"Prim, can I walk you home?"
Madge Undersee follows me through the school doors. Madge is ok. She sits with Katniss sometimes. They're friends of a sort. She never talks very much. I shrug, "Yeah, I guess so." The mayor's daughter matches my brisk pace.
My imagination takes over when I can't see the broadcasts. Even worse than actually watching. Katniss and Rue had been plotting various ways to attack the career's stash and I feel like I'd be letting my sister down somehow if I wasn't there to watch her carry through their plan.
Madge's legs are longer, and still she has to take long strides to keep up with my near-jog. We rush through the edges of the business district in silence, my thoughts still jumbled. So many emotions surge through me, conflicting with each other, scouring away my logical processes, that I can't make heads or tails of what I should feel.
Some part of me wants to repeat my feeble attempts at striking against the authorities who are set in place by the Capitol, even Mayor Undersee. That's illogical, though. He's not a bad man, even if some people of the district don't care for him, those in the Seam especially. Many kids even dislike Madge because they see her life as privileged and pampered. She's always isolated herself from everyone, not just Seam residents, a lot like Katniss does. So Katniss and Madge were almost friends. Madge has spent a few nights at our house in the past.
Gale dislikes her somewhat, as well. Of course, Gale very obviously dislikes anything that has a hint of Capitol influence and now I understand why. The reaping terrified me as a child, but it's different than I thought. The reaping is just part of the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are just part of the hunger games. The rest of it, the Capitol practices on everyone, everyday when it severely restricts what food and clothes and things we can have, while keeping everything they could possibly want for themselves.
When we enter the Seam, Madge says, "I heard about yesterday. About your class with Mr. Dallady?"
That's no surprise. It had been bigger talk around school than Katniss' rejuvenation. My sister is so distant and still close at the same time. Her private moments each day are broadcast to us kids, everyone in District 12, and the world. Yet, I can't touch her anymore and let her know how I love and appreciate her.
"I understand." Madge's words nearly drag me to a halt. She understands? What does she understand? My sister didn't hang out with Madge all that much. They weren't that close and Madge has actually lived her life in a house that hasn't let her want for anything, except the occasional electric light. Because he's the mayor, the Undersee family even has a telephone in their house to talk to other privileged people in Panem.
Madge slows down the pace but keeps walking and now I fall into step beside her. She understands what I said? Actually, it's not altogether unthinkable that someone who has lived a better life could see the situations of others and come to the same conclusions as the rest of us. She dresses in drab clothes like we do and tries to blend into the background. Maybe she's ashamed of her family's wealth.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean a lot of things should be different." Madge whispers almost silently. She's so hard to read, so concealed.
"Yes." We walk for another block. "But can they be different? The Capitol is so strong!" My own voice is a whisper but Madge shushes me anyway.
"Shh, Prim. Of course things can be different. They were different before Panem existed and different before the Dark Days, even."
That's true, I think to myself. There was no Treaty of Treason, no annual reaping for any Hunger Games. "I mean, can it change?"
Madge nods. "Everything always changes eventually, but we can only work with what we have."
And that's why it won't change, my frustrated heart replies. We don't have anything to work with. It's illegal to leave Panem, illegal to own any weapons. Even the Peacekeepers only use registered weapons. We really don't have enough food. There's hardly any electricity for most of the year. Madge and I round the corner of my home now, about to go inside. "We're stuck good, Madge."
She looks at me when I hold the door open for her, Madge's expressionless features melting for a second into a sweet smile that's ever more impossible to understand. "Chin up, Prim. We still have our hearts."
I retrieve some leftover mint tea. Madge turns on the television and we sit down to watch. Katniss is staring through a bush hedge. A corner-shot shows the Career tributes talking around the pile of supplies. Katniss watches them from the edge of the forest, hiding in a shallow culvert among dense hedges. The concealment is so good, even the cameras don't have a great angle. Rue's no where near my sister. Another corner-shot shows the girl crouched near a stack of kindling, watching the shadows bend, using the light's subtle shift as a timepiece.
