. . . . . .
Day Two
. . . . . .
Peeta has decided they are going to have a picnic lunch in the forest.
"Why in the world would I want to do that?" Haymitch demands when Katniss shows up at his door to tell him. Eleven in the morning is far too early to be dealing with other people.
Katniss shrugs. "To enjoy the natural beauty of 12. Or at least that's how Peeta pitched it to Effie." She nods her head back toward Peeta's house. "He says we'll stop by here to get you. I don't think he trusts you to show up if we just plan on meeting somewhere."
"Smart kid," he's forced to admit. "Do I need to bring anything? My finest picnicking basket, perhaps?"
She rolls her eyes. "Just your charming self. Effie just wants to spend time with her team."
"You and Peeta are half of the team," he points out. "Why can't that be enough?"
She shrugs. "Maybe we need you to keep an eye on Effie so we can sneak off into the woods for some sparking."
She smirks as she turns away and hops off his porch, and he can't help yelling after her, "You know, most kids your age wouldn't mean that as a joke. You two really should sneak off and make out some time."
She ignores him and he shakes his head.
Half an hour later, their little group of four is crossing into the forest. Katniss is in the lead—she knows these woods better than anyone—and Peeta follows close behind carrying a pack on his back and a basket. Effie comes next, clad in what appears to be high-fashion coveralls and very sturdy boots; Haymitch wonders if Peeta explained to her that this is going to be a five-minute walk down a level path, not a full-day trek through the mountains. And Haymitch brings up the rear, which he doesn't much mind, because those coveralls are doing very flattering things to Effie's backside.
"This is beautiful," Effie says, looking around at the trees, resplendent in their autumnal orange and red. "How fortunate you all are, to have grown up with such easy access to such beauty."
Up ahead, he sees Katniss glance back at Peeta. "Well," Peeta says, "we weren't actually allowed out here before the rebellion."
Effie is silent a moment. "Ah," she says, "right. I forget . . . how many rules you all had to live under." She doesn't attempt any more conversation.
But once they reach the meadow that Katniss is leading them to, the tension eases. It's a gorgeous day, comfortably warm for October, with puffy clouds racing across a sapphire sky. Effie exclaims wordlessly when she sees the meadow, with the bright-colored trees standing like tongues of flame against the vivid sky. And Haymitch, looking around, has to admit that she's got a point; he doesn't often think about it, but he comes from a beautiful district.
He helps Peeta spread out the blanket and set out the packed lunch he brought while Katniss shows Effie the nearby stream. (He'd love to know what the girl is saying to her former escort—"This is where I used to illegally poach rabbits because your government was starving my people"?—but he's too lazy to walk that far.) And when they return from their walk, they dig into the spread that Peeta has produced, and between Effie's raptures about the scenery and everyone's compliments to Peeta's excellent lunch, the conversation flows freely. Well, between the three others it does, anyway. Haymitch doesn't feel the need to contribute often.
When lunch is finished, Katniss declares that she wants to show Peeta the cave that she found around here the other day. If it were anyone but Katniss, Haymitch would think that was a weak excuse to get some time alone with the boy, but knowing Katniss, there probably genuinely is an interesting cave. But Haymitch doesn't much want to move, so when Effie says she'd like to just sit here in the sunshine a while, he volunteers to stay with her. Peeta flashes him a grateful smile, and off they walk, leaving the two adults sitting together in the meadow. Haymitch takes advantage of the all the space available on the blanket now to sprawl out on his back, eyes closed, soaking in the October sun like a lizard on a rock.
"It's a lovely day," he hears Effie say, in a tone that says she doesn't really expect or even want an answer.
