Chapter 3
There is no alarm to wake me the next morning, just the sound of an already bustling city. It takes me awhile to adjust to the light that's flowing freely through my window, actual sunlight and not just the bright glow of the city. It must be well past nine. I try to remember a time when sleeping this long was actually an option but I can't remember. I don't believe I ever have. Maybe when I was sick at home or the one time a trip to the woods had meant a broken foot. I suppose I was allowed to sleep late then but even on those days, I rose early with Prim, braiding her hair and made sure she ate whatever we had. My mother wasn't going to do it and someone had too.
Regardless, sleeping in was a luxury. I felt more rested than I have in months. I wonder if Peeta was allowed to sleep this long today or if it was just me. Maybe the Avox whose name I still didn't know had gone to Effie after leaving me last night, telling her I needed rest or that I had lost my mind. Maybe they'd let me sleep. There was nothing on the agenda today. The interviews were tomorrow and today was supposed to be spent "preparing". Knowing Haymitch, he wouldn't have anything to say in terms of actual help and Effie would probably just reprimand me on my hair or my scowl. I was hoping Cinna and Portia would be here, maybe even my prep team. I was finding that I was having a much more enjoyable time speaking to them then I was anyone else. They momentarily distracted me from my issues while everyone else seemed to just put them before me.
I lie in bed a little longer, inspecting my once bruised and bloodied hands which now had no trace of abuse on them. There is no recollection of my momentary break down and I'm thankful for that. I'm sure cut hands wouldn't completely count me out all together but it would be much harder to handle a bow. The Avox must have done something to them, put some kind of Capitol medicine in me while I was sleeping. I should find her and thank her but it would be too hard to explain if anyone saw us. We weren't supposed to talk them, not unless we were giving orders. Effie enforced the rule but I'm sure Haymitch wouldn't. I decide then, i'll find her late at night when I'm sure the rest of the train is asleep.
The growling in my stomach makes me move finally, after what feels like hours. I shift through the drawers of the cherrywood cabinet, amazed that such a beautiful tree made such beautiful furniture. Back home, no one would ever see anything this expensive. This alone would probably feed my family of three for six months, Gales family of five for three. The clothes it holds are a completely different story. Though there much nicer than anything I would wear back in District 12, they still remind me in a way of home. The worn down jeans, the leather boots, the dark colored shirts. It wasn't too far of a stretch from my every day wear.
I find a pair of jeans I like, ones that actually fit snug around my legs, making me look like a women and not a preteen little boy. Then a shirt, one that is made of silk. I don't have to wear anything underneath because even though it is the smallest thing in the drawer, it does little to fit me the right way. My mother would spend hours trying to fix it so it was acceptable to wear in public. But here I didn't care. It would only be a matter of days before the clothes in this drawer were nothing but a distant memory in my mind. I'm sure whatever I wore in the Arena would be worse than the lose fitting silk shirt I am in now.
I check Peetas door before going to find a source of food. I knock lightly, knowing he'll hear me if he's inside. I suppose isn't because I don't get an answer. I look down at the keypad then, wondering if it actually works or is just for show. I press my thumb down on the indicator. It does nothing and the door does not unlock. Hm. Interesting.
Avoxes greet me at every turn though I'm unable to find the girl with yellow eyes. I think about asking but I don't want to get her in trouble. I'm not sure if she broke any rules in trying to help me but if word gets out, I'm sure it may unsettle some. So I keep my mouth shut but keep one eye open.
It turns out I find everyone at the end of breakfast, all smiling and laughing about something Peeta has said. Our stylists are here, Portia already wearing one her elaborate hair pieces and Cinna with his gold eyeliner. They smile at me as I walk in. I'm thankful their presence. Haymitch mumbles a greeting, Effie raises her glass, and Peeta smiles, his crinkling at the edges as he raises his hand. "Did I over sleep?" I ask quietly, taking a seat next to Peeta. He throws his arm around my shoulders like he always does, not wasting a moment. This physical interaction should unnerve me but it doesn't. It feel comfortable somehow. Right.
"Not at all. We decided to let you both sleep in a little," Effie says.
"While we can," I finish for her, finishing whatever egg mixture Peeta had left on his plate. Going to bed without dinner is catching up on me. Now I'm starved. The days of sleep and unlimited food we have are dwindling. In fact, we only have one more day. One more full day here. I hadn't noticed until now or maybe I had and chose to ignore the fact. I ask for another plate of eggs and a pound of bacon. No one bats an eye as I do so.
"About that," Haymitch starts, leaning forward on his elbows. I know this is how you can tell if they man is being serious or not. "What is first thing you two do after the gong sounds? What did they tell you in the Academy?"
"Retrieve weapons," Peeta and I both say at the same time. It appears our training has succeeded in teaching us the most important things. It would be dangerous to go into the Arena without a weapon with you, even one knife was better than not having a thing.
"Wrong," Haymitch says, slapping his hand on the table for emphasis. Peeta and I jump, everyone else remains unphased. They were used to it by now. Peeta and I were still struggling to understand it all. "You get the hell out of there and as far away from the Cornucopia as possible."
