The Hunger Games - Primrose Everdeen

Chapter seven

As I wait silently, patiently for my turn to try and impress the Gamemakers, all while knowing that my actions in just a few minutes may very well reflect upon my fate in the arena I can't help but ponder abouthow I will die. Who will die. This is how the victor may alone be crowned, in these next few minutes. There are numerous things to take note of, who is scared such as myself, and who is pumped and filled with adreniline - much like the two tributes, Clove and Cato, from District Two. But what I really notice is the young girl from District Eleven, Rue is her name, I think.. Just like me she is twelve-years-old.  Her eyes appear to keep wondering back to me. It's as if she's trying to make a life changing desion which given the circumstances she very well could be doing. Once the boy from District Ten is called and it's just Peeta, Rue, her district partner Thresh, and I left, Rue scooches over to my side.

"Hello?" I half greet, half question.

"Hi Prim." She shyly says. For a moment or two we're silent but it's her that speaks up first. "I saw you at some of the stations and was thinking that we'd make good allies. Wherever I am missing a valuable skill, you fill in for it. Together we'd form a perfect team."

I study her, making sure that she speaks honestly. "Sure, I don't see why not. But, um, you best know that I would never be able to, well, defend myself if we were being attacked..."

Rue purses her lips. "Yes, I figured so. Same with myself. It will be quite difficult." A smile replaces her firm exprection. "Maybe the other tributes will pass on from injuries."

The idea, somehow, is nice. Hopefully, though, if this were to be the case, they'd die pain free and peacefully. My mother and I have seen much to many pain filled, unpleasent deaths. Thinking about the children are the worst. The ones we could not save. I shudder at the thought. "Anyways, it's nice to meet you." I smile at my new allie.

She gives a small chuckle. "Surely you must have forgotten the circumstances that brought us together." 

That's right. When you are here for the Hunger Games there's no pleasure in meeting anyone that you stumble upon. From fellow tributes willing to drain the life out of you to the capitol citizens wanting to sponsor you. None of them are a joy to encounter.

Rue is called so the rest of us sit in silence until Thresh is to start his private session, signalling the end of Rue's session.

"Prim," Says Peeta. "You excell at survival. Don't doubt yourself. You could win. Go back home to Katniss."

"What?" Where did this come from? We don't talk then he tries to convince me that I could make it back to Twelve... "You're obsurd, Peeta! I could never win! Don't get my hopes up! I'm going to get such a low score in training that no one will even consider sponsoring me and then I'll most likely die in the arena! First night, definitely!"

"I'm just saying that if you're anything like Katniss you'll do whatever it takes to get back home." Peeta answers cooly.

"Well I'm not. She's much braver than I am." I bounce back. How can he even compare us? Her survival skills far outweigh mine. There isn't even a weapon I can use with lethal accuracy. Due to the obvious facts I'll be dead in a day. "Besides, if my winnings mean your ultimate death, why are you telling me this?"

"What if I die, too?" Replies Peeta. "There won't be a victor from our district."

I look him in his blue shinning eyes. "There hasn't been a victor from District Twelve in 24 years. One more year won't make a difference. Besides, no one is expecting us to win. No pressure."

"But if one of us were to win, for a whole year the District won't grow hungry. Isn't that enough to propel you to victory?" Asks Peeta hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Peeta. I just couldn't bring myself to killing other innocent children." My word's hang there, lingering in the air, catching in our minds and branding themselve's there until my name is called.

For a few moments, I hesitate at the door. Finally, with a big gulp of air, I walk through into the gymnasium. As I walk into the Training Center, the first thing I realize is that no Gamemaker - not even the head Gamemaker Seneca Crane - is even taking notice of my presence. Each one of them is absoulutely despicable. But there is no a thing that I can do.

without waiting any longer I go up to the knot-tying station and in just under thirty secounds I have a butterfly know that can very well come to use in the arena. I smile to myself proudly and look up to see if the Gamemakers have taken notice of it. Obviously, they haven't.

After carelessly rolling my eyes at them, I continue on to the camoflauge station. It's not what I'm best at, I'm not like Peeta with years of practice, but I'm not terrible either. Within ten minutes I have decorated my left arm so it blends in with the grass. The camoflauge doesn't matter, even without it I am invisible to the Gamemakers.

I sigh in defeat and spend the next five minutes throwing knives. Yesterday I discovered that it's the best choice of weapen for me. The knife usually hits the dummy but never any lethal areas. 

Finally, the Gamemakers dismiss me. "Thank you." I whisper under my breathe.

Like always the elevator ride up to my floor is quick and still gives the affect of soaring through the sky.

Quickly, I head to my room and change into something comfortable for dinner. It's still very early, around three-thirty, but I head to the dinning hall anyways. Like I suspected the table is empty and no one's to be seen. Good. All of the people here are starting to get on my nerves. An Avox - someone who has had there tongue surgically cut so they may never speak againg - enters to serve me. "It's okay." I telll the red-headed girl. "I don't need anything. Thank you." Right as she's about to walk out, I shout, "Wait! Sorry, my mind is cluttered. May I please have some chocolate milk, heated... So..." Oh, what's it called? I rack my brain for the answer. "Hot chocolate! Yes, that's it."

The Avox nods her head and turns to fetch me my drink. I wonder what her story is. What has she done that caused the Capitol to mute her for life? Take away what may have once been a beautiful life? Take away what may have once been a spectecular voice? Voices are amazing. They can do so many things. Laugh, lie, sing, scream, gossip, teach, tell stories. Now her poor voice is ceased. Stolen by the evil claws that is the Capitol.

I feel dead inside. The arena has already consumed me, deep into it's treserous bowls that I'll never escape from.