Chapter 60- Terra Coppersmith
"Terra. Wake up."
Somebody shaking me jolts me awake. It's not hard to wake me up; I haven't been a heavy sleeper for a long time. For a brief moment my head still feels like I'm in the arena, and the Careers are catching up to me, but Woven holds my arm steady.
"You alright?" she asks, gripping my forearm, presumably so that I can't hit her. I don't think anyone forgot me hitting Shuttle after my Games. She's probably right to do it.
"Thought you were a mutt," I mumble, pulling my arm loose from her grip. Rubbing my face to wake up properly, my eyes squint shut at the bright sunlight that's streaming through the window I'm in. Woof isn't anywhere that I can see, but my back is stiff and my head hurts from pressing against the glass, so I must have stayed here all night.
"Not a mutt," Woven says. "How are you feeling?"
"Terrible." There's no way I can feel fine, so why ask? Iry's dead. Gone. Drowned. And it's my fault that it happened. I doubt I'll ever feel fine again.
"It's all over, so we can go home in a few hours," Woven continues.
"The Games?"
"They finished early this morning. Corinna told me that it was a horrible finale."
"She was here?" I ask, confused.
"No, she called me a half hour ago. Her girl got a knife in the neck less than an hour after the faces went up, then the rest followed soon after that."
I'm just happy I didn't have to see it. Some small part of me is whispering that Iry couldn't have won against the Careers; that they would have killed her in a more painful way than drowning, but the rest of me is screaming that she could have won; that she could be with me right now and I would never have to let her go again. I could have kept her safe like Shuttle and Woven did for me, because if Iry was victor, there would be nobody else the Capitol could hurt. Deecey can't be reaped, and Eli is a long way from being eligible. The Capitol would have forgotten, and we could have moved on.
"Who won?" I ask hollowly. It doesn't really matter to me who won, because the victor wasn't Iry, but I do want to know. I want to know who was unlucky enough to win the life of a victor. Do they even know what being a victor will mean for them?
"The girl from 3. Astrid. She killed her own district partner in the end." Woven shakes her head. "Her district won't like that."
District partners. Dead. Fletcher. Iry. They blend together in my head until I can't tell them apart, and it hurts too much to try and separate them. Cold arenas; snow covered sand. Blood in the sand. I work my fingernails down onto my scalp, trying to ward the arena off. I don't want to see it, don't want to go back-
Golden horn in the snow; blood all around it. Calypso with her ruined face; I killed her, I killed her, I killed her…
"She should have been the victor," I moan, digging my nails deeper through my hair, curling forward while my stiff back protests, until my forehead is pressed into my knees. Woven rubs my back and I flinch. Too many mutts; too many dead tributes.
"Who should have been?" she asks gently, taking her hand away.
"Calypso. I didn't mean to kill her."
"But you did. Just like I killed the last tribute in my Games, and Shuttle did in hers, and Woof did in his. That's how you become a victor."
"Don't you think I know that?" I snap, wrenching my head up so I can see Woven frowning.
"You're not talking like yourself. Let's get you up so you can get ready for the train ride home," she says, holding her hand out. I don't take it.
"I don't want to go back," I whisper, then bury my face back in my knees, where the soft blanket from my bed is still resting, and keep my hands firmly on my head. The pain from my fingernails digging into my scalp is keeping me from disappearing into my frozen arena altogether, and I don't want to go back. Don't let me go back, Woven.
"We're done here, Terra. We can go home."
"Iry's dead," I choke out, fighting back the tears that are threatening to overwhelm me. "I don't want to go home without her."
"I know," Woven says, and her voice breaks. "I know, Terra. But we have to go home anyway."
"I don't want to go home," I repeat, even though I know I sound like a child.
"They don't care what we want," Woven says bitterly, and I know she's right. The Capitol has never cared what we want; if they did, there would be no Games, no victors, and no dead sisters.
"Come on, time to get up," she continues, pulling my hands away from my head and holding tight to them. "Onto the couch, and I'll go get us all something to drink."
I don't have the fight in me to refuse, so I let her help me up onto my clumsy legs and pull me over to the soft couch a few feet away. It's easier to do what Woven wants me to do than to sit and drown in the window.
