The Hunger Games - Primrose Everdeen

Chapter eleven

I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in forever. I had my cousins wedding to go to and I've been so busy with softball. Especially because in 2020 their bring softball back into the Olympics so I've been so busy improving on my softball skills. But anyways, thanks to my four readers. And if any of you are writing also, could you please mention this story in yours. It would really help. Leave a comment of the name of your story and I'll mention it too (Even if I only do have 4 readers D:) Okay, now to the story...

My heart pounds loudly in my chest. With each heart beat I grow more and more worried. The girl from District three takes her place on the stage and I calculate how many more minutes I have to wait before it's my turn. Each interwiew only lasts three minutes, so it will only be twenty four minutes until I'm up. Until all of Panem's eyes are on me. Focusing on my face and hearing every word I say. All of home will be watching. Each person that I care about can hear my young voice one last time before the arena.

No matter how patiently I wait., how calm I act, it's impossible for time not to pass much too quickly. Before I know it, the girl from District Ten is on the stage talking to Ceasar Flickerman (the interviewer of the Games). I try hard to pay attention, size up my competition, but I can't. The only time that I can pay attention is once Rue is up on stage. Watching her, my ally and all, is much easier to pay attention to. I find out that she has five other siblings which she is the oldest of. Apparently, she is also "hard to catch", because she is fast and can climb trees with ease.

In no time her interview is over. Thresh is up and I zone out again. Nothing matters, I'm just paying attenntion to my own personal small world. Images of home is the only place my mind is at, not the Capitol or arena. The interviews or my private quarters. Home, safe in my bed with Katniss by my side and my mother in the bed next to mine. Dreaming sweet dreams of my father. Or Katniss teaching me how to hunt. Not of the Reapings that cruely placed me here. Nothing about my new life, or the end of it all. Just a safe place. Pain is gone, happiness floods me. But it's dull. Numb joy. Although, it is better than sadness, I don't like it. In a strange way it almost startles me. Makes me want to run. Hide. Cry. I'm not sure really. Just something. Something other than sitting here.

Just as I shake out of my safe place I'm introduced onto the stage. With a large gulp, I walk onto the stage. The lights blind me. Each step I take is unsteady. The moment I reach the chair I sit down and smile, even though it feels completely wrong. 

"So Primrose how are you?" Ceasar asks me much too causually. His hair is blue, along with his makeup and suit. It's freakish. Is this considered fashion in the Capitol? I hope not, be is seems so... disturbing.

"Very good, Ceasar. Yourself?" I say kindly. Everything about my words are fake. I don't care about how he is doing nor am I doing well myself.

"Fine," Ceasar tells me. "How are you enjoying the Capitol?"

I want to roll my eyes. These questions are always to just warm the tribute up to being interviewed. Yet I'm fine and he's still asking them. "The food is delicous. The furnisher is comfortable. The buildings are facinating. Truely, it's just an amazing exprexience to be here."

"What else makes it an amazing experience?" Asks Ceasar curiously.

What's so wrong with my answer? Why can't he just leave it there? I think hard and then speak, "Knowing that if I win my sister and mother will never starve again." At least that was genuine, and true. Very true.

"You have a sister?" Ceasar wonders. Of course I do! I just said it! 

"Yes," I croak out. It's hard to tell so many people about my sister that I hold so dearly to my heart. "Her name is Katniss. She'd do anything for me."

Ceasar nods, finally please with one of my answers. "How old is she?"

"Sixteen." I blurt out. I see her face in my head. The brade running down her back. Our fathers old hunting jacket wrapped around her. Her gray eyes that would always promised me I'd never starve. A bow held fiercly in her hand. The one person that would give everything for me, couldn't save me when I needed it most. She could have won! Unlike me who will die! Anger rockets through me. Not because she didn't volunteer, but because I'm actually mad about it. Or at least I was mad. Now, thankfully, I'm over it.

"Ah... And she didn't take your place?" Says Ceasar. I hate you! All of you! Burn in hell! She wanted to! She really did!, I scream in my head.

"When I was telling her goodbye, She told me how sorry she was. That she was too shocked to take my place. It was as if she was frozen in time. Unable to move or think properly." I answer plainly.

He gives a reassuring smile. "Do you have hope that it was better that she didn't volunteer? That you'll make it back?"

"Yes, I do." Now is the time. Those desperately needed words. But I don't say them. I choke up and don't say another word.

What will he say next? Have I lost my one and only opportunity? "How hard is it to keep that hope?" He wonders.

Yes! Thank you Ceasar! Thank you for giving me one last chance. "It's not easy," I begin. "Constant hard work. the reward for it, keeping the hope with me, doesn't come 'till the very end. If it even comes..." Take a deep breathe and continue. You're doing fantastic, I tell myself. "But a vision. A vision of home keeps me going. My sister hugging me once more. That's the only fuel I need to keep me going." Not as good as I thought. Haymitch was off, way off. They may grab a few sponsors attention, but not nearly enough that I must have for survival.

"Tell me more about that vision." Demands Ceasar as if he's writing an article about my life. 

"Well, it's the moment I get home from the Games. When the train would drop me off, the whole District is celibrating their third victor ever. First in twenty four years. We run straight for eachother. Not hesitating a single moment." My answers are getting better, I think. Is it acceptable or am I just getting use to stupid answers? Either way, it's fine with me.

More questions that I just want to squash like a bug crawling across the kitchen floor. But I can't. No one can. Finally, just as I'm about to run off the stafe, my three minutes are up. Ceasar covered everything. From the tribute parade, being lite on fire, to my six in training. He says that for my age that was quite good. Then I complained, "Well, I think it should have been a seven honestly. With my aim, I mean it isn't amazing, but it's well enough." Now I'm nervous that the Gamemakers took it the wrong way. That the moment I take a step into the arena they'll blow me sky high. Honestly, they probably will. So much for hope...

Short, yes. Only, though, because YOU haven't wrotten any comments -.-