Chapter 18: Do Something

Emilia screams and wails when the train is finally waved through, and she is taken to identify the bodies of her mother, father and two younger siblings. I don't feel as much sorrow about her father's demise, for her sake, because at least she won't be suffering from his abuse any longer. But her mother... Emilia's mother was devastated when she was Reaped. And now mother and daughter will never see each other again.

Mournfully, Haymitch, Peeta and I lead Emilia up the hill to Victors' Village, where her new mansion has already been outfitted. I am pleased that her house will be the one right next door to Peeta's and mine, and kiddy-cornered to my old mansion (still occupied by Mother and Prim) across the street. Our first night back, Peeta makes hot, raw, anguished love, trying to keep our moans as quiet as we can for our little charge whose window is right next to ours.

Whatever light still burned in Emilia has clearly been extinguished by the murder of her family. Luckily, Haymitch seems to know just what to say to console the little girl. I am surprised the first time I see the old drunk and little girl seated together in the former's kitchen, talking quietly. But it soon becomes habit to see the pair together, whether at Emilia's house or talking on Haymitch's front porch. One time, I overhear Haymitch telling Emilia how they are 'kindred spirits.' When I ask him what he means, the old man merely shrugs and mumbles:

"My mom. My younger brother. My girl. They were all killed two weeks after I became Victor. Emilia is lucky though in one way: she didn't have to watch her loved ones die."

In the middle of some nights, the screams of a young teenager tear through the village, disturbed by nightmares. Peeta almost always answers the call, racing out of our house and next door to hold Emilia until she falls back to sleep. On occassion, when the terrors are bad enough, Peeta will actually traverse out our bedroom window and through the tree conveniently planted between the two properties and enter Emilia's house through her bedroom window, to save time.

Things only get worse during the Victory Tour six months later. If Peeta and I thought the crowds during our own Tour two years ago were hostile, the atmosphere of these throngs are nearly untenable. Peacekeepers are forced into more open and brutal shows of force... and the people continue to fight back.

Emilia is a much more pliable student than Peeta and I ever were, never once straying from the pre-prepared script of Effie's notecards. Unfortunately, this makes the audiences all the angrier.

"Boo!"

"Fake news!"

"Capitol propoaganda!"

"Tell us what you really think!"

By the time we arrive in District 7, we aren't even halfway through the Tour and everyone's nerves are nearly shot. The District 7 Victor delegation, including Johanna Mason, greets us in the Justice Building; we can hear the yells and screams of angry citizens clear through the double oak doors.

Peeta blinks, startled, when he first lays eyes on Johanna, just before she wraps him in a hug. "Johanna? What happened to your face?"

Johanna has a clear black eye, and bruises along both cheeks. Her shoulder-length hair, once beautifully rusty in color, has been cropped to a military crew cut, leaving her with almost nothing. She just smirks sadly.

"Snow and his goons don't take kindly to theft."

My heart sinks. He figured it out. He knows that the shell casings were more than just misplaced by Lupus Pagano. "Jo... I'm so sorry..."

She merely shakes her head, as she bends down to hug little Emilia close. "It was all worth it," she pats the little girl's head. Glancing back, she takes in her fellow living Victors, all men - Jules Elmer in his wheelchair, pushed by Blight Gavin. Connor Murphy has an arm slung over Burl Kennedy, the Victor of the Quell last year. "Anyway, we'd better get a move on. The Mayor will be announcing you soon." As I move past her, Johanna suddenly steps close, pressing something into my palm.

"Give this to Gale," she hisses in my ear.

I nod, closing my fist around the piece of paper. "OK." Have Gale and Johanna been writing each other? I didn't know they were in contact. They only met when Johanna was leading Burl through his own Tour last year.

I take a deep breath as the Mayor announces Emilia's name. Here we go again...

The Tour mercifully ends, and with it, winter and spring seem to pass in the blink of an eye. Life in the Village goes on. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, then tries to sneak more from Mother's healing stocks. As for Emilia, she crosses the whole district going to and from school every day. As a Victor, she technically is no longer required to go. Peeta and I dropped out after we won, as did Haymitch before us. However, in fear of her mental health, I advised Emilia to continue with her education, to give her something to do besides her designated talent, which is, of course, writing poetry. This was made easier by the fact that Prim is still going to school and only in the year above Emilia; my little tribute and baby sister have actually become really good friends and study buddies. The arrangement works well until just before the end of the school year, when Emilia comes to me in tears and begs for me to let her de-enroll with the Registrar.

"Everyone stares at me!" she says. "They're all afraid of me, except for Prim - it's horrible!" Since I don't want to see her mentally deteriorate any further, I reluctantly acquiesce.

A week before the July 4th Reaping, Haymitch calls a meeting at his place to discuss Games strategy.

"We're going to have to hope for a pair of older kids this year," he tells us. "I would like to have at least one from the Seam, possibly both. Though one Merchant kid would not be bad - being of a more healthy diet, they might last long in the arena."

Emilia listens attentively. She only just turned 14 a couple of weeks ago, but to my eye, it appears as though she has aged 10 years in the place of only one. She carries herself grimly, wise beyond her years. She is too quickly becoming more woman than girl in face.

