Chapter 64- Astrid Clearwater
The trees are blurred, but when I look behind us, I can see them clearly. They seem to rush away from the train, retreating from me watching them, instead of this train passing them by and leaving them behind. It's foolish to think of the trees, but it's easier than thinking on everything else I've left behind.
Under my feet, the floor does another swoop, and I have to place my hand on the cool glass window to steady myself. It doesn't matter now; nobody can see me. They can't watch me forever, because by next year they will have forgotten me. The glass is warming up under my hand; the Capitol attendants won't be pleased about having to clean my handprints off their crystal-clear windows. Frankly I don't care about them either.
Somewhere off in the distance I can see signs of another district; probably 9 or 8. Once I see the river, I know I'll be almost back in District 3; the journey shouldn't take long. Maybe tomorrow morning, or even by tonight I'll be home.
"Enjoying the scenery?"
I whip around and have to press my back against the window to keep from falling over. I won't show any weakness to him either.
"Bit of a downgrade from the Capitol." Shiny, shiny thoughts that I have to collect together again. A pause. "We need to talk."
"Yes," Beetee says, adjusting his glasses, "I believe we do."
The dining table is right here, so I get myself into a chair and fold my hands on top of the smooth, dark wood. Beetee takes the seat opposite mine and looks at me expectantly.
There's no point in dodging the topic. "Who did you choose, Beetee?"
Beetee cracks a smile. "Neither of you."
"What do you mean neither of us?"
"You both had large amounts of potential, whether you knew it about the other or not. And you had an equal chance at the crown, as was evident in the finale. You were both in the final two. Either way, we would have brought home a victor this year."
I shouldn't be, I really shouldn't be, but I'm shocked by his detachment from the whole thing. We were dying, we were killing and nearly being killed, and wounded, and he just sat up in the Capitol looking at us like we were one of his experiments? That we were nothing but a theory to be proved?
"So you didn't care about either of us," I say measuredly.
"I cared," he says, fiddling with his glasses again. "But the fact is, one must be realistic if one is to be a mentor. You will learn it, too."
"I won't play games with my tributes; they'll already be in their own. Do you have any idea, Beetee, how much I wondered who you had chosen? If you had chosen Circuit over me, and were willing to let me die?"
"I helped you both," he says, still in that tone I can only attribute to Beetee. "Perhaps you more than him. But you needed more help."
"I didn't need any help," I snap. "I could have won with or without you."
He raises one eyebrow. "Must I mention the beach?"
"I could have outlived them."
"I sent you food, and I sent you the medicine that saved your life. There were no other funds to spend."
"What about Elowyn and Tilling's sponsors? Where were they?"
"Non existent I'm afraid," Beetee says, leaning back in his chair. "It was a lean year for sponsors, and the girl from 9 did not pull many."
"Elowyn said her mentor had lots lined up."
"Ah, Elm. The eternal bluffer." Beetee chuckles, which only infuriates me further. "He had maybe three sponsors, and it was difficult to convince him to pool our funds to send you your medicine. I have no doubt he regretted it later, but I do not."
"You said that the girl from 8 and Elowyn would pull the most sponsors," I say, that memory floating to the surface unexpectedly. He said it only a few weeks ago, but it might as well have been three months ago.
"I am able to be wrong," he says, "I am not all knowing. The girl from 8 did gain the most funds, usurping most of the Career districts. But the sponsors were not careless with their money this year."
"What about Circuit? Why did you help him at all? You knew he was deranged; you knew that he wasn't the boy he pretended to be. So why push him towards the crown?"
"You will discover in the next few years that many tributes are not what they seem. And a great deal are clever and secretive as well."
Why do I care so much about Beetee's approval? I shouldn't care at all; he essentially abandoned me to kill Circuit, and just watched to prove his theory about us. But some soft part in me that I haven't hardened yet is begging for him to like me, to tell me I was the better tribute. It's growing brittle, but it isn't solid rock yet. And I have to be stone.
"Were you pleased when I won?" I ask finally. I have to know.
"Very," he says, moving his glasses up again. "I was extremely pleased for one of my tributes to make it out alive. You are my first, after all."
"And would you have been as pleased if it was Circuit who came out of the arena alive?" My thoughts are locked in completely, even though the pressure of my headache is making my eyes feel as though they will explode at any moment.
Beetee just smiles at me, and that familiar fury flares up inside me. I am not a child to be spoken down to; I am not a fool. I deserve to know what is going on inside my mentor's head, because I am a victor too. "What answer would you like me to say?" he asks.
"The truth, Beetee. I'm done with the lies and the secrets. I'm a victor, and your equal," I say, my voice rising at the end.
"And it is the truth you are wanting?"
"Just say it."
