The elevator doors have barely opened to the District 12 quarters when Haymitch and Effie descend on me, demanding to know details of the evaluation. Ignoring their onslaught of questions, I just shake my head, insisting we wait for Katniss. It doesn't matter how I did – I'm dead either way. Effie huffs in annoyance, not understanding why I'm insisting we wait. Haymitch just eyes me curiously, but concedes and leads us to the living room to wait.
We don't have to wait long, though. Within ten minutes, we hear the ding of the elevator and the doors slide open.
"Katniss, come to the sitting room, we want to hear all about it!" Effie chimes. I crane my head towards the elevator doors, but only in time to see her for a brief moment before she sprints down the hall, her face buried in her hands. We all hear her beginning to sob before the door slams. I turn to Haymitch and see a look of worry etched into the lines of his face, and instantly the dread I first felt at seeing the drunken Gamemakers fills me again. I have never seen Haymitch look this concerned about anything.
"What do you think happened?" I ask him, quietly. We both ignore Effie as she begins to circle around the room, waving her hands and rambling about manners and being taken for granted. Haymitch just shakes his head.
"Beats me, kid," is all he offers in reply. We sit for another few minutes in silence except for Effie's occasional irritating comments. Finally, I've had enough of this horrid, tension-filled silence, so I stand and leave without another word. I walk up the stairs to the roof and settle myself in the garden, next to the flowers that Katniss has inspected just a few evenings ago.
I stare at one of the flowers and am suddenly filled with such sadness, it threatens to consume me. Its petals are a beautiful shade of my favorite color – a pale orange that reminds me of the sky during those many sunrises that I watched while kneading the dough for the day's bread. I had always admired the soft beauty of the morning twilight and how, no matter what dark things were happening in the world around me, the sun never failed to come up again. It was something that even the Capitol could not harness control of. Staring at the flower, I find myself wondering how something so beautiful had ended up in a place so ugly. This brings my thoughts to Katniss. I think of her, as she was the day I first saw her – small, quiet, but portraying an air of confidence that was evident in her demeanor, and she was happy. But misfortune and hard times had hardened her, and cut her off from the rest of the world as her day-to-day life became a struggle to keep herself and her family alive. Despite everything, she remained strong and unbreakable. But as I think of the girl sobbing downstairs, I can't help but thinking that she's starting to crack.
I think back to the moment I saw her collapse outside the bakery, when I was immediately overcome with a sense of protectiveness and a need to do whatever I could to ensure she was okay. I had to help her in that moment, even if it wasn't what she wanted. That is the same feeling that fills me now. I'm not sure what I can do, but somehow, I know I have to come up with a way to ensure that, no matter her mistakes with the Gamemakers, that she can still get the sponsors that she needs in order to win. But I don't even have time to come up with an idea, as a Capitol attendant startles me out of my thoughts and indicates that it is time for me to return downstairs for dinner.
Haymitch, Effie and the stylists don't press me for details once I have reached the table, though Portia puts an arm around me and squeezes me reassuringly. We remain almost silent, even as Katniss arrives, and I can tell from her face that she's in no mood to share. But, of course, we can't avoid the topic forever.
"Okay, enough small talk," Haymitch finally says. "Just how bad were you today?" Katniss' mouth presses into a firm line, and I know that she is not going to be the first to speak.
"I don't know that it mattered," I tell everyone. "By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go." Haymitch nods, shifting his eyes coolly from mine to Katniss' face.
"And you, sweetheart?" Finally, she speaks.
"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." I feel my jaw drop open and hear Effie's spoon clatter as she drops it into her bowl of soup, horrified at this revelation. Even Haymitch seems unable to react. Katniss flushes.
"You what?" Effie gasps.
"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" she shouts.
"And what did they say?" Cinna asks.
"Nothing," she says. "Or I don't know. I walked out after that." I smile slightly, trying not to laugh. As bad as her actions were, I can't help but be glad that perhaps her spirit isn't entirely broken.
"Well that's that," Haymitch finishes the conversation.
"Will they arrest me?" Katniss asks.
"Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage," he says.
"What about my family? Will they punish them?"
"Don't think so. Wouldn't make much sense," Haymitch explains. "More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."
