Wake up! Wake up!" I jolt awake to Effie shrieking enthusiastically in my ear. "Today is a big, big, big day!"
Exasperated, I groan and stretch, lifting myself out of bed to appease her. "Alright, alright, I'm getting up."
"Good," she says. "In that case, I'm going to get started on my duties for the day."
"Mmmm…" I groan again, just to prove how tired I am to her. "You do that."
"And you get out of bed, Mr. Mellark! I don't have to want to remind you again!"
I wait until she scampers away, listening to her high heels clicking all the way through the Penthouse. Then, I flop back down and stare at the emptiness engulfing most of the bed. I realize I've never had anyone to share a bed with. To share myself with. I've dreamed that Katniss would someday grant me that, but she's barely said a word to me since the Reaping. But I figure laying here, brooding over unrequited love is pretty self-destructive. I mean, if she doesn't feel the same way, clearly, I should just move on. The only problem is, there's nothing to move on to. I'll be dead in a matter of days, without even a first kiss. So, why should it matter?
The scent of savory meat coaxes me out of bed as I walk to the dining room for breakfast. Roast duck, apple turnovers and vegetable fritters sit on the table, just waiting to be devoured. I sit down, my mouth watering right up to my first bite. Effie is eating with utmost etiquette, being careful not to soil her flouncy fuchsia gown. Katniss, however, is shoveling forkfuls of food into her mouth as if she'll never eat again. Bits of stray food fall from her mouth to her lap, which causes Effie's painted face to scrunch in disgust. It's funny how mannerly Effie is, and she of all people has to mentor Katniss, whose etiquette isn't much better than that of a caveman. Haymitch is surprisingly sober, sitting upright and using table manners. It's nice to see him act civil for once.
"Now," he begins, sternly. "Today is the first day of your physical training sessions with the other Tributes. You'll be going down to the Training Pavilion. Avoid showing them your strengths, 'cause they'll try and top them. Katniss, that means you avoid the archery station. Peeta, avoid the weight station."
We both nod our heads in agreement, not wanting to let words spoil the delicacy we're tasting. Haymitch seems to catch onto this, as he decides to engulf his meal in pleasure instead of discussing what's ahead. Because, during the Games, food won't come so easily. I guess it's best to savor it while you have it. The bulk of Katniss' plate has mostly disappeared, and she's slowing her consumption. The harsh scowl worn on her face tells me that she's in a less than amiable mood. I avoid talking to her, eating my breakfast in a meek silence. I try to visualize the arena: the cries of pain and torture that derive from the initial bloodbath, Cato ruthlessly murdering everything in sight... I shudder, remembering his words from yesterday, probing me to meet him while training. My stomach churns. Even though I was abused at home, at least the beatings from my parents carried a note of mercy. If he wants to rough me up, this guy won't stop until I'm out cold. I don't want any sponsors to know about this, or else they could send in Peacekeepers for supervision or even worse, confront Cato. With that kind of conflict at hand, he'd be angry, and immediately take my life in the arena out of resent.
When breakfast is finished, Effie assigns us black and red training uniforms with our District numbers worn on the sleeve. I laugh when I look in the mirror; these shirts look more suitable to middle-aged recreational bowlers than amateur warriors. I wish with all my heart we were only bowling.
Haymitch and Katniss are waiting for me by the elevator, where we step inside. He presses the "B" button for the basement, which lies far below ground level. He begins to instruct us as we descend. "Now I was originally going to pin you two side by side, but I'm going to let you train separately. I think you already know each others' skills, and you two need to focus on your training, not on each other's presence."
"Alright," I say reluctantly. "But we don't have to avoid each other either, right?"
"Not at all." Haymitch replies. "But there will be a dinner tonight where all of the Tributes and Gamemakers will dine together. I encourage you to mingle. Make a good impression on them, if they have any hearts at all they'd have a harder time killing you."
Not Cato, I think to myself. I'm sure he's just as much of a heartless brute as he comes off as. The doors open, unveiling a huge, sectioned gym where the rest of the Tributes are already training. I find a raven-haired girl throwing knives into the chests of gauze dummies, hitting the target precisely with each throw. I tense up. Another tribute, who is extremely large, beats a punching bag until it flies off the hinges. I nervously scan the room for Cato, and I find him almost immediately.
