Author's Note: Thank you SO much for the kind reviews! They inspire me so much, even a few simple words of criticism or praise can uplift me a ton!
I see fire surrounding me. I smell the haze of smoke as the rapid flames swallow each loaf of carefully prepared bread, turning them black as coal before disintegrating. The sign that tells passers-by that this is the Mellark's Bakery burns to a bitter ash. The smell of burning flesh nauseates me.
"Peeta!" I hear a voice call to me. I see Katniss, standing weakly in the plumes. I stagger over to her, in my most desparate attempt to save her. "Peeta!"
"Peeta, wake up this instant!" Effie yells, nudging me awake. She's leaning over me, her powder pink curls are hanging limply and her candy purple lips are pursed in annoyance. I lean up, and stretch, trying my best to hide the fear on my face that's manifesting in perspiration. Recognizing that it was simply a nightmare, I reassure myself by identifying every object in the room. I heave a relieved sigh. Maybe I'm just getting used to the fact that Katniss and I will never live like we did before. There's only one victor to the Games, but when one of us dies, it's going to be me. I promise myself that I'll be a corner stone for her victory, whatever the cost. I'm going to be strong and make it through another day.
"Peeta, you really need to start waking yourself up from now on." Effie nags, tapping her foot.
I yawn. "Yeah, I guess."
"The scoring is this afternoon, Peeta, and I need you well rested to perform well." she nags. "Come have breakfast when you're ready."
"Alright."
I don't even bother to take a shower this morning, because I'm just going to get all sweaty while training. Instead, I prepare myself for the day by sitting down to a giant meal of corned beef sandwiches and butternut squash in a sour sauce. The meals here are so creatively designed and prepared, I have to admit, their chef easily dominates my family in the realm of culinary art.
"I'm pretty impressed by you guys." Haymitch says gruffly, biting into a sandwich and tearing it off with his teeth. "Katniss, make sure you show the Gamemakers your archery skills. Peeta, toss some weights around. Paint something maybe. Whatever the case, make sure you guys rank above a seven."
"Aren't we going to go back to the Training Center before?" Katniss asks.
"Only for about an hour. Use that time to warm up." he replies, his mouth stuffed with food.
After we finish the rest of our meal in a frigid silence, Katniss and I board the elevator once more. We both stare down at our feet for a few wordless moments, just unnerving ourselves from the ample pressure of being compared and ranked against the other Tributes.
"Peeta, you're strong. Keep going." She breaks the silence, instructing me in a calm voice that reassures. "Don't let yourself down today."
"Thank you, Katniss." I can't help but smile. This is the kindest thing she's ever said or done since as far back as... Well, as far as my memory spans. I feel a ray of esteem shine down on the darkness of the situation. It's the closest thing to affection I've been given in years. The elevator dings as we walk into the gym, parting the same way we did yesterday, agreeing to meet again here when we're through. I wait until she's out of my sight to scope out the Careers again. As glad as I am that Katniss is noticing me, I must remember my goal: to think of a strategy to protect her.
I find Marvel and Glimmer lifting weights. They must not be sore from yesterday. They barely did anything, but I feel bruised and worn from the exertion. It's so peculiar how Glimmer doesn't even seem to care about the Games, flirting lightheartedly with the other Tributes. Either she really isn't aware of her circumstance, or she's developing a strategy to fool everyone somehow. I wander around the gym, both patrolling for Cato and Clove, and keeping guard against Katniss. Finally, I find Cato oiling his biceps on a wrestling mat. I watch him for a few minutes, wondering who will be the one killing him in the arena. He flexes, shimmering from the oil. I almost pity him for the amount of pride he invests in himself in a time like this. But he taught me how to fight, and was really the only one who made me feel welcome here. I wish I wasn't so sensitive with people, even under a truly insensitive circumstance.
I can't kill him.
Within a few minutes he notices me. His trademark smirk finds its way to his face.
"Hey, I want to wrestle," he says, crossing his arms. "and I need a partner."