That child part of my head thinks that maybe that if I do everything that anyone asks me to do, then Iry will come back. It's because I didn't follow the rules that she died, so maybe if I follow them all, she'll be alive again. The rest of me knows that it's impossible, but I can't shake that slight bit of hope. I haven't seen Iry since she drowned, so maybe she did escape. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe.
"Good morning." I jump and swivel around in my seat to see Shuttle standing in the hallway, her hair messy on one side, dark circles under her eyes. A picture appears in my head of her kneeling next to my bed with her hand outstretched, and I feel guilty.
"I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry." I shouldn't have left her on the floor like that. Selfish; thinking only of myself.
"Nothing to be sorry for," Shuttle says, rubbing her arm. "I woke up and saw you were gone, and I heard Woof talking out here. I figured you were with him."
"He stayed with me."
An awkward pause falls between us. I don't know what to say, and I don't think she does either. Words can't describe everything that's happened.
"Woven told me the Games are over," I blurt out.
"Girl from 3, right?"
"Astrid," I agree, remembering her name. "She was the redhead, wasn't she?"
"Yeah." Shuttle rubs her arm again, looking uncertain, then says, "How are you doing?"
I almost laugh. How am I doing? To be honest, I have no idea. "I don't know."
Without saying another word, Shuttle crosses the gap between us and wraps me up in a hug, and I hug her back just as tightly. I need her, I need them all, and I'm so glad that Shuttle's here with me. Nothing's going to fix the gaping hole that Iry's left, but I can't handle it by myself. I need my mentors.
"Don't leave me," I whisper, the child part of me taking over again.
"Staying with you," Shuttle replies, gently stroking my hair. "All of us."
Woof's words come back to me, swimming up through a haze of darkness and grief. "We're a team, right?"
"Of course." Shuttle pulls away and looks me dead in the eyes. "We're victors. Nobody else understands. So we're going to get through this together."
I nod. Together. But Iry would have been a part of our victor group too, and the sharp stabbing pain attacks my middle again, taking my breath away. If another tribute had killed her, I could have hated them, focused all my grief and loathing on them and their district, but I can't. So all I can do is hate the Capitol, which is a pointless exercise, since we all hate this city and the people in it. The Capitol is too general to hate properly. The Gamemaker that started the wave. I'll hate them instead. And by extension, the president.
I hate the whole Capitol and what they stand for.
"You're up, Shuttle," Woven says, coming in with two mugs in her hands.
"Barely," Shuttle replies, reaching for the mug that Woven hands to her.
"You two take these; I'll get the others for Woof and me," Woven says, then starts to walk back towards the dining room before adding, "Train leaves in two hours."
"Lucky us," Shuttle mutters into her cup. I just stare down at my cup, dark blue and shiny, and filled with some sort of dark brown liquid. I'm assuming it's coffee, and in any case I don't want to drink anything, let alone this. But Shuttle's watching me out of her corner of her eye, and she's not going to let me off this easy. So I take a sip and almost burst into tears.
It's not coffee. It's hot chocolate. The drink that Iry loved while she was here in the Capitol. I can almost see her grinning on the seat next to me, a mug in her hands. Her hair in the braids that I always did for her, black hair in braids-
"I can't drink this," I mutter, setting the mug down on the low table in front of me and pushing it away as far as I can. I'll be sick if I drink it, I know I will. Shuttle looks at me, her mug halfway to her mouth, but she doesn't say anything.
"All up and ready to go?" Woof says, coming into the living room from the hall. I'm honestly surprised at how put together he looks; better than the other three of us anyway. He's actually combed his hair for once, while Woven's still in pajamas, Shuttle's hair is a mess, and I just spent the night in a window. None of us are ready to get on a train, least of all me.
District 8 is going to have too many memories that will drown me.
"Nice try," Shuttle says, wrapping her hands around her mug.
"Might want to try a comb," Woof says, and Shuttle rolls her eyes.
"Good to see you figured out how to use one. And we've got a couple hours before they want us there."
"Here," Woven says, coming back in and handing a red mug off to Woof. "It's better coffee than what they have down in the Hall."
"We lowly district people don't need the good coffee, do we now?" Woof says sarcastically. He takes a sip and grimaces. "Capitol can make a lot of things, but they can't make a good coffee."
"They seem to like it," Woven says, shrugging.
"Come on, it's not that bad," Shuttle adds.