He cracks open one eye to look up at her and sees that she's sitting next to him, eyes closed, face turned up toward the sun, and he's reminded of what he saw yesterday: the woman's beautiful. Back in their Hunger Games days, she always looked most at home in the Capitol and completely out of place in the rustic districts. But now, without her wig and her vivid makeup, with her simple clothing and the sun shining on her face, she looks like she belongs in this meadow. Not that she ever could, really; he can't even imagine how crazy she'd go if she had to spend any extended period of time in a place like this. Come to think of it, how is she not going to be bored silly for an entire week in 12? Once again he wonders why she would decide to leave her life of parties and (relative) opulence in the Capitol just before what promises to be the biggest, most opulent party in months.
But before he can ask her about it, she opens her eyes and speaks. "Haymitch," she says, then trails off, her gaze fixed out over the meadow in the direction that Katniss and Peeta disappeared.
"Yes?" he prompts after a few moments.
"Katniss and Peeta," she says. "Are they . . ." And then there's silence again.
"House-trained?" he guesses. He knows perfectly well what she's asking, he just thinks his guess is funnier.
She turns and gives him one of her patented oh-stop-it looks. "Together."
He shrugs—not easy to do, from his recumbent position. "Not exactly, no."
"Oh," she says. "I'd hoped . . . after all this time . . ." She hesitates. "I know their relationship was always a ruse, but they're so sweet together. I'd hoped that eventually they would realize it." She gives him a small smile. "The whole Capitol loved that romance; everyone was so disappointed to learn the truth. Well, at least, those of us who now know. Some people still believe it." Her expression turns wistful. "It was a very romantic story."
"Huh," says Haymitch. "So you guys cared about whether these two kids hooked up, but you weren't really bothered about sending them to their deaths."
Her lips tighten into a thin line. "It was more complicated than that and you know it," she says, her accent more becoming more pronounced and more clipped.
"End result was the same, though," he says lazily.
"People in the Capitol rioted before the Quarter Quell," she reminds him. "They were so upset about the baby."
"True," he concedes, closing his eyes. "But it was too little, too late."
Effie lets out an exasperated little huff and he feels movement next to him. When he opens his eyes, he sees her standing next to the blanket. "I think I will go for a walk," she informs him in clipped tones.
"Suit yourself," he says, shrugging again. "But don't go too far, princess. There could be wild animals in these woods."
She tightens her lips again, disapprovingly, but before anything else escapes her mouth, she stalks off to the edge of the trees, leaving Haymitch alone on his blanket. This probably counts as him breaking his promise to Katniss, he decides; this was probably him being a jerk to Effie again. But he has to admit, there is something very satisfying in being able to say to her all the sorts of things he wanted to say but couldn't during the six years that she was his escort.
He's not sure how long he lays there alone on the blanket—long enough to nearly doze off—before he hears voices that mean his companions are returning. Opening his eyes, he sees all three of them making their way toward him across the grass. Effie still looks a bit miffed, but Peeta and Katniss look happy and relaxed. She didn't rat him out for being a jerk, then; Peeta would look more annoyed if he knew the contents of their conversation.
They're going to pick some apples, according to Peeta; the remains of an orchard stand nearby and some of the trees still bear good fruit. Haymitch would rather stay on his comfortable blanket, and maybe Peeta can sense his hesitation, because he says with a smile, "If we get enough, I'll make a pie."
And that is more than reason enough; the kid's pie's are darn near miraculous. So he heaves himself up off the blanket and goes to help pick apples.
And it's not so bad. That is to say, he doesn't enjoy himself, but he enjoys seeing how much Peeta and Katniss are enjoying themselves. And Effie declares the whole experience to be absolutely charming, so rustic, so wholesome. But she's not entirely happy. He can tell because she doesn't make eye contact with him for the rest of the afternoon.
And he admits to himself that maybe he was a little harsh.
. . . . . .
Things come to a head that night at dinner. Haymitch, who hasn't had a drink in four days and is facing the prospect of no more drinks for a while yet, is tired and irritable and has a steadily growing headache; even Peeta's incredible pie doesn't help. And Effie's being especially obnoxious. She chatters endlessly, mostly to Peeta and Katniss, about the Capitol: how beautiful it is, how much they've cleaned it up, what excellent reconstruction work they've done to buildings that were damaged in the rebellion, how incredible the party was for the reopening of the city's main park.
