Children's Day
I didn't run away. The fact that I could say this, after everything, I felt merited a brief celebration and a stint in my ongoing therapy sessions.
The impetuous urge to dash away was there as it had been all day, but it was easily suppressed. I admitted and respected that things had to happen before I could go and deal with the overwhelming swirl of emotions cutting into my stomach. Things like finding a home for the small, defenseless infant bundled in my arms. Things like letting Peeta know I had gone without upsetting the little girl that giggled madly as she danced on his feet. A small wave of sadness filtered through me as I turned from such a sweet scene that moments ago had only brought me happiness.
I quickly returned Thom Jr. back to his mother. Luckily he had begun to fuss for milk so Delly asked no questions as to why I suddenly returned him after just offering her a break. She re-used her warm smile she was giving her daughter and Thom Sr. as they too danced out on the field to music as she began to feed her son. I told Lyra who was sitting with us that I felt the urge to take a walk. She nodded without worry, watching Peeta and her daughter Kit dance fondly as Lucien judged the elementary school three legged race.
I did not run, but walked slowly, stealthily away from the mass of eyes that had been on me all day. Oddly my heart did not race in my chest, my mind did not feel as though it were about to burst with nerves. In fact I felt almost a strange sense of calm despite the war raging in my intestines. I did not want to scream, but I also did not know why I didn't. All I knew was I needed quiet and space and time to process the strange thoughts and feelings flowing through me after…after…
It had been a shockingly good day.
The happy feeling I had cultivated with Peeta early that morning had carried with me during my final hunts and prep with Delly. Thom's truck had been filled to the brim with food and sent to set up half an hour ahead of schedule. By that time the streets had already filled with families walking with a nervous excitement to the field set to house the faire. Half the District seemed to be filing down the road, and yet somehow I had spotted Peeta almost immediately. I couldn't contain my exhilaration as I ran to him and took him unawares. My arms were around his neck in an instant and I kissed him long and hard. A few whistles and catcalls were tossed our way, but for once I didn't care. All of Panem could have been on that street watching for all that it mattered. The portion of the day where we had to separate was over, and it had gone just as well as it did any other morning.
When we finally broke apart I had been rewarded with an elated smile and a fresh chocolate chip cookie he had saved for me. I had slipped my hand into his and had no intention of parting them for the rest of the day as we disappeared into the crowd.
Yet there I stood, the last of the day's light fading behind me, alone at the entrance of the new monument as I struggled against the unhappy thoughts that filled my head. It was one of the last places I ever thought I would go to seek refuge, and yet my feet had carried me there without direction.
Lucien had called it a Peace Garden, a place to commemorate and honor those lost during the Rebellion. I had abhorred the idea. There was enough out there that made me remember everything I wanted to forget. The idea of erecting some monstrosity at the edge of town glorifying my nightmares had been enough to send me into a wretched spell. For a week I talked to no one but Peeta, and even then it wasn't very often or very nicely. As always Peeta had tried to put a positive spin on it, but I could tell even he was dreading the idea. There would without a doubt be something about us and Haymitch, and inevitably that would mean someone from the Capitol would want us to make a speech or shove a camera in our face.
Yet the Capitol had not come. No reporters came knocking at our door, no phone calls in the middle of the night, no pleas from some up and coming political wannabe or even Effie that we play along. All we got was the same black and white flyer in the mail inviting us to the event as did the rest of the District.
The Peace Garden had been grown just outside the University, right where the entrance to Victor's Village had once stood. It was surreal to see ten feet high hedges and a beautiful stone archway stand where the house used to be. The house where so much had happened, both good and bad…
I had refused to go into it at first. I had stared at the beautiful curved entrance and felt certain all my nightmares awaited me on the other side. I could feel the eyes on my back as people walked past but no one stopped. No one wanted to force me in, and they reserved their curiosity out of respect. Peeta had been oddly quiet on the matter, and Haymitch had drank so much before begrudgingly agreeing to come out with us it was a wonder he could even stand.
Then suddenly came the adrenaline. I had felt my body pulsing to move, my legs itching to run, and my mind racing to make the right decision as to where. A sickening feeling akin to standing on the platform of the arenas as that horrible, life-challenging countdown flashed across my darting eyes washed over me. I had to get rid of this feeling. I had to move.
Without thinking I finally took a step forward.
I had held Haymitch's hand for physical support and Peeta's for emotional, but together we finally stepped forward.
I don't know what I had expected, except perhaps the worst. I had therefore been completely taken aback when the Peace Garden turned out to be…a garden. A colorful, dazzling garden with sturdy plants and fragrant flowers tastefully framing a winding path. It was calm and serene and already home to dozens of Mocking Jays building their nests in the large oaks that shaded the walk. I could just make out a large fountain at the end of the area and the pleasing sound of trickling water filled the air.
