CHAPTER TEN
FOXFACE
At the beginning of my Victory Tour, I sit on the train facing both Cordelia and Septima. They summoned me for a 'team meeting' and I could not be more terrified.
Cordelia explains with a haphazard wave of her hand. "They will, of course, be filming your reunion. It needs to be perfect. Septima is my Capitol example of our target audience, mostly no offense."
"Mostly none taken," chimes my stylist, grinning with her pearly white teeth.
Cordelia begins, "Okay, when you see Clove you are going to…?"
"Kiss her?" I squeak, already panicked.
"No!" snaps Cordelia and I flinch. Septima glares at my mentor for it. "You are going to run to her and jump into her arms and then kiss her." She turns to my stylist. "Sounds good?"
Septima sharply nods. "Very romantic."
I nervously ask, "What if she doesn't catch me?"
"She will catch you," says Cordelia, rolling her eyes. "Just run from far enough away that she'll have time to figure it out and react. Alright, Septima, should she entirely ignore the cameras or mention the viewers?"
"Mention the viewers," says Septima. "We all want to be a part of your love story."
We go on like this for some time, mostly practicing my facial expressions.
If I was not already afraid, I certainly am now.
[X]
Once the train stops, I look out of the window and see a humongous crowd at the train station. I know that Clove will be very close, presumably in the ideal position for all of these people to look at us. I hate it when anyone notices me, much less the entirety of Panem.
I walk outside, escorted by two silent peacekeepers. As I suspected, Clove stands between Enobaria and Brutus, waiting for me.
As soon as I catch sight of her, I run as slowly as I can stand to, hoping desperately that Clove will catch on and catch me. She stares at me and I take a huge breath before I jump. She easily catches me and spins me around, our lips grazing coldly against each other. When she sets me down, I brush stray locks of hair from my face and turn to the cameras and crowd.
"Sorry. We forgot about you guys for a moment," I say, faintly smiling.
People politely laugh. I doubt we would get such a fanatic reception in Five, or any district other than One or Two. Everyone seems to be from here, and everyone seems to view us as celebrities just as much as the Capitol does. How could Clove be so callous in response to that ice cream man when her own district sees her the same way?
"What do you have to say to your true love," croons Clove's escort, whom I believe to be named Satin Athens, or something along those lines.
"Clove," hisses Enobaria, discreetly nudging her mentee, "say something romantic."
My fiancée looks up at me and blurts out, "Was your daddy a baker? Because those buns are hot," and I start laughing. I cannot help it. The crowd, again, laughs with us.
We all want to be a part of your love story.
A love story that is a lie.
[X]
The camera crews get countless outdoor shots of Clove and I kissing and savoring our reunion over the backdrop of District 2. I recognize much of it from many Victory Tours in the past; her district wins more than all the others put together. We at last board the train and begin the several-day journey to District Twelve.
Of course we must start in the place I dread most of all. I will have to face those who deserved a victor. Who deserved Katniss Everdeen but received me instead.
That night, I toss and turn and finally get up to go find Clove. I do not know why I would seek someone so callous for comfort, but she is the only person who can understand exactly what I am going through. I knock on her door and she does not wake, therefore I creep inside and approach her bed. The moment I touch her arm, I fall down onto the floor avoiding a knife jabbing at my face.
I gasp out, "Why do you sleep with a knife?"
Clove hisses, "Why are you so sneaky?"
Licking my lips, I push myself to my feet.
"I… I was scared." My cheeks heat up and I feel grateful for the darkness.
"You can stay in here if you need to," says Clove. "Me and my knife can protect you from the monsters and spiders and nightmares."
"Do you have them too?" I blurt out.
Clove waits too long to respond, belying her next words. "No."
I lie down beside her. We do not touch and I wonder why. Of course this would keep me up in exchange for my memories of Katniss Everdeen in the other room.
"Do you sleep this far apart from Enobaria?" I ask, hating myself for saying anything.
"No. We… sleep pretty close together, but I figured you wanted space," says Clove, and I wonder if she wants that space too.
"Our wedding, huh?" I stammer softly.
