The Hunger Games (Fan Fiction) Book Two

Chapter Seven

I tap my fingers over and over on the table as I wait for my name to be called. One by one, all the other tributes have entered the training room, and each one has come out satisfied. The girl from District 4, Annie, went in and waited for the boy, Finnick, and when he came out, they both squealed into each other's arms and basically made out, forgetting the rest of us were there. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I've been here before. All my practicing will be put to good use. If anything, I should be better than everyone--except Gale--in the room because I'm the most recent winner of the games. But, I did get a bad score last year. A seven? All of these other tributes have averaged a nine or higher. Pathetic old seven won't do in the Quarter Quells.

"It's almost you," Gale whispers to me as the boy from 11 walks in the room. He smiles at me, showing only his lips. "I wish it wasn't." I whisper back. He shrugs. "So what if you get a bad score?" He says. "Those people can't determine how well you throw an arrow or tie a knot by a stupid number. I've been hunting my whole life. I've kept my entire family alive since I could throw an arrow. Do you think I'm going to let a group of strangers convince me I'm bad because of a number on a piece of paper?" His face is a mixture of anger and humor. I shake my head. "Well, when you put it like that.." I trail off. He sort of laughs, and cracks his neck. I cringe. He knows I hate that. His deep voice giggles, and suddenly we're laughing at nothing, us almost on the ground rolling around in laughter. Gale wraps my head in his arms and wrestles with me, and I can't stop laughing it hurts. 

"Gale...stop...I can't...breathe.." I say in between laughs. He rubs the top of my head with his knuckles, and  then we're both on the floor, me trying to escape his arm, and him gripping tighter.

"Primrose." A voice calls. We both look up and stand up suddenly. Already? I didn't even hear the District 11 tribute come out. We must have been laughing so loud. I glance at Gale and he nods, reminding me of what he said. I swallow and walk into the room, my nerves acting up again.

The room looks different this year. The walls are designed to look like a field that you would find happy things occurring, not a blood bath. In front of me lay at least two doxen feet of grass, and an assorment of weapons are placed at my feet, allowing me to choose from any of them. I look at the Gamemakers, and they nod, ready for me to start.

I start with the knots, since I've just learned to master it. I tie a perfect knot that would catch someone by their foot, and nod approvingly to myself. I don't bother looking at the Gamemakers, afraid of what they'll think. Next I try my hand at camoflage. Peeta was superior at this. Well, because he was a cake froster. I easily blend the green onto my cheeks to make it look like a bush, but find it hard to mix the brown in to look like dirt and twigs. The Gamemakers scribble notes down and I cringe at the speed of their pencils moving. I gently put down the paint and try not to give into using the arrows. I want to save those for last. I pick up one of the knives and aim it for the dummy, a few feet away. It lands in the bullseye, and I smile. I look at the Gamemakers and their faces look un impressed, un entertained. 

"Prim," One of them says. I've never heard them talk during my session, only to call my name or dismiss me. "We want to see some more entertaining skills. We know you're excellent at knives, and arrows, and knots, but we want you to use those skills to entertain us more. It'll get you more sponsers." I look down and scowl. Entertain them? That's all they think this is? A joke? I clench my fists and try hard not to hit one of them. Why did I care if I did well or not? Gale said it, it doesn't matter what they think. Their opinions of me are just scribbled numbers on paper. I unclench my fists and grab the first arrow I see.

"You want entertainment?" I ask. "I'll give you entertainment." I raise the arrow to the ceiling, let it fly, and it crashes into the light, sending the huge heavy bulbs down to the Gamemakers. It hits the one who spoke to me on his head, and he falls to the ground, his hand covered in blood after grabbing his head. The other Gamemakers help him up and look towards me, but I'm already at the door. 

"Funny enough?" I ask as I slam the door open, dismissing myself.

*

"You did what?" Effie screams when I tell her what happened. I take a quick bite of our stewed meat and shrug my shoulders. Gale laughs to himself, and I even hear Haymitch snickering. "It wasn't that bad." I say reassuringly. Effie gasps as if I said that breathing could kill her. "Bad? That was horrible, Prim. You could've seriously injured him." She says. I shrug. "He shouldn't have said anything to me until I was done. I was doing perfectly, and then all of a sudden they tell me to be more entertaining. I wasn't there to be entertaining, I was there to show them my skills!" I cry. Effie shakes her head. "You're there to do as they ask, not get upset when you don't like what they want." She snaps. Haymitch opens his mouth to say something, but then quickly shuts it. Good. We don't need his input in the situation. I take a couple more bites of the meat and glare at Effie.

"I'm not their puppet." I say, letting Effie know I've dropped the subject. She folds her arms, and refuses to eat anymore, but after a couple of minutes, she gives in and finishes her stew. 

I'm the first one done and I excuse myself to the livingroom to wait for our scores. They won't come on for another ten minutes, but at least I get to day dream about what score I got. Probably a four, if even that. What I did was so "funny", that a four might not even be acceptable. Gale takes a seat next to me suddenly, and stares at me, trying hard not to laugh.

"What?" I ask, moving uncomfortably in my seat. He sighs and shakes his head. "When did you become such a rebel?" He asks. I shrug. "It's not like it happened overnight. This was working up slowly and slowly."

"Whatever." He says just as the television flickers on. Haymitch and Effie walk into the room just in time and stand behind the couch.

The first six tributes get a nine. No surprise there. I stare in awe when I see a little seven appear on the screen under Finnick Odair's name.

"Seven?" I say out loud, not believing it. A seven? But, him and Annie walked out of the room happy, like they already knew their score. And, he looks amazing. There's no way anybody would want to give him a seven. When Annie's name appears on the screen, a eight flashes underneath it.

"Well," Effie states. "looks like you might have a great score after all." I roll my eyes. Unlikely. The other names appear and most of them have a nine, two with a ten. Gale's picture shows suddenly, with his name, and a ten flashes. The room bursts into cheers, making it sound like twenty people are in the room instead of four. Gale waves off the congradulations, and points back at the television as my picture appears. I clutch the couch, and wait for my number to appear. But it never does. My picture remains still, my face smiling like the happiest kid in the world. No number ever flashes. The anthem in the background begins to play, and the television shuts off.

"W-where was my number?" I ask meekly. Gale reaches out to me and I back away. "I-I.." Haymitch starts, but even he can't find an explanation for this. I swallow the lump in my throat. I can't believe it. I can't believe President Snow would do this to me. The room falls silent as I clench my teeth and mutter to the television.

"Let the games begin, Snow."

*~*~*~*~*'

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