Thunder ➳ Peeta Mellark

III. Puppet Master

CHAPTER THREE

III. PUPPET MASTER

                       "EXTRAORDINARY turn of events here in District Nine," Roman announces to a horde of stunned people at the Reaping. Atticus had volunteered in place of Radley, turning the traditional drawing into a dramatic sequence of moments.

           "Now, correct me if I'm wrong but, that young man you have just taken the place of is your brother?"

         "Yes."

           "And Diana, correct me if I'm wrong, but Radley and Atticus are your siblings?"

          "Yes."

           "Wow! Remarkable.. just remarkable." Roman paused in awe. "Ladies and gentlemen, your 74th annual District Nine tributes!"

              Sitting in the room, Diana sat on the opposite side from Atticus, staring at him. How did he have it in him? To volunteer when he himself was barely a boy? Atticus's head lay in his hands, rubbing the dark brown curls on top of his scalp.

             "I can see you staring, Diana, I'm not blind-"

               "Why'd you do it?"

              "Di-"

               Diana raised from her seat and became harsher with the tone of her voice. "Radley and I promised to keep you safe and- damn it- we sure as hell can't do that if you go volunteering! What were you-"

             The door slammed open and Radley as well as their father came rushing in. Her father pulled her in for a strong hug, burying his head in her shoulder. "My angel, I'm so sorry."

           On the other hand, Radley had seized Atticus's grey shirt into a fist. "Why'd you do it? Huh? To win some stupid dare?"

"No."

"Because I'm sick?"

"No."

"Because I'm weak? Dying?"

"No!"

     "Then give me a clue, Atti. Because I can't seem to figure out what could've made you suddenly so idiotic to volunteer like that!" The veins on Radley's forehead protruded, his breathe coming out hot before finally letting go of the boy's shirt.

       Wrapping his arms around Atticus, the older brother's jaw quivered as he sobbed. "It was supposed to be me, not you."

        Atticus loosened his tense stance and embraced the distraught brother. Diana soon joined in and their father did too. It was their small family, huddled together, for what may be the last time.

Dipping the knife into the yellow squares of butter, Ceres moved the creamy spread across the thick slice of bread on his plate. Diana watched as the man took a bite into his food, seeing the pleasure arise.

Her blue eyes curiously wandered to all parts of her surroundings. The train was filled from ceiling to floor with luxurious decorations and fine china for breakfast plates. The sheets had gold embroidery, and the napkins folded in swans. Her father would've laughed at the flashy accessories of the Capitol; She missed him already.

Atticus starred at the wide arrangement of jams and openly debated which to use first.

Ceres chuckled at the boy, glancing at Diana. "This train goes two hundred fifty miles an hour-"

"Yet they can't bother to send more supplies to the Districts?"

Ceres smirked. "Honey, the Capitol's needs are placed in an entirely different category than our pathetic necessities."

Diana smiled and so did Atticus. "So when does training begin?" the green eyed boy asked.

"Soon enough."

"Which is?" Diana pressed.

The victor found the question humorous. "Why the rush? The clock has a lot of rounds before the games-"

"I don't care how much time we have or don't have, we're going into an arena with trained killers who've prepared their whole life," the girl barked.

"Listen sweetheart, the first step you have to learn is winning over the Capitol-"

"I could care less about the Capitol."

"Yeah but it doesn't matter if you care about them or not," Atticus interjected," Support from the Capitol equals sponsors, sponsors equal food, medicine, weapons-"

"See! Someone understands!" Ceres smiles.

The window outside the train flashed, dark then light. Dark, then light. Until a splash of pastel filled the outside, hundreds, maybe thousands of Capitol people, holding on the station's platform.

Atticus stared out the window, sharing smiles and waves to men and women and children with hideous outfits and big, bold hairstyles. "Diana, you've got to see this!"

        Diana huffed, folding her arms as she gazed at her freshly shined shoes. "I can't believe you, Atti."

     "Believe it, princess." Ceres stood up, folding his arms and revealing a smirk on his face. "Looks like little brother understands the difference between being the puppet master, and the puppet."

           He's right, Diana thought to herself. The train halted and Capital people of all ages and outfits bombarded the platform. All called for Atticus's attention, hollering and waving feverishly.

         This is how the tables turn, how to be in control. The Capital is the only way we'll get out alive. The Capital's affection is what we need, to pull the strings, Diana realized.

          I am no puppet. But the game makers will soon be.