Prim's games - the hunger games

the mentor - Part 2

It feels like just a minute later that I hear Effie's
voice beckoning for me to get out of bed and to come to the dining room as quick as possible. I slip on the clothes I was wearing yesterday and make my way into another lavish meal. Effie trinket hands me a cup of dark coffee as she sips her own.

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch says as he waves me over. The moment I slide next to peeta, I'm served a mouthwatering amount of food. Eggs, perfectly toasted bread, piles of fried potatoes and a tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled.

I examine the rich brown cup of something, which I initially thought was one of my mothers favourite drinks, coffee. But when peeta explains to me that it's something called hot chocolate i take a sip of the hot, creamy liquid and I find that once I've begun, I can't stop.

I've ignored the meal as I drain the rest of the steaming hot liquid. Then I stuff every morsel of that breakfast because I'm not letting any of this go to waste. Unfortunately, my stomach has other plans as after ten minutes it already feels like my stomachs about to explode.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I prompt him to give me actual advice but instead he says "here's some advice. Stay alive." And then he burst out laughing, deciding that our lives are the most funniest thing in Panem.

I spare a glance at Peeta and I'm surprised to see the hardness in his eyes. He generally seems so mild but, as my teachers say, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

"That's very funny," peeta says and suddenly he lashes out at the glass in haymitchs hand. It shatters on the floor, spilling the suspiciously blood looking liquid across the floor. "Only not to us."

Haymitch considers this, then punches peeta straight on the jaw, knocking him from his chair. I decide to grab the nearest knife and wedge it between Haymitch's hand and his newly acquired bottle of alcohol.

"Well, what's this?" Haymitch sighs "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" Peeta rises from the floor and I scoop some of the ice, from under the fruit tureen, and raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," says haymitch and I pause. "Let his bruise show. People will think he's mixed it with another tribute before he's even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules," says Peeta.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say that you can fight and you weren't caught." Says haymitch as he turns his attention to me "can you do anything else besides hitting that knife on the table?"

"I know how to treat people...?" My response sounds more like a question than an answer but haymitch just hums in response to this information.

"Both of you, stand over there," demands haymitch as he gestures to the wall nearest to him. We obey, and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times. "Well you two aren't entirely hopeless. You'll both seem cute enough with the stylists help."

Peeta and I don't question this. Usually, it's the best looking tributes that sponsors always flock to. Alright I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll stay sober enough to help you two but you have to listen to every word I say."

"Fine," says Peeta.

"So... when we get to-" I try to ask but haymitch interrupts me before I can say anything more. "One thing at a time. In a couple of minutes we'll be pulling into the station. Don't try to resist what your stylists try to do. Even if you don't like it." Haymitch takes the bottle of alcohol and leaves the car.

Me and Peeta stand still as the train speeds along. The tunnel seems endless but the train begins to slow and bright light starts to flood through the windows. Both Peeta and I run to the window to see what we've only seen on our rustic televisions, the capitol, the richest city of Panem.