Clove hums under her breath and says, "Yeah. It isn't far away. We just make it through this tour and… we're married. I don't know what to think of it."
"Do you ever think about our wedding night? Because—because this just makes me think about our wedding night." Foot, meet mouth.
Clove laughs and I want to crawl under the bed to hide, my cheeks hotter than the sun. "Not really, actually. Are you worried about it?"
"Yes," I whisper, almost squeaking the word. "Do you… have…" I lower my voice to an even quieter whisper, "sex," and I raise it again to say, "with Enobaria?"
Clove snorts and bursts into laughter again. She gives that slight shrug and the cocky roll of her eyes that I once upon a time in a fight to the death fell in love with.
"Yeah. So?" Pause. "We obviously don't have to do anything if you don't want to. Just because I'm sleeping with Enobaria doesn't mean that I want that from you."
"Oh." I hate that answer for some reason. "So, you'd rather have sex with her."
"That isn't what I meant," Clove says exasperatedly. "I meant that you're kind of pure and sweet and I'm not either of those things. We don't… we don't want to get married yet. And if you don't want to have sex since you can't even seem to say it out loud, we don't have to."
"I mean, we can have," and I cannot stop myself from whispering, "sex."
"I want to say that what we had in the Arena was real, but the Arena wasn't real. It wasn't. Everything in there is so separate from the world that I can't even put it into words. I think our feelings and attraction were both real and I think we just need to figure out why."
"We need to figure out why people rooted for us so strongly that Seneca Crane broke the law. Then we can play on that until we're in the Capitol, alone in a house, and able to sort through this stuff. We don't have that option right now."
"Hey. I don't care if we never figure it out. We wanted each other bad and that's cool but the whole point of this conversation is that we don't need to have sex until we're both ready."
"How did you and Enobaria fall in love?"
"By accident," Clove says. "Like everybody else who's ever been in love. She was my hero growing up and she chose me to be in her tribute class. I wanted her and I guess she wanted me too because on a rugged camping trip for exposure training she invited me into her tent to get out of the cold rain and it, uh, it spiraled."
"I never loved anybody."
"Why not? You're extremely hot," says Clove softly.
"I had a little brother to take care of so I never thought about it too much, and I'm usually not noticed by people in general. You're the first person who ever kissed me." I feel like a fool. This girl was probably thinking about the one she really wanted, the one who had sex with her, while I thought she wanted me.
"We don't get anywhere talking about this. We never do," says Clove. "I don't think we can explain this away or understand it so I think we should shut up and kiss on cue and get through this tour so that we can figure it out on our honeymoon."
I smile at the ceiling and feel my eyelids drooping at long last.
"I'll, uh, I'll go back to my room now." I am too afraid to sleep beside her.
I want to slap her for some reason, but I never could be that bold in my wildest dreams. So I let her kiss my cheek and begin ruminating about Katniss Everdeen again as I rise from her bed and start roaming the hallways.
My thoughts drift from Katniss and Rue again when I start imagining Clove and Enobaria making out and punch the train window.
I only succeed in injuring my knuckles; the window escapes unscathed.
[X]
District Twelve looks grim, even compared to District Five. I glance around at the trainyard meant for hauling coal and then step out onto the dilapidated station. My entourage and fiancée follow and we stride through the district, towards what the mayor mentions as being the Justice Building.
A slender blonde girl about my age walks beside Mayor Undersee. She keeps shooting glances at me that make my heart race. What does she want? Why does she keep looking at me like that?
We greet a crowd forced to pretend to be happy to see us and walk up onto the stage.
Clove decides to talk about Peeta Mellark. She also decides I should talk about Katniss Everdeen. I am terrified as we walk onto the stage in the decaying district, in a grim Town Square.
A blonde girl walks forward with flowers and a plaque, the traditional gifts victors receive from the vanquished districts. She is introduced as the mayor's daughter, Madge Undersee.
"Katniss Everdeen was my best friend," she whispers as she hands me the ceremonial bouquet. "You did right by her."
