Hunger Games (Peeta's POV)

4

Me and Katniss just stare at Haymitch, neither one of us wanting to touch the drunken man in his own mess. We watch as he struggles to stand. We share a glance before stepping forward to help him, with no other choice available. Effie may have reminded us horribly, but she was right. He's our one shot. 

I take the lead, helping Katniss get him back to his compartment. I lead us to his bathtub, turning the shower on him. He's so far gone, he barely notices. 

"It's okay," I say to Katniss, "I'll take it from here." 

She gives me a grateful look then offers to send one of the capitol people to help me. 

"No, I don't want them," I say, honestly. They would just get in the way of my alone time. Haymitch doesn't even count as company in my mind. 

I slowly wash Haymitch. Being careful as to not focus too hard on what I'm doing. By the time I get him dressed and in bed, he's begun to sober up. He mutters a thank you and I take it as my cue to leave. I head to my compartment, trying to ignore the loneliness that creeps into my mind. The idea that I'll never be close to someone ever again. That no one will trust me ever again, they'll only see me as a threat. Even Katniss has begun to separate herself from me. Not to say we were close in the first place. 

When I make it back to my room, I sit on the bed, staring out the window. Letting myself wonder about the lights we're passing. They must be from another district. Six? Maybe Seven? I'll never know the answer, but a dying boy doesn't need to know the answer to his questions. They simply don't matter. 

I imagine my home. Most families with a reaped child would close their doors and turn out their lights. Not mine. I know that they'll keep the bakery running and open, even tonight. I try to not let that hurt me. 

I'd never seen Katniss' house, but I could imagine it. Shutters drawn tight, television on, watching for any sign of her alive. Weeps echoing off the walls. For a moment, I am quite happy that my family would keep on with the bakery, because the flip side is so much worse. 

I think back to this morning, with Gale buying bread. It feels like years ago. This couldn't possibly be the same day. But, it is. The worst part is, I know I have to savor it because I have a limited number of days left. That night, I cry myself to sleep. 

I wake before Effie's voice can do the job for me. I walk through the train into the dining car. Haymitch is already sitting at the table when I enter, he looks more sober than I've ever seen him. I sit and we exchange pleasantries. 

"Thank you for last night," he says. Sincerely before breaking into a grin, " I hope you didn't stare too long." 

The embarrassment of what he's implying lights up my cheeks as Katniss enters the room. Haymitch's laughter drowning out her footsteps. 

He calls for her to join us, motioning for the capitol workers to load her plate with food. I sip the drink in front of me and savor its flavor. Haymitch whispers the name to me while Katniss is distracted. So, when she turns to the cup in front of her, I say, "They call it hot chocolate, It's good." 

She drinks it greedily as I watch. When Haymitch is able to catch my eye, he smirks. I ignore it. 

We eat until we're full. Something I can't ever truly remember feeling in District Twelve, at least not like this. 

"So you're supposed to give us advice," prods Katniss. Saying what I've been thinking since I woke. 

"Here's some advice, stay alive." he says, before bursting out laughing. Not unlike I had the night before. This time, I don't see the humor in it. Me and Katniss exchange a look of anger. He owes us something, we both know that. 

"That's very funny," I start, before knocking the glass out of Haymitch's hand. The sound of it shattering giving me immense pleasure, "Only not to us." 

Without warning, he punches me in the jaw, harder than I thought he would be able to. 

As he reaches to fill his glass again, Katniss goes to stab him. That's what I believe until the knife hits the table. I know she wouldn't have missed if she had been going for his hand. 

"Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" says Haymitch to no one in particular. 

I collect ice and raise it to my jaw, trying to subside the swelling I can feel beginning, "No, let the bruise show."

I raise my eyebrows at Haymitch's words, "The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it into the arena."

I remind him that it's against the rules, but he counters that with, "Only if they catch you." 

"The bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better," he explains, "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"

I'm grateful that the attention is turned off of me. I didn't want to be talked down to by Haymitch anymore. I look to Katniss for the answer to his question. I've never heard of her using any weapon besides her bow. She dons a look of concentration, staring at the wall before throwing the knife. It lands between the seam of two panels. She actually has a fighting chance in these games, we could get her home, I realize. With Haymitch being sober and me working to help her, we may be able to send home a victor rather than a corpse. 

Haymitch calls us to stand before him. We obey, trying to keep him on our side. He begins poking and prodding our muscles and faces, inspecting us. At the end of the examination, he informs us that we're not entirely hopeless and are attractive enough. I think this is the closest thing to a compliment I'll ever get from him.   

He offers us a deal, a deal I never thought we'd get. He offers to stay sober enough to help us if we do exactly what he says. There's no hesitation in my voice when I speak, "Fine."

I know this is the only deal we'll get, so I accept it. Katniss begins to speak, trying to get more out of him. But, he silences her, giving us simple instructions. Instructions to not resist what our stylists do to us. I think of the years our tributes have been naked and I swallow down my argument. 

As Haymitch exits the car, it falls dark. The kind of dark that can only be achieved underground. I realize we're in a tunnel. I look towards Katniss, knowing she's always struggled being underground, she has since her dad died. I've seen it every year we take a school trip to the mines. 

When the light returns, Katniss and I run to the windows, each eager to  see what we've only seen on television, the Capitol. People point at the train, quickly recognizing a tribute train. Katniss steps away, but I can't help it, I wave and smile at the crowd. My hope is to win someone over, maybe a sponsor or two. 

I notice Katniss' eyes on me and speak my thoughts, "Who knows? One of them may be rich."

I think back through all of my actions in the last two days and feel a plan forming, If I can't get home, I want Katniss to. It'll earn food and gifts for our District, I want them to have it all. I won't give up, I will try, but I will not fail without pushing her into the lead. That's the promise I make myself. That day, I convince myself that we will be sending home a victor.