"With nothing?" Peeta asks before I'm able too, his eyes weary. "That just seems very risky." He was right. One year, there was no water in the Arena other than the melted ice on the top of the mountain or the water bottles that were stored in the Cornucopia. Most tributes who didn't initially grab something at the Cornucopia died within a matter of days from dehydration, not having enough strength to even attempt climbing the mountain. Since those Games, it's pretty common to at least attempt to grab something, a back pack if you can or even something as pointless as a pen. The point is, you never know what the Arena holds and leaving the Cornucopia with nothing has never worked out in anyones favor.
"If you grab anything, you grab something within ten feet of you. No more," he tells us. I look down at the square tiles on the floor, counting ten of them with my eyes. It wasn't very far and if that was as far as we were venturing out, there wouldn't be anything to grab but terrain. I already didn't like the idea and the look in my eyes must have told Haymitch something. "I mean it," he says sternly. He locks eyes with me then. "And I'm talking to you, Katniss." Of course he was. Peeta would listen. Peeta was the good one in this trio. I was the defiant one. I would be the first one on the move. There was no point in denying it.
"Peeta and I can fight," I tell him, not breaking his gaze for a minute. I have no doubt we can after seeing what they had to show in the Training Center. Peeta and I could handle a few knives, dodge a few spears. Maybe I was being slightly arrogant but I was sure we could make it out of the Bloodbath alive. A little scratched up but nevertheless alive.
"You are just begging to get yourself killed girl," he tells me, shaking his head. In his eyes I'm a lost cause. I'm sure now he's just hoping to get at least Peeta out of this thing alive. "You're telling me you can kill all six of those Career packs? And whoever else is dumb enough to stick around and fight?"
He's right. The Career packs are most likely allies. They've created a group that is going to watch each other backs, at least until the end. Killing all six of them before being killed is stupid and nearly impossible. I try to think of else might stay. Maybe the girl from 7. Thresh might but I can't see Rue wanting too. Their a team and unless they want to split up during the bloodbath, I don't see them being a big factor. Everyone else I'm sure will run. Deep into the Arena where we won't find them until the Gamemakers drive us back together.
He must see the resolve in my eyes because he just chuckles, leaning back in his chair, hands on the belly all the alcohol he has been consuming has created. "Girl on Fire, those Gamemakers are going to burn you out."
"Give it a rest, Haymitch," Peeta snarls in my defense, throwing half a roll his way. Haymitch catches the thing in one hand, soaking it in the contents of whatever he's drinking before popping it into his mouth. I think for a short period of time about throwing another knife, maybe my fork or something that will have more of an effect. I decide against it. Way to many witnesses at this table. It was different when it was just Peeta, Haymitch, and I.
"We have some coaching to do today, just for a few hours," Effie tells us after a tense moment, drawing our attention back to the task at hand. Today was not the day to be worrying about Bloodbaths or the other Careers. No, we were still in the period of time where press was truly the matter to the success of a pair. Peeta and I still had a lot of impressing to do in the Capitol though it wouldn't be much of a struggle any longer. We had scored a 21 together. That wasn't going to be overlooked on matter how bad the interviews went tomorrow. "Cinna and Portia will be helping you on how to conduct yourself. Like how to sit, how to laugh, how to smile." Effie gives us an example which is quite impressive I must say. "Katniss, honey, today you will be learning to walk in heels. Bless Portias soul, am I right?" I give her a smile. Not an honest one but the best one I can manage. I suppose I do have a lot of coaching to do. "And then you two will come work with Haymitch and I on how to answer the questions in the interview."
It seems that the one thing the Academy had failed me in was the art of being nice and pretty. It had been two hours since our training with Portia and Cinna had started and the only thing I had succeeded in doing were injuring Peeta and I after my failed attempt of walking in heels.
According to Portia, my smiles were unpleasent and tense. Peetas were fake and almost sad. "You two look so much better when your-"
"Comfortable?" I interject, raising an eyebrow in desperation. Portia claps her hands together in agreement, nodding her head and then whispering something to Cinna who hasn't said one word through the entire process. I've been strapped into heels that give me at least ten inches of height. I tower over Peeta and can see the top of his head, where his blonde curls form and where they end. A few times, I rest my arm on him for comfort. He laughs and explains he's the one who will be laughing when I bust my ass in these things. I promised him I'll be doing the same.
"Maybe we just aren't good at this, have you ever considered that?" Peeta asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He looks just as worn out and tired as I do. I wonder if he's sleeping any.
"You're great at this, Peeta dear," Portia coos, running a hand through his hair then using the pads of her fingers to smooth it down. "You two just need some tweaking. It'll come along."
It may come along but it isn't like any of this will matter. Not after tomorrow night. No one will care about the dress we wore or how good I walked in my heels. It's all so insignificant in the grand scheme of things and I want to tell her so. I want to tell all of Panem so but it seemed I was already in a bit of hot water so I bit my tongue.
So we practice some more. Me walking up and down the hallway leading to our bedrooms, Peeta with a hand on my waist as he escorts me from place to place, smiling at the adoring fans who pray for our survival, and finally a bow that ensures we are done.
"Well, there is nothing more I can do," Portia exclaims after our seventeenth departure down the stairs. I agree as does Peeta and we move on to lunch before we can be swept away by Effie and Haymitch in less then an hour.