I do not agree. My lips part but I have no words, so I just nod and turn to the podium. Clove already stands at it, gazing out at the crowd. I look at the families on their designated part of the stage. First, I see a family of blond boys with blue eyes and matching parents. The father looks sad, the brothers angry, the mother bitter. I then force myself to look at the tiny girl beside a sallow, tired mother. They both are as blonde as Peeta's family. Prim. Primrose. A mother Katniss never spoke of. I feel a rush of guilt when I see them.
Clove takes a deep breath and begins to speak. "I killed Peeta Mellark," she says, which I do not think is the best way to start this off. "But even if he died so early, he was brave. His announcement at the interviews was one of the bravest things I have ever seen. I think he laid the groundwork for me and Fo—Solanine—to win together. I thank him for that."
She sounds so calm, so confident. Then she turns to me and gestures at the microphone. I wobble on my feet as I walk to it.
"K-Katniss Everdeen… Katniss Everdeen…" I am horrified. Speaking. I should not have agreed to Clove's insistence. My fingers trembling, I drop the cards and they float to the floor. "Katniss Everdeen haunts my dreams every night. I think about her and her strength and her love that was more… stronger than mine. She was strong. She protected me when I needed help and she didn't ever leave me when I was hurt. She gave Rue the funeral she… the funeral she deserved but I mean they all deserved funerals but I… I couldn't save her from that sword. I should've saved her. I'm a coward who hid in the shadows when the deserving victor needed help. I'm selfish. I'm selfish and she was selfless. I'm a coward and she was brave. I needed protection and she protected others. She saved me and I didn't save her. I failed… I failed…" I gasp for breath, panicking. But I try to speak up. "I've failed so many people in my life but it hurts most that I failed her, and she should be at this podium right now, not me. I'm sorry."
I step down and turn to Primrose Everdeen, I walk to her and hand her the flowers. I pull her into my shaking arms and hug her.
And I whisper in her ear, "If you ever need anything, I'm here. I promised to keep you safe and that's the best I can do for your sister."
Tears drip from her big blue eyes. The moment I break the embrace and step back towards the podium, I see a tall boy with dark hair and the same complexion of Katniss Everdeen staring at me with smoldering eyes. He touches three fingers to his lips and raises them to the sky.
Peacekeepers respond quickly, but not quickly enough. This tired and bleak district seems as unified as they did on the recap of the Reapings when they imitate his gesture. That is when the peacekeepers—the Capitol ones who accompanied me and Clove—step into the gathering and grab the boy, dragging him away.
"GALE!" screams Primrose Everdeen as her mother grabs her and holds her tightly.
A man punches one of the peacekeepers that has the boy in his grasp. The riot begins.
I am in the steely grasp of Enobaria Whitethorn before I can react to the scene, as she drags me into the Justice Building. Madge Undersee stands, staring out of the dirty window with a hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes widened. Her father grips her shoulder. Haymitch Abernathy stands near them.
Once the door shuts, Cordelia tries to pull me away from the window but I look out and do more than hear the gunshots. Two bullets into the back of the agitator's head. Tears begin to swell in my eyes and Enobaria's grip tightens on me.
"This way," orders Haymitch Abernathy and Cordelia ushers me and Clove along with him. He leads us up into the private quarters of the mayor, down the hall, and up into an attic. I imagine he must have been here before, and perhaps considers it safe.
I hope so, at least.
Now that I am up close with Haymitch Abernathy for the first time, I notice he smells like a distillery and I slightly recoil with my nose wrinkled.
"You've really done it, sweetheart," he says to me, then turns to my cross mentor. "Delia, you're smarter than this. The—the us—made decisions that didn't involve whatever that was."
"I gave her cards to follow," growls my mentor. Enobaria bares her teeth. Clove takes a few steps forward and clenches her fists for a fight. "It isn't our fault that your tribute started this!"
"Everdeen was supposed to be something that shy little princess over here never can be," Haymitch slurs, glaring through his dazed eyes. "At least Everdeen does it in death, but taunting the Capitol isn't going to keep you alive and running long enough to…"
Cordelia gives Haymitch a look that shuts him up. He clenches his jaw and sloppily nods.
