Scars That Never Fade- A New Generation of Hunger Games

Chapter 7

Yes. I knew who that was. Haymitch Abernathy, the winner of the 50th Hunger Games, the 2nd Quarter Quell. In his games, 50 kids were reaped. After he won, he mentored District 12 tributes until the games ended. Looks like he was back in the job.

"Hi, Haymitch," I said tentatively. I didn't really know how to talk to someone who was perpetually drunk. He waved, pushing away from the table. He stumbled over to the table, and picked up a bottle of what looked like scotch.

Volker looked hesitantly at me, and I understood what he felt. I had met Haymitch before with my father. At the time, he was relatively sober, and actually a quite friendly man. I was hopeful that we could get him to help us in the Games, and maybe sober up a little. Volker, however, didn't look so sure. Not much I could do by writing, and you can only convey so much through writing little notes.

Lina walked in briskly towards Haymitch, snatching the bottle of scotch from his fumbling hands.

"Whoa, there," said Haymitch, his hands outstretched to his stolen refreshment.

Lina wagged her finger. "Effie warned me about you," she scolded. Haymitch rolled his eyes and laughed to himself. He started drinking gravy straight from the boat, and I stifled a giggle. Volker looked amused as well. At least we'd spend our last few days somewhat entertained by Haymitch's antics.

"Sit down, children," said Lina, "look at all the wonderful food we have here! Let's eat now. You two will need some good nourishment for when you enter the games." Reluctantly, Volker and I agreed and took our places at the table.

"Is this mahogany?" asked Haymitch jokingly. No one really understood why he was laughing.

"Yes," said Lina, "wh..." Haymitch suddenly stuck a knife into the table, bellowing loudly. Lina gasped, which made Haymitch laugh harder.

"Good times, good times," he said, "kids, you gotta be fast like that if you wanna win the Games." He was definitely drunk. His antics were starting to become obnoxious, not funny anymore. I looked over to Volker, who seemed uncomfortable. There was a sudden crash. Haymitch's face had planted itself in a pie. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

How was I supposed to have any chance in the Games under these circumstances?

Frustrated with the lack of seriousness, I stormed away from the table, to my private room. I stared out the window at tall trees and shrubbery. Must be District 11. I closed my blinds, uninterested. I lay on the cushiony bed, staring at the ceiling. I punched the air, and kept punching it. I imagined I was in the Games, in a fist fight. My opponent was an angry, muscular boy with a cruel look in his eye, he came to life. He hit me and I screamed at him. I kept punching and crying out for help, until I had exhausted myself.

Someone came through the door, standing quietly in the doorway. I expected it to be Lina, but when I looked up, I saw Volker. I motioned him over, and noticed he was carrying a plate full of food.

"Thanks," I told him. I knew he wouldn't respond but at least he would know I was grateful. He set the food on a table next to my bed, and I saw a note on the plate.

"Lina says eat up and get some rest. See you in the morning," read the note. I thanked Volker again, and he smiled sweetly at me and left the room. I took a few bites of food. Though it was delicious, I still couldn't eat much. I knew I needed rest. Eventually, after much thinking about today's events and the ones still to come, I drifted off to sleep.