A/N: Hello darlings! Here's the next chapter, and let me tell you, Johanna is the funniest person in the world. In a sick, depressing, twisted sort of way.
Chapter 29: I Must Still be Dreaming
Someone is screaming. The sound fills my ears, and I only know that I need to make it stop. The problem is, I can't see anything except Prim, and she's not the one making the noise.
"Peeta!" she calls, standing far away in the mouth of the Cornucopia. She's wearing the dress she wore at her interview, the ocean one. "You did this to me." As I watch, a dark stain spreads out from her heart.
"I'm sorry!" I say. I can't move, as much as I want to. Something holds my feet in place. "I never wanted any of this to happen!"
"It did happen," Prim says, "and you still haven't kept your promise." She sees that I'm confused. "You haven't made it count yet."
"I will!" I tell her. "I promise, I'll do it!" Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder exactly what it is that I'll have to do.
Prim sways with blood loss. "Soon it'll be too late," she says dizzily. "I'm already gone. This is a war, Peeta. Nobody lives to see the end."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, aghast. Prim crumples to the ground.
My feet are finally freed and I dart forward, dropping to my knees by her small figure. No, no, no… This is too much like what happened before; the only thing missing is my knife. Prim's already dead, I can tell, but no cannon sounds. "Prim! Prim, wake up," I moan, holding on to the smoke-thin hope that she's still alive. There hasn't been a cannon blast.
"Please, don't… I… You can't…"
She can't be dead. She can't be dead.
But she is.
"Breadboy. Up and at 'em."
The cutting voice infiltrates my dream, dragging me away from Prim's body and the Cornucopia and the arena, back to the hovercraft. I open my eyes suddenly, jerking awake. The screaming vanishes. Johanna is standing over me, and I'm lying splayed on the floor.
I was dreaming. It wasn't real.
"Up. We're leaving." Sitting up, I realize that the lights in the hangar are off. And there are other people in the hovercraft now – Haymitch is dropping packs on the floor. Behind him, I can see Katniss watching me. I rub my face to get rid of the sleep and realize that there are tears on my cheeks. Wonderful.
I get to my feet. Plutarch's voice comes from the other room, saying something about being ready to take off. Everyone pops a squat, but I'm too groggy and end up grabbing at the wall as we lift off the ground.
Within seconds we're outside. The Capitol blazes below us, a cluster of lights in yellow, orange, red, green, and blue. I can't see the stars like I would back in District 12; the city is too bright.
Katniss comes up beside me and looks out the window with me. Our flight is smoother now that we're in the air. She watches the ground speed away, the clouds streaming by, lighter purple patches against the night.
"How does it feel to see the sky again?" I ask, my voice cracking a little from the after-affects of my dream.
"Like you wouldn't believe," Katniss says. I'm rewarded by a tiny smile.
"You know, I'm kind of worried about being in District Thirteen, if this happens to you in a month and a half."
"Oh, no. That's the least of your worries." Katniss shakes her head. "You're the face of the rebellion – well, nearly." She doesn't have to tell me who is the face of the rebellion. It's clear from her tone that she means Prim. "You'll be out in the Districts with a camera crew and fancy guns. You might be in Thirteen for a few days at a time, tops."
I open my mouth to ask how she knows this, and she grabs my wrist with an iron grip. "We need to have a talk," she says, and drags me through a door to another room.
We've walked in on something, but I'm not quite sure what. There's a man that I can only describe as beautiful, with bronze hair and green eyes. He doesn't look up when we enter. All of his attention is focused on the lovely young woman by his side who huddles against him, hands clamped over her ears.
Then I remember who these people are. The man is Finnick Odair, a Victor of District 4, which means that the woman must be Annie Cresta, the girl who won two years before he did. With this knowledge comes a kind of horror and guilt, as though I'm spying on something very private, which of course I am. The whole country knows Annie's never been the same since she saw her district partner beheaded. But this frail shape that cringes back against Finnick's arms when the door opens – I wasn't expecting it. She is so lost and irretrievable.
But Finnick is whispering to her, and after a few moments Annie shakily lowers her hands and opens her eyes, which are a strange blue-green color. I remember a few people with eyes like that from my Victory Tour, but I think they were all from District 4.
"I'm sorry, Annie," says Katniss, and there's genuine kindness in her voice. "We didn't know you were in here."
"It's all right," Annie says tremulously. She looks me over once, evaluating. Apparently she's decided I don't pose much of a threat, because she says, "You must be Peeta."
I nod.
Finnick draws Annie closer to him and grins at us. "What did you have in mind to do in here?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Katniss gives him a look of greatest disdain. "We were going to have a conversation," she says. "You know, like normal, civilized people."
"Well, don't let us stop you," says Finnick. He coaxes Annie to her feet and leads her to the door, one arm still wrapped protectively around her shoulders. "Enjoy your… conversation." They leave.
I look at Katniss, whom I'm startled to see is trying to hold back laughter. "When did you meet them?" I ask. "I thought you were grounded – literally."
"That doesn't mean other people can't visit," she says. "Finnick's mentoring this year and he never goes anywhere without Annie… He's key in the rebellion; his entire District looks to him for orders right now." She sighs. "Naylor – the male tribute – well, the mayor's family were friends of his. He's not doing so well."
