I'm still in a state of shock when I'm finally ushered into a spare room of the Justice Building. It's lavishly decorated, from the hanging painted glass ceiling lights, to the white fire place- I swear, the thing doesn't look like it's been used once! There's even a small gathering area in the middle of the room, complete with a couch. The deep red color of the cushions brings back thoughts of the oncoming terror. I'm not here to be comfortable. I'm here to say goodbye to my family and friends.
The peacekeepers remain outside the door, and I'm actually happy they're there. I don't want them anywhere near me, but if they have to be somewhere, I prefer them to be out of sight.
"What?" I hear my mother screaming down the hallway. Her voice carries in such a way, that I have no doubt even after I leave district 12, I will have no problems remembering. "Oh, move!"
She bursts through the door, leaving behind a disgruntled peacekeeper- he glares into the room, unable to leave his post. My father saunters in next, and then my brothers. Alek won't look at me, but I expected this. Nor can I blame him for anything.
"There you are!" she says, taking a seat and gives me a hug. It only lasts a second, and then she's looking around, more interested in the furnishings.
"Dad," I say, getting up to hug him. He feels frail. After a moment, he pushes me away, looking away. He's crying again.
"I'm sorry, Peeta," he snivels, placing his hand on my shoulder. It shakes.
"It's all right," I say, even though it makes no sense for us to be apologizing. I'm just completely lost at what to say. Today hasn't been a good day for me when it comes to forming mouth words. "I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about. How are you going to take care of the shop?"
"Now's hardly the time for that."
"I don't see why not." I shrug. It's really the only thing that kept our family together. The only thing I can really think to talk about. "Your hands have gotten worse over the years."
"Don't worry about mom or dad. We'll still be around. Right, Alek?" Joey hits him the arm. It sounds like it must have hurt, but he doesn't flinch.
"Do we have a choice?"
"No," I say quickly.
We laugh a bit exaggeratedly- but if my name wasn't drawn, and I went on with my life, one day I would've taken over the shop. That includes looking after our parents, even after I would get married and my brothers left. So my life wouldn't be that astounding anyway. Maybe people will actually remember me for this. Not as another tribute from district 12, but maybe I could leave an impact on other people somehow.
If I can't live on, I will make sure my memory does.
I peek over at my mother who is oblivious to anything but the large portraits of Capitol officials. Dad is has moved back towards the door, playing with something in his pocket. Each tribute is allowed to bring something from home- I kind of wonder what he has.
"Hey," I say quietly. It isn't something my parents need to hear. I already have the slimmest chance of surviving this, but I just wanted to know what my brothers think I should do. Especially Alek- the reason he wouldn't volunteer was because of his girlfriend. If he were to be in the arena with her, what would he do? "I need to talk to you two."
Joey looks at me like I've gone crazy. "Why are you whispering?" Nope. This is just one of the few ways we express our version of sibling love.
…And people wonder why I'm good at wrestling.
Alek puts his hand on Joey's shoulder, and leans over. They both eye me like some wild animal. They don't even try to keep their voices down, while saying, "I think the tiny one has a secret."
"Oh…" Joey nods to himself. "That would explain the glare… You know, I didn't think it was possible- but he looks better with the other face."
"A miracle really."
"Everyone says we all look alike," I point out. I may be the tiniest, but no one can deny that we're related. Joey and I share the blonde hair and body structure, while Alek and I have similar facial features and blue eyes. Never mind my parents; I'm the combination of my brothers. "You can continue if you'd like, but I think that's just wasting the little time we have left."
I think I may have just ruined the tenuous atmosphere. Obviously, this was bound to happen- this time, after they leave, I'm not expecting to see my family ever again.
"What were you going to say?"
I open my mouth, but the words are caught in my throat. I look around- trying to recall the important thing I was going to say- when I notice there's something missing. "Where did dad go?"
They take a moment to search for him- seems pointless, there's nowhere to hide in here, plus the door is slightly ajar. Somehow, he managed to slip out right from under our noses.
We fall into silence, unsure of what to say to one another.
Joey and Alek continue to stand, but I make my way back to the couch, sitting as far away from my mother as possible. I always thought I was the closest one to our dad, but then why would he run off?
"Don't bother with him," mom says. "If he isn't strong enough to say goodbye to his son, then what good is he? You should just forget about him."
I keep my eyes on my hands, and begin playing with my knuckle to give me something to do. It's too hard not to tell her how he's more of a parent then she was, but my mouth would only leave trouble for everyone else. Although it would give me a bit of vindictive joy, no one should have to put up with her temper.
Sometimes I wondered how it would have been if it had only been the four of us. Happier? But she is like glue, constantly keeping us united against one common enemy.
