The Mentor - A Hunger Games Story

8 - BEFORE

"Absolutely not." Haymitch hissed out of his teeth.

"I don't think we have a choice, there buddy." Maislee patted him on the shoulder, but quickly retracted her hand when he cast her a deadly glare.

The small boy, whose name was Carter, was already decked out in his District 12 costume. He was practically drowning in the fabric, which was a glorified coal-mining uniform. It had none of the practically padded knees and elbows or belt filled with tools. It was basically a black jacket paired with a helmet and a light attached. A flimsy light at that. He had stage makeup on, depicted coal residue all over his cheeks and forehead. Haymitch had refused to let his cosmetics team do that to him. All he let them do was gel back his hair slightly. Even that was ridiculous.

Rydell was zipping up her jacket, looking as thrilled as Haymitch felt. Maislee's makeup team had given her a bold smokey eye, and her blonde hair fell down in waves underneath the helmet.

They were in an underground compartment, which he knew was above the stretch that led to the capitol building. The four of them would be forced to stroll down the corridor, waving and smiling in their unrealistic costumes, like prized pigs.

"When would a miner ever have that hairstyle?" Haymitch protested.

Maislee shrugged, straightening out Rydell's hair for her. The latter looked annoyed, but accepted the help. Her cosmetics team had tried to give her similar waves to Maislee, but she was clearly uncomfortable with all of her hair down. Maislee helped her tie it back in a low pony-tail beneath her helmet.

"Oh, I don't know," Maislee paused, finishing Rydell's hair. "Maybe when their entire life depends on the rich assholes that are waiting to watch us?"

She glared at Haymitch, who nodded his concession. Rydell chuckled, and Carson looked down at his shoes, as if speaking ill of the capitol residents was a sin.

"Fine." Haymitch groaned, zipping up the insulting jacket and throwing on his helmet.

None of the three hardly looked his way as he swept the hair out of his face. Haymitch was not a shallow person - just observant. And he had observed many girls fawning over him and his looks and his hair. But Maislee and Rydell seemed uninterested. Maybe it was just their dire circumstances.

Haymitch swallowed his never-ending retorts and got on their ridiculous float. The girls waved and smiled, while Carter nervously stuck his hands in his pockets and sheepishly looked at the ground. Haymitch stood at the back of the float, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. He could hear the crowd yell for him, trying to get a reaction or a smile. But Haymitch had found something more interesting.

At the top of a large balcony overseeing the parade, stood President Cornelius Snow. Haymitch didn't know much about him, but any president who continues the Hunger Games after being elected is the shittiest shit of all the shit in the world. So Haymitch just stared at him.

Even though he was far away, Haymitch could have sworn Snow flinched.

And that was the only reason he eventually smiled.

---

Haymitch's leg was bouncing out of control. He had actually enjoyed the period of time where all of the tributes were waiting to go into their Ranking sessions. He spent over five hours staring at the others, noticing their quirks, consistencies. But now that it was just him, the anxiety got to him.

He had no clue what he was going to do for the gamemakers. He found the ranking so dumb. What does it matter what a bunch of rich adults think of his skills? His fate rested on whether or not a scared kid would kill him if given the chance.