A/N: Hey guys, I'm back! I apologize for such a long wait…RL got in the way. So…I want to thank all of you loyal & dedicated readers to sticking it out with me Don't forget to drop me a line or two and let me know what you thought. xoxoxo
Another Way Out
Chapter 14 – Don't Look Back
– Lily –
"Hey mom, what up?" My daughter's voice echoes from a pace behind me as we enter the clinic.
"Oh you know," I wave my hand nonchalantly after closing the door and sealing us in the room. "I just figured I'd steal you while I've got you here." I toss a wink over my shoulder and hope that my daughter's keen hunter instincts don't sense my nervous vibrations.
"Mom, I'm fine," Katniss sighs and rolls her eyes. Finding out what's going on with her is too important to be brushed off. Regardless of her excuses, people don't just vomit throughout the day for no apparent reason. Even if it's not what I suspect it to be, it's clear there is something wrong.
"I'm sure I'm just being paranoid, but it can't hurt to run some tests. We need to figure out why you can't keep anything down," I counter casually.
"Who told–" Katniss barks, her eyes immediately snapping to the door. "Prim," she seethes, falling back into her chair– arms crossed indignantly across her chest.
"Don't be upset with your sister, she's just worried about you. But Katniss, it's not exactly a secret," I reply with an arch of my brow.
"Oh," she concedes guiltily, shifting ever so slightly in her seat.
"It's my own fault for getting drunk with Haymitch." Katniss leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and hides her face in her hands with shame.
My lips form in a tight line as I offer her an imperceptible shake of my head, but she doesn't see me. My bones ache to comfort my daughter, so I gravitate to her side. I exhale and take a seat, then begin tracing soothing circles against Katniss's back. I'm proud of my daughter for accepting responsibility for her poor choices, but she doesn't shoulder all the blame. Haymitch never should have offered her the alcohol in the first place. Just because Katniss is a Victor doesn't mean she's no longer a child.
Once Katniss seems to have relaxed, I get up and make my way to the cabinet that houses the medical supplies.
"It was a huge mistake that I have been paying for in spades," Katniss says, and I'm thankful that I got up when I did.
I'm fumbling through the cabinets, which thankfully, blocks my crestfallen expression from Katniss's view. I only hope that drink is the reason her body is rejecting any and all nutrients. But I am not optimistic because more than enough time has lapsed to clear her system of the liquid poison. And it seems no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I cannot deny the familiarity of her symptoms.
Much too familiar for my liking.
I fumble through the cabinet for another few seconds until I find the right testing kit. It's a generic bundle we have an abundant supply of and tests for a wide range of things. Even though there is only one question I need answered, it wouldn't hurt to run the full panel.
"Part of growing up is making mistakes…so long as you learn from them." I smile softly, motioning for her hand. She extends her arm and I single out her middle finger, grasping the tip firmly before releasing. I repeat this process a few times until I'm satisfied with her capillary refill.
Katniss winces when the lancet pricks her finger. She observes me with a heightened curiosity as I collect her blood into the syringe, placing single drops onto the specified circles of the test. Once all the bubbles are filled with drops of her blood, I press the button on the timer, then turn to face her.
"Okay," I begin, hovering my pen over the paper. "Tell me what you've managed to keep down. Food, drinks, snacks, try not to leave anything out," I say.
For the first few months after I found out I was pregnant with Katniss, the only things I could keep down were fruit, crackers and bread. Or really, anything bland. I'm feeling nostalgic for a moment, remembering the saltine crackers I would find on my nightstand each morning before Dylan left for work. He was such a wonderful husband; always going out of his way to take care of me and I felt like such a horrible wife throughout both my pregnancies; simply unable to tolerate the sight or even smell of raw meat. But the perfect, amazing man my husband was, took it all in stride.
"Well, um…I guess…fruit stays down." My daughter's voice breaks me from my reverie, and I focus my attention back on her. "And bread. But not the good stuff." Katniss frowns irritably. I can tell this bothers her, probably since her favorite baked good of Peeta's are his cheese buns, which are extremely gooey, and yes, loaded with grease.
I write quickly, abbreviating most of the words so I don't chance leaving anything out. We go down the checklists; I ask questions, she answers them.
I glance at the timer; four more minutes until the results can be confirmed.
I scan the next question and squirm, but press forward. "Do you remember when you had your last cycle?" I force the words out, surprised at how steady and even my voice sounds. In the back of my head I keep telling myself this is just another patient. Each question must be asked. But the reality is that this isn't just another patient, the girl in front of me is my flesh and blood, my sweet, strong, and stubborn little girl.
I recall looking through one of my ancient Healing Textbooks and glancing across a segment about a physician's responsibilities regarding ethics. I remember how bewildering I found it that before the Dark Days, doctors and nurses (that's what they were called instead of Healers) were not permitted to treat family members. I remember feeling a stab of jealousy because here in 12, we've never been granted that luxury. Having one, maybe two healers in the entire district doesn't allow a lot of room to be picky.
As I suspected, Katniss's entire face, all the way to the tips of her ears, darkens to a near crimson shade, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.
"I…I don't know. I-I've never had regular cycles, you know that," she snaps at me defensively.
