Chapter 7
A/N: Thank you to morningstar115 and lizyeh2000 for reviewing! And thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited since the last time I said thank you (Virginia1675, kolorfulk, Kelvin240, Darkriver Hunter, literarylove365, AnIrishHopelessRomantic (great name!), Faeyeleonora178, hstrywlk, soccahottie11, beserkerbeast, JacobB'sImprintee, deltagirl74, kimbaleena2002, lizyeh2000 & CaptainOfTheKeep).
Please review!
Disclaimer: See disclaimer from Chapter 6.
She smiles back, and surprises me again by reaching up on tiptoe and kissing my cheek.
My cheek burns where her lips met my skin. The spot is still tender from Haymitch's punch. She's kissed my bruise.
The tingling feeling lasts through the elevator ride to the top of the Training Center tower. This elevator is made of crystal, and I watch the rest of the tributes and their prep teams shrink as we shoot up towards our floor. The upper twelve levels are the living quarters for the tributes in the week leading up to the Games. In a very predictable feat of design, level twelve is reserved for the District Twelve team.
Effie talks the entire ride up, something about meeting with sponsors while our prep team cleaned us up. She says something about coal, and pearls. I try to focus on what she's saying, but I'm not really listening. My mind lingers on the feel of soft lips brushing my cheek.
I can feel Portia's eyes on me. She and Cinna have been murmuring quietly to each other in the corner. The elevator's doors slide apart on a wide-open area with couches and chairs arranged around a dark viewing screen. Over to the right, there's a long table covered in a crisp white table cloth, set out with delicate plates and gold cutlery, tall vases filled with bright red flowers, but no food. There are six low-backed chairs for the six place settings. I wonder if Cinna and Portia will be eating here every meal. I hope so.
Katniss doesn't look around, just steps off the elevator, looks at Effie, and says, "Where's my room?"
"Oh, yes, you must wish to change! Come, come this way. Aren't these rooms beautiful? So much nicer than anything you're used to, of course. Even our train can't compare to our accommodations here in the Capitol. Katniss, I was so impressed with your demeanor in the opening ceremonies. You did so well…." Effie's voice trails away after her and Katniss follows.
When she's gone, I press my hand to the spot she kissed, trying to hold onto the feeling. I stand just outside the elevator and feel the doors close behind me. A hand touches the small of my back, maybe Portia's? It pushes me forward gently. I stumble a bit, then walk into the room in a daze.
She's just grateful for the support during the carriage ride, I tell myself. She didn't mean anything by it other than to say thank you. But what if it did mean something? What if she noticed me, really saw me during the parade? Isn't that worse? Even if she did, I can't let myself believe it, I think. It would shatter what's left of my mangled heart, either way.
A deep, quiet voice close by my ear surprises me. "Come Peeta, I want to show you something," Cinna whispers. My hand drops from my face, my eyes clear and settle on Cinna's face. Like Portia's, his eyes are kind. I nod and motion for him to lead on.
I follow him through a long hall lined with doors on either side, up a flight of stairs tucked behind the last door, and out into the night air. He's lead me to the roof. The wind climbs up the walls of the Training Center, blowing through my hair and snatching at my clothes. I'm compelled to rush to the edge and look out over the Capitol.
I gasp at the expanse below me. I knew the elevator ride was long, so we had to be up pretty high, but I never imagined this. Only the birds should see what I'm seeing. And the Training Center isn't even the tallest building in the city. Others in the distance have roofs obscured by clouds, their sharp metal peaks piercing the sky.
Noise and shouting and laughter hit me again. I look down to see cars and people moving below me, bright lights reflecting off metal hoods, clothes, hair and skin in a riot of color in the dying sunlight.
Transfixed, I say, "Are we even allowed up here? It's beautiful, but you think they'd be afraid one of us would decide to jump rather than face the arena."
A sigh beside me lets me know Cinna has joined me. "Yes, I suppose there is beauty here. Affected beauty, only valued for the attention it garners, not for its own sake." He says. I can hear sadness in his voice. "And don't worry, even if you wanted to, you can't escape." I watch as he tosses a small object over the edge, and I'm shocked, figuratively, when it bounces off thin air, right back into his hands. "Forcefield."
I glance at him and realize he's looking at me. I turn away from the view of the city, and look around the rest of the roof. There is a clear dome over what looks like a small garden in one corner, but the rest is bare, uninteresting. I finally meet his gaze. I find understanding there, kindness, and sympathy. I'm instantly suspicious.
"Portia told you, didn't she?" I ask. I feel betrayed.
"Yes, Peeta, Portia told me. I hope you will forgive her. As you get to know her, you'll find she has a difficult time hiding things, especially from me. I suspected something was going on and I confess I pestered until she told me. She's telling Haymitch and Effie now," Cinna says. He looks down at his hands, spread in front of him, asking forgiveness for them both.
