Catching Fire: Chapter Eighteen

. . .

Caesar and Peeta have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta's confession of love for me, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and over cooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that is on everyone's minds.

"So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you've been through, you found out about the Quell?" asks Caesar.

"I was in shock. I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss look so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next . . ." Peeta trails off.

"You realised there was never going to be a wedding?" asks Caesar gently.

Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at the floor, and then finally up at Caesar. "Caesar, do you think all of our friends here can keep a secret?"

An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching.

"I feel quite certain of it," says Caesar.

"We're already married," says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I have to bury my face in the folds of my skirt so they can't see my confusion. Where on earth is he going with this?

"But . . . how can that be?" asks Caesar.

"Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in the other districts. But there's this thing we do," says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting.

"Were your families there?" asks Caesar.

"No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss's mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there would never be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it," Peeta says. "And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us."

"So this was before the Quell?" says Caesar.

"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew," says Peeta, starting to get upset. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere – I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?"

"You couldn't, Peeta." Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."

Enormous applause. As if encouraged, I look up from my feathers and let the audience see my tragic smile of thanks. The residual smoke from the feathers has made my eyes teary. Which adds a very nice touch.

"I'm not glad," says Peeta. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

This takes even Caesar aback. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," Peeta says bitterly. "if it weren't for the baby."

I have to hide my face again, finding the comfort of my skirt. This time, I am not hiding confusion; I am hiding the accusations of betrayal that my expression undoubtedly spits at Peeta. He has just broken a promise. Now the whole of Panem know.

My face will be the focus of most, if not all, of the big cameras dotted around the stage. And, for this reason, I stay buried in my skirt. The audience is in an uproar and the interview has come to a halt. Then the buzzer sounds which signals that Peeta's three minutes are up. I am too lost in my own head to notice that I have been crying.

All of the tributes are supposed to leave the stage at the same time, following the last interview, but Peeta sitting next to me fills me with so much rage that I want to hurt him. I don't hate Peeta, of course I don't, but I do hate what he has just exposed. On live national television, for goodness sake!

I don't have much time to think about what I am going to do, because I am already walking off of the stage, completely off script. The anthem blasts and I know that the programme has finished.

I don't bother to wait for Peeta before I take my place in the elevator. I shoot up to the twelfth floor myself.

The screaming of the crowd still rings in my ears and I can't decide what their reaction is. However, I do know my reaction. I am livid.

Now that the secret is out, President Snow has another thing to hold against me. He knows that if I want to protect our baby, I will have to comply.

I think to myself. Convincing enough?