"Katniss, honey," I begin, trying to channel my 'inner-cool-mom'. "I might've been born at night, but it wasn't last night," I arch my brow, repeating the words I'd once heard my own mother recite. "I know you and Peeta had a toasting." I'm surprised by the shock in Katniss's eyes, having thought that Peeta told Katniss that Prim and I knew. "If you recall, I too, not so long ago, was married. So, and I'm not trying to embarrass you, but I know what married people do behind closed doors." I move in a little closer to my daughter, applying a gentle pressure to her arm. "As oblivious as I may seem, I'm not completely delusional. And now that you're…er…sexually active, it's important that you pay closer attention to your cycles."
With a beet red face, she simply nods; too afraid–or embarrassed to speak. "Have you guys been…safe?" I ask her, unable to bring myself to say the actual words. It's in this moment that I realize why those doctors and nurses weren't allowed to care for their own family members.
Katniss nods again, her lips trembling for the courage to speak. "Can I ask…what you're um…using?"
She opens and closes her mouth several times like a fish out of water, but no words come out.
I need to say, or do something to pry her out of this shell. I'm so lost right now, so completely helpless without my husband here to help me navigate through these uncertain waters. He would know exactly the right words to say to our daughter, even in a situation such as this one, and in a way that would put her at ease, relaxed and without embarrassment. I know as her mother it should have been me who had that type of relationship with her, but I never once envied their bond. In fact, I was alway grateful for the connection they shared.
'Relax Lil, and just talk to her,' are the encouraging words of advice I imagine Dylan would offer to me, if he were here. But I really, truly have no idea what to say. It's not like my parents ever—
And just like that, I know exactly what to say.
I inch my chair even closer to Katniss, so that our knees our bumping and rest my hand on her forearm. I lock my gaze with hers and let the words flow freely from my heart. "Katniss honey, there's no judgment here, okay?" My parents were uptight, judgemental, hostile, and the complete opposite of supportive. And I know that for Katniss to open up to me, she needs to know that I'm here for her. That she can tell me anything and I won't judge her for falling in love.
"I just need to know so we can figure out what's going on with you. You've got less than a month before…the Reaping." I pause for a second, biting the inside of my cheek, forcing a whole different type of tears to well up in my eyes. I can't believe how painful it feels Just speaking the words aloud "You need to be gaining weight, not losing it in the short time that's left, and to do that, we need to figure out why you're puking everything up."
I run my hand along her arm, hoping she receives it as a reassuring gesture. "E-Effie gave Peeta some pills for me. I take them once a month," she shrinks back, finally managing to squeak her words out.
"Wow, that woman thinks of everything, doesn't she?" I blurt out as I jot it down on the clipboard. "Do you have any left? So that I can see what it is?" I ask her, doubtful that I'd even recognize them, but curious all the same.
"Uh…yeah, I'll um…bring them by later."
"There's no rush," I tell her, pulling my reflex hammer out, and instructing Katniss to sit up straight. I tap the mallet lightly above her knees, and then her elbows, satisfied when they spasm accordingly. Next, I look into her eyes with my flashlight, then move on to checking her glands.
"OW! What are you doing? That hurts!" she shouts, pushing my hands away when I begin the breast exam.
My entire face contorts into a stiffened grimace. "How long have your breasts been tender?" I question, feeling the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck stiffen. Everything points to the obvious, and a wave of dread washes over me. This can't be happening, oh please, please, please, let the test be negative. My daughter cannot go into the Arena…pregnant.
"They're not tender unless you mash them!" Katniss lashes out at me, her eyes cross and brows furrowed.
"Kat—" I begin, but I'm interrupted by the timer. My heart pulsates in my ears as my eyes flitter across the room, finally landing on the testing kit that sits idly on the table.
I clamp my eyes shut for a second, savoring these final moments. How can a single line on one piece of paper have the power to change our lives so irrevocably?
I fill my lungs to their breaking point and hold it in place for a second before releasing it through my pursed lips. Then slowly, I open my eyes. All of five seconds have passed, yet it felt like hours.
"Oh God—no," I blurt out; my worst fear having just been confirmed.
"What? W-what is it?" my daughter stutters–the fear prevalent in her trembling voice. I wonder if she has any idea about how drastically her life is about to change.
I pick the test up, bringing it closer to my face and read the results again. Hoping—praying…against all the odds that I interpreted them wrong.
'Don't fall apart, Lily,' I hear Dylan's reassuring words in my head. And he's right. I can't crumble and fall apart. Because I have to be strong for my daughter. My daughter who, in roughly thirty-two to thirty-five weeks, will be a mother herself.
If she survives that long…
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
– Effie –
"It appears your Victors once again believe they are above Panem's laws," Proctor offers to me one night after ending his call.
Inside I'm bursting with a brilliant light–nearly unable to contain my joy as I ponder what my brave children have accomplished this time. Thankfully, I manage to reign in my jubilation as I meet Proctor's eyes with a vacant expression and shrug nonchalantly. "What have they done now?" I ask with mock irritation.
"They are training for the Games—"
I pull in a sharp intake of air and release a huge gasp, my hand snapping up to conceal my dismay. "How can two insolent children be so incapable of following the rules?" I exclaim. "But I have no doubt you will have the issue rectified in no time," I add certainly, boosting Proctor's already maxed out ego.
