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District 9
I just want to be in my bed on the train. The never-ending blur of travel, parades, crowds, speeches, dresses, officials, and dinners is beginning to take its toll, and we've hardly even begun the Victory Tour. This is on top of the constant stress and anxiety I'm carrying around, wondering if we're doing enough, wondering if I'm only making things worse.
The giant clock on the far wall mocks me, saying it's only 11:45 – Effie won't collect us until midnight. I look around for Peeta; various admirers had separated us. I finally spot him by the waterfall of sweet red wine, tilting back his cup.
I put on a winning smile as I approach. "You disappeared," I tell him.
He refills his cup and shrugs. "I've been here," he says, an edge in his voice. "Talking to people. Answering questions."
I eye his drink. "How many of those have you had?" I ask in an undertone.
He only gives me another shrug. "Talking about Gale," he adds.
My insides twist. "What?"
"A woman was asking me how I got along with your handsome cousin," he says.
"Peeta," I warn, glancing around to see if anyone is nearby to overhear. He's growing weary of the cycle already, too, but we can't afford a slip-up. "Maybe we can talk about this later."
"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he says, unable to meet my eye, and I can hear the wine and mockery in his voice.
Mercifully, Effie chooses that moment to materialize. "Time to go!"
Peeta pulls himself together for our round of gracious goodbyes, and then we're in the car. I don't say anything, just cross my arms over my dark blue dress.
"I'm sorry," he finally murmurs.
"We need to be careful, Peeta."
"I know," he agrees, tilting his head back, eyes closed.
"You can't get upset when someone mentions Gale."
"I know," he repeats, turning to me. "It won't happen again, Katniss."
"Okay," I say, and the rest of the ride is silent, both of us thinking about a single kiss in the woods, and the stickiness of friendship.
Ten stops to go.
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