XXX
District 2
District 2 has been the most hostile stop we've had yet. Every district has some underlying bit of contempt for us – how can they not, when Peeta and I lived and their children died? I wish I could explain the complexity of my survivor's guilt in a grand speech to the entire district, or at least have Peeta do it, but that sort of stunt would surely lead to only more bad things.
Our brief tour by the huge Peacekeeper training station is full of glares and sneers. Our presentation at the Justice Building is painful – the families of Cato and Clove stare at us so sharply that I'm sure they're planning our demises. We rush through our scripted words, waxing about the bravery and strength of their tributes, and all I can think is: I sent an arrow into Cato's head. I hated your children, and they hated me.
The reception at the mayor's house is the worst part of the day, as we actually have to interact with the District 2 residents in attendance. Every pair of eyes says the same thing: Our tributes should be at this dinner, not you. And it's sort of true: if not for Peeta and me, Cato or Clove likely would have come home victorious.
"Maybe we should ask Effie if we can leave a little early," Peeta suggests in my ear as we walk the length of the buffet table. My gaze darts between the food and the guests watching us. I feel as if I'm back in the arena, sizing up my competition.
"Congratulations," a voice hisses behind us, and we turn. An older woman in a lovely evening gown has materialized. She would be beautiful if not for her scowl. "Are you enjoying yourselves? Are you enjoying your victory?"
Peeta's arm snakes around me. Though I appreciate his chivalry, I also want to scoff at him – which of us scored that 11 in training? I can handle a few nasty words. "We are, thank you," I say as graciously as possible.
"I don't know who you think you're fooling," she continues, not trying to lower her voice. "It was all so convenient, that you fell in love during the Games, and got the rules changed for you."
My heart thumps loudly and my mouth goes dry. "Now wait a minute—" Peeta starts, taking a step forward, but the woman interrupts him. "Maybe if you weren't trying so hard it would be more believable," she snits, and then a man is at her side, tugging on her arm, muttering, "Pernia, let's go," leading her off.
Haymitch wanders over to us and the party resumes, though more subdued. "You okay?" he asks, looking at both of us but lingering on me.
"Fine," I assure him, and then I wriggle out of Peeta's hold. "I'm just going to get a drink," I say, moving off before either can say anything else, hoping they don't notice the way my arms shake as I ladle punch into a glass.
Three stops to go.
XXX