Chapter 9: What Could Be Better?

Dolly Evana really was right – we are one of the finest batches of tributes to be brought out of District 12 in years. District 12 has made the critical Final Eight with not one, not two, but three dogs in this fight. The other five districts still in the hunt are hanging by pins and needles, with one death able to wash them out of competition this year entirely.

Haymitch and I debate what our game plan is for tomorrow as we go to bed that night. I insist that we find Beech before Opal or someone else does and take him with us. Absorb him into our alliance… for now. Haymitch is hesitant, reminding me that even if we could find Beech, we don't know how the arena has affected our friend. When my district partner points to his head for emphasis, I gulp, getting his meaning. Tributes – no matter whether they die or even become Victor – have sometimes descended into madness along the way. My sense of district loyalty still thrums in me, however, as I curl up on one end of the tarp and Haymitch takes the opposite side, our backs to each other. I know one thing: the arena nights are getting cooler than they were at the start. The Gamemakers must be screwing with the temperature to test us. Even with my light jacket on, I'm shivering…. at least until I feel a second rustle of fabric settle over me, just before I nod off…

I wake up to find both light jackets cocooning me, and Haymitch leaning against one of the packs, munching on the green apple I found in the District Six boy's pack. One half of the fruit is gone, chewed down to the core. Seeing me staring at him, he sets it aside, and I nod in approval, running back through our food supply in my head: the beef jerky. Half an apple. 3 and 3/8ths bottles of water. About half a bottle of apple cider. And one bloodred orange. By Hunger Games standards, I'd call that a feast. As long as I continue to conserve carefully, and monitor Haymitch to make sure he does too, Brutus won't have to send us a parachute right away, nor would I expect him to. Thinking of Beech again, I look up to the sky, as if that's where my mentor is and say, "We're fine for now, Brutus. If you could send something to Beech, that would be a better use of your time." I hope he listens to me, as I think of our broad Seam friend. Haymitch may not agree, but I couldn't kill Beech – a fellow neighbor from Twelve – if it came down to it. I couldn't kill Haymitch, for that matter. And having already murdered five people between the two of us, I think we deserve a rest, if only for a day.

Backpacks over our shoulders, we set off. In our little alliance, Haymitch has clearly designated himself Leader, to which I don't object. He selects our course, and once he picks it, he doesn't waver. Much in the same way I did when counting paces, except that was mostly so I could retrace my steps to clear points of reference later.

I request a rest at one point, and use it to scale a sturdy oak, trying to gather our bearings. What I see upsets me. "Oh no…" The Cornucopia meadow has been completely overrun by molten lava, some of which is already starting to cool into igneous rock. Though the volcano itself appears to be no longer active, magma is still dribbling down the sheer cliff faces. The Cornucopia horn itself is but a speck in the distance.

I bite my lip. No matter whether the lava is still melted or cooled into rock, Haymitch and I can't go back to where we started the Games – we'd be burned and melted alive. Taking shelter on what's left of the mountain is out of the question for the exact same reasons. If Beech, Opal and the four others are smart, they'd steer clear of both places too. That means we're all trapped in the woods…. and vast though these woods may be, we'll encounter each other sooner or later.

I swing down to the ground, finding Haymitch leaning against the same tree. "Well?"

"We're in pretty far deep. I could barely make out the Cornucopia from here." I take a deep breath. "Haymitch, the meadow is all but gone. Lava's seeped in, and it's already cooling over. There's still lava running on the mountain as well. Everyone still left will have to be somewhere in these trees, and stay there, if they want to live."

He nods grimly. "We'll keep our weapons out at all times. If another tribute comes across us, we kill it on sight."

"Unless it's Beech?" I prompt.

He doesn't answer me for a moment. Finally, he gets out, "Depending on how much further we get... yes, unless it's Beech."

I smile in relief, boldly pecking him on the cheek. "Thank you," I croon.

He just harrumphs in response, nodding to me. "Good work up there." My radiant smile doesn't leave me for the rest of the morning. As we continue along, I'm even in a good enough mood to tentatively call out for Beech, still holding out hope that we might just stumble across him. After about three attempts at this, an annoyed glare from Haymitch makes me stop.

The sun is setting as we set up camp by a babbling brook – smaller than the stream I found. Haymitch still eyes it warily. The anthem plays, but there are no faces in the sky tonight. We decide to split the last orange amongst ourselves, Haymitch using his knife to carve it into equal slices. I notice his oddly liberal concept of sharing; how he passes more slices to me than those he saves for himself. I don't comment on it, and neither does he.

"Tell me about Digger," I murmur. Haymitch and I are actually huddled together under both of our light jackets. The chill in the night air has now turned biting. But with Haymitch's body heat pressed against mine, I don't feel it. "How…. how did you two meet?" It's a question I don't want to ask, but I have to do something to calm my racing heart. Does Haymitch know how heady and terrifyingly wonderful it is to be near him, like this?

