So, I FINALLY finished this chapter, overcoming the obstacles of writer's block, APs, and the Hunger Games movie (I've seen it in its entirety about four times, but I've watched all the clips people videotaped many, many times.) It's over 3000 words, my longest yet, so I hope that kind of makes up for it.
Update: I posted the unfinished version on Saturday, so here is the newest version. If you read this chapter before 5-14-12, then you might want to read the last couple paragraphs again. I should have checked to make sure I had the right version before I posted it, I'm sorry. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the reviews. They make my day!
Anyway, you probably don't care about the AN, Let Chapter 10 begin!
Peeta's POV
I look from Katniss to Gale and a twinge of uneasiness begins to register on my face. None of my efforts had roused her, I spent two days almost continually at her side but she remained unresponsive. Even with the medicine, she was still silent. However, the minute Gale wakes in the door, she is running straight into his arms. I quickly push the thoughts to the side and reach over and hug Lysimachia. "I'm glad you're home lovebug!" Katniss shifts her stance uncomfortably, looking from me to Gale. She smiles faintly, acknowledging my presence. Suddenly the side door swings open and I turn, wondering who would have the audacity to saunter into our house without invitation. Slow footsteps make their way into the living room and stop at the entrance to the foyer. Our visitor looks from Gale to me, then smirks at Katniss, "More boy trouble, eh sweetheart?"
"Haymitch!" Katniss growls as she lunges for him, but her lunge is interrupted by a persistent tapping at the front door. Katniss gives one parting glare to Haymitch then opens the door.
"Haymitch! I told you we should have knocked at the front door, they were busy. Hello Katniss dear!" She beams brightly at Katniss for a second, then continues to scold Haymitch: "And furthermore, you forgot to put on your jacket, you know that in order to go out visiting you should look presentable."
"Hello Effie, how nice of you to drop in!" I cut in. She smiles approvingly at me, happy to have someone who is observing proper manners. I reach out to shake her hand, but instead of taking it she wraps her arms around me quickly. Then she abruptly steps back, "Peeta, I'm very glad to see you." She lets out a half-hearted laugh to cover up the sob caught in her throat. She is always emotional after she comes back from her visits to 8 where she directs clothing production. Katniss turns to her; "Yes Effie, we werebusy. Come into the living room, the kids have some explaining to do." and she gives a pointed look to Lysimachia, who is responsible for the presence of the Hawthornes.
Lysimachia's POV
I nervously meet Mom's eyes. She is not happy with me, despite the fact that she obviously wanted Mr. Hawthorne here. She probably won't yell at me with Nana and Grandpa here but you never know, Mom is pretty mad now. She is trying to maintain her composure, although her face has already betrayed her obvious frustration with Nana and Grandpa's unexpected visit and the visitors that I dragged in.
I realize to stay out of trouble, I must keep Nana here as long as possible. Mom rarely loses her cool around her and I'm sure she would back me up; she does regardless of my behavior. It is nice to have a grandparent who spoils you, even if she only comes every so often and isn't blood-related. I beam at her and run into her arms. "I'm so glad to see you Nana!" : I gush. it isn't entirely manipulative because I really am glad to see her. She hugs me back, completely oblivious to the tension in the room. She lets out light, breathy laugh. Well, maybe she does feel the tension after all.
I take her hand in mine and guide her to her favorite chair in the living room. It has a tall back with a deep plush seat, covered in cobalt velvet. The little mahogany feet are carved to look like flowers, the petals delicately resting on the floor and the stalks winding up to the seat.
She gently slides into the chair, taking great care to preserve the velvet. I warily sit on the couch next to Grandpa. I'm sure that if worst comes to worst, I could always find a way to direct her anger towards me at him. It wouldn't be that hard since she is already restraining herself from making some choice remarks.
I'm not usually one to scheme, but with Mom you have to be wary. So, I sit on the couch and wait for the ensuing interrogation.
Then I run through why I'm in trouble. What have I done? The only thing I did that I see as wrong was touching Dad's old videos, but I don't understand how Mom found out so soon.
When we are all situated on our respective seats, Dad begins to talk.
"Lysimachia, would you like to explain where you were the whole afternoon?"
"And explain your guests?" Mom adds.
I sit up straighter and I begin: "Well, this is Mr. Hawthorne and his son, Corren. I was at their house. Gram took me." I refrain from adding the part about the video, just in case they don't know yet.
