Valley of the Dolls—Chapter Six

"It's only a week, Gale," I say, my arms wrapped around my chest to shield me from the unseasonable chill. Despite my mother's stern warnings that he needs bed rest, Gale insisted on being up and about to see me off. He doesn't want me to leave, even though he knows I don't have a choice. He stands shirtless despite the cool weather; his back cannot bear the touch of anything heavier than the bandages that protect his wounds from infection.

"A week too long," he says, not looking at me. His gaze is away from town, towards the woods that are our special place. "I don't like the idea of you in the Capitol, Katniss. Not when so many people want you dead."

"They don't want me dead," I say. "They want Peeta alive."

"They need to accept that Peeta's dead and let you get on with your life," he replies, and I wonder if he's talking about the Capitol citizens or about me.

"I don't want to talk about this with you right now," I say, looking down at my slate-grey heels. "I don't want to leave on a fight."

"Who's fighting?" he asks and tips my chin up to look at him. He's smiling at me and for a minute I can imagine things being the way they used to be. Just me and Gale out in the woods, doing what we do best, together.

"Are you almost ready to go, Katniss?"

I turn and see Cato standing a few feet away. He's smiling but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's still angry. His cheek is tinged slightly pink from where I struck him. I'm surprised his prep team hasn't covered it up yet. Then again, the cameramen have all packed up already and District 12 isn't exactly Snow's target audience.

"Almost," I say and turn back to Gale. To my amazement Cato moves in closer to us, invading our personal space.

"I told you not to talk to him anymore," Cato says through his teeth, which are still barred in the barest resemblance of a smile.

"Excuse me?" Gale asks, taking a step still closer so that he and Cato are nearly nose to nose. Cato surreptitiously tosses his head to his right and I see the same Peacekeeper that whipped Gale watching us. I make myself smile and, gagging a little on the inside, put a hand on Cato's forearm.

"Ok, no fighting," I whisper. Gale looks down at my hand in disbelief. He leans down and chastely kisses my cheek. From an outsider's perspective, it looks like two cousins saying goodbye, but his words chill my blood.

"Have fun playing your game," he breathes in my ear before taking a few steps backward and walking away, leaving me rooted to the spot like a statue. The Peacekeeper, satisfied that Gale is gone, heads off in the opposite direction.

"I hope you know how much I hate you," I tell Cato, letting my hand fall away from his arm.

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

"No," I say as I head toward the waiting train. "I don't think it is." Whatever annoyance or irritation Cato feels at me for having to play this stupid game and share the title of Victor pales in comparison to what I feel. I'm the one that has lost something. Cato has done nothing but gain.

"Congratulations on your speech, Katniss, dear," Effie says as she ushers me into the waiting train. My mother and Prim are standing at the platform and I wave at them. We've already said our goodbyes for the week but I have the urge to tell them just one more time that I will miss them and be thinking about them. I feel like I'm getting ready to enter the games all over again.

"Thanks, Effie," I say, but she isn't done.

"You really did a lovely job," she continues, holding eye contact with me. "When you started talking about Peeta I teared up a little bit, but it was so inspirational for you to encourage the District to accept his passing."

I wonder then if Effie is as clueless as she pretends to be. I smile at her and she smiles back and I know we've understood each other.

"Good," Haymitch says as soon as I enter the cabin. "That was just the right amount of emotion. Lover in mourning, but quiet mourning." He takes a shot of whiskey, tossing his head back like a wolf getting ready to howl. His bloodshot eyes indicate that he's already quite drunk and I groan. I do not mix well with a drunk Haymitch.

"Are you drunk?" Cato asks with disgust as he walks in behind me.

"He's always like that," I say. "Well, unless anyone needs me I'll be in my room."

I turn to leave but Cato's voice stops me.

"Are you serious? We're still not going to talk about our strategy?"

I stop, look at him, and actually smile a little. "Didn't you hear Haymitch? I got it just right. If you want to discuss your strategy with your mentor, then go ahead. I'm not stopping you."

I walk out of the room and down the hallway, a smirk on my face. I'm not going to let Cato bully me into anything. I reach out to open the door but before I can something slams me against the wall, knocking the wind out of me. I try to catch my breath but Cato's face is inches from mine. Shocked and angry, I try to yank against his hold on my upper arms but it's like fighting against a piece of stone.

"Get off me," I snarl, kicking him in the shin. It does less than nothing.

"No," he says, his tone as sharp as the sword he used in the arena. He isn't putting on any kind of act now. This is Cato showing his true colors.

"I'm sick of you acting like you're somehow better than the rest of us," he says, his fingers tightening on my arms. I try to move my leg to get a better shot at his groin but he blocks me, never looking away from my face.

"You're nothing, you know that?" he says. "Worse than nothing. Just some bitch from District 12 who got lucky. I hope you thank your little boyfriend's corpse every day because without him 'confessing his undying love for you' during the interview you would be dead right now. I would have wrung the life from your skinny neck and I would be the only Victor here, like I'm supposed to be. Don't get it twisted, Girl on Fire—however I act around you in public, this is how I really feel about you." His tirade finished, Cato spits in my face. I close my eyes and gasp in shock, though the shock is quickly replaced by a furious outrage.

