Authors Note:
To: Wilsonlindsay280 – I just want to say thank you for your comment on "Changing the Game," I tried to reply to your review, but you have private messaging disabled, so thank you soooo much! I'm so glad you enjoyed all the different POV's
To: Linds xD – Thank you so much for your reviews too! (So many of them!) I wanted to reply to each one, but you also have your private messages disabled; so thank you, thank you, for all the reviews in "Changing the Game" in addition to the one in "Another Way Out."
And lastly, To: Rhonda Ward – Thank you so much for your feedback in "Another Way Out", you too, have your private messages disabled, and I didn't want anyone's review to go un-thanked. (Is that even a word?) Anyway, your reviews mean the world to me, so thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my little everlark heart! I hope you guys stick around till the end; I've got big plans!
Not that this is important, but my birthday is Monday, and the best, best, best gift EVER would be . . . you guessed it! Reviews! Please, drop me a line once you've read.
One last thing and I'll let you get to it; I think I'm going to try something new and give you guys a quote related to each chapter…
Quote: "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?" – Dr. George Berkley, Bishop & philosopher from the 1600's.
Another Way Out
Chapter 4 – Wash the Sadness Away
| Effie |
As instructed, I read from cover to cover, "Policies and Procedures Every Escort Must Know Prior to Tour Day" during my train ride to Twelve. I only had to suffer reading through it once, thanks to my near photographic memory. Surely, the author could have found a more enticing way to inform us escort's the do's and don'ts of proper etiquette among the various district's. Perhaps in my upcoming free time, I shall do just that.
Per the manual, the standard procedure once arriving in your victor's home district is for said escort to immediately seek out their champion. As all victor's are from the districts, I suppose the Capitol does not entrust them to look captivating enough on their own; as far as Capitol standards are. I suppose it is not a bad thing. If I left it up to Katniss, I am certain she would not surprise me and present herself in her hunting attire.
I can picture it so clearly in my mind; Katniss in those plain brown boots laced up to her calves and that over the shoulder braid that seems to be her go-to hair style. I chuckle to myself thinking about Katniss' so obvious lack of fashion sense. I do suppose she has had more trivial things to worry about throughout her lifetime; like feeding her family. I immediately shake my head to eradicate the intrusive thought from my mind; thoughts such as these could surely result in my demise.
However, the manual has not been updated since Katniss and Peeta's triumph, allowing myself some wiggle room. As significant as it is for me to adhere to my given timeline, I must deviate from the schedule and stop by Haymitch's first. It is of the utmost importance that I inform him of my decision. After giving my thoughts much deliberation, I thought of nothing else for weeks and weeks; incessantly flip flopping back and forth, weighing the pro's and con's before finally coming to my decision. And might I add, I did not come to the conclusion lightly. I went many a night with barely a wink of sleep as I pondered my options. But I have made my decision and will not be swayed. Therefore, I must inform Haymitch before he finds out otherwise. I simply do not want to imagine the hissy fit he would surely throw if he were to hear it from someone else.
Upon exiting the train, a car is waiting for me. I smile at my driver's promptness, grateful that at least someone appreciates the importance of schedules. "If it is not too much trouble, will you please drop me off at Haymitch's residence, I must ensure that he is ready; what a travesty it would be for him to have stains of bourbon on his shirt for all of Panem to see!" I inform my driver, Mr. Yagami, rambling off my excuse for stopping there first. Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch all live within walking distance of each other, so when I am done at Haymitch's, I can just walk over to one of the children's homes.
"Sure thing, Miss Trinket. That's smart thinking, that man is always three sheets to the wind, if you know what I mean." Mr. Yagami quips, oblivious to anything out of the ordinary.
"Indeed, I do." I concur, feeling the sudden warmth fill my cheeks.
"You know Miss Trinket, my friends and I, well, we admire you. You're the only one in as long as I can remember to keep that man in check. Everyone knows without you, those kids would have never made it back to Twelve."
I begin to fan my face when I feel the heat ascending up my cheeks again; in hopes of cooling the embarrassment away before it is noticeable. "I . . . I appreciate that, but Hay— Mr. Abernathy is not nearly as wretched as he portrays himself. But thank you, all the same." I placate him, not willing to take all the credit though. It is not a lie, Haymitch truly is not nearly as despicable as he presents himself. Sometimes, I wonder if he intentionally refrains from maintaining proper hygiene, in addition to his lack of daily grooming in an attempt to alienate those around him. Before this past year I would have been the first person to say yes. However, after everything I learned about him during the seventy-fourth games, I seem to find myself not quite as certain.
"Well, this is it." Mr. Yagami affirms once he places the car in park. My luggage remains on the train, so the only thing I have to keep up with is my minaudière. After checking my reflection in my mini compact mirror, I smile when I see that not a single hair is out of place and then slide it back into the side pocket of my bag. Mr. Yagami slips out of the driver's seat and circles the vehicle, rushing to my side of the car to open the door for me. I graciously accept his hand with a smile as he helps me out of the vehicle.
"Thank you, Mr. Yagami, I must commend you on your timeliness. So many of those around me just do not appreciate the importance of adhering to a schedule."
"It's my pleasure, Miss Trinket, truly." He leans down to kiss the top of my gloved hand, which sends a wave of heat surging to my cheeks. Although I do so love flattery, I cannot help the flush of embarrassment it always seems to cause. I reach into my purse, retrieving a few coins to offer Mr. Yagami and hand them to him.
"Oh no, I couldn't." He politely declines the coins, waving his hand to dismiss the offer.
"Please, I insist. I simply refuse to take no for an answer, so if you do not accept my gratuity, we shall be standing out here all day. And . . . I am sure you have much better things to do, as do I."
With much hesitation, he finally accepts the coins and shoves them into his pocket. "It was a pleasure meeting you Miss Trinket, and good luck with the ole' fool. I'll see you in a few hours." I give him a bemused expression until I remember that he will be transporting the four of us back to the train. Quickly, I give him my brightest smile, slightly irritated at his term for Haymitch as we part ways. Something about the way he belittles District Twelve's mentor hits a nerve deep in my core, although, I am not certain what it is; or why.
As I watch Mr. Yagami driving out of Victor's Village, I take a look around at all the vacant homes. Out of twelve immaculate mansions, only three remain occupied. "What a shame for these homes to just waste away when I am certain many of the families here must be forced to share a room." My breath puffs out in a cloud as my words dissipate into the air. If no one hears my words, does that mean I did not say them? I surely hope so; otherwise, I could be hanged for such obtrusive comments.
As children, growing up in the Capitol it was made common knowledge from an early age that each district was supplied with its very own Victor's Village. We were also made aware that it was always the nicest, most well-kept section of each district. It was fashioned that way as an incentive for the games. A way to inspire participation throughout the years. But in Twelve, I cannot help but notice how dilapidated it appears compared to the other districts.
During escort training they allowed us to visit each district, informing us that all new escorts are placed in an outer district and must work their way up. I still remember my tour as if it were yesterday. I so badly desired to acquire my parents approval who had passed away the prior year. As the Capitol's Chief Historian, my father shared so much of his knowledge with me, unbeknownst to anyone else. I knew if I soared from the bottom, making my way close to one of the career districts in no time, it would please my parents, even from beyond the grave.
Although I remember it as if it were yesterday, at the same time it feels like a lifetime ago; yes, someone else's lifetime. As I look around the village a frown appears on my lips because the sad thing is that it IS the most well-kept area in all the district. I truly believe the thing that depresses me the most is after meeting my darling Katniss and Peeta, I no longer strived to climb to the top; wanting only to remain by their sides. Oh, there have been so many times over the last few months where I longed to be that clueless girl once again.
Why am I having such intrusive intellects today? I ask myself, sighing. Once again, I shake my head to rid the thoughts from my mind and walk up the steps to Haymitch's door. I stomp my snow crusted heels at the door mat and then with my gloved hand, I knock, waiting for Haymitch to greet me. While I wait for him, I look out at the scenery. It is the dead of winter in Twelve, a blanket of snow covering everything in sight. If not for the coal dust imperfecting the pure white of the snow, it surely would be a lovely sight.
When Haymitch finally opens the door, his face lights up at the sight of me. However, just as quickly it reverts back into its usual frown. "Oh, it's you." He grumbles, widening the door and inviting me inside.