"Oh, that reminds me," she says. "While I was at the opening, I met a goldsmith and we started talking jewelry, and I saw this beautiful pin he'd made and it reminded me of when we had our gold tokens. Do you remember?" And from her bag she pulls out four small lapel pins: gold discs decorated with a stylized flame. Haymitch is sitting all the way across the table from her, but he can tell that they're well-made. Probably cost a fortune. "And I thought, since I've lost my wig and I assume you might not have your tokens anymore either, we could get new ones. These."
Her eyes meet Haymitch's and he just stares at her blankly, and she seems to color a little under the lamplight. "Of course, you don't have to wear them. I just . . . thought it'd be nice to know that we all have them again."
"I think it's a great idea," says Peeta sincerely, and takes his pin from her.
Effie smiles warmly at him, and Katniss follows his lead. "That's really thoughtful of you, Effie," she says, sounding only slightly forced, and accepts the second pin from her. Together, they put their pins on their shirts, and Effie does the same. Then all three turn to look at expectantly at Haymitch.
The first set of tokens was ridiculous; a replacement set, even more so. But he knows what Peeta and Katniss will expect of him, so he forces a smile onto his face and reaches his hand out. "Thank you, Effie," he says dutifully—unconvincingly—and accepts the pin she passes to him. Then he sets it on the table.
A look of disappointment crosses over her face, but she quickly pushes it back and smiles at them all. "Now we're a team again." It looks like there's more she'd like to say, but then her face changes and she's back to describing the party where she met the goldsmith, who was there, what food was served, who was wearing what. And then, barely pausing for breath—he gets the distinct feeling that she's uncomfortable with the silences that keep falling and this is a way to fill them—she moves on to other reconstruction projects. "The Grand Avenue will reopen next month, of course, and the new renovations on the train station will be done the month after that, but unfortunately they won't be able to even begin work on the Colosseum until at least next year." She looks around at them. "No money for the reconstruction, you understand."
And Haymitch is completely done with this conversation. He's done with being at this dinner, he's done with being sober, and he's done with Effie's absolute ignorance of the world outside the Capitol, even now. "Oh, I'm sorry your city doesn't have as much money to make itself pretty anymore," he says, and he doesn't think he could possibly inject any more sarcasm into his voice. "I guess maybe the districts needed some of the country's money and resources so we didn't all starve and freeze this last year? Because our homes and our lives were destroyed by your corrupt government while you all continued to live in luxury? That's just the worst, isn't it?"
In all the time he's known her, he's never seen Effie look so surprised and so hurt; if he'd slapped her across the face, he doesn't think he could have gotten such a strong reaction. Her blue eyes fill with tears, and she blinks rapidly a few times, and now he's sighing inwardly because even he isn't so much of a jerk as to not realize that he's crossed the line.
She stands from her seat with a quiet dignity that is strangely moving. "If you'll excuse me," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "I would like to get some air." And she slips out onto the porch.
"Haymitch!" Peeta scolds as soon as the door shuts behind Effie, and Katniss looks nearly as annoyed as he does.
"I'm going, I'm going," Haymitch grumbles, heaving himself up out of his chair. He glances down at their frowning faces as he passes. "You know you've been rude when even Katniss is shocked at you."
"Go!" she insists, and he slips out the door.
Effie's standing at the edge of the porch with her back to him, staring out into the darkness. Nights get cold here in October, and she isn't dressed for the weather; he can see her folding her arms tightly and shivering, just a little.
He doesn't know where to start, but luckily she speaks first. "Hello, Haymitch," she says, not turning to look at him.
"How did you know it was me?" he asks, impressed.
"I knew Peeta would insist."
That makes him smile.
