The Hunger Games (Peeta's Point of View)

Chapter Ten

Every set of eyes in Panem are focused on mine at that very moment. I know looking away won't help me because the cameras are everywhere. Just like President Snow, they're omnipotent. And I'm not sure I can hold myself together for them.

            I manage to look up at one of the screens and see Katniss' blushing face. Then she stares hard at the floor. I wonder what she's feeling. I wonder what my family's thinking. I wonder what Gale's thinking, her best friend. Or is he more? Katniss always denied this but... if they are an item, I can kiss goodbye to any hopes of getting close to her. I should have thought about this- no. I can't think about stuff like this. I have to stay engaged with the interview.

            Caesar's looking at the floor too, and when he looks back up at me he says, "Oh, that is a piece of bad luck." I can hear actual pain in his voice. The audience are murmuring in agreement. Some of the dramatic folk even cry out in distress. None of this helps me, though, but helps my case.

            "It's not good," I agree.

            "Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?" asks Caesar.

            "Not until now." Why must he keep asking questions? Isn't my time up already?

            "Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" he asks the audience. Yes! No! I don't know. The audience shouts their agreement. "But sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

            The audience's resounding applause and shouts go on even after the buzzer's gone off. When silence finally falls, I choke out a forlorn, "Thank you," and then I return to my seat. I'm not looking at Katniss, I'm not looking at anyone- because I can't bear it. When we stand for the anthem, my eyes are either shut or trembling with the threat of tears. At least it's convincing. But the time my eyes are open Katniss and I are ruling the screens, just as we did at the parade, and Katniss looks more like the sun now: radiant but with emotion in her eyes- emotion that could burn you. It comes strongly across as sorrow but I suspect otherwise. It is probably burning defiance in those eyes. Katniss Everdeen. The Girl who is on Fire.

            When I finally escape the all-seeing lenses of the cameras and us tributes being thrust in my face by the screens, we're filing into elevators. Katniss does not go into the same elevator as me, nor the same car. I don't even take notice of who I'm sharing a car with, but it's probably people from another tribute pair because no one speaks through the air of thick uneasiness. Most of the tributes I share an elevator with get off about halfway through the ride until I am left alone. As I step out of the elevator I hear the doors of the one next to it open. I turn around to see who it is.

            I turn around too late.

            I've only just stepped out of the lift when Katniss shoves hard on my chest. I feel my feet go beneath me and I career into something breakable behind me. The smashing noise echoes right in my ears and I land in a bed of porcelain shards. My whole body hits the floor but my hands get the worst hit. The shards slice ribbons into my hands and blood gushes out from them. I look up at her in enraged horror. "What was that for?" I manage to tremble out.

            "You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" The elevator doors behind me open and everyone is here: Effie, Haymitch, Portia and Cinna.

            "What's going on?" shrieks Effie. "Did you fall?"

            "After she shoved me," I mutter mutinously as Effie and Cinna help me up.