I dare to say what lurks in my mind. "I'd die for doing the right thing and saying the truth for once instead of the lies on the cards was the right—"
Enobaria startles me by being the one to speak. She interrupts, "There is a thin line between a martyr and a fool, Solanine Jones."
"And now you have Gale Hawthorne's life on your head," says Haymitch. "Kid was a fool, not a martyr, but you better keep the dead in mind before you do something reckless again, sweetheart."
My heart begins to race but my skin feels colder. The knot in my stomach makes me think I might vomit all over the lovely but dusty upholstery.
"Leave her alone," snaps Clove, stepping into the dim light and standing between me and Haymitch Abernathy. "You've got no business criticizing her when you showed up wasted. No business criticizing her when she did a lotta right by your tribute. You have a bone to pick, pick it with me. I'm the one who screwed over your love story by killing that quaint little blond boy of yours."
"For what's it's worth, the boy did love her. It wasn't an act for him." Haymitch looks at Clove and Enobaria and I do too. I see how they rotate together, swirling around the same sun and stealing glances that I know I never will get from Clove. Haymitch continues, "But that doesn't matter now. They're dead, like you two'll be dead if you keep being morons."
"Why do you care if we live?" Clove spits.
"Keep your nose out of where it don't belong, sweetheart," slurs Haymitch Abernathy, and he begins to walk away, adding a stagger to his step that I cannot help but notice.
"Sol, I promised Snow I—" Clove begins and Haymitch turns around, walking back to us. "I promised him that I would keep you from doing something like that."
Terror strikes me. I think I might faint. President Snow could kill me, kill Fission, do something just as bad as both of those things. My head spins as I war with my tongue to find the right words.
"How could you not tell me that?" I whisper, unable to sound as angry as I am.
Clove so shamelessly admits, "I didn't think you had the guts to defy anybody."
"She had enough guts to do it at the end of the Games," interjects Haymitch Abernathy. "Did he threaten anybody?"
Fission. I did not stop to think about him.
"No. I don't want a rebellion. I don't want a war. I don't want any of that," Clove vehemently says, and I believe her.
"My brother…" I feel sick. "What about my brother? I have to protect him."
"We all got people to protect," says Haymitch, guising his astute comment with a belch. "For such a smart girl you're real stupid."
"You have someone?" I ask, knowing talking to Haymitch is pointless but unable to suppress my curiosity.
"You gotta a hearing problem, Sola—Sola—Foxy?"
Another person who does not truly know my name. Clove certainly gave me a nickname that will stick for life.
"You do then," I whisper.
"I don't see why the fuck it matters," Haymitch slurs, slumping in his seat. "You got a brother, huh?"
"Fission."
Haymitch asks, "He Reaping age?"
"This year he turns twelve," I say.
Haymitch states, "Yeah. The odds aren't in his favor. I dunno what Clove's got but it's probably somethin'. You two are fucked."
"I appreciate your candor," I whisper and Haymitch uproariously laughs.
"Appreciate my candor," he repeats sardonically, shaking his head.
I focus on trying not to faint, not on his mockery.
He glances at Cordelia once before he stumbles down the stairs, giving a grandiose display of drunkenness.
CLOVE
After we at last board the train, escaping District Twelve, I walk towards Enobaria's compartment, but she smashes her palm against my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.
"Go comfort your fiancée. She needs you right now. I don't."
I want to say how much I need someone right now, but I turn around. In my and Foxy's relationship, I am the strong one and I know I need to suck up my own fears to take care of hers. I have no problem with it, even if I am not used to consoling people.
She sits in the dining car, staring at the floor.
"Hey," I say. "Are you, uh, doing alright, champ?"
I want to slap myself. I just called my fiancée champ.
When she looks up, I see her crying and want to abort the mission, but I steel myself and step towards her.
"I didn't say those things to start a war. I said them to try to feel less guilty."
"You don't need to feel guilty," I state in earnest. "I saw Twelve's death in the recap. Glimmer took you both by surprise and even you were able to kill her then, Twelve still would have died of her injuries. There was nothing different you could've done."
"I hid!" she shouts. I am floored by how loudly she spoke. "I hid in the shadows when I should've fought! And you know what I did after she died? I filled my pockets with poison and went to find somebody else to protect me!"
