Chapter 16: Maple
Snow falls softly on the ground, the build up slow but steady. We huddle together on the soggy log, trying to conserve what body heat we can. Our fire is dying, again. Fucking Gamemakers. When does it snow in July? I try not to hide my frustration. From Edison's laugh, I do a bad job at it.
"Prindella said I was the better actor," he pokes my side. "Now I see it."
I swat his arm and throw him a look. "Like you won any sponsors in your interview."
Even under the enormous jacket that's our uniform this year I can see him blushing. "Hey! My stuttering wasn't too bad was it?"
"It was horrible."
We share a laugh before realizing where we are. Take away the cameras, Gamemakers, and twenty-two kids out for blood and it would be home. We aren't far from it actually. Every sunset, we hear the faraway ring of the evening horn, signaling a day's work was over. I'm not sure where in Seven we are, the artificial snow throwing me off. If I had to guess, the northern part. Too cold for most people. Mostly made of day laborers with the outlying villages scattered here and there. Edison's neck of the woods. The thought of being in Seven comforts me. I could die without ever seeing my family again, but at least I'd die at home.
Edison breaks my reverie. "How many left?"
I count on my gloved fingertips. "One, Two, and Nine."
He holds out his beefy fingers, scrunching up his eyebrows. His thinking face. "Majesty, Blanche, Rufus, Natalia, Heaven-no-Hymn, and...Cain? Yeah, Cain. 'Rhymes with pain' he said in his interview. They're not your usual Nine. You should have seen Cain at the Cornucopia. Tore through the Twelve boy like that," he snaps his fingers. "No sacrificial lambs from Nine this year."
I keep quiet. Edison likes to keep tabs on the others. I hate when he does that, talk about them like they're our friends. Who cares? They'll all be dead in a few days.
He sports his goofy grin. "The final eight. Wonder what they're asking our folks about?"
I imagine my family huddled in the town square. Mom staying strong, looking the reporters straight in the eye as she rests assures I'm coming home. Dad is more emotional, choking on words as he rambles about how much they miss me and how loved I am and to just come back home. Mr. Pine Cone, that mangy mutt, probably attacking the brightly colored news reporters. It's only me they have, so they'll switch over to Edison's family quick. Apparently, it's huge. 'A house full of love' he reminisced one day. 'Eight siblings: Martha, Matthew, James, Joseph, Kevin, Kyle, Lacey, Lana. And me!"
I shrug and pull out the jerky I stole from Eight, gnawing on it as I speak. "Don't know. I'll see when I get home."
Edison scoffs and sticks out his tongue. "What makes you so sure you will?"
A few days ago we would laugh at that. Now, with the numbers so low, it's not funny. I shift in my seat and take a hunk out of the meat. He mouths a 'sorry' and stares at the fire. We didn't know each other back home. Seven's too big for that. But we've befriended each other. I didn't mean for it to happen. Redwood told us not to. We even agreed to go it alone. But when I stumbled upon him the second day in, I couldn't do it. Neither could he. We agreed to something temporary. 'Until it happens'.
But "it" never happened. We were used to the snow, used to the cold. The others weren't. Not even Four, trained and ready, could hold out. We each have killed too. His the boy from Three. Mine the girl from Eight and the boy from Five. 'He attacked me first'. 'Better me than the Careers.' I only tell him about Eight.
So it's possible. We can kill. We will kill again. Just not now. Let the others off each other, then we do it.
I stick my hands deep into its pocket. I could kill Edison. Yeah, I could do it. He's stronger but I'm faster, and more with it. He daydreams too much, and is too emotional. I caught him crying in his sleep twice, whispering Three's name. He's no Victor. I am. I'm tough as tree bark. He is just a stupid flower.
But he is just a stupid flower. He cries over his kill. I forgot their names. He has half the district waiting for him to come home. I only have my parents. We could have been friends. Maybe more. Edison is kind. Simple-minded. Attractive in that just-cut-down-my-first-tree sorta way. Would make a great husband and hilarious dad. Me, I'm nothing special. Boring Ceremony costume (my stylist really loves trees). Forgettable interview. Looks department, I'm no Essence, thank goodness. I was reaped, I was paraded, I have been made to kill. Simple as that.
Going off those, Edison should win. The likeable, dopey lumberjack. Redwood likes him over me. He'd make a great Victor.
Wait. What am I talking about? I don't know Edison. Maybe he's an awful person. Maybe this is all just an act for the cameras, a lie to let my guard down. He might not even have a village for a family. Edison has to die. He has to. Because no matter what he is and what I'm not, I want to go home. So what if I'm not attractive or chatty. Don't I deserve a shot at life too?
"What you thinking about?"
I jump when he speaks. "Home," I say too quickly. It's not a lie. He stares at me for a long time before going back to the fire. It's about done now.
He starts to get up then sits back down. "Redwood's yelling at us to leave it be I bet," says Edison.
What would Redwood know? It didn't snow in his arena. "Forget him. We'd freeze without it, even with these jackets. Besides, the others are doing it." Smoke rises from opposite, far ends of the forest, one bigger than the other.
"Well," he gets up and hauls his weapon over his shoulder, the only axe at the Cornucopia. I wanted it but knew better than to ask. "Better chop some wood. Gotta axe to grind."
A poorly made snowball is my response. He grins that goofy grin of his and walks away. I watch his big frame approach a nearby tree and start his work. The sound reverberates through the wintery silence. The first time he did it, I almost freaked. 'You're damn near asking to be killed!' Now, I don't bother. It soothes him. Me too. Let them find us. I'm ready.
I let the sound of home take me someplace far away as I pack up my jerky. I lean back on the log. The final eight. What if I win? What will I do with all that money? Guess I'd give Mr. Pine Cone a decent chew toy. Panem knows my bras could use a break. Can't imagine what kind of Victor I would be. If I have to wear a sheer dress in front of the whole country, I'm ripping President Snow's head off.
Victor Kramer. Has a nice ring to it. Who would have thought the bushy-haired broad from Four Clovers would make it this far. They'll call for a feast tomorrow or so. We're too spread out. It will heat things up.
Ha. I made a joke. Edison would be proud.
Edison.
"Edison?"
Rapid movements in the snow. Weapons clash.
BOOM!
I turn in time to dodge Hymn's sword. I'm on my feet. I swing my own. It hits. She screams, stumbling away to Cain's safety.
A fucking ambush! How could I not hear them!
I run over to Edison. His body lies in red. 'Blood red actually' he would say. The thought makes me cry.
I give him the proper mourning. I yell. I shout. I scream. I only move away when the hovercraft flings me off his body. It's all genuine. Edison was a good guy. He didn't deserve this. His big family is watching right now, grieving their big blond idiot.
But a part of me I will never admit to myself, my district, my husband, not even the others, is relieved. I didn't have to kill my district partner. And it's one less person till I go home.
