Ch. 3
The moment the anthem ends, Poppy and I are seized by Peacekeepers on standby and marched into the rundown Justice Building. Its faded marble façade gleams in the bright midday sun, clearly defining the cracks that twirl up the wall and the chunks missing from the shadowed corners.
Once inside, I'm conducted into a room and left alone. It's a beautiful room although a bit musty. The drapes and furniture are made from the finest red velvet, and the carpet is deep and soft. I try to prepare myself for the next hour. It is all the time we have to say goodbye to our family and friends. I don't know if I can contain my tears much longer.
My mother and father come first. She's already crying, sobbing into a silk hankerchief. Her eyes are puffy and red, and I know she's been crying for a long time already. I have never seen her so saddened by anything; she has never shown this much affection to me before. She rushes to my side and wraps her arms around me, weeping on my shoulder. Unable to contain my sorrow any longer, I, too, begin to cry, dampening her fine dress with my tears. Why? Why is this happening to me? The odds were in my favor, I should not have been chosen.
My father is as silent and stoic as death. He wears a grim expression, but he will not cry. He is a man. My mother releases me as my father comes over. He pulls me into a tight hug, and I know he doesn't believe I can win this. Tears fall harder. This is our final goodbye; neither of them believes I will return. He thrusts a white paper package into my hands as the Peacekeeper comes to the door to tell them their time is up. I hold it close to my heart, knowing that this is the last time I may ever see my parents again. They are yanked out the door forcefully, and I can just make out as he's led away my fathers voice.
"I love you."
I am crying too hard to notice my next visitors, my brothers Aster and Heath as they enter the room silently. Heath holds me close while Aster stands at a distance with a drawn face. I hope he feels guilty. His little brother is being sent to his death and he didn't even lift a finger.
"Maybe you can win," Heath says quietly. I nod my head miserably, not really believing him. He strokes my hair comfortingly and continues. "You're strong. You're fast. You can do it." I don't respond.
Our time is up before I know it. Heath gives me one last reassuring squeeze before he is gone. Tears drip down my face as I sit on the couch, stroking the couch rhythmically, waiting for what lies in store for me next. I fervently hope Katniss will come visit me and say good-bye, but I know that is too good to be true. She probably doesn't even remember I exist.
It's a short ride from the Justice Building to the train station. I've never ridden in a car before. Poppy also is looking about wonderingly.
The train station has reporters and film crews scurrying about chaotically, all cameras trained directly on Poppy's and my tear stained faces. I catch a glimpse of myself on the television screen on the wall that's airing our arrival live and see that I look young and scared, eyes red and swollen from crying. I know I will look like a weakling to the rest of the tributes, but that is the least of my worries right now.
While we wait to be loaded onto the train, we are forced to stand in the doorway while the cameras buzz about us excitedly like pesky bees. Then we are allowed into the cool of the train, which begins to move immediately.
The speed initially takes my breath away and the ground is yanked from beneath our feet, causing us to jolt and nearly fall. Poppy latches on to me for support, and then, embarrassed, rights herself and hangs on to a railing on the wall of the train. Of course, I've never been on a train. Travelling is forbidden to any people who are not permitted by the Capitol. Even though I haven't experience a train before, I can still tell that this is much finer than our usual coal trains. It's a refurbished Capitol model luxury train that can average 250 miles per hour. I'm positive we will be in the capitol soon enough.
Our train is a big pile of fanciness. It's decorated in even more elaborate extravagance than the Justice Building was. Poppy and I both receive a bedroom with a small closet and a bathroom. The bathroom has both a shower and a bathtub, which is an extreme luxury, even for me as a fairly well off family.
Drawers overflow with every kind of garment imaginable, in every fabric, in every color. Anything I could ever want to wear. Effie skips from the room after announcing in a pompous voice that I can do anything I wish, ask for anything I wish, as long as I'm on time for dinner. I peel off my suffocating long pants and white shirt and take a hot shower. I've never had a shower before. It's rejuvenating, like standing in a warm summer rain. I dress in comfortable dark pants and a tan shirt.
Effie Trinket comes to collect me for supper. I follow her through the narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room with polished paneled walls. There's a table piled high with exquisite, highly breakable dishes. Poppy Glades sits waiting for us with a frightened expression commanding her face, the chair next to her empty. I wish I could go over there and comfort her, tell her that everything is all right. But it's not my place to, and everything is not okay.
"Where's Haymitch?" asks Effie Trinket brightly, taking the empty seat next to Poppy and placing her pristine white napkin in her lap.
Poppy mumbles something like "Nap" incoherently and stares at her hands neatly folded in her lap.
"Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Effie. I think she's relieved by Haymitch's absence, and who can blame her?
The supper comes in courses. A tender green salad begins the meal, followed by a thick vegetable and lamb stew, creamed corn, and thick slices of buttered bread. Not bread from our usual grain rations. Thick bakery bread, like what we sell in the bakery. Desert is a rich chocolate cake with raspberry ice cream and large, juicy berries. Neither Poppy nor I have ever seen so much rich food in one place at one time and by the time desert arrives, I've eaten at least two servings of everything. I continue to stuff myself until I'm full to bursting. Poppy eats a surprising amount for such a small little thing. We've never had food like this, so good and so much, and we could both use a few pounds, especially Poppy.
Effie attempts to make conversation with us, but our mouths are too full to reply, and so we sit there scarfing down dinner in an awkward silence. After the meal's over, I'm fighting to keep the food down. From Poppy's expression, so is she. Neither of us are used to such rich fare, even though I am from the square.
As the servants begin to clear away our plates, we are ushered into a plush compartment to watch a replay of all the reapings. I carefully take note of who will be our competition. The District 1 tributes are all prettied up, smiling seductively at the cameras. A monstrous and devious pair of tributes from District 2. A huge boy from District 11. And a tiny girl from 11 who looks about Poppy's age.
Last of all, they show District 12. Me being chosen. Then Freesia being chosen, Poppy running forward to take her place. You can't miss the desperation in her tiny wisp of a voice as she shoves the child behind her, as if she's afraid no one will hear and they'll take the younger girl away. I glance over at Poppy and see her bottom lip quivering; she's holding back tears. I turn back to the television. As if on cue, Haymitch falls off the stage, drawing a small smile from the trembling child next to me. I shake hands with Poppy. The screen fades to black.
Effie is complaining about the manners of the amusing Haymitch. For some reason I find this hilarious and burst out laughing. I recall past years when Haymitch threw up onstage, when he tried to sit down in his chair and missed, and one year when he didn't even show up. He always provides a bit of amusement on the mournful day. "He was drunk," I explain. "He's drunk every year."
"Every day," Poppy chortles through the tears assembling in the corners of her eyes. I can't help smirking a little. Effie makes it sound like Haymitch is a young child who needs tutoring from her to make him a perfect gentleman.
Effie frowns comically, the corners of her pink mouth pulled down. "He is all you have in the games. I wouldn't find it amusing if he was the bridge between my life and death."
Just then Haymitch lurches into the compartment muttering uncomprehensively, slurring his words beyond comprehension. He totters about for a second longer before vomiting all over the expensive carpet, slipping, and plunging into the pool at his feet unconscious.
Effie shoots us a "see what I mean" look and flees the room, leaving us alone with our wasted mentor.