"I knew you wouldn't be ready; Haymitch, the cameras will be here in less than an hour! Your clothes are not even clean!" I badger, scolding him and pull out a clean handkerchief to wipe at the stain on his shirt.
He pushes me away and scoffs, "Stop it woman. I can dress myself."
"Clearly you cannot." I tell him and shove the cloth back into my bag. I am repulsed by the stench in his home, as well as the array of clothes tossed throughout the room. But then, the smell of disinfectant wafts up my nostrils, which causes the corners of my mouth to turn up, slightly. At least he attempted to make an effort at tidying up prior to my arrival. I think to myself. "Haymitch, you can afford a housekeeper, why not acquire one? Then perhaps you might have some clean clothes to wear and you would be able to find something amongst this . . . madness."
"I'm not letting some stranger in my home." He scoffs, taking a seat on a wooden chair in the kitchen. He leans over with his foot propped up on his leg, applying an already formed sock to his foot, followed by his shoes; causing me to cringe in disgust.
Call it a pet peeve if you will, but one thing I cannot stand is to apply a previously worn sock to my foot before it has been washed. Even if it was only on my foot for a moment or two, I simply cannot bare it. I shake my head, tsking at Haymitch. I choose to remain standing while I watch him, reaching deep inside to gather enough courage to recite the speech I have prepared.
"Shouldn't you be at one of the kids' houses, giving them a hard time?" He grumbles, lifting an eyebrow. His curiosity is piqued; he knows I would never deviate from the agenda unless it was important. And it is. This is the most important decision I have ever come to in my lifetime.
"Yes, but . . . but I . . . it is imperative that I speak to you first. Besides, they have their prep teams to help them get ready." I tell him, trying my best to keep my voice steady.
"What's wrong?" He tenses, glaring at me while sending me a concerned look. Only Haymitch has the ability to look irritated and concerned at the same time. With both socks applied to his feet, he slips his feet into his shoes, one at a time. He stands up, turning around to face the chair and props one foot on the edge to tie his shoe.
"Haymitch, I must inform you of a status change, as it will greatly affect you; all of you actually—" Both shoes are on and tied when he turns to face me, giving me his full attention.
"Wait a minute, let me find my shoes and we'll take a walk. It's nicer outside." Haymitch says, standing up and running his fingers through his recently brushed hair. My nose scrunches up, in both confusion and from the stench of his home because Haymitch already has his shoes securely on his feet. Not only that, but it is freezing outside, the ground covered in at least a foot of snow. Has he lost his mind or is he already wast— OH! I think to myself, understanding his message. It is not safe to speak freely in his home, perhaps it is bugged.
"Oh, for crimney's sake, it will take you at least an hour to find your shoes in this pigsty and we do not have that long. Why don't we wait to have this conversation, I really must be getting over to Katniss' home."
"Yeah, okay. If you're sure it can wait." Haymitch remarks with squinted eyes as he jumps in front of me, blocking my path, "You okay, Trinkie?" He mouths, placing a hand on each of my shoulders.
"It's nothing major Haymitch, I was simply thinking of settling down and when the time comes, I do not believe my significant other would approve of me gallivanting all over the country with a drunkard such as yourself." I give Haymitch a bright smile, hoping he cannot sense my fear or the overwhelming discontent plaguing my soul.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Katniss |
"Oh, my heavens Katniss! What have you done to your eyebrows!" Vennia exclaims. I have to bite my tongue to stifle my laughs from her spikey, aqua colored hairdo. The golden tattoos that were once only under her eyebrows have now curled around under her eyes. It must be 'all the rave in the Capitol' I silently mock her, thankful for her ability to puncture the cloud of darkness that I am currently engulfed in from our visitor.
"Uh . . . nothing?" I offer her a bemused answer, not understanding what all the fuss is about. "What's wrong with them?" My genuine cluelessness seems to amuse her.
"Exactly. You have done nothing. I thought I told you when we parted ways in the Capitol, and I sent those tweezers home with you that you must maintain the stray hairs! Goodness Katniss, this is going to take forever!" She moans, rolling her eyes and shoving me into a chair. "I mean seriously, why must you make things so difficult for me?" She huffs, trying to mutter inconspicuously (and failing) under her breath. I really want to tell her that I have much more consequential things to worry about than the state of my eyebrows. Like perhaps, staying alive.
"Oh hush, Vennia. You're being over dramatic, and you know it. All we have to do is highlight her already naturally beautiful features." Octavia chimes brightly, sending a heat rushing to my cheeks.
The moment I left Peeta's and walked into my house, I was bombarded by my prep team; leaving me no time whatsoever to absorb everything that just happened to us. I am still trembling from our interaction with the evil man we call our president. Not only that, but the stench of blood and roses is still prevalent in my nostrils.
What does he do, drink the stuff? I ask myself, picturing Snow dipping one of Peeta's beautiful cookies into a cup filled with blood instead of tea.
'I wouldn't put it past him.' Peeta's voice fills my head, causing me to smile. I really must work on shielding my thoughts from him, but this time I don't mind. I welcome his voice as I try to tune out Vennia and Octavia's shrill comments.
'Is your prep team there too?' I ask him. While Vennia and Octavia carry on an over exerted, dramatic conversation about the state of my eyebrows and Flavius threatens to dip my fingers in some sort of repugnant elixir to keep me from biting my nails, I seek refuge in my conversation with Peeta.
'Were you able to talk to either of your parents before they got a hold of you?' Peeta inquires.
'No, the second I walked in they scooped me away, chastising me about my hairy face.' Peeta chuckles at my comment, forcing a scowl to my face.
'That wasn't meant to be funny.' I grumble, furrowing my brows.
"Katniss, you must stop scowling. You are such a beautiful girl, if only you would just smile more often. You are a victor, what's not to be happy about?" Octavia chimes. Oh, if she only knew.
The four of us turn our heads to the door when we hear a knock. My mother's head pops in, sporting a genuine smile. "Hi, sorry to interrupt, but Cinna asked me to come in here and show you guys how I did Katniss' hair for the reaping." My heart accelerates from the sound of Cinna's name. The anticipation of seeing him has me on pins and needles. Even though we've talked on the telephone, it just isn't the same as seeing him in person.
I had completely forgotten that we owned a phone, since no one I know has one. We were all seated at the dining room table one night, engrossed in a conversation when, out of nowhere, it just started ringing. We all looked up, not quite sure what to do when Dad got up, answering the phone and handing it to me. I was scared at first, worried it was the president calling to threaten me or something. No, he saved that for today. I think to myself. I cannot even begin to describe the relief, no— the sheer excitement I felt when it was Cinna's voice reverberating through the receiver that night.
Vennia grabs my mother a chair, positioning it behind me and promptly puts her to work. My pets gush, oohing and ah-ing each time I feel my mother tugging on my hair.
"Katniss! Why didn't you tell us your mother was so talented? Why, you have . . . you have magical fingers, Mrs. Everdeen! You are simply gifted!" Octavia gushes and I can almost feel the embarrassment seeping off my mother. Like me, she is not comfortable when it comes to receiving compliments.
Once my prep team has deemed my hair presentable, my mother surprises me. "Guys, would you mind if I had a minute with my daughter?"
"Sure!"
"Of course!"
"We're just going to check in with Cinna!" They gush, rushing out the room. Mom spins my chair so that she is facing me, cupping my chin in her hand. She looks deep into my eyes and for a minute, I think I'm in trouble.
Slowly, her face softens and she smiles at me. "Katniss, I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And . . . nothing that you could say or do, did, or didn't do could ever change that. Dad and I, we are so proud of you and Peeta." And then she scoops me into her arms, hugging me for the first time in a long time.
"Mom, I uh . . . I'm sorry, Mom. For how I've acted all these years; since Dad's accident. Prim told me about your mom; I didn't know, I wish—"
"Water under the bridge honey. You were right to be angry, I left you, and for that, I am so sorry— I cannot even begin to express the insurmountable shame and guilt I feel on a daily basis for my actions—"
"Mom, it's okay," I interject. "I understand now." I tell her and she smiles.
"Let's not fret about the past, let's just carry on from here." I nod, smiling. I didn't realize how much having my mother back would mean to me as the tear glides down my cheek.
"No tears. Your prep team will have my head on a platter if I mess up their fantastic work." She says, wiping the tear away. And then it's almost like my prep team never left when they come rushing back through the door.
