Dinner is a silent affair. Tris and Four talk quietly in the corner. Effie is busy reapplying her makeup, and Uriah only picks at his food. Haymitch is nowhere to be seen- Four wrestled him back to his room after he vomited, and locked the door. Peeta is also absent, and this unsettles me for some strange reason.
But none of that matters, because of the food that is laid out on the table in front of me. There's real beef, and pork and hot rolls, and slices of pale purple melon. There's also an abundance of sweets and tiny colored drinks, and plenty of foods I've never seen before in my life. All of it is delicious. I stuff down as much as I can possibly hold, wishing I could send some back to Prim and my mother. By the time the recap of the Reapings comes on, I'm turning slightly green from trying to keep the food down.
I watch closely, trying to gauge my competition, but only a few of the other tributes stick in my mind. A pretty blonde Candor girl from District One with a scary smile. A monstrous Dauntless boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District Two. A small, crippled Abnegation volunteer from Ten, and most hauntingly, an Amity girl from Eleven. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that she is very much like Prim in size and demeanor. Except when they call her name and ask for volunteers, there is nobody, only the wind whistling through the treetops. My heart beats heavy and painful in my chest.
Finally, they show Prim being called, me running forward to volunteer. You can see the desperation in my face, afraid that they won't hear me and take her away. But they do hear, and I bury my face in a pillow as I walk up the steps to the stage. Uriah takes his place beside me onscreen, and the feed cuts to the Capitol anthem. Tris shuts the television off.
For a moment, no one speaks.
The door opens and Peeta walks in. His eyes are cloudy and his hair is mussed, as if he just rolled out of bed. He sits down on the couch with a sigh, facing Uriah and me.
"Do either of you want to be trained separately?" he asks, and at first I don't understand a word he's saying.
"What?"
"Sometimes someone has a skill that they may not want their district partner to know about," Tris explains, looking at me. "Especially if the knowledge would give their partner an advantage over them in the arena."
"Oh." I look at Uriah and he shrugs.
"I don't really care," he says. "You know I'm Dauntless, and I know you're good with a bow and arrow. So I guess we're pretty even."
"Where did you hear about that?" I ask, curious. Four gives me an odd look. "I've never met a curious Stiff before," he says in response to my raised eyebrows. My face burns at the cruel nickname.
"Gale told me," Uriah responds. "He and my brother were in the same initiate class, and we're pretty good friends. I've heard a lot about you," he says, grinning wickedly.
"Oh?" I press my hands to my cheeks to try and stop the flush that creeps up my face. What exactly has Gale been telling his Dauntless friends?
"He told me to look out for you. You know, in the arena," Uriah adds, and I stare at the floor. Uriah has a much better chance of winning than I do, and let's face it, I'm dead anyway. I know that. Gale knows it. Why would he ask his friend to risk his life for mine?
"I'm as good as dead," I say softly. "There's nothing Gale could ask you to do that would change that."
Peeta shakes his head. "That's not true. My father buys your squirrels- he's always talking about how your aim is perfect. Right in the eye, every single time."
He's been keeping track of me, I can tell. But why? Why is he helping me again? Come to think of it, why did he throw those rolls in the first place?
I guess there's a little Abnegation in everyone, even if they don't know it.
I turn away and look out the window. If I were truly selfless, I would not know what to do with a weapon, if it were placed in my hands. Faction customs say that weapons are used in self defense, if not violence, and therefore are self-serving. But does it count if you're using it to keep someone else alive? I don't know.
"I'm going to my room," I say, getting up from the chair. I leave the dining car without looking back, working my way forwards until I find the door with my name on it.
I fall onto the large, fluffy bed and climb beneath the bedclothes, not even bothering to remove my shoes. My eyes close, and I'm before I know it, I'm asleep.