"You go ahead and think that then," Woof says, taking another swallow of coffee; abruptly, he chokes and splutters it all over himself and the floor.
Shuttle jumps and leans back towards me, out of his reach. "What the hell, Woof? If you don't like it, don't drink it."
Woof shakes his head and wipes his mouth with one hand, while gesturing towards the doors with the other, nearly sloshing coffee out again. "Elevator," he chokes out as Woven pounds him on the back. It's almost funny, but just the thought of what Iry would think of it and how she would laugh takes all the humor out of the moment for me. But Woof's right; somebody's coming up the elevator, and the light is for our floor.
"If it is that goddamn escort, I'll break his nose again," Woof says, eyebrows furrowed together, as his choking subsides. "Stop hitting me."
"Stop choking," Woven says back, and pounds him one more time on the back for good measure. Next to me, Shuttle's combing through her hair frantically, trying to make it more presentable, while I can see Woven shaking out her pajama bottoms. There's no point in me doing anything. I'm still in the clothes I wore last night, which are also the same clothes I stayed in for days in the Viewing Hall. I'm wrinkled and tired and creased, and there's just no point.
The elevator dings just as Shuttle mutters, "I swear if it's him," but it's not. It's nobody Capitol in fact. It's Corinna and Elm from District 7. Why are they here?
"Don't mean to drop in unannounced," Elm says; Corinna's by his side and looking unusually solemn. Of course she is. She lost her tribute last night.
"No, no, come in," Woven says, waving them forward.
"Take a seat, we're all friends again," Woof adds, taking another grimacing sip from his coffee.
"Coffee?" Woven asks, gesturing to her cup. "It's better than what they have in the Hall." Woof snorts, but she ignores him.
"Yes, yes please," Corinna says, brightening. "But don't trouble yourself."
"It's the Capitol; when do they ever trouble themselves?" Woven says wryly, turning to go.
"The Avoxes downstairs handle almost everything," Elm says, hands open like he's going to shrug. "If the Capitol offers them, who are we to say no?"
"We don't call on ours much," Shuttle says. "It feels wrong."
"I'll be back," Woven promises, then leaves the rest of us alone to stare at each other. Woof's not one for starting up conversation, Elm and Corinna don't seem up for small talk, and I'm not going to start anything. So I'm counting on Shuttle. True to my hopes, Shuttle sets her cup down and gets the conversation rolling.
"What brings you two up here? I'm happy to see both of you before we go back, but we don't usually see anyone after the end."
Elm clears his throat a few times, but doesn't seem to know how to begin. Corinna, eyes brimming with tears, clasps her hands tightly together in her lap. "Oh, Terra, I'm just so sorry about your sister. We both are. And we just couldn't go back to 7 without giving you our condolences."
I have to admit, this catches me off guard, and it drives a sharp and unexpected pain through my middle. Corinna always asked after Iry in the Hall, but I thought it was just friendliness. Being polite. I didn't think she actually cared, but I assumed it was every district for their own. But this, both Corinna and Elm, and Mags too, caring for my sister- it means something. And I feel like I've gotten back at the Capitol in a way.
"Thank you," I say, but it comes out as a whisper. The tears are threatening to make an appearance again, and I don't want to cry in front of them.
"I was sorry to hear about your girl," Shuttle says, and I say a silent thank you to her. My words won't work.
Corinna takes a shuddery breath in and swipes her sleeve across her eyes. "She was a sweetheart. A real pleasure to have. They both were. But Elowyn- best girl we've had, wasn't she Elm?" When Elm nods sadly, she continues, "Both her and her sister. I remember her from- what was it? Two years back?"
"Beautiful girls," Elm says, shaking his head. "2 got Elowyn. Nothing we could do."
"You did your best. That's all we can do," Shuttle says. Corinna wipes her eyes again, and I can see tears in Elm's eyes too. An awkward pause falls over the room; any other time we could have talked and laughed and said other things, but the weight of so much loss is too heavy for that. My words have been stolen by that wave too.
"Here you go," Woven says, breaking the tension by handing off two more coffee mugs. "Capitol's best." Woof snorts again. "And if you don't like it, Woof, don't drink it."
"Coffee's coffee in my opinion," Elm says.
"So who else did you invite to our little breakfast party?" Woof asks, eyeing the elevator. The light's on 8 again, which means we have more company coming.
