Chapter 2
I own do not own The Hunger Games. However, this story's plot and the original characters are mine. If you take them or plagiarize my story in anyway, I will come after you.
"Prim, let go," The older girl says harshly. She struggles to keep her face free of emotion.
A boy helps her up on the stage. Her knees buckle and the boy has to support her. He mouths something to her and she nods. Then she resets her resolve. The cameras zoom in on her face. She keeps it free of emotion, but anyone with half a brain can see the pain in her eyes. Her hands shake.
"Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the Games!" Effie Trinket gushes in her high pitched voice as if Katniss were a dog and preformed a trick. "What's your name?"
"Katniss Everdeen." Her voice is strong and clear.
"I bet my buttons that was your sister!" Her eyes widen and she bats her eyes. Her voice is sweet and syrupy. It makes me ill.
"Oh, come on." Graham groans. "She's going to die, at least give her some respect."
"Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" She cries flinging her arm up in the air. Her green suit jacket flies open. Her motions remind me of a praying mantis. The crowd in front of her does not move or respond to her command, but sits there oddly silent. The camera pans across the crowd. Their faces mirror Katniss's. Nothing. Somewhere off in the distance a dog backs. Effie looks awkward and she opens her mouth to say something.
This is when Haymitch seems to wake out of his drunken stupor. "Look at her. Look at this one!" He throws an arm around her. Unlike Effie, he does not resist. "I like her! Lots of… spunk!" His features harden. "More than you!" He shouts as he moves towards the camera "More than you, you bunch of cowardly b—." There is no need for the network to censor him; he does it himself by falling off the stage. The crowd gasps and medics rush over to his aid. Yet, no one laughs.
"I think my faith in humanity is restored," Graham says. "If not by Katniss, then by Haymitch."
"He is oddly endearing," I admit. "In a drunken, scruffy kind of way."
The camera cut away from Haymitch's spill and back to Effie, who had turned white behind her well made up face. She cast a sideways glance at where Haymitch previously stood. The part of her wig lays dangerously to the right. She forces a smile and says brightly to the crowd. "What an exciting day!"
"I think District 12 may have just single-handedly managed be a laughingstock, redeem itself and then become a laughingstock again," Graham said.
"I wouldn't underestimate the people of District 12," Tomick said quietly. "Haymitch Abernathy is no fool."
"If Haymitch Abernathy was not a fool then he has certainly become one." My mother, the great Vivian Hyde strode into the kitchen. Her red heels click on the marble floor in an authoritative manner. "What a disgrace and waste of a victor. If I were on the Gamemaker's Council, that man would have been punished harsher. He got off easy in my opinion."
I keep my eyes downcast into my stew and smash a few of the plums to try to make more broth. Graham's hand rests protectively on my knee. It's reassuring. With my mother's interruption we have missed the drawing for the male tribute for District 12.
"The stew is wonderful, Ms. Hyde," Graham says. He gives my knee a squeeze and then he looks at his watch. "I must be going. I must decide what I'm wearing to the party tonight."
"Oh?" My mother asks. "Which party are you going to?"
After the reaping there are always lots of parties, in Spirit of the Games. Really, it's just an excuse to drink and compare fashions. It's President Snow's orders. There, we take bets and try to guess what the Gamemakers have come up for this year's Games. My job is to see that they live up to their expectation.
"Well," I say hesitantly. "I'd like him to be my date to Seneca Crane's party. There will hardly be anyone my age there."
"But what will here wear? Does Graham have something to wear on such a short notice? All of the shops are closed today." Her voice is cool, calculating.
"I'm sure something can be arranged." I hear myself say, matching her tone. "I'm sure my stylist and prep team can think of something. It makes it easy that he's male and doesn't take as much to look beautiful. Isn't it time I stepped out with a suitor?"
She studies me, calculating how much damage she can inflict.
I keep going. "Besides, two pairs of ears are better than one. With the information we are able to gather, we can make this the best Games ever."
She is pleased. "I had hoped that you would step out into society with a suitor that was more… suitable and with a better breeding but given the situation Graham will have to do."
Right. Breeding and how much wealth and junk you've accumulated means everything.