Obviously, the two settled on a course of action and are awaiting the moment to set it in motion. Katniss has an eleven, I reassure myself. And a bow! There's no way she can kill all four Career tributes before they get her. Rue's going to draw the Careers away, providing Katniss a chance to steal some supplies and destroy the rest.
During the wait, I'm drawn back to what Madge said. We still have our hearts, yes, yet mine is so contorted that I can hardly tell what it's good for. Katniss was an anchor for me, even more so than Mom has been. And even though Mom is dear, there's only one person that never once let me down, and that's my big sister. Not once! Maybe she isn't the most pleasant person to others. I don't care because she was always sweet to me, even when scolding. Katniss was very clear in showing me what I mean to her. I always believed it. I didn't need the reaping to figure it out.
So, how can I move on? How is it even remotely possible? Everyone is trying to tell me that to love Katniss, I have to let her go. That is so backward; it makes me dizzy just to think about. You can't love someone enough to let them go! It doesn't work like that. When you love someone you hold on to them forever, come what may!
It hits me like a lightning bolt. "We still have our hearts." Madge wasn't talking about me and Katniss at all. She was talking about my 'outrage' in the classroom yesterday. Even if the Capitol tries to tell us what to think, it really can't control thoughts and it can't control what we feel, what we hold dear. If it tried, it would have to destroy us and then where would they get their coal from? Never mind entertainment!
What else did she say? "Everything always changes eventually, but we can only work with what we have." What do I have? I have my heart and Mom, and we have our patients at the apothecary shop. We have Gale who still cares about us. Mom has a few friends in the business district and I have a few in the Seam.
What can I do? I can make life better for them, since I still own my heart. It doesn't seem like much. Maybe Madge will explain further. I look over at her, but her head has sunken, hanging darkly over her neck like a vulture. Her jaw is clenched tight as she glares at the screen. Nothing has changed in the arena, though.
"Madge?" She doesn't move or even blink. "Madge, are you okay?" I put my hand on her shoulder and she starts with a jolt.
"Sorry," she mutters, wiping a single tear from her eye, trying to hide her face.
"What's the matter?"
It takes a while for her to answer. "Well, I feel like-" Madge closes her eyes and sighs. "I just want Katniss to win."
"Me too." I mean to ask her about her statements, except the screen interrupts, cutting to the Careers who argue about whether or not to bring the boy from District 3 with them. The one named Teodor. In one of the inset shots, Rue glides through forest branches, leaving behind a smoky fire that will draw the Careers away from the plain.
As the group of boys and one girl leave their provisions, the biggest one named Cato barks, "When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes." I squeak out a giggle at how easily they're fooled. Katniss coolly watches them leave.
The pile is unguarded, except for the landmines hidden around it. Katniss is smart enough to know that there are traps so she waits in the thicket. The Careers had left a guard with their supplies, but weren't leaving anyone behind at all now, a dead giveaway that something is amiss.
I'm right. She doesn't move for several minutes, watching the mound of supplies. Soon the Gamemakers realize that the Careers will find nothing at the first fire because Rue is long gone. They confine the group to a corner-shot and call up a view of the piled up crates and packs.
Nothing happens. Another corner shows a few glimpses of Rue leaping her way through the foliage. Her talent is bizarre if extremely useful. She hardly has to drop to the ground; perhaps once every few hundred yards.
Then a third corner-shot appears, this one displaying Verona from 5, dashing across the plain to the supply dump. Katniss sees her right away and just watches as the wily girl stops quite short of the pile, examining the ground. She goosesteps several long strides, tip toes here and there, and even jumps once, almost falling in a tense instant, barely catching her footing.
Once at the pile, Verona picks through the food stores and medicines, snatching tiny quantities of many items, not enough to be noticed. She even climbs up to swipe some apples from a bag tied to a crate handle at the mound's peak. Arms laden, Verona makes her way down and retraces her steps, carting off as much of the provisions as she can carry.
Almost as soon as Verona reaches the edge of the woods, Rue, deeper still in the forest sets fire to a second pile of wood that was already prepared. She doesn't hesitate one bit, jumping right back into the branches and flowing further on.
My nose wrinkles and I drink some of the mint tea. One fire was a good idea, but a second fire so quickly seems to me like it would tip off the Careers that they are pursuing decoys. Rue probably should have just set the fire deeper in the woods and left it alone.