It was beautiful. Even Haymitch had seemed to sober up and straighten out at the sight. There was no feeling of despair here, no stench of death. This place, this monument, was a haven of life. I had felt the skin stretch across my hardened face as I relinquished a smile. Peeta and I caught each other's eye and laughed in nervous relief. It was only then that I realized how tightly our hands had been intertwined. He loosened his grip and wrapped his arm comfortably around my waist instead. He nodded over to Haymitch who seemed to be struggling to set his face back into his default look of aloof sarcasm. I squeezed my old mentor's hand briefly before the three of us continued on the path, soaking in the sights just like any other family.
The place of course had not been without its reminders of sordid woes. Stone slabs settled strategically at every bend, their cold harshness contrasting heavily with the natural beauty of the park. It was Peeta who stated in shock what they were, though I had a feeling Haymitch had recognized them first. They were pieces of the barrier that had separated District 12 from the rest of Panem. Some of the perimeter had been destroyed from the bombings and the rest had been torn down after the Rebellion, but there was no mistaking the cold gray surface of our old prison walls.
Each slab had been engraved with tidy words surmising a single event, and it had not taken us long to realize each piece was a small part of a large timeline of District 12, starting back even before the First Rebellion. It was almost too incredible to take at times. Much of the information I had known, and the words and occasional engraved picture read very much like the history books I had studied in school. Some of it however was filled with new information, like how generations upon generations ago Panem had been known as America, and other details that had only recently been shared to the public. Every time I came across such a fact I couldn't help but get angry at all the lies I had been told, all the censorship that had occurred. Yet today the little stones made me smile. It ensured that future generations would learn more than I did.
As we had progressed further down the path the events became more modern. They spoke of the sparks of the first Rebellion, the war, the establishing of the Hunger Games. It was all spelled out as short, simple facts. Most of the people on the path hardly seemed to take notice to the scattered timeline. Children ran from stone to stone playing tag, parents laughed, young couples strolled together in public intimacy. It was hardly the setting for an ugly spell or violent panic attack.
But suddenly I knew before seeing it what would be engraved on the next stone, what was bound to be engraved upon a few stones after that. The peaceful setting of the atmosphere vanished, bringing back the fear and anxiety such a place brought.
I had wanted to stop and turn back home. I wanted to save the three of us from the inevitable pain that lied ahead. Yet it had been Haymitch of all people who had pushed us forward with stunning determination. Peeta and I had walked behind him cautiously until we reached the next marker.
Haymitch Abernathy was the sole survivor of the forty-eight children forced into the 50th Hunger Games. He was the second "Victor" and final Mentor from District Twelve.
We had watched Haymitch as he stared at the stone, his sixteen year-old likeness staring back up at us. The two sentences and his picture was all that was said about him in the long fractured history of our District. It almost seemed shockingly small, and yet…yet his surviving the Games, though a huge part of my life, really was only a tiny piece of what had happened in the District. Centuries' worth of events had happened where we stood. The thought would have been overwhelming if only it hadn't made me feel strangely peaceful.
After what had apparently been deemed an appropriate amount of time, Haymitch kicked his face half-heartedly and we continued down the path.
There had been more stones spanning the next twenty-four years than I expected. Failed attempts at Rebellions successfully covered by the Capitol, technologies invented that took part in the eventual Rebellion, droughts that had led to more hardships, but eventually we came across the stone I had been dreading.
Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark became the first pair of Tributes to survive during the 74th Hunger Games. Their passion to keep each other alive and their victory against the Capitol ignited hope across the Districts.
The picture atop the stone was of the two of us holding the nightlock berries.
We stood there only long enough to read the description and move on.
Peeta and mine's names were mentioned twice more on the rocks, though there were no more pictures of us. The Third Quarter Quell was expected, and its explanation of importance was four sentences opposed to the usual two. It was stated on another piece that District Twelve had many key players in the Second Rebellion, though no names were explicitly elicited. In fact, after we passed the largest stone describing the slow but steady growth of the District after the war I felt our part played had graciously finished. It was due to this I almost missed one of the last stones adorned with the outline of the University and Hospital.
Peeta Mellark was elected to represent District Twelve at the Constitutional Convention, where he brokered the grants to fund the University and medical research facilities which brought financial prosperity to the area. Afterwards he and Katniss returned to the District to live a quiet life together.
"Oh hell!" Haymitch slurred loudly as he marched off. "It might as well say you two lived happily ever after."
As cynical as I tended to be I couldn't share Haymitch's reaction. I had swelled with pride and joy that this amazing accomplishment Peeta had performed was remembered. That it was stated as being as important for the District's prosperity as was his role during the Games. I didn't even mind being mentioned alongside him, as I knew such a statement being etched in stone would make him happy.
"This is by far my favorite history lesson ever," I had stated gleefully as I rubbed his arm. Peeta seemed completely taken aback by its existence, and my comment made his cheeks flush red. A laugh escaped my lips. It was a rare thing for me to see Peeta speechless, and I couldn't recall a time I had ever made him blush. Once again I could feel a crowd of eyes staring at our backs as people awaited our reactions. I dismissed their attention and simply kissed a smile back on Peeta's lips.