"Nobody, why?" Corinna asks, her hands wrapped tightly around her mug. We victors ought to have won the record for the amount of hot drinks we've drank during the past week.
"Elevator's here."
The doors slide smoothly open, and a woman I vaguely recognize steps out. Early forties, I'd say; red hair that goes down her back in waves. She has a slightly dazed and confused look on her face, but when she sees Woven she lights up.
"Woven!" she says in a higher pitched voice than I'm expecting. If Iry had met her, she would have said she was like a mouse, I think. Iry…
Woven smiles too, and that smile makes her look years younger. "Kress, what are you doing here?"
"I came, I came because of the little girl," Kress says, a puzzled but still sweet expression crossing her face. Another stab to my middle. Little girl. Iry. But I don't even know Kress.
"Terra, Kress Willowtree. District 5," Woven says, introducing her to me. "She won the year after me."
That's why I don't know her; District 5 went out on the first day, both of them, and the mentors were sent back up to their apartments I suppose. Like us.
"I saw about your sister," Kress says softly. "They mentioned it. And we don't get relatives in the Games very often, so it was really awful. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you," I say. "Thank you. For caring about Iry."
"She was just little!" Kress says with a nervous laugh. I'm getting the impression that she isn't all there, but she's nice and Woven seems to like her, so that's good enough for me. And she cared for Iry too.
Woven gets Kress settled on the couch next to Shuttle with a cup of tea just as the elevator doors open again, this time for Lexa from District 6 and her two other victors, the morphling addicts Woof mentioned in passing. Both of them are dark haired, with yellowish skin and dazed eyes, but the woman waves at me.
"Came for the girl," Lexa says, nodding at me. "Couldn't leave without paying my respects, and I thought it was a good idea to get these two away from Fabian."
"Didn't want to come up?" Shuttle asks, raising her eyebrow. As if Fabian would come see us.
"After the boy went, Fabian got into the bottle and hasn't stopped." Lexa shrugs. "Happens every year. Victor or no victor. Terra, terrible thing about your sister. All my best to you."
"Thanks," I say, then I get distracted by the woman morphling addict who's sitting down on the table in front of me, pulling at my hand.
"Sorry, she likes to paint on people," Lexa says, starting to pull her away, but I stop her.
"No, it's okay."
"Tea or coffee, Lexa?" Woven asks, getting up from the couch edge she's been sitting on.
"Coffee, please."
"What about Orna and Jass?"
"They don't drink hot stuff," Lexa says, jerking her head towards the woman I'm assuming is Orna. Woven nods and heads off to the dining room again for what's probably the fifth trip at this point. Meanwhile, Orna has my hand in hers and she's swirling her fingers around my palm until I can almost see the flower I think she's painting on me.
Woof starts up a conversation I can't hear with Elm and Corinna, while Shuttle, Kress, and Lexa talk together. I just keep my focus on Orna, and throw glances at her partner, Jass, who's standing by the windows and just watching us all with dead eyes. What was it that Woof said about them? Hopeless. That's what he called them.
Woven hands Lexa her cup, and the elevators open again. Woof shoots me a look, and I can almost hear him saying, "What now?" For a second I have a stomach dropping moment where I think it's going to be Postumius, but it's not. Instead, it's Seeder, who I haven't seen since she yelled at Fabian after her Nell died.
"I was hoping I wasn't intruding, but I don't think I am," she says, glancing around the room at the couches full of victors.
"Of course you're not, come in," Woven says, waving Seeder over to a chair nearby.
"How are you doing?" Shuttle asks, breaking away from her conversation with Kress and Lexa to look at Seeder. Seeder throws her hands up and shakes her head.
"Got to move on. Nell's dead, so's Lotem, and you just can't linger on it. She was a little gem, that one, and the boy was a gentleman. But Lexa, if you'll excuse me for saying this," she says, looking at Lexa.
"Go ahead."
"I was glad to see the last of that boy of yours." Seeder's eyes grow hard and shiny, like she's daring Lexa to dispute it, but Lexa just gives a half laugh.
"The boy was a little ass, and the only reason he got so far was because of it, and because Fabian's one too." Shuttle laughs and covers her mouth, but Lexa and Seeder join in. "The girl, she was sweet, but she never could have made it far," Lexa continues, and shrugs. "Better luck next year."
