Chapter Thirty-Six- What A Crop
The following few months are the worst. Mother is almost completely catatonic. Everyday she moves a few steps from her bed to the armchair in her room and back again, staring out of the window the whole way to avoid looking at me.
Blight comes over occasionally, when he's sober, and tries teaching Joey some easy meals to make for us all. He tried with me but for the longevity of the kitchenware he decided it would be better if 9-year-old Joey handled the cooking instead.
When Joey's at school, I leave Mother to her staring and try to keep Uncle Fern's butcher shop open. When I first let myself in, the bloodstain was still at the bottom of the stairs. I spent a morning on my hands and knees trying to scrub it away but I think it had been left too long so I bought a rug to cover it up. Sometimes I sit on the bottom step and talk to it, asking my Uncle what to do.
Hardly anybody comes into the shop, I'm not sure if it's out of respect for my Uncle or if they just don't want to talk to me. I do my best to be social when people come in but it's so difficult when I know that they all watched me kill people with my bare hands.
I speak to Finnick once a week on the telephone. I always call him. Sometimes Mags answers, sometimes Annie. It's obvious that they're trying to take care of him like Blight is making an effort to take care of us. They have to hold the phone to his ear sometimes because his hands are busy doing something. He tells me he likes tying and untying knots when his mind is racing so I assume that's what his hands are busy with. One day, three weeks before the reapings for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Finnick sounds even more distracted than usual.
"Do you ever wonder what they'd do if we just sailed away?" he says.
"I think they'd probably think I was a lunatic sitting in a boat in the middle of a forest," I reply twirling the phone cord around my fingers, trying to make a knot in it.
"You know what I mean."
"I think Peacekeepers would drag us back by our ears. If they didn't….what was that thing you told me about where they drag you under the boat?"
"Keelhaul us""Exactly. We shouldn't be talking about this anyway."
"No, I know. I've just been doing a lot of thinking."
"Have you run out of things to knot?"
He chuckles softly.
"No I haven't. I've been helping Mags make nets for the guys at the harbor; it'll save them some money if we just give it to them for free. They've been asking for help, and we're the ones they look up to so why shouldn't we be the ones to make the difference happen you know?"
"Not really. Odair are you ok? You're not drinking are you?"
I admit I had experimented with Blight's way of life but found it just too undignified. Little Joey had burst in on me cradling the toilet in the morning and I was absolutely mortified. No, I need to keep my wits about me, even if that means that I have to think about my Father, Uncle Fern, Red and Finnola every day.
"No I'm not drinking. Have you had a red envelope yet?"
"Not yet. You?"
"I've had three."
"Ever popular, you."
"I think they're just making sure I come back."
"Making sure you don't just sail away."
"Hmm. Listen I've got to go Mason, Annie's come over to help. I can see her at the window I've got to go let her in. I'll see you in a few weeks."
I say goodbye and put the phone down. What was he talking about, the 'guys at the harbor' asking for help? He can't be serious about sailing away or he wouldn't have told me over the telephone. Neither of us would know what to look for so we just accept that the phone lines are bugged. If he really was going to run away they'd all know by now and be watching him to make sure he didn't get very far.
I can hear movement in the kitchen. Joey is starting dinner. I go to see what he's making and get the surprise of my life when I see Mother sitting at the table.
"Mother's come to join us for dinner," Joey says with a big smile on his face. "I told her I was making carrot soup with cream and she said she wanted to try it!"
"She spoke to you?"
He nods and takes out a knife to cut up the carrots. Instinctively I take it off him and he pulls a face at me.
"I'm 9 and I do all the cooking, you don't have to keep me away from sharp things anymore," he tells me cocking his head to one side.
"When did you get so cheeky?" I gape.
"This morning?"
I laugh and insist on doing the cutting, pushing him away to get the other ingredients ready while I cut up the carrots. He goes to the panty and the door bangs shut behind him.
"Joey?" I call out, he doesn't answer. "Joey, bring some of those herbs Egor brought the other day." Still no answer. "Joey!" I turn around, still holding the knife and Mother screams.
Joey appears like a shot.
"What happened?" he yells over Mother's cries.
I shrug but he looks at the knife in my hand.
"Oh…" I put it down. She may have forgotten how to look after her 9-year-old son but remembers when her daughter waved a knife at her. Brilliant.
Joey calmly talks her down and then takes her back up to her room.
