Hunger Games Fan- Fic!!

Instructions

Prologue: “I volunteer!” The girl’s words rang out loud and clear, echoing and washing over the crowd as everyone fell silent as if to make sure everyone at the reaping today had heard. Absolutely, positively, dead silent. And all I could think as she ran up to the podium to take her sister’s place was, not her. I was so focused on Katniss that I didn’t even hear the next name that was called. Until some of the people beside me started whispering about whether the district twelve boy was going to be a no show. Then I heard his name, hissed and whispered around the square like a nest of snakes. Peeta Mellark. Me. I was surprised at how steady my legs were as they carried me up to the podium where Effie and Katniss stood. I didn’t look at my family. I had four brothers. Four very capable brothers who could’ve said something. Or done something. But some part of me, deep down knew none of my family would utter a word of sadness, or fear, or anger. Even less was the chance one of them would take my place. I would never want them too, would prefer myself over them any day of the week, but it still stung. I pushed those emotions aside and took my place on the stage. I felt numb. I didn’t cry or glare or feel. I just stood there, next to the girl who I’ve loved practically all my life and thought about in a few weeks one of us would have to k1lll the other. I unconsciously moved my gaze to her, and saw that she was looking back at me, emerald eyes blazing. Probably thinking the same thing. I directed my thoughts towards her, knowing it would take my mind off our situation if only for a minute. I thought back to when I first started liking her, when we were five. It was music class in school, and the teacher had asked who could sing a certain song. So, she stood up and sang. And I swear, every bird stopped and just, listened. Everything was silent except for her melodic voice that carried through the sad streets of the district and filled everyone’s heart with what felt like hope for the first time in what seemed like years. My father had told me about how well the Everdeen’s sang. “Everything goes still, and even the birds stop singing to listen.” Thinking of my father now hurts in a new and strange way. Like I wasn’t about to go home and see my family tonight. Like I was suddenly alone. I look away from Katniss and instead focus on Haymitch Abernathy, who, dr3nk, staggers onto the stage. Haymitch is district twelve’s only living champion of the Hunger Games, so is forced to mentor every year. I suppose drinking helps him live through the bad memories. Or forget about them. I wonder, if I would be like that, a saddened dr3nk full of traumatizing memories if I come out of the games alive. I hope not. But it’s not like I’ll win anyway. I’ve already decided that. Because Katniss and I can’t both make it out alive. And I’m planning on her coming home. A sinking feeling in my stomach reminds me that saving her means leaving my family for good. I look up just in time to watch as Haymitch topples forward off the stage and collapses in a heap below. I rush forward to help. I pity Haymitch for many reasons. For one, he had to be in the games, which is horrible in itself. For another, he must have seen some pretty terrible things for him to never want to live in reality without being h3ngover. Also, his collapse today will be viewed and remembered by pretty much everyone in both the districts and the Capitol for a very long time. The ceremony ends quickly after that, as if the Capitol was embarrassed by Haymitch’s little scene. They probably are. The walk back to the bakery where my mother and father work in the village is slow and painfully silent. As if we’re disgraced and performing a walk of shame. I hold my head high, even though tears streak my cheeks. We get lots of pitiful looks as we walk. And some gifts too. Greasy Sae gives us free meat and the man who works at the liq3or shop offers us some free drinks. My father politely refuses. Mellarks don’t really drink. Or that’s what my family always says whenever we get offered one. Personally, I’ve never been tempted to drink either. I don’t see the appeal of wasting yourself away or drowning yourself in the stuff to forget bad memories. I still have good things to live for. I think again about if that would change if I survived the games. But that’s all hypothetical, of course. I already know that I’m going to do everything in my power to protect Katniss. Even if it means dy1ng in the process. Afterall, that’s what she did for her sister. I feel another pang, this time of guilt for leaving my family. My mother and brothers aren’t the compassionate type, but my father has been one of the most active people in my life. I’ll miss my whole family, but I’ll miss him the most. Will my family think about me when I’m gone? Will anybody in the village remember me? Unlikely. Afterall, I’m just the Boy with the Bread.