Before I can think of a decent reply, she begins to hyperventilate. She clamps her hand over her mouth and shakes with the sobs and gasps for breath.
I scream, "SHEPHERD!" because I have no idea what else to do. "SHEPHERD, SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH FOXY!"
The half-drunk victor stumbles into the room.
"She's having a panic attack, you insensitive dumbass! Which," Shepherd says as she walks to Foxy and starts rubbing circles on her back, "is not that surprising, considering the fact that you kept your conversation with Snow secret and then dropped it on her at the worst possible time! Go get her some water!"
I huff and gesture at the pitcher resting on a mahogany surface. "There's water on the table."
Shepherd snarls, "Go! Get! Her! Some! Water!"
I sigh, roll my eyes and leave the room. As soon as I reach the corridor, I hear Shepherd speaking in a soothing tone, trying to talk Foxy down. If I knew how to do that, I would have done it, but no one ever taught me how.
While I fantasize about various ways to kill Cordelia Shepherd, I stop paying attention to where I am walking. Subsequently, I almost crash into Enobaria, who holds a glass of ice water.
"Give this to your fiancée."
"I can't believe you're okay with being my wingman. Also, how did you know to get that?"
"I heard you and Shepherd screaming at each other. And I know you're unhappy that I'm not having a duel with Foxy for the honor of your hand in marriage, but you can't afford to angst about not having a jealous enough girlfriend when you're caught up in the middle of a war."
"What war? I don't see any battlefields."
"Don't get smart with me. Give your fiancée this water and apologize to her."
"I've never apologized to anybody."
"There's a first time for everything, soldier."
When she calls me that, I sigh and take the sweating glass. Academy habits die hard and my fear of Enobaria dies harder. I roll my shoulders and try to think of the right words to apologize properly without looking weak.
Upon my reentry to the dining car, I notice that Foxy still looks pale and rattled and tears drip from her puffy eyes, but she seems much calmer. Shepherd sits by her now.
"I'm sorry, Sol," I say, handing her the glass.
She smiles at me through her tears. "Thank you."
I do not get a warm fuzzy or whatever people who apologize usually gain, but I do know it is in my best interest to stay on her good side. Foxy is not an intolerable person and I do still feel a strong sense of obligation towards her, just like I did in the Arena.
"It was," I continue against the strong feeling against it in my gut, "brave of you to say what you did to the people in Twelve. I know you don't ever act impulsively, even if you were acting out of emotion or whatever. You know it was risky but you did it because you thought it was right. So I don't think you're a coward and if anybody ever calls you one, I will personally stab them in the eye."
Foxy smiles a little bit, at least.
I excuse myself and go to punch pillows, missing the training dummies and bags I could take my anger out on back in District Two.
[X]
"I knew Snow was a bad sign," Enobaria says, sighing. "Perhaps I should have asked earlier."
"Whatever." Pause. "He knew about us. He knew about us just like Finnick Odair.
"Snow knows everything about every victor, and Finnick Odair was the only one who could give me decent advice on the matter."
I scoff and roll my eyes. "On wooing ladies or something?"
"Shut up," snaps Enobaria, slipping into her 'trainer' demeanor. "You should know before the Victory Party. Of course, the next day is your wedding so I bet you're the only gorgeous tribute who has nothing to fear there, but... when you win, you don't belong to yourself anymore."
"I'm getting so tired of you talking in riddles."
Enobaria looks as if she mills my words over for a moment. Then, she bluntly but quietly says, "Prostitution. Finnick's many lovers are paying for the pleasure of his company."
"I don't see what that has to do with you," I lie, because I hope I am wrong. She looks at me and does not need to say another word. "You have money. Why do you need to sell yourself?"
"I don't get any of the proceeds," she coldly says. "The glorious Capitol collects that paycheck. President Snow tells me what to do and I do it."
"Why do you stand for that?" I demand, clenching my fists. "You don't let anybody push you around, even powerful people. Why would you—?"