"Damnit, where's my sword?" He yells at a Peacekeeper, who looks a bit intimidated by Cato's size and temper. "I fucking set it down here, you liar! You took it!"
He begins to push and threaten the Peacekeeper, which is halfway amusing and half frightening. His veins pulse indignantly and sweat beads down his forehead from rage. Although I gulp, feeling subdued and inferior, his temperament doesn't surprise me. I'm very accustomed to outbursts back home, and it's stereotypical for Careers to act domineering and imperialistic. Despite my intimidation of him, I've always admired people with confidence to voice what their needs are, even if it's a bit poorly controlled. I also notice a frail, young girl of African descent peering at Katniss and I from behind a corner. The look on her face is both curious and reverent. I nudge Katniss.
"I think you have a shadow."
Katniss looks in the direction of the girl and smiles. I look around at all of the different stations. Spear throwing, wrestling, knot tying, the list goes on.
"Peeta," I hear her hushed voice behind me, pointing at a weighted ball. "The Careers are sizing you up like bait. Throw that weight over there."
My head spins around almost involuntarily. Surely enough, four Career tributes stand at a distance, studying me. A smirking boy, the knife-thrower, and a blonde girl seductively sticking her chest out are expectantly glaring at me, crossing their arms. Their eyes are pinning me down. I break eye contact, looking at Katniss again.
"But didn't Haymitch-" I begin.
"Forget about it. They think you're weak!" She says sharply, turning away.
I remember my promise to stay strong for her, and glance back at the Careers. Cato has just walked over to join them, standing as the alpha male in front. He's calmed down, and his face is more curious than patronizing like that of the other tributes. I maintain eye contact with him, until I find myself slowly unracking the ball weight. It seems to weighs about 100 lbs, but I lift it without a hint of difficulty, then send it soaring into a steel quiver of arrows. They scatter on the ground, clanging loudly all over the floor. I look back at Cato. I can feel my facial expression beg for their approval. The other three Tributes haughtily raise their eyebrows and walk away. I realize that Katniss did not stay to watch this nonverbal showdown; she's already disappeared to a different sect of the gym to practice something she sucks at. Cato walks directly over to me with the same confident step as last night. I freeze, bracing myself.
"You're pretty strong for an outlying district." He says, with a surprisingly calm essence.
I feel myself tremble, even under the calm exterior, but I try to hide it. "Thanks, used to always lift and throw good-sized flour bags back at home."
Cato raises an eyebrow. "Flour sacks?"
"I lived in a bakery." I expect a cocky remark, and maybe a fist in my face, but instead he nods cordially.
"Damn."
Our conversation cuts to a brief silence, the awkwardness masked by my pretending to study the other Tributes. Maybe he doesn't intend to injure me before the Games. It's against the rules to, anyway.
"Let's check out the camoflauge station."
"Alright." I agree, trying not to sound eager or nervous. I remember what Haymitch said about concealing our strengths from the opponent's eye, and art happens to be a strong point of mine. We walk to the vacant station, surveying the materials; textured paint, clay, berries, brushes and tree replicas for reference. I decide to paint a careless tree branch on my arm.
"So who's the girl you came with?" I ask, trying to make conversation.
"The one throwing knives. Her name's Clove." He responds, balancing talking and slowly brushing in a poorly drawn leaf on his hand. "You're a pretty good painter."
Damn. I was trying not to give myself away. "Thanks."
Cato looks around the station room, making sure we're still in solitude. "Say, you seem like a pretty strong kid for an outlying District."
"...Thanks." I say. I mentally cross my fingers, hoping he isn't going to pick a fight.
"None of the other Careers are good painters."
"It's something you're born with, I guess."
We work in a pensive silence. I have no idea what is going through his mind, why he's even talking to me, or what he's aiming at. My guess is that he's trying to learn my strengths in order to gain insight on how to defeat me in the arena. As much as the Games are being talked about and prepared for, it still feels so surreal to me. I feel like somehow, I'm just envisioning a horrible daydream. That I'm still at home, icing cakes in the bakery, thinking up a tragic fantasy.
