Haymitch, Peeta, and I began to train everyday. We started by running around the district. Peeta and I stayed at about an even pace with each other the whole time, but Haymitch, who had decided to join us after all, lagged behind by about half an hour. I wasn't even sure if he actually ran or just strolled through town casually.
Then we would throw knives at my house. Peeta decided that knives were the most basic weapons, and we should all know how to throw one effectively. I found I could still throw knives with a little accuracy, but Peeta and Haymitch needed more practice. I was a terrible teacher, but after a couple of tries, Peeta could hit a target. It took Haymitch a little longer; I thought that a man who slept with a knife would be able to hit the side of a house.
At night, Peeta, Haymitch, and I would sit on the couch in Peeta's living room and watch the Hunger Games of living victors. Haymitch would talk about their personalities, and slowly, we began to know our competition, though I still didn't feel confident about myself ever winning. But that didn't matter, considering Peeta needed to win. I didn't need to worry about myself. Only him.
Haymitch decided not to join us one night. I walked up to Peeta's door and knocked. He opened the door with a frown. Just seeing Peeta made my stomach flutter. These past couple of weeks have been so full of training that all possible romantic feelings towards each other have given way to feelings of survival. I hadn't truly gotten any moments alone with Peeta in a long time. And now that I did, I had no clue what would happen.
"Haymitch is skipping tonight," he muttered as I walked past him.
All I muttered was, "Oh."
"So I was thinking, we could watch his Hunger Games," Peeta continued. I sat down on the edge of the couch without looking up at Peeta.
"Why? We aren't going to be fighting Haymitch," I answered.
Peeta shrugged, "It's the only Quell we have. Maybe we could try and see if any tricks are thrown in."
"I guess that's true," I agreed, seeing sense in the idea.
"And besides," Peeta leaned in close to me. I felt my breath catch in my throat as my eyes finally met his. His were full of humor, while I knew mine were full of caution. I didn't know what Peeta's feelings were, despite him acting like he liked me. I couldn't get his words out of my head, saying he was thinking about Katniss. He continued, "Weren't you ever curious about how Haymitch won?"
My eyes shifted to look away from Peeta as his breath blew against my nose. I blinked once before nodding. "Yes, I guess I have."
Peeta pushed the tape into the video player and turned the television on. I curled up on the couch, pulling my knees up under my chin and wrapping my arms around my legs. Peeta sat down on the couch a little farther down from me.
The video started with the reapings, like all the other videos did. Since it was a Quell, something was different about it than all the normal Games. For its 50th anniversary, there would be double the amount of tributes in the Games. The Reapings went by quickly for me because I knew what to expect. There would be strong Careers from the first couple of districts and weaklings from the smaller districts.
And then there was 12. I didn't even recognize Haymitch when he was reaped first. He was lean, scrawny almost, but strong with a curly mop of hair on his head. I didn't really pay attention to the rest of the 12 tributes until Peeta gasped.
"That's Mrs. Everdeen," he said, pointing. Sure enough, Katniss' mom was clinging to the next tribute. The girl Mrs. Everdeen clung to was obviously from the town and not the Seam with her long blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes. I tried to recall her name, but I realized I hadn't been listening. They showed Mrs. Everdeen and another young girl clinging to the girl that was reaped as she walked towards the stage. It was my turn to gasp because the other younger girl looked like my mom. But I quickly brushed off that thought. It couldn't be her.
They were dressed up in hideous coal miner getups for the Chariots. I laughed at Haymitch's grimace that he wore on his face throughout the whole ride. Haymitch received an 8 in training, and the girl scored a 7. The girl portrayed herself as innocent in her interview, and Haymitch acted exactly the same. Cocky, confident, uninterested. It was obvious the crowd liked his arrogance. I saw a couple of girls in the crowd biting their lips as he spoke, infatuated with young Haymitch. I wondered how they would feel now that he's an old drunk.
Soon, we were swooped into the Games. So many different terrains were shoved in one arena: mountains, water, forest, fields. It overwhelmed me, and I wondered how Haymitch could stay collected in the arena, barely giving even one wide-eyed glance. He looked bored with the whole thing. I respected him even more now. Haymitch fled for the forest, with only a knife and a backpack with a few belongings in it.
Haymitch quickly got surrounded by the Careers. He picked a few of them off, but he couldn't kill them all. The girl from 12 showed up and shot at the Careers with her poisoned blow dart gun she had gotten from the Cornucopia.
After she saved him, Haymitch and the girl became allies, maybe even friends. But Haymitch kept walking deeper into the forest, never turning around so much to look over his shoulder. I looked over at Peeta once to see him shaking his head, and immediately, I was transfixed with Peeta. The way the light from the television set lit up his face eerily. His eyes were glossy, and suddenly, he jumped up. My eyes hit the screen, realizing I had missed Haymitch and the girl fight off some mutts. After that moment, I only concentrated on the Games. I watched as the girl got fed up with Haymitch avoiding the fights.
She broke off the alliance, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to have to kill the other. But not long after, a weird bird mutation created by the Gamemakers killed the girl. But Haymitch held her hand as she died. My skin began to crawl as I saw Haymitch give a little frown, probably the closest he has ever been to crying in his life. He had a connection with this girl that grew in any set of allies in the Games, and thoughts of Rue began to hit my heart in vivid pangs.
Birds whistled a four-note tune, and Peeta shuddered beside me. His jaw was clenched. I crawled over a couple of feet and set my hand on his. He looked at me.