"Oh, Effie, my love," Proctor grins, leaning in and pressing his vile lips to my cheek. "The faith you have in me is simply astounding, but there is nothing to rectify, my dear," Proctor affirms, leaning back as he balances the cigar between his iniquitous lips. My brows furrow with confusion, so Proctor continues.
"As you know, there are no secrets from our president in all of Panem; our president knows all. Apparently," Proctor smirks his disapproval, the disdain prevalent in his features. "Coriolanus has sought counsel from Heavensbee—" Proctor takes a drag from his cigar, blowing the smoke out in puffs of rings.
"Did he recommend a punishment?" I ask, hoping that I seem nothing more than genuinely curious.
"Well, of course!" Proctor laughs again, this time deleteriously. "But not in the way you might imagine."
I offer him a muddled expression, urging him to go on.
"There will be a mandatory viewing tonight, directed to all the 'Victors'. The message will be loud and clear. I just wish I could see their expressions when Flickerman makes the announcement." The glee in Proctor's chuckle causes my heart to skip a beat.
"What is the message?" I ask, wishing he'd stop beating around the bush.
"Instead of putting a stop to the training, Snow wants all the victors to spend their remaining time preparing for the Games."
"An entire arena full of Careers?" I blurt out spontaneously, the wine in my mouth almost spewing out.
"Precisely. As Coriolanus said, why crush our strongest when they're at their weakest?"
"I suppose that is—"
"It's brilliant, no doubt. I suppose I didn't give Heavensbee enough credit," Proctor states proudly.
My lips tighten into a straight line as I watch Proctor puffing his chest up with pride. I find myself wanting to be angry with Plutarch, but I know that like me, he has his own role to play.
Proctor's phone rings, and the pathetic lap dog he is, bolts to the other side of the room to retrieve it.
"Geesh," I breathe out a sigh of relief, pressing my back against the door. I wish to thank whoever Proctor received the call from that sent him bolting from my apartment so quickly. Once I regain my bearings, I make my way to the kitchen. I grab the largest wine goblet I own and proceed to fill it to the brim with the chilled Sauvignon Blanc.
This is getting intense. If it weren't for my children, my sweet and brave Katniss, and my kind and precious Peeta, I would've—well, I most likely would have never put myself in this position in the first place. But this is for them.
Proctor knows something about the upcoming Reaping that he is withholding. And try as I might, I have not been successful in loosening his lips.
But that is no matter. I have a plan to rid Proctor from my life, and for good, I just need to figure out the best way to execute it.
In the most unladylike fashion, I gulp down enough wine to prevent it from sloshing outl, then, as I'm making my way to the bathroom, my telephone rings, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.
I clear my throat before answering the phone. "Salutations, this is Effie Trinket," I say in my most chipper voice.
"Effie—hey, um, it's Peeta."
"P-Peeta?" I gasp, my insides filling with so much delight at the sound of his voice. I realize a moment too late that my voice was filled with too much sincerity. So, I quickly change my tune, hoping to eradicate any doubts our prospective listeners may have. "Peeta…Oh…um, yes. I am very busy, did you need something?" I snap, hating myself for the anguish I must be causing my sweet boy.
"Um…yeah. Is this a bad time?" Oh! I so badly want to reach through the phone and hug my sweet boy, for all the distress laced in his voice.
"Well, I suppose I could spare a minute, if you insist…" It feels deplorable on so many levels to speak to my sweet boy in this manner, but I cannot take any chances. I retrieve Haymitch's coin, (thankful he insisted I hang on to it) and want to curse Mr. Latier. While I'm thankful for any amount of anonymity, five minutes simply is not enough time. But alas, it is all we will have.
"Oh Peeta, Peeta sweetheart, please forgive me, I fear my line is tapped. I'm assuming this call is of the utmost importance, otherwise you would not have reached out. You must make it quick, for we have less than five minutes." I glance at the clock, making note of the time.
"Oh," Peeta says, confounded. It does not take him long to gather his bearings and he does not waste a single second. I have a hard time keeping up with his distraught and rambling speech. But I manage it. My heart sinks into my stomach when he shares his suspicions–that he believes Katniss may be with child.
"But, that's impossible, right? She hasn't missed a single dose of the anti-pregnancy tablets. It IS impossible, right Effie?"
I tap my nails against the table, searching my brain for a response. "Well…yes, it should be impossible," I begin hesitantly. Capitol-grade medication has gone through rigorous testing throughout the years to ensure its accuracy. "The only thing that could have negated its effectiveness is if Katniss ingested a counter-active medication," I tell Peeta plainly, but surely, no such thing exists among the districts.
And that's when it hits me. No such medication should exist in the districts, unless it was, say…smuggled in. "Is she on…has she taken any other medications?" I ask, my heart thumping anxiously inside my chest.
Why didn't I think to ask this sooner? I berate myself.
"No, I don't think so. W-what are the medications?" Peeta questions with so much trepidation. "T-the counter-active ones?" he adds.
"There are only two medications that could cancel its efficacy. The first being a medication for erectile dysfunction, so that's definitely not it. The other is…it is…oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Oh Peeta, it's…I'm afraid this is all my fault." My hand reaches up to steady my quivering chin. How could I be so foolish to forget to mention this?