They stand in silence for a time while Haymitch looks futilely for words, but in the end, Effie speaks first. "Do you really hate having me here that much? Do you really hate . . . me, that much?"
"I don't hate you," he says automatically. He never did, even back before the rebellion.
"But you don't like me."
There doesn't seem to be a truthful and tactful way to respond, so he goes with truthful and blunt instead. "I'm not sure why you expected anything different. For a really long time—for most of the time that I've known you—all you've been to me is the woman who appeared once a year to drag me back into hell."
He can hear her sharp intake of breath—is she offended or surprised?
"And I know it's not your fault the Hunger Games happened, and I know that even if you'd fought back you couldn't have made a difference alone, but . . . that's what I associate you with. So having you show up here unexpectedly . . . it reminded me of a lot of things I'd rather not think about."
And now she turns to him, her face lit by the warm glow coming through the windows. "Haymitch, that . . . that was not my intention." She looks genuinely concerned and apologetic. "Would you rather I left?"
He considers it. He could say yes and have her out of his hair, have her vanish and take her Capitol accent and her mindless problems and her bad memories with her. But Peeta would be disappointed, and Katniss would be disappointed, and Plutarch would be disappointed the next time they speak. And Effie would be disappointed too, he thinks; it's been obvious for the past two days how much she wants to be here, and those pins she bought were probably quite expensive and required a lot of planning on her part. And as he looks at her face, at the pin on her lapel, he realizes he can't disappoint her; he never wanted to be on her team, but he was anyway, and maybe he will be forever. Maybe the bond formed between the four of them by their connection during the Hunger Games is one of those that can't be broken, the way soldiers bond on the battlefield.
So he bites back a sigh and answers more gently than he thought he could. "No, I don't want you to leave. You came all this way for the celebration . . ." He pauses. "Why did you come all this way? I'm sure the party in the Capitol is going to be much better than ours."
She takes a step backward. "I told you, I wanted to celebrate with friends."
"You don't have friends in the Capitol?"
"Yes, but—" Her face falls a little. "I don't have any friends there who . . . understand. They were spared the horrors of the war—which I'm very glad of, for their sakes—but none of them can sympathize or even understand . . . things."
A shadow crosses her face, and he remembers that he never found out for certain what they did to her in prison.
"And while I appreciate their exuberance and fresh minds most of the time, I thought that this time . . . for this particular anniversary . . . I wanted . . ."
"Your team," he finishes for her, and guilt pierces through him. He's used to the old guilt—over his family, over his girlfriend, over forty-seven teenagers who died so he could live—but this new, fresh guilt, like a splash of red paint thrown across a faded painting, is particularly unpleasant. What Effie suffered because of the rebellion can't be any worse than what the districts suffered—what Katniss and Peeta suffered—but that doesn't negate the fact that she has suffered, that she was punished for her association with a rebel group that she didn't even realize she was associating with.
He scrubs his hand down his face, thinks for a while, and then looks at her. "I don't know if I know how to be okay with you, but I can try. Just . . . don't say anything crazy about the Capitol, and I'll try not to say anything rude back, and maybe . . . me and you can be friends." He smirks. "We've known each other for what, seven, eight years now? It's probably time we were friends."
A slow smile spreads across her face. "I can give that a try," she says. "I'm sorry I do keep rambling on about the Capitol. I know you don't care. It's just . . . that's my life. That's what's normal for me. If I don't talk about it, I don't know what to talk about. I don't know what you three want me to talk about."
"Talk about the weather," he suggests facetiously.
But she seems to take it seriously. "I will. And if I say anything 'crazy about the Capitol,' just . . . shake your head, or touch your nose or something."
"And if I say something rude, just smack me."
"Deal," she says, and puts her hand out for him to shake. He does.
"Now let's get back inside," he says. "It's cold, and anyway if I don't tell Peeta we made up, he might not make me dinner tomorrow."
She laughs, and together they go back inside.
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