Hunger Games 1

Chapter 8 Tribute Train (2)
If you want to cry, now is the time.Tomorrow morning, I can wash away the tears from crying at night.But I didn't cry, I was too tired, maybe too numb, I couldn't cry.The only strong desire is that I am elsewhere at this time.Then let the shaking train take me to sleep, where I can forget everything!
The next morning, the sky was gloomy, and dim light came in through the curtains.I was awakened by a soft knock on the door, followed by Effie Trinket's voice calling me up to eat. "Get up, get up, get up! We're going to be very, very busy today!" For a moment, I imagined what was going on in this woman's mind?What is she thinking about during the day?What dream did you have at night?I can't figure it out.

I put on the green suit, it wasn't dirty, it was just thrown on the floor overnight, it was a little wrinkled.I run my fingers over Mockingjay's gold ring.I thought about the jungle, about my dad, about waking up from sleep and going on with my mom and Prim.

I went to bed without combing my hair last night. The hairstyle my mother combed carefully for me at the Harvest Festival ceremony didn’t look messy this morning, so I didn’t comb my hair again.Fortunately, there is no major obstacle, we are not far from the Capitol.As soon as I arrive in that city, I'll have a stylist doing my image for tonight's opening ceremony.I just wish my stylist didn't make nudity a thing of beauty.

When I got to the dining car, Effie Trinke passed me with a mug of black coffee, cursing under her breath.Haymitch on the side, his face was red and swollen, obviously indulged himself the day before, he was giggling.Peeta holds an egg roll in his hand, looking embarrassed.

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said, waving at me.

As soon as I sat down in my chair, someone brought a large plate of food, eggs, ham, piles of French fries, and a compote full of fruit served in ice cubes to keep it chilled.The pile of egg rolls in front of me is enough to feed our family for a week.An elegant glass held orange juice; or, at least I thought it was orange juice.I've only ever tasted an orange my dad brought back as a special present for New Years.Plus a cup of coffee.Mom loves coffee, but we can never afford it.But coffee, to me, is just bitter, watery water.And a cup of something rich brown that I've never seen before.

"They call it hot chocolate," Peeta said, "and it's good."

I took a sip, and the hot, sweet, creamy liquid slid down my throat, and my body shuddered.I drank it all in one gulp, ignoring the deliciousness on the table.Then I started munching other foods, and I ate a lot, trying not to overeat.Once my mother said that I always feel like I will never see food again when I eat. I replied: "If I can bring food home, I won't be like this." Talk no more.

When my stomach feels like it is about to burst, I lean back in the chair and eat the small food that goes with the meal.Peeta is still eating, tearing open the egg roll and dipping it in hot chocolate.Haymitch didn't pay much attention to his food, but he kept pouring clear liquid from a bottle, mixing it with red juice, and gulping it down.The strong taste convinced me that it must be a kind of alcohol.Haymitch and I didn't know each other before, but I'd seen him a lot at the black market, and he'd always leave piles of change on the liquor woman's counter.If this goes on, he'll be pretty drunk by the time we get to the Capitol.I found myself hating Haymitch.No wonder the players in District [-] never got a good chance, not just because they didn't eat enough and didn't train enough—there were plenty of strong players in District [-] who had a chance to win; but because they didn't get sponsorship, and Haymitch is the main reason.Rich people tend to support certain players, or they bet on them, or they just want to brag that they picked the right winner.Of course they'd like to deal with someone with better manners than Haymitch.

"You should give us some advice," I said to Haymitch.

"I suggest you, come back alive." Haymitch said, laughing.Peeta and I exchanged a look, determined never to speak to him again.I was very surprised to see the coldness in his eyes, but he is usually gentle.

"It's ridiculous," Peeta said.Suddenly he waved his hand violently, and dropped the cup in Haymitch's hand to the ground, and the blood-red liquid flowed out along the door of the box. "Don't do that to us."

Haymitch froze, then punched Peeta on the jaw, knocking him off his chair.He turned to get his drink, and I slammed the knife between the bottle and his hand, almost on his finger.Then I quickly moved away to avoid his fist, but he didn't move, sat on the chair, and looked at us sideways.

"Huh, what's this for?" Haymitch said. "I got two fighters for this year, huh?"

Peeta gets up from the floor, digs a large spoonful of rice from under the fruit bowl, and holds it up to the red mark on his face.