"Sorry guys! Effie just arrived and she was adamant that we finish, that we are on a schedule!" Octavia chimes, shooing my mom out the door. Mom gives me a wink before she leaves, which sends a smile to my face.
"Ah! There's that pretty smile; see, I knew you had it in you. Now, where were we—" Octavia begins, but I don't hear what she says because out of nowhere, the familiar aroma of lemons slithers up my nostrils, reminding me of my time in the remake center.
"It's time to wax your legs." Vennia confirms, causing another scowl to appear on my face.
"What? Why!" I whine. "No one is going to even see my legs, it's the middle of winter!"
"Not in Eleven. It's nearly eighty degrees there. I just checked the weather, and they are forecasting perfectly clear, blue skies. Not a cloud in sight. But don't you worry, Portia and Cinna have stocked your closets with an abundance of clothes appropriate for each district." Octavia assures me, as if that is my main concern. I roll my eyes, cringing at the thought of our first stop on the tour. District Eleven is the home of Thresh and Rue. Was. They are dead now. They were our friends, our allies. How am I supposed to make it through this? With Peeta, that's how; I remind myself.
'We're going to make it through this Katniss. We're going to be okay. We'll convince Snow that we love each other, I mean, how hard could it be? We'll convince him and everyone in the districts, then everything will be okay.' I think he's trying to convince himself more so than me. But somehow, I don't think it's quite that simple.
"Isn't it thrilling?"
"Don't you feel so lucky?"
"In your very first year of being a victor, you get to be a mentor in a Quarter Quell!"
I shake my head as their words overlap in a blur of excitement, I can't even tell who said what first.
"Oh, Katniss! What are they doing to you?" I turn my head, thankful for the interruption to see Prim scrunching her face up.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Prim |
"Primrose, calm down . . . can't you sit still for one minute?" Dad asks me. I can't help it, I'm too excited. I have been bouncing all over the house from the moment I woke up and they told me I didn't have to go to school today. But that's not the complete reason for my excitement.
A few months ago, we were all eating dinner together; it was me, Mom, Dad, Katniss and Peeta, when out of the blue, the phone rang. I saw the nervous glares my sister shared with Peeta when Dad answered the phone and then said it was for her.
"H-hello?" Katniss' voice quavers with fear. And then just like that, all the fear and trepidation disappeared with just one word.
"CINNA!" She screamed into the receiver.
'Cinna?' Where have I heard that word before? And then it hits me; it was the night of the opening ceremonies when I heard Dad say, "Everything is happening just as planned, Cinna did it." I remember wondering who . . . or what a "Cinna" was. And now I know.
I'm really excited to meet this, Cinna. Not just excited, but like . . . over the moon, exploding at the seams, euphorically enraptured, excited. Katniss thinks the world of him, and she doesn't think very highly of that many people, least of all, people from the Capitol.
After bouncing around the house for four hours, he is finally here. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves and open the door to let him in.
"Well, hello! You must be the lovely Primrose Everdeen." He greets me and I can't suppress the elation I feel when I see him. He is just like Katniss said, warm, calm, seeming to emanate an aura of gentleness in just the tone of his voice.
"It's just Prim." I tell him cooly.
"Well, it is my pleasure, 'just Prim'. Cinna tells me. "If it's okay with your parents, I could use a little help." I look over to Mom and Dad, who give their nod of approval and then Cinna whisks me away.
He has a full wardrobe of outfits for Katniss, but he has also brought some other things he says he has been working on for me. The material is so soft, so delicate that I worry that if I pull on it too hard it might rip in half. Cinna lets me help him pick out what Katniss will be wearing for the interviews today.
"Why don't you go upstairs and check to see how they are coming along?" He suggests. Eager to please him, I take the stairs two at a time and burst through the doors to see my sister.
"Oh, Katniss! What are they doing to you?" I blurt out when I see her strapped in a chair, a lemony fragrance emanating from the room.
"Hey little duck. Aren't you supposed to be in school or something?"
"Nope!" I tell her, popping the 'P'. "I get special treatment because I am the beloved sister of a victor and she is leaving for the Victory Tour today." I grin, pulling a chair up next to Katniss.
"OWW!" Katniss screams in pain when Flavius rips more hair from her legs.
"Sorry Katniss." He shrugs, giving her a pained look. "If you weren't so hairy it wouldn't hurt nearly this bad. We're almost done though." He actually sounds genuine, still; I sigh, rolling my eyes at Katniss, who seems to find amusement in my expression.
"Don't look so happy, basking in my suffering." She whines.
"Sorry." I tell her and make a pouty face to conceal the grin.
"Don't you have something else to do?" She asks me with irritation in her voice.
"Well, I mean, yeah, but this is more fun." I giggle, and Katniss' prep team joins me, causing a scowl to appear on my sister's face.
I laugh and joke around with her prep team for a little while, which doesn't seem to please Katniss. I am so absorbed in everything they are doing to my sister, and then jump when I hear the girl called Octavia say, "Finally! Beauty base zero!"
"What's—"
"Trust me, you don't want to know." Katniss says.
"Aren't you so excited Katniss?" Vennia trills.
"About you guys ripping my hair out?" I can't help but giggle at her answer.
"No, silly girl! About the Quell. It's yours and Peeta's first year as mentor's and you get to do it in a Quell! Oooh, I wonder what the card will say this year? I, for one, am so excited!" I meet Katniss' eyes, and give her my "seriously" expression. Are these people ignorant or naive? By the look on Katniss' face I can tell this is the last thing she wants to talk about and decide to change the subject.
"Peeta is going to pass out when he sees you!" I blurt out.
"Why, because I look like something that belongs in a zoo?" I've heard about zoos, although, I've never actually been to one in real life. Apparently, a long time ago, a time before the Dark Days, people could visit the "zoo" to see all the animals throughout the world; all in one place.
"No Katniss, because you are breathtaking." I tell her, as if it isn't obvious and get up from my chair, circling her once to get an aerial view.
"You really think so?" She genuinely asks me. What I want to do is smack her upside her head and say "DUH!"
But I don't, instead I say, "Katniss, you are so blind sometimes. You could walk out in a burlap sack and Peeta would adore you."
"I wouldn't go that far." She rolls her eyes again. As smart as my sister is, she can be really stupid sometimes.
"Geez Katniss, you are so dense sometimes. Peeta loves you for you. Not for what you look like. Lord knows if it was for what you look like, he would have run away the first time you scowled at him." My joke causes another scowl to resurface on her face. Geez, she is extra testy today.
"Well, I'm going to get my dress on now." I give her a mischievous grin, refusing to give her the pleasure of ruining my exuberant mood and rush out the door.
"She is so sweet; I just adore your sister!" I hear Vennia from the other side of the door, just as Cinna comes up the stairs.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Peeta |
After Katniss rushed home to meet her prep team, I run up to my room and remove my Capitol crafted prosthesis, switching it out with the metal one I had Mr. Laurel, our local blacksmith make for me. It's not nearly as comfortable as the Capitol one, but I need to talk to Haymitch, and I can't do it with that thing attached to my body. Even though I've drowned it several times over in water, I am still too nervous to take any chances.
It pinches the skin on my leg as I run through the snow and then I see a flash of red, for some reason reminding me of my dad. "I'll stop by the bakery first and then see Haymitch on my way home." I tell myself as I pass Haymitch's house and head into town.
I look down at my watch that was a gift from Dylan, smiling when I remember what else he gave me that night. The watch isn't new, it once belonged to his father, and his father before him.
"Peeta, can you come with me over to my house? I need your help with something." Dylan asks just as I finish peeling and slicing the potatoes. Katniss and Madge just went upstairs to 'catch up' before Madge has to go home.
"Um . . ." I say, meeting Lilly's eyes before I agree to anything. She gives me a nod and something that looks like a sneaky smile.
"Go on Peeta, we're good here."
"Okay." I say unsteadily, getting up from the table and washing my hands. And then Dylan drags me over to his house. "So, what did you need my help with?" I ask him as he runs straight upstairs and into his room.
"Have a seat Peeta." He instructs me and I do as I'm told. He fumbles around in one of his drawers, sticking something into the breast pocket of his shirt before he joins me on the bed.
"First, I want you to have this." He says, handing me an antique looking watch. You can tell it has been passed down from generation to generation, but it's still in good condition. I take it, holding it in my hand and turning it over and over to inspect it.
