Set in District Twelve, right after the Quarter Quell ended.
Jerome stared in shock, his jaw frozen in place, keeping his mouth wide open. His wide, unblinking eyes fell on the static-filled television, his expression mirroring every other one around the room. Time almost stood still, and no one spoke for several minutes. Inside everyone's head replayed the scene last seen on the screen: Katniss shooting into nothing and blowing up the arena. Hovercrafts coming and plucking the remaining victors that still were breathing. Being abruptly cut off from the action by some unseen Gamemaker. And then nothing.
Jerome spotted his sister's face as pale as a sheet off to the side, clutching the family cat that was meowing helplessly in an attempt to escape her grasp. Next to her were two of the Mellark brothers, both with tears threatening to spill from their eyes. Jerome didn't judge them. After all, it was their brother in the arena. On the other side of the room were the four parents, who all began whispering fiercely at the same time to one another.
"What does this mean?"
"What are we going to do?"
"Are they all victors?"
"Are there any victors?"
No one had any answers.
Suddenly, Jerome's sister shot up out of her seat, allowing the cat to escape from her arms and dash away as fast as he could.
Murphy is too thin, Jerome thought as the blur of mangy fur and ribs disappeared. Who am I kidding? We are all too thin. Too thin, too poor, too depressed, and we're in the merchant class. I can only guess how bad the people of the Seam have it. When Jerome took his eyes off the last spot he saw Murphy, he looked up to see a blond ponytail whip out the door. Both Mellark brothers began to get up to follow her, but Jerome put a hand up to stop them. As close as the Mellarks were to the family, only he knew what was wrong with his sister. And only Jerome knew exactly where she would be.
Jerome turned the corner and walked into the Mellark's empty backyard, passing the famous apple tree that was just starting to show small, green apples, not yet ripe. He stopped at a small, poorly-assembled wooden "fort" that Peeta and his sister built, along with Mr. Mellark, when they were kids. Anyone in the yard hardly noticed it, and anyone who didn't like it-cough, cough, Mrs. Mellark- could just pretend it didn't exist. The fort was made from the leftover wood used to make a fence for the pigs. Jerome knocked on the makeshift door.
"Dell? I know you're in there, Delly." he asked timidly. "It's me, Jerome."
The door, making a splintering crack from its years of rotting, opened. Jerome crouched and wriggled his way in. Across from Jerome, in the shadowy light of the holes in the ceiling, sat Delly. Her face was red and still damp from tears. Her blond hair was a mess with bits of the hay that lined the fort floor stuck in it. Jerome shifted uncomfortably in the restricted space, and his knee knocked into hers. Although he was younger by nearly three years, he was almost equal in size to his seventeen-year-old sister.
"How did you and Peeta fit into this thing?" he whined, immediately regretting it. Delly let out another wave of squeaky whimpers.
The Games had affected her; it had seemed, even more than they affected the Mellark brothers. Jerome knew how close she and Peeta were. And although most people assumed they would get married one day, all of that changed when Peeta confessed his love to Katniss Everdeen last year. Delly had reacted extremely after that episode of mandatory Games-watching. She had ran off to the fort and refused to let Jerome in. After an hour of coaxing, she had finally opened up to him.
"Peeta is my best friend." she had told him, "and he never told me how he felt about Katniss. Ever. Why not? Did he not trust me enough? Was I not the right person to know? I thought we were closer than that. And I know that as we grew up, Peeta started hanging out with more guys, but I was always the first person he told things to. Why not tell me about Katniss?"
And then, after about ten minutes of working up enough courage, Jerome asked her, "Are you in love with Peeta?"
Delly had then sharply inhaled a breath at his words, and dried her face. She had looked up at Jerome and croaked out, "I know I love Peeta. I know he will always love me. But, I can honestly say, that I am not in love with Peeta Mellark." And in seeing the perplexed look on Jerome's face, she continued with, "You know how I used to tell people that Peeta was my brother? That's how I love him. Like a brother. Like how I love you. But nothing more than that."
The sound of Delly's voice snapped Jerome back to the present. "W-we were kids. Smaller. We made it work."
After pausing for a moment to remember his question and then processing her answer, Jerome said what was on her mind. "He's going to be okay, Dell. They got him out."
"But what are they going to do with him, Jerome? He and the other victors ruined their Games. You think they're just going to send him home, after everything he did to them?" Her face grew redder with every word, but this time not from crying. She was a ball of white fury. Angry at the Games. Angry at the Gamemakers. Angry at the Capitol.
Welcome to Panem, Jerome thought miserably.
Delly paused for a moment, and then continued with a different tone. "We have to do something. To show the Capitol that they can't have him- any of them. That we support the victors' cause and..." She stopped, a thought forming in her head. "And we support the rebellion!"
Jerome was genuinely surprised at her words. Rebellion? What happened to the merry-as-we-go Delly Cartwright he was used to? Before him sat a fiery girl with rebellion blazing in her eyes. Who put these ideas in her head? District Twelve would never rebel; there's too little of us.
Before his lips could form the question, Delly answered it. "Gale-Gale Hawthorne. He was talking to Thom and Thom said to Leevy and Leevy said to me that Gale knew about other Districts rebelling. 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 11. We could do that! We would show the Capitol that they don't own the victors and they don't own us! Move over, I need to find Gale." Delly started to get up and push Jerome back, out of the fort, but he stayed firm.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Dell," he spoke to her like he spoke to Greasy Sae's granddaughter. "First you need to calm down and think about this. You're really starting to scare me. Rebellion? No way could that be possible. The Capitol wouldn't allow it. And how is Gale Hawthorne going to orchestrate all of this? I know the Games have upset you, why don't we go home and get-"
"No!" Delly screamed, "You don't understand because you never care about Peeta! You hated him! Well, I care, so I'm going to make a stand! He was supposed to die in those Games, Jerome! So just because Katniss Everdeen screwed up their Quarter Quell up doesn't mean that's going to change Peeta's fate! All we need to do is get their attention off Peeta and onto the districts. And if you're not going to help me, then I'll just have to do it myself!" She punched the ceiling of the fort right in the center of it. Despite all of the rotting, Jerome knew that was the worst place to try and break it since the center is was strongest point. Sure enough, Delly's hand came back with some bloody knuckles, but no broken ceiling. Before he could stop her, she tried again in the same futile spot.
Seeing a look of insanity dancing around along with other swirling emotions in Delly's eyes, Jerome gently took his sister's hand in his. "Please stop, Dell," he begged in a voice just below a whisper. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. "I don't hate Peeta. I'll help him, I'll help you, just please stop." The look of insanity was gone, leaving a sullen hollowness in Delly's eyes. She slowly nodded, and Jerome slowly led her out of the fort like a small child, leading her to the house of the Hawthorne's.