"You weren't feeling so well and Peeta was busy and I was in a tricky situation." She pauses, filling the room with silence.
"They were fooling around on the TV and they saw your reaping." Thanks a lot, Gram! Now we are sure to get in trouble, for her words have struck every person in the room into silence. Everyone seems to know what that means. Within minutes every eye is on me.
"I'm sorry, I was just doing History homework!" I defend myself, looking pleadingly at Dad, whose face has darkened.
"I told you to hold off on that, why didn't you listen?" He demands harshly.
"Well that's that!" Grandpa sighs and slouches further down on the couch beside me.
"You're little flowers have been defiled, now you have to tell them."
Mom, recovering from her shock, turns from gaping at me, to glaring at Grandpa. I must say I prefer that infinitely better. Who knew we would have caused this much trouble. I reach out beside me and pat Lich's arm to comfort him and to remind him that this was partially his idea, so he should take some credit for it.
Gram get up: "Katniss, I don't think you're in any condition to talk right now, just let them watch the tape. I'll cook dinner while Haymitch, Effie, and Gale answer questions. I'll write a note for school so they won't get in trouble for not doing their homework. Does that work dear?"
"Alright." Mom relents and sighs. She suddenly hugs me so harshly I'm afraid I will suffocate. Just as quickly, she lets go and turns to Dad, looking for reassurance. He gives her a bright smile, then he turns to the kitchen to prepare dinner with Gram.
Gram ushers us through the door and into the library then turns back to the kitchen. Mr. Hawthorne allows us to sit before popping in the disk and starting the flow of answers that by now I'm dying to know.
I'm sitting with my back against the recliner with Lich on my left and Corren on my right. "Corren, I guess this is a good time as any to explain my childhood." He begins. "I was very close to Mrs.-Katniss. We were best friends. We supported each other and we were never confused about our relationship. Well, at least she wasn't. But that all changed after the Hunger Games. you'll understand once you see this. To catch you up Corren, Katniss's younger sister was picked, then she volunteered. Mr. Mellark was reaped as well. I considered volunteering, but I knew that I had to take care of her sister Prim." His face is twisted into a pained expression and his breathing becomes ragged. "I knew she would never forgive me if I did volunteer and left Prim helpless." For I minute, I think he will cry but he doesn't, he just starts the video.
Mr. Hawthorne speeds through the reapings and quickly stops it at the sight of a large avenue with large rows of seats on either side. The seats are filled with a neon rainbow of 'lucky' Capitol citizens who had enough money to buy tickets. The Hunger Games were a great source of revenue of the government, as well as a means of control over the outlying districts. Maybe History class is good for something after all.
A row of chariots ride slowly down the avenue, giving the tributes time to capture the hearts of the spectators. The first chariot's tributes are decked out in fuchsia and silver outfits, a silver suit with fuchsia lining for the boy, a fuchsia dress with metallic silver accents for the girl.
The next pair are dressed like ancient gods, decked in gold armor. I watch the tributes behavior. You would think that while standing in a moving chariot, there's not much you can do, but all the teenagers are working some angle. There are the careers who do everything short of falling out of the chariot to gain the audience's favor. District 2's tributes are playing it strong with crossed arms, confident smirks, and the occasional wave.
The chariots flash by but none of them are as impressive as Districts 1 and 2. Finally, we have reached the end and 11 is slowly riding out into the avenue. The tributes are complete opposites. The boy is nearly twice the height of the girl and his face is set in a fierce scowl. Perhaps, he is attempting to be a career. The girl is a small wisp of a girl; she shivers in her baggy overalls as the camera passes over her. District 11 goes a bit faster now, all the fun is over. Then the last chariot turns the corner into the avenue: District 12. I look eagerly to see what Mom and Dad are wearing, then I gasp. They are on fire! My throat tightens, but I remember that they must have made it out alive because they are both alive today.
As I look closer, I see the shine of the black unitards and the way the fake flames blast without the gentleness and coloring of real fire. The orange is too bright to be real, and the flame flickers spastically, too quickly to be really affected by shifting levels of oxygen. I sigh in relief, until I realize the worst is yet to come: they are going to have to kill people. I'm sure that some tribute tried to kill them as well, you just can't escape that in the arena. I gulp in anticipation.