"I— I can't . . . this is too . . . it's much too nice, I couldn't possibly." I tell him, handing it back to him.
"Peeta, this was my father's watch, and before it was his, it was his father's, and so on, and so on. My dad gave it to me just before I met Lilly, and I was supposed to give it to my son. Seeing as I bore two girls, I cannot give it to them, so I want you to have it." He says, pushing it back to me. Then he takes it from my hand, grabs my arm and begins to strap it on my wrist.
"I . . . I don't know what to say." I stutter, at a loss for words. Is he saying what I think he's saying?
"Say, 'Thank you, Dad.'" He chuckles.
The words thank you seem too inconsequential so I wrap my arms around his neck, giving him one of Rye's bear hugs.
Once we pull back from our embrace, he pulls something else out of his pocket. It's a tiny box; it looks like one of those boxes that are meant to hold a ring in the jewelers store. I open my mouth to protest once more and Dylan holds his hand up to stop me, his eyes closed as he shakes his head from side to side.
"I don't want to hear it Peeta. Lilly and I discussed this, and we both agreed that we want you to have it . . . for Katniss. We both see the way you two look at each other, and I know you talked about not doing this for a long, long, time. Whenever that time is . . . we want you to have this ring. I know it's not fancy and you could probably buy a much nicer, fancier one in the Capitol, but this one has been in my family for over one-hundred years."
I accept the box, holding it in my hand and inspect it just as I did the watch. If I was at a loss for words before, then I am now completely mute; turned into an avox. But he's wrong; it's more beautiful than anything I've ever seen. Sure it isn't fancy like the ones you might find in the Capitol, but something like this has no value to it. It is priceless. No amount of money could replicate the history this ring has.
"Dylan, I . . . I . . . it . . . I don't know what to say. It's perfect, and it IS beautiful." It is a small band, either silver or white gold, I'm not sure and it has the tiniest, most beautiful green emerald embedded into the band; Katniss' favorite color.
"Grandmama said true love follows this ring, wherever it goes."
"Lilly didn't want it?" I ask.
"Lilly wore it for a while, for many, many years actually. But she said she was ready to pass it down. So, this means if for some reason you and Katniss "break up", I'll be wanting this ring back." He says, joking.
"There is no one else for me, only Katniss."
I am jolted from my memory as I run into the door of the bakery. I take a step back and open the door, hearing the chiming of the bells. I smile; not realizing how much I missed them; all of them, until I see both of my parents and Rye standing in front of me.
"Well, if it isn't the little shit." My mother murmurs quietly under her breath, and my happy moment is over. I might be a little naive at times, but I'm not stupid and I know that she intentionally spoke loud enough for me to hear. Great. I think to myself. I came here because I wanted to see them, because after today I won't see them for over two weeks and already she's talking down to me.
"Hey Peet; Rye and I were about to head over to see you before you left. Is everything okay?" Dad asks me, his forehead wrinkling with concern. Rye runs up to me and wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground a few inches and spinning us around once.
"I don't care if my little brother is a fancy, important victor, I'm still bigger than you!" He teases me, putting me down so I can stand on my own. As much as I hate him sometimes, hate how he always teases me, I love him to death. I'm not sure I would have made it this far without Rye. "I missed you man. School just isn't the same without you; you're so lucky you don't have to go anymore."
I'll trade places with you. I want to say, but then think better of it. "I just wanted to stop by and see everyone before I left; you know, without all the cameras." I announce. Mother rolls her eyes at me and continues kneading the dough on the counter in front of her. I glance in the pastry case, deciding that I want to take something back with me.
"I'll take some of those." I tell Mother, pointing to the cheese buns. They're one of Katniss' favorites, although I know she'll complain that I didn't make them, it'll give us a little piece of home while we're away.
Dad greets me with a hug as well; not a clobbering one like Rye's though. "I've got to take care of some things in the back, but I'll see you before you leave okay?"
"Okay Dad." He ruffles my hair, planting a kiss to the top of my head. "I think I'm going to take you up on your offer." He whispers into my ear when he gives me a hug.
"Rye, can you give me a hand in the back?" Dad looks over to mom to make sure she didn't hear anything. Oblivious to our interaction, Rye nods and follows Dad through the revolving door, disappearing into the kitchen.
"What, you too good to bake your own bread now?" I am taken aback by my mother's harsh words and narrow my eyes at her, feeling more hurt than I probably should. I need to stop getting my hopes up, believing that one day she is just going to miraculously love me. Yeah, when hell freezes over, I think to myself.
"No— it's just that my prep team will be arriving soon, and I didn't think they would appreciate me being covered in flour." I tell her defensively. Not to mention I wouldn't have time to clean up afterwards. I'm sure Lilly and Dylan, and probably even Prim would have done it for me, but I don't want them to have to do that.
"Well, you know you have to pay for them, right? Not all of us get to live in a big, fancy mansion with our buckets and buckets of money." She admonishes, packaging up a dozen of the cheese buns. I want to tell her that perhaps if she hadn't spent her life using me as her own personal punching bag, or maybe if she had treated me with even a modicum of respect that it's quite possible that things would be different. Instead, I just accept another verbal lashing from her. My being a victor; surviving the arena has made no difference in how she sees me, how she treats me. I guess some things will never change; Graham will always and forever be the golden son.
I need to make things right with my mother, but I don't know how to go about it.
"Mom, I . . . I wanted to tell you something before I left." I begin, feeling the palms of my hands begin to sweat in anticipation.
"Peeta, stop mumbling, you know I can't stand that. And you're not going off to the games again, we know you're coming back alive this time, so I don't see what all the fuss is about." Oh, if she only knew. My life is probably in more danger now than it ever was before. No, not probably; it IS.
"I know Mom. It's just . . . I just wanted you to know . . . I love you, Mom." I manage to get the words out and walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I'm not sure what I expected, I definitely didn't expect her to return the sentiment. But what she does next completely throws me for a loop. She peels my arms off of her, her face contorting into an expression of disgust.
"Peeta, I don't have time for your childish shenanigans, I have work to do. Don't you have somewhere to be? Surely, a big shot victor such as yourself has better things to be doing than getting all sentimental." Biting my tongue, I nod my head and turn my back to her, fighting the tears. I push the door open and take the long way home, allowing the tears to fall with the flurries of snow.
Once the tears subside, I hear Katniss' voice in my head, and the corners of my lips turn up at her question.
'What does he do, drink the stuff?' She asks herself; I can only assume she is referring to our dear president and how his body reeked of roses and blood.
'I wouldn't put it past him.' I retort, thankful for the distraction.
'Is your prep team there too?' Katniss asks me.
'No, not yet." I tell her, although not quite certain, since I am not home yet. "Were you able to talk to either of your parents before yours got a hold of you?' I ask her as I make my way toward my house.
'No, the second I walked in they scooped me away, chastising me about my hairy face.' I convey a chuckle to Katniss, visualizing a scowl on her face.
'That wasn't meant to be funny.' She grumbles; if she wasn't scowling before, I definitely know, without a doubt that she is scowling now. For some reason when I picture her scowl it makes me think of Haymitch. Crap! I was so distraught over my interaction with my mother that I completely forgot to stop by Haymitch's house. Great. Now there will be no time whatsoever to speak to him about our visitor.
"Oh, my heavens, Peeta, we missed you so much!" Sapphire greets me when I walk into my house. I almost don't recognize her without the deep emerald color of her hair. It is still short and spiky like the last time I saw her, but it is now a deep indigo blue; almost matching her name. It is so blue that it's almost black.
Sapphire, along with Henna and Artemis almost knock me down giving me a hug. When I finally wriggle out of their arms, I do a double take when I see that Sapphire is not the only one to have changed their appearance. Artemis' once chocolate colored hair with green and purple highlights, that reached her calves is now cut clear up to her ears. She too has modified the color of her hair to a crimson red with orange, yellow and purple highlights. I try to give them a smile, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes and they immediately notice it. "Peeta, what's wrong? Why the long face?" She asks me.
0 - 0 - 0 - 0
| Portia |
"Portia, oh Portia, I so deeply, deeply apologize for interrupting you, but you must come at once!" Artemis rushes into Peeta's art studio where I am collecting the paintings Peeta has given me permission to use on display in the Capitol. I meet her eyes, frozen in fear for a moment.
