CHAPTER 26
Peeta and I are being fitted with microscopic microphones backstage. He's wearing an ombré suit with all the colors of the sunset. I'm sure Peeta loves the nod to his preferential color, but it looks a little ridiculous. I've been stuffed into a skin-tight, nude-colored lace dress. The bodice is unlined and stops mid-sternum so that it leaves little to the imagination. I'm relieved, however, that my hair has been left down in its natural wave. I move my hair anteriorly so that it provides a little more coverage but I can tell by Peeta's ill-concealed glances that it does little for me in the way of modesty. I'm beginning to miss the days of frilly, girlish dresses. Against my prep team's better judgment, I'm in thin, four-inch heels. I can silently and gracefully tiptoe my way across the forest floor in pursuit of game but put me in heels and it throws off my gait entirely. You may as well butter my bare feet and push me onto a wood laminate floor.
"Where did they place your microphone?" Peeta asks. I just shrug in response.
"Here, I'll help you find it," he says, running his hands tantalizingly up and down my frame. The action is somewhere between a loving caress and being frisked for IEDs. I playfully swat at his hands.
"Stop!" I hiss, only half-annoyed. "You don't want to go out on stage with your pants not fitting right, do you?"
"They never do when you're around anyway," he says, wrapping his arms around me. He lightly kisses the helix of my ear but I can feel his hot breath against it. I close my eyes in spite of myself and lean backward into his embrace. He knows exactly how to set me ablaze.
"I can't wait to get out of here and get you out of that dress," he half-whispers into my ear and I find that I have goosebumps.
It's short-lived, however, when I hear a quiet throat-clearing sound.
"Um," Effie says, looking at her glitter-encrusted shoes. "Don't forget, though, you have that charity auction after the interview," she says unapologetically.
Peeta sighs and loosens his hold on me. "I'll be right back," he says, defeated. "I'm going to splash my face with some water." He begins toward the bathrooms.
Effie shuffles after him in her nightmare of a pair of shoes. "Wait! Peeta! You'll ruin your make up! We don't have time—"
Peeta waves away her protest. "Don't worry about it, Effie," and pushes his way through the door.
Effie dejectedly returns to my side, smoothing down some strands of hair that had loosened themselves from the uniform waves."
"You look ravishing, dear," she says. "You're a perfect example of how beauty and finery still have a place in this new world. You've been an example to all of us about how so many things still have a place in the new government. We can accept each other's differences." And then she looks into my eyes with something…new. It's a questioning, approval-seeking gaze that surprises me. It's an expression that punctuates her last statement with an anxiety-ridden question mark.
I concede a small smile and nod my head. This seems to please her. Outwardly, I look so together today. Inwardly, though, I know I'm no example for anybody. Moody, unpredictable, dependent—that's not who they want to see. They, like Effie, want the beautiful Girl on Fire with confidence and power to assure the public that things can change. Things can change and they can be different but still okay, too. My personal experience hasn't exactly followed that model, though.
Peeta returns about five minutes later looking harried and flushed.
"You ok?" I ask him.
"Fine!" he says, shooting me a perturbed glance. I openly laugh at him.
The lights come up on stage and Flickerman appears amid a rush of wild applause. Effie claps her hands excitedly and squishes the three of us together into a sort of huddle hug.
"Okay you two," she squeals, "Shine like the gems you are!"
She pushes us into the wings as Caesar begins his introduction of us. Scenes from the show are recapped during his intro and I'm again reminded of the extreme embarrassment. I can barely make out anyone's faces from the crowd but I see their eyes trained on us with adoration and what I could swear is something expectant and hopeful. And then I get it: Peeta and I are supposed to help be the national glue holding the districts together as we rebuild and try to unify into one nation.
"Please welcome The New Republic's sweethearts, Panem's unofficial prince and princess, the couple on fire: Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen!"
And as if a switch has been flicked on, Peeta and I turn on the smiles and walk on stage, waving. The crowd is wildly cheering and throwing fragrant flowers up on stage at our feet. After I blow a kiss to the nameless faces, I freeze. What am I doing? I grip Peeta's hand tighter until we make it over to the overstuffed couch next to Flickerman.
Once the applause dies down, Caesar says, "Katniss. Peeta. How about a kiss?"
Peeta playfully leans in toward Caesar for a kiss and the crowd laughs, delighted. Caesar pushes him away and laughs good-naturedly.
