The first night home I scream. I'm overtired. The greetings at the train station took forever. The photo ops, the welcoming ceremonies… We weren't home until well after midnight. Peeta and I separated awkwardly. My family was there and my mother ushered me in the house after a group goodbye. I think she expects Peeta to disappear when the cameras do. I can't blame her. That was our relationship before the Tour. I was grateful for it before, but now its nighttime and I'm screaming.
It's almost as bad as when I got back from the Games themselves, except where before I dreamt of tracker jackers and fire balls, now I see my sister being ripped from my arms by men with pointed teeth. Peeta being kidnapped in the night – vanishing into thin air. Gale buried alive in ash. I choke as I come to, snot and spit drowning me in my bed.
"She's awake," Prim says, her eyes glued to me. My mother pulls my nightgown from my body, I feel it the fabric run over my skin, soaked and heavy with sweat. I'm still erratic. Trying to regain control, but not finding any. I hear a knock on the front door and flinch. It could be Peacekeepers coming to take Prim away from me. I clutch her tight to my chest as my mother heads down the stairs.
"She's fine, I promise," I hear her soothing voice float in the air. I can't hear more than that. My sister braids my hair and my mother comes back in the room with a hot mug of tea in her hands. "Here, drink this," she offers, but I set it on the nightstand. I have no interest in sleeping anymore tonight. When I finally calm back down, my sister turns out the lights and they leave me alone. I stare at the ceiling.
Early the next morning my team descends upon the house to get me ready for the first of a two-day Harvest Festival celebration. I have to laugh that we are sticking to the theme – fall colors of burnt orange and fire red – even though outside everything is gray and cold and dead. Flavius finishes my hair and spies Prim watching him from the corner. "You have very pretty hair," he beams at her, and Prim blushes and hides her face in the collar of her shirt. "I'm all done with your sister, do you want me to do yours for tonight?"
"Really?" Prim asks in disbelief.
"Of course!" he chirps, and pats the empty seat in front of him.
"I could do your nails, if you'd like," Octavia adds, inspecting Prim's hands. "Oh good. You don't have your sister's nasty habit of chewing them to bits." Octavia gives me an affably dirty look, and I shrug. Soon I'm done, and all three of them are bobbing and weaving as they prep Prim. She glows through it all. I can't help but smile. They don't make her look clownish. She looks like a girl - almost radiant in her youth.
Cinna arrives a couple hours later with my wardrobe. My dress for tonight is umber. I swear these fashion words will never leave my head. The gown falls all the way to the floor, and when I move it swishes around my feet in a playful yet elegant way. I feel overdressed. No one in 12 owns fancy clothes, even for the Harvest Festival. I'm woefully out of place, and I already feel foolish enough as it is. I look like I've been imported from the Capitol, not that I'm a daughter of 12. Cinna catches my disapproving look, and I quickly wipe it from my face.
"It's beautiful. Really. I just don't feel like myself," I offer.
"Cameras," is all Cinna says, and I know he's right. The rest of Panem will be expecting something fabulous for the Harvest Festival, and tomorrow's closing ceremonies. Still, I'm not playing Snow's stupid game anymore, and I'd rather show up in slacks and a sweater.
All my frustration evaporates when Prim comes downstairs. Cinna made her the most beautiful dress. It's shimmery and gold. She looks like she could be gilded. When she twirls the skirt lifts and the underneath sparkles in the light, but nothing shines brighter than her face. I saw the dress she had laid out to wear. It was new, or new to us anyway. Soft pink, cotton, and probably more fitting for a Reaping than a ball. This is an upgrade.
"Wow," I hear Peeta's voice from behind me. I turn to see him standing in the doorway, entranced as Prim spins. She only stops when she's too dizzy to stand upright, and sends a bright smile his way. "Maybe I'm engaged to the wrong Everdeen," Peeta teases, and Prim swats at him. He takes her hand and twirls her around once more. He looks up at me, still grinning. "Hey."
"Hey," I smile back. He steps forward and kisses my cheek politely, and I feel my mother's eyes burning into the back of my head. The rest of our team arrives in short order, and I can tell my mother feels strangely in the way. Despite Effie's persistent pestering, she's not coming to the festival tonight. My mother doesn't leave the house much, not since my dad died. She stares as Effie corrals us all into place. By now this feels normal to me, but from the look on her face we must look like some kind of circus act.
"Come now, children, we mustn't be late!" Effie chirps above the din. In quick order we're all out in the night air, leaving my mother behind to stare at a closed door.