Our lunch is simple. Some ham, bread, and a few pieces of cheese. This was something we would eat on holidays at the Everdeen household if things were good. The butcher would give us the old ham, the ones that no one really wanted but that were still okay to eat. We loved them and ate off of them for days because meat like that was so rare. We would buy bread from Peetas father in exchange for the squirrels he likes so much and then some of Prims goat cheese if she hadn't sold it all at the Hob. It's nothing but good memories yet tears still sting my eyes as I take the first bite.
"Something wrong?" Peeta asks me. I'd forgotten for a moment he was even there.
"Reminds me of home, you know?" And he does know because by the slow bites he's taking, I know he feels the same way. As good as it will feel to never have to taste old ham again, I wouldn't complain if I was having one of these sandwiches with my mother and Prim versus here in the Capitol. "Your father always traded me bread for squirrels I kill in the woods. He'd always make much better trades than he should have but I wasn't complaining. It fed my family for a couple days."
Peeta nods his head. "Yeah, your squirrels are always the best. Right through the eye, my dad always tells me. You never puncture the body or anything else."
I frown at Peeta then, my eyebrows coming together in confusion. "You've had my squirrels?" I never imagined merchant families eating the way Seam families did. Especially not Peetas. Squirrel was only something you'd eat if were desperate, if you really needed protein in your life. Merchant families could afford things like beef and chicken, things Gale and I couldn't get in the woods. But Peeta nods again, finishing off his first sandwich and then asking politely for another.
"Yeah. If it was a slow month, it was all the meat we would have. Of course we had a lot of bread and cheese, but it was always the stale bread and rotting cheese. Never any of the good kind we sold to customers." He says the words without an ounce of self pity. "But I'm glad my dad made good trades with you."
I am too. "Your mother never bought the squirrels. If you needed meat so badly, why would she always refuse them?" I know I shouldn't ask about his mother. It's a sore subject and I knew that before I had even met Peeta, before I knew what kind of position the two of us would be put in. She was a mean lady, not just to her own children but to almost all the children in District 12, their parents too.
She was bitter for reasons I didn't understand. She had a home, three sons who were royalty in the District, and a sweet husband who took care of her. Although, from the way Peeta makes it sound, the struggled, she always had a warm bed to fall in to at night and the comfort of knowing she knew where her food was coming from the following day. I couldn't say that about everyone living where we did.
"My moms just... different," he says struggling for words. I've heard rumors that she hits the boys but I couldn't tell you if it's true. It may be but I would never ask. She won't hit Peeta anymore when he wins. She'll have no reason too.
"Well that makes two of us," I tell Peeta, finishing off my own sandwich but not having an appetite for anything else. Peeta looks up at me with sad eyes and I wish he wouldn't.
It was no secret my mother had lost her mind after my fathers death. Sure, she'd found it but it would never make up for the years I had lost due to having to take over her place in Prims life. I almost didn't trust her. Not with Prim. Not with the money. Not with the responsibility. I doubt she would mourn for me the way she mourned for my father though. She loved me but not nearly as much as she loved him. Most of that was my fault. I had pushed her so far away by the time she came too she never got the chance. I had tried my best to honestly forgive her in the weeks leading up to the Reaping. If I didn't make it back, I didn't want her to think I hated her. I didn't hate her. At least I was trying to convince myself of it.
"Your mother was very beautiful once or so I heard," Peeta says. This brings a smile to my face. She may be crazy but she also is beautiful and the two, in a way, go hand in hand.
"Yes," I say. "Still is in a way if you're able to get past the glaze in her eyes and the tiredness she takes on now. Prim looks so much like her. I hope she never has to bare the weight like my mother did. I want her to stay beautiful forever."
"Your mother is still beautiful," he whispers. I wonder when he's seen her, if it's been recently. I don't ask. Portia had said I needed to learn to accept compliments so I suppose this would be my first one. "Just like you are beautiful and Prim is beautiful." My cheeks burn at his proclamation and he must see it because he leans back in his chair then, removing some space between the two of us. Suddenly, the air seems tight.
"I'm sorry we have such ruined mothers," I tell him. He laughs.
"Yeah. It does kinda suck, huh?"
And this is the common ground Peeta and I both have. I finally understand why the air feels so comfortable around him, much like it does when I'm deep in the woods with Gale. We're both children who come from homes ruined by things completely out of our control.
Effie comes into the dining area a little while later, seething about something Haymitch said or did and I know, for now at least, whatever truce they had was over. "I swear. Some times I am just about ready to pull my hair out, I'll tell you two that!" She spits. If she pulled her hair out, it would come out in one piece being it is a wig. I can't help but smirk but I do manage to keep the comments to myself. There is no use in being mean to Effie. She does only mean the best. It's not her fault the Capitol has put all it's worse qualities in her. "Up, up! We have coaching to do. You two have certainly eaten enough," she comments, her eyes falling on the tray that once held the sandwiches. We had and now I was feeling the aftermath of it.
She takes us to her room, one twice the size of the rooms Peeta and I stay in. I gape at the large area, knowing certainly one women could ever need this much space. Not even Effie Trinket. "A little outrageous, no?" She asks, looking at our gaping faces. We both nod numbly. I wonder how many times my home in the Seam could fit in here. At least ten, maybe fifteen give and take some. When I go home, I'll tell Prim all about it.
