Chapter 11: Another District Square Viewing
Early the next morning, my family and I head for the Square to begin viewing of the Quarter Quell coverage. After being given permission by President Snow himself to mentor the District 12 Victors, I am given a place of honor at the front of the gathering crowd, at an ornate table piled high with binders on past Games, videotapes on past Victors. As we watch the Reaped Victors get off the train, I begin to take copious notes.
In the history of the Games, there have been 74 Victors. 59 are still alive. And now, 23 of them will be killed just for fun.
Like last year, only a few really stand out in my mind. There's the classically beautiful twins from District 1 who won consecutive years when Katniss and I were still small children. The male from District 2, Brutus, is worth two Catos, is at least 40, and still in remarkable shape. He apparently volunteered eagerly for the arena. Finnick Odair, the devilishly handsome male from District 4 who won only a decade ago. He is holding the hand of his district partner, a woman who looks to be in her 80s. She had to have triumphed in one of the very first Games, before even Duke Vedaldi. Johanna Mason, the only woman from 7 who won the crown only a few years before Katniss when she pretended to be a weakling. The male from District 9, Daniel Bernhardt, is an imposing peer of Brutus and Haymitch and apparently an accomplished wrestler. Chaff, the man from 11, lost a hand in the Games he won three decades ago, but looks like he could still hold his own in a fight. Finally, my lover and Haymitch are met with resounding cheers.
As before, I try to sort who is a threat and not a threat to Katniss. All the Careers except for Mags, certainly. Johanna Mason. Bernhardt. And OK, maybe Chaff. Add my tributes, and there are really only about 10 legitimate contenders. The rest are so old or wasted by drugs and drink that I just can't see them making it past the first day. And some not even the Bloodbath.
I work throughout the day, placing calls to Effie Trinket so she can give me an inside scoop of what's really going on. I go back through the binders of the Reaped tributes one at a time, annotating the hell out of the margins. I re-check my notes. As I go along, I pretty much tune out all the talking heads coverage by Caesar and Claudius; only the occasional dropping of Haymitch or Katniss's names makes me glance up. And they are being floated more than I imagined; a recent poll of the Capitol citizenry to predict who would be the winner of the Quell showed the District 12 champions amongst the favorites. I don't know whether that makes me feel better, or more terrified.
I jump suddenly when I feel a hand deposit a cool drink beside me. I look up to see my father smiling sympathetically. I had almost not been aware of the heat or even hour of the day.
That night is the Tributes' Parade through the City Circle. The flames theme by Katniss and Gale last year must have made quite an impression, for most of the other districts have now tried to copy it. This oddly annoys me, even more so considering how spectacularly some of the attempts fail to impress. The District 10 Victors look like they are going to broil themselves with their flaming belts. Not a good look, especially since District 10 is known chiefly for its livestock.
I suppose this is why Katniss and Haymitch come out with the flames licking at the accents of their clothes, a masterful touch by Cinna. Katniss told me all about him when she returned last year. Haymitch sports a crown with the words QUARTER QUELL VICTOR emblazoned across the top. I wonder if Indigo Weaver would have been given one of those, if he were still alive. President Snow makes his speech, and even on the camera's wide shots, it unnerves me to think that he is looking directly at my tributes. Then, the Victors are whisked away into the Tribute Training Center. Coverage ends for the night, and District 12 is ordered to bed.
The next three days do not require mandatory viewing, since the tributes are in training. But that does not mean I am off the hook.
During those days, I take over my mother's office in the back, where she usually tallies the account books. I work the phones, acquainting myself with sponsors. I am heartened that the outlying District intrigues many; everyone adores Katniss, and there is genuine fascination over the legend of Haymitch Abernathy. Though some view Haymitch as merely a sentimental favorite, the reception and even willingness to help is overwhelmingly positive. I don't delude myself, though. My Victors will be competing with the likes of the Careers and maybe two or three others for cash and gifts. Plus, the line is sometimes busy, so I resort to calling Effie Trinket and using her as my eyes and ears. Come Game time, she may have to make some appeals for sponsorship directly; my ears are starting to hurt from holding up the receiver. But I am confident she can manage.
