Disclaimer: The Hunger Games isn't mine.
Everything stops for a feast.
There are, however, only so many things to be stopped at dawn on a Sunday morning. The square is crowded to overflowing just as it is on Reaping Day. The Peacekeepers made their rounds nearly an hour ago – banging on doors and issuing threats about what would happen to anyone who didn't make it to the square on time. I had only to ready Vick and Posy – the older boys had been here all night. The mayor was whispering something in his daughter's ear as I guided my little ones toward their brothers. She looked pleased about whatever it was he said before he hurried off to his place on the platform. She had also spent the night in the square – the less than put together appearance and the bleary eyes were a giveaway. I, from what Vick has told me, expected that from her – I didn't expect that her father would look the same.
I had arrived early enough (determined to reach my boys before the crowd blocked them in) that it was easy enough to note that the male section of the baker's family looked the same. It must have been quite the gathering last night – and as Gale shows no signs of having been in a fight, this mix must have coexisted peacefully in their purpose. Interesting. Or it would be if my mind was clear enough to think on it. Gale's opinions of the baker's son are not always complimentary, nor are they usually kept quiet. It's reassuring to know that my volatile oldest has enough sense to refrain from picking unnecessary fights (or at least he does when there are Capital cameras rolling).
As the crowd grew thicker, the children formed their own little wall around Prim that subtly, yet successfully blocked her Capital followers from getting a good view of her face. Vick and Rory stand in front of her. Gale and Madge each take a side. They slipped into place so effortlessly and without any discussion that I presume that this has become their standard practice during their mandatory viewing time slot.
I found myself behind Madge and next to Ari Everdeen worrying over how I was going to shield Posy with our Capital watchers so clearly focused on the knot of us. Posy was, however, not about to spend another time in the square fidgeting in my arms – not when she had Gale to go to. She demanded to be held by her brother, and she got her way. I don't like it.
Even in these days of being watched and separated from my boys while they are at their own viewings, I've had what little comfort I can derive from blocking what I can from Posy. It's hard to cede that responsibility to Gale (even when I know that he will guard her every bit as zealously as I would). I'm left with nothing to do. The crowd has pressed in, and I'm left out of reach of any of my children. It bothers me more than it should. They are right there. I can see them. If I nudged Madge or Ari or Prim a little bit, I could reach them. But, it still feels wrong. This could be very bad today, and I want to be able to comfort my babies. Then, it occurs to me how much trouble that could cause for us all. If I tried to turn Posy's head or bury Vick's or Rory's in my side. If I tried to pull Gale's eyes away from the screen. It's not just somewhat lax Peacekeepers watching us any more. And I vaguely wonder if Gale maneuvered us into this configuration on purpose. I'm supposed to be the mother.
It's making me antsy, and I find my thoughts flitting in a most scattered manner as the violence that always accompanies a feast plays itself out on the screen.
It suddenly occurs to me that the Mayor's daughter has no Capital follower. I don't remember a single person pointing to her instead of Gale when they went looking for the tribute's friends. I wonder briefly how someone in such a position of prominence can manage to be so invisible.
Ari Everdeen is muttering under her breath seemingly everything she has every learned about healing. There is a steady stream of suggestions for all of the minor injuries that are shown as the screen jumps from tribute to tribute where they wait for the altercation to begin. She mentions options for the boy's leg, talks about malnourishment in reference to the girl from 5. Anything and everything except for her daughter on the screen or the one standing in front of her. She's not paying the least bit of attention to either of them, and I find myself understanding why my own children have been so adamant about keeping Prim company during the Games.
I wince as the girl from 2 has Katniss pinned to the ground. Posy is crying and asking Gale to make her stop, and it's killing me that there is nothing that I can do for either of them. Vick has leaned back against Madge, and her arm is wrapped over his shoulder hugging him to her - that should be me. My eyes flit over Prim's hand holding tightly on to Madge's and focus on the other that Rory has reached back to hold. He doesn't look back at her. He's focused on the screen being stoic in imitation of his older brother.
And Katniss is running away with blood dripping from her head because the boy from 11 decided he owed her a debt. And the boy from 2, one of the Careers that we always write off as heartless, has stopped playing their Game altogether. He isn't pressing his advantage over the injured Katniss or fighting the boy from 11 who took his supplies. He's holding the girl that was his District partner – rocking back and forth and begging her not to leave him even after she's already gone.
They dismiss us as the screen jumps from person to person as if it can't determine where it is safe to settle. They have to show something, but what can they focus on? There's someone not following their rules nearly everywhere that they turn. The crowd doesn't seem to want to move. The majority of the people in the District are still watching the screens. Whether it's to see if Katniss makes it back okay or because of the massive shift in the tone of the Games that we've all just witnessed, it's hard to say. But it's making the Peacekeepers nervous. And nervous Peacekeepers issue threats.