"Do you think a Seam kid would be willing to volunteer?" Emilia raises her hand. "Like you did."

I smile at her sadly. "I volunteered because I didn't have a choice, honey. I don't think anyone will volunteer for the Games, even if we ask them to."

"All we can do is hope that our crop this year is a good one," Peeta states. "Aside from that, the Reaping is largely out of our control."

"Once we get to the Capitol, we'll have to keep a low profile, change up our strategies with our tributes and with sponsors," Haymitch decides. "Everyone will be looking to us after Emilia's win, trying to anticipate our moves. The Careers will especially want to cut us off, gun for kills on our kids early." The old drunk sighs. "Well, I guess that's it then. We'll know more next week. Dismissed, everybody."

That last week blurs by. On the morning of Reaping Day, Peeta kisses me awake early, and we rouse from our bed. I clothe myself in my traditional blue Reaping Dress; Peeta puts on a nice dress shirt and slacks.

"I hope Emilia has something suitable to wear," Peeta calls to me from our bahtroom, where's he's fixing his tie.

"She'll be fine."

"Did you prepare her for the Peacekeeper squads showing up?"

"I did."

"That's my girl." Peeta pecks my lips sweetly, drawing away when he hears a knock at the door downstairs. He sighs. "That'll be them."

As soon as Peeta opens the door, a swat team of Peacekeepers surrounds us both and force us out onto our front porch. Next door, a similar group is swarming Emilia. Through their white plates, she and I lock eyes.

"Katniss..." my little Victor whimpers.

"It's gonna be OK, Emilia," I tell her.

A few doors down, Peacekeepers are bringing Haymitch down his front stoop, and we quickly join him. Thread lines us up in order of Victory; as it has been for the past two years, Peeta lets me go ahead of him in line, since I'm a lady. Plus, it makes for a nice pattern now, with Emilia: boy, girl.

Through the crowd of officers, I can see Mother and Primrose observing the display from their porch. Rory Hawthorne is also standing with them, talking with my sister in low tones.

Then, Gale's little brother leans and kisses my baby sister right on the mouth.

Prim freezes for a moment, but then she is closing her eyes and enthusiastically kissing Rory back. I feel tears prick at my eyes. My little Prim is growing up. Her first Reaping Kiss, and though a part of me still wants to put the fear of the State in Rory Hawthorne, I can't help but feel grateful to him. My sister will need all the luck she can get this year. Being protected by the legendary, traditional Reaping Kiss will only help.

Turning back to my husband, I tell him, "Kiss me."

Grinning knowingly, Peeta pulls me into a deep kiss, which I softly return, my eyelids fluttering shut. When we break apart, Emilia is scuffing at the ground behind us.

"I never did get a Reaping Kiss."

Smirking, Peeta kneels down and pecks her on the cheek. "There you go, sweetie. Not that you need one anymore; you're a Victor now."

Emilia smiles weakly.

Thread cocks and loads his gun. "Victors - forward! Quick... march!"

And so begins our high-strutting goosestep out of the Village, down the hill, through Town and the Seam. We enter the Justice Building through a side door and greet Effie and Mayor Undersee. As I smooth down some wrinkles in Emilia's dress, I hear our escort talking with the men in low tones.

"How is she? Poor thing looks worse than the Victory Tour..."

"Not been sleeping well lately..." Peeta is murmuring. "Don't worry, Eff, we'll protect her..."

The clock stikes high ten, and Mayor Undersee throws the large, oaken doors open. Though a tribute no longer, Emilia is starting to shake even from just attending the Reaping from this new perspective. I end up pulling her into my lap, holding her as the Glory to the Games video drones on.

Mayor Undersee lists all five of District 12's Victors, which now includes: "The Victor of the 76th Hunger Games: Emilia Witheart."

The youngest Victor in history: younger than Finnick Odair. The Victor with the lowest training score, lower than even Abram Mills of District 9.

Effie finally steps up to the microphone and trills, "Ladies first!"

Mercifully, she does not make a show of hemming and hawing over what slip of paper to pluck.

"Chrysanthemum Teal Lampie!"

A Seam girl emerges from the 18-year-olds pen.

Effie quickly selects her district partner.

"Lin Highborne!"

An 18-year-old boy appears from the Merchants' side of the square. They both take the stage, and Effie makes them shake hands. Then they are escorted into the Justice Building and Capitol custody.

The train ride is dead silent for almost all of the evening meal. Chryssie and Lin both scarve down their plates, heads bowed, eyes downcast. I sigh. I am so grateful to have a partner in Emilia, even if she will just be shadowing me most of the time, like Peeta did for Haymitch during the Quarter Quell.

Even if this first year is just to learn the tricks of the mentoring trade, Emilia actually offers some pretty good pointers. It still nearly makes me cry that she sounds wiser than her 14 years.

"Learn everything you can in the Training Center. Refrain from showing off what you're good at in front of the other tributes. Be on guard. The rest of the field will be looking to you guys first, to see if you make a mistake. They'll want to take you out first."

I slump back in my chair and halfheartedly return Peeta's squeeze of my hand. It's going to be a long Games...