"Not so nice, is it?" he asks, his nails breaking the skin on my right arm. "Play nice with me, Katniss, or I won't be nice back." He smirks and, after a moment, lets go of me and backs away. I'm breathing hard and I can feel small rivulets of blood racing down the inside of my arm. His smirk widens and he starts to walk away, arrogance obvious in his every step. Fury overtaking me, I grab a large ceramic vase off a nearby table and, screaming in pent-up frustration, smash it over Cato's head. The force of it knocks him to the ground and I jump on top of him, punching and clawing any piece of him I can reach.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, you disgusting excuse for a human being!" I shout, my voice rasping in my throat. "I hope Snow kills you. I hope he does because if he doesn't I'm doing it myself! Don't you ever talk about Peeta like that again, do you hear me?" Out of words, I strike him again and again and again, knowing it's only a matter of time before he has enough presence of mind to toss me off him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I hear someone call out. Hands grab my arms and legs, lifting me off of Cato Bodea. He looks up at me with abject hatred and I kick against whoever's holding me back, my mouth twisted into a feral snarl.

"What's going on here?" the same voice demands. I angle my head and see a man that I instantly recognize Brutus, one of the more popular Victors from District 2. Short and stocky but strong as an ox, with no hair and eyes that are so grey they seem almost colorless, he holds me still but focuses on Cato, who is still on the ground, and I realize that he must be Cato's mentor.

"I told you no fighting," he says in a stern voice, confirming my suspicion. Cato spits on the ground in disgust.

"She started it," he says, still glaring at me.

"I did not, you absolute—"

"Enough," Brutus says in a voice harsh enough to send me into silence. "I'm not going to make you apologize as neither of you would mean it anyway but if you can't get along then just stay away from each other."

"Gladly," I say, oddly vindicated that Cato's mentor is taking my side in this. Brutus lets me go and without a backward glance I go into my room, slamming the door behind me. I can hear Brutus and Cato arguing outside but I ignore them. I strip out of my dress and heels, beyond anxious to get the Capitol's costume off, and drop them down the electronic laundry shoot on my way in to the bathroom. I fiddle with the dozens of different controls in the shower, choosing them at random, but pause when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My face and chest are flushed from anger and exertion. My hair, perfectly coiffed in my signature braid this morning, has come loose and is frizzy around my face. I run a finger over the stripes of dried blood on my arm and gingerly touch the hand-shaped bruises Cato left behind. They lie to you when they say you've won the games. There's no such thing as winning the Hunger Games. Once you're reaped, you never stop playing.

I barely feel the water and soap as I shower. All I can think about is having to visit District 11 tomorrow and see Rue's family. I've been so overcome with grief for Peeta that I haven't mourned my ally as much as I should have. Once I'm dried, dressed, and in bed, I whistle Rue's song until I fall asleep, my sheets bunched inside my fists.

The next morning, I dress in a white blouse, grey trousers, and matching blazer that Cinna laid out for me. The heels are the same as yesterday. I wonder what my Capitol outfit will look like. The districts don't care for obvious reasons, but the Capitol won't tolerate their newfound hero wearing such simple clothing. I look down at the long sleeves of my jacket as Flavius braids my hair and I wonder if it was chosen to hide the bruises on my arms.

While Venia is doing my makeup and Octavia attends to my toe nails, Haymitch enters the bathroom, a stern look on his face.

"You should knock first," I say. "I could have been naked."

Haymitch doesn't smile, only sits on the counter in front of me, blocking my view of Venia's work.

"What happened with Cato yesterday?" he asks in a quiet voice.

"Nothing," I say. He knocks over some bottles of different creams, shattering them and making Venia gasp.

"Don't lie to me," he says, his jaw so tight it looks ready to break. "What happened?"

"He got pissed at me and I got pissed back," I say, jutting my chin out a little bit. "He's upset he has to share his victory with some nobody from District 12."

"You expect him to be happy about it?" Haymitch asks in exasperation, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't care what he feels about it," I say, rising to my feet as Venia and Octavia step away, their work done. "Brutus was right. We need to just to stay away from each other until the tour is over."

"You think this is over when the tour ends?" Haymitch asks, following me out of the room. "You haven't been paying attention."

"Alright then, five minutes till show time, everyone!" Effie calls out amidst the flurry of people rushing around to get ready for our District 11 appearance. I take a deep breath, holding tight to my speech paper. I've thought about what I'm going to say about Rue and Thresh; in fact, I thought of little else last night. The hard part won't be talking about the fallen tributes. It will be facing their families.

Cato makes a mocking bow as I walk out before him and I ignore him, my eyes full of the people of District 11. I never realized how small District 12 is before now. The crowd of people stretches as far as the eye can see, all their eyes riveted on the stage on which I now stand. My palms begin to sweat as Effie introduces me and I move to stand front and center.