"What's wrong Artemis?"
"I . . . we don't know, Peeta— he just started crying and we cannot get him to stop! Please! Oh, Portia, we are at a loss as to what to do!" Artemis shrills, grabbing my arm and pulling me along with her. Together, we make our way across the hall to the bedroom they have converted into a dressing room of sorts.
When I get into the room, I rush to Peeta's side and take a seat on the bed next to him. He is sitting upright on the edge of his bed, face in his hands. Artemis was right, he is crying, as I can hear the sniffles from my spot next to him.
Deciding that I need to keep my team busy and offer Peeta some privacy, I hand Sapphire the list of paintings to gather. "I need you guys to finish collecting these canvases and then double check his wardrobe for Eleven." I tell Artemis and Sapphire, inspiring them to rush out of the room, eager to be of use.
"Henna, why don't you go into the other room and get the shower ready for Peeta?" I suggest, and just like the others, he bolts from the room, looking sympathetically at Peeta.
Once they are gone, I close the door and return to my seat next to Peeta. I place my hand on his, lowering the appendage from his face.
"What's wrong Peeta? Are you hurt? Did something happen?" I ask him, keeping my voice soft and gentle. He meets my gaze, his eyes red and puffy from crying.
"No, no, I'm not hurt. I'm okay. I— I'm sorry Portia, I don't mean to be crying like a little baby." He sniffles, fighting more tears.
"What happened Peeta? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but my ears are open if you do."
The corners of his mouth turn up and then he takes a deep breath, telling me everything. The more he speaks, the angrier I get. I fidget in place, wanting to get up and march over to his family's bakery and smack the woman who is his mother. Anger courses through my veins at the audacity of this woman. I don't know what to do or say to alleviate Peeta's pain, so I just pull him into my arms and hold him. The tears come again, but not as intense as when I first entered the room. I do not say a word, remaining silent as I hold him, and allow him to cry.
The tears flow and flow until finally, he sits up. "I'm sorry Portia, I know I need to get ready. I think . . . I think I just needed to get it all out."
"Peeta, you don't have to apologize. You did nothing wrong. That woman— she—" I bite my tongue to refrain from saying anything I may regret.
"It shouldn't surprise me, I mean, I'm not surprised, but it still hurts. I don't know why I let her get to me, it's just . . . I don't know; she's my mom. Why can't she just pretend to care sometimes? I don't know what I did to make her hate me so much. I'm sorry Portia, I don't mean to be whining like a little baby."
Peeta is far from a "little baby," he is a survivor. Of more than just the games, too. "Peeta, you have every right to feel hurt and betrayed by your mother. If it makes you feel any better, I love you." I tell him, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.
"It does. Help, I mean. Thank you, Portia." He takes a deep breath and straightens his back. "Suck it up, Mellark." He says more to himself than to me. "Okay, I'm ready Portia, what do we need to do?"
Just as I am about to send him to the shower, I notice something shiny and metal sticking out at the bottom of his pant leg. "Peeta, what happened to your leg?" I ask, noticing that it is not the Capitol one I watched Corri give to him.
"Oh . . . um . . . it's my spare. I— I'll go switch it." He tells me quickly, and I wonder if he had someone craft him a leg due to the listening device in the other one.
"Why don't we start by getting you washed up? Henna should be upstairs preparing your shower by now, so why don't you head over there? You know, wash the sadness away. But . . . "
"I know, I'll switch it first." He promises.
"Okay, I'll leave you to it. See you on the other side." I tell him, giving him a hug before I go. And then I leave the room, offering him some privacy and pull out my list to see what I need to do next. All the while, trying to keep myself busy in an attempt to distract myself from rushing to the bakery and giving Mrs. Mellark a piece of my mind.
0 – 0 – 0 - 0
| Haymitch |
The moment we boarded the train, everyone went to their separate corners for some much-needed time to ourselves. I take that back; the kids went off together, refusing to be separated any longer, while the rest of us went to our own compartments. It isn't until our second night when everyone is finally all in the same room again.
"You guys did good. Running into each other's arms like that, falling on top of the boy in the snow; that was priceless!" I boast, recalling my kids on camera. I unscrew the lid to my flask, bringing it up to my lips and taking a swig.
"Uh, thanks." Sweetheart mumbles, moving the food around on her plate. I wonder what's got her in such a bad mood. I mean, she isn't usually much for small talk, but something is off with her tonight; more so than usual, anyway.
Effie is the last one to arrive at the table shortly after dinner is served. Something is eating away at her too; it's written all over her face. She isn't her usual, chipper, bubbly self. Not only that, but she was the last one to arrive at the table when she is always the first one here. Her and her damn schedules.
"I, for one, thought they were just sublime!" Portia beams, smiling at Peeta. I notice some kind of unspoken message between those two as well. Shit. What the hell is wrong with everyone tonight?
Effie picks her fork up, impaling a piece of meat on the spokes and shovels the food into her mouth. Very un-lady like if you ask me, but what the hell do I know? I can't help but notice her screwed up face as she chews her food for a moment; as if she just took a bite out of a lemon and not a piece of steak.
Suddenly, the train comes to an abrupt halt, and the unforeseen shift in gravity causes the table to slide across the room, spilling its contents onto the floor.
"What in crimney's—" Effie growls through gritted teeth, standing up from the table to reveal the contents of her wine glass all over her lap. She storms out of the dining car going off on a tangent. I raise an eyebrow and meet Cinna's eyes as we hear Effie shouting about improper this and wretched that.
"Must I place a call to your superiors to inform them of the disastrous nature of your performance? This is supposed to be a Capitol train for my victor's and not a train herding cattle!" The five of us hear Effie, her voice growing smaller and smaller as she gets further and further away.
"What's got her in such a mood?" I ask, taking another swig from my flask. Everyone is still sitting in their chairs with their silverware in hand, looking at the table on the other side of the room.
"Who knows, but now we're off schedule, and it's going to be a big, big day!" Katniss rolls her eyes, mimicking Effie.
"Katniss, stop. Don't make fun of Effie." The boy scolds her.
"Someone should go to her." Portia suggests, looking directly at me.
"Don't look at me, that woman hates me."
"Fine, I'll go." The girl says, standing up from her chair when the boy grabs her arm. He gives her a look that says Don't you dare, but no words come out of his mouth. I wonder if they are doing that "silent talking" thing again.
"Dammit, fine, I'll go. Looks like we're stuck here anyway. Nothing better to do, I s'pose." I grumble and go on a search for Trinkie.
My first stop is her compartment, which I find empty. I search every possible room on the train and still can't find her. "Where the hell are ya, Trinkie?" I speak into the air, hoping nothing bad happened to her. I make my way off the train and suck in a deep breath I didn't even realize I was holding when I see her. She is pacing back and forth; apparently having a conversation with herself, which causes the corners of my lips to curve up.
"What the hell was that all about?" She jumps at the sound of my voice, her face flushing with embarrassment.
"Oh my, Haymitch. I was, oh my goodness, I was—" She stumbles over her words, hiding her face behind her hands.
"Yeah . . . you were kind of ridiculous. Well, I mean, you were just kinda acting like . . . like the "old" you." I tell her. "Come on, let's stretch our legs. Train's not going anywhere for a while." She nods and we take off, getting away from prying eyes.
Effie is the first to break our silence on our little walk. "I suppose I shall tell you now, what I came to tell you when I first arrived at your residence."
I lift an eyebrow, asking her "What?" with my eyes.
"Haymitch, I . . . I can't do this anymore." She admonishes, closing her eyes with a slight shake of her head.
"You can't do what?"
She inhales a refreshing breath and slowly opens her eyes to look at me. "Once the tour has reached its completion, I plan to hand in my resignation." She informs me with her head held high. Frozen in shock, I tense up as fear consumes me at the thought of the Capitol sending someone in her place.
"What, why? Because we won't be on time? Because of a little cold food? Come on Trinkie, don't be ridiculous."
"Don't worry Haymitch, they will send someone to replace me. Escorts will be lining up to have Katniss and Peeta. You; not so much." She tries to lighten the mood by joking around but this is no joking matter. She can NOT quit on me; she just can't.