"Is Haymitch joining us?" Peeta questions, sitting in the plush chair opposite Effie. I do the same, my body sinking it the cushion. Effie nods, her eyes flickering to the clock she wears on her arm. It's a watch. I think that's what they call it. No one wears one in District 12. There much to expensive for anyone to afford. We stick to the Capitol issued clocks we all receive. They only give them to us so we'll be punctual for things like the Reaping. Other than that we don't really have any use for them. Most people just sell them to the working families who use them. I bet Peeta has more than one clock in his home. They would be of actual use, at least at the bakery.
Haymitch arrives a good twenty minutes later, wearing something different than he had been at breakfast. He smells of vomit. I put the pieces together, solving the mystery of the disgruntled Effie we had seen earlier. "Feeling better?" I ask.
He grunts, moving over to sit next to Effie. An Avox brings him a glass of water which he accepts happily. "Well the sight of you two isn't helping much, but," he trails off, wiping his bare feet on the white carpet we all sit atop. He leaves black streaks. Effie shrieks and Peeta whispers something about being nice. I laugh because I don't know what else to do.
"What is this, Haymitch," Effie shrieks, motioning for an Avox. They come quickly, pouring a cleaning mixture on the stain. It disappears distantly. That would be of great use back home where coal dust stains almost everything.
Haymitch shrugs. "Something that cat dragged in." No one talks anymore about it but Effie looks pale, Peeta looks disgusted, and I am unphased. I've seen worst things in my life. Maybe Peeta and Effie haven't. "Now are we going to start this training or what?"
"Why exactly are we getting etiquette training from a dirty old drunk who just wiped his dirty feet on your carpet," I argued, looking towards Peeta for help but he remains silent. I guess I'm on my own on this one.
"I was just about to ask myself the same thing, dear," Effie agrees, her eyes narrowing at Haymitch who looks amused. He raises his glass of water at the both of us.
"The boy is my favorite. I don't know if you two have figured that out yet," he exclaims, laughing as he clinks glasses with Peeta who looks stunned by his admission. I don't know why. It was no secret but Peeta is to humble to see it.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get this over with, okay?"
It takes us three hours to make any progress.
Peeta needs no help conducting himself. From the moment we began he had no problem answering Effies "made up" questions, cracking jokes, and mastering self-deprecating humor. Effie had fallen in love with him in minutes, barley having to correct the way he sat or said things or smiled and laughed at all the appropriate times. A few times, Peeta even managed to make Haymitch give a small chuckle. It took them about forty-five minutes to perfect whatever they needed to perfect. After that, both Effie and Haymitch had no disagreements on the fact that he could not be more ready.
I, on the other hand, was a different story.
I was mean, cold, angry. All the things they didn't want me to be. I was not good at making fun of myself, of the Capitol audience, or any of the other tributes. I wasn't funny like Peeta or sweet or patient. I couldn't manage to keep the scowl off of my face for more than five minutes and all my smiles seemed forced and ungenuine. I was losing the audience from the moment I walked on stage or so that is what Effie tells me. Haymitch tells me I have less personality than a bag of rocks but I had already known that.
"I can't do this!" I yell in exasperation, pulling at the ends of my hair. Peeta tries to calm me down, telling me that I'm just to tense but somehow him telling me this does little to help with my stress. "I'm not Peeta! I can't be charming."
"You're not supposed to be, honey. You're the female tribute. You're supposed to be sexy and fun!" Portia tells me. Our stylists decided to join us after Effie had voiced the obvious problems we were having with making me seem appealing. They were little to no help. Cinna, once again, being quiet and Portia being too much of everything. They helped keep Haymitch under control, his mean slurs to a minimum and I suppose I owed them for that in the least.
"I'm not fun or sexy or anything of that nature!" I scream, turning my eyes toward Cinna who is giving a slight shake of his head.
"She's right," Haymitch mumbles, asking for yet another drink. I don't blame him. I would've done the same thing by this point. Peeta knocks the glass out of his hand though, ignoring the curse words Haymitch throws at him. "You were my favorite. I'm back to hating everyone."
"Maybe she should play the arrogance angle," Effie says, looking uneasy. I could play that angle but it would be my life line. The last thing I could hold onto is the ship began to sink. Everyone agrees this is the only thing that's going to work. Maybe because I am arrogant. There wouldn't be a lot of acting going on. "Katniss, honey, we've tried everything we can but really, this is all up to how you wish to play it when they call your name tomorrow."
"We'll be last. It will be just like the private sessions. No one will even care by that point. I don't know why we're having to go through all of this," I say below my breath, shaking away the Avox who is at my side with wine. She must have sensed I need it. When I look around everyone is drinking, even Peeta who is taking very small steps but still. I've driven everyone to drink. Great. "Actually, yeah. I could use that now." She brings it back and I down it in one gulp, instantly wishing I hadn't. How does Haymitch do this?
"They'll be paying attention to you," Cinna began. He leaped into a story about how all anyone cares about are the Career Districts. No one cares about the middle Districts that end up getting lost in the shuffle of things. He at least tries to convince us of this but it's no use. I know that's a lie. No one here even considers 12 a Career District. "And besides, the two of you got the highest scores. There is no way they could possibly overlook Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen." Maybe he is right.
"We're all just tired," Peeta says then, setting his still full glass to the side. Haymitch grabs it and empties it for him. "It's been a long day."