"Alright," I say, pulling up my sleeves and accepting his challenge. "Let's do this."
I lubricate myself with the oil before stepping onto the mat. Cato instantly awes me with his strength, our hands interwined as we try to push one another to the floor. I watch his icy blue eyes size me up, his sweat intermingling with oil. Finally, my muscles give way as we topple to the ground. His hot and heavy body is almost suffocating me, and our chests pound against each other. He could kill me like this if he really wanted to. His head is slightly ducked in, and he's breathing heavily on my neck. It feels ticklish, but it'd be too sissy to even wince, let alone laugh. He leans up to face me.
"I win." he says playfully, his eyes pinning me down just as much as the rest of him. It takes me a while to register how weird this must look to anyone around.
"Yeah, I'll give you that." I say.
Almost simultaneously, we look to our right. Glimmer and Clove are standing at the edge of the mat, and just as I thought, critically glaring.
"Guess you found yourself a little target, Cato." Glimmer remarks.
Clove and Glimmer giggle as Cato removes himself from me. I inhale deeply. It feels nice to have my airways open again.
"Stop patronizing me, damn you. I'm not going to kill him." he barks.
"I can wrestle too, you know." She says, wiggling her hips sexily. I realize that Clove's quiet presence seems to serve no purpose but to back Glimmer and her taunts. Cato laughs bitterly.
"No thanks." He says boastfully. "I'd kill you in a much less personal way."
Glimmer returns his bitter laugh. Even though I have no idea what they're joking about, I don't think it's funny at all. How could anyone stare into the face of someone they intend to kill, and laugh? Even worse, how could they both take it so lightheartedly? Maybe it's just an inside joke, I guess I should probably be more open-minded.
Cato pats me on the back. "Good job."
"Thanks, you too." I reply.
Him, Clove and I sit down and watch Marvel and Glimmer wrestle, which proves to be very interesting. Marvel tries his hardest to be respectful and not touch her as much as possible, but she does the opposite, grabbing a handful of his back side whenever she gets the chance. I'm not sure how to react. Clove is hooting and laughing hysterically, but Cato's face is pensive and he watches without a sound. Finally, Marvel stops being merciful and pins her down, ending the awkward match.
"Glimmer, you're such a skank!" Clove teases.
Glimmer laughs, undaunted by the hurtful word.
"Yeah, she could kill someone by grabbing their ass enough if she wanted." Marvel says. Clove laughs, and for some reason I do as well, but Cato remains eerily silent.
Before anyone can question why, the intercom releases static, which precedes the order to attend to the Gamemaker's chambers for the scoring.
"District One goes first. Guess I'm off to show them my strengths." Glimmer says, heading toward the exit. "See you, boys."
"Don't grope the Gamemakers!" Marvel teases, walking beside her.
Cato nudges me in the arm. "Hey, good luck."
"You too." I wait until he and Clove begin walking away to the elevator and wait for Katniss. When we meet, we walk into the same door the Careers previously entered. She and I sit down together in the private chamber reserved for District 12.
"Ready?" She asks, staring straight ahead.
"No, but it doesn't change the fact it's going to happen. Are you?" I ask.
Her face is blank. "I guess."
We sit in silence for what seems like hours. It's difficult to believe that this melancholy girl is the same one that called me strong earlier and made my whole day.
"Peeta Mellark." The voice over the intercom finally calls my name. I enter the room and straighten my posture.
"Peeta Mellark, District 12." I introduce myself in a mechanical voice, almost mimicking the intercom. The Gamemakers sit on the stage, preparing a bountiful feast, which if you ask me, is timed inappropriately. They watch intently as I move to the left side of the room with the weight rack. Wooden dummies sit at the opposing wall, and I spark an idea. I slowly unrack the two-hundred pound ball weight, and hurl it full speed across the room, breaking the wooden dummy into a series of planks. I nod courteously and leave as they whisper among themselves, scratching things down in notepads.
