An Era Awakens - Effie and Haymitch

2. Reaping

Reaping

Haymitch spent the rest of the time until the Reaping on the couch. He tried his best to ignore the many voices around him while he slowly drifted into a sleep-like state.

It was Petunia's shrill voice that jolted him awake. "Haymitch! Will you finally get up? You're not here for your pleasure!"

His facial expression hardened, and he sat up to get a better view of the entire room. Another reason why he hated Reaping day. It always reminded him a little of his own Reaping. Of course, he wasn't here for his own pleasure. What was this woman thinking?

The room had emptied, only Effie Trinket still stood in the doorway, looking a bit uncertain over at him. In two large strides, he stood beside her and looked down at her skeptically, without deigning to give Petunia even a single glance.

"It's best if you just stand next to me while Petunia begins her farewell speech," she whispered in his ear as Petunia passed by them with her head held high.

The two followed her silently, but Haymitch couldn't help but grin. He nodded at Effie, who looked at him expectantly, as he couldn't think of anything better to do. Attendance was a mandatory affair, so he couldn't avoid the Reaping anyway.

Petunia strode purposefully through the long corridors, leading the group to the main entrance in less than two minutes. The large double doors, weathered from years of exposure, were already wide open. Beyond them, Haymitch caught sight of the square where the Reaping was held every year. The place where his fate had begun to unfold. It had been fourteen years since Petunia had drawn his name. As he stared out into the midday sun, it didn't feel as if so much time had passed. On the contrary. If he tried hard enough, he could see the distraught faces of his family; the suppressed tears in the eyes of his girl. Not as vivid as back then, but they were still here. Just like every year.

"You sit over there." Haymitch abruptly turned his gaze away from the square. Petunia had beckoned Effie over and was giving her instructions even before she came pattering with small, bouncy steps.

Haymitch blinked several times, staring dazedly down at himself. He hadn't even noticed that he had stepped outside. To avoid making his heart heavier, he dared not meet the hundreds of pairs of eyes that watched his every step. Instead, he turned his head and followed Petunia's finger, which pointed to the two chairs located to the right of the microphone. Behind the bowl for the boys. Behind his bowl.

Something itched and ached in his fingers, and as his focus shifted to his former escort, he caught the mischievous glance she threw him from the corner of her eye. For a moment, blind rage seized him, sweeping over him like an icy wave, making him shiver. He didn't even know why. Usually, he didn't let Petunia provoke him so easily, otherwise, he surely would have killed her in the fourteen years of their collaboration. And he could proudly claim that he had barely harmed a hair on her head during that time – except for a few glass-bottles he had thrown at her or the occasional dress of hers that had, of course, accidentally fallen victim to red wine. He was better than many of the other victors, even though he had suffered worse than most. Hopefully, Effie would turn out to be less terrible than the dragon.

For a second, Haymitch stared almost absently at his bowl. Petunia must have heard Effie's words in the corridor. Why she wanted to turn this into a personal feud with him was a mystery to him. Without giving the two Capitol women another glance, he walked past them and was about to sit on the left side when Effie grabbed his arm.

"Please, just do what she says for today," she murmured, and the look in her eyes was almost pleading. She bit her lip. If that wasn't manipulation, he didn't know what was. Her surprisingly strong grip on his wrist, considering her stature, made it clear that she was determined to have her way.