"Effie . . . I . . . you can't . . . you can't leave Katniss and Peeta in the hands of . . . of one of them." I spit the words out, using her actual name to convey how serious I am. I see a slight shudder course through her at the mention of one of her peers in her place. As much as I don't want to admit it, Effie and I are a team, Katniss and Peeta, well, they're kind of like our kids.
"No Haymitch, it is not because of the food, nor due to the delay. It is because of . . . well, because of Katniss and Peeta." A heated anger surges through me, wondering what the hell the kids could have possibly done to push Effie into wanting to quit. She can't quit, we need her. The kids need her. I need her.
"What did they do? You tell me, and I'll set them straight." I tell her, gripping tightly onto my flask. Whatever happened to bring her to this decision; I have to fix it. I will fix it.
She shakes her head and gently places her perfectly manicured hand on top of mine. I think it's the first time I've ever seen her without gloves on. She has such soft, delicate hands. Wait— what?
"No, Haymitch, they didn't do . . . they—" She pauses as she looks into my eyes, then averts them to the ground. "— they made me . . . love them." She continues looking at the ground as if she is embarrassed. As if loving two kids is a crime. But what do I know? Maybe in the Capitol it is. Still, I can't help the deep belly laugh that erupts from me.
"So what?" I cackle, trying to subdue my laughter. I might not have said it out loud, but hell, I love the damn brats too. It's kind of hard not to. The boy— well, he's easy to care about and the girl; well, let's just say she reminds me so much of myself before I turned into the wasted asshat that I am today. And I intend to do everything in my power to ensure that she never comes within miles of my behavior.
"Haymitch, I . . . I can't . . . I just can't do this anymore. I cannot bear to listen to their screams in the middle of the night. Katniss . . . she wakes up several times throughout the night in a hysterical fit of screams. And Peeta . . . Haymitch, have you seen his paintings? He paints his nightmares . . . of the games. I just . . . I cannot bear to sit around and witness their suffering, knowing that I am powerless to do anything to alleviate their pain. Once the tour is over, I will be left alone to my devices. I will have no one by my side to understand my suffering."
"Oh, come on, don't you have friends in the Capitol?" I ask her playfully.
"Oh, please!" She bellows, glaring at me. "My friends in the Capitol . . . they relish in the games. And I . . . perhaps I was once like that, but that is no longer me. I cannot simply go back to the way it was before. Trust me, I have tried." I see the pain clearly etched in her features and I find myself wanting to erase it away. But she's right. The Effie Trinket I first met all those years ago died a long time ago. She died alongside Rosemary. That was the year I noticed the shift in Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort. It was the years that followed her death that led me to trust her. Trust her enough to bring her in . . . just enough to ask her to call a certain name. And she did it, without hesitation. Without asking a single question. I told her it would make all the difference . . . and she just . . . did it.
"Effie, please . . . just . . . don't quit yet. Let me talk to the others—" I beg; pleading with her but her face remains a hardened shell. For many years she has practiced this cynical, stoic expression; the one she uses when she is being stubborn, when changing her mind is no longer an option. But I have to change it, I can't do this without her.
"Haymitch, I am quitting. Nothing you say will sway my decision . . . nothing short of promising me an end to the games."
They're probably going to be pissed as hell at me for making this call on my own, but we need Effie Trinket. And she's loyal to my kids. That's all I need to know . . . and I trust her.
"That's exactly what I'm saying." The words seem to slip out of their own volition. "What if I told you there was a group of us, and that is our exact intentions?" I continue.
"Haymitch, the six of us do not constitute—"
"No, Effie, it's more than just us. LOTS more. Like dozens and dozens of us, from each district."
"You mean—"
"Rebels." I confirm with a nod, my lips set in a firm line.
She stops in her tracks, her eyes going huge and looks at me. "I beg your pardon?" She asks, as if I stuttered or something.
"What if I said there was a group of us . . . our intentions to put an end to the games? That when I asked you to call the name "Primrose Everdeen", well, that was step one. Would that change your mind? Come on Trinkie, I can't do this without you. Please reconsider; you can't quit on me now."
Her entire being perks up and the corners of her mouth turn up in a radiant smile. "What must I do to assist in the cause? Please Haymitch, tell me how I can help our darling children."
I smile at her sentiment. "For now, I just need you to play your part; keep acting like the "old you". And I'll talk to the others. Do you think you can do that? For Katniss and Peeta?" For me? The thought pops into my head, causing a stirring in my belly. Where the hell'd that come from? I think silently.
"Yes, yes, I certainly can. I should return and apologize for my behavior. No, no; I did nothing wrong. I should act as if I am above everyone else; as if they were in the wrong. I will return as if nothing is amiss. Thank you Haymitch."
Now it's my turn to be confused. "For what?"
"For trusting me." She smiles, leaning over and giving me a hug.
Okay. That was weird.
Her entire demeanor changes from sad and sullen to glowing, radiating a brilliant light and full of life. We walk back toward the train and she disappears inside, yapping orders to the attendants.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Cinna |
"Looks like you were the right one to send." Portia tells Haymitch as we watch Effie re-enter the train, bossing the attendants around again as if she hadn't just had her little tantrum. Portia and I decided to take a walk to stretch our legs; and to make sure Effie and Haymitch weren't killing each other, only to see Effie with a little extra pep in her step.
"Yeah, I guess." Haymitch mumbles. Although he is slouched over and acts grumpy, I can see that Effie's change in demeanor pleases him. "What are you guys up to?"
"Since the train is not planning on moving for a while, Portia and I thought it would be a great opportunity to take a walk and stretch our legs. Would you care to join us?" I ask Haymitch, hinting that there is something we need to discuss.
"Sure, why not?" Haymitch turns around and we follow him down the same path we saw him and Effie coming back from.
We make small talk until we get far enough away, feeling confident that no listening devices can pick our words up. Haymitch shoves his hands into his pocket, retrieving a coin. I immediately recognize it as Beetee's creation to drown out the Capitol's listening devices. He looks surprised when he sees it, which makes me think he didn't even realize he had it with him.
"What's up?" He keeps the coin pinched between his fingers.
"We have been unable to reach Plutarch—" I begin.
"Do you think . . . does Snow know about him?" Haymitch interrupts me, anxiety prevalent in his features.
"No . . . no, it's not that. He's just too high up and is constantly surrounded by Snow's guys."
"Well, how'd we get in touch with Crane when he was the Head?"
"We used Plutarch." Portia says.
"Oh. Well shit. Damn. What . . . how—"
"Portia had an idea . . . which I thought was rather brilliant of someone we could use. We thought we should first run it by you. You see, we need someone close to the games, someone who wouldn't look suspicious when striking up a conversation with Plutarch. Someone like . . ."
"Someone like a Capitol escort." Portia interjects with much excitement.
Haymitch chuckles at her suggestion, "Then I guess it's a good thing I talked her into not quitting." Haymitch boasts proudly, grinning from ear to ear.
"You did what?" I ask, more shocked than anything else. I have never doubted Effie's love and devotion for Katniss and Peeta, but since she is a Capitol escort, I am aware that there are some who may have their doubts.
"I didn't tell her much; she was more concerned about what she could do to help Katniss and Peeta." Haymitch begins, giving us a rundown of his conversation with Effie. "She doesn't know about you guys, or anyone actually. Her only concern was how she could be of help to the kids." Haymitch tells us.
"I was just telling Katniss and Peeta what an asset Effie was; how we'd all be lost without that woman." Portia gleams.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Effie |
"How are we supposed to do this Katniss? Get up on stage and tell the people of District Eleven that we're sorry for their loss when we're the reason their kids are dead? How are we supposed to look them in the eye after all that we did?" I hear my darling Peeta confide to Katniss as I walk down the hall. I know it is rude to eavesdrop, but something is compelling me to stay.
"Together Peeta, that's how." Katniss replies, and I can just imagine her pulling Peeta into her embrace as she tries to offer him comfort.
"I don't think I can do it Katniss."
"Do what?"
"Get up on the stage and read from those cards. Read the words the Capitol has written for us when Thresh and Rue . . . they weren't just tributes Katniss; they weren't just our allies. They were more than that, and I don't know, I think it would feel . . . I don't know . . . wrong to just . . . read the cards."
"Then don't do it. We'll give our own thanks; we'll speak from our hearts." I smile, tiptoeing away from my darling children as I make my way to my compartment when I bump into Haymitch.
