The Hunger Games - PRIM EDITION

Chapter 2 - Great Advice

My whole body tenses. All eyes are on me. Did I hear right? Did she really just say my name? I look around me to see if anyone else is walking forward. But no, it's me.

I feel as though my legs have turned to steel. They will just turn to jelly and collapse beneath me if I try to walk, surely? After what seems like forever, I take a step forward.

"Where are you?" Effie asks. "Come on up!" she orders, catching sight of me in the crowd. I walk forward, reluctantly. This can't be happening. This is just another one of my nightmares. In a minute, I will wake up, and Katniss will be there to comfort me.

I catch sight of a girl on the big screen: she looks a little like me, and is wearing the same clothes, but her back is straight like a meerkats', and her eyes are wide and terrified. Her shirt is not tucked in at the back, and is sticking out like a ducks tail.

Realising that girl is me, I become a little more self-aware. I try to act a little more casual, a little less petrified, and tuck my shirt in at the back. I approach the steps at the front of the justice building.

As the steps lurk nearer, I glance up at the screen again: the slouched girl is back, but this time her face is the colour of paper; like the white hot sun, or the ice white snow. I try to recover myself, and walk stronger this time so I can make it up the steps.

Half way up the steps, my legs turn to jelly again. I stumble over my own legs, and watch in slow-motion as the steps get nearer and nearer to my face, but I just about manage to save myself with my hands. A tingling pain spreads through them, and I rub them on my skirt, feeling a red hot blush spread across my cheeks.

I approach Effie, and stand beside her, as I have seen many people do before on the television. My legs still feel like jelly, so I take some deep breaths to try and calm myself. All eyes are still on me, and I can spot a hint of pity in all of them. I glance down at my sweaty, shaking palms to see little specs of red on them. I must have grazed them on the steps. I try to look as innocent as possible, and find Katniss in the crowd.

She looks just as pale as me, and looks on the brink of tears. Her bluey-grey eyes stare into mine, as though she is trying to swap places with me. I try to muster an encouraging smile - like the ones she gives me - but I'm pretty sure it didn't look anything like a smile.

"And now for the boys." Effie continues. She puts her hand into the other ball, and rummages around in it for a while, before pulling out a slip of paper. Every boy in front of the justice building is still. I presume they all feel as I did. Effie reads the male name. "Peeta Mellark."

I'm sure I recognise the name from somewhere, but when I follow the stares to a blue eyed blonde boy in the middle of the crowd, I am certain I don't know him. He reluctantly walks forward, his steps slow, like mine were.

Feeling an unexpected rush of panic rise in me, and a strong temptation to cry, I find Katniss in the crowd again, but her eyes are not on me anymore. They are fixed on the blonde boy, with a look of recognition. I am confused to why she recognises him, until I realise they are probably in the same class at school. They look the same age, anyway.

He ascends the steps without a trip, and stands on the other side of Effie. She steps aside, allowing us to shake hands. He grasps my hand, his deep blue eyes not leaving my greyish-brown ones. I'm sure the handshake went on far longer than it should have.

Some Peace Keepers lead us through the doors of the justice building, away from the staring eyes of the crowd. You'd think I'd be relieved to get away from the audience, but in actual fact it's worse. The pitiful eyes were a distraction from my inevitable death.

Peeta and I are lead into separate rooms. I have never been in the justice building before, so I don't know what to expect. The room I am put in is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen: the walls are painted in smooth paint. The crimson carpet is thick and soft under my feet, and the sofas and chairs are lined with velvet. Velvet. I remember the soothing feel of the velvet collar on one of my mother's dresses. That feel would relax me when I was trying to get to sleep as a small child. I sit on the sofa, and rub my fingers along the smooth velvet, but after a while I become restless, and turn to pacing the room.