The Hunger Games Through Peeta's Eyes

Chapter four P.P.O.V.

I know right then what Katniss is going to say as soon as she screams “Prim!” I’ve seen the little girl. My father adores her. Katniss loves her more than anything. She would never let anything hurt her, especially not this. She runs down the aisle and, shielding her sister protectively, gasps “I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!” Since tribute pretty much means corpse in our district, volunteers are a rarity. “Lovely,” says Effie. “But I believe there is a small matter of addressing the reaping winner and asking for volunteers, and if one does come forward then we, um. . .” She trails off, unsure herself. “What does it matter?” He looks pained. I knew that his daughter, Madge, had been one of Katniss’s friends. “What does it matter?” He repeats quietly. “Let her come forward.” Prim has her arms locked around Katniss’s middle, and I can hear the struggle going on as she tries to break Prim’s hold. Then Gale comes forward from the back and I can see his obvious attempt to remain emotionless is failing. He pulls the screaming girl away and deposits her with her mother, then rejoins the eighteen year olds. “Well, bravo!” says Effie. “That’s the spirit of the games!” She looks pleased to have a district with some action going on in it. “What’s your name?” Effie asks, beaming. “Katniss Everdeen” she responds quickly. “I bet my buttons that was your sister! We 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!” calls Effie. No one applauds. Instead, first one, then another person, and so on until everyone is doing it. We all take our three middle fingers, press them to our lips, and hold them out to her. It’s an old, rarely used gesture of our district. It means thanks. It means admiration. It means goodbye to someone you love. Then Haymitch chooses this time to stagger across the stage and congratulate her. “Look at her! Look at this one!” he hollers, throwing an arm around her. I silently tell him to get his slimy arm off of her. “I like her!” he continues. “Lots of. . .” He takes a while to come  up with the word. “Spunk!” He says triumphantly. “More than you!” he says to the crowd. “More than you!” he says this time at the cameras. Is he actually taunting the Capitol? He opens his mouth to continue, but instead does a head dive off the stage and knocks himself unconscious. He’s taken away on a stretcher and Effie tries to get the ball rolling again. “What an exciting day,” she warbles as she attempts to straighten her pink wig, which looks about ready to fall off. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!” I don’t even have a second to wish for my safety before she’s already got the name and is reading it. “Peeta Mellark.” I freeze in place. Someone gives me a push and I make my way to the stage. I try to remain emotionless, but there’s so much shock and fear coursing through my body that I’m certain it shows in my eyes. I take my place on the stage and think of how the odds are definitely NOT in my favor. They expect me to kill the girl I love. But I swear to myself that no matter what, I will do everything I can to protect her. That she will be coming home. The mayor signals for us to shake hands. I grasp hers in mine and give her a reassuring squeeze. Then a group of peacekeepers surround us and march us to the Justice Building where I must say my final goodbyes to my family and maybe some friends. Forever.