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"
"Peeta, did Katniss consume any of the antibiotics I sent to you after your friend was…injured? Because…that is the only medication that could have interfered."
My heart immediately plummets into my stomach because before the word slips from his mouth, I know the answer is yes.
"Y-y-yes," he finally confirms.
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
– Gale –
I stretch out, readjusting myself in the recliner since my sister thought my hip bone would be a comfortable place to fall asleep. But she just looks so peaceful, like a sleeping little angel and I don't have the heart to wake her up. I close my eyes and decide to rest while it's quiet when I hear a light tapping at the door.
"Mrs. Hawthorne…um Hazelle, I managed to scrounge up—" I hear the voice of Peeta Mellark as he gently nudges the door open. One of the kids must have forgotten to latch it when they left this morning, damn them.
I look up, arching a daring brow at Peeta Mellark. He winces back, nearly dropping the two sacks in his arms when he sees me.
"Oh, I–I'm sorry," Mellark whispers. "I…Hazelle asked me if I could get her a few things. I didn't–I'm sorry."
"Ma's at Haymitch's." I want to tell him to take his blood money supplies and shove them up his ass, but our cupboards are past the point of bare. I can't listen to the kids' stomach rumbling at bedtime for another night. "Prolly could have saved you some time if you had just walked next door," I retort snarkily.
"Oh, it's no problem. I like the extra walking," Mellark says, and I instantly feel guilty for being such a dick. "Do you mind if I uh…" Peeta says, motioning to the kitchen counter and pointing to the ice box. "Most of this is non-perishable, but there are a few items that may spoil if left out too long."
"Yeah, yeah. Help yourself. And uh…grab yourself a glass of water while you're at it. It's pretty hot out there," I say, trying to be hospitable.
"Thanks," Mellark says, seeming to know where all the dishes are in my kitchen. He grabs a plastic cup from the first cabinet he opens and fills it with water. He guzzles the entire thing, then fills it again, only taking a few sips before sitting it to the side. "So, uh…how come you're not working today?"
"We um…the mine is closed," I lie, looking down at my sleeping sister and wiping the wispy hairs from her forehead, thankful that she's in my arms to provide a distraction. I'm not sure if I should tell Mellark that my crew got word of other districts rebelling and decided to go on strike.
"Oh," Mellark says, cocking his head to the side before closing the ice box. Then he carries his sacks over to the pantry and begins unloading the supplies.
"Um…thanks for the uh…for bringing all that." I'm not sure why I said that, but I felt like it needed to be said.
"It's no problem. I'm sure if our situations were reversed, you'd do the same for me and Katniss's family," Mellark says with complete certainty.
But would I? If I was loaded with money and had connections to obtain supplies that no one in the district could get, would I even think about passing around the wealth? If it was my family, Madge, or Katniss's family, then absolutely, yes, without a doubt. But what about strangers? No, I don't think the thought would even occur to me.
I'm certain Mellark can see the guilt scribbled all over my face, but when I look across the room, he's got his back turned while he fills our pantry with all that's in that sack. I watch as he arranges the last cans in the cabinet, then slides the door closed.
"Well, that should last you guys a little while," he says, collecting his empty sacks. Then he walks across the room, taking a seat on the arm of the couch, so that he's just in front of me.
I know that whatever is about to come out of his mouth is important by the intense glare in his eyes. "Do you think we could…talk? Not now, but maybe later this evening? Katniss is having her girls night with Madge tonight, so I'd rather do it then," Mellark states, keeping his voice slightly above a whisper so he doesn't wake Posie.
I lean back in the recliner and glance at the clock. "The kids should be home from school in about an hour. We could—"
"I would rather wait until after Madge comes over. I can come back once the girls are settled." For some reason, when he says the word "settled" I hear the word safe.
"Okay. I just feel kind of bad about you having to do all that walking."
Mellark smiles, pushing up from the couch to stand up. I hear a squeaking noise, and realize a moment later that it must be his leg. The fake one. Damn, I completely forgot about that.
"Alright, well, I'll see you later then. Tell your mom I got everything she asked for, plus a few extras," Mellark says, then he's out the door without another word, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
What could he possibly want to talk to me about? I guess I have no choice but to wait.
It feels like time slows for the rest of the afternoon. When I look at the clock, thinking at least an hour has ticked by, I'm more than disappointed to see that it's only half past five.
I decide to make use of the supplies Mellark brought and get started on dinner. Madge stops by to tell the kids good night before heading over to Katniss's house.
She leans in to kiss me and I grab her hips firmly, pulling her in for a hug. "Stop it Gale, I need to go before it gets dark!" she whines. I don't want to, but I immediately release her. Ever since she was attacked, she avoids walking anywhere in the dark. Can't say I blame her.
"Okay, well, have fun," I tell her, stealing one more kiss.
"Wow!" Ma exclaims when she gets home. "Peeta really stocked us up," she smiles. Then she closes her eyes and hums in satisfaction. "Wow Gale, that smells delicious!"
We eat dinner that night, for the first time in a really long time, until our bellies are full. Vick and Rory groan miserably from eating too much, while Posie snickers and says, "I left just enough room for one cookie!"
After Posie's had her bath and she's tucked in bed, I hear a faint knock at the door. Ma arches a bemused brow, wondering who could be here at this hour.
