Chapter 10

Try to Win for Me

Johanna

I know I'm going back – there's no question about it, considering I'm the only female victor from District 7 whose still alive – there was an old female victor from 7 in the early years, but she's long gone.

I work on getting myself back in shape along with Blight – he's agreed he'll volunteer if he's not drawn, since the odds of Axel not being stoned during the Games are about the same odds as me getting hit by lightning twice and then getting hit with a gold meteor and Marty's way too old to be swinging axes – all though Spruce said he was still pretty spry when he chased him off his property. We climb trees and practice swinging axes and hammers and discuss our strategy. We've both been in on the Rebellion for months now – we know there's a possibility the rebels will come get us. We also know that it's by no means a guarantee and given how heavy security is going to be, it seems unlikely. We have our plan B – we save Primrose Everdeen, at cost of our lives if need be. The rebels want to use saving Primrose as a highlight for the rebellion – they want to show all of us willing to make Katniss' sacrifice mean something.

Marty is in on it too – he has all kinds of ideas for strategies. First he wanted to dredge up the old rumors about me and Blight and try to capture the magic of the District 12 lovers last year, but now he's stuck on the idea of tapping into Spruce Banner's martyrdom by claiming we were lovers. I'm young enough it wouldn't be that scandalous, and he thinks it'll make me seem … more wholesome, I guess, just by association with Saint Spruce.

There's riots again – Blight and Marty both stayed at my cabin so they didn't have to wade through the riots to get up here for training and planning. I sip black coffee and think of the one I saw when I went into town the other day. Most of them came empty-handed except for an ax and were content to wreck things at the Hall of Justice – but one of them had a huge sign. It was a painting of Spruce – a very good likeness of his face – with "Try to win for me," written on it. I should have known that would be the quote.

I might mock how they're making him into a saint – but the thing is I understand why he's become a symbol for 7. He was important to his village and several around it, and a very likeable person. I liked him – I still think about him sometimes. It doesn't hurt that he was a good-looking kid – even if he was too shy to put those looks to use (sometimes I catch myself thinking it was a good thing he was killed, because I think the kind of prostitution they expect from good-looking victors would have destroyed him). He was clearly ready to sacrifice himself for Rue and Stephen when the rebels intervened – a sacrifice necessitated because the Gamemakers blatantly screwed him over. He handled that axe well, even if he only used it once. He's a perfect martyr for us. I hear Rue's the same for 11 – a sweet, cute kid who knew her plants and stayed with her allies even when she could have run, struck down in the prime of life during an attempt to rescue her from a very likely death (and a certainty of being molested if she and Thresh won). I hear Clint's the same in District 10 – a funny, brave rancher who all but admitted to hunting coyotes (which are apparently the bane of their existence over there) and who looked out not just for the girl he was in love with but several others, and who went crazy trying to save his little district partner, killed in a way that rendered his brother's sacrifice all but meaningless. Katniss is the martyr for District 12 – a brave volunteer trying to save her little sister, whose sacrifice has been made as meaningless as Duke's. I wonder if or when we'll get to the point where they carry signs for all the tributes in all the Districts.

We go out to the woods to practice – even the Capitol doesn't see us here, I don't think. But then again, that's called into question the moment that Hill manages to show up here without any of us hearing her coming. I've just climbed to the top of a fifty-foot pine when I look down to see her. "Lieutenant Hill," I call down to her, annoyed. I wonder what they're going to tell us about the plan now, or not.

"Can you come down please?" she calls back. Well, hello to you too, sunshine.

I'm down the tree as quickly as I can be and still make it look graceful and effortless. I don't want to give Hill the benefit of seeing me making an effort. "Any news on the plan?"
"We're fairly certain we have a distraction for you, and Haymitch has unexpectedly come into some additional aid," she says in the same flat tone she always uses. She even stands professionally – stock still and ramrod straight and with arms at the side.

"Additional aid?" Blight asks.
"I'm not at liberty to elaborate at this time."

"Are you at liberty to do anything?" Marty asks cuttingly.

"Yes – if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take your testimony." That was the first time we noticed she was holding a camera.

"Testimony?"
"About what happened to you after you won. The testimony of many other victors has already been collected. I had hoped we would wait until a better time, but Cressida feels it would be expedient to have the footage ready for immediate airing after the rescue." Or after we're dead if you don't come get us.

"All right – whatever you need," I say, somewhat reluctantly. I'm not sure I want to share my business with the world.

We make ourselves comfortable under the tree I was just climbing, and I give my story first. Hill's cold manner of questioning helps me pretend no one will see this, and the more I talk the easier it gets.