"But Terra," Seeder says, turning to me. "Your sister, what a terrible loss for you. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you. Thank you all for coming," I say, my words finally starting to work again.
"It's the least we can do."
The elevator doors open again on victors I recognize by sight, but who I've never talked to; Isaac from 10, the tall and grey one Shuttle said didn't talk a lot, and Ripple from 9, who's taller and broader than anyone else in the room. Neither of them comes over immediately; instead they gravitate towards Woof and Elm, and get lost in conversation with them.
"They don't like tricky situations," Shuttle mutters in my ear.
"Why are they here?" I whisper back. Why do they all care about Iry so much?
"Because of you. Because of Iry. She was young, and I have a feeling a lot of them were gunning for her after their tributes went."
"Why?"
"Because she was your sister," Shuttle says, shrugging. That one simple word, was, catches me in the chest. Iry isn't an is anymore, she's a was. It hurts to think of her that way.
Somebody taps me on the shoulder and I jump, barely stopping myself from striking out at them. I hate being crept up on, and it hasn't gone away in five years.
"Sorry," she says; it's Silver from District 1. I didn't even notice her come in, but she's there behind me, with Victoria Fieldman from District 2. The really tall one that I met on my Victory Tour. I wasn't expecting Career district victors to come here, and I suppose most of them didn't. But my respect just grew for these two. Maybe some victors out of District 2 aren't bloodthirsty monsters.
"We can't stay long," Silver says, her eyes flitting about the room. From the few times I've met her and all the times I've seen her on television, I've noticed that she always looks hunted. She's in her fifties, but she's still beautiful, in my opinion. "But we both wanted to give our condolences to you. All of you really," she continues, gesturing towards Shuttle.
"Thanks, Silver," Shuttle says, answering for me.
"I hope we'll see you here next year," Victoria says, patting my head. "We need all the victors we can get. Intimidate the feathery fools, mmm?"
"Okay," I get out, and manage a smile at the two of them. They're Careers, but I like them all the same. In the end, they're victors, just like us, aren't they? The arena changed us all, no matter where we're from.
"See you next year!" Victoria calls, marching past the rest of our company, raising one hand in a wave.
Half of them raise their cups and call back, "Have a good year, Vicky! You too, Silver!" It's almost funny to hear Victoria, tall and imposing like a queen, being called 'Vicky.' Iry would have thought it funny too, and that familiar stab guts me again. It's like I'm being poked with a knife every few minutes.
When my mother died, I was too busy with Iry to grieve like this, and the same for when my father died. Everything carried on, and I couldn't stop to think about it. Now, time has frozen, and Iry is all I can think about.
Shuttle squeezes my arm, and that helps bring me back and get air into me again. Orna smiles and whispers, "Pretty flowers for you." I smile back at her. I don't think she's hopeless. I think she's a little broken, like me.
Victoria goes to press the elevator button, but the doors open before she can. "Silver, Victoria," the woman inside says respectfully, and then I'm filled with relief. It's Mags. Somehow, I feel like she'll make it all right for me, because that's the kind of feeling she carries around her.
"Mags, good to see you again!" Ripple calls out, raising up his dark red mug of something hot.
"Same to you, Ripple," Mags says, smiling, then she weaves her way through the crowd towards me. Orna smiles when she sees her, but keeps swirling those flowers around and around my palm.
"Terra," Mags says, sitting down next to me and taking the hand that Orna isn't currently painting on. "This must be terrible for you."
I nod, my throat closing up with tears; if I don't say something, I'm going to choke. "Your boy. I'm sorry he didn't make it. I wanted him to, after Iry."
Mags rubs her face and nods. "I've seen thirty years of boys like him, and they're all the same, unfortunately. They believe nothing can kill them until it does, and it's always a surprise. But I wanted him to win; he would have made a good victor. I liked him."
"It's easier to die as a tribute than to live as victor," I tell her, repeating her words back to her that I've been telling myself for days.
"And that's the way it's been since the beginning," Mags agrees, patting my hand.
"Then is it a good thing Iry's dead?" I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper. Mags frowns and shakes her head.
"No. What happened to your sister, that was a tragedy. What happened to all of them, tragedies."
My breath keeps catching in my chest, but I force myself to keep breathing anyway. "You told me that she would surprise me. She did. But she wasn't the same girl at the end, was she?" Iry's eyes, dark and hard, those weren't my sister's eyes. But she was my sister-
I would never have gotten my Iry back, the one I knew. I know that. But it hurts all the same.