"Oh, it's uh…Mell—Peeta," I quickly correct myself to avoid one of Ma's hateful glares. "He wanted to talk while the girls are doing their thing," I explain to Ma, who nods without question. I slip my shoes on, then lean down and kiss Ma on the cheek before heading out the door.
"So, uh…what's up?" I ask Mellark. "Where did you want to talk? We could go over to Madge's, since she's not there." I suggest.
"Let's go this way, I want to show you something," Mellark suggests, tossing his thumb in the other direction.
"Okay," I say, shrugging my shoulders.
I'm lost in the symphony of crickets, thankful for the glow of the moon to light our way when Mellark breaks the silence. "I know you would probably do this anyway Gale, but I wouldn't feel right unless I asked you this myself," he begins, zig-zagging through the Seam.
"When Katniss gets home, she's going to need you. She's going to need all her friends, all her family to keep her afloat."
I narrow my eyes in confusion, but Mellark's back is turned to me, so he doesn't see my questioning expression. "When Catnip gets back from where?"
Mellark turns around to face me, his eyes glistening with water. "After Katniss is crowned Victor. She'll need everyone who loves her to…keep her from drowning," he affirms, turning back around, pushing us deeper into the Seam.
"Oh," I say, realization dawning on me. Then I'm angry. I can feel my blood boiling beneath my skin. "So, what…you're not even going to try?" I spit out through gritted teeth.
"Of course I'm going to try, I'm going to do everything in my power–but…if things go wrong in there, then…then that's not in my control. Please just say you'll look after her. I know you're with Madge, and I'm not asking you like that. I'm asking you to be there as her friend, as her best friend. Please don't let her drown."
As quickly as my anger fires up, it instantly dissipates into something like pity. "Of course; it goes without saying."
My brain takes a moment to process his words, and now I have a million questions running through my head. What did he mean by 'if things go wrong in there?' I open my mouth to begin my interrogation when we stop at a vacant home on the outskirts of the Seam. A home that, now that I think about it, I can't recall a time in which it has ever been occupied. And it happens to be one of the few homes with a basement, which makes it all the weirder.
Mellark lets himself in like he owns the place and leads us straight to the basement. And for some reason, I get the distinct impression this isn't his first time here.
He pulls something from his pocket and inserts it into the door, probably a key. I follow him, feeling as if I'm in some sort of dream when I notice that we're not in a basement, but more like some kind of tunnel. "What the h–"
Mellark turns around and presses that damned finger to his lips again, but this time, he's also holding up a piece of paper.
'Please trust me. We're not far,' the paper reads. He must have prepared for my doubt, having it in his pocket to pull out at a moment's notice. I'm too stunned to do anything but nod, so that's what I do and continue trailing behind Mellark.
Finally, we reach another door, but instead of opening it and pushing through, Mellark turns around to face me. "I'm trusting you Gale. I'm trusting you with this," he says. Then pushes the door open.
The room is pitch black at first, then Mellark does something that makes the room glow in some sort of fake-fire-lanterns. I can't do anything but gape in bewilderment. We're in some kind of storage room. And it's packed wall-to-wall with canned goods. There's enough canned goods in here to feed our entire district for months!
In addition to the canned goods, there are air tight containers stacked from the floor to the ceiling; each one has a handwritten label on the front to identify its contents. I see the words, 'Blankets, Sheets, First Aid, Medication, Serving Utensils, Flashlights & Lanterns, Freeze-Dried Meals, and Sanitation.' As if that isn't enough to blow my mind, there are also jugs and jugs of five-gallon containers of water. There's enough water in here to fill an ocean, I think.
"What the f–"
"I think it's time for us to talk." Peeta says.
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
– Hazelle –
"I'm out of here Haymitch!" I yell up the stairs and make my way to the door. I don't wait for a reply, but that's not out of the ordinary since he never replies. I don't even know if he's conscious enough to hear me, but he knows I'll be back tomorrow.
I'm foregoing my usual routine today, as I told the kids this morning not to expect me until close to dinner time.
After locking Haymitch in his house, I double check my bag to make sure the casserole dish is secure and make my way over to Katniss's house.
I could not stop pacing the floors at home yesterday. I was flooded with guilt and anxiety, wondering how my friend was coping. I wanted to stop by and check on her, so I decided to utilize some of the extra ingredients Peeta has filled our cabinets with by making Lily a casserole.
I can't imagine how Lily's feeling. I mean, each year anyone who is a parent worries it will be their child's name that's called for that year's Reaping, but this year the names will not be random.
I try to put myself in Lily's shoes and think about if our situation was reversed, and it was Gale going into the arena with Madge…and just the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. Madge has become a part of our family. She has become just as much my daughter as Posie is. I'm ashamed to say that the night the Quell was announced, I was overcome with an intense wave of relief that for once, I needn't fear my children's safety... Perhaps that's why I actually made the casserole.
Safe. I utter the word silently. What a joke. When were we ever safe?
I knock once I reach the door, and it doesn't take Lily long to answer.
"Hazelle, what a surprise!" Lily gushes, widening the door for me to enter. "What brings you by?"
"I'm embarrassed to say I made way too much food the other night and I didn't want it to go to waste. You do like squash, don't you?" I ask my friend, carefully taking the casserole out.
