Hunger But Mainly Death Games, The by Everclean Bratniss

Author:Everclean, Bratniss [Everclean, Bratniss]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Splatterbrain & Son
Published: 2011-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

What. The. Heck. Is. Going. On. I. Might. Have. To. Murder. Pita. Right. Here. And. Now.

Damage control, damage control. I have to do something to divert attention from Pita’s insane lie, and fast. I can’t let everyone think we’re an actual couple. And not because it’s embarrassing. I don’t care what these people think about me. But I do care about what Pita thinks. He’s already proven himself to be nothing short of insane when it comes to liking me. Mix in a little positive reinforcement here, a few mixed signals there, and toss us both into the Games, and who can predict how he’ll act?

It’s too late, though. The crowd roars its approval. One Capitol man screams out, “This is the cutest, most adorable thing everrrr!”

Some woman yells, “High school couples are meant to be together forever!”

Another woman says, “Soon you will have a baby!” More faceless voices join in.

“The baby comes from inside you!”

“Have you seen that movie Alien?”

“You are with the boy you love FOREVER now!”

I guess this is what happens when a society replaces all of its universities with state-sponsored Us Weekly Re-Education Centers.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. When you get your first boyfriend, it’s supposed to be a magical experience. Birds are singing, harps are playing, and the Internet is running smoothly so that he can ask you to be his girlfriend through whatever instant messaging program you’re using. But this? Having someone crazy try to make me their girlfriend by lying on national television? (And, yes, I promise he’s lying. I’m not being an unreliable narrator, here. I haven’t been holding anything back from you. Except for the bathroom scenes.)

“Well, that’s all the time we have,” Nero says, as he reaches out to shake Pita’s hand. But he stops, looks at his watch and pulls his hand back. “Whoops, running late. Silly me.”

“No worries,” Pita begins, beaming, “It’s been great speaking with you, Mr.—”

SHOOMPF. Pita falls through the trap door beneath him.

And with that, the Black Eyed Peas are immediately teleported back on stage.

But I’m not interested in listening to that quiet Native American one sing his new solo album. My mind is on one thing, and one thing only: finding Pita and putting an end to this. And then checking my Facebook profile to make sure he hasn’t hacked in and accepted his own Relationship request.

But when I get back to the training center, I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve really got to make this quick, so I can do some solemn reflecting about the Games. After all, this is the night before the tournament. I’ll definitely need to start planning that escape I’ve been meaning to make for weeks. But I think finding Pita and having a fight with him will really help me stop procrastinating about it.

I search and I search. I look underneath beds, in ventilation shafts, and I even check inside a few of those comically large birthday cakes lying around. I’m running out of time. But as night turns to day, I still haven’t found Pita, and I have no choice but to give up.

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