"I'm certain you see its best we all know. Our chances of helping Katniss only increase if everyone is working together, with all the information," He looks up at me. I can see he's sincere.
I grin self-deprecatingly, "She got to you too, didn't she?" I know I'm not alone, not the only one willing to take risks to save Katniss. I may be the only one who has to die, but the rest will do what they can.
Cinna chuckles, "She certainly has… something, doesn't she? And she's off to a great start. You both made quite the impression, if I do say so myself." He seems pleased.
"She's the only one that matters, now," I say as my grin fades. If we're going to do this, I can't think of myself. I was never going to make it through the Games, anyway, so might as well focus on something I have a chance of accomplishing.
"Peeta, I want you to know, we would have worked just as hard for you, if that's what you wanted," Cinna puts his hand on my shoulder, "We still can, if you change your mind. Portia and I, we could give you as good a chance as any. Think about it."
"No. She could do this. She really could. And she has Prim at home, her mother, and –" I hesitate, "Well, she has something to go back to, anyway. Trust me, without her, I've got nothing to miss in District Twelve." Except Madge, and a few others who may miss me back. My father, maybe my brothers. Don't think about them, can't think about them.
I nod, "It's better this way. I'm not mad at you, or Portia for telling, not really. Just so long as Katniss doesn't find out."
Cinna sighs again, resigned this time. "I had to try," he says, "But if you're sure, we'll all do our best to help her. Now, you need to go get changed and ready for dinner." He looks down at his wrist, where a brown leather strap holds a pearl watch face showing early evening.
He turns away from me, leaning over the edge and looking down at the Capitol. These stylists aren't who I expected them to be, if I had any expectations. I make my way to the stairs leading back to our quarters.
I look back when Cinna says, "You're an extraordinary young man, Peeta, with an extraordinary capacity for love. Don't let them take it away from you." He continues to stare out at the view.
I want to say something, anything. I'm not extraordinary. I'm Peeta, just Peeta. But I don't know what to say that won't sound foolish, so I go down the stairs.
_O_O_O_
My first shower in the Capitol is an experience I'll never forget. The overwhelming number of buttons and knobs confuse me, and I eventually end up coated in thick pink foam smelling of roses. It takes a while to scrub it off, but at least I know I'm clean. I doubt I'll ever get rid of the rose smell, though.
The closet is equally ridiculous. I can only laugh at the extravagance, all of it for someone who will be dead inside a week. It takes a few tries, but I figure out how to get clothes I can be comfortable in: a simple pair of soft, dark pants with a matching jacket, and a loose-fitting orange shirt. It's my favorite color, it gives me courage.
A knock on the door as I'm pulling on my rubber soled shoes accompanies Effie's voice calling, "Dinner! Come, Peeta! Come, Katniss! It's time for dinner!"
I emerge first, moving towards the sound of Effie's shoes clicking down the hallway and into the large sitting area. The table is now covered with polished silver domes, which I assume hide our dinner. The most amazing scents fill the room.
"Peeta!" Portia calls out. She and Cinna are standing on a small balcony revealed by a frameless door in the wall of blank windows across the room. I move past Effie to step out onto a platform, on which I'm startled by the absence of railings to keep us from falling to our deaths. The view of the city is even more spectacular than from the roof, if less private.
I quirk my eyebrow at Cinna. He understands my question right away.
"Yes, more forcefields protect us here. The designers clearly wanted nothing to impede our outlook," he says.
Portia moves over to me, touching my arm, "Do you forgive me, Peeta?" she asks. She looks so contrite I can't help but smile at her.
"Don't worry, I understand," I say, "And even if I were mad, it wouldn't be for long. I'm headed into the arena soon."
"Don't, Peeta," Portia says, frowning, "Don't joke, please. It's not a laughing matter. We all take what you are trying to do very seriously."
Cinna takes her other hand, "It's ok, Portia. It's Peeta's way of coping. He laughs to keep from crying. Right?"
They both look at me, and I do laugh, "I never thought about it that way, but I guess you're right. Laughing is better, isn't it?"
Smiling, Cinna nods. Portia still looks unsure, but Effie and Katniss walk into the dining area and we all make our way back inside.
Haymitch arrives as we sit down, and I'm grateful Cinna and Portia are staying for dinner at least. The last meal the four of us tried to eat together on the train, Katniss, Haymitch, Effie and I, ended rather badly. Haymitch looks like he's bathed, and his hair and whiskers have been cut to a presentable length. He even seems sober, and his eyes look a little less red.
Our stylists seem to have earned Haymitch's grudging respect, and Effie's enthusiastic admiration. When we're all seated, they only have praise for Cinna and Portia, and they seem to be speaking civilly each other. Maybe a truce has been called, since we're all fighting for the same cause now.