"If you think these are long days wait until you're in the Arena, four days in with three hours of sleep. Those are hard days," Haymitch barks, the alcohol obviously bringing out the worst in him.
"You know what he means," I cautioned. "I think you might need to go to bed, you're getting a little hard to handle."
"Oh, I'm getting hard to handle?" He laughs. "Effie, isn't that funny? I'm hard to handle!"
"Oh please, Haymitch. I'm supposed to be this way. What other way if there that I can win?" I challenge, stepping around Peetas broad body which has stepped in-between us.
"Touché. I feel like you've forgotten that I, too, have one this thing once." He taps the top of my head condescendingly. "And you haven't won anything yet. Don't get too ahead of yourself. Arrogance may work for your interviews but I'm terrified it may have the opposite effect in the Arena."
"Don't worry, Haymitch. Once Peeta and I do win this thing, you won't have to mentor another damn kid. You can get black out drunk in your disgusting home in Victors Village and not worry about a thing! Maybe then Peeta and I might actually be able to bring some kids home. Start doing the job you've neglected to do all these years!"
All is silent after my rant. Portia and Cinna looking surprised. Effie looking disgruntled. Peeta looking exasperated. And Haymitch. Haymitch with that damn smirk on his face which never seems to disappear. If he were going into that Arena, he would be the first one on my list, I'm sure of it.
"Good luck with that, Sweetheart," he mumbles, walking past me and through the door he had first entered through. I worry for a brief second that i've upset him. But he deserves it. Someone needed to say it and I suppose it needed to be me.
"Well, Katniss, I hope you're happy-" Effie starts but Peeta interrupts her.
"I think she gets it, Effie. Can we all just please have dinner now?" Once again, the boy with the bread comes to my rescue.
They all leave, all but Peeta who stays with me until their footsteps have far been drowned out by the sound of city beneath us. "Thank you," I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.
"I get it, Katniss. Constantly being compared and ridiculed can get hard on anyone." He does get it. He must feel the way I feel now after growing up with his brothers, always in their shadows, never quite living up. Things are a little different for Peeta and I but in a way we understand each other. Again. "He just sees a lot of himself in you."
"Has he told you that?" I ask.
"No but... Have you seen his Games?" I shake my head. They were years before I was born. They weren't a teaching tool for me anymore. I never felt the need to watch them. "They played them back at the Academy, probably a year or two ago, I don't know. But arrogance is pretty much how he won, you know. Playing it off in the interviews, getting an okay score at the private sessions, just being above it all." I understand. "Anyway, when his partner, you know, died, he couldn't be arrogant anymore because it really was just him. Of course, by this point there were only four left, one team, Haymitch, and some girl from District 5. I don't know. He had a really hard time winning, almost died plenty of times."
I try to imagine Haymitch bloodied and dying but find it hard too. I find it hard to think back to a time when he was in the very position Peeta and I were in, fighting for his life with twice the numbers of competitors. But he was alone. He was alone and I find it hard to believe a sixteen year old boy with no fighting experience won.
"How did he win?" I ask, suddenly curious.
"He used the Arena as a weapon believe it or not," Peeta laughs, shaking his head. "Got himself in a lot of trouble from what i've heard. Whole family gone, girlfriend, everything." I feel a bit of pity for him then. "I think that's why he drinks so much. He wants to forget but on top of that, he has to face the Capitol every year. The Capitol who killed everything he ever loved. It can be hard."
So that's how he did it, by outsmarting the smartest people in the Capitol. I don't doubt that got him in trouble, lots of it from the stories Peeta is telling me. But I start to understand. I don't know how I would be able to return year after year, having to look the man who killed the ones I loved in the eye, shake his hand, smile for the cameras. I had never heard about this so I suppose they kept the killing under wrap. Made them look like an accident. The Capitol was good at things like that.
"It doesn't make sense to me. He never comes to the Academy to help us, doesn't help the tributes in the Arena. Then he treats us the way he does, like we're lost causes. I don't know about you, Peeta, but I'm tired of being seen as a lost cause," I growl.
"I don't think he wants to help at the Academy because he doesn't believe in it," he tells me slowly. I don't understand. "I don't think he wants kids to go through what he had to go through. He doesn't want kids to volunteer for these things. He doesn't want it to be seen as anything to be proud of."
"Kids would have to go through this wether we volunteered or not," I tell him. "Would he rather it be some poor defenseless twelve-year old or people like you and me who have trained for this? Ones who actually have a shot?"
Peeta raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, I completely understand the volunteering thing. I did it, did I not?" He pauses, swallowing heavily. "I just... I just think that he believes fate is fate, you know? I think he thinks us volunteering is a sign of arrogance like he had."
"So he doesn't want us to end up old and alone if we come out of this thing?" It's harsh but Peeta nods.
"I think he's worried you might be biting off a little more than you can chew," he admits with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Do you think I'm biting off more than I can chew?" Peetas opinion is really the only one that matters. He is the only one that will face the consequences of me "biting off more than I can chew", which I think is a funny but completely inappropriate saying being where we come from.
"No. I think if anyone can handle it, you can."
"I trust you too. To get me out of there," I coughed.
"Good, because that's what I'll be doing."
