Chapter 27: The Placement.
"What do you think you're going to do?" Gale asks, grabbing my hand once Seeder's name is called over the intercom.
The whole day has seem to have come and gone. It feels like just an hour ago Effie was pounding one of her famous lectures about manners on us when Gale "accidently" knocked the sausage out of my hand at breakfast which of course lead to me pouring milk over his eggs. Believe it not he continued to eat the spoiled food even as the escort had her fit before our eyes.
Fortunately we were able to get out of forcing interaction with the other tributes during training and lunch until everyone was crammed into this room. Entitled to await judgment hour.
I shrug, leaning back against the wall, and basking in the feeling of his fingers tracing small patterns across my palm. "I'm not sure yet. It'll come to me though. Like last time."
"What did you do last time? You never told me."
A small smirk plays at my lips as I peek my eyes open. "Shot an arrow at the Gamemakers."
Gale makes a small sound at the back of his throat, opening his mouth to reply but then rethinks. "I should be surprised," he mutters under his breath.
"But you're not," I point out.
"But I'm not. It sounds just like you, Catnip. Stupid and reckless."
"Wow. My whole personality summed up into two words."
"Gale Hawthorne," the woman's robotic voice sounds over the speaker, cutting our conversation short.
My boyfriend stands with a sigh, kissing my forehead. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need it."
"Maybe. But I want it." I watch as he strides out the room, his last words hanging in the air.
The bare room suddenly feels way to open and lonely. Like I'm the last person on earth. Now, I'm just waiting for my chance to disappear into the wind along with everybody else.
"Good luck Gale."
Unknown POV.
The beeping was constant. An annoying, high-pitched sound it is and it's taken the liberty of echoing throughout the whole room.
Monitors upon monitors line the desktops, and the click clacking of the keyboard buttons being pushed is the only noise to be heard…along with that damned beeping.
My fingers grip the back of the leather chair, white knuckles making an appearance. "Is it done?" I ask through gritted teeth.
The genius in front of me doesn't dare stop typing as he calmly answers, "Yes. The placement was already set in motion. It was firmly planted an hour ago, though it could still collapse. Only time will tell to see if it's secure or not."
"We'll know its amount of stability by the time the games start, correct?"
"Yes, of course. Give me a few hours, tops, and you'll know the status."
"Um, question," a gravelly voice interjects through the speaker at the front of the room. "If we know if it's going to be stable or not in a few hours then why did you send me out now when there's a definite chance it could collapse, you know, on top of me?"
Beetee pauses, pushing down on the button at the side of his headset to reply. "Because we didn't have the opportunity then. Plutarch said that's when they're going to start setting out supplies for the cornucopia and do a sweep. Would you rather get caught by the Capitol or have land fall on you?"
"Fair point."
Beetee's eyes begin following the dot's movements on the computer which happens to be the source of the beeping. He pushes down on the button located at the side of his headset once more. "Alright, Finnick," he speaks into the microphone. "You're almost there. Just remember to not touch anything unless I say. Place the packages down, wire the walls, and follow my instructions from there."
"Roger that," the young victor responds.
Not taking my stare off the screen which tracks Finnick's progress I direct my question towards the man sitting in the room next to me. "Where is Heavensbee anyway?"
"Either still collecting the rest of the tribute's training scores, or convincing the rest of the Gamemakers this new area placement in the arena is a good idea. Which he'll succeed of course but you do realize once they agree on the new addition they'll be adding mutts and whatever horrific things they can think of in a span of two days onto it, right? Plutarch won't be able to sway their mind on that one. This could potentially become one of the most dangerous places in the arena. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"100%," I confirm with absolute certainty. "We haven't been reworking the original plan for nothing. Besides, this is the only way we'll be able to save Katniss in her…condition."
"Guys! Guys!" The voice, identified as Finnick Odair, screams through the speaker. "I'm here. I found-"
The line goes dead.
Back To Katniss' POV.
I storm out the room in a vicious blur, stomping my way to the elevator and slamming down on the button inside. My body buzzes with ongoing fury and adrenaline.
