A/N:Thank you to all the people who have read this story so far, and especially to my reviewers! Also, thank you to the people who have favourited and followed this story too! Finally, thank you to my beta xKatharosx for the great grammar checking!
Reviews mean everything, so if you could take 1 minute, that's literally how long it takes, to tell me what you like, don't like, or your ideas, that would be amazing.
Wordlessly, the servants guide us to our rooms. Peeta's room is before mine, so I am left in an awkward silence as I am led through the multiple carts on the train. As I pass by, I try to make a mental not of all the carts in order. Peeta's room, game room, T.V. room, random room, Effie's room, Haymitch's room, kitchen….. Eventually, I loose count. Giving up, I resume the quite walk to my room, which I hope is near.
Finally, I see a door with Primrose etched into a brass plate. Not hesitating, I quickly go in and close the door, finally glad to have some alone time to collect my thoughts. Wait, I think, I forgot to thank the servants. Opening the door to thank them, I am greeted only by the empty hall, and the smell of furniture polish. I sickening feeling sets into the bottom of my stomach, I didn't say thank you; they must think I didn't care about their kind gesture. No matter, not saying thank you is the least of my worries, I'll just thank them later.
Looking in the mirror, I notice that my blouse is once again un-tucked. I think back to the memory of me and Katniss quaking around the kitchen table. Even though it was earlier this morning, it seems like forever ago. I decide that this is the memory I will hold of Katniss, not the one of the puffy eyed girl, with the troubled expression at the JusticeBuilding.
Carefully taking off my Reaping outfit, I fold it as best I can, and place into on the dresser. Stumbling into the bathroom, I quickly unbraid my hair, and tie the ribbons around my wrist. When I final become fully aware of my surrounding, my mouth gapes open in awe, there is a huge glass shower, along with a gigantic mirror and vanity. What shocks me the most though is the buttons. They're everywhere. On top of the sink, on the walls, in the shower; all glittering in hundreds of different colours. How can the Capitol people live like this? It would take me weeks to figure out what all these buttons do. Once I am in the shower, I get ready to tackle the task of figuring our how to turn the water on. We don't have showers in District 12; and the only hot water we get is when we boil it. And to think, there is hot water on a train, it is mind boggling. Randomly, I press a button, and the cold tile beneath my feet starts to warm. For a while I try to strategically push buttons, but soon give up, and press randomly. When I exited the shower, I'm freezing cold, and reek of every different type of flower.
At first, I am left shivering in the middle of the bathroom, but then a square lights up at my feet, when I step on it, hot air pounds my body until I am completely dry and toasty warm. Excitement rushes through me when I realize that I don't have to untangle my hair for hours. Instead, I put my hand on a smooth metal ball, which sends a pulsing sensation through my arms to my head, where I feel my hair drying and untangling piece by piece. When I look in the mirror, I see that my hair lays in a soft gold sheet down my back. Unsure what to do with it, I pick a plain blue head band from a drawer, slide it behind my ears, and get dressed in the first outfit I find. When I finally see what I chose, I'm pleasantly surprised. A perfectly fitted light blue sundress cloaks my body, and it's the same shade as the head band. Slipping into some white sandals, I wander around until I find the dinning cart.
When I get there, Peeta, Effie, and Haymitch are already in their seats. Wordlessly, I take a seat beside Peeta and dig into the green soup a servant has placed at my plate. At first, I'm thrown off by the fact that it is cold, but nevertheless, it is amazing, and tastes like sunshine and happiness.
"Look at that pretty little girl, people are going to sponsor you!" Haymitch slurs, "now if you can learn how to handle a weapon, you might have a chance… just kidding your going to die. You're going to die, just like the rest of them."
I'm taken back in surprise, he is our Mentor, shouldn't he be helping us? Whatever he should be doing, I know it is not telling me I'm going to die.
Immediately, Peeta jumps to my defense, "Don't talk to her like that! You're supposed to be helping us! Not telling her she's going to die."
"I didn't specifically aim it towards her. It was a general statement," he says, waving his wine glass in the air.
Peeta's face flushes with anger, and he reaches for a cup, which I presume is to throw at Haymitch. "Don't," I whisper. "How do you think he feels? Every year he has to watch his Tributes die; it's not fair to him either. Give him a break, you would go crazy too."
I can tell by the look on his face that he's still fully set at chucking the glass at Haymitch's temple. However, he sets it on the table with a little more force then necessary.
"Nice one boy," Haymitch starts to laugh, "you're letting a little girl control you." He looks at Effie, "You know what? I think he's going to be a Bloodbath death, you know what. You know what?" He points at me, and I shrug my shoulders. "I'm taking bets, anyone want to join?" He nudges Effie, who shrinks away in disgust.
"Fine then, the more money for me…" He chugs the rest of his wine and goes to get the bottle for a refill. Before I can blink, Peeta has Haymitch in a head lock, and a fork is in his hand.
"Peeta let go! Your going to kill him!" Haymitchs face is turning purple, but Peeta shows no intention of letting go.
"That's so funny," he says bitterly, "only not to us."
"Peeta! Stop!" I get up and try to pry his hands form Haymitch's throat, but his grip is too strong. "Effie help!" I shriek.
"I just got my nails done, and I will not be walking through the Capitol will a broken nail! I will be the laughing stock of all the Escorts!" Apparently she thinks this is a valid reason, because she continues to eat her soup.
Without thinking, I launch my fist into the air, not really aiming anywhere, but hoping it hits something. When I hear a snap, and a cry of pain, I know I hit my mark. When I look up, Peeta is clutching his jaw, and Haymitch is recovering.
"I am so sorry Peeta," immediately, I regret what I have done, and grab some ice from the fruit dish to place on his jaw. He looks like he's in a lot of pain, and no words can describe how sorry I am. Silently, I slide back into my chair in shame and try to hold back tears. What have I done?
"Don't worry about it Prim, it needed to be done, otherwise, our Mentor would be dead." He pauses, and his eyes flicker to my hand. "Prim.. your hand."
I follow his concerning eyes towards my hand, which is turning a pale shade of green. Gently, he takes some ice and places it on my throbbing fingers.
"Well well well, looks like I have a pair of fighter this year," clearly, Haymitch has gotten his voice back, and he sounds impressed; "but get rid of that ice you two, we want people to think you roughed it up before the Arena."
"Isn't that illegal?" I ask
"Only if you get caught," he answers as if it is obvious, "even better. You fought and didn't get caught. Although I don't think anyone will believe you were fighting girlie, but for the boy," he shrugs his shoulders, "it will help his game."
"So you will help us?" Peeta questions.
"Here is the deal," Haymitch props his elbows onto the table. "You don't give me any sass, and do exactly what I say; and I will stay sober enough to help you."
"Deal." Peeta and I say at the same time.
"Good, now if there are no more… outbursts… I would like to get back to my meal." Haymitch grumbles.
"Precisely what I was going to say," Effie trills.
"But what about strategy, alliance, interviews, don't we need to get started?" I ask.
"Tomorrow, I promise. But can you quiet down now sweet heart? You're giving me a headache," Haymitch says, gripping his head.
"Yes, sorry." I go back to eating my meal, the table remains quiet, and so I begin to formulate a plan. One thing is for sure; I am taking notes when the Reapings play on T.V. later tonight. However, first things first, where do I stand with Peeta?
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