The Capitol's Tribute

Effie knocked on my door, waking me up, “Up, up, up! It’s going to be a big, big, big day!” I guessed her coping mechanism was pretending the Reaping never happened, that I was just another lamb headed for the slaughter. Nobody she knew. I decided I would play along. She was so fragile. There was no point in caring; I would be gone soon anyway.

Once again, everyone was already at breakfast before me. I took the same seat as yesterday only it was Peeta I was sitting next to, not Brant.

“We’ll be arriving at the Capitol in a few hours.” Katniss told me. I nodded, piling food that I probably wasn’t going to eat onto my china glass plate. Katniss wasn’t done speaking, though, “We’re going to start mentoring, too.”

I looked up at my three companions. “Okay.” I said. I had thought about this last night after watching the recaps. “I’ll go with Haymitch. Brant can have you and Peeta.”

“No,” Peeta said immediately. I turned and glared at him.

“I don’t think you get a say.” I told him harshly. “I want Haymitch.” I looked up at the eldest mentor. He raised a glass of what I was sure was wine and nodded.

“Whatever the little lady wants.” He had been around dozens of tributes over the years since he’d won. I’m sure he could tell by the look in my eyes I didn’t want any mentoring. Maybe that made his job easier. If I didn’t try, he couldn’t feel guilty about my death.

“I think we should have a group decision.” Katniss tried reasoning, “Or we could mentor you together?” She was being reasonable but I wanted to be stubborn. I had made my choice; they were going to have to live with it.

“Rixa,” Brant warned. His eyes told me to play nice. And I was. I hadn’t screamed or tore off anyone’s face since we arrived. I think I was doing pretty well considering.

“I’ve made my decision, Brant. Please accept it. I’m trying to help you here, too.” I pleaded. Under my desperate gaze he broke down.

“Okay…” He sighed.

“Brant, I think it would be better if we stuck together and tried to—” Peeta tried.

“She’s made her decision, Peeta. Respect it.” Brant snapped. Peeta glared out the train window, but with how fast we were going he couldn’t have been looking at anything but the past. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Peeta and Brant had been friends and I was the reason they stopped talking, the reason they were at each others throats.

“Okay,” Katniss spoke up, “We train you separately. We should get started now and go over training and public appearances.” She finished unsurely. All the glamour of the Capitol made her uncomfortable. Katniss preferred the woods and solitary over the Capitol and fame.

I stood up and made my way to the liquor cabinet. I pulled out a bottle with clear liquid in it and looked at Haymitch expectantly, “Well, come on. Let’s get me mentored.” I shook the bottle and Peeta and Brant looked horrified at what I was insinuating. Katniss didn’t know whether to laugh or look on at me with disapproval. Haymitch, however, decided to look on the brighter side of things. He let out a high pitch cackle that even made me crack a smile.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He stood up abruptly, grabbing the bottle from me. “Let’s get you mentored.”

He led the way to a compartment two away from the one I slept in. It had a television and two comfortably plush chairs. He plopped himself down, letting out a sound of content and popped the lid of the liquor. Grabbing a glass that had been sitting there since last night when he was probably in here getting drunk per usual, he poured himself a generous amount and then chucked the bottle at me. I got it easily and drank straight from the bottle.

“Whoa there, sweetheart,” Haymitch chuckled, “I don’t want your brother to catch me getting you drunk.”

I shrugged, staring at the black television screen. “What does it matter? I won’t live for him to scold me for it.”

Haymitch stared at me, swirling around his glass, sizing me up. “So, you’re not even going to try to win?”

“I don’t want to.” I said simply.

“You’re an idiot.”

I snorted, taking another swig. “Thanks. I think I’ll win for sure now.”

Haymitch smirked, downing his glass. “Gimme,” I tossed the bottle back at him. I leaned back in the chair, making myself more at home. “I guess this makes my job easier.”

“I figured after years of trying unsuccessfully to mentor loss causes, I’d give you a break.” I said casually.

He snorted, staring at the bottle. His smile slowly faded away. He was probably being horribly reminded of those poor tributes he couldn’t save. “So, you’re just being considerate?” He asked, not bothering to look at me.

“You could call it that.” I rubbed my face tiredly, “I call it strategizing. It makes the blow hurt less.”

“And what blow is that?” He questioned nonchalantly.

I took in a deep breath before I began my long thought process, “Two tributes come onto this train. Only one can win. You probably went through your first years trying your hardest to get your tributes out alive. But, no matter what you did, they never won—never even made it out of the initial bloodbath. I believe there was a time when you weren’t a drunken mess, when you cared for the tributes, maybe even a little too much. But those times are gone now. Two tributes walk on this train and you know exactly who you’re going to put all your energy into.” I pulled a piece of lint off my shirt and flung it away, “And between Brant and me it doesn’t take a genius to know who you want. The catatonic Capitol citizen or the strong, skilled tribute? My bets on Brant but since I’m a dead man walking, I don’t have much need for betting.”