"She did well for her age," Mags says, bringing me back to the present. "And she went quietly, the best you can hope for."
"I wish she hadn't gone at all," I say bitterly.
"The ocean took her back, just as it did for my Shore and Kelpie, so that it could give its gifts back to Panem." Mags looks at me steadily, and I'm struck again by how intelligent and deep her eyes are, but pained at the same time. "You will come back to District 4 one day, and when you see the ocean, you'll see your sister returning to you. She isn't gone. She's the water now, and the power behind it."
I can't hold the tears away any longer, even though I try to choke them back, but nobody else seems to notice. Just Mags and Shuttle and Orna, who stops painting and squeezes my hand instead. Mags takes my other hand, and Shuttle turns away from her conversation to lean her head on my shoulder.
I'm surrounded by people who liked and loved Iry, and I don't know if it makes the pain better or worse. Maybe both. But Iry's not going to be forgotten, like all the other tributes this year. Five years from now, nobody except the district that mentored them will be able to recall who participated in the Forty-First Games. But I don't think they'll forget Iry. Because of me.
"You'll need time," Mags says quietly. "A pearl isn't made in a day, and a wound heals even slower. But you will heal. We all do in the end."
"Maybe some things don't heal," Shuttle says quietly, and Mags shakes her head.
"Some scars are deeper than others, and they'll always hurt when you press on them. But the scar gives you the memory, doesn't it?"
Shuttle laughs shortly and unexpectedly. "Then I wish some of mine would hurry up and fade."
"One day," Mags says, and her words are so certain that I know she has to be telling the truth. Orna squeezes my hand again, then returns to making the swooping flower like motions across my palm. I don't mind her, not really. And she's obviously so fragile that I can't not like her.
"If you need to talk," Mags says, looking at me again, "I would enjoy receiving a call from you."
"Isn't that against the rules?"
"Not technically," Shuttle says, leaning against me again. "Corinna calls me sometimes and nobody raises a fuss about it."
"If you need me," Mags repeats, pressing my hand between both of hers, "Call me. I will answer."
"Thank you," I whisper. I must have said thank you twenty times in the last hour, but I really have meant them all. To everyone here.
"We don't have anything to lose, now do we?" Mags adds with a grin, and I can see her funny side peering through. I'd like to know her so much better. Maybe I will call her and damn the Capitol for what they think. They can't hurt me anymore. I can't hurt worse than I do today.
"Mags?" I ask quietly.
"Yes?"
"Thank you for helping her. With the sword."
"How could I not?" Mags says, and takes my face in her hands. "I could not let a young girl die unarmed like so many I've seen die before. Let them go quietly into the night and water, and give them peaceful deaths instead of painful ones."
"What's the time, Shuttle?" Lexa asks.
"I have no idea. Who has a watch?" Shuttle asks, looking around, but nobody's listening. Jass glances over our way and, surprisingly enough, pulls out an ancient looking watch on a chain.
"Five after nine," he says in a higher pitched voice than I thought he would have.
"Not what I was hoping," Lexa says with a sigh. "Train leaves at ten."
"I'm afraid I should go," Mags says, frowning. "We mustn't miss the train. Kitty, our escort, she dislikes us being late anywhere."
"Terra broke our escort's nose," Shuttle says with pride. "That finally got rid of him. We've been trying for seven years."
"Well done," Lexa says, and laughs. "That incompetent idiot, I've seen him around the Capitol. Is he fired or transferred?"
"Woof said he was transferred," I say, and Lexa rolls her eyes.
"I'll never forgive you if you've passed him off to us."
"I doubt it; they usually go down a district or two if they're really awful," Shuttle says.
"Then a toast to District 12's new escort," Lexa says, raising her now empty mug. "Or some other unfortunate district."
"I would like to see Aulus or Fabian have him for a year," Mags says, grinning.
"I'd put up with him for that, actually," Lexa says. "Must be going. Orna, stop painting and let's go."
"Bye," Orna says quietly, paints one last flower, and stands up next to Lexa.
"Good luck, and see you next summer," Lexa says, shaking my hand.
"See you," I tell her, and I actually smile.