"Oh! Just the beautiful lady I was looking for!" He rants. He must be drunk, Haymitch is never this cheerful. I snatch the glass from his hands, putting it up to my lips and turning it back, a shiver coursing through me as the vile liquid enters my body.
"Blech! How do you drink this stuff?" I ask as he pulls me to the last car on the train. The one with the remote-control windows that allow fresh air to enter, disabling any listening devices.
"Okay, we don't have long, and I need your help." Haymitch begins, all traces of inebriation have vanished. Oh, so he was just faking.
"What is it Haymitch?" I ask with a concerned look on my face.-
"I know you have the cards the Capitol gave you for the kids to read in Eleven, but I need your help to find a way to tell them not to . . . I need to find a way to get them to truly speak to the people of Eleven. I don't think it should be hard, since they were allies and all—"
"Haymitch—" I begin but he cuts me off.
"I know, I know, you gotta follow the schedule and the rules and blah, blah, blah. But this is a big deal Effie, this is the first step in making a difference."
"Haym—"
"Come on, Trinkie, you said you wanted to help—"
"Haymitch, would you shut up and allow me to speak?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. His eyes are apologetic as he nods his head.
"On my way to my compartment, I passed by the children's room and accidentally overheard them talking."
"Yeah? And?"
"And, well . . . Peeta was asking Katniss how they were going to get up on stage and read off the cards, to which Katniss suggested they do the exact opposite and give their own thanks to the people of District Eleven. I believe at this very minute; they are compiling their own words for the speeches. But Haymitch, I do not understand, how will this make any difference?"
"Because it's not the same thing as every other year. It makes them human, makes them real. Of course, the Capitol will probably cut the feed once they realize what is happening, but it'll be enough to make a difference. It'll give the people hope, something to fight for."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Madge |
"Madge, hey Madge, wait up!" I turn my head to see who is calling my name. After Katniss and Peeta left, I stopped by the mayor's house for Kizzie's piano lesson. Mayor Kadinski offered to give me the day off because of all the festivities today, but I insisted it was okay. Really, I did it more for myself than for Kizzie, as selfish as that is. But with the stress of what my friends will be faced with, I needed my music. I needed for my fingers to press the familiar keys and for my mind to be inundated with the soothing melody of Nocturne #20 in C Sharp Minor. It is my go-to piece when I am stressed out.
"Hey Rye, what are you doing all the way out here?" I ask him, slightly confused. We are on the edge of town, almost in the Seam and pretty far from the bakery.
"Sorry— let me— catch my— breath!" He huffs. I stop walking to give him a minute to regain control of his lungs. His hair is a disheveled mess, and he has that same goofy grin that he always wears. "Geez, you walk fast." He finally says after a moment.
I raise an eyebrow, not sure what he means. "I do?" 'Well, I was on the track team, back when Katniss and Peeta were in school.' I smirk silently to myself.
"Yeah, I've been trying to catch up with you since the fourth house past the mayor's mansion— which is when I finally decided to yell your name."
"Oh, okay. Well, what's up?"
"Oh, yeah. Right. Um, so Peet said I could come find you and you would give me a key to his house. He said I could stay there some while he was gone."
"Oh yeah. Peeta told me you would probably ask for it. If you want to follow me to my house, I can give it to you."
"Okay, cool." Together we continue walking, making our way to my house. I am thankful for Rye's constant joking banter, keeping away from any serious talk until I can just barely make out the silhouette of my house.
"Madge, something is going on with Katniss and Peeta, and I think Haymitch might be in on it, I'm not sure. But I'm worried about my little brother. I know you have been friends with them for a long time, so . . . I don't know, maybe this is a long shot, but do you know anything? I swear, I'm not trying to be nosy, I'm just worried. I'm actually— Madge, should I be worried?"
His question takes me by surprise, it was the last thing I ever expected to hear from the school's number one jokester, Rye Mellark. The shock freezes me in place for a split-second, but I quickly resume walking, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Rye, it's not safe to speak right here." I whisper, keeping my eyes trained forward. "When we're in class tomorrow, I will tell you where we can meet to talk." I never look over to see if he heard me and then my heart accelerates when I realize my house is within a few steps. "I really love the cookies at the bakery!" I chirp, finally meeting his eyes. He nods, understanding the message I was trying to convey.
I reach into my pocket, retrieving my house key and unlock my door. Rye follows me inside, closing the door behind him.
"This is really nice Madge." Rye says, trying to be polite when he looks around at the tiny home. I roll my eyes and make my way into the kitchen where I stowed Peeta's key. He asked me to keep it in a secure location in case either Rye or his dad were to ask for it.
"It's okay Rye, I know it's shit here. But I'm making it work. I don't need much." I tell him, discreetly pulling the key from its secret location. Just in case Rye saw it, I'll have to move my box somewhere else. I can't risk anyone finding out about its contents.
I walk over to Rye and hand him the key to Peeta's house. "Here you go. Don't lose it, I don't have another one."
"Thanks Madge. See you at school tomorrow?"
"See you at school tomorrow." I confirm.
Once Rye is gone, I plop down on my couch and look around the house. Where can I move my box? I ask myself. My tiny little box, handcrafted by my very own father from the wood of an oak tree is no more than seven and a half inches wide, four and a half inches long, and about two inches deep. For the moment, it only houses Katniss' house key, my special book, a letter my father wrote me and two letters I found that my mother wrote me. Rose gave me the first letter from my mother after they died. In each letter, mama has left a trail of breadcrumbs leading to another letter; scattered throughout the district. Oh, and there is also this coin my father left me. I haven't figured out its purpose, but it must be important, otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered keeping it a secret.
I am constantly moving my box, afraid of someone finding it. I alternate between a few hiding spots in a few select trees but having it in my house makes me feel safer. Somewhere within reach.
I stand up and begin pacing the floor of the living room. "Why is Rye worried? Did he see something? Hear something? Did Peeta tell him anything?" I ask myself, still looking for a new hiding place for my box. Just then, the floorboard creaks under my foot. I take a step back and it creaks again. Curiosity overtakes me and I get down on my knees to inspect the plank, only to find it loose. It's loose, but not that loose. Eventually, I am able to pry it up.
"Holy shit!" I exclaim when I see what is hidden underneath the floorboard. It is a hidden compartment, a perfect place for my box. But there is something else here too. It looks like someone else had the same idea as me. It is a box, almost the exact same dimensions as mine, except it has a mockingjay carved on the face of it, where my box displays a tree, with my initials engraved on the inside.
I switch the boxes out and replace the plank, sliding my couch over it. No one ever comes over here, and if Gale happens to pop in, he will just think I rearranged the room. As if on cue, the moment I am done, there is a knock at the door.
"Gale." I say, surprised when I see him.
"Everything okay?" He asks, raising a brow.
"Yeah, I just wasn't expecting you, that's all." I tell him, trying to play it cool.
"Can I come in?" He asks me.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course." I widen the door for him to come in and then wrap my arms around his neck, needing the security of his touch.
Something is wrong though; I can sense the tension in the air. I pull back to meet his eyes and ask, "Is something wrong?"
"Vick said he thought he saw Rye Mellark over here."
"He saw right." I confirm, nodding.
"What was he doing over here?" Oh, I see, jealous Gale is coming out to play.
"He came to get Peeta's house key." His eyes narrow at my statement; I do not like where this is going.
"Why did you even have it?" He demands, his eyes narrowing as he glares daggers at me accusingly.
"What's with the third-degree Gale?" I demand, narrowing my own eyes and furrowing my brows. I can glare just as efficiently as he can; better even.
"I don't like Rye Mellark; I don't want you talking to him. He's a townie, and bad news at that."
"I'm sorry, what did you say? You don't wantme talking to him? Who are you, my father? And just in case you forgot, I'm a townie too Gale!" I scream at him, feeling the blood in my body begin to simmer.
"He's an asshole and I don't want you talking to him Madge. And you're not a townie, you live here in the Seam, same as me."
"Okay, first of all Gale Hawthorne, I was born and lived in town up until six months ago. I have "townie" friends that I'm not just going to abandon simply because of a change in venue." I don't realize it, but with each word that escapes my mouth, my voice seems to get higher; louder; angrier. "Second of all, you do NOTtell me who I can or cannot talk to. I am a big girl Gale; I can take care of myself and I think it's time you left." I walk over to the door and open it, motioning for him to leave.
"Madge, I—"
"GET OUT!" I scream even louder.
