11

No one breathed. Prim wanted to retract her comment. No, she didn't. Yes…no…

Every face registered shock, embarrassment, confusion as to how to respond. Should they cheer? Disapprove? Ignore it? Caesar hopped right back in to save the day. "Well no matter what happens, I don't think you, Primrose, could ever become a monster. Best of luck, Primrose Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve!"

Prim stood and curtsied like Effie had taught her. Then she returned to her seat. Despite her awkward ending, the applause filled the auditorium like a rising wave. Peeta gave her a thumbs up as he passed, taking his turn on stage. He was the last to go, so whatever he said would leave the final taste in the audience's mouth. He'd do great. He was so nice, it would be impossible for people not to like him. Besides, if he earned sponsors, then maybe their money could go toward helping Prim, too.

Not that she'd be around long enough to need help.

She tuned back in to Peeta's interview in time to catch him and Caesar joke-sniffing each other. She giggled. The audience roared. Then, "So, Peeta, do you have a girlfriend back home?"

Peeta hesitated and Prim thought he threw a brief glance her way and shook his head. Why did Prim suddenly feel nervous?

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" said Cesar.

Peeta sighed. "Well, there's this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

The crowd sighed as one. Some women even lifted handkerchiefs to their eyes. Prim watched Peeta closely. Who did he love? Something in her gut told her she should know the answer.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asked.

"Yeah." He grimaced. Why did he keep talking about this? Was it a ploy to gain sympathy and attention from sponsors? Prim hoped so, she didn't like thinking of Peeta's heart hurting.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. Fight for her! She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar gave him an encouraging slap on the knee.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning . . . won't help in my case."

Yes it would! Prim balled her hands into fists, even more determined. She'd help Peeta get home. He was so nice. So friendly. No girl could turn him down!

"Why ever not?" asked Caesar, mystified.

Peeta looked down at his hands. "Because…because…her little sister came here with me."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Prim frowned, then gasped just as the camera settled on her face.

Katniss.

He loved Katniss! Her eyes welled. Poor Peeta! Did he know Katniss was going to marry Gale next year? Was Katniss watching this? What was she thinking? Did she know Peeta loved her? She told Prim that Peeta would watch out for her.

She had to have known.

But it didn't matter. If he won the games, that meant Prim would be dead and—no matter what Peeta did to protect her—it would never be enough for Katniss. But that didn't matter. Katniss and Gale were meant to be together. They were perfect for each other.

Poor Peeta.

So that's why he was so nice—he wanted to protect Prim…as a last heroic act for the girl he loved.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck." Caesar's voice barely rose above the sad murmurs of the crowd.

"It's not good," agreed Peeta.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. If she looks anything like young Primrose here, it'd be hard not to fall for her." Caesar tossed out a soft grin. "She didn't know?"

Peeta shook his head. "Neither of them did. Not until now. But if I can't win the games, I'm making sure Prim does…so she can go back to her sister."

Prim let out a tiny sob and wanted to kick the camera that projected her wilting face on screen.

"Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The roar of the crowd, Peeta's soft "thank you", the anthem…all faded into the background of Prim's swirling thoughts. No. This wouldn't work. He couldn't try and help her win. She'd put him in danger. Didn't she just tell everyone she wasn't going to kill any tributes?

She followed Effie, Haymitch, and Peeta into the elevator, keeping her head low. Effie was sniffling and Haymitch nudged Peeta. "Good job out there. They're eating out of the palm of your hands."

A thin strand of hope lifted Prim's head. "So it was all pretend?" She looked at Peeta.

He shook his head and gave her a wobbly smile. "No, it was real, Prim. Your sister's had me captivated my whole life. I just wasn't quick enough to earn her love."

Prim's bottom lip trembled. "But…but aren't there other girls?"

"Shhhh." He gave her a side-hug. "Don't worry, it's not all as bleak as it came out on stage. I'm over it. I'm happy that Katniss has a man who will take care of her. Hopefully my interview got us some sponsors and will help send you home."

The elevator reached their floor and they walked in to the smell of dinner.

"No!" Prim shook her head and tried to push him away. "Please don't try to protect me. I'm not going to make it. You heard me up there, I'm not going to kill anyone. I won't fight." But would she? Everyone always said the Arena transformed a person into a blood-lusting beast. What if she didn't have as much control over herself as she thought?

"Let's eat." Haymitch plopped at the table. "And then you two are going straight to bed. You leave at dawn and we won't be going with you."

Prim choked on a sip of water. Peeta squeezed her hand. It had been so easy to forget about the Games starting tomorrow during the whirlwind of interviews.

"Any final words of advice?" Peeta asked.

"When the gong sounds, get out of there. Neither of you are up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia." Haymitch settled his gaze on Prim. "No matter how fast you are. You'll die in seconds."

Prim lost her appetite. Die in seconds. She had two options: step off the platform and get blown to smithereens, but then Katniss would be crushed because Prim didn't even put up a fight. Or run to the Cornucopia and get slaughtered there. It'd be more painful, but at least Katniss would think that Prim tried.

"And eat." Haymitch shoved a whole platter of roasted duck toward her. "You have no idea if there will be food there. Fill up, sweetheart."

This, at least, she would obey, despite the fact every bite tasted like paper. She didn't want to starve. That was too slow. She remembered starving after Father died. The worst stomach pains she'd ever remembered until Katniss came home with a burned loaf of bread one night. Prim never asked how she got it. It had to have come from the baker...where Peeta lived. Was that how they knew each other?

Prim ate so much that she practically crawled back to her room—the place of perfect escape. She changed into soft fluffy pajamas, crawled under the covers, and forced her mind to shut down. It obeyed the best it could, but her stomach kept clenching and squirming like it did the night before the reaping.

Only this time, there was no Mom or Katniss to crawl into bed with. The nightmares were coming and this time...

...Prim was alone.

Tomorrow, she'd be in the arena.

.

.

To be continued...

Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this story so far! Thank you! :-)

(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.)

~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?"