Peeta: in the arena with Prim

Chapter 4

As I step into the train, I can't clearly process what's going on. I'm flooded with emotions and thoughts, but I'm surrounded by what I could only ever imagine. I look to my left and find racks on racks of hot, fresh food. A long table with a fancy white covering is in the center of the room. To the right, an assortment of alcohols. As I walk down the long, narrow hallway, I come to a complete stop. I step into a room that has a large television, and a wide sofa that could easily fit my whole family. I sit down and sink into the plush, white material. This is so much comfier than anything back home. Home...Katniss...

I must have dosed off, because the next thing I know I'm being called to the dining room by Effie.

"Come along, children! We have a very busy schedule," she beams. I sit up and comb through my hair with my fingers. Before going to the dining room, I decide to go into my room, so I can put on something that will please Effie.

I walk straight across the hall and stop in my tracks. I gawk at the enormous size of just this one room. I walk on the blue, plushy carpet to a white-wooden dresser. I open it and finds way more clothes then I would ever need. I decide on a maroon, long-sleeved t-shirt and a newer pair of black trousers. I take one last look at the room, and notice their is a bathroom attached to it. A pleasure only Capitol citizens have. How come they can have all of this fancy stuff and we merely get their scraps? I shake the thought. As I flip the light switch, a luxury no one has back home, I leave my room and make my way to the dining room.

I sit across from Effie. I tune out what she's babbling about. I have more important things to worry about, like how I'm going to stay alive, and how I'm going to keep Prim safe. Prim! I come out of my daze, my eyes searching the room. I don't see her.

"Effie, where's Prim?" I ask.

"Oh, she must not have heard me. Would you be a dear and go get her? I believe her room is towards the end of the hallway."

"Sure," I respond, rising from my seat. I wander down the hallway, looking at the artwork on the walls. I sometimes decorate the cakes at the bakery back home, so I know a bit about painting. As I reach Prim's room, I can hear her sniffling. Poor Prim. She's so young, she doesn't deserve any of this. None of us do, really. I knock on the door as gentle as I can, and I hear her shuffle across the room to the door. I wait for her to open it, but she doesn't.

"Prim?" I ask, making sure she's actually in there.

"I don't want to come out!" She cries, noticeably panicked.

"Well..if you don't want to come out, can I come in?" I try to sound as comforting as I can.

"I don't know i I'm in the mood, Peeta," she murmurs.

"I'll be quick. Come on Prim, please?"

The door whisks open and I'm facing Prim, who's clearly been crying. Her face is red and flushed, like how mine had been earlier today. She moves out of the doorway and I step inside.

"Can we talk for a minute, Prim?" She just looks up at me, so I continue. "Look, I know that this is a bad situation and it's scary. At least that's how I feel right now. But I have to try, and so do you." I sit down on her bed, and motion for her to sit next to me. "And you never know, maybe something good will do come out of this."

"Like what?" Prim whispers to me, unsure.

"Well, you can make some new friends in training," I say, knowing that's not affective. We both know that all but one of us are going to die.

"I guess," she says, tracing the bedspread pattern with tiny finger.

"And," I try to think of something positive that can come out of this. "- have you tried the food? It's amazing. Do you want to come try it? You won't regret it."

She has a grin forming on her lips. "Sure." She responds. So we walk to the dining room together in silence.

We're almost to the dining room when she stops me.

"Peeta?" She says, and looks up at me.

"Yeah, Prim?" I answer as gentle as I can sound.

"Thank you for making me feel better," she says and gives me a quick hug.

"Of course," I say, relieved she feels better. As we approach the dining room, Effie looks flustered.

"Where is he?!" She fumes, pacing back and forth.

"Who?" Prim asks curiously.

"Haymitch. Let me go fetch him." She says in disgust as she paces out of the room.

"Who's Haymitch?" Prim wonders aloud. She glances at me, waiting for an answer.

"He's our mentor," I tell her. "He'll help us to get sponsors."

"Is he the guy who stumbled off of the stage last year at the Reaping?"

"Yep, that's the one," I mutter, kind of worried. He has one the games before, but he's a drunkard now. I don't think I've ever seen him without a bottle in his grasp.

A wave of nerves and anger both surge into my mind. He won't be worried about us surviving. He'll either be too drunk to care or passed out at a bar somewhere. I just wish we at least had a mentor who would bother to ask us our names. From watching the other games every year, he doesn't seem like much of a help to anyone.

My thought are interrupted as Effie struts back in the room, with a drunken Haymitch on her heels. He's wobbling on his toes, trying to steady himself. He stands still only to vomit, and Prim and I exchange glances at each other.

"That is mahogany!" Effie yelps as she pinches her nose shut to block the stench. "I'm going back to my room!" She says in disgust, and walks down the hall as fast as she can in her heels.

Haymitch comes toward us, but slips in his vomit. As Haymitch continues this cycle, I steal a look at Prim. And by the look on her face, I can tell we're thinking the same thing: how in the world is this man going to keep us alive?