Rise From the Ashes

Chapter Four

I wake the next morning slightly disoriented. I blink and sit up. My clothes from last night are still clean but crumpled on the floor. I pull them on and walk to the dining room. I find Haymitch and Gale eating breakfast. Effie is drinking black coffee and mutter under be breath.

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch says waving me over. As soon as I've sat down a giant platter of food is placed in front of me. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes, tureen of fruit in ice to keep it cold, a glass of what I think is orange juice, a cup of coffee, enough rolls to keep me and the Everdeens fed for a week, a brown cup of something I've never seen.

"They call it hot chocolate. It's good." Gale says. I take a sip and a shudder runs through me. I ignore my food as I drink the cup of hot chocolate. Once I've finished it I stuff all I can hold, being careful with the rich stuff. Once my stomach feels like splitting I lean back to watch my breakfast companions. Gale is breaking apart a roll and dipping it in his hot chocolate. Haymitch hasn't touched his food and is instead drinking a red juice that he keeps adding a clear liquid to. Judging from the fumes it's a spirit. I barely know Haymitch but I've seen him buying from the woman who sells white liquor enough. He'll be incoherent by the time we reach the Capitol.

It makes me detest Haymitch. No wonder district twelve never stands a chance. It's not just because we lack food and training. Some of our tributes could've won. But we rarely get sponsors and he's a big reason why. The rich people who back the tributes want someone classier to deal with.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice." I remind Haymitch.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." Haymitch says before bursting out laughing. I exchange glances with Gale. His eyes are hard, which isn't surprising, Gale always had a temper.

"That's funny." Gale says before he knocks Haymitch's glass. It shatters on the floor and sends the bloodred liquid running toward the back of the train. "Only not to us."

Haymitch considers this for a moment and then punches Gale in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. When he reaches back for the spirit I drive my knife into the table inches from his hand. I tense waiting for his hit but it doesn't come. Instead he sits back and takes us in, squinting.

"Well, what's this?" Says Haymitch. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Gale gets up and scoops up a handful of ice from where the fruit tureen sits. He starts to bring it the red mark blooming on his jaw.

"No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena." Haymitch says stopping him.

"That's against the rules." Gale says.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, but you weren't caught, even better." Haymitch says. He turns to look at me. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?"

Like Katniss, my weapon is a bow and arrow. But I'm the best in that group with a knife. I rarely miss. If I want Haymitch's attention, I need to make this moment count. I grab the knife, get a good grip on the blade, and then throw it. I was just aiming to get a good stick but it lodges between two panels, making me look better then I am.

"Stand over there. Both of you." Haymitch orders nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding at us like animals, checking our muscles, and examining our faces. "Well you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get ahold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

The hunger games aren't a beauty contest but the best looking tributes always seem to get more sponsors.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. Don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say." Haymitch says. It's not much but it's still bounds more than what we had a few minutes again when we had no guide.

"Fine." Gale says.

"So help us. When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-" I start.

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be able it in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. No matter what it is, don't resist." Haymitch says.

"But-" I begin.

"No buts. Don't resist." Says Haymitch. He picks up the bottom of spirits and leaves the car. It soon becomes dark like it's night. There are still lights in the train but outside it's like night time. We must be going through the mountains. The mountains are a large reason the districts lost the war. With no other way to get to the Capitol they had to scale the mountains leaving them open for air attack.

We stand in silence as the train rushes through the tunnels. My breath catches in my throat as I think about the rock above me. I hate being trapped below rock. It reminds me of the mines and my parents death.

The train finally slows and suddenly light floods the train. We run to the window to see the Capitol, something we've only seen on the television. The cameras don't do it justice. In fact it might mute the colours. The pink and the yellow are blinding to look at. The people soon start pointing and talking excitedly as they realize what we are, that this is a tribute train. I hold my ground with Gale as we wave. We stop when we pull into the station. Who knows, one of them may be rich. But as I stand there I realize, Gale is still fighting to survive. Which means he's fighting to kill me.