"Out of misplaced loyalty when I was young. I wanted the glory and I thought of it as a side-effect of people adoring and fearing me at the same time. I was wrong, and after I year, I told President Snow I was quitting. He was surprisingly calm about it. He never needed to threaten me since I always was a model victor and still am. He told me it was my choice to quit, but then he told me there would eventually be someone I'd be willing to sacrifice for. Someone who would be the first to make me happy, and he said that if I ever spited him again, that joy the only person I loved gave me would become ashes in my mouth."
"Did you find that someone?"
"You, obviously. We hid it well but I knew we couldn't hide it from him. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse. For the past three years, I've…"
"For me? For me? I'd rather die than you do that for me!"
"You're not great at caring, are you? Not that I want any sympathy or misguided pity. I asked Finnick Odair how he managed to look his girlfriend in the eye when he came home, and he did a decent enough job of helping me out. I still find his company unbearable, but he has his merits."
I am still too shocked and livid to care about Finnick Odair.
"Will they want me too? And Foxy? Foxy couldn't bear something like that. We're strong, but she's not. She'd break like a twig if he sold her to someone! No! I'd break that someone like a twig!"
"You are the adored star-crossed lovers that Panem can't get enough of. I also know you'll be married before the usual starting day. Maybe people will want you, but I bet they want to follow every detail of your love story much more." Enobaria caresses the side of my face. Her sharpened nails feel cold against my heated skin. "Maybe he won't break you two apart."
"Does he know about the ring?" I ask under my breath.
"Yes. I'm sure he knows everything about us. He would've let us get married, as long as we kept it private and none of my clients found out. But it was still foolish for me to give you that engagement ring."
I passionately say, "I was going to marry you in a Victor's Crown studded with diamonds, and we would train tributes together and we would swim in the quarry and I would build you a pagoda that you would hate and never use…"
Enobaria slaps me across the face and, if I had less training, I think I would have toppled onto the floor.
"Dreams like that are for children," she spits, fangs bared and eyes smoldering. "And I should've snuffed them out earlier."
I stare after her until the train suddenly halts.
Frenzy flooding my body, I jump up and run to find Foxy. If hijackers attacked this train she would be the first to go down. Shepherd and Enobaria are tough. My fiancée is not.
"Why did we stop?" I demand of Satin Athens.
"Maintenance," Satin sweetly says, batting her clearly false eyelashes.
"That's the official story?"
"Yes," Satin replies.
I say, "Only an idiot believes the official story," and continue my search for Foxy.
When I locate her, she still sits in the dining car with Cordelia.
"Shepherd, what's wrong with the train?"
"We're not in a state to make a viewer-friendly appearance in Eleven. The train is down for overnight maintenance."
"Oh," I say.
Foxy's stylist—whose name escapes me—looks up.
"Valentina and I decided this would be a prime opportunity to give you two dancing lessons."
I grimace and try not to scream.
[X]
Satin Athens puts a record on a record player. It must be some old song I have never heard before, since they presumably have an endless selection of music in the Capitol. The record plays a haunting melody with smooth but gravelly vocals that gives me goosebumps. It sounds creepy, but I step forward and go through the agonizing lessons. At least it distracts Foxy.
We pair up and our respective district escorts begin to show us several different dances. Foxy keeps stepping on my feet and I keep stifling laughter until we finally catch on and start to show some promise before our wedding comes.
As we spin, I end up softly singing the lyrics to keep my steps in line.
"I don't want to set the world on fire," I murmur in tune, "I just want to start a flame in your heart."
Foxy notices and smirks. I have half a mind to throw her out of the window.
"In my heart I have but one desire," she breathes, her hot breath tickling my neck. "And that one is you. No other will do."
I cannot help but continue, "I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim; I just want to be the one you love. And with your admission, that you feel the same, I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of. Believe me…"
Foxy finishes under her breath, "I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart."
The record stops and Satin Athens croons, "Clove! You have a lovely singing voice!"
My eyes flash and my lips contort into a snarl. How dare she disrespect me like that. Does she not fear my wrath as she should?
"I wasn't singing, Satin," I growl, making it clear that she will meet her doom if she continues this conversation any further.
