Peeta's Story- The Hunger Games

Chapter 20

I look around the room, examining the decorations and TV crew, anything to avoid Katniss's stare. On a large balcony, a table is being set up by Avoxes in pristine white uniforms. That is probably where the Gamemakes will sit. On the wall facing it is a smaller balcony with a TV crew set up on it. The engineers are bustling around, fixing last minute wiring errors while the announcers are busy touching up their makeup in the background.

The stage lights turn on and momentarily blind me. I blink rapidly and shake my head as my vision clears. When I open my eyes, I notice the press hovering underneath the stage, like a swarm of angry bees. Is it just me, or do they look exceptionally vicious? Outside, the hallway is jam-packed with people trying to get a glimpse of us. As loud, patriotic music begins to play, an unpleasant memory surfaces. The crowded hallways, the loud music, the surrealistic feel of this day all remind me of the reaping. Somehow, I feel like I am living in a horrible nightmare that keeps repeating itself over and over again as I subconsciously clench my jaw and ball up my fists. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to conjure up a calming memory, one that reminds me of home and keeps faith burning in my heart. I picture the bakery in the winter, with a merry fire in the hearth and cakes being baked in the oven. I can almost hear my dad singing as I imagine the sweet aroma of his pies. I relax a bit and I feel much calmer when I open my eyes again.

I sneak a peek towards Katniss to see how she feels, but she betrays almost no emotion. She seems rather jumpy because when I look at her, she is playing with her dress, the bright lights dancing off her jewels. Now that we are under the stage lights, I can see many details that I failed to notice earlier. Her skin is smooth and satiny and I fight hard to resist the urge to touch it. A delicate pattern is traced across her nails- a color changing fire against a dark black background. Her arms shimmer under the lighting, highlighting delicate patterns traced with the precision of a seasoned professional. I stare at her, entranced, but she seems not to notice my gaze. Either that, or she is ignoring me.

When the host, Caesar Flickerman, comes on stage, I settle into my plush chair. I will be last up, so I might as well make myself comfortable. He is wearing a dark blue suit with lights dotting every square inch of it. I personally think this makes him look a bit too much like a pudgy, overgrown, wizard. He is charismatic, charming the audience and making them laugh with the first few words out of his mouth.

Without wasting more time, he turns to the tributes and I hold my breath, feeling sorry for whoever is first.

She doesn't seem to feel sorry for herself at all as she bounds to Caesar's side in a gold gown. Her dress is wispy and see-through, her hair wavy and purposely messy. I try my best to avert my eyes as she prances around, swinging her hips. The boys seem to like it, but all I want to do is tell her to put some clothes on. After an uncomfortable three minutes, the buzzer finally goes off and her fellow District 1 tribute comes on.

Despite being a Career tribute, he looks a lot less comfortable with his situation than Glimmer, the girl before him. He is strong and surly and answers the questions bluntly. Caesar tries to help him by cracking jokes and weaving the one word answers into a coherent thought, but I can already tell that this tribute will not get that many sponsors. After a brief, rapidfire stream of quick, one-word answers, Caesar looks at the clock, obviously surprised to see that he still has a minute left. He seems to be grasping at straws to fill the uncomfortable silence and asks the tribute to do a dance or tell a funny story.

The tribute stands up unsurely and introduces himself. "I'm Marvel," he says, "and here is a story." We all lean forward in anticipation. He seems to stutter a bit before talking very slowly. "Once, I was at the shore collecting seashells. I found over 40 varieties and..." I can already sense the audience losing their patience and falling asleep. "Then I held one up to my ear," he continues, "and-"