In the evenings, some brief coverage occurs, but with the tributes largely sequestered from the media, there isn't much to tell. The entertainment mostly consists of mentoring Victors being interviewed about their protégé's chances, interspersed with re-run clips from past Games.
Finally, on the evening of the third night, Caesar Flickerman presents the Training Scores. 9s and 10s for Johanna Mason and the Careers, Brutus actually nets an 11. Low to medium for the rest.
When Katniss and Haymitch are called, they make history. Both garner perfect scores of 12 – the first tributes ever to do so.
I am panicking. With scores like that, they will be at the tippy top of the other tributes' Most Wanted List. What did they do to sway the Gamemakers so? Thinking back to how subdued Effie sounded on our call earlier this afternoon after their private sessions, I get the feeling it wasn't good.
How am I going to do this? How? I have to get one of them out in an arena full of Haymitch's old friends, against mentors who have actually won a Hunger Games and with years of experience. And I'll probably fail.
The following night is the interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Interviews most years can become very boring very quickly, what with 24 kids going on right after the other. But this year, filled with national celebrities, it is quite interesting.
And it is even more interesting based on what is said.
Right away, I find myself reading into the Victors' answers – and quickly realize they are criticizing being forced into the arena for a second time. They just do it in a subtle, clever way. Cashmere, the female twin from 1, blubbers like a baby over losing her fans. The bespectacled man from 3 questions the legality of the Quell with nerdy jargon. Finnick Odair recites a poem to his one true love – and about a hundred women in the audience faint because they are sure he means them. Johanna Mason is the only one who makes her displeasure explicit, literally cussing the audience out. I have never heard so many BLEEPS in a row before. Oh, they are a few throwbacks and lackeys, like Brutus, Enobaria and the Bernhardt guy from 9, who are just here for another Games. But the majority come out fighting so gallantly that they gradually weather down on the audience's rapidly fraying emotions.
By the time Katniss appears, in a beautiful white dress, the audience is an absolute wreck. A riot practically ensues. And it only gets weirder from there.
I nearly topple out of my desk chair when Caesar begins questioning Katniss about me, based on Gale's curious last words in the final moments of the previous Games. But it is Katniss's reply that stuns me into silence.
"I have something to say. Gale outed someone's feelings for me last year. I just want to say to that person: I love you. And if I win, I will marry you."
I can feel the entire District's eyes directly on me. Why would Katniss not use my name? It isn't as though she can protect my identity; Gale already outed me! All the same, I take a special interest in the wood of my desk, even as I feel my insides roaring in triumph: Yes! Yes, Katniss! I will marry you!
Caesar is beside himself. "Oh, wouldn't you just love to cut over to our correspondent in 12 and get a response from Mr. Mellark?" The crowd screams assent, but before Caesar can cede to their wishes, the buzzer sounds.
Haymitch now takes the stage. He and Caesar enjoy a witty back-and-forth. The old drunk echoes a comment from his first interview a quarter-century before – "I figure my odds will be roughly the same." But it's what Haymitch says last, about his chances of winning, that finally makes the audience come unglued:
"I have no intention of winning Caesar. I intend for Katniss to win so her baby can have her father in Mr. Peeta Mellark."
He's at it again. Saying random comments that can leave an entire swath of people befuddled. Even worse that it isn't true. Baby? What baby? There's no baby!
But the Capitol audience doesn't know that. I actually hear calls to stop the Games as Haymitch returns to his seat. Then, the most amazing thing happens. The Victors, who will be mortal enemies in less than twelve hours, join hands in a display of solidarity. The Capitol tries to cut the feed as Caesar screeches to make himself heard, but too late.
All of Panem has seen.
My dreams are filled with bloody horrors and eternal punishment that night…..