"Oh yes! I love squash! We haven't had it in ages. Thank you Hazelle, that was really thoughtful."
I follow Lily into the kitchen and she sets the dish on the table. Then she fumbles through a drawer, pulling out a serving spatula and two plates. "Will you share a portion with me?"
"I'd love to," I tell her with a smile, thankful for the invitation.
We sit in the kitchen, engaging in small talk in between bites.
"So, Lily," I begin. She glances up to meet my eyes. "How are you?" I ask.
She pats her mouth with a cloth napkin, forces a smile and nods. "I'm good. I'm okay," she says, her shoulders tensing slightly.
It doesn't take a genius to know she's lying. She's giving me the generic, automatic answer she's probably been giving everyone.
I narrow my eyes at her and ask again. "Lily. It's me. How are you, really?"
Her lips tighten into a straight line and her eyes fill with water. I slide my plate out of the way and reach over to place my hand on top of hers. "It's torture of the worst kind. I might lose not one, but two of my kids. And Katniss is–" She abruptly stops talking and takes a long sip of her water.
"Katniss is what?" I ask her.
"She's just…she's a mess. And I'm trying so hard to be strong for her. I just…I don't know how we're going to get through this. If Katniss wins and Peeta dies, she'll never be the same. She won't be Katniss anymore. And I'm pretty sure that's Peeta's plan. I don't think he plans on making it out of there. But… I really don't want to talk about it. What's new with you?"
"I understand. About the not wanting to talk. But if you do—" No more words are needed, and she nods her understanding. "I'm here, okay?"
"Thank you Hazelle, that means a lot." Lily says with a slight curve of her lips. Then, it's like a switch is flipped and her body fills with excitement. "So, how are the kids? I saw Posie the other day and she looked just radiant!"
"Posie is great, but I think aliens abducted my son and replaced him with a changeling."
Lily's eyes narrow with confusion. "And why is that?"
"Gale's just…he's so different with Madge. She's changed him. He's happy. He's always smiling. Even after working in the mines all day, he comes home in a good mood.
"Is that a bad thing though?"
"No, it's just…different…weird. It's just taking some getting used to." But I'm already used to it. I'm just worried about the day…if it ever comes, that Madge Undersee is no longer in my son's life.
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
– Katniss –
We can't afford to waste a single second with less than a week until the Reaping so Peeta and I spend every spare moment training. We run, lift weights, load and unload packages. My fingers ache from all the knots I've tied and snares I've set. Prim fills our idle time pounding all sorts of (what she deems) useful information into our brains. She's made study cards to help us become more familiar with all the different types of plants. Prim has scribbled the name of every plant she knows of on the front of each card. Edible, medicinal, poisonous, you name it, she's got a card for it. On the opposite side of the card is a detailed description of said plant. What makes it useful/harmful, and any identifying features that might distinguish it from another.
Sometimes she quizzes us with the front, sometimes the back. And much to my irritation, I find myself dreaming about those damn cards.
One day Peeta said, "It would help learn this stuff if there were pictures." And hence, Prim put him to work drawing the images for her study cards. Needless to say, Peeta is now a master at identifying the plants.
A few days after we started our "Career Training", we got word of another mandatory viewing. I was relieved Snow decided not to show his face, because the sight of his face would have definitely caused me to lose my dinner. It was Caesar Flickerman who relayed Snow's "special announcement". Apparently our training for the Games got back to the Capitol, and instead of punishing us for it, President Snow urged all of us Victors to spend our remaining time getting strong. I wanted to send my fist through Caesar's shiny, pixelated face right then.
I didn't want to forgo my "Girls Night" routine with Madge, but I also knew that I couldn't be anywhere except with Peeta the night before the Reaping. When I brought this up to Madge, she easily agreed to rescheduling it a week early.
And here we are now.
It's so hard to believe that it was just one year ago that I sat at Madge's vanity, staring at myself in the mirror while she did my hair. She had ensnared me like a caged animal, refusing to release me until I admitted my feelings for Peeta. Has the world only orbited the sun only once since then?
One year ago, our lives were so very different. Not just mine, but Madge's too. Madge was the privileged daughter of 12's mayor. She lived in the Mayor's Mansion with her two parents. And now…she's an orphan, living in the Seam, just next door to my best friend.
And me? What's changed about me? For starters, I wasn't married. I lived in the Seam with my parents and sister. I wasn't a Victor. I was in love with Peeta, but had yet to tell him. But most of all, there wasn't a bounty over my head. I wasn't preg—no, I'm not. My mother's test was wrong. It just isn't possible.
Right?
It's just stress. No matter which way I turn, stress is staring me in the face. I'm constantly stressed about where we'll get our next meal. The fence is electrified 100% of the time, so that means no foraging of any kind. And for the last month, all our food from the Capitol has arrived spoiled, infested with maggots, decayed and rotting. Ugh. The thought alone turns my stomach. If I'm not stressed about food, then it's the Games. How Peeta and Haymitch are able to keep anything down is beyond me, but it'd make anyone sick to their stomach. So, why is it surprising that literally everything makes me want to hurl?
Because I am NOT preg—I can't even say–or think the word without the urge to run to the bathroom. It's just not possible. I made that clear to my mother that day, and threatened to never speak to her again if she spoke a word of this to Peeta. He doesn't need to add that to his stress level.