I'm woken, yet again, at the crack of dawn. Not by Effie though, by my prep team who is equally as sluggish as I am at this time in the morning. All of their skin looks just as green as Octavia who is the only one with a true smile on her face. I wonder if they were out last night, enjoying all the parties and festivities that Peeta and I and all the other tributes were bringing to the Capitol. They must be. They must be viewed as royalty, at least for the time being.
They wax my legs again, whispering to each other about how atrocious they've become in the few days I've been in the Capitol. My face is washed and my body colored with glitter. They paint designs not only on my nails but my face, feet, and right above my eyebrows. I fear I'll resemble a Capitol resident but when I look in the mirror it's the opposite. The glitter doesn't make an appearance unless I hit the light just right and when I do, I'm on fire. I remember what Haymitch called me then, just the other day. Girl on fire. I wonder if that would stick here in the Capitol.
Cinna arrives hours later, after the prep team has done everything to me but put me in a dress. We hug, smiling and chatting for a few minutes. My prep team leaves. I bid them goodbye. They promise they'll be in the audience, cheering for me even if I have a terrible interview. Oh good. At least someone has faith in me.
"They even know I'm hopeless," I tell Cinna once they've left, covering my bare body with the robe provided for me by the Capitol. It smells of roses but everything here does. I've never liked the smell.
"You're not hopeless, Katniss," he whispers, grabbing the braid Flavius had crafted. He bobby pins it to my neck, swirling it and swirling it until it knots. Something different but then again something similar. "Just talk like you're speaking to a friend."
"None of these people are my friends," I grit through my teeth. No. All of these people are taking bets on my survival. They surely aren't my friends.
"I'm your friend, right?" Sure.
"Yes."
"Then act like you're talking to me. I will be in the first row. If you get nervous, try your best to find me and speak to me. They won't ask you anything to personal, Katniss. Probably just about the score and a few things about life back home."
If they asked this the interview would be short and bland, I'm sure of it. There isn't much to tell about life back home. I've spent a good majority of my years in District 12 being trained on how to kill. A few years in the woods but I couldn't tell anyone that. That would mean nothing but bad things for all the people back home. And I couldn't speak to anyone about my score. Maybe say something generic about "never in my wildest dreams expecting to get an eleven!". If that is all the interview consists of I should be fine, I guess. Cinna has done his job in easing my nerves.
"Are you setting me on fire tonight?" I reply sarcastically, my eyes wondering to the dress lying in a black bag. Cinna just smiles, his fingers working the strings of the bag. He pulls out a dress, one of red and oranges and golds. One of flames.
There's nothing ordinary about it. It isn't like the tribute parade outfit. The flames wouldn't distract from the dress. The flames were the dress. There were layers upon layers, my hands touching the silk before moving to the tensile, my fingertips leaving sparks as I moved along the fabric. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
"Do you like it?" Cinna asks. He unzips, taking a moment to squeeze my body into the constricting material. Along with the gold patterns on my skin, I am on fire. I am the Girl on Fire and all of Panem would know it.
"Like it? I love it."
The interviews are three minutes long, not to long but just long enough to make sure all that is said has to be said. Caesar Flickerman is the host, has been for years. He began when my parents we're younger. He has to be nearing seventy but he doesn't look a day over thirty. The Capitol has a lot of ways to keep you looking young and it appears he has done them all.
He wears the loudest suits, ones covered in glitter or tattooed Cheetah print, always dying his hair and eyebrows to match. This year he has decided on a purple, not a subtle purple like the color of the lavenders that grow in the meadow behind my home in the Seam, but purple, almost like the ink that has spilled from a pen. I decide I don't like it though it is an improvement from last years debacle with red. He appeared to be bleeding the entire span of the Hunger Games. From what I heard, it caused quite the stir here in the Capitol but that was all hear say from girls at the Academy who liked to gossip. Anyway, he's done away with the red and gone for the purple.
I don't agree with his outfit choices but he is a nice man. He never makes fun of the tributes or pokes at their heartache or gets frustrated when they run crying from the stage and yes, that has happened before. He helps out a lot, playing with the audience when it's obvious a batch of tributes aren't getting the praise they deserve, always asking follow up questions so the interviews run smoothly. He is one of the only people here in the Capitol I can say that for.
We sit in a circle around the stage, all the tribute pairs and singles, one through twelve. We have to walk down a long flight of stairs when our names are called, wave the audience who screams our names, accept a rose or two if their presented and then sit down with Caesar to being our night of fun. As soon as the first words are spoken, your three minutes begin.
Being District 12, once again, we go last. The audience is usually bored by the time it gets around to us though maybe this year, they'll be paying more attention. They seem to be a lively crowd, standing on their feet for every tribute who descends down the steps, waving and blowing kisses and cheering.
District 1 is first. They make no impression on me honestly. Glimmers voice is high and she laughs too much. Obviously trying to play up the sexy angle. Her dress is made of silver, glass almost and she looks ridiculous. When she points over to her stylist, a balding man with sunglasses on his face, he stands and bows but I don't know what for. The dress he created was hideous. Marvel is funny, telling a few jokes to Caesar who laughs hysterically. No one else does.