"Are you okay?" I asked, knowing full well that neither of us were okay.
"That was our signal. Rue's and mine. When we finished at the feast, we whistled to the birds," he explained. I wrapped my fingers around his, and Peeta smiled up at him. It felt weird, alien, holding his hand because we had been training so hard; we hadn't had… contact in so long. Peeta was always trying to make me work harder, run faster, do more. Love had been thrown to the side, and the Hunger Games was all that mattered. But now we were alone, and all I wanted to do was be near him. No matter what he was thinking about Katniss. No matter how hurt I would be later.
He grasped my hand in return. "Look," he whispered, pointing at the screen, glowing steadily in the corner of the dark room. It cast creepy, blue light on everything, making odd shadows crawl up the floor towards Peeta and I. I quickly stopped thinking about this and turned my gaze to see Haymitch stumbling through the woods, most of his insides falling out. He must be in the last two.
A Career girl kept fighting him, and even though I knew Haymitch would win, I grew scared. He was bloody and almost dead even. It was weird that I was watching the old drunk in the house down the street almost die on television. Even weirder that I found myself caring so much for Haymitch; so thankful he had survived his Games. The Career threw her final axe, missing Haymitch completely, and suddenly, it seemed like the battle was over. The winner would be whoever lasted longer, the loser would die of battle wounds. But Haymitch began to smile. His cocky little smile. The axe came flying back and buried itself in the Career girl's head. I gasped and turned my head away. Peeta grabbed my head and set it in his shoulder, murmuring softly to me. I didn't realize I was shivering until Peeta put his arms around me, warming me.
"He turned the arena into a weapon," Peeta said with a small chuckle. "He's almost as bad as us."
I shook my head, "Almost, but not quite."
"You're right," Peeta sighed. "We were so much worse."
My arms lifted themselves, and I was hugging Peeta tightly. The Reaping was close, barely a week away now. Who knew how much time we had left together?
"The Gamemakers are going to kill us first," I realized.
"I'm not going to let that happen," Peeta stroked my head. I groaned, knowing this conversation was coming up again. We had fought about it so much already. Who was going to win. Who was going to sacrifice. It was getting tiring, and I should've known it was going to come up sooner or later.
"I'm not going to let you die," I stated.
"Ivy, we've been over this. You're coming home," Peeta said as if he was talking to a child. But I wasn't a child. I was far from.
I was a victor.
"Come home to what? This isn't home! This is a… a cage," I stammered out. I pulled away to look at Peeta. Summoning as much courage as I could, I set my hand on his cheek and let my fingers play with the curls falling down near his ears. "You're my home, Peeta."
Peeta shook his head and took my hand off his cheek. He held both my hands, looking down at our twisted fingers.
"Why are you so stubborn?" he asked.
"Stubborn? I'm just telling you that you're going to live."
"No, I want you to live!" Peeta shouted, looking up at me with wide eyes.
"What if I don't want to live?" I said back, sounding mildly ferocious. Peeta stared at me for a second, before his hands began to squeeze my hands, hard. Then they brushed over my hair, desperately. He put his hands on either side of my head, holding it firmly so I was forced to look at him.
"You want to live. You do," he breathed, trying to make me believe it.
I gave Peeta a sad smile, "Not if the reason I'm alive is because you're dead."
Peeta dropped his hands and shoulders, realizing there was no use arguing with me. Instead, he wrapped his arms protectively around me again and changed the subject.
"Should we tell Haymitch we watched his Games?"
"Definitely not," I answered, laughing.
"You know, Ivy, Haymitch won't volunteer if I get chosen," Peeta said, setting his forehead against mine. I held my breath. I couldn't let him get to my head. Keep calm. Keep sane.
"I think he will."
"He owes me. He kept you alive last time," Peeta said. I shivered, remembering how close to death I had gotten. Maybe Haymitch had convinced the Gamemakers to have a feast so I could get my medicine. Either way, I knew Peeta was wrong. There was a reason we were together tonight.
"Haymitch kept us both alive, Peeta," I muttered, "and you know that."
Peeta's nose touched mine, and I almost pulled away. I wanted to kiss him, so badly. But this was important.
"But I'm glad he chose you. I would've chosen you too," Peeta said, grinning. I felt a smile come to my face. Whenever he said something like this, he acted like it was nothing. Like it meant nothing. And maybe it did to him. It probably meant nothing to him. But those words, all of his words, made me get light-headed and my stomach swirl. I could almost feel the room dissolve into nothing but the two of us whenever he would so much as brush my hand with his fingers.
"I wouldn't have," I replied.
"Not again," Peeta groaned mockingly.
"Yes, again. Not until you realize who is more important here. Peeta, you are going to make it home." My hand curled into a fist on his chest. Peeta laughed.
"Who's to say we can't both make it home again? It worked the first time," he chuckled.
"Do you honestly think they would be stupid enough to let it happen…"
"Shh," Peeta breathed, his hand finding my hair and pushing it behind my ear, "just stay silent for a moment."
My eyes closed. The only sounds: heaving breathing, calming deep breaths, and pulsing heart beats. A loud silence. The sound of Peeta moving forward. Setting his lips on mine. His hand reaching behind my head gently to run his fingers through my hair. I melted into his embrace, feeling so calm I could've been asleep. Staying silent for this one moment. The moment that belonged to us. Knowing it might very well be one of our last moments.
We were being robbed of simple pleasures: love, peace, and silence.