A Hunger Games Fanfiction: Prim's Games ||Book One||

Chapter 4.5

Katniss

We watch through twenty-two tributes before Prim finally comes. She's in a gorgeous knee-length coal-black dress. She's clean, and looks as if she's gained a few pounds. That's good. She sits up on that stage, looking like she's not all there, but deep in thought.

"So, Prim, what's your favorite part of the Capitol?" The host, Caesar Flickerman, asks.

"I love the clothes I've been able to wear. The bodysuit for the parade, and now this dress. I feel like a princess!"

I'm glad she's able to feel beautiful. No matter how short the time is.

"It is gorgeous. Now, Prim. Tell me, what do you think of your fellow tribute, Peeta Mellark? Is he a friend, or had you never met him till now?"

"Oh, Peeta? Peeta is like a big brother to me. One day, my older sister was starving and he tossed her some bread. Even risked a beating for her. I got to eat two whole days in a row. After that, he came over every day. He's very protective of me. One time a man tried to steal my cheese as I brought it into town, and Peeta saw and protected me. That's why I think when it comes down to it, I won't be able to kill him. He's too amazing of a person."

What? Yes, he accidentally burnt some bread. His mother beat him and told him to give it to the pigs. Instead, he tossed it to me. And we didn't starve. But coming over everyday? No. I've never spoken to the boy!

Now she looks nervous. Because what she said was a lie. But the audience seems to be so touched by the story. They're all trying not to cry, wiping their eyes with handkerchiefs.

When Peeta comes up, he looks like he's trying not to look baffled. When asked about Prim's story, and if it's true, he says, "Most of it."

Most? Less than half was true! I'm trying not to be mad at Prim. Maybe she had a good reason. But I can't say I wanted the whole world to know about the bread.

I get up and set my plate on the counter. I don't know what to think. I suppose it's not my problem.

I settle into bed and think. What will happen tomorrow? Will Prim go straight into the middle of the bloodbath, or will she find shelter? Will it hurt, or no, because I expected it?

It will most likely hurt.

*********************

Beech

I skip a stone across the water. I imagine each stone carrying every one of my problems, then them dropping to the bottom of the lake.

Elm is in the games. Skip, skip, skip, skip, plop.

I may never see him again. Skip, skip, skip, plop.

We're all starving. Skip, skip, plop.

Birch will be entered in the reaping next year. Skip, plop.

Next year is the Quarter Quell. Plop.

I'm out of stones and I fall to the ground. Why does this happen? Why can't we muster the courage to confront the Capitol again? If we did, we'd probably lose District 12 and maybe have two Hunger Games a year. I don't want that.

I watched the parade yesterday, and I'm distressed by how many younger tributes there are. A couple girls who can't be older than twelve. Elm. This isn't fair.

I wish I could do something about this.

I wish I could save him.