District 2 follows. Clove is cold, not answering any question straight forward. She flashes maybe one smile to the camera but I wouldn't even call it a smile. She's doing what Haymitch did, acting above it all and I must say it's working. It's making her intimidating, scary. I hope it isn't to late to change my angle. Cato is the same, telling Caesar and the audience over and over again how ready he is, clapping his hands together for emphasis. I don't doubt it.
The rest run together, my eyes glued to the Capitol citizens before me, cheering loudly and excitedly, not for a minute stopping to reflect on the fact that the next time they are here, they may see one of us, two if we're lucky. I try not to hate them as they smile up at me, wave to whoever is giving their interview, laugh at whatever is said. They don't know any better.
Rue is quiet with Caesar. Embarrassed about something he says by the way her cheeks color as the audience laughs. I feel a twinge of anger towards Caesar. He should not be making this small girl feel uncomfortable, he should be doing the opposite. She's dressed like a butterfly, something sweet and naive like her. I so badly want to run down there, wrap her up in the train of my dress, and do whatever I can to send her home now. She reminds me of Prim, the way her eyes run over things continuously, as if she's trying to understand things that don't have an explanation. But that's the way the world is in her eyes. Everything is new and exciting and I hate the feeling that soon, it will all be taken away from her.
I make a plan in my head then. If I die, Peeta must win. If we both die, Rue and Thresh must win. No one back home will get anything out of it, but I don't want to see the little girl with wandering eyes wherever I'm going once that cannon sounds.
My name is being called. I don't hear it but Peeta tugs impatiently on my arm, his eyebrows shooting up. I jump to my feet, wobbling slightly in my heels which are uncomfortable and loud as I walk. These would never be good for hunting. How do people where these so often? They are torture devices.
I hold the rail as I walk as a precaution. There are people, so many people that I couldn't see from my seat and now my airway feels tight. I look in the first row, my eyes searching desperately for Cinna. I find him among the many faces, smiling at me and nodding his head as I try my best to wave, to smile and appear friendly. I catch Haymitches eye then, watch him as he laughs into the sleeve of his tux. Effie elbows him, nodding fiercely at me to continue.
"Hello, Katniss," Caesar whispers in my ear, his arms coming around me to hug me. He tells me to calm down, below his microphone so only I will be able to hear the words. So my smiles must be giving the opposite impression of friendly and happy. "Katniss Everdeen, District 12!" He booms into his microphone, raising my hand above my head. I try to relax, looking into the balcony seats which have begun to chant my name. I seem to be a favorite, at least by the way the crowds reacting. It eases my nerves but not much. "Katniss, my dear, how are you?"
My eyes find Cinna. Talk to a friend. You are just talking to a friend. "Well Caesar, I'll tell you what, I've never been better fed in my life, I will tell you that." This earns a laugh from the people here in the Capitol but not from the people in District 12.
"Of course not, dear. So your stay in the Capitol has lived up to the expectations?" I nod my head. "Well that's lovely. You're dress, my God! It's unlike anything I've ever seen." His hands grip at the fabric.
"Careful! Don't want you to get burned now, do we?" Another laugh. My eyes flitter over to Haymitch who looks pleasantly surprised. He winks and Effie claps. "Isn't Cinna just the best? He works wonders, making a girl from District 12 look so amazing."
I know the cameras are all on Cinna now. He doesn't stand and bow like the District 1 stylist. He doesn't even clap. He just smiles. "You must tell us, what was going through your head during the tribute parade?"
"You mean after I got over the fear of burning to death?" I laugh. "I'm just lucky to have such an amazing prep team and stylist. I couldn't ask for anything more."
"Oh, I'm sure you couldn't! Now, I would like to ask you questions about the Reaping." My stomach turns. I nod, urging him forward. "That little girl, the one you volunteered for, did you know her personally?"
I shake my head, looking towards Cinna yet again. "Her mother and my mother are friends, have been since a young age." Not a lie. "I couldn't fathom seeing a young girl go into the Games."
"And what about you? You're young, only sixteen. You don't worry?"
"Oh, I worry every day Caesar. But I have faith in Peeta and I as a team. We can do this. We are going to try our hardest to win, to come out Victors."
The audience erupts in applause. Standing on their feet just as our three minutes concludes. Wow. That was quick. I whisper a thanks to Caesar who does the same to me. An Avox is waiting for me at the staircase, offering me a hand as I start my journey back up. The seat next to mine is empty when I return but twenty-two other eyes are on me, following me as I sit. I don't look back. Instead, I watch Peeta who is already a minute into his interview, talking to Caesar about showers but I'm not sure I heard correctly.
He's using the humor angle perfectly, much better than Marvel had. The audience loves him. They clap and scream and cheer before he even says a word. He has the Capitol wrapped around his finger much like we all knew he would. It was impossible not to love Peeta and Panem had just discovered why.
"So Peeta, tell me, is there a girl back home?" Caesar asks, leaning forward to rest his elbow on his knee. The cameras shift to Peetas face which is turning red with embarrassment and I feel mine doing the same. It never occurred to me Peeta might have someone back home, a girl who was counting on his survival. I couldn't tell you whyI felt this way. Peeta and I were friends, if that. Why I was suddenly jealous of someone I wasn't sure existed was beyond me.
Peeta confirms my suspicions. "No, no girl back home."
"There has to be someone you've had your eye on." Maybe not but there were plenty that had their eye on him.