And, of course, Satin Athens misses the hint by a mile. "Yes. You were. I heard and it was beautiful. Oh, was that your talent? The wedding must have overshadowed it!"
"I wasn't singing." I truly hope my glare will shut her up. "I don't sing. I fight. That's it."
Enobaria seizes the opportunity to mock me by interjecting, "She has a beautiful voice. Maybe she'll sing for all of us tonight."
I grit my teeth and glower at my mentor.
"Katniss sang to Rue," Foxy says, flooring all of us. "When Rue was dying…" Pause. "I don't know the song but it was about meadows and pillows and willows. It was a lullaby. I love lullabies."
I breathe deeply and suppress my strong emotions. When I first went to the Academy, I would softly sing myself to sleep in my cold, unfeeling bunk. The same one and only lullaby I knew, the one my mother sang me constantly. Sometimes it would wander into my head when I had nightmares in the Victor's Village, but I have not sung a word since I was thirteen or fourteen. Today is the first time since then, and I already regret it.
Coldly, I state, "People who pretend a dead person is just asleep are deluding themselves. There is no point to singing an already-decomposing corpse into the void."
Foxy's lip trembles, her eyes glassy, and I force myself to ignore it.
"Oh," she whispers.
I defend myself with, "It's true. Dead is dead. Asleep is asleep. And that girl made a mistake of getting too attached in the Hunger Games."
Shepherd blurts out, "You ever hear of glass houses, Clove?"
"What?"
"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Means that you got into this mess by getting too attached in the Arena."
"Well, I wish I didn't. I wish I was smarter. I wish none of this would have happened and that I had just won alone like I was supposed to."
Foxy runs away crying. I do not blame her.
"Pursue her, soldier," orders Enobaria.
"Yes, sir," I lie, and I wander the corridor, locking myself in a butler's closet until the sun sets.
At last, I think I might be able to sneak off to bed, but I hear her soft sobs in her compartment and drag my feet inside. I see Foxy curled in her bed, her whole body shuddering with overwhelming sobs.
My insides twist and I do not know why.
"Foxy…" I whisper, walking in and sliding the door shut behind me. "I didn't mean what I said. I would do everything again just the same in an instant. I don't regret those berries. It would be easier, though. Don't tell me you never thought about how much easier it'd be if it was just you."
Slowly, Foxy sits up and nods. "I think it sometimes too."
"Things are complicated." I need say no more.
I sit down at the foot of Foxy's bed, still uneasy about what I plan to do in here. It will take a level of bravery that even someone as courageous as myself can barely muster. But I know that it is one thing I can do to erase all I have done to this girl.
It pains me when I ask, "Do you want to hear a lullaby?"
Foxy's eyes glitter in the moonlight as she dreamily whispers, "Yes."
I was hoping she would say no. "I've never sang for anybody before."
Foxy protests, "Enobaria seemed to know."
"She was just trying to piss me off," I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I'd prefer if you kept this a secret. If word gets out, I will destroy you and everything and everyone you love."
"Okay," Foxy whispers. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."
"I only know one lullaby," I say, knowing what an idiot I am for showing anyone this. "It's one of the only things I remember about my mom. She gave me to the Academy when I was seven and I can't even remember what color her eyes were."
"Sing it, please."
My mouth feels dry. I should snap and snarl and run from this, but I look at her wide, scared blue eyes and swallow. The lullaby comes easily to me, even if I try to never lilt a single tune.
"Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, go to sleep my little Foxy.
When you wake, you shall take, all the pretty little horses.
Blacks and bays, dapples and greys.
Coach and six little horses.
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, go to sleep my little Foxy.
When you wake, you shall take all the pretty little horses."
Foxy closes her eyes and faintly smiles. I watch her and wonder why she looks so beautiful in the shadows, and why I am willing to let her hear my voice.
"You have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard," she breathes in a shockingly earnest manner, eyes still shut. "Sing me that when I die, okay?"
"If no one else is around," I reply, half-teasing.
"That's good enough for me," she whispers, her voice trailing off at the end of her sentence.
And she drifts away to dreamworld while I sit awake, a restless sentinel standing vigil over my bride-to-be.