"I'm going to the sword station." He breaks through the quiet of the iron curtain. "I'll see you at dinner."
"Alright, see you then." I say, politely as possible.
When I hear his footsteps echo quietly out of the room, I begin painting a branch on my arm to the best of my ability. Within seconds, Katniss walks in. She stands over me, watching me discolor my skin. I'm almost finished.
"How'd you learn to do that?" she asks.
"It's just like icing cakes." I hold my arm up to the tree to show her the resemblance.
She intently watches me make the final touches. I'm not sure what to say to her, or if I should even mention my encounter with Cato. I certainly don't want her to think I'm giving myself away, or collaborating with the enemy against her in the Games. When I finally finish, I wash the thick, goopy material off my arm and stay by Katniss' side until dinner. We train quietly and impersonally, the only words we exchange pertaining strictly to our duties. Questions regarding Cato flash across my mind. What does he want to attain by talking to me? What did I do to him to make him target me? How will he use any of my strengths he witnessed against me?
While Katniss and I are walking to the spear station, the bell rings. The gym stops silent as a robotic voice informs us that dinner is being served at the banquet hall on the floor directly above.
"You put in some hard work today, Katniss." I say.
For the first time since we arrived, she smiles gently. "So did you."
Each Tribute lines up to board the elevator, which is quite small. Only about four people can fit inside, so it takes about six trips to transport everybody up. Nobody says a word while waiting, the silence so thick one could cut through it. Katniss and I are last in line, standing behind a pair of tall and lanky Tributes from District Seven.
When we reach the banquet hall, I find it much like a rich and flamboyant school cafeteria. Three long, rectangular tables sit in the midst of a ballroom-sized floor. On each table lies twenty-four chrome plates, silverware sets and a blue marble vase that holds sickeningly fragrant roses. I feel out of place having come to such an occasion still wearing my sweaty training uniform, but everyone else is wearing the same thing. Some of the Tributes begin seating themselves at the table. I remember Haymitch advising us to mingle, so Katniss and I join them, agreeing to take seats at opposite ends of the table. I look down at my plate. It's so shiny I can see my reflection. Back in Twelve, no one could afford plates. We ate our food directly off of the table. I'm sure Effie would find the table manners there beyond repulsive. Just thinking about her setting foot into someplace like the Hob makes me chuckle.
"Hey Twelve." says a familiar voice across from me.
I look up to see Cato, wearing his signature smirky smile.
"H-Hey." I fumble with the tablecloth in my lap, trying not to manifest fear on my face. I try to make conversation. Think, Peeta. Think of something to say...
"This is a really nice banquet hall, don't you think?"
Gosh, I'm about to slap myself over how stupid that sounded.
He sits back, crossing his arms. "Yeah, the ones in District Two don't touch this."
"You guys have banquet halls?"
"Only in our Justice Building." He says, cordially. "We used to tour it annually in school."
"I've only been in ours once, but that's neat."
He looks to over to his right. The Gamemakers have entered, adorned in flowing purple gowns. Every Career aside from Cato flocks around them, desperately trying to be friendly and win their sympathy. I honestly don't want to talk to them, even if Haymitch told me to. They're setting the stage for my death, regardless of how much I impress them. I begin to loosen up, seeing that Cato really isn't going to hurt me, at least not at this moment. In fact, sitting across from me, he just looks like a normal eighteen-year old boy, not the bloodthirsty maniac I predetermined him to be.
He leans closer to the middle of the table. "Hey, I have a proposition for you."
A proposition? "What is it?" I ask.
"Well, the other Careers are pretty weak this year. I was wondering... if maybe, you'd like to join our alliance in the Games? Y'know, we can all fight together for a while."
I look over at Katniss. Lonely, defenseless Katniss, who isn't talking to anyone, but stares into her plate as if she could see the entire world in it. Maybe I could protect her using the collaboration with the wealthier Tributes by leading them away from her. I could probably keep myself alive longer as well.
I hesitate before agreeing. "Alright, I guess that sounds okay."
Cato smiles, appeased. "I'm glad you agree."
