I woke up early, blinking as the sun blared from the window. There was a persistent pounding on the door. I pulled myself out of the bed and walked groggily down the stairs yawning. I pulled the door open and wasn't surprised to see Haymitch standing there.
"Morning," I sang, walking into my kitchen. Haymitch sat down in the dining room while I picked up an apple from the kitchen. I walked in to join him at my table. My hands turned the apple around and around in my hands, and Haymitch must've noticed.
"You're not going in alone, sweetheart," Haymitch muttered almost kindly.
I nodded, "I know. Peeta's going to be there." My head lowered. I felt ashamed; Peeta had to be my fellow tribute again. We had finally gotten rid of all the cameras, but now he would have to act for me all over again. I knew he was acting for sure now. He was thinking about Katniss last night.
Peeta was undoubtedly the best person I knew. He deserved to live more than anyone. I wished someone else could be in the Games, so Peeta could survive. Suddenly, my head jerked up to Haymitch. A living victor from the Hunger Games.
"Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart?" Haymitch mumbled, a little sad.
"Peeta doesn't have to go in. You… you have to take his place if he's chosen!" I cried, reaching across the table to grab Haymitch's arm. He moved it out of the way just as my fingers brushed his sleeve. I brought my hand back towards me, curling it up into a small fist, embarrassed.
"Why should I even consider going back to that hell, Ivy?" he asked, deadly serious. I gulped and felt tears well up in my eyes.
"Because Peeta shouldn't have to go back. He deserves life more than either of us, and you know it!" I shouted. "We're alone anyways. We have nothing to lose."
"But each other," Haymitch stated.
"But that's all we have. Peeta has so much more," I whispered desperately. I still had a family of course. But it was a family that cared nothing for me. Peeta had Katniss and painting and a life. I bet he didn't mope around his house all day. He probably did things. He probably lived.
"What if he wants to protect you?" Haymitch pointed out.
"I want to protect him more," I stated right away. Haymitch shook his head and laughed. "What?" I hissed, annoyed that Haymitch found this funny.
"He had said the same thing. I talked to him earlier. He said the same thing. He wants to protect you more. And I'm going to tell you exactly what I told him," Haymitch leaned in closer.
"And what was that?"
"He could leave a hundred lifetimes, and not deserve you," Haymitch muttered with a smile. I frowned.
"Yes, because he deserves better," I muttered, tugging at my hair. Haymitch looked like he wanted to argue, but he made no sign of speaking.
"It won't matter. If my name is called, he'll volunteer for me," Haymitch said. I cursed to myself, not even having thought of that. I only had a fifty-fifty chance of saving Peeta at the Reaping.
"Then promise you'll volunteer for him if his name is called," I told him, "Promise me, Haymitch."
"Alright, alright. No need to get threatening, sweetheart," Haymitch said. My head started spinning. I wasn't the strongest victor, and I probably had the smallest chances of surviving. But I was going to make sure Peeta came out of these Games alive. No matter what.
A couple of days later, I walked over to Haymitch's house. He was lying on the couch, groaning. I walked up and poked him with my finger. He shot up from the lying position and stuck a knife in my face.
"Oh, sweetheart. It's just you," he slurred. Not only was he half asleep, he was also drunk.
"It's daytime, who would be out to kill you now?" I asked. Then I remembered that Haymitch always slept with a knife, and he never slept at night. His nightmares from the Games had caused that I guess.
Peeta came running down the stairs and threw a giant box on the ground. I heard glass shattering and turned to see what he had thrown. It was a crate full of empty liquor bottles. Unconsciously, I took a couple feet away from Peeta, wary. And I was suddenly full of sadness that his thoughts were still of Katniss. It had almost seemed like maybe he actually loved me back.
"I drained all the bottles," Peeta said.
"What?" Haymitch yelled angrily. He got up quickly and marched up to Peeta, tilting a little to the left because of his drunkenness.
"I tossed," Peeta said with a grin, "the lot."
Haymitch grabbed Peeta's collar and looked like he was about to run him through the knife, but I stepped up quickly and pulled Peeta away from Haymitch. I stood between them, praying Haymitch wouldn't stab me to get to Peeta. Quickly, I let go of Peeta, not wanting to hold on for too long.
"It's none of your business what I drink, kid," Haymitch spat. Peeta shoved around me to be face to face with the drunk.
"It's my business now. Whatever happens, two of us are going back to the arena with the other one mentoring," Peeta said with a solemn look on his face. "And two of us are coming home. The mentor and a victor."
"So why does this mean I can't drink," Haymitch sputtered. Peeta's chest puffed up as he continued.
"We're going to train. We need to gain weight and muscle. I'm going to ask Effie to send me recordings of the old Games, and we can learn how the other victors can fight. One of us is going to win," Peeta said convincingly. I almost smiled.
"What, you mean… act like Careers?" I asked. Peeta smiled at me.
"Exactly," he replied.
"It'd never work, boy," Haymitch stated, "Ivy and I can't train."
Peeta's cheeks flared with an angry blush. "Watch us. Come on, Ivy." Peeta grabbed my hand and led me outside, before slamming the door shut, he leaned in and shouted, "Don't wait up, Haymitch."
"I think Haymitch is right. I'm not strong enough to train," I muttered the word in a scared tone. Training wasn't technically allowed. I suddenly wondered if heartbeats could be felt in hands, because my heart sped up to an unnatural speed, and I didn't want Peeta feeling it. And our hands were still clasped together.
"I think you're the strongest of the three of us," Peeta answered. He began to lead us to his house.
"Says the boy who had to carry me around for most of our Games," I said, nudging his arm with my shoulder. Peeta chuckled. I found myself still frowning slightly.
"Maybe not physically strong, but you're mentally strong," he said.
I didn't answer Peeta, but I knew he was wrong. I still had nightmares about Rue. I couldn't stop feeling angry with myself for killing Marvel. How was I mentally strong when their deaths haunted me? Peeta pulled me into his house and shut the door, still angry with Haymitch.
"I don't think he'll be joining us tonight," I said. Peeta tried to smile.
"I don't think I want him to. Not right now at least," he said, the blush fading from his cheeks.
"So, you really mean it. You want to train?" I asked. Peeta nodded and crossed his arms. I could see his biceps and realized he didn't really need to train. He thought I needed to train, since I was for sure going to be a tribute.
"I think we need to. You need to come home," he said simply, like it was a fact. I crossed my arms as well, mirroring Peeta.
"What if I don't want to?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. He took it as a challenge. He shook his head like a disappointed father, looking at me with sad eyes. I couldn't help but notice how dull his eyes were lately. Not bright like they used to be. Maybe he was more broken than he let on. I wondered if he did it for my sake?
"Don't create fights where fights don't need to be made, Ivy," was all he said.
"I think this is a very good fight, since we are both aware of what the other is planning," I said, uncrossing my arms as he uncrossed his.
"Ivy, you don't have to believe me, but you're the one coming home. And there's nothing that can stop that," he murmured.
"I can stop it," I pointed out. Peeta gave a loud sigh.
"If you don't train to win, I won't train to win," he smirked. I gave a heavy sigh, but decided to train. For Peeta's sake.
*A/N Only a couple more chapters before the Games. I'm excited to write another arena. Hopefully, or maybe not hopefully, Ivy will be in the battles more this time round!*