Eventually we all end up next to one another, talking about the past. How we used play roughly, until we were yelled at or I got hurt. Somehow we never broach the parts where our mom was heavily involved. It almost makes me think I had a good life so far. Then we move onto school.
"I couldn't believe you two won," Joey laughs- he makes it sound as though we had any competition amongst the scant amount of team members. Most of which didn't eat enough to have proper muscle.
"Yeah, yeah," Alek says, defiantly. "I don't really remember it well- just a vague blurry memory of a certain little brother losing to me last year."
"The why didn't you volunteer?"
Alek laughs. "I don't want to die."
That's when the peacekeeper steps into the room. I miss the words, but I understand one thing; this is it.
"That was very nice, Al," Joeys says, standing up. He walks over to me, and gives me a one armed hug. "You got to fight hard, little man," he says, pounding my back with his fist. I know it can't be the first time we've been actually affectionate with each other, but it certainly feels that way. "Let them see what a district 12 can do."
"You don't have to worry about that," mother says, stroking her fingers in patterns on the couch. She's enjoying the feeling of what being wealthy must be like, instead of a poor baker's wife. She swipes her hand over the area where her fingers left marks, leaving it clean. "We might actually have one this year."
"You really think so?" Alek asks, as if he doesn't believe she's being serious. We're all surprised.
"Of course," she says as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and chuckles. "She's a survivor, that one."
"Mom!" Joey yells. It's difficult enough to put up with day after day, but now isn't the time. The woman is my mother, regardless of the fact that she hasn't acted like one in a long time, but I just can't look at her anymore. I'm sick to my stomach with fear and now revulsion of my own blood. I don't hate her- but she sickens me more than any person. Even more than the people in the Capitol who enjoy these Games.
"Oh don't make that face, Peeta," she sighs angrily, closing her eyes. Her fingertips press against her cheekbones and making irregular movements, trying to massage away the pain of another headache. It's something that I'm used to seeing, but something's different about it now. About her- perhaps it's because she looks like a stranger to me, but I begin to think that maybe she's the way she is because of stress. After all, what father tells his children how he wished he married another woman, and then leaves his doomed son without a word? It doesn't make sense to me.
"I think it's about time we left," Alek mutters.
While they begin to walk away, my mother opens her eyes again, reaches out an arm, and pulls me to her. I can feel her breathing, and it's steadier than mine.
"Be brave when you're in there," she says lowly, rubbing my back in a circular motion like when I was a small child- it was a very short period of time, but at least there was a point. I can feel a few warm tears staining my shirt, and they stop as suddenly as they came.
"Okay, mom," I say, and let her go. My brothers, waiting by the door, nod in my direction, and say one last "good luck." It's funny how in this moment we actually seem like a family. In their sad smiles, Alek and Joey resemble my father, and my mother resembles a human. Before she steps through the door, it looks like the woman wants to say something, but her face ices over and she's gone.
In the solitary confinement, there's nothing to distract me. Nothing to make me feel worse, but it's just so empty. I let out my anxiety, clutching onto one of the pillows, while the heaviest of shudders ripple through my body. Even if I come back to this town, I don't know what I have to come back to. There's no reason for them to miss me at the bakery or at home- most of the time I hardly saw any of them except at dinner time.
The tears appear on their own, but I don't bother stopping them- to be honest, I didn't even notice them until the door opened again. I throw the pillow away, and try to erase the evidence I had been crying, but whoever it is has seen everything. Great.
"Hey, man," he says quietly.
I wasn't really expecting anyone else, but I'm glad I could talk to Eban. He knows how deep I am right now.
"Hey," I manage to laugh, meeting his gaze with a weak smile. It doesn't sound right.
He takes one look at me, and though he gets rid of his pitied expression trying to seem collected and calm, but it's too late. The best we can do is trying to act normally.
"You know, your luck really sucks today," Eban notes, coming over to sit in a chair. He's probably enjoying it- not my situation, but the feeling of sitting in something so heavily padded with pillows. "It's bad enough being picked, but you just had to be paired up with hunter girl there."
"I know." I rub my eyes again. This time I make sure all the tears are gone.
"I mean, seriously. How could it get worse for you? First, just let me say I don't even know how you managed to keep this crush going for so long- you're almost like a saint. And second, just imagine; if she didn't volunteer for her sister, you'd still be in there with the little girl, and might even have to kill her off yourself…and then where'd you be?"
I manage to truly laugh. "You're really bad at cheering people up."
Eban glares at me, and moves to sit with his feet on the floor. "No matter what I say, is it really going to make you feel better?" he asks gravely, leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "Put a little hop in your step, hm? No. I didn't think so. You're in the Hunger Games- there's no escaping it. You might as well get it all out now instead of fooling yourself."
"Does it look like I'm fooling myself?" I say, raising my voice. I'm not crying for Katniss, I was crying because I'm scared out of my mind!
