, though. We could be the District 12 Medicinals, named after the medicine factory that employs most of the the district.
Back and forth he walks, like Buttercup the 3rd during a storm, just before the lightning cracks light up the sky and the thunder shakes the house. He is on full alert, in what my mother describes as "Coach Mode."
My father was a high school wrestler. One of the best in the district Mother always says. "He finished second place only to his older brother."
"Well, you know why I finished second though, right?" Father says, smiling at her.
"Sorry," Mother says in mock self-defense. "How was I to know that just because I cheered you on that you'd lose? I didn't even know you then!"
The story was family legend by the time I was old enough to wrestle. My sister and I used to love hearing stories about "Before", when Mother and Father were young, especially the happy ones. It is even in Mother and Father's Memory Book, right along with the other Mellark family stories.
Father and his brothers were the best wrestlers in District 12. Every year they tried to get into the same weight class so they could officially wrestle to prove which brother was best. Because of the age spread, Father never could compete with his oldest brother, but the middle and the oldest had their competition. Turns out my middle uncle won, which made him that much more determined to wrestle Father. The year before Father was reaped was the last year they could since my uncle would be eligible to leave school at the end of that year. Father knew that if he could beat his brother, he'd officially be crowned the best Mellark.
Both he and his brother trained hard to get into the same weight class, and by the end of the season, it paid off. The gym was set for the final competition of the year. The other weight classes would be competing, but everyone knew why the big crowd was gathered. It was to watch the two younger Mellark brothers.
The match was tied going into the third round. It was back and forth after that. One would have the advantage, then the other. On and on it went until, suddenly, from the back of the gym, Father heard her. "Come on Peeta! You can do it!" As soon as he heard her voice, the match was over. Father lost his concentration and his brother took advantage. He was pinned within seconds.
"I was just so happy that Katniss Everdeen, the girl I'd had a crush on since I was 5 years old, knew my name that I lost focus. At that point, I didn't even care." He always said with a smile.
"The last thing I wanted was for your brother to win." Mother would scowl. "Class pride and all. Plus, your brother was kind of a jerk."
Take him down!
Take him down!
Take him down, to the floor,
2! 2! 2 points more!
District 12 only has one high school, so we usually end up travelling to the other districts in order to have some decent competition. But since Mother isn't allowed to travel, she has never been able to watch me. That's why Father decided to host a tournament here in 12 once I started wrestling. Schools from 11, 7, and 4 are invited. I think he asks those schools because those are really the only districts he likes. District 11 because of the memories of Thresh and Rue, Districts 7 and 4 because Johanna and Annie and her son will come to visit as well.
My opponent for the finals is from District 4. This has caused some tension in the house. Annie's son is the coach for 4's swim team, so he came along as an acting assistant coach. All was fine until it became obvious I would be going up against his wrestler in the finals.
"Well, you're going to have your work cut out," he told me yesterday morning over bacon and eggs. "Our guy is fit, and he's tough. I don't know if you're a real match for him."
Mother took exception to this. She may not have wanted me to wrestle, but no one is as fierce and loyal as Mother. "I'm sorry. Did you imply my son can't handle your competition? May I remind you who his parents are? The Victors from District 12? The Mockingjay? His father is a POW and war veteran?" Mother doesn't bring her past up much, but when she does, she makes sure she uses it to intimidate whoever she is speaking too. "And Jo herself has given him tips. Do you know how I know she knows how to wrestle? I saw her. While we were preparing for the Quarter Quell. The 75th Hunger Games that is."
"No! No! I didn't mean to imply that at all!" he sputters, backpedaling, and looking more abashed than usual.
"Good. Because my son is just as tough as any pampered kid from District 4. My son has earned everything he has. Nothing was given to him on a silver platter."
Breakfast was fairly quiet after that, and I noticed he didn't come back until late last night. He claims the team meeting went long, but I really think he didn't want to face Mother after that.
Show 'em!
How to wrestle!
Show 'em how to wrestle,
Twist 'em like a pretzel!
Mother never really wanted Father to coach wrestling. She said it reminded her too much of "Before", too much of what used to be.
"I know Katniss," he told her one evening when we were younger. "I understand that. But doing this? It's almost like I have my brothers again. Sometimes when I'm there with the kids, I think I can see them, standing off to the side watching. I miss them, and doing this reminds me of that. Can you understand that? Can you accept that for me?"
"Of course I can," she said, a little sadly. "I get it, I do. And when you put it that way, I do understand."
But even though Mother was resigned to Father coaching, it still bothered her when I decided I wanted to wrestle. "Seeing another blond Mellark wrestle? I don't know."
But wrestling was something I wanted to do. In a way I felt like I was carrying on a family tradition. "It's like I have a connection to this family I never knew," I told her one day.
"Fine. If that's what you want to do, I won't stop you," she told me. "But don't come to me when the going gets tough. You think you know your father," she laughed then and wandered off, leaving me a bit terrified with that last comment.
I had been around the gym when I was younger, watching Father interact with his wrestlers. I thought I was so important because all of the older boys would smile at me and rub my head for good luck. Little did I realize, however, what Father was like as a coach, what he would be like as my coach.
"He's so hard on me!" I complained one evening to Mother and Haymitch as we were sitting on the porch after dinner.
"And that surprises you?" Haymitch laughed at me. "If I remember correctly, your mother tried to talk to you out of it."
"Yeah, but I didn't think he'd be this tough!" I whined back. Haymitch never was one for sympathy.
"Good thing you weren't training for the Quarter Quell with us then, son!" he chuckled. "Your mother and I…"
"Haymitch!" Mother glared at him. "Enough. Now."
"Oh fine then. Just listen up boy, everything your father is doing is to make you tougher. Just work with it, ok?"
"Yeah...OK." I huffed, then got up and went to my room. I needed a break from everyone at that point.
Roll 'em over!
Lay 'em flat!
Roll 'em over,
Lay 'em flat,
Pin the shoulders,
To the mat!
It comes down to this. The final period of the match. If I win this, I win my weight class for the tournament, and have a good chance of getting an invitation to compete in the all-Panem games, one of the highest honors for wrestlers. Up until now, my opponent from District 4 and I are tied. Because I chose top for the second round, I'm on the bottom for the final.
I'm focussed. My hunter senses are on full alert. I've gone through all of the breathing techniques Father taught me, and I use the self-talk Mother taught. "I am in control. I can do this. I've got this."
Father is sitting on the bench now, staring intensely at me, and I can hear my sister yelling in the background, "You've got this! You can do it!"
But then it happens. From high up in the stands, in the press box, I hear her voice.
"If you can't beat him, hurt him!"
And that's when I lose it, even before we begin. I start to laugh. The referee blows the whistle, and in that moment of lapsed concentration, my opponent takes full advantage. He's pinned me before I even realize what's happened. I can't help but laugh. I get up and look around the gym. Everyone seems to be in a state of shock. Everyone but my family.
Father sits on the bench, head in his hands. His body shakes up and down, but since he won't look up, I can't tell if he's laughing or crying.
My sister is laughing though. Laughing uncontrollably over at the end of the mat. Her friends look at her oddly, but it's obvious she can't help it.
Haymitch is laughing too. Guffawing is more like it. If there were room, he'd be rolling around.
Mother isn't laughing though. She's standing there, with a horrified look on her face, hands over her mouth.
And it's then, in that instant, that everyone in the family knows what has happened.
Katniss Everdeen has caused yet another Mellark wrestler to lose the most important match of his young life.