Then the screen turns purple. Wait, not completely purple, I can just make out a man in the middle. Then the purple lights dim and I see that he is wearing a shimmering blue suit and standing on a stage surrounded by flashing boards. I'm surprised he didn't dye his skin blue, he is that covered in varying shades of sparkling blue. That how the Capitol was, alway bright and flamboyant as my teacher would say acting as if it has been hundreds of years when its only been about 30. The man's blue hair must be covered in some sort of sparkly powder because it shimmers under the lights as he raises his microphone and exclaims: "Welcome, welcome, welcome to the 74th Hunger Games!" The camera pans over the sea of assorted hats and wigs then zooms in on a couple of faces. But of course, this video is only three hours long and is has to cover over two weeks of events, so immediately they cut to the announcer again: "From District 12, you know her as the girl on fire. But we know her as the lovely Katniss Everdeen!"
And with that, a young girl in a flowing red dress stumbles onto the stage. "I forgot about that step, I should have warned her in her heels and all..." Nana murmurs. I'm confused until I realize that she wasn't Mrs. Mellark forever, she had another last name once, long ago. It doesn't sound right to me though, Katniss Mellark sounds infinitely better than Katniss Everdeen.
I gasp at the screen as I take in her appearance. This can't be my mother. Her hair, dress, and make-up have been beautifully done, something which I never get to see on her anymore. And what makes it more strange is that she is nervous. My mother is never nervous. Uncomfortable yes, but never nervous, never afraid to say what she thinks.
She repeatedly attempts to wipe her hands on her dress but they slide off the slick fabric. Through the whole interview she keeps a huge smile on her face, especially while talking about her dress. She twirls several times at the interviewer's request and it appears as if her dress is going up in flames. The effect is amazing. "Took her forever to get that smile down." mutters Grandpa. When she finally gets dizzy she begins to giggle as she steadies herself with the help of the blue interviewer. This is nothing like my mother. My mind cannot connect this giggly young teenager with my middle-aged mother who rarely smiles so broadly now.
The screen zooms out from her dress and pans to the blue guy. It focuses on his exaggerated laugh for a minute, then pans out to reveal a young man, decked in a black suit with sparkling red accents. He smiles a winning smile, and instantly I recognize him. My father still smiles like that. The blue guy yells "Peeta, peeta, welcome!" as the cheers subside. Then the interview commences, the music in the background blurs the words as the camera switches from shots of Dad to shots of Mom. The music begins to fade and I can make out the blue guy's voice again: "So, Peeta, tell me is there a special girl back home?"
"Well, uh, there is this one girl that I've had a crush on forever, but I don't think she actually recognized me till the reaping."
"I'll tell you what Peeta, you go out there, and you win this thing. And when you get home, she'll have to go out with you. Right folks?" His proposition is met with loud approval, which soon quiets as Dad begins to answer.
"Thanks but I, uh, I don't think winnings gonna help me at all."
"And why not?"
He sighs then responds slowly: "Because she came here with me."
The cameras find my blushing mother and I smile. I didn't realize they liked each other when they were teenagers. But then I realize where they are going. I think back to class: "The last tribute alive would be crowned victor", meaning all the others would be dead. But they are both alive today, what happened? I look in confusion to Grandpa, but he just smirks and nods toward the TV where the camera is sweeping the arena.
The tributes rise from the ground and the announcer begins the countdown. I look to see what he is counting down for, but then I realize that all the tributes are preparing to run. They must be required to wait. I look for Mom and there she is set to run into the center. The camera flashes to where Dad is set to run to the surrounding woods. Doesn't he want to be with Mom? I look to Mr. Hawthorne to explain. He stops the tape, but Grandpa objects: "Oh, she'll figure it out eventually, just keep going."
Mr. Hawthorne ignores him and begins to explain: "The tributes from District 1, 2, and sometimes 4 were privileged and had been trained their entire lives. Other, inexperienced tributes would do well to stay away from them. Katniss was taking a risk by setting up to run to the Cornucopia in the center. The reason she did was because of the bow there. He winds the tape back and zooms in on a silver bow and a sheath of a dozen or so arrows. All clear?"
"I guess so..." I trail off, and he plays the tape again.
