Down the Primrose Path

Chapter Seventeen

--CHAPTER SEVENTEEN--

I have to take myself back up to the District 12 level, shaken up and flustered. Who was that strange woman? And why was she so angry at you? I punch the fluorescent button marked Twelve. I am absolutely hopeless! Why didn't I even try to make up for that mistake I made in the Chariot Rides? I could have fixed everything! I could have won a slither of a chance at surviving. But no. Like the pathetic coward I am, I chickened out. I let that lady stomp all over me with her poisonous words. There is something about her that looks familiar. Viper-green eyes, pale skin, a long nose with a pointy end. She is someone of great power; importance was written a hundred times all over her.

The elevator stops and frees me into the District 12 quarters again. Everybody is sitting uncomfortably around the table, almost as if there are waiting for me. Haymitch. Effie. Both Cinna and Portia. Peeta can't even make eye contact with me.

"Alright, what's going on?" I ask upfront.

Haymitch stands up. "Your private session. Well actually, both Peeta's and yours. You had a special visitor assess you. Someone that no-one else had."

I shuffle into the seat next to Cinna, incredibly tense and afraid. "Don't tell me it was the green-haired lady."

"That would be a miserable lie if I said so." says Haymitch, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. "She was ordered by President Snow himself to be at your sessions."

My brain is not functioning well tonight. "But why?"

"Because you spoke up against the Hunger Games, Prim." Cinna wraps his soft, brown hand into my trembling one. "They want to make sure you're not going to destroy them. You did something that no normal person who ever dare do." The way Cinna speaks about this...it's like he's not from the Capitol at all.

The Capitol want to monitor me, to keep me from burning down their precious setup? How could four little words be such a terrible crime? It wasn't even on purpose. It was all to get attention and I just blurted the sentence out. The thing that churns my stomach most is that they believe Peeta's involved. He didn't say anything.

"But-but who is she? Who assessed us?" My voice quivers in distress.

Effie takes a dainty sip from her wine glass and mutters. "That woman was none other than Endora Snow; President Snow's only daughter."

My jaw drops. Peeta, who had his hand wrapped around a fancy glass, crushes it into a thousand pieces. PRESIDENT SNOW'S DAUGHTER IS GIVING US OUR TRAINING SCORES???!!! Suddenly, the face I couldn't recognise flashes before my eyes. Endora Snow got married to an ex-Gamemaker a few years back. It was televised all across Panem. The wedding was very extravagant and festive; she was draped in about ten layers of heavy, white fluff on a humid day. I felt incredibly sorry for her until last year. She travelled all the way to District 5 to beat an old man to death. He had mocked President Snow in some form, I'm guessing. But luckily Snow has his overprotective security dog of a daughter to defend him.

She must of decided something had to be done about two scallywags who spoke against the Hunger Games. In honour of her father.

Peeta shuts his eyes firmly, shaking his head. "Are we doomed? Haymitch?"

"All we can do is watch the scores tomorrow morning and hope for the best." Our mentor grabs the large bottle of whiskey from the centre of the table and takes a swig.

No one can sleep tonight. I can hear plates smashing a few rooms down along with roars of frustration. I'm guessing its Haymitch releasing his drunken anger out on some Capitol furniture. But why would Haymitch sincerely care about what happens to us? He's been through this plenty of times. Did he believe we had a chance in the Games?

But wait...what if it's Peeta? He's obviously distressed about the outcome.

I consider checking on him but I'm too petrified to even leave my bed. Just in case I open the door a crack and find myself staring into Endora Snow's devilish eyes...

********

The faint morning light glimmers onto my face. Everyone waits for me on the couch in front of the hovering flat screen. It seems that either I wake up late or they get up super early. I squish in next to Peeta and Portia. I'm glad that Peeta's stylist like to sea tight-fitting outfits unlike Effie. Haymitch has to sit on the arm of the couch because our escorts new dress takes up all the space.

"They're up to District 6. The Careers have the best scores so far." Peeta fills me in.

Each tribute's picture appears to the left of Caesar Flickerman (he is presenting the scores, of course) and then the mark appears on his right. Most people get around average. Rue gets a 7-she never ceases to amaze me- and Thresh gets an impressive 10.

Caesar flashes a radiant smile to the camera. "And now, for District 12!"

Peeta leans towards the flat screen. I hyperventilate and try to hold back tears.

"Peeta Mellark first....with a score of..."

Haymitch scratches his chin. Effie holds her breath from the suspense.

"8!"

Peeta almosts jumps out his skin. We all clap, cheer, give him a pat on the back. 8 is pretty good, considering its difficult to get into the 10s. "What on earth did you do?!" I blurt out.

He shrugs. "I don't know! I threw a few weights, that's it!" A grin spreads across his face.

"And last but not least..." Caesars voice manages to break through the noise. We flop back onto the lounge, still and ready for that number.

"Primrose Everdeen with a score of-" the announcer halts as he reads his notes. He moves his mouth but no words come out. "My, my, my."

"Oh my god, what's happening? Why has he stopped?" I panic. My brain is flooding with questions. Haymitch looks from me to the screen. He punches the couch. "COME ON!"

"In the history of the Hunger Games, there has never been a score like this."

We all yell abuse at the screen with the exception of Effie who gets a shock from the screams. "Can you all quieten down to a full roar? I can't hear a thing!" Both Peeta and Haymitch snap their heads to Effie. They make her shut up.

And then, I build up my confidence, just like I did at the Reaping. They won't pick you Prim. They won't. It won't be a bad mark, Prim. You'll be fine. Perfectly fine. I have a feeling everyone else thinks that too. What if it's a 13? Or a 20?

But I should know by now that my hopes and dreams are always destroyed immediately. Turned to ash in my clutches. I want to grow up and fall in love and have children of my own. They send me to the Games. I want to steer away from the Careers. I become their main target.

"Ladies and gentleman...Primrose Everdeen with a score of......

0."