Cameras follow us most of the way to town. Normally the Harvest Festival is held in the square, but it's also normally in the daytime and weeks earlier in the year. It's bitterly cold now, so the festivities have been moved inside the Justice Building. As a result, most people from District 12 won't be attending tonight's event. I feel guilty. I remind myself everyone will be at the closing ceremonies tomorrow. Everyone in 12 will have full bellies.
After tonight's celebration, there is a late cocktail hour at Mayor Undersee's house. For VIPs only, Effie insists. At the Justice Building, Peeta and I are announced and start mingling. Effie parades Prim around, finally given a girl with beauty and class. "The girl who started it all!" Effie twitters. I've been replaced.
Peeta's hand weaves in mine, and I feel exposed. In the other districts we could hide among strangers, but here I feel the eyes of people I know on me. Merchants who trade with me in secret in the backs of their shops. Parents of children that never befriended me, who think I'm cold and indifferent. Others who never cared for me before, but since I won the Games have shown me kindness. Who have only survived this year because of Parcel Day. Some people who look at me with pity. Those are the worst. I don't want anyone's pity.
I hate being in the Justice Building. It's where my father's memorial was held. It's where they reaped my sister. It's where I said goodbye. I try to focus on the positive. There is more food than we've ever seen at any kind of event in 12. I assume the Capitol funded most of this party. They can't have the final district events be sad and boring. After the drinking and dancing begins, my mood lifts considerably. Peeta and I spin around the dance floor, capturing Prim between our arms and keeping her caged between us like a playful prisoner. Her laughter fills the night air, and for a minute I forget that everything is on the verge of collapse. That I could lose her. Instead, I watch her gold curls bounce as Peeta dips her almost to the ground, a smile dazzling across her lips.
When the music slows to a soft, romantic melody, I shift my gaze to Peeta, but he's not meeting mine, he's looking past me. "Care to dance?" a familiar voice floats across the room. I turn around and see Gale. He's dressed in clean, button-up shirt and dress slacks. I didn't even know he owned dress slacks. A brilliant smile stretches across my face and I wrap my arms around his neck. I've spent the last weeks dreaming of him dying over and over. Seeing him here, safe and alive and in person, is like breathing fresh air. I look back to Peeta.
"Oh, I was hoping I could dance with Prim," he says with a fake smile on his face. He's fooling everyone but me. Peeta takes Prim's hand and she curtsies like she's seen ladies do on television. She's much too short for him, and she stands on his feet. We never had a brother, but I imagine this is what it might have been like.
"Well?" Gale asks. I take his expectant hand and he pulls me into him. We sway to the music and are mostly quiet. We've never been much for talking, and I don't totally know what to say. I never told him about Snow's threats, and our last exchange before I left for the Tour didn't leave us on the same page. I just try to be honest.
"I missed you," I say, and I feel him relax next to me.
"I missed you too," he says gently, but the way he's looking at me makes me uncomfortable. I look over his shoulder at Peeta and Prim. They look like they could be related – blonde-haired and blue-eyed. She's swishing her dress around while they spin, making it sparkle in the light. Peeta looks happier than I've ever seen him. Maybe his family left him, but he's found another with Prim and me. Where is Peeta's family? I look around but I don't see them. Gale's hand suddenly feels very foreign on my back. I shift awkwardly but I don't think he's picking up on any of it.
"I wish we weren't here. I wish we were somewhere where we could talk," Gale says, leaning in close. I pull away from him. "Oh right. Cameras."
"After the Tour ends. We can talk then," I offer quietly, and it seems to pacify him. When the song ends, we part. His hand lingers on my waist, but Effie takes my wrist and for once I'm grateful for her lack of awareness.
"We need to make our way to Mayor Undersee's home. Say goodnight to your cousin," she orders with an awkward amount of cheerfulness.
"Sorry," I say over my shoulder as Effie rushes me away from Gale. Peeta joins my side. Prim is walking home with the Hawthornes, but I wave at her before I go. The mayor's home is only a couple blocks up. My hand finds Peeta's and squeezes it tight.
"Are you excited to see Madge?" Peeta asks. I guess Madge is my friend now. We don't gossip or trade clothes, like other girls our age do. But we ate lunch together in school. And she came to say goodbye. I like to listen to her play piano. I guess that makes us friends.
"Yeah," I say, more unenthusiastically than I mean to be. Peeta gives me a look. "I'm just tired," I add.
"I know," Peeta says with understanding. "Me too."
When we reach the mayor's house, I give Madge a quick hug, but Effie hustles me away to go greet more guests. We circle the room. More drinking. Eating. Dancing. It doesn't even feel like 12. When I try to find Madge again, she seems to have disappeared. I let Peeta know I'm slipping out and he agrees to cover for me while I sneak up to Madge's room. I take the stairs to the second floor. On the way I pass the mayor's study. Madge and I would occasionally sneak in there to read. Her dad has an antique collection of books that make me forget I'm stuck here in this miserable life. We weren't allowed to take them out of that room, so we'd just lie on our stomachs and read on the floor.
