4
"You're not going to survive." These were Haymitch's first words to Prim. He, Prim, Effie, and Peeta sat around a mahogany table with another hot Capitol meal in front of them.
Prim's hand hovered mid-way to her mouth. She looked into Haymitch's scruffy face. "I know."
"You don't need to frighten her." Peeta set his water glass down with a clunk. "It's your job to teach us how to survive. If you're labeling us as failures already, then our failure will be your fault."
Peeta said us as if he considered her as a team mate. But he shouldn't! "Haymitch is right, Peeta. I don't want to kill people."
"Well, neither do I, but I want to survive. I still want to learn everything I can."
Was Katniss right? That she could survive? Maybe even without killing someone? She dare not hope. Not yet.
Haymitch rolled his eyes and swigged from a flask. "Survive. Learn. Friendship. How about some candy and bubble baths, too? …You're both pathetic."
Prim leaped to her feet, her fists at her sides. "No we're not! Just because we don't want to murder people doesn't mean we're weak!"
"You have no idea what's going to happen once you enter that arena," Haymitch growled. "You're going to become a monster, yes even you, little blue-eyed sweetheart." His eyes lost focus for a moment. "Everyone does."
Peeta punched him in the jaw. Effie screamed and Prim plopped back into her seat. Haymitch fell on his back on the ground, yanking the tablecloth with him. Dishes clattered to the floor. Prim's startled gaze flitted from Haymitch to Peeta. even though his hand was still in a fist and a muscle in his clenched jaw pulsed...she trusted him.
Once the chaos settled, Haymitch rubbed his jaw.
"Not us." Peeta breathed heavily. "We won't become monsters."
"Well!" Effie huffed. "Those were monstrous manners, young man!" She waved a hand toward a servant woman with long red hair and white clothing. Without a word, the woman came and started picking up the broken dishes.
Haymitch propped himself up on his elbows, glaring at Peeta. Peeta glared back. Then Haymitch started to laugh. Was he insane? Drunk? Prim glanced at Peeta—he looked just as confused.
"At least you've got a little muscle." Haymitch crawled back into his chair. "I'm not convinced you're survivors yet." Peeta opened his mouth as if to retort, but Haymitch held up a finger. "But, I'll teach you what I can…on one condition." He looked pointedly at each of them. "You do whatever I say."
"Then you have to stay sober." Peeta's jaw relaxed.
Haymitch waved away the statement. "Fine, fine. Deal?"
Peeta nodded. Prim nodded, too…only she wouldn't kill anyone.
On their way to bed, Prim and Peeta found themselves alone in the corridor. Prim wanted to ask if Peeta knew Katniss. She wanted to talk about Katniss-about how much she'd miss her, about how strong she was, about how she wanted to be like Katniss. But that was the wrong type of focus. Prim stopped at her door and looked up at Peeta. "I'm not going to kill you."
He stopped walking, but didn't look at her. Then, in a quiet voice, "Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I don't." She lifted her jaw to show her seriousness. She'd keep this one. Katniss trusted this boy, and if Katniss trusted him, Prim would never do anything to harm him.
He gave her a small smile. "Good-night, Prim." He continued down the hall and disappeared into his room.
She watched him go, the peaceful feeling in her chest dissipating like thin liquid under summer heat. She couldn't help but notice...
...he didn't promise not to kill her.
.
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To be continued...
(new posts every week, sometimes sooner.)
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~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~ "How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"