A/N: Happy New Year from Ft. Lauderdale, FL where Brett and I are here to see our NIU Huskies play in the BCS Orange Bowl! Go Huskies! Also, we are engaged as of a month ago so it's been a crazy exciting month. My friend Kevin sent me a text on Christmas demanding another chapter of fanfic written as lyrics to Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" so I obviously obliged. I wrote this on the way down to FL and expect another chapter or two here pretty soon!
CHAPTER 35
I sleep most of the time, mostly to dampen the anger I feel. My agitation is at its peak and I realize that being with Peeta and Haymitch had actually had a calming effect. I had, in fact, trusted the both of them until the deceit with that program. Now I'm not sure who I can trust and who I cannot if even my mother and former mentor would sell me out. Hazelle, yes. Hazelle is every bit of District 12 that was good: the neighborly love, the selflessness, the warmth, the food. I trust Gale as my truest childhood friend. He is still Gale to the core even if he dresses a bit differently. Even that gives me pause. Gale with snares and a clever mind was a force to be reckoned with as Gale follows Gale's agenda; Gale with a bit of power… well. Any testosterone-fueled young man with quickly-earned power and success can be as destructive as he will let himself be. The difference between Peeta and Gale is that Peeta never actively sought conflict and went relatively unnoticed in life as the third Mellark boy until the Reaping. Gale sought conflict wherever he went as it would suit him. One day he was hot and the next day he was cold. Unpredictable, like prey, which is partly why I admired him so. That, and because he was good at anticipating his own unpredictable prey's moves and ensnaring it efficiently. I was always a good shot but I would have never become as skilled of a hunter and later, assassin, if I hadn't had a glimpse into the way Gale's mind works.
So, in short, at this point I can't be certain if I'm developing a host of paranoid delusions or if it really is true that anyone in Panem would use me as they see fit in order to further advance themselves. I've talked with Finnick, Johanna, and Haymitch enough to know. They've largely spared me the details but after the Games, there is no limit to my imagination of how terrible any one person can be.
But things calm down and remain consistent for the following six months. Gale and I go to work, the kids go to school, I take some morphling and go for walks while Gale works and goes on trips. My walks concern Hazelle, ever the watchful mother hen. She doesn't like that I go and worries that I will be harmed or recognized or robbed or worse; I command everyone not to follow me. I think Hazelle understands that I need some time for reflection and memory and mourning; however, she has told me on more than one occasion that she feels that I may spend a little too much time reflecting and that perhaps I should do something to keep my mind off things. I myself have suggested to Gale that perhaps I could get involved in some charity work such as delivering meals to the elderly or helping feed the poor. He dismisses the idea as unsafe, concerned that I would be recognized and sent back to Haymitch or worse, jailed for falsifying information. He doesn't say so, but I know he is concerned for himself and his job security as it would be pretty obvious who had falsified that information for me. I think we're all on edge about the whole situation as it never truly leaves our minds that we could be found out at any moment. Still, I'm so bored and lonely here that I often open the top drawer of my dresser and stare at my identification pass thinking about where I'd go, what I'd do, who I'd be. I think about becoming Madge entirely and living out therest of my life that way. But next to my ID, I have the pouch with the pearl in it that Peeta gave me. I don't take it out of its pouch but I can sit there and spend an hour or more rolling it around between my thumb and forefinger all over the inside of the pouch, thinking about Peeta. I wonder what he's doing and if he's happy. Does he think I left him for Gale? I mean, does he really think that I would just stop caring for him because of Haymitch? Will I ever see either of them again? Will Peeta have moved on? Does he really care for Johanna now?
A million questions and worries run through my mind and I now regret having ever left. I thought things would be simpler. I think about taking my ID and leaving, testing to see if I'd be caught. It went well the first time but no one had been alerted of my disappearance. I'm still not sure if Haymitch has reported me as missing yet. And so what if I were caught? Would I be sent to prison for leaving District 12 where I was to remain under Haymitch's care for years until my case was under review?
