Chapter Four

Another speech to be made—always, Annie was beginning to notice, there was another speech to be made. With each new recreation of the same capital ideals, Annie felt less and less like a human and more like a machine. The taste of Virgilia's words in her mouth felt like drowning on too much cottony air.

While she spoke, Annie searched the crowd for any familiar faces. She looked for any of the ward sisters from the orphanage, or any of the other children she had grown up with, but most of all she looked for Myrna. The only face she did recognize, however, was the woman who had cried out for Finnick earlier. The woman was more composed now than she had been earlier, but as Annie continued with her speech she noticed how the woman never took her eyes away from Finnick, who in return sat with his arms folded to the side of Annie, watching in stony composure as she spoke.

Annie was surprised by how large the crowd was, and how behind the solemnity of their forced presence, the people of district 4 actually seemed pleased that they had a victor again, and Annie could even detect pride that she had defeated the others by swimming, a faculty that was unique to their homeland.

When Annie was done speaking, the mayor of their district said a quick address, thanking her for service to Panem and district 4 before announcing that there would be a gathering and feast that night in her honor. Sometime after the outcries of jubilation erupted, Annie finally spotted Myrna.

Her best friend was crying and smiling when she rushed toward Annie, and they embraced in a hurricane of limbs and skretches.

"Oh, Annie…!" Myrna said piteously. "I was so sure I'd never see you again."

Annie hugged her tighter. "I know."

The affirmation hurt; the reality of what she had expected in the arena—her own death—had evaporated like water on hot pavement. She couldn't tell if she was really living in the moment, or living in a strange dream. She was bone-tired from lack of sleep, but she could feel adrenaline coaxing through her bloom stream at seeing her friend again, just as it had in the arena was she was fighting to stay alive.

Behind Myrna, Annie could see a gaggle of other kids from the orphanage and two of her ward sisters. She embraced each of them in turn—kids who she'd grown up with, and some so young that she had played a small part in their own upbringing. The younger kids were rough and excited, hoping and squealing with the knowledge that they knew a real winner.

Adoption was all but unheard of in district 4, occasionally a baby would be taken to another home, but so many could barely feed their own families. How could they take in another child? The process was so rare that once you found yourself within the orphanage walls, you never expected to leave them again. It wasn't a cruel place, by any means. Annie didn't know how it was in other districts, but she was proud and satisfied with how she had been raised and the life she had.

The ward sisters hugged her last. Enid was young enough to be Annie's older sister; she was tall, as so many of district 4's women were, and her faded blond hair was tied up behind a gray kerchief. Ruth, the other ward sister, was old enough to be Annie's grandmother, and she stood squat and homely as any statue, but her grin was cheerful and open.

They told Annie that they had watched every day. Even the youngest children were allowed to stay up late to watch the end. No one mentioned the tributes from the other districts, and Ril.

Annie searched the crowd. They were a large district, but not so large that they were all packed into the square. There were clear communal pockets that had formed and knowing that Ril had come from a higher class than her own, she could easily search out the right areas to start her search.

It didn't take her long to realize that they too were searching her out as well.

Ril's family was well dressed. She could tell their affluence by the style of their clothes—not new, but well cared for. She noted his mother, his father, and now that she could see, she saw a brother and sister, both younger than he was. Both still eligible to be reaped.

Annie stood silent, unsure what to say, or if she should even speak at all. She bit her lip, feeling the toe of her capitol-shinned shoe dig at the dirt.

"I—" she stammered. Annie could see their expectant faces behind the curtain of her hair; she had to fight the urge to tuck it behind her ear. "—I…"

Suddenly she felt a weight by her side, and she knew she wasn't alone. Finnick reached out for her elbow and walked with her toward Ril's family. Where had he come from? Had he been looking for Ril's family too? Annie watched as he wordlessly embraced each of them, even the little girl whose eyes, Annie could now see, were rimmed bright red from weeping. Finnick said nothing, but looked at them each earnestly. Like Mags, he seemed able to communicate fully in complete silence.

Once again, she felt as though she were back in the arena. The glossy full moon so large and high in the sky that it took up nearly all of the horizon space. So big it felt like it would crash to the ground and swallow them whole. "I'm so," the sharp twinkling steal of the blade being raised, "very, very," the sound of bone crunching, and that sickening squelch of blood spray, "sorry about Ril."

It was her fault, if she hadn't made so much noise before the careers caught them, if she hadn't immediately run away afterward. If she could have done something other than stand, frozen and terrified, watching as the blade struck him again, and again. If she had only been able to raise her own weapon. Even to just distract the one with the sword, she knew it could have given Ril the opportunity to save himself.

Ril's mother reached out to her, as silent as Finnick had been, and ominous as any ghost. She reached her arms around Annie's shoulders and embraced her with the gentle kindness of any mother. Annie melted against the woman, letting her tears roll down her cheeks as Ril's mother stroked her aching back.