"I will call Regan and see what she has available at her disposal. I expect Graham to be on his best behavior." She does not address him directly, only me. She has decided to ignore his presence completely. If anything goes wrong, you will pay.
Graham squeezes my knee again under the bar. I go back to eating my stew. It has gotten cold and the previous serving has turned into a lump in my stomach.
"Watch how much you eat, beautiful girls aren't fat," My mother says offhandedly. "You want to fit in your dress tonight."
Of course, we must keep up appearances. My mother was, and probably still is, considered to be one of the most eligible women in the Capitol. Even after she married my father, she still attracted men. My father was a fellow Gamemaker first and now a trusted advisor to President Snow. I don't see him much, my father. I hardly know who he is.
"Yes Mother," I answer.
"Your father will be there too along with President Snow. You better not embarrass me."
"Yes Mother." I keep my eyes downcast.
"We'll be the best dressed and best behaved couple there," Graham adds. "You'll hardly be able to tell my District blood."
"It's not about appearances, Graham," She says sweetly, puckering neon red lips together. "You see, it's about smell. A true Capitol citizen will be able to tell the difference between a real Capitol gem like my daughter and a commoner like you."
Graham bites his lips. He struggles not to take my mother's bait. Simply he says, "The people from the Capitol have to come from somewhere. If there weren't new blood from the districts then we would have a more stunted gene pool than we have already."
My mother ignores him and instead turns to Tomick. She gives him a few instructions of things not to forget. For instance, President Snow is allergic to anything citrus. "I need all of those foods labeled. If he becomes ill, it'll be your head."
"Yes, ma'am," Tomick replies.
Briefly, I wonder if anyone has ever tried that, and quickly push it out of my mind. My father told me in one of our rare conversations that President Snow has eyes everywhere. That's the reason he's been able to survive thirty years in office. Personally, I don't like our President. When you look in his eyes, you see evil residing there. And he reeks like a funeral parlor filled with rotting flowers. I hope Graham hasn't gotten any ideas. Both my mother and father have made it clear to me that I am not to challenge anyone here in the Capitol, as I have seen many of my parents' friends die.
"So do you think Caesar Flickerman will look like an Oompa Loompa this year?" Graham asks interrupting my thoughts.
Last year the host had a terrible tan that turned his skin orange and his lips were painted a garish red. The colors didn't complement him at all, reminding of us from an Oompa Loompa from the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
One of the few things I know about my father besides being a government official is that he loved things from the Old Times. Before Pandem was formed, there was another country in its place. That country had what they called movies. They were recorded on discs which you popped into the player. Then the movie played on the screen. My father was a collector and had hundreds. When he was I was about six or seven we would watch them together. He had given my permission to watch them anytime I'd like, though when my mother found out, she put a stop to it. "It's not what Capitol ladies do." She said. "Those things are in the past for a reason."
"I hope not for his sake," I say.
Graham checks his watch. "I guess I should go and see if I can find something worth wearing for tonight. What color is your dress?"
"Red."
He closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Mmmm… Red like roses, the love our dear president, who has the personality off..
"Not funny. If you're not careful, you could get your tongue cut out." I scold. "He prefers white roses."
He catches my cheek and kisses it. "Calm down. What time do I need back here?"
"Five. No later. The party starts at seven."
"Yes, ma'am." He kisses me again and disappears out of the door, leaving me with Tomick and the two Avoxes.
"Who do you think is going to win these Games and how?" If I have to be my mother's spy, I need to practice.
Tomick shrugs. "I think this year's Games will be unlike anything we've ever seen. And while I respect the Gamemakers like your mother, I doubt this will be out of their control. Though we'll know more when the tributes' training scores and interviews come in."
I thank him and then go back to my room to start the process of getting ready. Depending on what my stylists have picked out, it may or may not take that long. A part of me wonders if it was a mistake to invite Graham, but on the other hand, I would be wandering around high society making odd conversation with odd people who have had too much to drink.
My mother would forcefully suggest that I dance with the sons of other famous Capitol citizen. They would step on my toes. Last year, Demetrius Reza almost puked down the front of my dress. I've been disillusioned by the Capitol and it's citizens.