"He seemed fine," I say dubiously, not wanting to think about dead tributes. Fritz, Prim, Rue…
"Can't you see? He's hiding behind his jokes. He's hurt, more than you'd ever realize."
I don't know why Katniss is lecturing me on this. I'm the mentor, not her. You'd think I'd be telling her about losing tributes. But somehow Katniss understands it more than I do. Maybe because I'm such a mess right now, or maybe it's something more.
I sink down into one of the chairs and knead my forehead. "How long will it take to get to the arena?" I ask, very aware of how whiny this sounds and hoping it won't be too long.
"Just two hours," she says. "They've built it closer this year."
"And how many other Victors are on this hovercraft?" I add. I think another surprise like Finnick and Annie would just about be the end for me.
"Besides those two and Johanna… um… I think maybe two more. A guy from District Three and someone from District Five. Oh, and two from District Eleven. I forgot about them." She doesn't sound happy about this last pair. Katniss goes out the door, calling, "You should probably get to know them!"
With a weary groan I get up and follow her. What I wouldn't give to be five years old… Katniss leads me to a very small chamber with four people sitting around a table. She hangs back outside the door, motioning for me to go inside. Feeling way too self-conscious, I walk in.
There's a small man with ashen skin and raven-black hair, his gray eyes peering at me from behind a thick pair of glasses. On his right is a very pale woman with fiery red hair and sharp brown eyes. The other two, a man and a woman, are obviously from District 11, standing out because of their dark skin.
The small man stands up and smiles. He's maybe in his late forties or early fifties. "Hello, Peeta. I'm Beetee." He holds out his hand.
I take it, feeling myself smile back. "District Three, right?"
"Yes. We've been waiting for you."
That's enough to make me annoyed all over again, but I try not to let it show. Back in District 12, I would have done anything for the rebellion. But maybe Katniss is right. Maybe I can't lead. She'll be so pleased to prove herself right, some part of me says. I stand up straighter. I will not back down.
The redheaded woman nods distantly. She's kind of tall but not overbearing, and very slim. "Copernia Tatellum," she introduces herself. I get the feeling that she'd rather be almost anywhere but here, though I don't know why.
"It's nice to meet you," I say uncertainly. She looks vaguely familiar.
"This is Chaff, and this is Seeder," Beetee informs me, gesturing to the remaining two Victors. I move to shake Seeder's hand, but instead I end up trapped in a warm embrace as she hugs me. I'm frozen stiff.
"Thank you so much," she says when she releases me, "for what you did for Rue. You made her very happy."
I open my mouth to say no, that I didn't do anything, but nothing comes out. I'm blown away by both the compliment and the welcome. Nobody's ever acted so, well, motherly towards me before. I choke out a "no problem," and move on.
Shaking Chaff's hand is the best I can do, and I'm incredibly grateful that he doesn't hug me, too. Once a day is enough. I notice that his left arm ends in a stump – yet another reminder of the Games, and how they never really leave you.
"You need new shoes," Chaff tells me, looking at my feet. I remember Johanna's little shoelace noose and hide a shiver.
"I'll get by," I say.
Beetee claps his hands and sits back down, as does Seeder, the only other person to rise in the first place. I sit next to her and she smiles at me. "We were just going over the plan of action for the rescue," she says. "Beetee knows it better than the rest of us."
"It's very simple, really," Beetee protests. "There's nothing to it."
"Excuse us if we're mortal," scoffs Copernia. "Just tell the kid what he has to do."
Beetee gives her a sympathetic look – I get the feeling I'm not understanding something – and turns to me. "Peeta, when we get to the arena, there will be Capitol bombers doing their best to make sure we all die. I'm sure you know this already, so I won't spend too much time on it, but it's imperative that you understand: do not wait for anyone. Collect your assigned tributes, get them to the hovercraft, and keep them there. Don't get sidetracked. Don't try to help anyone else. Just follow the instructions.
"Now, I'll be finding the tributes from Districts One and Two, plus Marlene Orman from Four. How about the rest of you? Tell me who you're bringing back." Beetee looks around at the group.
"I've got Districts Three, Ten, and Six. And then Madge Undersee," Seeder adds, looking at me. "Don't worry. She'll be safe."
I nod, not really sure what to say.
"I have District Eight," Chaff grumbles. "They're going easy on me."
"No, we're not," Copernia tells him. "You're just slacking. I take Eleven and Five."
"That leaves you with District Nine," Beetee tells me, as if I couldn't have figured this out on my own. "Don't forget it," he stresses, fixing me with owlish eyes before leaving rather abruptly. Seeder and Chaff follow him, and I get up to do the same. A hard voice and cold fingers on my arm stop me.
"Mellark." I turn to see Copernia watching me with an impassive expression. "I'd like to have a word."
I sit back down, wondering why. It crosses my mind that I personally killed the female tribute from her district in my Games, and the thought does nothing to ease the tension in the room.
Apparently Copernia's been thinking along the same lines, because she says, "The girl, Vulpe, from District 5 last year. You killed her."
A ten-thousand pound weight drops onto my chest. "Did you, uh, know her?" I ask, hoping desperately that the answer is no.
"Well, yes," says Copernia, as I knew she would. Her voice wavers slightly and her eyes are very bright. "You see, she was my daughter."
A/N: Muahahahaha! For all you Foxface lovers out there.
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