"Well, they've already promised to do that to us anyway," I snort. Haymitch agrees.
"What were their faces like?" Haymitch asks.
"Shocked. Terrified. Ridiculous, some of them," she says, and I can see her mood lighten as she even starts to smile a little. "One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch." Haymitch starts to cackle. The vision of it in my head is so ludicrous that I can't help but join in the laughter. Even Effie looks amused.
"Well, it serves them right. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District 12 is no excuse to ignore you," she says with indignation. I'm surprised by this uncharacteristic outburst from Effie, and she even looks startled at having said it herself. She looks around as if checking to make sure that no one except our company heard her. "I'm sorry, but that's just what I think."
It's an odd moment. My appraisal of Effie shifts as I realize that for all the times that I have thought of Effie as just another Capitol pet, happily and willingly carting us off to the Hunger Games year after year, she may not actually be as supportive of the Capitol as I had assumed. Perhaps Effie isn't nearly in possession of as much freedom as I imagined. Perhaps she's almost as scared of the Capitol as we are.
"I'll get a very bad score," Katniss says, an edge of sadness returning to her voice.
"Scores only matter if they are very good," Portia explains, telling us that people have been known to purposely get bad scores in order to make people think that they are weak.
"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get. If that," I say. "Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards. One almost landed on my foot." Katniss laughs and grins widely at me. Though I'm still worried about what our scores will be, I manage to find some comfort in the fact that I have cheered her up.
We gather in the living room after dinner. Though Katniss' mood has improved, as has my own, our conversation has lessened considerably as we all start to become more and more nervous for the revelation of our scores. It doesn't help that we will be the last two scores announced, and have to wait through seeing everyone else's scores first.
Unsurprisingly, the first four tributes – the Careers from One and Two – pull by far the highest scores of the group. The tributes from District 2 – Cato and Clove – both get tens. I barely notice the other scores as the faces and numbers flash by. Finally, I see my face appear on the screen and snap back to attention. I swallow and realize my mouth and throat have gone completely dry.
An eight flashes on the screen. My eyes widen as shock and relief hit me. Apparently I impressed someone; my score puts me ahead of most of my competitors, with the exception of the Careers, but I have even managed to match at least one of them. Perhaps I can be more effective in these Games than I thought.
Next, Katniss' face appears on screen, and immediately my nervousness returns. My score might do me some good, but it's Katniss' score that's really going to make the difference here. I look at her face and see her brow furrowed in concentration, her grey eyes boring into the screen. Her score flashes on the screen, but it's a moment before my mind actually registers what it said. She got an eleven, which puts her beyond even Cato. Her eyes widen and I see relief hit her, then she turns and smiles widely.
The room explodes with excitement and the sounds of congratulations being thrown around. But the feeling of happiness doesn't hit me. Instead, I feel fear. I think of what must be going on downstairs in the District 1 and 2 quarters as they see that a small girl from District 12 has bested them. Katniss probably has no idea, but what she has done is made herself a primary target in the Games. They will be lusting after her blood from the moment we set foot in the arena.
When I get to bed that night, I'm consumed by the thought that I need to come up with a plan to help ensure her survival, and I need to think of one soon. Only one idea seems to accomplish this in my mind, though I dread what I think I am going to have to do. I spend the night drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, trying to decide if any other plan will achieve my goal. By morning, my brain has been exhausted, and I still know that this is the best plan that I have.
When I enter the dining room for breakfast, I'm relieved to see that Haymitch has arrived already and Katniss hasn't yet. I walk directly to him and stare him in the face.
"Haymitch, you need to train me alone for the interview," I tell him. His eyes narrow at me, clearly trying to deduce my motive for requesting this. Effie starts to protest, asking why on earth I would choose to do such a thing, but Haymitch holds up his hand, silencing her.
"What's going on, boy?" he asks. "Her score have you scared?" He doesn't say this in an accusing tone, but for some reason I take this deduction of my motives very personally. He thinks that I have changed my mind about trying to save Katniss.
"No," I reply firmly. "I'm going to tell all of Panem that I'm in love with her."
A/N: Enjoy and tell me what you think!