"Then don't avoid it! You'll be fighting to the death! It doesn't matter if you like her or not, because I'm going to tell you right now- I doubt she even knew you were alive before this. Katniss Everdeen isn't going to spare you because you come from the same district. Once you two are in the ring, you can kiss away your fantasies."
"I agree. She'll be just like everyone else- just trying to stay alive." Exactly like the twenty-two other tributes. Only one of us wins and I doubt working in a bakery will turn any odds in my favor when I'm up against a career.
"Fine." He shakes his head. "It's just I saw your family walking out of here. Not that I expect them to be happy, but your mom looked like she was gonna eat someone's head off."
"Yeah. She probably was." Who's going to decorate the cakes in the window now?
"You know, if I saw you for the first time right now, I wouldn't expect you to win either," he says. "So, stop pitying yourself! Life sucks- get over it. You think some of the kids I live next to have a better chance at life, even if they're here? You just have to face this like you always do. When they drag you out of here, forget about district 12 and your family, and focus your time what you're going to do in the arena."
My eyebrows furrow, staring at him. When did he become the voice of reason? "I'll be sure to do that."
"On second thought…" I don't like the sound of that. "Maybe you should tell hunter girl that you always liked her. Sure she may not believe you, might even want to try and kill you, but both of you won't being coming back together if not at all. You should say something."
Say something to her? Eleven years I wanted to do that. If it were just that easy to walk up to Katniss and say, I like you, I would've done that years ago!
"Hey, you don't look so good."
"I can't imagine why," I say dryly.
"Look- if it goes good, there'll still be twenty other tributes running around- they might kill her off before you have to. Just because you're short and lack talent and looks, like yours truly, doesn't mean you can't win this." And we're back to the jokes…
I roll my eyes- why does everyone go after my height? I'm not short. "Do I look like I'm going to give up?"
"Good… Though, I'm just going to say, if it comes down to the two of you; you're gonna die. I'm sorry, but she's been hunting for years. Everybody knows it. You have weight on your side, but that's pretty much it. If she gets her hands on a bow and arrows- you're screwed."
The door opens quicker this time. "It's time to go," a peacekeeper announces holding the door open for me.
I try to look more composed as I leave the room, but Eban has to throw in one last jab. "Just don't cry too loud. You know, on TV. It's bad enough your eyes are all red."
What's the point? I ask myself. There's no way I can play it off like I wasn't crying. Plus maybe it might just play in my favor later on… Nope. Never mind. I'm not a girl. It would be opposite of helpful- instead of having a larger target on my head, I would even consider myself pointless to keep alive.
I don't have time to see any of my other friends. Delly must have been waiting, but I'm glad that she didn't. I don't want to bring more memories with me into the arena.
They lead me to a car outside. All the dividers have been taken away; only leaving one large screen- it will stay up until the victor arrives home. It's almost makes me want to vomit thinking how my face will be appearing all over the screen. The last thing I want is to repeat the coal dust costume- if I'm going to die, I don't want to parade around naked in front of crowds.
When the car stops, we're in front of the train station. Every three days a Capitol train comes to pick up their shipments of coal. Now, there is one of those fast looking, streamline engines, purring at my arrival. For a moment, Katniss even looks like she's slightly mesmerized by the metal beast.
The cameras flash in our faces, blinding my eyes. I know what they see. A girl who looks like she's plain bored to death with this whole thing, and a boy who was bawling his eyes out. Even without completed scores or interview, Katniss is going to get sponsors for her bravery alone.
Subtly I shift my posture so I'm standing up straight. The red eyes there's nothing I can do about, so I repeat in my head, Yes, Panem. They're tears. Manly tears. Manly man tears…from a sixteen year old boy with a baby face.
It doesn't help.
Once the reporters have their fill, I trudge my way onto the train. Style-wise, it's worse than my waiting room.
In school we were taught how the land mass we live on was once called North America. To this day, there are still animals that roam free, though most had been hunted to extinction before the Capitol rose to power. Apparently they saved our society from the savagery it had become… Pretty ironic, considering how I am now one of thousands of sacrifices.
Back then, people used to bring all different types wild animals from all over the world, and stick them in cages, and called it a zoo.
Right now, Effie seems like one of those creatures. The only place she can look normal is surrounded by the brightly colored frills and fluff of the Capitol.
We're given our own rooms with an attached bathroom. Effie tells me quickly before leaving, that the draws are fully stocked with clothing. How in the world they know what will fit me beforehand baffles me… Do they chose the names earlier in the day, and then have the reaping as a formality? Or do they have barrels of clothing hidden somewhere, that they can just throw a heap into the room on short notice?
I'm too tired to think about it.
