The discussion with Cinna helped the preparations go smoothly. He told my vibrant prep team my wishes, and then modeled for them how to explain each step and ask permission to proceed. For my part, I had to say "yes" out loud with enough confidence for them to believe me each time. Otherwise, they had to wait. It was disorienting, and actually really difficult. Saying yes meant I had to pay attention to how I felt in each moment. I am not sure I have ever done that before, at least not with this kind of focus. The work of survival is not really concerned with my feelings. By the time they finished, I was exhausted.
Cinna shooed the prep team away and approached me to make final adjustments to my cape. "How do you feel, girl on fire?" he asked, allowing me to see myself in a full-length mirror for the first time. I stood there, breathless. I looked fierce. Powerful. I looked like a Victor. "Cinna this is amazing," I say, avoiding his question. I am too tired to decipher how I feel anymore today.
He picks up some items from the counter and brings them to me. "I found these in your pockets, do you need them?" Cinna asks, neutrally.
"I-uh, I don't want to get rid of them," I manage to reply.
"Katniss, I don't know what healthcare is like in District 12, but here in the Capitol, people take medication for their mental health all the time. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Normal, ordinary people just trying to get through the day," Cinna says.
"Normal, ordinary people? In the Capitol," I raise my eyebrows.
Cinna smirks. "Well, I suppose normal is somewhat relative. But some of us are just like you, once you get to know us."
"I- I don't know what they are. Haymitch gave them to me and told me they would help. But my mother was a healer- is a healer- back home and she taught me how to make medicines. I don't like that I don't know what's in it," I explain. I am alarmed that I have already started speaking of my mother in the past tense. As if that life is already dead.
Cinna slips the pills in a little plastic pouch for me and shows me where to stash them in my costume for safekeeping.
"I recognize that brand, I will see if I can get you more information on them before the end of the day. Now, what about the mockingjay? Is this your District token?" he asks.
I have been thinking about this since I left the Justice Building. Tributes are allowed to take one small thing into the Arena from home, provided that it passes inspection and is not considered a weapon. It means I can take them with me: the woods, Gale, my mother, Prim- even my father. It would be a great source of comfort to be able to touch it, to feel it on my body, to hold them close. But I think about the cameras. When Gale sees me wear it, he will think I have accepted his proposal.
If I hadn't been Reaped, I think I would have said yes. Gale is the only person I can imagine a future with, who gets me, who can provide a companionship and love that wouldn't feel like a cage. I am the only one who can soothe his heart when the weight of injustice gets too great. Many people think Gale has a hot temper, but Hazelle taught me to see its more nuanced than that. Gale doesn't get worked up for just anything, he burns for justice. It's not the blind rage I have seen from men in town after too many bottles of white liquor. It's a righteous anger fueled by grief and fear in the face of relentless oppression. It's the fire of compassion, and I loved him for it.
I love him for it.
I love him.
I am afraid that wearing it will only prolong his agony. If I reject him, if I refuse the pin, it might hurt him less when I am inevitably killed.
My instinct tells me to protect him, and I am ready to tell Cinna to throw the pin away when I am hit square in the chest with a memory. My father and I are in the woods, singing by our secret lake. The mockingjays pick up our melody, filling the trees with a harmonious chorus.
Go write me a letter, send it by mail.
Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.
Capitol jail, love, to the Capitol jail.
Bake it and stamp it to the Capitol jail.
Roses are red, love; violets are blue.
Birds in the heavens know I love you.
Know I love you, oh, know I love you,
Birds in the heavens know I love you.
As a little girl, the lyrics were just pretty words that rhymed. But now, here in the Capitol as a Hunger Games Tribute, they have taken on a whole new meaning. I remember why I kissed Gale in the woods. I was desperate to believe him when he said we would be okay, that he would have each other's back. I was desperate to live up to my father's hope. And desperate to show the man in front of me how much I love him. I feel a lump in my throat.
"Katniss, you okay?" Cinna asks. This brings me out of my reverie. I reach out for the pin, my eyes filling with tears. "Please," I gasp.
Cinna grabs a tissue and comes to me quickly. "Hey there, deep breaths. I chose District 12 on purpose you know," he says, dabbing the tissue around my eyes to protect the prep team's handiwork. "It's my job to make you look unforgettable. I hope that my work can show the rest of Panem how strong and smart and powerful you are."
He pins the mockingjay to my shirt, right over my heart.