Young servers dressed in white tunics lift the shiny domes covering our dinner. It smells almost as delicious as the lunch I shared with Portia before the Opening Ceremonies. My stomach rumbles at the sight of mushroom soup, a salad of strange greens, rare roast beef, noodles in a minty green sauce, and a soft, mild cheese with blue grapes. No bread this time. I can't remember a meal in my life not involving bread. It's strange, and a bit disconcerting.
I check to see how Katniss is reacting to the feast, and her eyes are round as the dinner plates. Neither one of us is used to the sight of more food than we can eat. She takes a portion from every platter, so I do the same. We both focus on the meal and let the adults talk.
I've almost finished my plate when my attention is drawn by a girl, in the same white tunic as the other servers, who places a beautiful cake on the table, and promptly lights in on fire.
What? What is going on? My father would have a fit! I almost jump out of my chair to put out the flames when I realize the adults are clapping and exclaiming happily at the display. I relax and watch as it burns out, leaving a layer of torched frosting around the edges of the cake. Intrigued, I lean forward to accept a slice when Katniss speaks for the first time since we made it up to our floor.
"What makes it burn? Is it alcohol? That's the last thing I wa – oh! I know you!"
Her exclamation brings all eyes to her. Katniss stares at the girl who brought the cake, obviously trying to remember where she's seen her face. I take a quick look at her, pale skin, red hair, striking features. I've never seen her before.
"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought," Effie huffs.
"What's an Avox? Katniss asks, confused.
"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Haymitch answers, "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her." The look he gives her plainly says she should let this go.
I see a spark of recognition hit her eyes, but Katniss quickly puts up her guard, to hide from the adults. Effie admonishes her again, and she stammers something placating, but fumbles. I have an idea.
"Delly Cartwright!" I snap my fingers, "That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly." Delly looks nothing like this girl. She's plain as white bread but sweet as can be. One of the friends who might miss me back in District 12.
Katniss gives me a grateful look, "Of course, that's who I'm thinking of. It must be the hair."
"Something about the eyes, too," I say, hoping to add to our credibility.
The adults apparently believe my explanation, and seem eager to move on from the topic. I wonder about the girl, and how Katniss could possible know her. I'll have to wait for the opportunity to get an answer.
The cake is delicious, warm and surprisingly moist for having been set on fire. After everyone is finished, we arrange ourselves in the sitting area facing the viewing screen, and watch a replay of the opening ceremonies. None of the other tributes come close to the coverage we receive. Even expecting it, our exit from the stables in our fiery cloaks is astonishing. Behind the voice over commentary discussing Cinna's brilliance, you can hear the crowds chanting our names. I'm a bit put out that Portia isn't being equally recognized, but I don't say anything.
"Whose idea was the hand holding?" Haymitch suddenly asks.
"Cinna's," says Portia, with a nod to her partner, who smiles.
"Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice," Haymitch praises, but looks meaningfully at me.
I know what he's implying. Cinna came up with the idea because he knew I'm in love with Katniss. Something I neglected to tell Haymitch. Maybe our stylists have come up with a good strategy since they know how I feel, and the hand holding was the beginning. Either way, it seems Haymitch sees it as a small rebellion against our deal. I look back steadily, hoping he doesn't decide to ruin whatever good start Cinna and Portia have won us.
We stare at each other a moment, neither willing to look away. But then Haymitch nods, almost imperceptibly, looking over at Katniss. I feel relief wash through me. Haymitch is part of the team. Team Katniss. The thought makes me smile.
Haymitch tells us training will start tomorrow, and we'll talk at breakfast about our strategy. "Now get some sleep while the grown-ups talk," he says.
Katniss and I move together towards our rooms. I pass my room and wait until she pauses beside one of the doors. I step sidewise and lean against the frame. I'm careful to make sure I'm not blocking her from entering her room if she really wants to. I want to talk to her, not put her on the defensive.
"So," I say nonchalantly, "Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here."
She blinks up at me. I can tell she's debating whether to tell me what's going on. I will her to speak, but she still hesitates. Maybe she doesn't want to risk being overheard. I consider walking into her room, but I don't know if that's allowed.
Instead, I ask, "Have you been on the roof yet?" She looks skeptical. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though."
She considers this, "Can we just go up?"
I tell her to follow me, and up we go. In the darkness, the lights of the city are brighter and more colorful than before. We walk to the edge, and streets are still alive with cars and people. They look impossibly small from up here.
"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" I tell her.
"What did he say?" she asks.
"You can't. Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof," I say, demonstrating by tentatively reaching out my hand. The forcefield gives me a sharp shock and I jerk my hand back. It hurt. "Always worried about our safety," I joke.
Katniss asks if I think we're being watched.
"Maybe," I answer, "Come see the garden."
As we move under the dome, the tinkling from the wind chimes hanging on the branches of the potted trees surround us. I couldn't hear it from the edge of the roof, but now it's enough to drown out our conversation, should anyone be listening.
