--» 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 «--

Chapter Nineteen

The clomping of our horses' hooves on the stone pavement and the loud, fast beating of my heart are the only things I hear until we come into view of the enormous crowd. They cheered for each tribute pair, just as they do every year, but are hysterical when they see us coming out on fire. They fling up from their seats and roar, clapping maniacally. My grip on Katniss's hand tightens without me noticing, as well as hers does. I keep still as I try not to fall over, and Katniss steadies now that she's holding on to me. We're showered in roses as the crowd cheers Katniss's name and goes wild. Smiling and waving with each of our free hands only earns us more cheers. We're about halfway when Katniss looks down at our attached hands and loosens her grip, creating a gap, which I immediately fill as I tighten.

"No, don't let go of me," I beg her, dreading the moment we will finally have to let go. "Please. I might fall out of this thing," I lie, knowing I'm very sturdy and that the only reason is I love her too much to lose her. My remark draws a small smile out of her, and she squeezes my hand back happily.

"Okay," she replies. I smile at her, but she looks away nervously. I really can't blame her for this, wanting to keep a distance between the two of us, considering we've only ever interacted once and hadn't even spoken to each other before the reaping. And, maybe the fact we're being put into an arena to fight to the death with one another and 22 other children could play a part as well.

Our chariot pulls up behind the others, which are lined up directly in front of President Snow's mansion, and all of the tributes glare at us, hating the fact that we stole all of their attention. Looking at their stupid faces gawking at us makes me want to blow raspberries at them, and it takes all my effort not to, but I manage to make an overly-confident face before the music ends and Snow takes to the warm, white spotlight on his balcony. He smiles and waves at the crowd, which is clapping delicately and quietly at his elegant entrance. President Snow is a short, thinnish man with white hair, which lessens with every appearance he makes.

The cameras, which are supposed to be trained directly on him, can't seem to get their lenses off us, which angers the President. They shift quickly over to him, and he continues waving, this time for all of Panem to see.

"The tributes, ladies and gentlemen," he says, gesturing his hand towards the 24 of us.

We're whisked back off into the Training Center after making our second loop, where cameras tracked us the whole way. The Training Center's doors shut behind Katniss and me, and she breathes deeply, wiping her forehead, thinking we're alone until prep teams swarm us and tributes shoot us dirty looks. Portia erases the engineered flames, and Katniss discharges her hand from mine.