Chapter 18: Fantasizing

Up here in the stands along the Avenue of Tributes, Brutus is eyeing me and trying to pretend his stare isn't judgmental as I bounce my infant son, Rye, in my arms. The chariot parade for the 57th Annual Hunger Games is about to begin, and I'm a nervous nilly over the prospects of my two tributes this year – both of them Seamers. Again. And also unusually young ones – the boy is 12. The girl is only 14.

It's gonna be another loss, probably even two quick cannons at the Cornucopia. I know it. But unlike some Victors I know, like the stoned-out crowd from District 6, I can't afford to give up so easily. That's why having my second-born here with me is so vital. He is keeping me calm just as much as I am keeping him content.

"The Capitol's no place for a baby, especially during Games season," Brutus rumbles.

I shoot my old mentor a half-hearted glare. "Rye is colic," I sniff, wiggling my finger playfully in my beautiful baby's face; he shrieks happily and tries to catch it in his fat little fist. He might be happy now, but I have a feeling he'll be wailing loud enough to wake the dead tonight in the penthouse suite, even while I try to prepare strategies for training and the interviews. Woody and Almond, my two tributes, have been good sports about it; Almond even helped me change Rye's diaper on the train, and laughed at how our escort Dolly turned her nose up at the smell.

"How old is he, anyway?"

"Three months," I gush. Danny and I had agreed to wait a couple of years before having another baby. Jonadab was a handful enough by himself, and he'll be turning 3 years old in a couple of weeks. "I just hope I get back to my other boys soon; Jonadab's birthday is next month, so these Games better not last weeks this year…."

"Don't worry, little darling – if Mitt's absolute clusterfuck from two years ago was anything to go by, the Games will be short bonanzas from now until the next Quarter Quell!" I wince at Brutus's reference. Two summers ago, District 6 landed their third Victor, but it was only by default since most of the field froze to death after being dumped in an arena in the middle of the Arctic. Mitt Compton managed to keep his blood pressure active just long enough to outlast the others. The Cornucopia bloodbath saw one of its lowest kill counts in decades; later, an avalanche buried much of the Career pack. The popularity of those Games sank like a stone, for by that time, the audience had been subjected to two weeks of cringe-worthy blandness and a ho-hum Victor. Illythia Bitter, the Head Gamemaker, was promptly fired. An absolute disaster.

In my arms, Rye begins to whimper, and I try bouncing him, to little avail. Brutus snorts. My glare is fiercer this time.

"If you say another word…."

"I'm not…."

"Only a bad person could ever have anything against babies!"

"Damn right," Cora Shutter grumbles, joining us in our row with some cracker-jacks and a tall glass of lemonade. "So, shut your trap, Barsetti. Think your tributes have a shot this year? Oh, wait – no, they don't, because you Careers have only racked up one win so far this decade!"

The bones in Brutus's hands crack as he clenches his fists, and his facial muscles look even tighter. "Cora, you can predict pretty well who's going to be the Victor just by checking out the tribute parade. There are always details to spot – little things most people don't notice." (Cora is frowning hard, and I don't fault her; she has more than two decades of experience over Brutus. To so openly insult her, the ex-Career must have a death wish).

But Brutus continues to point out the tributes as they pass in their chariots anyway, to cheers. He pulls stats from the close-up of their faces on the Jumbotron to back himself up. "The boy from 3 won't last a day; you can see how he's twitching – he's scared out of his mind! And not that boy from 7 – he's way too skinny." (He doesn't mention how District 7 has produced two Victors – Blight Gavin and Connor Murphy - out of the past five years). "Or your girl, Cora, she's…." Cora's girl, who can't be any older than fifteen, flashes on the Jumbotron. Brutus's voice trails off like he's in some kind of trance. "She's…."

I study his face intently, ignoring for the moment how Rye is squirming in my arms. "Brutus….?" My lips upturn into a bemused and curious smile.

"She's beautiful…." Brutus breathes, his voice sounding like it's no longer attached to his body.

"Are you OK?" I ask, finding that I am one tick away from bursting into laughter. Following my gaze, then Brutus's one filled with adoration and lust, Cora sizes up the situation in seconds and is not quite as amused. Suddenly, I find myself having to calm a squalling baby and fend off my rabid, fellow Quarter Quell Victor all at once.

"Cecelia's 15, you pervert! You stay away from her, you hear me?!"

"You bitch, Cora! Just because you've never had it good and rough - !"

Rye lets out a bloodcurdling wail, and I wrestle Cora back into her seat with one hand, the older woman fuming.

"Stop it, both of you!" I cry. "You're making a scene!" I glance up and down our row frantically, locking eyes with a Peacekeeper at the far end who actually seems uncertain as to whether or not he should approach. He finally does, presenting me with a slip of paper. I note with relief how it comes with no envelope, so this can't be a sponsor proposition for a one-night stand.

"Telegram for you, Ms. Donner."

I accept it wordlessly, cooing to Rye as I bounce him and my little baby makes a grab for the paper. A quick scan of the first few lines, and my face goes ashen.

"Now what's wrong?" Brutus grouses, from where he has been watching me.

Tears are pricking at my eyes. "I…. this note is from my brother-in-law…. His father just passed away. He's now the new Mayor of Twelve. They're…. they're trying to throw together an inauguration, as soon as the Games are over." Slipping the telegram into my pocket, I cuddle Rye close and try to pay attention to President Snow's speech, but it's futile.

Poor Merle…. and Kaydilyn…. I hope they're ready for what is to come.

And even though I have only risked a few clandestine conversations with Chaff, I know my sister's father-in-law's death just made my task of eventually getting Twelve to rebel a whole helluva lot harder….