She tells me the story. She and Gale, the tall, handsome boy she is always with, her cousin I think, were out on the other side of the fence hunting. I knew she hunted back home. My father bought squirrels from her and cooked them when my mother was at market for the day. I'd always wondered what is was like beyond the borders of our district. Her story gives me a glimpse. She tells me how a routine hunting trip is interrupted by the sight of a boy and a girl in tattered clothes running from something, she didn't know what. She and Gale were hidden from sight, and froze when the hovercraft appeared out of nowhere. Obviously exhausted, the pair couldn't outrun the Capitol ship. The girl was caught in a net shot from the underbelly of the hovercraft, and the boy was speared though the chest and hauled up as well. Her face is haunted as Katniss recalls the hovercraft suddenly disappearing.
"Did they see you?" I ask.
"I don't know. We were under a rock shelf," she says, but she has a guilty look, and she starts to shake. I take off my jacket and lay it across her shoulders.
I wonder if those two were from the Capitol, and where they were going. Katniss tells me she thinks they were from here, but has no idea where they were going or why they would want to leave.
"I'd leave here," I say. It must be my day from blurting out anything that pops into my head. Oh well, what else can they do to me? I laugh, "I'd go home if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime."
She laughs softly, but the shivers haven't stopped. I don't want to cut our time up here short, but I say we better go in. As we're walking towards stairs, I think about her story. Mostly about the fact that she was with Gale.
"Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I ask, trying to sound as causal as possible.
"Yes," she says, "Do you know him?"
"Not really," I shake my head. "I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something? You favor each other."
My heart sinks when she says, "No, we're not related."
I'm not supposed to be disappointed. I should be grateful she has someone special back home. Her life will be happier if she has someone. Why can't I believe it? Why can't I help but be jealous of a boy a thousand miles away?
Scrambling for something to say, I ask, "Did he come to say good-bye to you?" I know the answer. I saw him get roughed up by the Peacekeepers in the Justice Building. She asked him to take care of her family. She must trust him.
"Yes," she says slowly, walking a little faster so she can see my face, "So did your father. He brought me cookies."
Another thing I know. He does it for every tribute. It's a small kindness he indulges in, one my mother can never know about. If Katniss survives, I don't want her to talk about it to anyone, so I say, "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys. He knew your mother when they were kids."
"Oh yes," she looks surprised, like she had forgotten, "She grew up in town."
We've made it down the stairs and we're standing at her door again. She hands back my jacket.
"See you in the morning, then," she says.
"See you," I say, and walk towards my own door, in the same direction as the sitting area.
I hear Katniss's door open, then softly close. I smile. I've spoken with her more today than I have our entire lives. I'm a lamb brought to slaughter, but I can't help the giddy feeling bubbling in my chest. I laugh at myself. She has Gale, and I have butterflies. Life is great.
As I'm about to open my door, quiet voices drift down the hall. The adults are still awake, talking. Discussing strategy, I'm sure. I should just go to bed. I'll find out what they decide in the morning, but curiosity gets the better of me. I tiptoe down the hall to the very edge of the entryway until I can hear them clearly, but can't be seen.
" – can't deny it won't be easy." I hear Haymitch say.
"Of course, it won't be easy," Portia snaps, sharper than I've heard her yet. "We've got a lot going against us. But we've got some surprises up our sleeves."
"Don't forget we've got something no one in Hunger Games history has ever had: a love story," Cinna says, a little dreamily.
"Peeta doesn't want her to know," Portia reminds him.
"You leave that to me, sweetheart," Haymitch says. "You two gave us a good start with the flame trick. Let me worry about the rest. Just keep making matching outfits and wowing the Capitol crowds with District Twelve's fashion sense."
"Oh, this is so romantic! Just like a holonovel!" Effie exclaims.
The others shush her, and Portia reminds her to act like she doesn't know anything about it in front of Katniss.
"It's a shame," Haymitch says pensively, after a short silence, "That's it's the girl we're working to save. The boy is so much more, let's say, likeable. She's about as likeable as a drowning cat."
Another silence, then Cinna says, "Katniss has her own qualities to admire. She loves her sister fiercely, and she's brave, no one could doubt that."
"Pigheaded is more like it," Haymitch scoffs, "but she's a survivor. She'll do anything to win. Victors can recognize other victors, and I'll be damned if we can't make her one." There's a gulping noise, like Haymitch is taking a long pull from a short bottle. "Ok, I'm for bed. This staying sober deal I've made with the kids is a pain in the ass," and I hear Haymitch get up and start to move my way.
I jerk up, sprinting to my door and slip inside a few seconds before four sets of footfalls pass by. I don't think I've been caught.
A/N: Bonus points for the readers who catch my not so oblique references to other favorite fandoms. Thanks for reading!