Beetee fiddles his fingers together for a moment, evidently trying to decide what to say. I saw the pride in his eyes when I got out the of the arena, but I want to know if he would have had the same pride for Circuit. Circuit who is dead and gone, but whose wire I can still feel wrapped around my throat.
"Just say it, Beetee."
"No. Circuit would not have made a good victor," he says finally, and that small brittle place inside of me smooths out slightly.
"But I will?"
"We will see, won't we?" Beetee is studying me, just as I'm studying him back.
"You will see. I won; I was the best in the arena. District 3 will thank me for what I did for them."
"You are desperate for their approval," Beetee says.
"No. I'm not." But I don't know if this is a lie or not. "I've managed all my life while they hated me. Now they know I can kill, and I'm stronger than they will ever be."
"You killed their tribute. What will they think then?"
"I killed Circuit because you orchestrated it that way!" I shout, pushing my chair back and standing up, gripping the table until my knuckles turn white. "You weren't in that jungle; you don't know what it was like! You, you never had to kill anyone face to face, you just rigged a wire and killed them without looking them in the eyes."
"And yet I am here on this train, looking at you," he says calmly, still studying me. "Have you considered that all victors have killed?"
"There's no other way to win," I snap. "If you're a victor, you're a murderer. Plain and simple."
"Perhaps, if you see it that way, but one must also consider the divide between using one's mind and using brute force."
"I'm not stupid, Beetee." The nausea is back, but I force myself to keep looking at Beetee, because after all of this, I'm not letting him know that I'm still hurt. And even if he does know, I'm going to prove him wrong.
"I have never said you were," he says, still infuriatingly calmly. "I did not orchestrate your final moments in the arena, as you have said I did; I simply recognized that you both had the same chance to make it into the final five. I did not entirely suspect that you would be the final two, but I was not surprised in the end either."
"So you just let us fight it out, and you didn't care which one of us lived and which died."
"You are putting words into my mouth that do not belong there. I did not choose between the two of you, as I have said before, and nor would I have in those final moments. You had both reached the point I had suspected you would, and the only thing to do was watch and see if my final expectations were correct."
"What were your expectations? No fancy words, just tell me."
Beetee maneuvers his glasses back up his nose, and smiles at me again, knowingly, like I should understand exactly what he means by it. I can read him, I can still read him, and I can see that flicker of pride in his eyes again, but I still don't know exactly what he means.
"I believed you would emerge the victor between the two of you."
"Why?"
"You had your sanity at the end, did you not?" he asks, raising one eyebrow again. "You were the stronger of the two of you, and dare I say, brighter? A touch of arrogance, but in the end it propelled you to that hovercraft out of the arena."
"I am not arrogant."
"I theorized that your pride would either end with your cannon, or with your opponent's. I was very pleased that it was the former."
"I should be proud; I outlasted everyone else in that arena. I lived, they didn't," I say.
"But at a price," Beetee says, sounding like he's about to teach a lesson that I don't want to hear about. "Even if you don't know the cost now, you will eventually."
"Stop talking in riddles," I say, teeth gritted, still tightly holding onto the table to keep from falling over. I've lost my balance, I've lost everything. And my thoughts are starting to fragment out again. I don't want to be left with nothing, opposing Beetee.
"To begin with, I know how injured your head is," he says, starting the lesson.
"It's not. I'm fine."
"A concussion is nothing to play with," he continues, like he didn't hear me. "And will make you more vulnerable. Fortunately, the worst will have passed by your Victory Tour."
"Why does that matter?" Keep talking, just keep talking, because I'm losing my mind again.
Beetee pulls his glasses down and peers at me over them, before setting them back into place. "The Capitol does not release its victims so easily."
"It released you."
"Ah, but I have made myself indispensable."
"So help me make myself indispensable."
He chuckles. "You will have to find your avenue of indispensability on your own I'm afraid."
"What's the use of you as a mentor then? I thought you were here to keep me alive and help me through everything. And you haven't ever told me the whole story."
"I don't believe you will be able to manage the whole story. You'll learn it soon enough, and when you do learn it, you will make your own choice. It's all we can do in this world."
"You don't make any sense."
"You will learn," he insists, and there's a hint of warning to his voice. "And I cannot prepare you for that choice."
"I've had enough," I say, pulling away from the table and heading towards my room down the hall.
"Astrid?" Beetee calls after me, and I pause.
"What?"
"Don't expect a warm welcome from our district."
"I don't expect anything, Beetee." With that, I storm away as best I can, down the hall and into the room I had when I was going to the Capitol after the reapings. A thousand years ago, a different girl was reaped. Now District 3 is going to get their shiny new victor with her shiny, fragmented thoughts.
I ignore the bed, choosing instead to settle myself at the window that reaches the floor here in my room. Pulling my knees up to my chin, I hug my legs and watch the world go by outside this train, trees, rocks, lakes, and districts alike.
