A/N:
*awkward wave* heyyy… I'm back… I wanted to post this chapter yesterday, but I literally fell asleep on my laptop while trying to type it. Sorry this chapter took wayyyyyy longer than I had intended… I have no excuse. Blame Christmas. I can't do anything without having to go to a party or visit relatives or… Just…here. New chapter.
The mayhem that follows Sam's announcement is passed in a blur for me. It's as if the entire party has been set into fast forward, but I have been left at normal speed, and can only watch as the world races around me. The only thing anchoring me down to earth is the constant feeling of my hand in Sam's. It isn't much, but it's all I have. So I take it.
There is one thing, however, that repeats clearly in my mind. One of my few pleasures of the night. President Snow's reaction to what Sam said. The way his eyebrows raised just a tad as he tried to take in the words that had been spoken; his jaw slackening just enough to show his surprise when he did; his quick retreat from the festivities afterwards.
"Well…" he had said, once the chattering and squeals of delight had died down enough for him to be heard. "This is certainly a surprise."
"We couldn't think of a better time to make the announcement than here," Sam had replied with a sunny laugh. I had to admit, I was impressed. He was definitely a very convincing actor.
"I offer my congratulations," Snow replied, attempting to cover up his mistake of showing too much emotion. But it was too late. I knew it, and President Snow knew it too. The party was being recorded live. Everyone in the districts have already seen it.
No surprise, the cameras "malfunctioned" soon after, and quickly ceased recording. Snow was gone at this point. Though I hadn't seen Plutarch yet with how large the crowd had grown, I assumed he was with the president, most likely discussing whether or not to kill us.
"Alright, Miss Mongelle," Yula says at last, tottering slightly on her massive heels as she walks towards me with her Capitol friends. I raise an eyebrow at the formal use of my name, but don't comment. Her turquoise face is bright and shining, the latter probably a result of all the alcohol she has been drinking tonight. She looks incredibly pleased; no doubt she has gotten her share of the spotlight as well now that a District 5 victor is at the head of attention. "Come now. It's time to head back to the train."
"Ah, you're taking her from me already?" Sam says right on cue, feigning disappointment. Sending what I am sure Yula thinks is her most dazzling smile, she laughs, and then clucks with fake disapproval. She almost looks like a mother, wagging her finger at us. A very unusual, turquoise mother, but a mother nonetheless.
"Now, I will hear none of that," she chides, puffing her orange lips out. I suppose it was meant to make her look like she was pouting, but all I can picture is a disturbingly bright and colorful fish. She doesn't make it much easier to take her seriously when she attempts to narrow her eyes at me, and they instead become wider (probably from whatever alcohol she has been drinking). Tripping just the tiniest inch, she manages to say, "I am very disappointed in you, young lady. Keeping such a thing from your escort, of all people!"
"Oh, I definitely never meant to disappoint you, Yula," I mutter, not terribly caring anymore as to whether or not they buy my act. It has been a long night, and at this point anything keeping me away from my room on the train is an unwelcome distraction.
Of course, as wobbly as she already is, she doesn't seem to notice my annoyance. She just laughs and pats my shoulder as if we have just shared a terribly amusing joke.
"Oh, you two may have already won the Games, Waverly," she laughs even more, "But you'll be the death of me yet!"
The look of contempt I give her must show my disgust, because I can feel Sam shift uncomfortably from his spot next to me. I don't care, though, sneering, "Is that supposed to be funny?"
Sam jumps in front of me, abruptly cutting off the conversation between Yula and I. It takes everything in my power not to send the iciest glare I possibly can at him for it, but at the same time, I am grateful for the headache he saved me from. Meanwhile, Yula continues to laugh with her other drunken Capitol friends, almost not noticing that I ever said anything.
"Well, I guess it's getting late anyway," he says, purposely speaking just loud enough for the escorts to hear. Not that they are listening in the first place. What do they care what we do when the cameras are gone?
"I guess so," I reply.
For another moment he shifts uncomfortably—something that even I can tell is not common to him—and runs a hand through his thick brown hair, unconsciously biting on the corners of his mouth. I'm too tired to even attempt to comprehend his reasons for doing so, writing it off as simply part of the act.
"So… I'll see you soon, I guess," he says at length.
"If they decide not to kill us," I mutter cryptically.
Giving a short, humorless laugh in which his mouth doesn't even open to do so, Sam shrugs. "Yeah, I guess there's that too."
I never gave much thought as to how the other District 5 victors would react to the news, or if they would care at all. But I definitely did not expect the reaction I did get when I met them on the train.
Marble and Baker are the first ones I see when I step onto the train. As they had been the entire night, they are discussing something amongst themselves in voices so low that no one could even attempt to hear them. The grins on their faces make them look years younger; I can almost picture the two sixteen year old boys standing together at the reaping of so many years ago. When they see me, both of them freeze their conversation.