I don't see her again until my bags are packed, weeks later, to go to the reaping. I feel like I should go and say goodbye to her in case I accidentally get caught up in another unplanned 'act of rebellion' and she's the next victim.
Joey comes with me to the door.
"Mother?" he calls out. "Mother, Jo-Jo wants to say goodbye."
There's no invitation to come in, and no screams to stay out so we creak the door open and I step in.
"Mother, I'm going now."
I walk slowly towards her and she continues staring out of the window. I nod to Joey, who closes the door quietly.
"Mom I wanted to say goodbye, because I'm going to the reaping now and then I'm back in the Capitol for a while."
No reaction at all. Not even a flicker of the eyes in my direction.
"Stay safe Mom." I try to lay my hand on hers but she pulls it out of the way. "Fine." I say curtly and turn on my heels.
Joey has sat on the floor in the hallway with his back to the wall. He jumps up as I stride out of the room.
"That was quick," he says, running along next to me.
"Joey," I stop, go to kneel down to talk to him but stop myself. "When did you get so big? I don't even need to bend down to talk to you anymore." I pull him to my middle and give him a hug. He holds me tightly back. "Will you be ok here with her?"
"Of course, it's Mom."
"That's right, you're her favourite."
"Only cos I'm so cute." He grins.
"Only cos you haven't killed anyone." I stroke his hair gently.
"Yet," he whispers. "Three more years."
"Don't be silly, it won't ever be you."
"Isn't that what Mom and Dad said to you?" He's too clever. Too clever and too big. Why couldn't he have stayed a 6-year-old forever?
"It won't be you, I'll make sure of it. If I have to take apart every Peacekeeper in Panem with just my fingernails, I'll do it Little Joey."
"I know." He squeezes me again. "Come back soon."
"Not soon enough," I squeeze him too.
I call at Blight's house. We've decided between us that Egor should stay. He's too old to be any use to the Tributes and Joey adores spending time with him. So, the two of us put our suitcases into the back of a motorcar and are taken to the square, where people are starting to gather.
Blight and I sit in our usual seats on the stage in front of the Justice Building and watch as the Mayor makes his usual speech about what a proud District we are and how we have faith in whoever gets chosen today.
Lalaney takes the stage and we watch the usual film clip about the history of the games. The television cameras focus on me as I yawn widely in the middle of it and play with the chain on my gold locket absentmindedly. Lalaney announces that Blight and I will be the Mentors again this year and the goes to the bowls of names.
I look out at the ranks gathered before me. Where will this years sacrifices come from? One from the 18-year-olds right in front of us and one from the 12-year-olds at the back maybe? There's a broad-shouldered beefcake in the front row of the boys. I recognise him from one of the Logging teams that used to work in the woods behind the Victors' Village where my tree house was. I wouldn't mind if he was picked, we might stand a chance then. Perhaps we'll get that girl over there who looks like she has a fire burning behind her eyes.
Lalaney pulls a name out of the bowl.
"Hetty Moss."
There's a gasp from the 16-year-old section as two girls who look identical clasp hands. One of them drags her twin along behind her as she makes her way to the stage. Her sister won't let go. Some Peacekeepers step in and separate them. Hetty is walked down the aisle and up the steps. She is small for a 16-year-old, less than five foot I reckon and has dirty blonde hair with a face covered in freckles.
She shakes my hand and I see terror shining in her dark brown eyes.
"Hemlock Basswood." A dark haired, stern-looking boy, again from the 16-year-old section and again, pretty small, walks slowly towards us.
Oh District 7 what a crop you have.
I shake his hand too and Lalaney makes the two Tributes shake hands with each other for the photograph opportunity. The Tributes are taken away to say their goodbyes and Blight and I head to our own little room where we are given drinks to tide us over until it's time to get on the train.
I limit Blight to one drink and we discuss what we could do with this year's pair. Not a lot is the conclusion we come to.
Someone comes to get us after an hour to move us to the train. The Tributes are waylaid by the photographers on the platform, so we board without them.
I put my suitcase on the bed in the bedroom I always occupy on the train and sit down. The bed rustles underneath me. Funny, it's never done that before.
I stand again and see a flash of red on the blanket. An envelope.
"Johanna?" Lalaney calls for me. "Come and properly meet Hetty and Hemlock."
I decide not to let the envelope throw me. I rip it open and pull out the 'invitation'. At least I might be able to raise extra sponsor money from this one.
8o'clock, after the Tribute Parade, at a bar just off the City Circle and my new suitor's name is Plutarch Heavensbee.