Two Chapters in one Day! This one is long, too. I might be following the plot a bit to closely… please! Review!
I do not own the hunger games or the characters. If I did, Finnick, Prim, and Rue wouldn't have died. To all readers: If you were a tribute in the hunger games; have far would you go to survive?
The reaping is over, and the Peacekeepers march us into the Justice Building. I remember last year, when most tributes almost simultaneously tried to escape. It didn't work, and though it is often attempted, I've never seen it actually happen. Once inside, I'm taken to a richly furnished room, and left there. The moment I'm alone, I start to cry, knowing it will show later, but unable to help it.
My father comes into the room first. He's not a talkative man, and for a few minutes, we just sit there, until he finally speaks. "Do your best, out there Peeta, ok?" I nod my consent, happy that he didn't try to tell me I'm going to win, that I'll make it home, that everything will be all right. Because it won't. I've seen the victors, and all of them have a strange, haunted look in their eyes, because it is obvious that the games never leave you.
I bury my face into my father's shirt, tears streaming down my face, knowing that I could be dead in less than a fortnight. Finally, the peacekeepers come, signaling his time is up, and I know that this is it. When I break down. Next, my brothers come in, and Yamen is beside himself. I can't blame him for not volunteering, though, but a small part of me can't help but feel angry that he condemned me to death, not willing to take my place. They don't tell me I'm going to win, either. They are two busy telling me I must win, and I humor them, promising I will, knowing it's useless to say otherwise.
My next visitor is Delly, one of my best friends forever. She's holding something in her hand, a rough cord that's an ankle bracelet. She's talking urgently, so fast I can barely understand what's happening. "They allow you to take one thing with you into the games, as a reminder of home. Will you take this?"
"Okay," I whisper, barely getting the words out, less concerned with district tokens and more concerned with surviving. But Delly's looking panicked as the peacekeepers come to take her away. "Promise!" She yells. "I promise," I reply, and get the feeling that this is not just about the token, but also about coming home. About not leaving this world in a foreign place.
Next, my mother enters, and I'm surprised that she cared enough, but not pleased when she finally speaks. "District 12 will finally have a victor this year," she says, and I'm strangely happy, to here that, though if anyone else said it, it would sound fake. "You really think so?"
"Yes. She's a survivor, that one." And then my heart sinks, because I realize that she's not talking about me at all, that she knows I'll die, that she never cared. The words that come out of my mouth are harsher than I thought they would be. "Leave. Just…leave. I don't want you here. No one does." She looks stunned. "Why you ungrateful little brat! I raised you! I-"
"No one cares," I interrupt heavily, once again on the verge of tears. "No one cares about you." With that, I turn away, and hear her leave. Before the door slams behind you, I think I hear her whisper, "I love you," but it's so quiet it may just be a figment of my imagination.
My final visitor is expected. In fact, I would be devastated if she didn't come. Lenya rushes in, crying. "You've got to win! For me! For the district! I-I can't watch you die." It breaks my heart to know she cares so much, but I look her in the eye and say fiercely. "I will win."
"Promise! Promise you will do whatever it takes to make it out of that arena alive."
"I promise." And then we are kissing, desperately wishing for more time, passionately, knowing it is likely I will never see her again. The peacekeepers yank her away. "Promise!" she screams fiercely, as they drag her away.
"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." Then she's gone, and all that is left is the dust raised by the slammed door.
The peacekeepers take me to a car. I've never ridden in a car before, but am getting nauseas. The train station is crammed with reporters and their cameras are trained on our faces. By this point, the only reason I care about the tears on my face is because of the promise I made. We have to stand in the doorway for a few minutes while the cameras flash, but then we are taken inside and the doors close on my last sighting of district 12. Katniss and I are each given chambers about the size of the bakery and the kitchen put together, with a dressing room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. The showers are much nicer than the ones we have at home, and there are drawers stuffed with clothing. Effie Trinket tells me I have an hour to do whatever I want and prepare for supper. I take a quick shower and dress in a black shirt with loose black pants. I fashion Delly's bracelet around my ankle, determined to at least keep that promise. I bury myself in the pillows, and remember Lenya's final words. "Do whatever it takes to win." And I know that, for her, I will.
Before I know it Effie is summoning me for dinner, in her obnoxious voice that I don't know how I will stand. I'm stuck for a week with a Capitol citizen, a drunkard, and Katniss Everdeen. I might be dead before the games even start.
I sit down, waiting for Effie to arrive with Katniss. When they do, Katniss sits down next to me. Like I said, pure torture. "Where's Haymitch?" I remember seeing him, headed for his room before I collapsed. "Last I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap."
"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie replies, obviously pleased by Haymitch's absence.
The supper comes in courses, when one course is more than enough to feed my family for a day. A thick carrot soup, mixed green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a chocolate cake. Effie constantly kept reminding us to save space because there is more to come. I listen, but I notice Katniss stuffing herself like a pig.
"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," Effie says. Katniss makes a point of eating with her fingers the rest of the meal. I snicker quietly to myself. When I finish the meal, I feel green, but manage to hold it all in.
We leave for another room to watch the recap of the reaping. I take notes on all our competition. The female from 1: Glimmer; a lush body, green eyes, and flowing blond hair. Marvel: Brown hair and brown eyes, large, stocky. From 2: Clove, a small brown haired girl that looks deadly and ready to start killing, and Cato, a monstrous boy with blond hair and blue eyes. From 3: Elia, only 14 years old, and pretty small with black hair and blue-green eyes. The boy is my age. I didn't catch the name, but he looked clever. The four tributes: Ophelia and Arom; run of the mill careers, both of them blond hair and brown eyes. From five, a foxfaced girl with sleek red hair that may be the smartest of the bunch name Finch, and a brown haired blue eyed 15 year old, Mac. 6 has a brother and sister; Anna and Felipe, looking almost identical with dark brown hair and black eyes. From 7: A 17 year old brown haired brown eyed beauty that looks scarily like Lenya, and a 13 year old boy with brown hair and green eyes. The 8 tributes are unremarkable; both black-haired and tiny, one thirteen the other fourteen. Jade and Taret. The nine tributes are both 18 but skinny and underfed; Anya and Felin. From 10 a 16 year old girl with dark skin, and a crippled boy for whom I feel nothing but pity. The eleven tributes: A dark skinned black haired twelve year old who very obviously reminds Katniss of Prim. Her name is Rue. The other tribute from eleven looks like a career, big and stocky with black hair and dark skin. Then you see our reaping. I did a horrible job of disguising my terror. We look like we'll be killed in the bloodbath. We probably will.
Effie Trinket looks disgruntled. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior." I laugh. " He was drunk. He's drunk every year."
"Every day," Katniss adds, smirking. "Yes," Effie hisses. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. 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 schedule, Haymitch staggers inside. "I miss supper?" He asks. Then he vomits all over and fall unconscious in it. "So laugh away!" says Effie, and she walks out of the room.
Wonderful. Now I have to clean up this mess.
Oh… What's Peeta planning. Do whatever it takes to survive… Right?