The dust from the courtyard sticks to my skin, making it uncomfortable to look at the clean bedding. Without ever really deciding to, I take a shower. Poking random buttons, scalding my flesh from the bone, finally I give up and jump out. The soap coats my hair, but there is no way I'm stepping foot back into that death trap…the sink will do.
When I'm dried, I put my clothing back on. They may be a little dirty, but they're the last thing I have from home. I thought my father would have given me something to take along, but silly me, my token is standard issue soot covered clothing.
After a while, it sounds like a cow is trying to plow its way into my room. And unless Effie has a grudge against the door, I'm guessing it's Haymitch.
Very carefully, I turn the knob, already poised to catch.
"It's time for dinner," he grunts. Haymitch's eyes blinks unevenly, even so, I follow him down the hallway. Part of me wonders where in the world he's going, but I don't ask. This isn't his first train ride.
"Where are you going?"
Huh? "To eat…?"
"It's the other way," he says, turning away again. "If they ask, I'm taking a nap."
"Okay." …That was a great first impression.
The dining car isn't empty when I arrive, but it might as well be. Capitol attendants bustle around the room, bringing covered trays of food. They seat me at the table, setting a glass of water above my empty plate. Otherwise, it's completely silent until the womenfolk arrive.
Katniss enters the room right behind Effie. She changed. I liked the blue dress she was wearing, but she looks more comfortable in shirt and pants. This proves it. It's a big enough train; there must be some hidden room where they keep stock piles of clothing. How could they anticipate a random volunteer?
They both stop and stare at the empty chair to my side.
"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks.
He must have known. Why wouldn't he? Haymitch may be a bumbling drunk, but this isn't the first year these two have been stuck together. "Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap."
"Well, it's been an exhausting day," she says, cheerfully walking to the seat diagonal from mine. I still prefer Haymitch over Effie, but by the twist in Katniss' lips, I know she doesn't feel the same way.
Once everyone's seated, the attendants file in placing various trays of food in front of us. Thick carrot soup, steaming lamb chops and mashed potatoes. Next an odd colored cheese and fruit platter. Lastly is a chocolate cake the size of my head. After sixteen years of scrapping by on stale bread and various greens people could find around the edges of the fence, the only thing I don't try to fit in my stomach is the green salad.
Every year in the district 12 train, I don't believe there's a word called 'pacing.' We don't care about more, enough more important- this is the most food we ever seen for us, and the richest, too. I begin to feel slightly off balanced, but I can't stop.
"At least you two have decent manners. The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion." I may not have been close with them, but the boy tribute last year was in Alek's year. No one was surprised when his name was called, because he had been entered more than fifty times. Most people from the Seam have more.
I learn something new about Katniss. As she devours the remainder of the meal with her fingers, I see a self-satisfied smile playing around the edges of her lips. At the end, she surprises me again by wiping her fingers of on the table cloth.
Effie scowls, but doesn't say anything.
When we're finished, I feel like I am about to pop. Never in my life have I felt so full, but it's a good feeling.
I walk carefully down the hallway, a hand against my protruding stomach, as Effie leads us into another room.
We watch the results from the other districts. District 1 and 2's tribute both volunteer. That doesn't surprise me, but that doesn't make me feel any better. Actually it's worse. Even if I can say I am decent at hand to hand combat, the boy from 2 is one year older and larger. A girl from 4 catches my eye- when he name is called she looks at the victors and smiles widely. Creepy. There's a girl with naturally bright red hair, and a boy with a bad foot. Besides that, everyone seems pretty average.
The last couple before us is announced, and Katniss stares intently at the screen. The little girl is only twelve- the third, if you count Primrose. Her lips part slightly when their host asks for volunteers. No one steps forward. It's the first time I've seen her unshielded the entire day.
Then it's our turn. Dear old district 12. Effie and I have a hard time watching the screen without feeling ashamed. The television commenters try to make it seem like a hokey, endearing sort of craziness that envelopes the coal mining city. Even the three finger salute loses its meaning amidst the chaos.
"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation," Effie says, once the anthem ends. "A lot about televised behavior."
"He was drunk," I say. It's not really a good excuse, but I imagine it has to be a little difficult to be presentable when you traded clarity for an empty bottle of spirits. It's something that isn't going to change even if our lives depend on it. "He's drunk every year."
"Every day," I hear Katniss mutter.
Despite my better sense, I can't help but laugh. I can clearly see in the set of Effie's mouth we really should be upset. But if I am going to be depressed my imminent doom, my last week alive will be pretty pathetic. I vow here and now, I'm not going to be another blubbering tribute.
"Yes. How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games." How could we forget? I don't want him in the first place. "The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"
Right on cue, Haymitch staggers into the room. "I miss supper?" he asks, and vomits on the floor.
I believe this is called foreshadowing, my dear Panem. I going to have to survive the Hunger Games without help from a mentor.