- 1 -
"What is it that you need me to do?" I repeat expectantly.
"Whoa, not so eager!" yet, I can tell Haymitch is pleased with my obedience and sensibility, "Say, are you on the first name basis with that Hawthorne boy?"
"Gale? Sure, but why?" I cannot help but be surprised. Why would he talk about Gale? Was it possible that Katniss found out about him messing around with me and told Haymitch? Not really a thing she'd care to discuss with her mentor while preparing for the Games, and it was a long time ago anyway, but what might be another explanation?
Haymitch scowls at me,
"Yes, Gale. Now, listen here, I don't like repeating myself twice, especially when I'm sober."
I nod quickly, and he goes on slowly and quietly as if explaining things to a child, "I know some of the new Peacekeepers seem to like you. At least, one of them. That gorilla-like fellow... No, don't you start all over again. I am not interested to hear more about your love affairs."
"But that's not true. I am not in love with him!" the injustice makes me forget everything about being sensible and obedient.
"Whatever. Girl, darn you, can you please listen to me?" Haymitch says urgently, and his face becomes so mentor-like that I go against my hurt self-esteem, fall silent, and patiently fold my hands on my lap.
"I'm not advising you to go after him on purpose. However, I'm not advising you against going out with him either if he asks you to - and he will, that far I can tell. I know what people from two are usually like: if he's set some goal for himself, he's not the one to back out. You'll only get yourself in trouble if you refuse, or you can actually play smart and gain some benefit for yourself and the rest of you folks if you play his way. So far so good?"
"Yes, I am to stick to Aelius," I gulp angry tears. Little he cares about me if he makes this suggestion, "What about Gale?"
"Hang on. We are getting there. Don't do anything crazy, do you understand? Don't try to spy on Aelius or his squad, and don't you dare bugging him with any smart questions. Just be your usual self, okay?"
"Boobs, smile, and birdlike brain? Okay."
My awkward attempt at being ironic is wasted on him.
"Glad you've got the point. Yes, your usual self. Just a bit more mindful of what's going on, and most importantly, how soon. If your gut tells you something is not quite how it is supposed to be..."
"Like what?"
"Now, girl, haven't they taught you any basic rules of self-protection at school? Like anything. Too many Peacekeepers in one place, or none of them is around when they are supposed to be there. Times of curfew get changed. Water tastes differently. Strange smell. Birds stop singing. Aelius doesn't let go off his wireless even when you two are making out. Am I to write down a list for you, or you'll finally switch on your brain?"
"I hear you," I say dejectedly. No longer hurt. Just a dull pain of foreboding stabbing my chest.
"Now, Gale. This fellow is the only one among you locals who knows his way around. So, in case you smell trouble, stick to him. Let him know as soon as possible. Do whatever it takes."
"That would be a bit hard to do if I am making out with Aelius."
"If you want to stay safe, you'll find the way," he simply says and then falls silent.
"Is that all?" I ask confusedly.
He watches me as if I have disappointed him bitterly.
"Well, obviously, if on your way to safety you manage to take one or two other kids with you, all the more kudos to you. Do not overreact though while trying on the role of heroine."
"Obviously, I am not a heroine," I retort, "Not like your precious Katniss."
"No, not like her," he agrees calmly.
I want to argue on but something stops me. Some gnawing feeling.
"What is it that is going to happen? Please tell me."
"Nothing. Don't bother with that."
"Then, why..."
He rolls his eyes, absent-mindedly fumbles around the desk, spreading his fingers wide as if groping for a bottle of liquor that is not there, of course.
"You promised not to ask questions, didn't you?"
"But how can I... Please, I need to know what to expect."
"I said stop fidgeting me."
Having not found the desirable bottle, Haymitch sighs again in visible frustration and cups my face in his hands, probably as a poor substitute to liquor.
Because it is so sudden, I don't even respond - just sit there like some green-ass and gape at him in the semi-darkness. All the questions I had regarding Aelius and Gale slip out of my mind.
His stubble pricking my chin. The unfamiliar slightly salty taste of his mouth, still with just a faint tinge of stale liquor. At some point, his eyelashes are almost brushing mine. This is not like what they write about in the books that my aunt and Delly enjoy reading. I am not fainting, and the floor is not swaying under my feet. My head is not in the clouds. My heart is still where it is supposed to be, only beating slightly faster. The butterflies do not multiply in my stomach, although it certainly feels nice and warm. Yet, this is not like anything I have experienced with my boys either.