But sometimes, when I'm all alone, I imagine Peeta as a father. He would be such an amazing one too, I have no doubt about that. That's not the thing that scares me. Being responsible for another human isn't so terrifying either. What scares me the most is having one more person I love, which would give Snow even more ammunition to hold over my head. I don't know if I would be any good at being a mother, but I have no doubt that Peeta would make up for everything I lack in spades. Although, I did have a hand in raising Prim, and she's…perfect. But she's Prim.
If we lived in a different time, in a different world, a world with no Snow, no Games, then maybe…
"Katniss!" I shake my head when I hear Madge calling my name.
"Sorry," I say, turning to face her.
"What were you just thinking about?"
"Nothing," I lie.
"You looked so far away, but you also looked like…I don't know, you had this almost…peaceful calm about you," she says with a skeptically raised brow.
I don't want to talk about me, and I absolutely cannot reveal what I was just thinking about, so I redirect the conversation to her. "So, I don't want any graphic details, but uh…you and Gale? Um…did it?" Madge's pale skin reddens quickly, and I feel bad about diverting the attention to her, but I just can't talk about what I was just thinking about.
And as much as it grosses me out to think of Gale in that way, it's better for Madge to have the center of attention.
"Yes," Madge admits, her redness slowly fading. "It–it was just once though," Madge says defensively, shrugging her shoulders.
"Well, do you want to do it…again?"
She shrugs her shoulders again, refusing to meet my eyes.
Then slowly, her eyes find mine. The blush creeps back up her cheeks and her lips stretch across her face. "He was just…so…sweet, Katniss."
I raise a brow and tilt my head to the side. "The words "sweet," and "Gale," do not go together…are you sure we're talking about the same Gale?" I smirk cheekily.
Madge smiles widely, shaking her head from side to side, like she's trying to get rid of a mental image. Then she runs the hairbrush through my hair, and we're silent for a moment.
Madge continues brushing my hair, then orbits to my side and begins braiding a section of my hair.
"Katniss," she begins hesitantly, and the air between us suddenly feels thicker. Somehow, I know that our lighthearted girl talk is over. "You know how much I love you, right? You and Prim. You guys are like the sisters I never had. You know that, right?"
I open my mouth to respond, but Madge keeps talking. "I just want you to know that…I'll do everything in my power to protect Prim, to keep her safe. I've always loved you both. It's important to me that you know I'd do anything for Prim, and for you too. You guys are…you guys are my family." I don't have to be looking at my friend to know there are tears streaming down her cheeks.
I swivel in my chair to face Madge and pull her into my arms.
"You're my family too, Madge, and I love you too. And so does Prim."
"I could never hurt you Katniss, you have to know that. And I would die before I let anything happen to Prim. Please Katniss, you have to know that." Madge's tiny frame trembles in my arms. And I'm so confused; where is this coming from? Of course I know she would never do anything to hurt me or Prim. Madge could never hurt anyone.
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
– Peeta –
I forget to tell Katniss about my time with Gale. It just didn't seem very important on the list of things, when all I wanted to do is spend every minute with her. I felt like we had so much time to make up for, from the one night we spent apart. Each day passes much too quickly, until finally, at last, it's the day of the Reaping.
Katniss and I wake at the same time, both of us claiming to be too restless to sleep. Reaping Day has always been nerve wracking, but this year is different because we know it'll be us leaving on the train today. But at least we'll be together.
I think about that day in the tunnels and everything Haymitch revealed. It's no wonder why I can't sleep. Katniss too, for that matter.
The sun's not even up yet, so I lie in the dark, holding my beautiful wife in my arms. We lay like this for a while, curled into the other in perfect silence. Katniss manages to wriggle out of my arms and peppers me with kisses, which leads to us making love. I take my time, worshiping every square inch of her body. I bring her to climax three times before I join her at the precipice. We shower together, making love once more before getting dressed and walking to her house.
Our families are gathered, but it doesn't feel like "my" family and "her" family…as separate units, but that our families have merged. (Without my mother and Graham, of course.) And for the life of me, I can't figure out when it started feeling this way, but it fills me with a sense of tranquility.
The mood is somber as we eat lunch and watch the minutes tick away. Minus the half hour I spent with my father, Katniss stays glued to my side all morning.
Bless her heart, Prim tries her best to stay upbeat. My brother, who is normally laughing, goofing off, telling jokes, and playing pranks is unnervingly quiet this morning.
My dad meets my gaze and I send him a questioning glance. He understands the silent question and nods his head.
Finally, it's time for us to leave.
Kpkpkpkpkpkpkpkp
– Madge –
"Welcome, welcome!" Effie Trinket steps up to the podium, speaking clearly, concisely, and of course, with her affected Capitol accent. The constant chatter slows to a dull whisper for a few seconds before it's eerily quiet. "This is the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, which means it's the Third Quarter Quell," Effie continues chipperly. Like every other Reaping I've ever been to, she reads the Treaty of Treason and I can't help but feel like something is off.
After going through a mental checklist, it takes me a few seconds to realize what's different. It's not anything our Escort is doing, per say, but that she lacks her usual vibrancy. The pep in her step is off key, but it's so slight I doubt anyone other than Katniss, Peeta or Haymitch would have noticed.