Haymitch gazed at me, squinting his eyes as if he was unsure if I was real or not. “Well, I can honestly say in the twenty-four years I’ve been doing this, you, sweetheart, are a first.”

“I pride myself on that fact.” I commented, resting my eyes.

“But, that’s exactly why I would have picked you to train.”

I sat up again, staring at Haymitch. “Why? Did you watch my Reaping? I was a wreck! What do you think I’m going to do the second I get into that arena? What kind of a threat could I possible to that career from District 1 or even that child from District 7?” I laughed darkly. “You’re off your rocker.”

“Maybe,” He shrugged, “But the fact that you’re so willing to die on the slim chance that your brother—who doesn’t have much in the way of skill sets besides his strength—will survive and become victor, makes you the tribute I would bet on.” I stared Haymitch down, unsure whether he was joking with me or not.

“Well, I’ve already made my choice. Brant’s the tribute we train.” I said stubbornly.

“And what’s that golden brother of yours got to say on this?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow on his smug face.

“He doesn’t have a say. I just told you, I made my—”

“You know what I think?” Haymitch cut me off unexpectedly. “I think Brants in there with Peeta and Katniss right now, pleading them to save you, to make you the tribute we train.”

I swallowed, knowing this was probably true. “It won’t work. Peeta and Katniss know he’s the better tribute. Peeta knows me. He knows I’m useless.”

Haymitch chortled. “Darlin’, Peeta spent the entire evening begging us to help you, not Brant.”

My eyes widened in shock, “Why would he do that? He and Brant used to be best friends!”

“And you used to be lovers,” Haymitch said knowingly, “Which do you think trumps the other?”

“That’s beside the point,” I stuttered, my face heating up. Who else knew about Peeta and me? “I’m telling you to choose Brant. I swear I’ll just run right into the bloodbath at the cornucopia the first day and off myself so you have no choice then to choose Brant!” I threatened.

Haymitch shook his head, “So, what do you suppose I do with you during these ‘training’ sessions?”

“Train me to last as long as I can to help Brant win.” I proposed.

He tilted his head, drinking some more alcohol. He swished it around in his mouth, mulling this over. We sat in silence for a few moments. I waited patiently for Haymitch’s response. “Okay.” He agreed. I sighed with relief.

Finally I thought, we’re getting somewhere.

“But,” Haymitch went on. There was always a ‘but’.

I glanced at my mentor expectedly. “What is this going to cost me?”

“You forgive Peeta.” He said. I had to admit, I was put off guard. That was the last thing I thought he would ask me. I figured he wanted some expensive, fancy Capitol wine. But, no. He wanted my forgiveness.

“What?” I wasn’t sure why that was the word that had come out of my mouth. I had heard Haymitch fine.

“If you want my help, you have to forgive Peeta.” He repeated sweetly. “I understand that you had a falling out during the Games last year. Peeta told me all about you on the train. He hoped that one day you would understand what he did to protect you, but, you apparently don’t have as many days left as he would have liked. That boy has been living with the guilt of you for months and I don’t think I could let him live knowing he would carry it around with him the rest of his sad, sorry life.” Haymitch told me, “So, in exchange for my much needed help and expertise in the Games, you forgive him. You pretend like it never happened and you live your last days being Peeta’s friend. At least give the poor boy something to hold onto while he watches you die.” He finished exasperated.

I sat in my chair for a couple minutes, blown away by Haymitch’s uncharacteristically heartfelt speech. From everything I’d heard about him, he didn’t seem like the friendly type, the one who cared about anyone but himself. I guessed there was a lot about Haymitch that only he and maybe Katniss and Peeta knew, too.

“How long have you been sitting on that little speech?” I asked mildly, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“Since Peeta stormed off the stage and I realized you were the girl he had been broken up over for months.” He answered taking another sip of his drink.

I was confused. What would Peeta be broken up over? The fact that I didn’t want to remain friends after he broke my heart? Technically we never broke up but we didn’t have to say the words directly; especially now that he was getting married to Katniss, who had taken my place in his heart.

But, what kind of person would I be if I forced Peeta to live with what he had done? Surely he felt bad, but the damage had been done. It was irreversible. I was finding that I was spending more time trying to make other people feel better about my situation then they were mine. But, it didn’t matter. Maybe I could pretend that Katniss had never stolen Peeta away, just for a little while. Just until I died.

“Okay,” I agreed. Haymitch glanced lazily over at me as if he knew I would say yes all along. He stood up and stretched out his tall body. He shook his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes and gulped the rest of the bottle in his hand.

“Good training session.” He sighed, “You’ve got interviews with Effie after lunch. We’ll talk more once we get to the Capitol.”

And with that, Haymitch disappeared, leaving me to try to find a way to forgive Peeta without it sounding forced or fake. Agreeing to play nice was easy; acting it out was the hard part.