Peeta's Story

Chapter Four

   "Peeta Mellark!"

   I couldn't believe it.

   That was my name.

   I was to go to the Hunger Games and fight twenty-three other tributes in an arena for national television.

   I slowly stepped out of the crowd and into the aisle. Four Peacekeepers surrounded me and walked me to the stage. I still couldn't believe it. I stood at the edge of the stairs, frozen in place. I shook my head to clear it and marched up the steps. I stood beside Effie on the stage. She told us to shake hands. Me and Katniss looked at each other questioningly. Effie pushed us together so we would actually shake. When our hands connected, it was the first time we have ever purposely touched. She announced our names and asked for a round of applause for the first volunteer in years. Nobody clapped or whistled or congratulated us. They just put their three middle fingers up in the air as a sign of thanks, of admiration, of reverence. 

   They guided me and Katniss off the stage and into separate rooms. They did this so we could have a couple minutes alone with our family and friends to say goodbye. First, my father and mother come in. I feel like crying when I see them. They come in quietly and just hold me in their arms. My mother is usually pretty mean to me, but she was sad to see her son go to the Games. When they let go, I burst out crying. I may be a teenage boy, but I still cry when I won't get to see the people I love ever again. 

  "I'm going to miss you guys a lot," I say through tears. 

   "It's okay. Just be strong and don't let the other tributes get to your head," says my father encouragingly.

   "District twelve just might win this year," says my mother. 

   At first I thought she actually thought I could win, but then it hit me. She didn't think I could win, she thought Katniss could. I toughen up and stop crying. I face my parents with a straight face. There were still tear stains on my cheeks, but I still looked them in the eye. 

   "I will try my best in the arena, but if I don't win, tell my friends that it was good knowing them." 

   "Will do, son." 

   Even though my mother was rude to me, me and my father were close. I remember having fun baking with him when I was little. He would hold my hands as we kneaded the dough together. Those were good memories, but I have to let them go. I know I won't survive the Games, so I might as well forget about my life here. About my parents, my friends, about... Katniss. I have to let her go. I know she has a good chance of winning, so she may be able to have a life here after the Games. She could marry Gale and have children and be happy. As long as she is, I am too.

   My parents said goodbye, and I waited for my next visitor. There were none. Nobody else wanted to say goodbye to me before I went into an arena and got slaughtered. A Peacekeeper came in and told me to follow him. He escorted me to a car with darkened windows. A few moments later, Katniss joined me. She must have had more visitors than me. We were then whisked away to the train station. We had a special tribute train that was reserved for the tributes of the Games. When we exited the car, there were cameras everywhere. The paparazzi wanted a first look at the District twelve tributes. We were then ushered into this sleek, silver train that looked like a long bullet. As we entered, I was taken aback by the array of goodies and treats that awaited us. Katniss and I sat down in the chairs of the same car. Effie and a guy named Haymitch who was the last surviving victor joined us in the plush chairs. 

   "So what do we do to survive in the arena?" asks Katniss.

   "Stay alive," says Haymitch jokingly.

   "That's not a lot of advice. I thought you were supposed to give us that," says Katniss.

   "Well, I can decide what to say to you and when I want to," counters Haymitch.

   That shuts Katniss up for a while. I decide to use this moment wisely.

   "So what will we want to do as soon as we get in the arena?"

   "Hold your horses there cowboy," says Haymitch. "You're going to want to focus on the training session first."

   We talk for a while about the training. He says not to show off your best ability on the first day. Save it for when the Gamemakers officially judge you on the last day. I know Katniss will show them her archery skills. She is a great shot and hunter and we used to buy her game often. I will probably show them my strength. I'm pretty strong for my age. 

   I know we arrive in the Capitol train station because there are shouts like, "The tribute train has come!" or "There's District twelve!" I look out the window and wave at the Capitol people. 

   "Why are you waving?" asks Katniss.

   "You never know who could be a sponsor," I answer.

   "Smart boy," comments Haymitch.

   We exit the train with cameras flashing in every direction. We are guided to a very tall building with what looks to be twelve floors. We enter an elevator that takes us to the twelfth and top floor. Every district has their own floor to stay in for the next week. We are showed our rooms and are told that we are going to need to leave in about fifteen minutes. I get a good feel for everything and exit my room. I find everyone gathered in the living room. Haymitch says to obey whatever the stylists say. To not go against anything they tell us. We all leave and go to the preparation rooms at the entrance of where we will have the tribute parade. 

   The tribute parade is where designers from the Capitol come and dress up each tribute from all the Districts and they ride in horse drawn chariots down a road. At the end of the road is President Snow, waiting to greet the tributes. A lot of the Capitol will be in the stands outlining the path. 

   I am lead into a room where I meet my personal designer, Portia. She has poofy hair and bright makeup and extravagant clothing. I get bathed and waxed then polished and get a light layer of makeup. Your costume is supposed to have something to do with what your district is known for. For instance, District two is masonry or District seven is lumber. District twelve is coal. Most years the outfits are related to coal miners and usually consist of overalls and a miner's cap. I wonder what this year's costumes will be like.

   Portia comes out with a slightly glittering black jumpsuit with a cape.

   "Isn't it supposed to be coal?" I ask Portia.

   "It is. In a way. What does coal do?" says Portia

   "Burn. Like a fire," I answer.

   "Exactly. Me and Cinna, Katniss's stylist, thought that we should do something new, instead of doing plain old miner's ware. We wanted to make you guys stand out of the crowd," says Portia. "There will be flames coming off of your guy's jumpsuits. It won't be real flames, though."

   I slide into the jumpsuit and look at myself in the mirror as Portia zips me up. It does look dashing. Nobody will forget District twelve this year.

   "When you're ready just push the button inside your sleeve to start the flames," informs Portia.

   I am lead out to this chariot with black horses. I see Katniss and she looks amazing. Her hair and makeup are stunning. The look suits her very well. 

   "You look great," I say.

   "You too," replies Katniss. 

   As we load the chariot, we are told to wave and smile. When we start to move, the chariot seems a little unstable. I grab Katniss's hand out of instinct, so I won't fall over. She yanks her hand out of my grip. 

   "Please, I may fall out if I don't," I plead.

   She gives in and we hold hands as we reach the end of the tunnel. I don't think I will be able to let go.