The Mentor

1

My name is Piper Lockly. I'm from District 12. I won the 71st Hunger Games when I was sixteen. It's been three years since my Games. I've mentored two rounds of tributes only to watch them die. I am nineteen years old and I am no longer a child.My name is Piper Lockly and I am tired.I'm tired of being at the Capitol's beck and call for parties. I'm tired of watching my father and my friends collapse under the weight of despair. I'm tired of only visiting Peeta once a month and staying for ten minutes at most to protect him.The people of the Capitol call me canary affectionately, but the people of District 12, Johanna, and Finnick call me phoenix.Haymitch and I don't talk about rebellion as much anymore, only out in the woods or with the water running when we know no one can hear us. The districts are getting restless, but too many people are too cowardly to rise yet. Meanwhile, I wonder about District 13. If there are still people there, will they help us?I haven't quite devoted myself to the cause yet, not like Haymitch and Johanna. If I become a rebel, President Snow will kill Peeta. It's the only thing stopping me.Today's the day of the reaping and I'm wearing all black despite the hot sun. I feel like I'm going to a funeral, which, in a way, I am.I go over to Haymitch's house, my long skirt whipping around my legs. His drinking's gotten worse, not better, and I hope I can find a way of sobering him up before the ceremony in ten minutes."Haymitch?" I call out and he comes stumbling in from the kitchen, barely functioning. At that moment, I know there's no sobering him up."The reaping's today," I say, walking over to the sink and filling up a bowl with cold water."So?"I hand him the bowl and he splashes his face, also spattering his clothes."Get dressed. We're going to be late," I say. Haymitch stumbles to his bedroom, knocking into the frame as he does.I wait, one foot tapping, until he comes out wearing a blue suit. His hair is a tangled mess and I'm sure he has a flask tucked in somewhere, but we have to leave."Are your things packed for the trip to the Capitol?" I ask him."Pidge, you know as well as I do Effie always brings me what I need," he says, and I help him out the door.On our hurried walk to the center square, I see Haymitch guzzle whatever's in his flask and toss it to the side of the road.We get to the podium at last, and I see Effie, pink wig swaying on her head, sky-high heels threatening to topple her over. In a strange way, I've missed her in the past year. I know Haymitch has missed her too, in his own despising way. He lets out a shout in the middle of the major's speech and runs up on stage. He gives Effie a massive hug, and I follow with a sigh. With some effort, I pull Haymitch off Effie and seat him in the chair intended for him. I take the one next to him, folding my hands on my lap and searching the crowd of possible tributes.There he is, staring at me, barely suppressed fear in his eyes, and I want to tell him that it'll be alright, that the odds are in his favor, but even the slightest hint and President Snow will be onto him. His blond hair is combed neatly and his blue eyes are dull.It's going to be okay, Peeta. President Snow won't get you today.Effie finishes her speech, adjusts her wig, and heads over to the girls' ball."Ladies first!" She chirps just as she did during my reaping, and she reaches inside, her long fingernails scraping to find a slip of paper. All I can think is, who will be the one to die this year?"Primrose Everdeen."The crowd sighs and on the girls' side, it parts as a little blond girl, probably twelve, walks shakily up to the stage."Prim!" A voice screams, and I see another girl surging to reach Primrose Everdeen. "Prim!"The girl, with stereotypical Seam looks, dark hair, gray eyes, and a slight frame, shoves Primrose back."I volunteer!" she gasps out. "I volunteer as tribute!"I stiffen, leaning forward."Lovely!" Effie says. "But I believe there's –""Don't," I say quietly. Effie hears me and her mouth shuts.Primrose is crying hysterically, clinging to the elder, but the girl shoves her off and strides up to the stage, her fists clenched at her sides."Well, bravo," Effie says. "That's the spirit of the Games!" The girl reaches the stage and Effie guides her closer. "What's your name?"The girl swallows. "Katniss Everdeen.""I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Effie says.No one applauds, not even the people who bet on who'll be chosen. Then, slowly, hands begin going up. Nearly everyone touches their middle three fingers to their lips and holds them out to her. It's an old tribute usually made at funerals, to say goodbye to someone you love.That's when I realize the rebellion is real. The changes from when I volunteered to when she did show it. The Districts are getting stronger.I catch a glimpse of Katniss's still face and with a flash, I recognize her. She hunts in the woods like I used to, with a bow and arrow. The same explosion that killed my parents killed her father. She trades at the Hob; I see her every now and then.Haymitch staggers across the stage and throws his arms around her. "Look at her! Look at this one!" He hollers. "I like her! Lots of…spunk! More than you!" He releases Katniss and stares straight into a camera. "More than you!" He points an accusing finger at the Capitol, and I catch my breath. Then he takes a wrong step and falls off the stage, knocking himself unconscious.As Haymitch is rolled away on a stretcher, Effie straightens her wig again."What an exciting day!" She chirps. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"She crosses to the boys' ball, and I tense up completely. Without Haymitch to comfort me, I am all alone.Effie reaches into the ball, and pulls out a slip. She unfolds it, and I force myself not to look at Peeta."Peeta Mellark."For a moment, it doesn't register. I turn my head to look at Effie, who's searching the crowd. Then I find Peeta, who's gone pale, who's staring at me like I should've done something.He begins walking up to the stage, and I'm resisting the urge to stand and fight because I've grown so accustomed to not fighting.Then his foot hits the first step and I spring into action."Wait!" I cry out, my throat so tight the word hardly sounds human. Effie freezes, staring at me in confusion. Katniss, too, doesn't understand, but Peeta keeps climbing.I face Effie, shaking my head. "It can't be him," I say."Piper, it's his name on the paper, I –" She stammers, and I feel a hand on my shoulder.I turn to see Peeta, staring at me with those blue eyes, filled with alarm."It'll be okay," he says, but he doesn't know. He doesn't know why I haven't visited him as much for the past three years. He doesn't know I fought back and now I'm paying the price. And now he will too.He moves past me, and I can't stop him or even move. Effie asks for volunteers but there are none. Peeta and Katniss face each other, shake hands. The Peacekeepers take them and Effie and the mayor bustle off the stage but I stand there, still, staring into the cameras.This is my fault. This is all my fault.President Snow will watch me, unable to move, barely able to breathe, and he'll know that he's finally beaten me.I cross to the glass ball before the Peacekeepers come to take me, reach inside as Effie did; only I grab a handful of papers. My trembling fist withdraws and I begin reading the names written. They are all in the same delicate cursive handwriting and I swear they stink of roses and blood.Peeta Mellark.Peeta Mellark.Peeta Mellark.Peeta Mellark.Peeta Mellark written thousands of times on thousands of slips, nothing left to chance.With a scream, I knock the glass to the ground. It shatters into millions of pieces among the perfectly formed letters written over and over and over.Peeta Mellark.