As I am leaving, Katniss enters. I whisper "good luck" in passing, although I don't think she hears me. I walk out of the chamber and back into the Training Pavilion. It's vacant, dark, and a bit creepy, so I decide to wait for Katniss back in the Penthouse. There's a single light above the elevator, so I let it guide me as I run full speed to it. I've always been afraid of quiet darkness. When the doors ding and roll open, I see a much brighter, populated and bubbly room. Sighing in relief, I see that Cinna is visiting our floor. He really is so much more involved and engaged in his work than Portia is, taking time to know the person he's designing costumes for. He, Effie and Haymitch are seated on the shapy, asymetrical chairs in front of a large television screen.
"When Katniss comes up here, we'll be able to see your scores!" Effie squeaks, a bit too cheery for the occasion.
I take a seat on the couch. The doors of the elevator reopen in a matter of seconds, revealing Katniss who looks flushed and scared.
"What'd you show 'em, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks her.
"I...shot the apple out of their roast pig's mouth."
We remain bewildered at her boldness as she explains her story. Apparently, the Gamemakers did not pay attention to her after she missed a single arrow, so she shot their apple, sarcastically thanking them for their attention. Haymitch chuckles. Effie's eyes double in size. "
You what! Katniss, do you understand how bad this makes us look!"
Before she has the chance to answer, the live coverage of the Games that presents the scores begins. Caesar Flickerman, televised host of the Games, introduces the program with his theatrical voice, explaining the scoring practice. When they begin to scroll through the Tributes in order of District, I see that Cato has received a score of 10. I guess it's well-deserved. I can't help but feel a slight bit threatened and dominated by him, even though he is expressing mercy by being so kind. I feel like there's something he's hiding, like he's scheming a strategic approach to kill me. But I'm honestly not very afraid of succumbing to his respect, because it's not like I'll return a victor. Besides, in Games past, everyone seems to target the cocky and rude Tributes first. If nothing else, I'll prolong my life for a few days.
Before I know it, Caesar calls my name. Effie, Cinna and Haymitch are engrossed, hanging on every sound and image on the screen.
"Peeta Mellark, with a score of 8" he says proudly.
Cinna and my mentors congratulate me quickly before returning their attention to oh-so-capable Katniss. We retreat to silence for her name to be called.
"And finally, Katniss Everdeen, with a score of..." Caesar pauses, his eyebrows raised. "... Eleven."
Even though I'm really not feeling it, we immediately break into celebration and surround the victor-to-be. I'm undeniably jealous, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to protect her. I admire her so deeply, that sometimes I begin to wonder if that's all my feelings truly consist of. Admiration.
Later in my room, I stare out the window, replaying the events of the day. I'm probably the last one awake on this floor, sighing in relief that the day is finally done. A stray hair falls into my eye, so I push it back onto my head, running my fingers through the rest of it. They run down the back of my head until they reach my neck. I remember wrestling, and as much as I don't want to admit it, I remember how good it felt to be tickled by breathing on my neck. Maybe it's because I've never experienced physical affection of any sort. I've never even had my first kiss. I've been turned down by every girl I've ever asked out. But obviously, Cato's a guy, and I'm sure he meant nothing by breathing on my neck. Or by lingering on top of me. But, it felt really good to feel someone else, anyone else, so close to me. I shut these thoughts out of my mind, concluding that wrestling is simply a very intimate sport. Katniss once again creeps into my mind. The wave of rejection and hopelessness of our situation crashes over me, twisting in my belly. Now that it'll be near impossible to sleep tonight, I decide to explore the Tribute Tower. It'll probably be both the first and last time I get to see it. Stealthily, I open the door of my room, sneaking down the hall to the elevator. My footsteps are a bit too loud, but no one wakes up indignant because of it. Once I am inside the glass tube, I stare at the rows of buttons on the wall. Which one to press? I'm not into visiting the other Tributes' rooms. I decide to visit the floor above the Penthouse, which what I've been told is the observatory room that overlooks the entire Capitol skyline. I press the "OBSRV" button, and the city begins to shrink below my feet.