I didn't have to wonder long, though. Some weeks had passed since I had last pondered just up and leaving the Hawthornes. This time I felt pretty brave and willing to risk it; I had even begun packing. I opened the top drawer of the heavy oak dresser and find only my underthings and the pouch with the pearl. Hazelle must have taken it out and put it with the family's IDs for safekeeping like she had once recommended. It was probably a good thing, too, since I'd have to go through her instead of making any impulsive decisions.
Soon, though, my boredom is relieved when Gale assigns me the task of organizing a luncheon to welcome the CEOs of a medical research company newly subsidized by the government. Gale is hoping to establish a branch in District 12 as well as a way of rebuilding his home district's main economy. Gale has sketched out the main components and vendors to use; it's my job to compare prices and to negotiate the details and prices of the engagement. I'm thankful that my role in planning the small details of the luncheon has already been taken care of as I have never planned any social engagement in my life.
The morning of the luncheon, Gale sets out a lovely red cocktail dress and heels for me to wear. I'm thankful that this time in heels won't be caught on national television. I squeeze myself into the dress and wear my simple canvas shoes with the heels clutched in my right hand to change into later. Hazelle looks me over approvingly and gives me a hug and kiss.
"You look lovely," she says. She pauses and then holds up her index finger, signaling me to wait a moment. She emerges from her bathroom with some jeweled bobby pins. She lets my hair out of my braid and runs her fingers through the long waves, pinning a sectin of hair out of my face with the bobby pins.
"These were my sister's," she says, weaving the pins into my hair. "Given to her by Haymitch long ago." And there it is, my suspicions confirmed. On my way out the door, she tosses me a tube of red lipstick.
On the cab ride over, I scroll through my holo to make sure I have confirmation from each vendor, anxious that I may have forgotten something. I check in my saved drafted messages to ensure that I hadn't forgotten to send something. I'm not in the habit of saving drafts and not sending them except as it pertains to Peeta. I know I have written a dozen messages to him at least since learning about him and Johanna. I just could never get the wording right. I mean..what do I say? What can I say? The damage is done and nothing I write to him will undo that. He's made up his mind. Still, though, I've held on to the messages just in case I have an epiphany and work up the courage to once again message him.
When I click on the drafted messages icon, however, it's empty.
Empty?
I know I didn't touch those messages. Well, did I? Is it possible that I was too high at one point to remember? Is it possible that Hazelle or Gale erased them? Or maybe Posey was playing with my holo and did it by accident.
But no. It isn't possible because holos are always either voice-activated or require the user's fingerprint. Since I know from experience how previously recorded voices can be altered and manipulated for just about anything, I decided to use my fingerprint.
I'm probably just being paranoid. I'm sure I did it by accident.
I scan my cab card to log the distance of my travel and get out of the vehicle in front of the gray cement building where I know Gale will be waiting for me to assist in the preparations.
"You're late," he says, looking at his holo as I walk through the door. "It's fifteen minutes after eight."
"Sorry," I apologize, fumbling with my own holo. "I just had some trouble getting into the dress and then your mother stopped me on my way out the door and—" I glance at the time on my holo. "Wait, my holo says it's only five minutes after."
"Let me see it," Gale says impatiently, reaching his hand out for the device. I hand it over. "You're right," he remarks. "I'll just fix it." He attempts to swipe his finger over the screen.
"Um, you can't." I remind him.
"Oh," he chuckles, embarrassed. "That's right. Of course not." He hands the holo back to me.
I access the settings in my holo and find that it requires a passcode to change any administrative settings. That's odd. I pause, staring at the face of the holo with a puzzled look.
"Just nevermind about the time. We usually arrive to work together anyway," he says impatiently. "Come on, let's get started and just get done what we need to accomplish for the morning."
"Okay," I respond and eye Gale suspiciously.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing," I say. "I'm just nervous is all. I hope it goes all right."
"It will be great," he says, and pauses to look at my lips over which I've hastily applied lipstick. He uses his thumb to wipe away some smudged lipcolor and smiles.
"You have nothing to worry about," he reassures me. "It will go smoothly and you look…you look so beautiful. But here." He reaches into his pocket and places a small pill in my hand. More morphling.
"Oh, I already took some this morning," I say in refusal.
"So take another," he closes my fingers around the pill. "To ease the nerves."
"Thanks," I say but I pocket the pill as he walks into the conference room. I think that's enough morphling.