The Volunteer - Gale Hawthorne

Chapter Thirteen

I leave the room, satisfied with how accurately I managed to shoot the bow and throw the machete and knives. The Gamemakers showed no sign of me having a great or a terrible score. They were completely stoic. Except for the fact that they now know what weapons I prefer. 

I step into my bedroom, located not far from Peeta. I have only a few minutes alone before I have to go out and watch the television to find out my score, as well as the other 23 Tribute's scores. I walk into my bathroom and splash my face with cold water. My situation is becoming real. While I don't regret volunteering for Prim, I do feel like going into the Games was a dumb decision. What can I do now, though? Absolutely nothing. 

"They're going live!" I hear Effie's very shrill voice coming from the livingroom of the penthouse. Without an actual response, I walk out of my bathroom and into the large room, where Peeta, Haymitch, Effie, and Cinna are all sitting, eyes now glued to the screen. I walk behind the large couch, bearing my hands down on it, my eyes finding Caesar Flickerman, being his strange self. 

As the photos and names begin flashing on the screen, intimidation and nerves begin kicking in, especially when I see that Cato scores a 10. Being competitive, I absolutely need a higher score than Cato. I watch the screen religiously, not wanting to miss a single score. The little girl from 11 got a 7. Surprising. 

"Peeta Mellark: an eight." Caesar says, surprise very evident in his voice. Suddenly, everyone moves to the edge of their seat, seeing how well I did without any actual training. 

"Lily Everdeen: a thirteen." Gasps fill the room as the number flashes beneath my photo, along with Caesar's absolutely shocked voice. No one had ever gotten a thirteen before. It doesn't exist. Twelve is the highest. 

"That is incredible!" Haymitch says after turning the television off. He stands up and turns to face me, holding his hand out. I shake it loosely, still taken aback by my score. 

"Congratulations, you two. Now, get plenty of rest tonight. Tomorrow, you have to prepare for your interviews." Effie says in her Capitol accent. I sigh before going to my bedroom, elated at my score, especially the fact that it's higher than Cato's. 

I walk into the large bathroom, turning the shower to scalding, knowing it'll be one of my last before the Games are over. May as well make it count. I scrub at my scalp relentlessly, praying that I can get it clean enough to last the Games, although knowing that is impossible. Luckily, though, I'll probably be able to wash, or at least rinse, my hair out with whatever water source I find, as long as there is one. 

I hadn't considered the fact that maybe there wouldn't be any water source. Maybe all I will have is the water from the trees. Maybe I'll end up having to make a spile, which wouldn't be a first. I've made them before. Hell, they may have poisoned the water sources. Trees are probably the safest way to go without alerting anyone by a fire or by dying from poison. 

As I step out of the shower, I am smothered by the steam. To air the bathroom out, I open my bedroom door, only to find Peeta sitting on my bed. Staring at me. Butt ass naked.