I don't know how long it has been before he lets go off me, and I realize that although my eyes are somehow closed now, I am still sitting there - all soft and fluttery - like a boring peach blossom that has never been touched before. What's the matter with me? No man would like such a fresh girl, and Haymitch in particular.
I have to go for it even though my arms and legs are all jelly-like. I reach out and - pressing myself against his body - try to go down on him. What follows then is even more unexpected than him casually kissing me.
He pulls my hands off his fly and pushes me back to the opposite end of the sofa. That flicker of annoyance, almost anger, in his eyes again.
"Don't be a fool," he says nastily, "I can get plenty of that shit the day after tomorrow in the Capitol."
I start and stare at him uncomprehendingly. I am so lost sitting on this old dusty sofa next to this strange puzzling man. Lost, helpless, and frightened. What have I done wrong yet again? Why do I keep disappointing him?
Oh, I pull myself together all right but my lips are quivering, as I scramble off the sofa and - again - stumble to the door.
He calls after me in a bored voice.
"The bathroom is just across the hall down the corridor."
Once inside the cubicle, I do not turn on the lights and slump against the door. Sobbing. Pain deep down my belly. Mortified. I think that's it. Now for sure he is going to kick me out. Well, after all, what did I expect? My clumsy tricks have never worked with him.
- 2 -
When I am back, Haymitch lays flat on the sofa with his eyes closed and his arms raised high above his head. The light from the battery lantern on the desk dimly silvers his forehead and hair.
His face expression impenetrable, he turns and watches me as I shakily comb my hair through with my fingers. My eyes red and swollen, my nose running but it does not matter anyway. Obviously, I cannot fool him. I can be as clumsy or as ugly as I indeed am. With him, I am more me than ever.
"Are your folks expecting you?"
"They don't know I'm out. Even if they did, they don't really care," I almost bite on my tongue. It sounds so cheap and plaintive, "I guess that's a hint for me to go, right? "
He does not respond. I turn to leave, and yet I still linger twisting the door knob. No will-power. No pride. Nothing but dull self-hatred numbing me from inside.
And then I hear the sofa creaking and his heavy footsteps across the room.
"You might as well stay until morning. The Peacekeepers will take you in so late at night. "
As he leads me back to the sofa, I do not say anything, yet, I cannot help but stare at him questioningly. Is he still angry or frustrated with me?
He reads me right,
"Still worrying over my loose screw?"
We sit next to one another - after a while, my head is on his lap - and for once in a lifetime, I have no words. With my boys, I am always a chatter-box. Asking them about their brothers and sisters, and their hobbies, demanding to tell me a funny story and laughing away even if this story is plain boring... But what should I talk to Haymitch about? What should I ask him? What happened to your family? What did you feel the moment when you became a victor? What is the best way to kill people? Do you still remember what your hobby once was?
So, instead, I begin telling him a bit about myself. About my mum and her dancing in the kitchen. About how I used to dance in the Meadow. About Rote and my daily bickering with my aunt. I even tell him about Grita as I remember her. Plumpish, blond, pinkish white, arrogant and willful. Yet, when I was first brought to their house and cried all night through at the new place, it was not my aunt but Grita who came to hold me and sing me a lullaby. Later on, she used to mock and pinch me, and if I cried again, she slapped me hard across the face. We have never been close anymore, but on the day of the reaping, I came to the Justice Building together with my aunt, uncle, and Rote, and this time, it was her crying and me holding her. I felt I owed her that first embrace.
Haymitch listens - or rather, nods off - without interrupting me except for an occasional "Yeah?", or "Go on" each time when I stop talking thinking he has fallen asleep. There is a strained urgency in his voice. It is as though my chatter pulls him through the night, away from brooding over some darker and more troubling thoughts.
Being so close, I hear his heart beating evenly and his stomach rumbling from time to time. Somehow, even though he does not really listen to me, it feels good just to sit here and to tell him about small casual things like that. Things nobody before has been interested enough to hear about.
Yet, as I talk I can hear the invisible clock ticking away. I cannot get rid of thinking about this upcoming afternoon. 'Haymitch or Peeta, Peeta or Haymitch...' - that's what the clock hammers. It is as if someone punches me repeatedly right in the chest, and at times I can barely breathe. Something is beating, and burning, and pains in there. Some desperate wild thing craving to break through my ribs and tear into pieces anyone who dares to hurt this strange surly man with graying hair, gray eyes and worn-out face.