"No, no, no! Not you, Peeta!" Everyone has a good chuckle and quiets. I lower my head, declining the request for PDA on national television.
"Your show has been a runaway hit. The two of you captured our hearts in the games and have captured our hearts again, rekindling your love after so much hardship. Tell me about what that's been like, Katniss."
"Well," I start. I clear my throat. "It's been…difficult. The nightmares—" Caesar cuts me off.
"Peeta, tell us about the restaurant. Whose idea was that?"
"Haymitch's, I think," Peeta says.
"Oh, that Haymitch is certainly…spontaneous! You never know what you can expect from him!" Caesar says, delighted.
"That's for sure," I mutter. If Caesar hears me, he ignores the comment.
"So. Katniss," He takes his hands in mine. "Tell us about your open struggle with addiction. How has that affected your relationships?"
I say nothing and stare at my hands. My nails are perfectly manicured in a matte nude color. One nail is studded with a diamond. My addiction?
"I'm not...an addict. It just helps me get through the day and takes the edge off. Many Victors self-medicate in some way. We have to do something with our anxiety or we'd probably snap and go on a killing rampage at the slightest provocation."
I feel my stomach drop as I realize that I've given Caesar a perfect transition. Pictures of me beating some of the videographers flash across the screen behind us.
"Tell us about the incident earlier today," he says, clasping his hands beneath his chin.
"I haven't had a dose in a few days," I deadpan, glancing at the photos. The audience laughs.
"These things happen," Caesar says, patting my hand. "But sometimes," he continues, "These things hurt the ones we love." Edited video from the show plays…the scene in the shed with the deer. I didn't think there had been monitoring equipment in there being that the shed was built after Snow had been killed. Haymitch must have authorized the installation.
Peeta bristles.
"I'd never purposefully hurt Katniss," he says.
"Of course not! Of course not! But, is it fair to say that your time with the Rebels and your involvement in the war has left the two of you…broken? Lesser versions of yourselves?" Caesar asks. I'm shocked but, looking at Caesar, I can see that his question is entirely serious.
"W-what do you mean?" I falter.
"Having grown up in a district like Twelve has, as we all know, left you a little less stable and more violent to begin with. In your months of captivity in District 13, away from the Capitol, this must have simply unhinged you, poor things. Without the generous support and guidance of the Capitol, it must have been very difficult for people like you to get along and to be able to exist in the present reality," he explains.
The true prejudice of the Capitol hits me like a ton of bricks. Victors had always been celebrated, dressed up, and paraded around and I had always thought it was to honor their bravery and strength. The truth is that it was no different than dressing up a chimpanzee in finery and clapping each time it smoked a cigar or smiled or did anything remotely humanlike. To them, we aren't as refined or intelligent or cultured. We, those from the higher districts, are somehow less human.
It begins in my stomach and rises up in me like hot acid. My anger spreads its wings like a mockingjay ready for flight.
"People like us?" I spit. "People like us from the districts? Did you even know that people like you abducted Peeta and tortured him? You tortured Johanna, too. Our minds are fragile from the Games. Peeta's wasn't. Peeta only came undone when your Capitol hijacked him."
The members of the audience are looking around at each other with puzzled expressions and talking nervously amongst themselves? I hear the word "hijacked" whispered over and over in questioning tones.
"Hijacked?" Caesar echoes.
"Capitol doctors held me down and injected small doses of trackerjacker venom into the arteries in my neck so it would go straight to my brain. They played altered video and audio to change my memories. They tried to make me a mutt so that I would become a weapon against Katniss," Peeta explains in a calm and even voice, looking straight into the cameras.
Caesar has lost his winning smile and his ability to charmingly improvise just about any lighthearted banter. His face is unreadable.
"Thank you, Katniss and Peeta. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, everyone!" There are a few instances of staggered applause but mostly, the room is paralyzed with silent confusion.
Peeta and I are ushered off stage. Caesar continues as I struggle to hear his closing statements.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the sad reality that we are currently facing. The poor people in the districts are withering under the rule of a District 13-controlled republic. Our own Victors are not being properly cared for. Violence abounds. These people are unfit to care for themselves as evidenced by the now abusive relationship between two former Victors treasured for their undying love for each other."
I can't believe what I'm hearing. I thought things would be different now that the rebellion has ended.
Watch how little things change. I hear Haymitch's voice echo in my head.