These better be a short Games.


I barely make it back to Twelve in time for Jonadab's birthday; tragically, I miss being home for Danny's and my 5th wedding anniversary entirely. I give my husband quite the round of lovemaking to make up for it. Cora's girl, Cecelia Rheys, had to give us quite a show, scratching and clawing her way to the Crown over three, grueling weeks. What is it about District 8 Victors that they are so slow in eliminating the competition?

The minute I set foot back on District 12 soil, Cray and his men set about erecting a stage for the Inauguration of a new Mayor, to be conducted as soon as humanly possible. Merle, my brother-in-law, has already been on the job for close to a month, and handled it as well as anybody could.

On a ridiculously hot day in late summer, Merle stands before Lucius Rosen, the District Clerk, for the swearing-in.

"Are you prepared to take the oath, Mr. Undersee?"

"I am." Merle looks as ready as he'll ever be to meet his destiny.

"Raise your right hand and repeat after me…."

Standing on the platform, I nestle Rye against me where he's fallen asleep on my shoulder. At my left, Danny is holding little Jonadab's hand and whispering to him to be nice and quiet while we watch Uncle Merle give his speech. On my right, Kaydilyn leans into me and whispers:

"You know, this isn't the only earth-shattering news we've gotten."

"Why? What do you mean?" I turn my head to her absently. Kaydilyn is sporting the most luminous grin I have ever seen from her.

"Kaydie….?"

"Are you ready to be an Auntie? I'm pregnant; she's due in February."

"…. So help you Panem?"

"So help me Panem!" Merle finishes strong.

The clapping and cheering from the citizens of Twelve drown out my happy shriek as Kaydilyn and I embrace. To the outside observer, everyone thinks it is just because we have a new Mayor and First Lady. They'll all learn soon enough that there will be a First Daughter as well.


The doorbell rings on a bitingly cold winter's evening just before the Winter Festival. I set down some correspondence that Woof Barton sent me about arrangements for the Victory Tour, when he and Cora will bring their new Victor through Twelve just after the first of the year. Work can wait. Tonight is about celebrating with family and friends.

I rush into the foyer to answer the door, Danny right behind me.

"Hey!" we greet excitedly, hugging Kaydilyn and Merle and helping them shuck off their coats. The blood rushes to my head suddenly and I place a hand along the small of my back to steady myself, while with the other, I rub my 4-month swollen belly. Danny and I had not intended to get pregnant so soon after Rye; it must have happened in that ridiculously fun fuck fiesta we had in the shower right after I came home from last summer's Games.

Merle leads the way into our fancy kitchen, pausing to ruffle Jonadab's hair as he makes silly faces at Rye in his high chair. He frowns in confusion. "Place is set for eight," he observes.

"Oh, the Everdeens are coming," I state, hanging Kaydie's mink coat on the rack.

Merle cocks an intrigued but neutral eyebrow. I can't read the expression on my twin sister's face while she waddles over to an empty place at the table.

"Will Glen be with her?" The question is aired measuredly and diplomatically.

"Yes…." I say slowly.

Kaydilyn nods. "How lovely." I don't detect any malice in her tone, and I smile softly, daring to hope. My sister and Belle had a falling out after the latter wed Glen Everdeen. But I have still kept in touch with my best friend. Belle had written me a few weeks ago asking if she could see me; she had conveyed she had a surprise for me. I had dashed off a reply inviting her and Glen to Winter Festival Eve dinner; Danny had been perfectly content with the idea, when I asked him.

A brisk knock sounds at the door, and I turn from the stove, wiping my hands on a tea towel. "That'll be them." I dash into the foyer and open the door to find my grinning best friend….

…. Her hands cupped around a belly as swolen as mine.

I gape for just a moment before letting out a happy squeal. Belle and I embrace, tears in our eyes as we jump up and down, dancing around in a circle. When we break apart, I draw back to examine her.

"Let me look at you…." I draw both hands to my mouth, the tears slipping down my cheeks. "Oh…. you're beautiful! You're a vision, Belley! Is it a boy or a girl?"

Belle beams. "It's a girl. You?"

I pat my tummy. "Another boy for me." I had been a little disappointed – I had desperately hoped, for this last one, that Danny and I would be blessed with a daughter. Danny said he didn't mind either way – we would love him just as fiercely as we love Rye and Jonadab. "He's due in May."

"So is she!" Lacing our fingers together, we squeal again as we realize our babies will be born within weeks, possibly even within days, of each other.

"Oh! Oh, wouldn't it be so incredible if our little ones fell in love one day and got married?" Belle chitters to me excitedly.

"Now, honey, settle down! – Our children can decide in their own time once they get here. Who knows? They might not be able to stand each other! Besides, matchmaking is so passé, even in a place like this." Glen Everdeen dances around his wife to peck me on the cheek in greeting. "Congratulations, Maysie. Belle and I were thrilled to hear that you and Danny were expecting again so soon."

I smile gently. "I'm glad, Glen." Turning my head, I call over my shoulder. "Dannel, come quickly!"

"I'm coming…. I'm coming…." And my husband emerges, huffing and puffing, onto the front stoop. Upon seeing Belle, he sways to a stop and stares for a moment at her pregnant stomach. Belle smiles weakly.

"Surprise."

For a moment, there is silence. Then, with a roar of delight, Danny is rushing forward to embrace his ex-girlfriend and even shakes Glen's hand.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Not that I had ever doubted my husband, of course. Even so, the past is in the past…. and soon, in the not-too-distant future, three different little families will be complete.