"No," said Haymitch, stopping him. "Show it, the audience thinks you've fought another Tribute before you entered the arena."

"It's against the rules," Peeta said.

"The bruise is only a sign that you fought if you were seen, and it would be better if you weren't seen." He turned to look at me again and said, "Aside from stabbing the table with a knife, you have What can you use it for?"

Bows and arrows are my usual weapons, but I have also practiced throwing knives for a long time.Sometimes I've shot the game, and it's better to kill it with the knife before I get close to it.I think now is the time to get Haymitch's attention.I yanked the knife off the table, grabbed the blade, and slammed it against the opposite wall.I just wanted to stick the knife firmly to the wall, but the knife just got stuck in the gap between the two boards, which made me even more skillful.

"Stand over there, you two," Haymitch said, stumbling into the middle of the dining car, peering around us, poking us like animals, and looking at faces. "Well, it's not bad, it's not completely hopeless. It looks quite strong. Let the designer give you a tinkerer, and it will look like it."

Neither Peeta nor I doubted that.The Hunger Games isn't a beauty pageant, but then again, good-looking contestants always seem to get more sponsorship.

"Well, let's make a deal, I'll drink, you don't mind, but I won't drink too much, so I can help you," Haymitch said, "but you will do exactly as I tell you."

It's not exactly a good quid pro quo, but it's a big step up from 10 minutes ago when there was no one to guide.

"Okay," Peeta said.

"Then help us," I said, "when we get to the Horn of Zeus (the horns of Zeus in Greek mythology, the horns full of flowers and fruits symbolize abundance. Usually used in paintings or sculptures.——Translator's Note ), what is the best tactic?"

"Take one at a time. In a few minutes, we will pull in, and you will be handed over to the designer. You will not like their design, but no matter what, don't resist."

"But—" I said.

"No 'buts', just don't fight back," Haymitch said, taking the bottle from the table and leaving the dining car.When the door closed behind him, the inside of the dining car was pitch black, and although there was still a glimmer of light, it seemed to be night outside.I think the train must have gone into the tunnel to the Capitol.These mountains are the natural barriers for the Capitol to defend the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to attack the Capitol from the east, and the only way is the tunnel.This terrain advantage is the main reason why each district has lost battles, and it is also the main reason why I am now a "tribute".Because the rebels had to cross the mountains, they were easy targets for Capitol air power.

Peeta and I stood there in silence as the train sped through the long tunnel.My heart tightens when I think of the thick rocks in the tunnel that separate me from the sky, I hate being trapped by rocks, he reminds me of my dad, of mines, he's buried forever in Gone In the darkness of day.

The train finally slowed down gradually, and suddenly a dazzling light penetrated into the carriage.Peeta and I couldn't hold back the excitement in our hearts, and ran to the window to see the Capitol City, the center of Panem's rule, which we had only seen on TV before.Indeed, the camera didn't lie, it showed the city in all its majesty; if anything it didn't capture, it was the golden skyscrapers in an iridescent aftertaste, set against a vast expanse of Glamorous cars running on asphalt roads, people with strange clothes, strange hairstyles, painted faces, and no worries about food and clothing.All the colors are so unreal, the pink is too deep, the green is too bright, the yellow is too bright—like the flat round candies we see in the little candy shop in District [-] but can never afford.

When we learned that a "tribute" train was coming into the city, everyone eagerly pointed at us.I hurried away from the window, they were so excited it made me sick, I knew they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other.But Peeta just stood there, smiling and waving at the crowd instead.He only stops when the train finally pulls in and we are out of sight of the audience.

Seeing me staring at him, he shrugged and said, "Who knows? Maybe there's a rich guy in the crowd."

I misread him.I've been thinking about his behavior since the Harvest ceremony: the friendly handshake he gave me, his dad visiting me with the cookie, the one promised to Prim... Peeta made his dad do it ?He cried at the station and volunteered to bathe Haymitch, but when it became apparent that this "good guy strategy" wasn't working, he challenged Haymitch again.Now he's waving from the window again, hoping to win over the crowd.

Of course, this sequence of events is not enough to explain the problem, but I feel that his plan of action is taking shape.He is not sitting still and is fighting for a chance at survival.Which means this good Peeta Malack, the one who gave me the bread, is doing everything in his power to kill me.

(End of this chapter)