Down the Primrose Path

Chapter Eleven

--CHAPTER ELEVEN--

"What happened back there?" Haymitch takes my shoulders in his firm grip, squeezing my bones. He is angry for sure, after what I did. I've ruined my whole reputation planned by him, Effie, Cinna and Portia, the prep team, everyone who was on our team I have failed. Everyone stares at me. Mostly they are just watching Haymitch solemnly, nervous that he might kill me right now.

"I'm sorry," I attempt to make up for it.

"Sorry is not enough. No dazzling interview or good score or even winning the Games will make up for this. If you're not killed in the arena, they'll kill you when you're home!" Haymitch presses me against the wall. We're in the penthouse that Peeta and I will be living in till the Games. The Chariot Rides are over but the reaction still remains.

"It wasn't her fault. I said we had to do something." Peeta touches Haymitch's arm but he simply throws it off. "Maybe it's a good thing." my fellow tributes insists. "Maybe they'll like her recklessness."

Effie scoffs. "It was terrible manners, though."

Haymitch makes me stare into his cold, blue eyes that seem to be burning with rage. "You, now. Have. No. Chance."

I look down at the ground miserably. I stuffed up. I've stuffed up since the beginning. I'm not meant for the Games. Maybe there was slight hope for me, but its been blown out of proportion into nothing. Now like I've thought since before I was reaped, I have no chance.

--THE CHARIOT RIDES--

(P.S it's meant to be in past tense)

They weren't watching. No one. When we rode out of that tunnel with big bright smiles and arms ready to wave, they clapped and cheered. But not for us. The eyes were deeply locked on the chariots way before us. They were shouting so many names but we could not hear ours. Cato. Clove. Glimmer. Marvel. Thresh. Ashley. But where was Primrose? Where was Peeta? There was none. They didn't even know we were at the end with fire on our backs. Peeta waved his hands up in the air wildly as if he needed help in deep water. I stood still in my chariot holding on for dear life.

"They don't see us." Peeta growled.

"They don't care." I replied.

Peeta banged his fists on the chariot. I'd never seen him so angry and distressed. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "We need to do something. Big. Something that will catch their attention."

He stared at me like a had a clue what to do. We were halfway down the road and if we didn't do something, we would be forgotten and no sponsors would be made. Peeta raised his eyebrows for help. "Can you stand on your head or something?"

"What?! No, Peeta!"

"Say something out loud. Scream it to the crowd. They love little kids."

I thought deep and hard. What would you say in District 12 that would give you lots of attention, that would turn everyone's head in surprise. We were almost at the end of our ride and it had been a dry one. What did I have to do? I studied the faces of the crowd. Heavy makeup that made them look young and alien. Hair tangled up into weird styles. Clothing too large or small for them. Jewellery that blinded the naked eye. What could I say?

I held my hands up high in the air. Make it good, I thought. The chariot was about to stop. The ideas I had rushed out of my head almost instantly. I hesitated briskly. The black horses pulling us started to slow down.

Say something!

In a fast movement, I screamed in a loud voice:

"NO MORE HUNGER GAMES!"