The Boy With The Bread

Chapter 12

Gale, Effie, Haymitch, Dane, Cinna and I are devouring our breakfasts. It is about 5:45 in the morning, because the sessions need to start early for all the tributes to get an even amount of time. I am slightly nervous, even though I know exactly what I will show to the Gamemakers. Archery. Simple as that, yet not so simple as it sounds. Every shot will need to be perfect in order to attain a high score. I try to persuade myself that the scores mean nothing. But still, if I want sponsors, and maybe a little self esteem, I need a high score.

We are all gathered in a small waiting area, with little blocks for seats. The private session will take as long or as short the Gamemakers want to see you. Being from District 12, I will go last. Which is a huge disadvantage because all the Gamemakers will be bored by the time I go. I see Cato and Clove scramble over to Gale and I, hopping over the metal block seats and weaving between the milling tributes.

"Hey Clove, Cato." I greet. "What are you guys planning on doing?" I ask. Clove, of course, will be flaunting her knife throwing skills, and Cato, will perform his sword and spear skills. They aare no doubt getting high scores. Gale too. Gale will show them his snares and archery and knives, whereas I only have the bow. The siblings wish Gale and I luck before hurrying back to their seats.

"Gale, why do you hate them so much?" I ask tentatively. Gale hasn't given much effort to talk to them or be nice. He hasn't been mean, but it seems strange that I am the one being friendly. I am no good at friends. Gale was my only friend back in 12, unless you count Madge. Clove and Cato have managed to overlook my hostility and stubbornness. But then, Cato is just as vicious as me and Clove just as sneakily smart.

"Katniss, i already told you. I don't trust them one bit. But it seems to make you happy, so I am okay, I guess. I just don't want a knife in the back, that's all." He explains slowly as I study his moving jawline.

"Oh, alright. Sorry. Are you ready for the sessions? " I apologize, clearly unsincere.

Several hours have passed before it is even Gale's turn. A man over an intercom welcomes Gale inside.

"Good luck." I wish him.
"Good luck Katniss. " I wait alone, in the empty cold room. I ponder over the possibilities that could occur. I could miss all my targets. They forgot to supply a bow and arrows. They yell at me for being late. They all leave, ditching me and what little pride I have. Finally, the man robotically says my name.

I enter the training center, and weapons of all kind are scattered everywhere, like the colorful sprinkles on the cakes that my family could never afford. The bakery sold the pretty cakes. The baker's son is Peeta. Peeta helped me. I picked a dandelion. I ate bread. My thoughts are choppy and jumbled in my frantic brain. I search desperately for a nice bow and sheath of arrows.

"Hello, Katniss." A tall man greets. He is wearing a black suit embroidered with little red flames. My costume must have been really popular.

"Hello."

"Ms. Everdeen, show us your talents." The Head Gamemaker tells me. My dark eyes flit around, settling on a simple wooden bow and arrows. I put the arrow into place. I pull back on the string and let my arrow fly into the red striped bullseye. It's a perfect shot, on;y the gamemakers don't seem to care at all. They are all eating and drinking and socializing. A few of them scribble notes down, but I feel infuriated. I throw my bow down on the hard metal ground in frustration. I know I have a lot of time, so I snatch a random knife from the floor and scratch up everything in my path. There is a trellis that leads to the balcony the Gamemakers are on, so I scale the trellis swiftly and swing myself onto the platform. I ignore the small gasps.

"Excuse me!" A gravelly voice says. "What in the world are you doing here?" The Head Gamemaker accuses.

"Well, excuse ME! What in the world are YOU doing? You are supposed to be watching me. But only two of you have bothered to see me because obviously I am not worth wasting my time for. Just the girl from 12 who volunteered for her sister. Who may or may not be talented. But you will never know because you haven't even bothered to learn my name!" I screech.

"We-ell, are you willing to redo it? I promise we will pay attention." The man suggests. I only redo it because he looks so very scared with a touch of admiration. When I am done, the men congratulate me and cheer me on. I roll my eyes and walk off.

I meet everyone at the dining table for lunch. By everyone, I mean Gale, Effie, Dane, Haymitch and cinna. And me.

"So! "Effie says brightly. "How did it go!"

I stare at my plate. Gale speaks up. "Oh, I did fine." He says arrogantly. See, the Hunger Games have changed a boy into a boasting man, who isn't worried about killing a few innocent children.

"Yeah, yeah." Haymitch says. I smile, knowing that we are so alike. "You didn't do anything stupid in there, did you?"

"No. Well kind of." I explain the story to them humiliatedly, because Effie seems absolutely horrified and Cinna and Dane looked amused. Haymitch slaps me on the back approvingly.

The Capitol symbol appears on a T.V. screen, and I am facing Caesar Flickerman, the talk show host of the games. caesar greets his audience and introduces the tributes. A headshot of the tributes appear on screen along with their score. Shockingly, everyone is getting very high scores. Cato got an eleven, Clove a nine. Even little Rue did well. Gale's stern face flashes on screen. I give him what I hope to be a reassuring smile then fix my eyes to the screen. "Gale Hawthorne, eleven." Everyone is congratulating him and patting him. Caesar calls me and calls my score. My score is something so unexpected, the whole room falls silent.