I was right. It sure as hell came to me.
"You did what!?" Haymitch roars, pacing the living room floor.
I sigh, sitting back into Gale's chest on the couch, between his legs. "Calm down Haymitch. It was just a spur of the moment thing. Besides, what was the point of showing them skills they already know I have?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe so they won't decide to kill you the second you step into that arena! Mmmm, that's a thought!"
I look to Gale for help but he won't meet my eye. Even he knows what I did was far too reckless even for him. Nevertheless he plants a loving kiss on my head before resting his chin atop my shoulder, and lacing his fingers through mine. "What's done is done," he speaks up. "There's nothing we can do about it."
"That doesn't mean I can't still be pissed!"
I roll my eyes, making a dismissive gesture. "Go ahead Haymitch. Be mad. It still won't change anything."
The mentor glares viciously at me before stomping off, muttering something about 'getting another drink'.
Peeta sighs, scooting over to us on the sofa. "Forget him. He's only just got back a few hours ago from God knows where and he's been grumpy ever since. Let's just forget about your…situation until the actual scores are up. Gale, what did you do?"
He shrugs. "Cursed at them a little. Maybe ranted a bit." A small smile is brought to my lips at that. My mind racing towards all those days in the woods where he would spend hours upon hours verbally granting me a taste inside that complicated mind of his. "That is, after, I fired some arrows and then almost launched a few spears at them using one of those snares the trainer suggested."
Peeta stares open mouthed at us. "You threw spears at the Gamemakers?" he asks slowly, as if trying to grasp the concept.
"Yeah, well, I had a bit of inspiration."
I beam slightly in amusement, recalling back to earlier today when I told the hunter I shot at the Capitol's people last year as my skill. "Did you hit any of them?"
"No. There was some sort of force field up. Probably because of you."
"Probably."
The sharp clap of Effie Trinket makes us all jump and I look to see her entering the room with giddiness in every step, a wide smile plastered across orange thin lips. "The scores are about to air! The scores are about to air!" she chants, hurriedly turning the television on as she plops herself down next to us. "Haymitch! Haymitch…Hay-"
"I'm coming. No need to yell." Our mentor returns moments later, a sizable bottle of liquor griped between his fingers. As Caesar Filckerman appears on the screen, giving the usual greeting, Haymitch address Gale and I. "Good news you two. Just talked to some of the victors and more than half of them want you as allies. What did you do? Woo them with your dry humor and impress them with your ability to remain anti-social all the while silently hating everyone?"
"Nope," Gale replies breezily. "Just talked shit about you. That seemed to do the trick."
Haymitch scowls at his words but doesn't take any action against it.
The scores go by without many surprises. All were to be expected. The strongest getting the highest, the weakest getting the lowest. It was nothing new.
But before we know it my boyfriend's handsome face is rounding up to the screen. "Gale Hawthorne! With a score of-" Caesar makes an almost unnecessary pause, purely for dramatic effect. Gale's hand tightens in mine and I give it a little squeeze in reassurance. "10!"
Effie makes a gasping noise from the back of her throat in excitement, immediately launching into enthusiasms about how fantastic we are and that she always knew Gale had it in him. Peeta offers a strained smile while Haymitch doesn't seem fazed by the slightest, remarking, "Oh, look. You pissed them off just the right amount."
Then again-at my mentor's words-I remember it may not all be based on who's the strongest gets the highest score. It sometimes depends on who's the most rebellious and who's bold enough to show it. An immediate smile blooms over my face anyway and I turn to him, pecking Gale on the cheek. "I told you, you didn't need my luck."
When I turn back to the screen my picture is coming into view. "Katniss Everdeen! With a score of-" There comes, once again, that annoying theatrical pause. "12!"
Unlike last time Effie turns silent at my number, the first 12 in history.
"Holy shit," Gale swears, his lips brushing the tip of my ear from where he holds me from behind.
"Holy shit indeed."
"Now that, ladies and gentlemen," Haymitch starts. "Is how you piss them off too much." He raises his drink at me. "Good job sweetheart. You've become an instant target."