"Well, there is this one girl but I don't think she even noticed me until after the Reaping." The audience groans along with Caesar. I wonder who the girl was, if she went to see him like Gale had gone to see me. I wonder if they had a moment together, one where he told her he loved her and she did the same. It angers me in a way.
"Well I'll tell you what, you win this thing and every girl in District 12 will be banging on your door. How does that sound?" The audience claps, I don't.
"Well, you see, the thing is..." He trails off, his eyes flickering to the crowd. "The thing is..." The thing is what Peeta! WHAT? "She came here with me."
There is no cheering. None from Caesar, none from the crowd, none from the other tributes. In fact, if I had closed my eyes I may have envisioned I was in the woods alone again. But I wasn't. I was on live television, my face plastered on every surface of Panem, Peetas declaration played again and again and again.
I'm the girl. I'm the one back home.
I look up at the big screen, one that is alternating between Peetas uneasy expression and mine of pure shock. My cheeks are red, almost matching my dress and my mouth is agape, almost comical. I try my best to gather my senses, to not make myself look like some love struck girl but I'm finding it nearly impossible to when his words flow through my head. She came here with me... she came here with me... she came here with me...
It seems in the time it took for me to get my emotions under control, Peeta has finished his interview and has taken his place next to me, taking ahold of my hand as he does so. I want to pull away, push him far away from me because the gesture that used to be comforting is now the opposite. But I don't pull away because I know if I do, that really will be broadcasted all over Panem. Teen love in the Hunger Games, was unheard of. At least, it was until now. Until Peeta had completely shattered the thought of just being a team.
No one would remember the other interviews. They would be a blimp in the night of what the Capitol was now referring to as the "star-crossed lovers of District 12". In a matter of seconds it was projected all around the auditorium, citizens tripping over themselves to get a glimpse of Peeta and I. This was a game. It had to be. There was no way that Peeta, within himself, could find a way to project these feelings for me one live television if they were true. This was the work of Haymitch and Effie. Not him. Peeta Mellark did not long for me like he had told the Capitol. There is no way.
The lights fade out and we're whisked away, me running as quickly as my heels can take me. I lose a shoe in the process but don't care, slipping into the first elevator I see, sharing it with the pair from 7 who keep looking at me over their shoulder. I've started to cry now, certainly I've started to cry. Great. Not only has Peeta embarrassed me but he has also managed to make me look weak in front of our competitors.
I'm left alone for five floors, sinking to my knees until the bing of the elevators alerts me I'm home. I've already planned my escape, running as far as humanly possible to my room, not eating dinner or listening to Peetas pleads for my forgiveness. It was our last night before the Arena tomorrow and we had a lot to work out but I couldn't. Not tonight. I couldn't look at the boy with the bread.
But it seems fate had other plans because as soon as I step from the elevator, so do Effie and Haymitch and of course, Peeta. Their smiling. All of them are smiling and laughing and I am the only one who appears to be disgruntled by this. Maybe because I was the only who was misinformed, who was kept out of the trio.
I don't give myself any time to think before my fist connects with Peetas jaw, sending him flying towards the ground. He falls atop an urn, one that breaks into a million pieces. I worry for a minute he's hurt himself but he hasn't because within minutes he is on his feet, nursing the red mark that is appearing on his chin. "What the hell was that," I scream, swinging one more time. He's expecting this one and dodges it easily, grabbing ahold my fist. It hurts but I say nothing. Instead I bring my knee up, satisfied with the groan of pain he gives under the contact.
Haymitch has his arms wrapped around my middle, pulling me away from Peeta who has doubled over in pain. "What the hell was that!"
Haymitch grabs my chin, pulling me still until I'm looking at him. He's angry too. "What are you doing, girl?" I push his hands away with ease, stumbling backwards until my back collides with the wall. "He did you a favor you ungrateful brat!"
"He did me no favors! He made me look weak! He made me look like some lovestruck girl who has no place in-"
"You're a team! Anything you think the boy did to sabotage you is only hurting him as well," Haymitch tells me, shaking his head in disgust.
"Oh, we're a team, are we? Well how many other secrets are we keeping then, huh? What else have you two worked out that I don't know about? Please, let me know!"
"She's just worried about her boyfriend," Peeta spits, shaking away an Avox with ice.
A boyfriend? She can't be referring to Gale, can he?
"I don't have a boyfriend."
"Yeah, and I don't care!" Haymitch says, exasperated. "He did the two of you a favor. You should be thanking him along with a lot of other things." He storms off then, not looking back.
"He's right, Katniss. He made you look desirable," Cinna says, coming to my side. He grabs ahold of my elbow as if I'll do something violent, dangerous. Hell, I might.
"There is no room for this kind of talk and behavior from either of you," Effie says. "I know I may be preaching to the choir here but you two are a team! This is no time to be against each other." She's right. This isn't the time.
I shake worried hands away from me and stomp up to my room, unable to look at Peetas bruised face and Effies scared eyes. I want to disappear, run away and hide but there was no time for that.
Peeta had known exactly what he was doing. He had his angle long before Haymitch and Effie pulled us into training. He wasn't charming or funny or self-deprecating like I had believed him too be. No. Along with help from Haymitch he composed a new angle. One that could be used for me too.
Love.
yes? no? maybe so?
The Games begin next chap.