He shifts his arm against my back, and I take it as an invitation to draw in closer, settling in the crook of his shoulder, my head on his chest. It's a rather cozy, intensely intimate position, and I can safely presume that the Capitol studio executives running this show aren't appreciating me asking about some girl as I snuggle up to her boyfriend. There's a small silence before my district partner answers me.

"It was about…. eight years ago," he begins. "Lacklen and I were walking to school one day…."

"Lacklen?" I interrupt, frowning.

"My little brother," he explains.

"Ah." I settle back down against his chest, nudging him to go on.

"Out by the Slag Heap…" (his cheeks go pink at this, and mine do too – I may not be Seam, but I've heard the rumors about what Seam kids go to the Slag Heap to do), "we came across a group of big kids harassing two little girls from the Community Home. One of them was Digger. The other was Gilla, and –"

"Wait," I sit up, staring down at him as a wry smile tugs at my lips. "You knew Gilla before we were Reaped?"

"Vaguely. I only saw her that one time. She would have been about… five, I guess, same as Lacklen. Last I had heard, a Seam family who couldn't have children eventually adopted her out of the Community Home. I was eight, as was Digger. I picked up a rock and hurled it at the bullies' leader; gave him a gash right across the cheek. Then I charged them, actually driving them off. Gilla cleared out quickly, but Digger stayed and I introduced myself. We were friends for a long time after that, until, one day…. we weren't. We were…. more."

My heart cries out in pain, begging me to leave it alone. "How… how long have you two been… together?"

"Just a year," he shrugs, like it's no big deal, but I can tell it is.

I nestle against him again. "Did you… see what happened to Gilla?"

He whistles out a long breath through his teeth. "No," he rumbles with regret. "I thought I saw Beech, though, just before I ducked into the trees. I think it was him who snapped the neck of a Career boy – must have been the one from District 4 we saw in the sky the first night, if you got the other one."

I smile a little at this. "I had guessed as much." We settle down quietly for a long time after that, and I am just beginning to feel drowsy when:

"What about you?"

"Hmm?" I purr almost dreamily, a truly giddy smile still tugging at my lips. "What about me?"

"Everyone's heads turn whenever they see you and your sister walking by, but it's not like I've seen you hanging around any guy."

I crane my neck up to look him in the face, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Oh, n-no," I stammer. "I don't have a boyfriend."

Haymitch snorts. "Right."

"I don't!" I almost laugh, swatting his chest. "By the State, you're as bad as Brutus!"

"I mean, you can see why I don't believe you," Haymitch is grinning, grey eyes dancing like smoke with mirth. "You had Brutus all hard-up from the moment we met him on the train."

My cheeks flush pink at the innuendo. Then a memory surfaces, and I laugh. "Re…. remember when Brutus made that crack about a…. D-District 7 lumberjack giving us a free show with his hands down his pants?" I am wheezing by now, my voice fighting to finish the story. "And… and Beech asked, if that meant everyone else was gonna be as naked as we were at the parade!" Haymitch belly laughs, his diaphragm reverberating with the rich baritone of it against my cheek.

"That was great." Somewhere far away, wherever the mentors gather, Brutus must be getting quite a ribbing from his colleagues at our expense. Serves him right.

Our laughter peters off awkwardly. Silence reigns for a beat or two before I finally blurt out an admission:

"I've had my first kiss." He tilts his head down to look at me, my blue eyes shimmering like sapphires in the moonlight. "A Reaping Kiss. Danny Mellark. He kissed me."

His eyebrows nearly shoot up into his hairline. "But he's got a girlfriend! The apothecary's girl – what's her name?... Belle!"

I nod. "Yeah. My best friend. We kissed right in front of her too."

Haymitch now looks gobsmacked, so I just shrugged. "She wasn't bothered by it. Danny caught me by surprise, and well… it was sweet. He was trying to protect me."

Haymitch doesn't say anything for a moment. At last, he forces out, "My girl gave me a Reaping Kiss, too, you know. Kissed Lacklen too – he seemed to enjoy it far too much, the smug bastard." I giggle into my hands. My district partner sighs heavily. "For all the fat lot of good it did any of us. The Reaping Kiss protected my brother and Digger. It didn't protect me…." He peers down at me again. "Or you."

I smile brightly up at him. "I wouldn't say that. Why, I'd wager those little kisses have brought us plenty of good luck so far. Maybe it'll carry… one of us through." My voice falters, and I feel the muscles in my heart twinge in pain again.

"Go to sleep," I hear Haymitch murmur against me.

I do. "Mitchy?" I yawn as my eyelids start to droop. "Promise you won't kill me?"

"I won't. I promise."

"Cross your heart?"

Just before I step over into the subconscious, I hear him sigh heavily.

"Cross my heart."