The Hunger Games: Prim [REWRITING]

Chapter 2: The Odds

Chapter 2

: The Odds

Is it possible to have the same nightmare twice? It must be, because I'm having yet the same dream again. It's a dream, it has to be. Frantically, I close my eyes, hoping to feel Buttercup at my side, hoping to find myself laying down on rough canvas.

No such luck. I open my eyes and the scene is crystal clear. I feel blood drain from my face. I hear people murmur around me, unhappy. Of course. It isn't fair to have small, weak, 12 year olds in an arena full of vicious 18 year olds who've been trained to kill. Of course. It isn't fair, it isn't probable, but it's the very reality I seem to be living.

Hands clenched in fists at my sides, I take in a deep breath before taking stiff, small steps towards the front. One foot, after the other, one step, then to another— I feel my pace pick up with each and every step. I swiftly make my way past the 13 year olds, 14 years old, then I find myself walking past Katniss. Tears threaten to spill as I pass by my sister for what will probably be the last time in my short life of 12.

"Prim! Primrose!" Katniss cries out, her voice ringing throughout the courtyard. I feel her grab my wrist and pull me into a deep hug. "Primrose, you don't have to go. Stay here with Mom. I'll volunteer for you."

"Katniss." I almost choke on the word. Two paltry syllables, but two that mean the world to me nonetheless. "Katniss, please. Don't. I can't live without you." And before I dare let the tears flood, I pull away and stiffly continue my walk up onto the stage.

Effie is as bright and bubbly as ever. She welcomes me to the stage, to the podium, and has me stand beside her as she reaches for the mic with her pristine, groomed hand. I look out at the crowd and feel the gaze of the whole district fixed on me. For some reason, my eyes find those of the girl who stood beside me at the back of the crowd. The one who gave me a smile just before my name was called. But it's painful, so I let my gaze drift and scan the rest of the crowd aimlessly.

"A big round of applause for our female tribute, Primrose Everdeen!" Effie claps, gesturing for us to all join in. No one does. Why would they? Suddenly, I detect movement in the crowd. It's Katniss. I watch her take her three middle fingers, touch them to her lips, and extend them towards me. And one by one, everyone follows. Everyone but the cameramen, guards, and escort from the Capitol. I watch Rory as he does the same, unable to look up. He stares down at his shoes. Three fingers. A sign from our district meaning thanks, honor, and farewell.

What breaks this meaningful moment is none other than a drunken Haymitch who stumbles towards me with a lazy grin. He grabs me by the shoulders and looks me up and down, making me feel uncomfortable. I try to pull away but his grip is surprisingly strong.

In a slurred whisper, he mumbles, "I like her." Then louder, facing the cameras, he booms, "I like this kid!" He stumbles towards a camera panning from side to side in front of us, but finds himself plummeting off the stage, knocking himself unconscious.

I'm quite thankful for the attention he attracts. Attention, drawn away from me, and into the panicked crowd below. As the cameras follow him, I allow myself to take deep breaths and recollect my wits and guts I've seem to have left somewhere amidst the crowd. I look out past the crowd, past the building, and out towards the seemingly never ending hills. They're beautiful against the blues, greys, and clouds of the sky. Clouds. Clouds fill the horizon and loom overhead.

"What an exciting day!" Effie declares. Her voice sounds like that of a child's on Christmas morning. A truly exciting day, unlike this one. I try not to linger too much on negative thoughts. I look back up at the sky because it helps me stop thinking about my imminent death. One cloud is shaped like a small rabbit. I like rabbits.

"And now, for the boys!" Effie calls out, skipping over to the other bowl. Skipping. I can't believe her enthusiasm. I can almost hear her hand swishing around in the bowl, fishing for a single slip. Just don't let it be Rory. Please, keep Rory safe. He doesn't deserve any of this. I go back to letting my gaze drift across the crowd. He doesn't deserve this. But neither do I.

I guess I had some luck left after all, because when Effie skips back to the podium, she doesn't call out his name, but "Peeta Mellark!" He's a boy with blond, ashy hair, medium height, and a stocky build. I recognize him as the boy from the bakery. His pale blue eyes are full of fear. Like a deer in headlights. I try not to stare too much. I let my eyes fall down to my shoes, the shoes Mom picked carefully for me last night, no doubt. I try to look for her in the crowd of parents behind the ropes that corral the children. I find her with Buttercup in her arms.

"Any volunteers?" Effie asks. My eyes find Katniss and I watch in horror as she opens her mouth, but I shake my head no forcefully. Please. I've already lost Dad. I can't lose you too.

"Oh well then!" Effie says, bouncing back to her seat beside Mayor Undersee. He gets up and walks to the podium to fill her spot. And off he goes, reciting the Treaty of Treason.

* "In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public reaping. These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol, and then transferred into a public arena, where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth, and forevermore, this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."

The Hunger Games. Katniss once told me her opinion, that the Games probably isn't the best way to keep districts under control. But it's worked this long. Why would it stop now?

I look up at Peeta, his eyes telling me, I'm terrified. I remember once, back when our family almost died of starvation, Katniss came stumbling home, soaked in rain from head to toe, holding onto two loaves of warm bread for dear life. From the bakery. They were burnt, and a tad wet, but it was these two loaves that kept us from starving. These were what kept us alive. Peeta must bake wonderful things. I think to myself. He doesn't deserve to be here no more than anyone else in the crowd. I frown. None of us deserve this.

I can't stop myself from thinking about the food left at home. The food we left for the supposed feast we'd have tonight for getting through yet another reaping. But we'd counted our chickens one day too soon. I'm not going home today. No, I won't be going home, and Katniss and Mom will go home to face an empty chair at an empty table.

Someone shakes my shoulder. It's Mayor Undersee. He motions for me to shake hands with Peeta, and so we do. Our eyes meet, and I feel his grip tighten in a reassuring squeeze. His hands are soft, warm, and comforting.

We turn to look at the crowd, the anthem plays, and the reaping is over. A few weeks, and we'll both be dead, Peeta and I. Hopefully someone else will kill me before he may have to. I sure hope so. But then again, the odds haven't been very dependable lately.

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I don't even know what good writing feels like anymore. It's been so long. How's everyone? I'm good. Going back to school on Wednesday. Should be great. I'm really looking forward to soccer season, and tennis maybe. We'll see. It's been a long summer. Travelled across the East Coast. Soccer camp was probably my favorite part. But now I'm back home and have time to write :)

Here's a short chapter— nothing too exciting. But I'll start uploading weekly now. I know it's been a long wait so I apologise for that! I also probably used 'gaze' and 'eyes' far too many times in this one little chapter but OH WELL, please deal with my bad writing. Like I said, it's been a while since I've wrote anything much... had a really REALLY easy year of English the past year. I'm VERY out of practice.

Threw in TWO musical references :) Catch them both and I'll love you forever.

| illiterate-writer |

aka Monica

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* Taken from <The Hunger Games> film