His shoulders are hunched over as he walks out the door and then I slam it behind him just as he turns around and says my name.
"Fucking shithead. Asshole, mother-fucker!" I scream to no one. "Who does he think he is, telling mewho I can talk to? I don't think so, Rye is my friend and I'll talk to him whenever I damn well please!" I rant; although no one is listening, it feels satisfying to yell the words out loud. I wish Katniss was still here, I bet she'd march over there and slap him or something.
"Pgh. Tell me what to do, Gale Hawthorne? I don't think so."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Katniss |
"Why do you think everyone is acting so weird?" I ask Peeta. We decided to sleep in Peeta's old room since "my room" reminds us too much of being herded off to the slaughter for the games. Peeta is pacing back and forth while I stare at the dots on the ceiling.
'Did you bring your other leg?' I ask him, remembering the day he came home with the "leg" he asked our local blacksmith to fashion for him. The one he wears when we need to have important conversations with Haymitch. He doesn't need it when he and I have conversations because we talk in our heads, but Haymitch doesn't have that capability. It's genius if you ask me.
Still pacing, Peeta nods with his fingers in his mouth, biting at the skin; a new nervous habit of his.
'There is something they're not telling us, something they're leaving out. I feel like they all know something, like they're all keeping a secret from us. I just . . . I don't know what it could be . . . I don't know Katniss and it's driving me crazy!' Peeta says, still pacing and running his fingers through his hair.
I sit up, bored of the dots on the ceiling and pull Peeta to the bed. He doesn't fight me; he just sits down. I scoot behind him, propping myself up on my knees and massage the tension from his neck. He immediately relaxes as I work my way down to his shoulders, trying to loosen up the knots bulging from his neck.
"Better?" I ask him.
"Mmm hmmm . . ." He responds.
'Katniss, you know we can't do what Snow wants, right?'
'I know Peeta, but we also can't make it seem like we are outright defying him either.' Yes, Snow needs to think we are abiding by his rules, otherwise— well, lives are at stake.
'So, what will we do? How do we do it?'
'I think this is one of those moments where we're just going to have to wing it.' Winging it. Playing it by ear. Last minute decisions. I detest all of those phrases. I like to know what I'm walking into; I like having a plan. I am not good at winging it. But I guess I am going to have to learn how to be.
Once Peeta relaxes, we change into our pajamas and crawl into bed. I fall asleep on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart, just like I do every night.
"Katniss, Katniss? Is that you Katniss? It's me. It's Thresh. Can you hear me?"
I turn my head to the left to see Thresh walking towards me. He looks just like he did that first night we were together in the arena. He looks well, his face is bright, filled out and full of life; almost as if he's glowing. In other words, he looks healthy and not like a rotting corpse.
"Thresh, is that . . . is it really you?" I smile when I see him and it feels as if my entire being has lit up with a brilliant light at the sight of him.
"Oh Katniss! I am so glad you're okay, I thought . . . I'm just so glad." He runs up to me and wraps his arms around my neck. "Listen, we don't have much time, so I need you to listen carefully."
"Okay." I nod and he pulls me to a bench where we sit down. We are outside somewhere; there are so many trees . . . and I smell . . . apples? Wherever we are, it's more beautiful than anything I have ever seen.
"Katniss, this is important, so I need you to remember this okay. You can't play along with their game; you have to be yourself. Tell them what you really think, how you really feel; they'll want to know. And my mom; when you see her, I need you to give her a message for me. Will you do that for me? Please?"
"A message? What kind of message? And how will I know who your mother is?"
"Katniss, I need you to tell my mom, her name is Roberta, I need you to tell her that I found the rainbow. Tell her I found the rainbow and it's more beautiful than anything she ever described. Now, tell me what you are going to tell her."
"Your mother, Roberta; you want me to tell her you found the rainbow and it's beautiful. More beautiful than she said."
Thresh smiles, nodding his head "And remember, you and Peeta, you make your own rules." He finishes and then just like that, he vanishes into thin air.
"Thresh, Thresh! THRESH, WHERE ARE YOU, WHERE DID YOU GO!?"
"Katniss, Katniss wake up. Katniss baby, wake up, it's okay. It's just a nightmare." I open my eyes to Peeta's worried ones staring back at me. Wait a minute, did he just call me baby?
"I need a piece of paper, hurry, now, now, please!" I shout, ignoring the fact that Peeta just used a pet name, something he knows I detest. He gets up and pulls a notepad from the nightstand drawer, handing it to me, along with a pencil.
I take the pencil and scribble everything I can remember from my dream.
"Katniss, what's going on?" Peeta asks, clearly confused by my antics. He doesn't need to look over my shoulder to read what I have written, he heard it in his head as I was writing it down.
'Thresh's mom – Roberta. Thresh found the rainbow – it's more beautiful than she said.'
"I don't understand." He admonishes.
"Me either, it was in my dream." 'I don't even know if it was real or just something my brain made up . . . but I feel like it's important.'
'Okay. We'll see if we can find out.' He promises.
"Katniss! Katniss! Are you up yet? It's time to prepare for the day!" I hear my pets on the other side of the door. I think they're looking for me in my room, which is just across the hall.
"I guess it's time to get up. It's going to be another big, big, big day!" I mumble, rolling my eyes.
"I'll distract them so you can sneak back into your room." Peeta tells me. Although Haymitch is aware of mine and Peeta's sleeping arrangement, it is considered improper for a girl to spend the night with a boy if they are unwed in the Capitol. Plus, it's kind of nice to have somewhere to hide where they can't find me.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0
| Peeta |
It was hours before Katniss was deemed presentable by her prep team and I was able to see her again. As soon as she was done, I went straight to her and scooped her away, pulling her to the last car on the train. The windows are electric and all you have to do is press a button and they disappear into the ceiling, allowing us some fresh air. Together, we sit in the last car as we make our grand entrance to Eleven.
Other than the Capitol, it is the place we are most dreading. We didn't kill either of their tributes; Thresh and Rue were both our allies and friends. Katniss and I were both present (although, not together) as they died. We held them in our arms as they breathed their last breath. I painted Rue a beautiful picture with my words, giving her a make-believe, picture-perfect life. Katniss held Thresh and embellished him with a song for comfort, followed by performing Twelve's death right's.
We take a seat on the bench, watching the world pass us by in flashes. We go under some kind of tunnel where everything is pitch black for a moment. Katniss squeezes my hand and I think, like me, she's taken back to our arena when the gamemaker's blinded us. When we come out of the tunnel, there is a brief moment of light before we're back in another tunnel. But in that briefest of moments, I see something. Or at least I think I see it.
'Katniss?'
'I saw it too, Peeta.' She confirms. It was an image of the two of us. The picture of Katniss was like a coin spinning over and over again. First, it was her face and then she was replaced with an image of her mockingjay symbol. And mine. I don't understand it. It was my face and then it transformed into what looked like a jabberjay. It was so fast, had I blinked I would have missed it.
"Well, that's different." I say, shocked by the thirty-foot-high fence and the barbed wire lining it. The district is massive, more massive than I ever could have imagined. I remember Thresh and Rue telling us about it, but this . . . it's like ten times the size of Twelve. And we are making our way straight into it, head on.
x-x-x-x
A/N: Whew, another massive chapter for you guys! Please do not hesitate to drop me a line (or more if you're feeling generous) to let me know what you thought. What did you like? Not like? Questions, comments, opinions, feedback, criticism, and everything in-between are all welcome :) Remember, Monday is my birthday and I would just love, love, love to hear what you thought :)
I'm still looking for a beta/pre-reader, so please let me know if anyone is interested. You can send me a message on here, or email me at " "
Find me on Tumblr, I'm " ameliaodair"
If you want to see a picture of Madge's box, check out my Tumblr page, I'll be posting it later today. The "BOX" is actually my son's that he got from his grandparents for a Hanukkah gift, so just imagine that, but with Madge's initials engraved on the inside.
Just FYI, Effie's "pet peeve" about the socks . . . not being able to stand putting a sock she has worn, even if it was just for a few minutes (after taking it off) Yep, you guessed it, that's me! Let's just say, I have SoOoOoOo may pairs of socks at home
And finally . . . from Chapter 5, our line comes from Peeta:
"Sure. Let's get married!" I say and storm back down the way we came and somehow, find myself back on the train.