"Astrid!" The banging on the door wakes me up, alongside the ever cheery voice of Delia Charm. "We will be arriving within the half hour!"
Instantly I'm on my feet, swaying back and forth, the pressure in my head pushing in this time, until it feels as though my temples are going to cave in. I can't catch any full thoughts, only fragments, but I don't care.
Home. District 3. Mama. Axel.
I reach the wardrobe on wobbly legs, and pull out the first items I can find. Blue long-sleeved shirt, black pants. A green wool jacket. Black shoes. Clothes that the former Astrid would have worn, a long time ago. While pulling the shirt over my head, I glance outside. Blue-grey water, rippling and rushing; the river that runs around the perimeter of District 3.
For a moment I'm back in the arena, with the tsunami waters rising and Elowyn pulling me up the hill, then I remember I'm on the train. No jungle. No rising water. Just the river, my river. It doesn't stop my shaking hands, though.
"Astrid, it's time!" Delia calls, verging into a shout. While I'm still gathering my mind together, amusement rises up inside of me at Delia's impatience. I would love to see her lose her patience altogether, that put together Capitol woman with the idiotic blue wig. I still wonder if it would melt in the rain.
As I'm leaving the room and reaching for the door handle, I hear something. What is it? It's so familiar. Oh. It's rain. In spite of myself, I grin while looking at the ceiling, then at the water spattered window. I left in the rain, and I'm coming back in it too. I've come full circle.
"Astrid!"
"I'm coming!" I shout back, my contentment at hearing the rain replaced with irritation. After this, I won't have to see Delia Charm until winter. And Beetee? I don't particularly care if I see him either.
"You must make an effort to be on time," Delia scolds when I reach her. "And you are not going out without a hat!"
"I am on time, I'm here, aren't I?" I say, while Delia stuffs a red beret on my head. After adjusting it for what feels like forever, she steps back and smiles.
"Perfect! Now, get into your places; we're pulling into the station now."
Delia tries to hide me from sight, but I can still see through the windows. The station is full of cameramen and District 3 people, none of whom look exactly happy to be there. I don't care. Today, I don't care.
"Smile, Astrid!" Delia chirps.
"I am, I am," I snap back, then notice Beetee stepping into place behind me. He kept all of his truths from me, and he's not telling me everything even now. And yet, he's the only person on this train who's slightly on my side. The Capitolites are only on their own sides, idiots who only care about themselves. There's nobody else here but Beetee and me. And maybe, just maybe, we can be allies as victors. I didn't know everything about Elowyn either. And she helped keep me alive too.
The train pulls to a stop, so gently that I don't even wobble. I can walk straight; I can step off this train and look strong. No weakness, Astrid. Behind me I can feel Delia quivering with excitement, and it's making me feel shaky. Just a few moments more, and this trip is over. Suddenly I feel ten, and I want to reach out to Beetee behind me, to have someone older and more experienced than me to lead the way. But I can't. I am the victor, and I won't let them think I'm weak. Because I'm not. I'm stone.
With a soft hissing sound, the doors slide open, and the people on the platform applaud. I can see their faces; I can tell they aren't happy to see me. But it doesn't matter, not at this moment. I'll worry about them later, and what it means for me. Because, standing in the center of the cameras and the people who still despise me, is my mother, my shining mother with the thick dark hair and sparkling brown eyes, who loves me for what I am no matter what. And my brother, who still looks confused, but brightens when he sees me, holding my mother's hand. Has he grown? Or did I just forget?
"Go, go, go!" Delia hisses in my ear, pushing me forward off the train. I smile broadly at the cameras, because I have to. I'm the victor; I am strong. I was the strongest. But it's over, the Games are over, and maybe now I can pretend they were a nightmare. That Elowyn and Tilling and Agrippina and Circuit never existed.
I smile at the cameras until I can't stand it anymore, then I run forward and throw myself into my mother's arms. I can't cry, I won't cry, but she's crying; I can feel her tears on my neck as she squeezes me so tight I think I might break.
"My daughter. My beautiful, brave daughter," Mama says into my hair, her voice breaking. "You came home."
"I promised you. I wouldn't break a promise, Mama," I say, pulling away so I can see her face. She holds my face in her hands, and for a moment, everything else disappears. The cameras, the people, Beetee, Delia. Gone, because I've come home to my mother.
"Trixie! Where were you?" It's my brother's voice that brings me back to where I am. Stepping back from Mama, I kneel down and pull Axel into a hug so tight he squeaks.
"I was in the Capitol, remember?"
"Was it pretty? Like on the television?"
"Better," I say. "I'll tell you about it later."
Around me, the people disperse, the cameras turn off and head off somewhere else in the district. "The Victory Banquet is tonight," Delia chirps, but I barely hear her. All I care about is the fact that I'm not in the arena, I'm not in the Capitol, I'm not on the train.
I'm home, no matter what it means for me.