A bell or something echoes through the arena and all the tributes fly off their starting points, some to the woods, some to the cornucopia thing. Mom flounders for a minute, her resolve gone. Then she runs across the circle and grabs a backpack, pushing it in front of her head to catch a knife flying straight toward her brain. She is sprinting to the woods, now and the cameras leave her to focus on Dad. He has emerged from the woods with a look of determination. He runs into the fray surrounding the big metal 'cornucopia'. He grabs a knife and looks up to size up his opponents. A small boy begins to run towards him. Dad grips his knife and wards off the small boy's swing. The boy wields his axe again, but the handle is long and thin and the end weighted. I know with a sickening feeling in my gut that this small red-haired boy has no chance. As Dad's knife plunges into the boys unprotected side, I focus on the boy's curly head as it falls the ground lifeless. His eyes, a mix of green and blue, flicker with confusion, pain, and fear as the realization sinks in. Then they are blank as he lies there, dead on the ground. The battle around him over now, the trained tributes are looking at Dad in approval.
The big one, the one who was dressed like an ancient god in the chariot, walks over and offers his hand. Dad takes it, hesitantly at first, then firmly shakes it. "You're in." he says as he nods approvingly at Dad. "Help gather the supplies."
I watch Dad collecting the variety of things in the cornucopia. Then music plays and the victims of the day flash on the screen with their killers in the corner. When the last picture comes up, I close my eyes, not wanting to see those eyes again. Then the announcer kick in with upbeat music: "Well that's it for today folks! Be sure to tune in tomorrow, when you will see our girl on fire make her first kill; Let's see a sneak peek shall we?"
Then I see Mom hanging on a tree branch, sawing off a thin limb. On the edge of the limb is a nest buzzing with large bee things. The music pounds as what I think are wasps (although I can never tell the difference) realize what is happening and begin to sting my mother. A few more frantic strokes of the knife and the tree branch is falling down. Once the next hits the ground the wasps swarm out all over the people on the ground. They run as fast as they can, but the pretty girl is left behind. Her whole body covered in the nasty things, she screams for them to help her, for the pain to stop. But it doesn't and my Mom is swaying over the girl in triumph. I scoot closer to the screen but then the commercial starts. Gee! Whoever recorded this, should have thought to record it in parts, I mean this is the Hunger Games! I want to know what happens, not see some stupid commercial for cosmetics.
I sigh and try take it all in: they were in the hunger games. It just doesn't add up. The visions I have of the dramatic Hunger Games are full of heart-racing angst, but I never pictured my parents there. They don't fit, I can't see them actually killing anyone. Dad always helps people, cares about them, he is the sweetest person I know.
For Mom, I've seen her yelling and sometimes in extreme cases, cursing, but not killing. Her shoulders slumped with age and the wrinkles creasing on her forehead, creating a perpetual frown, giving her the appearance of a tired old woman, not a bloodthirsty killer. Even in the video, the only difference is that her shoulders are straighter and her arms are thin but strong. Now, more often than not, they are crossed across her chest in either amusement of annoyance. How could she kill that pretty girl, who was always smiling brightly?
And Dad, how could he kill that boy? I thought he was a kind, loving father. Could he really be that determined killer I saw on the screen? My mind protests the thought. Isn't he my Daddy, the one who lovingly fixes my favorite breakfast when I'm having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning. Isn't he the one who always talks me through my emotional turmoil, from friend trouble to crushes to handling Mom's rare but violent mood swings. I can't accept this. I won't let this killer on the screen have any connection with my Dad. But I know, deep down inside, that they are the same person.
Suddenly it's too much to think about, and I'm running out of the room again, tears streaming down my face. Except this time, I can't run to Mom and Dad, they're the evil people with whom I no longer feel safe.
Here we are at Chapter 10. I honestly didn't expect to get this far. I'm sorry I took nearly a month to write this, but I promise with APs over, I will be posting faster now. However, things may come up, I do have school still, but I'll do my best.
About the dialogue for the interviews, I kinda stole the movie dialogue, but then I ignored the movie's ideas for the D4 boy. I apologize, but I was too lazy to get my book so that's how I wrote it. For my story, it worked better if Peeta killed the boy from D4 in the beginning instead of Cato killing him. However, I had the boy from the movie in mind when I pictured D4, so…yea. It's confusing, but he's not a major character so it's not that big of a deal.
Sorry for this rambling authors note, but I have one more thing to say. About Annie, she is definitely coming back. I just wanted to get this out of the way, so that I can work on the drama now. I know I went into a lot of detail about the games and the interviews and the chariot entrance, so please tell me if you think it was too much. As always, R&R!