The doors to the kitchen burst open as six frantic Avoxes push carts of decadent roast beef, corn rolls and stewed vegetables to each of the tables. The rest of the Careers sit down around Cato and I, making me stand out like a sore thumb as the only outlying District Tribute in their vicinity. Sitting by Cato is the blonde girl and a pair of Tributes from District Three. I am sandwiched between the District One boy and Clove.
"Hey Clove, we've got a new ally." He says, nodding his head in my direction.
Clove and I make what has to be the most awkward eye contact I've ever been subject to. She stares at me with a glare reminding me of a toddler eyeing a strange food before taking a bite. I have no idea what expression to make, so I politely smile, trying to hold in laughter at how funny her face looks.
"I guess he looks capable," she says, reaching for my hand. "I'm Clove."
I shake her hand gently, and she does the same. To my surprise, she smiles at me. "My name's Peeta."
An Avox girl dashes around the table with the cart, and begins to spoon generous helpings of food onto each of our plates. If it weren't for the Peacekeepers standing at all four corners of the room, I would thank her, but by Capitol rules, Tributes are forbidden to speak to Avoxes. Avoxes may look like normal, redheaded people at first glance, but once they open their mouths, they are no longer normal. In the past, each one's committed a crime and had their tongues gauged out by the Capitol, who turns them into speechless servants. Another example to show how fucked up the Capitol is. But really, how awful and magnificent it would be to not have a tongue. We could easily stray away from saying the things we'd regret, but then again, never be able to say anything at all.
Everyone in the room immediately begins to eat, but the blonde girl sitting next to Cato leans her head on his shoulder, grasping his bicep.
"Mmm," she purrs, "you're definitely built to my liking."
Cato jerks his shoulder and pushes her away. "Oh, fuck off, Glimmer."
She vengefully glares at him before reverting her attention quickly to me. Her face morphs from a bitter frown to a sugary smile. "You're kind of cute," she says, contorting her lip to a pout.
"Um, thanks I guess." I awkwardly take a bite of my corn roll. Truthfully, I'm already sickened by her promiscuous first impression, and I don't find her anywhere near attractive. Her face is hidden by thick layers of makeup and her green eyes are barely visible through her false eyelashes.
"That's Marvel, sitting beside you." she says, gazing wishfully at him.
"It's nice to meet you, Peeta." he says, crisply shaking my hand.
Unlike the others, he seems like the only one here accustomed to social norms, even more than myself. "It's nice to meet you too."
I look around the table of Tributes. Each of them, even Cato, are using perfect table manners. I pick up my fork and stab a single carrot and proceed to feed myself as if the way I ate were being televised all through out Panem. This is officially the most uncomfortable dinner I've ever had in all of my sixteen years.
"So when did all of you meet?" I ask Cato, breaking the ice a bit.
He holds up his hand to signify food in his mouth, then swallows it quickly. "We met yesterday at the Parade, decided to train together today."
"That's nice." I say, returning my attention to my roast.
For the rest of dinner, Clove and I say nothing, but laugh to ourselves as Glimmer bounces her flirting between Marvel and Cato, who both make it clear that she's annoying them. Unfortunately, she continues to make a fool of herself by persisting. Occasionally, Cato and I meet eyes and quietly chuckle at her. I look behind me and find that all of our mentors have snuck in and are seated at one of the tables. Effie is chuckling heartily, enjoying spirits with Haymitch and a few others. I quickly register that Haymitch's eyes are glued to me, the expression on his face is vexed. He shouldn't be disconcerted, as he's the one who told us to mingle in the first place. I look at Katniss, who is sitting beside the same small girl who admired her from behind the corner. The two of them are chatting, both of them smiling. Nobody seems to mind.
Everyone seems to rise from their table in unison a few minutes after I've consumed my last bite. I shake hands with the Careers cordially. Glimmer hangs onto my hand for a bit too long, not hesitant to maintain eye contact as she tells me what a joy it was to have met me. Cato grasps my hand very firmly, thanking me for sitting with him. Clove and Marvel say nothing, but smile politely. Soon, Haymitch, Effie and Katniss join me and we walk silently back to the elevator.
I gulp hard, staring down at the bustling city below. I decide not to tell Katniss about my allies.