At some point I simply have to stop talking, move aside, and lay flat on my stomach to muffle this crazy heart of mine. He starts sleepily,
"Whuts gon' on?"
And it takes me all my guts not to scream.
"Just a bit tired and wanted to stretch," I whisper back, " It's nothing."
- 3 -
I doze off. Yet, even in my short sleep I hold on Haymitch so tightly my hand is getting numb. Not to let him slip away into black nothingness.
It is all different in the early morning. Haymitch's face expression seems more withdrawn. Hardly the same person who was with me this night. More like his sarcastic and confident Capitol self I used to see on the big screen.
Still, as he sees me off, I smile wanly and cannot help but say,
"I hope that..."
He does not let me finish,
"Take it easy, girl, it will all end soon one way or another."
As if he were promising something. As if I were the one who is going to be reaped today.
- 4 -
I run back through the still sleeping merchant section. The morning sun is blurry in the cloud of heat and coal dust. My throat is sore, and I feel slightly dizzy. So, I decide against the downspout and batter straight into the door. Fortunately, it is only a very sleepy and bad-tempered Rote who meets me,
"Aren't you a mouthful with your boys? Mom has been asking for you twice. Told her you have some early morning exam at school, so be prepared."
"Oh come on, let me go," I trudge up the stairs. He follows me, hushes at each creak, and continues to grumble,
"Have you forgotten what day is today? Dad will be twice as cross with you."
"I don't give a damn," I reply, "Let me go... I wanna sleep before the reaping."
'Stupid goose," he retorts, "How quickly you calmed down once you know this time nothing threatens your sweet little self."
I kick him in the knee with my heel, and he hisses, tries to slap my behind, and misses.
"Apparently, one hand is not enough for taming a girl," I comment on and close the door of my room right in front of his curious nose.
"So, who is the lucky guy this time? Can I take a wild guess?" he whispers through the keyhole, and I stick out my tongue in his direction.
- 5 -
I am standing there in the square. Squinting my eyes at the stage which is glaringly-white in the midday sun. It is very hot, stuffy, and crowded, but no one complains. No one dares to move at the machine gunpoint. I catch a glimpse of Aelius standing there among other Peacekeepers. I can recognize him even in his mask my now. He turns in my direction, pulls up his mask for a moment, and aims his gun at me. There is no malice in this action though. He mockingly clicks his tongue as if he were a small boy playing a war game. Apparently, this is his idea of being funny. As much as I need to seem a pea-brained doll, I still cannot bring myself to grin back at him. Not right now. Not ever more if Haymitch's name is cast down.
The trio finally appears led down by the guards in between our two rows. They look straight ahead. Without meeting their relatives, friends, and neighbors' eyes. I think that no matter how the Games end, they are already condemned. Not broken. Yet, separated from the rest of the district by something invisible and more powerful than the Peacekeepers' rifles.
I watch pale and silent Katniss who this time does not even bother to hide tears running down her cheeks. I watch Haymitch glancing sideways and giving her an ever so slight nod of... encouragement? Reassurance? Then, his name is called.
I barely have time to dig my nails into my palms not to scream out loud, when my wish comes true and Peeta steps out to volunteer. But of course, I should have expected that he wouldn't want to leave Katniss. As Delly gasps and starts sobbing by my side, a wave of relief passes over me, and my knees almost buckle. For a little while, everything is in the slightly surreal haze. Does it only seem to me, or Miss Trinket indeed weeps under all her make-up? The haze somewhat dissipates as all the people in the square raise their hands in the final good-bye, and Prim's thin hand is the first one to go up. I look at Peeta and Katniss, at slouching Haymitch who slowly steps off the platform, and I whisper so quietly that even Delly cannot hear me,
"I'm so sorry..."
I'm sorry that I have been thinking Katniss arrogant. That I have not been a better friend to Peeta; even now my nearly joyous relief outweighs my guilt of feeling this joy. Most of all I am sorry that I am only a seventeen-year-old know-nothing-care-about-nothing teen who could not find the right words - if there are such - who could not do something... something for the only one of the trio for whom - I am sure - nobody in the district or the Capitol would probably care much if he died on the arena in these Games. Yet, it is him who stays behind, and it is them - two young beautiful star-crossed lovers - who leave today to meet their death.