Even in my tired state, I pause, curious. They have barely even glanced at me before, let alone stop their whole conversation as soon as I walk in. In fact, I was pretty sure they hadn't even realized there were other District 5 victors besides themselves. But here we are, and for a long, uncomfortable minute, the three of us look at each other. And then Marble does something mind-boggling.
He nods at me, smiling. Shocked by this, I stand frozen for another couple seconds as I attempt to understand what I have just witnessed. If either of them had looked at me earlier, their gaze would have held either annoyance or contempt. But when he smiled at me, there was something else. There was respect.
The moment is over quickly, and the two of them go back to whatever conversation they had been having. Back to pretending I'm not there. Once I finally manage to remove my feet from where they stand, I walk over to the door leading towards where my room for the night is.
I have barely opened the door when Willa runs head-first into me. While I am only a little surprised to see her, she looks absolutely terrified to see me. Her pupils are trembling in her wide eyes and she stumbles backward into the door.
But then she realizes who I am.
Slowly, she uncurls herself from the corner she has thrown herself into, and gently rests a hand on my face. I am speechless, because she hasn't so much as looked at anyone this whole trip. When I had her as my mentor, I had barely even seen her.
Just as fast as she had approached me, she is gone in seconds. I try not to let myself think about it, but I can't help but notice all of these changes. It's clear what it's about. They don't buy the love act. They see the whole engagement as a sign of rebellion. And why should they not? They live in my district. All of them know that I spend all of my time locked up in my home, trying to forget about the Games.
My district believes in me. I feel slightly relieved at this, but not entirely. Because I still have to get the president to believe the act, which will be the biggest challenge of all. And then I have the most dreaded challenge of all: facing Mima about it.
I make sure to hurry to my room, not wanting to accidentally run into anyone else. As soon as the door clicks when I lock it into place, I feel immediately better and sigh with relief.
I'm exhausted, so I start to undress for bed. I feel much better when I finally rid myself of the too-tight dress that I have grown to hate throughout the night. In a closet, I will find, I know, outfits of all different kinds. Twenty, maybe thirty of them. It's sickening that they waste so many clothes when I am only going to be here for the night, and I don't wear any of them. Instead I just slip back into the clothes that I wore on the train. They are simple and smell like home.
I spend most of the night thinking about Mima, and occasionally cry.
The next morning when we arrive at the station, a good portion of the district is waiting for us. None of them look too happy—it is District 5, after all, any reminder of the Hunger Games is an unwelcome one—but some look faintly curious. We are greeted with faint chatter when the door opens and we step off.
As soon as they see my face, all murmuring dies off. Hundreds of faces stare expectantly at me, awaiting my response. At the same time, I pause, waiting for theirs.
There is hope in their eyes. I can see it plainly. They don't believe the act; they hope it isn't true. They know it isn't true. From the smallest of the children to the oldest of men, all eyes are fixed on me.
I want to say something. I want to give them reassurance that I really am on their side. I want to let them know. And I probably would have, too, if I didn't see the white uniforms surrounding the entire crowd.
My eyes widen slightly, even as I try to hide my true feelings. I can't help but look a little surprised, though. We have peacekeepers in the district, of course, but I don't remember there being so many of them. Each of them are glaring coldly at me, daring me to try something. The message is clear. If I do, all of these people will suffer for it.
I guess the president works faster than I thought.
The door creaks when I open it, giving away the fact that I am home. I swallow and lick my dry lips. Planning the downfall of the government had not taken me even a minute to agree to. But facing Mima was something else entirely.
"Waverly?" a soft voice calls. It takes every bit of courage I have to walk into the living room.
There she is. Mima, her skin a pale pinkish color. She looks up at me, and whatever she feels about my presence, I can't tell. There are so many different emotions in her eyes, and I can't even distinguish one of them. We stare at each other, in a race to see whose façade will break first.
For the first time, I lose that battle.
"I'm sorry, Mima," I whisper as the tears blur my vision.
Her face softens lovingly, and she opens her arms for an embrace, which I quickly throw myself into. Surprisingly, the tears don't run down my face as I expect them too. I stare blankly at the couch over Mima's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Mima," I repeat.
"You don't need to explain yourself," she murmurs into my ear, "All I've ever wanted is your happiness." Drawing me back, she smiles and looks gently at me. "Do you love him?"
I find no hesitation in lying.
"Yes, Mima." I almost even convince myself with the tenderness I say it with. I don't even question myself for lying. Ever since the train, I've known I would lie to her. If Snow ever questions her, she needs to truly believe that I love Sam.
Mima's whole face lights up, breaking my heart. I don't like lying to her, but if it means saving her life, I must.
At least she's happy, I try to convince myself.
"I'm so happy," Mima echoes my thoughts, "So, so happy for you."
Three days later, I get the message that Caesar Flickerman wants to interview Sam and I. Snow is convinced. For now.
A/N:
Wooo! Now the fun part! (For me, anyway. Hopefully for you too). I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I wish all of you a merry Christmas if I don't get to before then! As always, thanks for reading!