Chapter 8

District 13 kept me busy with a constant frenzy of meetings and training sessions. I rose early each morning to run with the other soldiers and slowly awakened to the pattering of our footsteps through the woods, crushing dewey grass and snapping fallen branches. Then a quick breakfast, followed by a day of meetings for military strategy, rebellion propaganda, and weapons development. The weapons meetings were the least structured and therefore my favorite. They were informal and usually consisted of me and Beetee alone on a lower floor, experimenting with various explosives. I could drop the air of professionalism that I had been working so hard to perfect for my role as Soldier Hawthorne. I could be Gale, simple and sharp. In the evenings, I had time to myself. I was supposed to leave this time open for spontaneous meetings and emergencies, but since Peeta's rescue this time had generally been left unclaimed.

This evening had been left free. I finished my dinner at leisure and walked my dishes over to the washing bin. On my way out of the dining hall, Plutarch Heavensbee called me over to the edge of the corridor.

"Soldier Hawthorne, just one moment if you please." I hastened over to Plutarch, who pulled me into a shadowed corner.

"Is there a meeting scheduled for tonight?"

"Not quite. But I thought you might be interested to know that developments have been made on Peeta's condition."

"Developments?"

"Yes. His doctors believe that he was hijacked in the Capitol."

"Hijacked?" I thought back to my visit to Peeta. "Did this involve needles?"

"You're sharp. Yes. He was injected with tracker jacker venom, and then probably made to watch videos of Katniss from the Games." Plutarch dropped his voice. "The Capitol would have tried to pollute his memories of her, to present the scenes in a light that would portray her as his enemy and a murderer."

"An evil mutt," I whispered. Plutarch nodded. "Can Peeta be cured?"

"His doctors aren't sure. They want to try exposing him to some positive memories of District 12, to see if this can stabilize him. I thought you might be able to recommend someone for him to speak to. Someone he wouldn't associate with Katniss."

"I hardly know Peeta," I said. "I'm probably not the best person to ask about this."

"Soldier Hawthorne, there are few survivors from District 12. Just take your best guess. Someone you don't think would trigger hijacked memories."

I paused for a moment to think, sifting through all of the people I knew in District 12. No one from the Seam... then again, Peeta wouldn't know many people from there, he was the baker's son. He never knew what it was like to be hungry. But who from the merchants' families? I tried to remember my classmates, from before I quit school to hunt and work in the mines.

"You could try Delly Cartwright," I suggested. "She always seemed like a nice girl, but Katniss and I never knew her well."

"Delly Cartwright," Plutarch affirmed. "I'll go find her. We're going to see if she can talk to him later tonight. You can watch if you like. Room 18 is an observation room. There will probably be a few other rebellion leaders there with the doctors, and possibly Katniss."

Katniss. Finnick's words came rushing back to me: "Don't try to rush Katniss." But I won't be rushing her. She won't have to make a decision between me and Peeta. But maybe she'll be willing to talk for a bit. Maybe when she sees what a mess the baker's son has become, she'll give me a chance. I'm the one meant for Katniss, the one who can defend her and make sure that she is never hungry. I'm the one who would never try to strangle her, who would never sink to calling her a mutt, no matter what the Capitol did to me. I would have fought back. I'm stronger than Peeta.

"I'll be there," I told Plutarch. "Thank you for the update on Peeta. I hope everything works out tonight." But there was a part of me that did not want the baker's son to ever be himself again.


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