PEETA'S POV
I stare hard at Primrose, attempting to communicate with her mind like I did at the reaping. But the connection is completely closed off. She fighting everything off and won't let anything invade her business. Even me, who's probably going to be the only person she can trust in the games. Unless she thinks differently. My nostrills flare and my fists tighten because of the fact she doesn't trust me, she knows I'm going to save her, she knows I'm going to make her win and I know she doesn't like it. So why close me off? Why not argue to get her point across? Why not keep fighting? I know she's got that fire in her that she shares with her sister! So why not use it? It must be something about the blue-eyed avox girl. Primrose said she recognised her. I must know what is going on in order to save her, in order to make Katniss happy. I just silently sit and sip my soup with a stern expression. Suddenly, Haymitch Abernathy (our mentor) collapses through the double doors, his white shirt stained with mustard yellow and a faint red (which is probably wine) tie wrapped around his blonde hair and a bottle of vodka in his right hand, gulping it down every second.
"Hel-lo tributes! May the odds be ever in your favour! Ha ha ha!" he chuckles in an impression of an Effie Trinket accent. Subtley, she pats the corner of her mouth with a napkin and rolls her eyes. That is when I notice her hot pink eyelashes dotted with diamantes matching her nails. It makes me wonder even more how the Capitol came up with and how it can consider it's bizzare fashion as "beautiful." Primrose and I turn our eyes towards Haymitch who is surprisingly not drinking anymore, but inspecting us closely seeing what he has to work with this year. As he sits down next to Effie, he loses his balance and topples onto her. She pulls a disgusted face and pushes him back with her perfectly pampered nails, the same way she did with Primrose at the reaping.
"My! You could have at least made yourself presentable Haymitch! It's the same every year!" our escort says, frustrated and furious. Few seconds after Effie gave Haymitch a telling off, he just chuckles heartily and says, "Listen sweetheart, just be glad I wore a suit!" He takes a final gulp of vodka and chucks the empty bottle behind his back before pulling a smaller bottle containing tequila from his suit's blazer. For the next few minutes, no one says anything. Our mentor keeps drinking, Effie Trinket keeps quietly whispering to herself how embarrasing it is for her to have "him" here, my fellow tribute has a frightened look on her face and keeps quiet and me, I just don't know what to say. Just then, I can't stand the silence anymore and blurt out to Haymitch, "So any tips for the arena?" He pouts his lips and wrinkles his nose for a while then eventually says, "Nope! All gone! Nothing! Zero!" He takes a sip of his tequila. "But, I'm gonna tell you two what I tell all my other tributes. Don't get killed," he rocks back and forth on his chair with his hysterical, demented laughter. Rage and fury builds up in me. He thinks this is all a joke! He thinks our murder, our death is all a joke! He's acting like a Capitol, or District 2 citizen who adores the games when he is meant to be a 12 citizen, he's meant to be from the district who despises and shudders at the thought of the hunger games! He's meant to from the District who is actually sane! He needs to take this seriously. He needs to be taught. In rage and anger, I pick up the knife which is meant to be used for carving the gammon sitting on the priceless gold tray at the centre and dig it into the table right in front of him.
"Peeta! That is priceless mahogany!" gasps Effie. I stare profoundly into his cold, blue eyes which the warmth has been sucked out of and yell in his face, " THIS IS NOT ALL A JOKE! THIS IS OUR LIVES WE ARE TALKING ABOUT OR DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT?" I back away from his face and continue,"You are supposed to help make a change in our District, to help us survive the arena." Haymitch's stern face once again turns to hysterical laughter. He's sick! This is a serious moment for me and Primrose. I have to save her and he's the person who can make that happen. He is the person who can make the only person I truly love content. And he is laughing about it! Single-handedly, I pick him up from his seat, pin him up against a wall and place the knife right on his neck. I give him a hard glare. Quickly, he frees himself and sits down again. I sit down next to my fellow tribute, who now looks awfully afraid of me. Everyone in the room is now staring at me. I don't care. At least it made Haymitch more sober.
"Well," he replies in his sensible tone. " I can already see you're handy with a knife! Good! Strong point we can focus on. And you have a lot of muscle. I'll keep that in mind," Good. He's finally acting sane and doing some proper mentoring. However, the tribute he should be paying most attention to is Primrose. Since she is the one I need to win.