"Jass, let's go!" Lexa calls, and obediently he follows after her to the elevator. The other victors see them going, and it seems to spark the realization that they should be leaving too.
Isaac comes over uncomfortably and scratches his head. "Sorry about your sister," he mumbles, nods, and walks quickly towards the elevator doors.
"Don't run, Isaac!" Shuttle calls, and he looks back with a flicker of a smile. "He beats everyone for being quiet," she says to the rest of us.
"See you, see you in July again," Kress says, standing up and reaching over Shuttle to pat my hair. "Bye."
"Bye," I tell her. I like Kress too; I like everyone in this room. They liked Iry too, so there's no way to hate them.
"Oh Terra, good luck this year, and we're so sorry again," Corinna says, rushing over and throwing her arms around me, which is unexpected.
"Let the girl go, Corinna," Elm says from the other side of the room.
"Sorry, sorry," Corinna says, but she's smiling a little when she says it. "Take care, and see you next year!" She throws her arms around Shuttle next, who seems to be a little more prepared.
"Don't forget to call me this year," Shuttle says, slightly muffled. "Don't be a stranger, Corinna."
"I won't be, I promise," Corinna says.
"Let's go, Cori!" Elm says louder, and Corinna rolls her eyes. "Take care, Terra!"
"Thank you," I reply, and it's louder than the other thanks I've gotten out. Somehow having them all here has made me feel better, even if it's the slightest amount. It's distracted me, at least, and I've stopped crying for the moment.
While Elm and Corinna wait for the elevator, Ripple from 9 comes over and kneels in front of me, avoiding the table behind him. Gently, he takes my hand. "Your sister," he starts, then has to take a breath. "Your sister, she reminded me of a little girl I mentored during your Games. I'm so sorry you've lost her."
"Thanks, Ripple," I whisper, and Ripple nods with a faint smile.
"Take care," he says, and then he's gone too, headed for the elevator.
"All my love," Seeder adds, kissing me on the forehead as she stands up. "And all my best too."
"You too, Seeder."
"I have to go," Mags says beside me. I don't want her to go, but her train won't wait for her. The Capitol has to keep things on schedule no matter what.
"Thank you for everything," I tell her, and she smiles at me, a real smile.
"It was the least of anything I could do," she says, and pulls me into a tight hug. I hug her back just as tightly, until she releases me.
"Is she safe?" she asks Shuttle, and she looks fierce.
"I think so. It's been five years; they would have called her before now," Shuttle says, and she looks incredibly serious.
"Good. Keep her safe, do you hear?"
"I will. We will," Shuttle answers. "We all will."
"Then we will talk soon," Mags says standing up. She's not tall, but she seems to be much taller because of the way she carries herself. "Take care of each other; there's a rough road ahead of you."
"We'll do our best," Shuttle says, and shakes Mags hand. The victor from District 4 leans forward and places a cool kiss on my forehead.
"Remember," she whispers. "She's free flowing water now. I'll let her know you'll see her soon."
I can't speak. All I can do is hug Mags again, and then she's gone, through the elevator doors and down to her apartments below.
Woof, Woven, and Shuttle all look at each other, then look at me. The room is too quiet without the others talking and filling it up, and I don't think we know what to say to each other now. But I surprise myself by speaking first.
"I didn't know they cared," I say, then the pain wraps around my middle and tries to drag me down again. Without the others' distraction, all I can think about is Iry disappearing under that dark water and not coming up again.
My Iry is dead and drowned.
"We lose our tributes every year," Woven starts, and her voice cracks. "But relatives are special. And especially when they're young like Iry-" She cuts off and can't continue. Woof, eyebrows furrowed together, walks over to Woven and pats her shoulder awkwardly.
"Victors aren't heartless. Not all of us," he says. "Except for District 2. They can go to hell."
"Except for Victoria," Shuttle points out, and Woof tilts his head, thinking.
"Vic's alright."
"Terra," Shuttle says, turning to me now while I'm still fighting off the wave of grief and pain. "We have to get to the train. Time to go home."
Home. Where memories of Iry are going to drown me. Where Deecey and her family are going to be waiting. Where the eyes of everyone in District 8 are going to be pitying me.
"Ready to go?"
Am I ready? No. I'll never be ready. But I know I don't have a choice. The Capitol carries on no matter if my sister is dead or not. They've forgotten her already.
"Okay."