The speech itself is the same one I gave in my own district. The Victory Tour isn't televised, only photographed, so it allows for the monotony. I can't draw my eyes away from Rue's family as I talk. Five small children, fear and defeat in their eyes, look up at me as I speak. Her parents weep, but a man who I can only assume is her grandfather keeps a straight, stern face, his eyes locked with mine as I talk about how honored I am to have won the Hunger Games.

"I didn't know Thresh very well," I say, "but he was a true hero inside the arena. He stayed true to himself right up until the very end and I admired him for that. He chose to fight on his own, even when the Career tributes offered him an alliance." I pause before continuing. "I did have a close relationship with Rue. I immediately took to her because she reminded me of my own sister, Prim, but I became close to her because of her kindness, her innocence, and her determination to survive without becoming a cold-blooded killer. I still think about her every day. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. And I hope you see her too."

I take a shaky breath, step away from the mic and turn to walk away but a single sound stops me in my tracks. I look over my shoulder and see Rue's grandfather standing near the stage. He whistles Rue's tune once again before lifting his hand in District 12's sign of respect and admiration. My heart swells in pain and regret and, without thinking, I stride to the very edge of the stage and make the sign myself, my face a mask of unspoken emotion. Slowly, more people reciprocate the sign until the crowd is a sea of hands turned toward me. They start chanting Rue's name but to my surprise it soon gives way to my own. People are yelling, "Katniss! Katniss!" and I can do nothing but stand there, my arm raised in a silent salute to Rue.

The crowd becomes rowdy the longer it chants. Sadness gives way to anger as people start yelling and pushing. Peacekeepers hurry to bring the crowd to order but District 11 has numbers on its side. Two Peacekeepers come up behind me and grab me, linking their arms through mine and pulling me back off the stage.

"What are you doing?" I demand, my eyes on Rue's grandfather.

"It's for your own safety," one of them says as I watch two more Peacekeepers beat Rue's grandfather to his knees. Just before I'm pulled offstage, one of them puts a bullet in his head, the pop loud enough to be heard over the chanting and yelling of District 11.

"No!" I yell, but it's too late. More Peacekeepers hurry to hide the sight of District 11 from me but they cannot disguise the sounds of gunfire.

Haymitch is at my side in an instant, trying to tell me to calm down as the Peacekeepers bodily carry me to the train.

"Make it stop, make it stop," I repeat over and over again, my vision blurry with tears. Haymitch looks at me in pity.

"I can't, sweetheart," he says and for once there's no sarcasm in his voice.

The Peacekeepers don't let me go until they reach my room on the train. They shut the door firmly behind them as they leave, making it clear that I'm not supposed to follow them. I couldn't care less. I race to the toilet and vomit till I'm sure there's absolutely nothing left in my stomach. I can't unsee the horror I just witnessed. Those people were innocent. They were showing their anger at the death of a little girl who was too young to die. They weren't hurting anyone.

Once I feel capable of standing, I get up and move back to my room, unsure of what to do with myself, unable to believe what just happened.

A whirring noise catches my attention and I turn towards the television screen that takes up nearly an entire wall of the room. President Snow's face fills the screen and my stomach drops.

"You are quite a problem child, aren't you, Miss Everdeen?" he says, humor in his voice. My hands tighten to fists. "I warned you what would happen if you did not play by my rules, Miss Everdeen. Inciting rebellious behavior in District 11 is not playing by my rules. Thanks to your actions, Miss Gazon's family is dead. Next time, it will be your own." The screen goes black and I drop to my knees, the guilt a physical weight on my shoulders. I want to throw up again but I know that nothing will come up. Rue's entire family is dead because of me. If I had just ignored her grandfather none of this would have happened.

Feeling like a zombie, I rise to my feet and leave the room, knowing what I have to do next. I enter Cato's room without knocking. He's sitting in the window seat, watching the world outside zoom by. He ignores me so I move to sit across from him.

"I want to talk strategy," I say, Rue's grandfather's broken body filling my sight. He glances at me and laughs before looking out the window again.

"You want to talk strategy now?" he asks. "Too late. With that stunt you just pulled, we're all dead anyway. Now get out."

Author's Note: Hey there! Sorry this chapter took forever, I'll try to be speedier in the future. Lots of things to say here. First of all, I want to give a big shoutout of thanks to user moonpetals16; we had a great discussion about Cato's characterization and it was super helpful and insightful for me. You go girl ^_^ Second, don't worry, we aren't devoting a chapter to each district, that would get tedious after a while. 12 and 11 were just important. 2 might be getting its own chapter but it might just be part of a chapter, I'm not sure yet. Thank you for sticking with me this far! And for the news you've all been waiting for…though we still have QUITE a ways to go to get there, I can now safely say that Cato/Katniss—as in shipping—is going to have a role in this story. Will it be a mushy romance? Mmmmno. I don't think it's in character for either of them to have mushy romances at all, let alone with each other. It's going to be more driven by respect and sympathy for each other. So….mmmyes. Reviews? Please?