The Victor

10

It's summer at last. The sun shines in District 12. Food, though not plentiful, is easier to come by.I am miserable.The reaping's today. I forced myself to put on a dress, my mother's. Effie will call it quaint, but I hardly care.Everything is quiet. I can't stand the oppressing silence around me. I'm half-afraid I'll vomit on the stage.When the mayor reads out our names, I step onto the stage, guiding the staggeringly drunk Haymitch. He's quiet, like he was when I was chosen. No, not chosen, I volunteered. No one will volunteer today, I'm almost sure of it.I find Peeta in the crowd as I sit down and the mayor welcomes Effie to the stage. He's staring at me helplessly. He won't be chosen, and if he is, I'll make sure he wins, against every odd stacked against him."Happy Hunger Games!" Effie says. "And may the odds be ever in your favor. I am so glad to return to the district that won last year. Let us hope for another victory."She walks over to the clear glass bowl, wobbling on her heels. I remember the day I became a tribute. It feels so long ago and at the same time, yesterday. I still dream of the arena at night. I still dream of Magnus, and of Clive. I don't think I'll ever stop seeing it all in my dreams."Ladies first!" Effie chirps, but maybe it is my memory, echoing through the months, a shade of the person I used to be. I am not the same. I am older and smarter and a lot less trusting. I cling to the people I love and push them away. How is that possible?"Maisie Whitebrook?" Effie's voice says. There's a murmur through the crowd. It separates around a little girl who is shaking in fright. She stands with the twelve-year-olds. She's so tiny. I look at Robin. She's a year older but I can still remember the fear on her little face. Her sister's screams. I half-expect someone to volunteer for little Maisie, but no one does. No one says a word as she climbs on stage and stands, tears running down her porcelain face, next to Effie."Boys next, then," Effie says, and I'm reminded of Peeta. He can't be chosen. He won't be. President Snow has tortured me enough, he will not take Peeta from me.Effie's nails scraping for a name at the bottom of the bowl enter my head, sounding almost like screams. Not Peeta, please not Peeta."Syca Daywillow," Effie says with a beaming smile. I force myself to keep upright though all I want is to collapse with a smile on my face.A boy with long black hair comes up from the fourteen-year-olds. He stood right beside Peeta, who I notice is pale and looks relieved.The two tributes stand next to Effie for the cameras for a moment. They shake hands and are quickly ushered into the Justice Building. Haymitch and I followed them in, though we don't see more than a glimpse of our responsibilities before they are taken to separate rooms.I take a deep breath. This is where the real trial begins. I remember what they're going through. The fear is fresh in my mind even now.God, I don't think we can get them through this. We're going to come back home having no victors. District 12 has hope for us, because I managed to survive last year. But I was lucky and the Capitol loved me and Magnus saved my life. But Syca and Maisie won't be lucky.We board the train before the tributes do. I have a sense of déjà vu looking around at the table covered in a pristine white tablecloth, Effie bustling around with her clipboard.I hear the cars pull up, and I look at Haymitch with a feeling of intense dread.Minutes later, the train door opens and in come the tributes. Syca, skinny for his age, his shoulder-length black hair lank. Maisie, still trembling like a leaf, her eyes rimmed with red."I'll show you two to your rooms. Dinner will be in an hour," Effie chirps, gathering them in her arms and guiding them away like a mother hen.I sigh in relief as they disappear. "Haymitch, what are we going to do? What kind of advice should we give them?"Haymitch uncorks the bottle of whiskey on the table. "You know as well as I do those two aren't going to make it in the Games.""We have to try," I say bitterly."We give them the same advice we give everyone. Don't fight the stylists. Don't fight the other tributes. Get away from the Cornucopia.""You've already given up," I say to him as he drains his glass."You're right. I gave up after year ten.""You didn't give up on me.""Because I gave a damn about you."I settle into one of the couches and lean my head onto a hand. I can already feel a headache coming on.We stay silent for the remainder of the hour until dinner. When Maisie and Syca come in, I rise."Come on, sit down," I say to them. Their eyes widen at the sight of all the food."Dig in. And don't listen to Effie about manners," I tell them. Effie makes a little huffing sound under her breath.They take their seats and begin digging in, eating with abandon. I can't stomach anything more than water. Haymitch is getting more and more ruddy by the minute."We're going to get to the Capitol tomorrow morning," I say to them. "When we get there, you'll be separated and given to your stylists. Don't fight them. Just go with whatever they do to you." I study Maisie and Syca. They both have typical Seam looks; gaunt eyes, black hair, grey eyes. They're plain."What about after that?" Maisie asks. Her voice is quiet and breathless."We'll talk about that later," I answer.The table falls into silence as the train goes on, carrying me back to the Capitol and two of its passengers to almost certain death.It's the next evening. We get to the Tribute Center and Haymitch and I are ushered to the twelfth floor while our tributes are carried off to their stylists. That night, we'll be in the audience watching whatever get-up our tributes are in. I hope whoever the stylist is will be inspired this year like Zenobia was last year.I put on one of the formal dresses in the closet in my room. I can't see Zenobia's signature touches anymore. Of course, she's retired. There won't be any more dresses from her. I turn to the vanity table and begin to put on the lightest amount of makeup I can, using memory to help me.When I look at myself in the mirror, I look old. Not my face or my exposed skin, but my eyes. I look ancient.I leave the twelfth floor. Haymitch is nowhere to be seen. I can't take being trapped in here. In the elevator, I punch the button for the fourth floor. The elevator sails downward.I step out in the hall and cross to the one door. My knuckles rap on it and it opens.Finnick meets my eyes. "Pipes, what are you doing here? The ceremony starts in an hour.""I couldn't take staying up there alone any longer," I answer. "Do you want to walk down to the ceremony together?"Finnick's hand runs through his bronze hair. "Piper, I would, but –"The elevator dings open and I turn to see a garishly dressed woman step out. Her hair is bright orange and she towers over me."Finnick O'dair, you weren't going to leave me, were you?" She asks in a high-pitched squeak of a voice."Of course not," Finnick says smoothly with a charming smile. He steps around me like I don't exist and offers an arm to the woman. She giggles as they step into the elevator. As the doors close, he glances back at me with a look of resigned despair.I stand stock-still in the hallway as time ticks by. I feel like I've run headfirst into a wall and there's no way around it.I'm still awake when Haymitch returns to the twelfth floor."I didn't see you at the ceremony," he says, stumbling. He collapses on one of the chairs."I got distracted," I answer. "How were they?""Stark naked and painted pitch black. Effie's bringing them here."I sigh. "I'm going to get some sleep. Maybe my head'll be clearer in the morning."I go off to my bedroom, praying for a miracle.