Next to me, Gale reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I force the corners of my lips up, and something catches my eye. When I scan the crowd, for the first time I notice the usual distinct line between Town and Seam is practically nonexistent. And for some reason, that fills me with pride.
Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss are huddled behind Effie on the stage, each of them with their own burly, giant Peacekeeper standing within arms reach behind them.
"Ladies first," Effie announces, her eyes glistening against the sunlight. She steps up to the giant ball and reaches in, elbow-deep to grasp the single slip of paper.
What a joke, I silently smirk. Why not just say, 'Katniss first?'
Gale's warm, calloused fingers squeeze around my hand as Effie shouts, "Katniss Everdeen!"
Katniss seems to be lost in her thoughts because a second later I see Peeta nudging her forward. Realizing what she's meant to be doing, she takes a step forward, standing proudly at the center of the stage.
"Okay, now for the boys," Effie says brightly, smiling from ear to ear. If I didn't know Effie was really on our side, I would hate her. I would despise her. I would truly loathe her for the role she plays in calling our names. But I have to say, she plays her role impeccably. I seriously doubt anyone notices the pain in her eyes.
Effie takes a deep breath before reaching into the bowl. She's elbows-deep again, struggling to choose between the two slips of paper. I don't know whose name I would rather it be, (not that I want it to be either of them) but I already know what's going to happen if Haymitch's name is called.
My heart is slamming inside my chest with anticipation as Effie settles for the paper on her left. It feels like she's moving in slow motion as she unfolds the slip of paper and opens it.
"Haymitch Ab—" She doesn't make it through his entire name before Peeta side glances at his mentor and shoves him to the side.
"I volunteer as Tribute," Peeta declares firmly, taking his place next to Katniss. I watch as they face each other, linking their fingers tightly, and then…right in front of everyone, they share a kiss.
It's not a kiss of passion, but more like a promise.
I glance next to me just in time to see Gale nodding with approval. Then he kisses his first three fingers, extending his arm high above his head. My entire being is electrified with a bolt of pride, and without hesitation, I mimic his actions. Then it's like a domino effect, until every member of our district has their hand held high with the District 12 salute.
I'm watching. Observing. Wondering when it's going to happen. Wondering how they're going to do it.
I'm not left wondering for much longer when I see a Capitol official handing one of the peacekeepers an envelope, who then hands it to Effie.
Effie's brow wrinkles with confusion as she accepts the envelope. She has no choice but to open it. I study her features as she removes the seal from the envelope, lifts the flap, and retrieves the tri-folded paper. When she opens it, she reads it silently to herself first.
I observe her face exhibit a vast array of emotions as her eyes scan the words on the page. Her eyes almost go wide with shock, but she quickly reigns her feelings in with an expression of delighted surprise.
I free my sweaty hand from Gale's.
"Well, how about that!" Effie chirps. "It appears the Capitol has an exciting twist for the Third Quarter Quell," Effie begins, catching everyone's attention.
I have to give the woman credit, she holds herself together well. Anyone who doesn't know Effie Trinket would believe, without a doubt, that she feels an insurmountable level of pride at sending her beloved victors into another arena.
"On this, the Third Quarter Quell Games, each Tribute will be accompanied by a sibling, if said sibling is of reaping age."
Their is an almost synchronized sharp intake of air that comes from the crowd, followed by gasps and exasperated sighs. I think they all know this is a personal dig at Katniss. Because I'm pretty sure Katniss is the only Victor this new rule applies to.
"Primrose Ev-verdeen," Effie says, spotting Prim in the crowd and waving her forward. I follow her line of sight until I spot Prim for myself.
Prim doesn't wince, she doesn't show an ounce of fear as she makes her way to the stage.
But…no, this isn't right. It can't be Prim. I had already decided.
I open my mouth to volunteer, but no words come out.
I clear my throat, and that seems to unfreeze me. I keep my eyes trained ahead, refusing to look back at the anguished expression that will certainly inhabit Gale's features.
I push my way through the crowd and announce, "I volunteer as Tribute."
Hushed whispers. Gasps. Heads turning with bewildered expressions. And then acceptance takes its place. When I'm halfway to the stage, the crowd splits in half, making a direct, clear path for me.
"Madge! Madge, no!" I hear Gale's cries far behind me. But I can't turn around. If I turn around…if I look into his eyes, then I'm afraid I won't be brave enough to do this. He'll ask me—beg me not to do this, and I just…lack the willpower to deny him anything.
Finally, I reach Prim and pull her to my chest, squeezing her tightly. "I love you, Prim," I tell her, then push her behind me.
Recognition fills her features and her eyes well up with tears. "Madge, no—" she cries, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
I press forward, refusing to look back. I can't look back. I won't look back.
Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back. I repeat as I ascend to the stage.
My legs are still shaking…or maybe trembling. Effie smiles at me, her eyes gleaming with something akin to pride. She ushers me next to Katniss, where I face the crowd, and the sun bounces off a piece of metal on Katniss's top.
Squinting, I do a double take when I see my aunt's mockingjay pin secured to the lapel of her shirt.
Katniss takes my hand with tear filled eyes, and then Peeta slips around Katniss, so he is on my other side, where he takes my other hand. This has to be a record because for the second time today, our district refuses to applaud, standing tall with their three fingered salute.