- 6 -
After the guards pull the crowd and screaming Prim away from the Justice Building, and the tributes, their mentor, and the gold-wigged Capitolite are whisked away to the train station, Aelius catches me by my forearm as I pass by. Pretending he is pulling me aside for disobeying their order to clear out of the square at once, he says quickly,
"I have an evening off the day after tomorrow. Meet me at nine at the corner of the pub next to where the Hob has stood. Got it?"
'Here we go... ' I think dejectedly.
I cannot see his face clearly behind the black and shiny glass of his mask, so it is like talking to a mannequin or a mutt.
Yet, with the strain of the last days gone and Haymitch in relative safety, I am a bit giddy, and not scared anymore.
I go as far as to puff out my cheeks and wink at the Peacekeeper.
"What's the matter? Aren't you afraid your boss will tell you off for messing around with the locals? Aren't you supposed to be a watch-dog to us rather than a f**dog?"
He exhales sharply and pulls off his mask. No doubt to intimidate me further with his glowering face.
I should not have risked such an insolent remark. Especially after Haymitch's warning. My task is to gain Aelius's trust rather than irritate him. Yet, a sudden flash of acute pleasure when seeing him furious makes me tremble, and I feel the smile unwittingly appearing on my face.
For the first time, I am looking Aelius straight in the eye. Noticing his pale and sparse lashes. The freckles on his nose.
He watches me back for a long while. His hand still clasping my forearm. The last merchants and Seam people hurrying by, and the Peacekeepers marching off.
I do not blink and do not look away, even though I am still trembling - I cannot quite tell whether it is fear or anger beating in me. Go on, knock me around. As if I am not used to being whacked.
Aelius blinks first, and then, it is like something clicks inside his head. He grins almost complacently.
"I might be a f**dog," he contents, "I have yet to see what kind of a p**dog you are. Meet you by the pub, love."
With his peculiar little laugh, he lets go off me abruptly, and joins his mates on their way to the Peacekeepers' quarters.
I am standing there with my mouth open thinking that I have just got myself into the worst trouble possible.
"Lia, what did this terrible man want from you?"
It is Delly, sweet loyal Delly all the while staying nearby. Frightened and yet ready to come by my side if the worst comes to worst.
I smile at her.
"Nothing. Guess he was just bored and wanted someone to chat to. Turns out he is an animal-lover."
- 7 -
Late in the evening when everyone in the house is sound asleep, I lock myself in the bathroom and stand in front of the moldy cracked mirror. This time it is not the pale shadows of my parents I am looking for. For the first time, I want to see myself for what I am, or rather, for what they - the Seam boys and the merchant sons; Cray and Aelius, - see in me. Maybe then, I will understand how to make Haymitch see it as well.
I watch myself fixedly, impartially, and scrutinizingly as if it were a stranger in that mirror. Frankly speaking, I am somewhat puzzled. No Madge's blond ringlets. No Katniss's deep grey eyes. No Delly's pink cheeks and red lips. What is it in me that appeals to them all? This straight hair which I could never grow longer than shoulder length. This wide stubborn brow and mouth? This pale face with its pointed chin? Somewhat misshapen nose (thanks to my uncle's educational efforts)? My body does not look too bad but still, it is only okay. Some girls in the district have larger breasts and longer legs.
I sigh, put on my robe, and shuffle back to my room. Haymitch was absolutely right. There is nothing in me that he cannot easily get in the Capitol. Without turning on the light, I find my creaky bed, lay on the covers, and close my eyes. As I do so, in the pitch darkness, the events of this long day and the previous night twirl in my mind. The triumph on Aelius's unmasked face. Tears damaging Ms. Trinket's waterproof make-up. Prim's skinny hand high up in the air saluting her sister who is going to die for the second time. Then, in my semi-slumber, Haymitch's aloof and wasted face emerges over mine. And just as sudden, I feel the warmth in the depth of my body and the waves washing over me again. I arch so that only my shoulder blades and my feet touch the bed cover. It is as if I am no more. I am floating in the air. Receding...
When - with my legs slightly shaky - I stumble back to the bathroom to take a quick shower and squint at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognize the girl who peers back at me. I am still me all right, but I somehow look different. My eyes are larger and darker. My skin seems to be glowing. I know then - that's it. That's what Aelius must have glimpsed in me on the day I was dancing down at the store. That's what old Cray used to cup my butt for. Why then doesn't it work for the only one man who can make me feel those waves over my body? What else can I give him? As I sit on the edge of the bathtub watching the colors slowly fading off my face, the piece of sky in the vent window begins to lighten up, and I think that I may - just may be - have stumbled upon an answer.