It was strange, so strange to think that such a journey had made me feel the way I had. My entire adult life had been spent trying to forget the past that reliving it so publicly and so fully should have sent me into a spiral. There had been dozens and dozens of markers in the garden, all of which could have triggered a spell. Yet there was something so therapeutic about seeing how small my role had really been. There had been a million pieces that had fallen into play before I had ever offered Peeta those berries, and a million pieces after I had been "exiled" back home, all that had nothing to do with me. Seeing the grand scheme of it all…it made me feel like a large weight had been lifted. It made me feel like there were things I could finally let go of.
None of those things, however, had been Peeta's hand. I continued to hold it as we explored the rest of the Garden. I stood by him as he asked me the names of the plants and flowers that surrounded us. I squeezed it as we joked lightly just like all the other couples around us did. I only let it go for a minute, right after he searched out his parents' and brothers' names on the large wall that listed all of those who were lost in the bombings and Rebellion. He needed both to do a rubbing on a piece of scrap paper. I took his hand back as soon as he was done, both for support and to lead us away before I found the name I knew my eyes would look for.
We finally had found Haymitch at the end of the Garden, staring at the large fountain. It was made of glistening white marble, simple in its design yet unmistakable in its splendor. Its waters were clear and cool and filled with fish of every color. We stood on either side of him, entranced by the beauty of the sculpture and the profound words engraved upon it.
In loving memory of the one hundred and forty six lives from District Twelve lost to the atrocities of the Hunger Games, and the four who survived the arena but were never truly allowed to leave. May peace be rested on their souls.
Tears had welled in my eyes before I could ask them to stop.Around the base of the fountain were the names of every Tribute from the District. I could see Peeta's name just left of the center, sandwiched between Ethel Bourns, the first name ever drawn from the reaping, and mine. The last Tribute placed next to the first as the cycle of names circled around the monument. There was nothing distinguishing that he had lived to see the structure built and that she had died over eighty years prior.
I had curled closer to him, resting my head against his chest so I could hear his lively heartbeat as I comprehended the meeting of the two names. Peeta held me to him but continued to stare ahead. Haymitch stood behind the two of us, his hand placed firmly on Peeta's shoulder as he looked at me with a blend of concern and affection. We were so wrapped up in the moment that none of us realized that someone had snapped a picture of us from across the fountain.
That photo later went on to be published, and was often reprinted in books and magazines as encapsulating the healing of the nation. Despite hating the invasion of such a private moment, I was secretly glad it was taken. It allowed me to look back years later at one of the most emotional yet profound moments of my life.
We had walked around the fountain to find Haymitch's name. We paused only once to look at Ellie Winters marking, the first Victor of District Twelve. I had never met her, but Haymitch had helped Peeta and I make a page for her in our book. She had won the Tenth Hunger Games, and waited until she had escorted Haymitch through his Victory Tour before she killed herself. I shuddered at the thought of Haymitch choosing to follow his mentor's footsteps had things turned out differently.
I had wrapped my arm around Haymitch's waist as the three of us left the Garden to join the festivities. I felt drained and overwhelmed all at once, and was more than grateful to drown myself in the distraction of the faire. There were games and music and more food than all of us could eat. I had stuffed myself with Peeta's sweets and Delly's pies, manned a booth where kids shot dulled arrows at a haystack bull's-eye for prizes, and danced to live bands from the District until my feet hurt.
For hours I had pushed the Peace Garden out of my mind as I had a wonderful time with my friends and family. Thom, Delly and their kids, Lucien and Lyra and Kit, and all of the Hawthornes sans one joined our party. Gale had returned back to District Two to end things with Rosewood and was due to return home any day. It had been strange but wonderful having him back, and with the friendship Peeta and he had finally struck up I couldn't help but think for a moment everything was as close to perfect as possible.
But joy is a fleeting emotion when applied so liberally.
…
I quickly traversed the winding path, the crunch of brown gravel filling my ears as I made my way. I did not stop to read the stones, and pointedly refused to acknowledge the memorial wall. Suddenly my aimlessness was filled with purpose as I knew with stunning clarity why I had returned, why after everything that had happened that day, everything that had happened over the last five years, why I had to be there.
I stopped just before the fountain, right where Peeta, Haymitch and I had stood. I cast my glance away from the profound structure. Its deep significance was not what I sought, nor was my intent to relive the intense feelings and affections from sharing it with my loved ones. It was something else, something I had almost overlooked because of the intensity of the moment, something that had subtly nagged at me until it snapped in the forefront of my mind like a forgotten memory…
An immense wave of anxiety flooded me at the thought as my eyes found the opening in the hedge. I saw a flash of bold colors pulse from the other side, an almost familiar image teasing into my subconscious, until once again it returned to the dark green of the hedge. Something was hidden there. The opening was so slight that you could only see it from the precise angle, but there was no mistaking it was there. I pushed forward with numbing feet until I made it to the threshold.
My heart shook when I saw what was on the other side.