Peeta's Story- The Hunger Games

Chapter 53

The door opens almost instantly, and a green-haired head peeks in. I recognize him as Sal, one of Portia's assistants. Last time I saw him seems to be a lifetime ago, but he still looks the same- young and buff and stoic. I'm not sure, but there seems to be even more tattoos on him than before, the only thing that has indicated the passage of time.

He beckons to me to follow him, and I obediently shuffle after him, leaning on my crutches for support. He smiles at me gruffly. “I'm glad you made it,” he says.

“Me too,” I respond, and for the first time, his lips twitch up into a smile.

“So where's Lourdes and Portia?” I ask conversationally. My footsteps click against the clean tile floors.

“Waiting for you,” Sal responds. He sticks a key into an elevator, and it dings. Quickly, I hobble in, and he closes the door behind me. The elevator gives a lurch and we descend in silence; the only sound I can hear is the humming of the elevator. I know that we are in the Training Center because that's where the victors always go, but this place seems different, so foreign. There is no sign of the other 22 tributes who passed through here, with high hopes, never to return.

As the elevator gives another ding, the doors open slowly to reveal two beaming women. Lourdes bounces up to me, joyous as ever. Her hair is still bright purple, but now it's waist length, with turquoise streaks. If I hadn't been so excited to see her, I might have been blinded by all the color.

“Peeta,” she gushes, pulling me into the room. I teeter off balance, and Sal catches my arm, steadying me. “Sorry!” gasps Lourdes. “I forgot about your leg. Are you... is it...?”

I give her a grim smile and pull my pants leg up. She gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, darling, I'm so sorry!” She embraces me in a hug so tight that I can barely breathe. When she finally lets go, I massage my ribs ruefully. Her perfume still clings onto me and I wrinkle my nose. Great, I smell like a girl.

“It's fine,” I say, waving my hand nonchalantly. I turn to Portia, who is looking at me with wide eyes.

Out of the three, she seems to be the one that has changed the most. Her hair is cut short and spiky, and the ends are dyed gold. Her butterfly tattoo is still on her face, but outlined in silver now, making it pop. Her nails are painted black with gold dots, matching her long, lush eyelashes. Her eyes sparkle a bright green, and she runs up to me, almost toppling me over yet again.

Sal sets me up straight, and I blush. I hate how I am so dependent on others right now.

“It's so good to see you again,” Portia breathes, clasping my hand tightly. “You- in the arena- just- I was so- I can't believe it!” she stutters incoherently. “You were marvelous!”

“You really were!” Lourdes pipes up. She curls a strand of purple hair around her index finger. “It was so cute how you were in love with her! If that really was a television show, I'd totally watch it.”

I bite back a sarcastic response because I know she means no harm. It's not my fault that the Hunger Games are just a trivial matter to the residents of the Capitol. To me, it's a battle between life and death. To them, it's just a 'television show.'

“Thanks,” I say tersely.

I think Portia senses the tension in my voice because she claps her hands. “Alright, I'm going to go consult Cinna for a second. Lourdes, Sal, can you start getting him ready.”

“Yeah!” Lourdes says enthusiastically. Sal rolls his eyes and gives a noncommittal grunt.

When Portia disappears through another doorway, they pounce on me, filing my nails, scrubbing my face. This time, the routine is a lot less painful, seeing as the hospital has already patched me up, but it still takes unnecessarily long. By the time they are done, I swear I can see no difference in my appearance.