I sneak inside and stare at the books on the shelves. Madge's father would be so thrilled with the collection on the train. I wonder if it left already. Maybe I could take him tomorrow. The television in the corner blares, and I try to drown it out. It's images of Peeta and I from the party at the Justice Building. Dancing, kissing. Don't people get bored of this? I start to leave the room when the screen flashes and a loud, monotone beeping draws my attention. The television goes black, and then the words "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" start flashing. I know I'm not supposed to see this, but I can't step away.
An announcer appears on the television. It's not a reporter or someone from any of the news stations. This is a government broadcast, meant for limited viewership. It's meant for the mayor. The gray-haired woman on the screen warns a Level 3 alert has been issued and more ground troops are being deployed to 8. All textile production has ceased. Images of District 8 flood the screen. This is not a riot. This is an uprising.
A mob of citizens with fabric and homemade masks wrapped over their faces storm the square. Buildings burn in an angry blaze. Peacekeepers shoot recklessly into the crowd. People scream and collapse and bleed on the street. But they stand up. They fight back. My heart is racing and I know I've stayed too long. I quickly make my way to do the door, and just in time as the mayor turns the corner and we almost run into each other. He greets me with a friendly smile.
"You trying to get away too?" he asks, referencing the party.
"I couldn't find Madge," I say, not completely lying.
"Oh, she went to her room," he adds, and I walk down. "Try to get her to go back downstairs, will you? Sometimes she's too like her mother."
I smile politely and quickly rush to Madge's room. She's sitting on her bed picking at a stray thread on her comforter. She's wearing the same pretty white dress she wore on Reaping Day. "Look at you. Like you came right off the streets of the Capitol," she smiles at me.
"Can I hide in here with you?" I ask, and she pushes over on the bed. I take a seat next to her and we both sit quietly. This is how most of our exchanges go. I like it. I see my mockingjay pin attached to the strap of my dress. "Oh, I just realized I never gave this back to you," I say, starting to unpin it.
"No, keep it," Madge says.
"Well, you must have expected it back," I reply. When a tribute dies, their belongs are shipped back to their district along with their body. The return of a tribute is normally a solemn event in 12. The Capitol waits until a Victor has been declared, and then all the bodies are returned in one trip. Being the farthest out, 12 is the last stop and the last to collect their fallen. Tributes come in a plain wooden box. Normally a grave has already been dug, and the box is taken directly from the train station to the cemetery. Funerals here are plain affairs. We bury our dead. Maybe someone says a few words or sings a song. The parents mourn. We give them space and time to heal. Those that can bring them food. And then we repeat the next year. And the year after. And the year after.
"I was hoping I wouldn't get it back," she replies with comfort in her voice.
"Where did you get it?" I ask, trying to delay the inevitable trip back downstairs.
"It belonged to my aunt, but I think it's been in the family for a long time," she says.
"It's a funny choice, don't you think? A mockingjay," I ask. "I mean, because of what happened in the rebellion." A mockingjay is something the Capitol never intended to exist. A cross between a weaponized Mutt and a songbird. An abhorrence, sort of like me. Madge just shrugs her shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. We hide here for a little while, but eventually we agree to head back down.
I find Peeta and check the time. It's already well past midnight. Effie finally gives us the okay to go home. It's a short walk, so Peeta and I dismiss ourselves and head back to Victor's Village on foot. The night is bitterly cold, and I wrap the fur coat Cinna gave me tight around my shoulders. Peeta's pace drags. While neither of us wanted to stay at the party, we aren't looking forward to another night alone either. Before long we're at my doorstep, both hesitating. I don't know how to do this. Things were easier on the train. When it was just us. Peeta leans in to kiss me, but I place my hand on his chest.
"I think maybe we should keep things between us private," I say, feeling uncomfortable being kissed on my doorstep by a boy, like we are on a regular date. Like anything about this is normal.
"Private from who?" Peeta asks, looking around us and finding nothing but quiet and night.
"My mother has been watching us all day," I whisper, although I'm not sure who I'm sheltering my voice from.
"The whole country knows we're engaged, Katniss," Peeta replies.
"Yeah but we aren't really engaged," I retort, and Peeta takes a step back from me.
"Fine," he states coldly, moving off the steps.
"Peeta - wait," I call out, but he's already got his back to me, walking toward his house. Great. I head inside and stare at my ceiling until the sun comes up.