Katniss is still mulling over Verona's awkward heist. Through the leaves, the shot shows her looking at the sky to see the new column of smoke. The Careers will see it too, finding no one at the first fire, and realizing they've been tricked. Katniss has to hurry, if she's going to do anything!
Suddenly, her face lights up with an idea and she moves out onto the plain. The Gamemakers fill the main image with Katniss' thin form. "Wait," I whisper, sure that she hasn't realized the traps are landmines. Katniss stops short and shoots an arrow at the pile. It zips right past. She missed? "What's she doing?" I whisper anxiously.
Katniss fires again, this arrow snaps through the same spot. The shot tightens revealing that she's shooting at the bag holding the apples near the top of the pile. It's torn open now, barely hanging on to the weight of the fruit. Madge sits up, words a flood of worry, "She's too close."
Too late! Katniss looses a third arrow; a perfect shot which cleanly slices away the rest of the bag. Browned apples tumble out and pour over the crates, almost in slow motion. Katniss only has time to turn halfway, preparing to run when the first mine detonates! The blast cooks others with its concussion and they join in the frenzy. A lamp fuel tank ruptures blazing a violent purple-orange so brightly that the camera's iris instantly cuts out all other light. The image of the arena is like night as the flames lick into the air buffeted harder and harder with each shock-wave explosion!
I can't see Katniss! I'm on my feet, palms clamped over my mouth, frantic squeaks of dismay drowned out by the ongoing rumble from the television set. A continuous inferno ravages the roaring fuel; black smoke billows, soaring into the air when daytime returns. Explosions continue to scorch the ground, demolishing everything. I plead with fate to protect Katniss from the chaos!
Hands still fastened to my face, I risk turning away from the onscreen carnage to Madge. Her eyes are big as dinner plates. Her mouth hangs agape. Nothing like this has ever happened in a Hunger Games season! Explosives have never been provided, to my limited knowledge. Until now, the only time they have occurred is when a tribute stepped off the platform too early.
At last, the landmines stop erupting and the Gamemakers locate Katniss in the field. The shock waves tossed her a good distance. Her arm is wrapped over her face to protect it from the bits of everything which were tossed into the sky. She rolls over, looking numbly at the wreckage. Blood flows from her left ear, dripping onto the hard-packed soil.
Katniss tries to stand up and I try to sit down. My knees are shaking. She stumbles to the ground after a few dizzy steps and lays there panting. "Go, Katniss. Run!" I scream into my hands. Madge wraps an arm around my shoulders to absorb my shivering.
In the frame, Katniss pulls up her hood around her face and knots the string. She finally starts an agonizingly slow crawl back to the bushes, where she had been hidden a heartstop earlier. In the corner screen, the Careers have heard the blasts thunder past them and immediately abandoned the fires. They're running hard, full speed, tracker jacker venom no longer a factor in their adrenalin-charged blood-thirst. The boys and girl bound over fallen trees and run straight through clumps of bushes, weapons flailing.
"You have to move!" I scream. She's only halfway to the forest when another latent landmine fires off. Katniss drops back to the ground, although she regains her motion faster this time, almost swimming over the dirt.
The Gamemakers switch the main camera shots to those following the Careers' furious return. Katniss isn't going to make it out in time!
When they break into the wide clearing, their attention is stolen from the borders of the woods and fixated on the total destruction of all their supplies. Katniss manages to slide under the bushes and back into the grime of the culvert, collapsing into the dead leaves.
The Careers are enraged. Incensed, Cato rips out a fistful of his own scalp and punches the ground, screaming unintelligibly. Teodor, the tribute who replanted the landmines, throws rocks at scarred ground now pockmarked with dark little craters. He tells the Careers that it's safe and they start rifling through the shattered equipment.
Cato does more kicking and screaming in the junk than searching. With insane vitriol, he turns to Teodor. "I thought you said the mines wouldn't damage the stuff!"
"I swear-I had no idea. They're stronger than the mines I worked on back ho-"
Cato cuts him off, "Stronger! You think so? Everything we have is gone, blasted back to the Capitol, you idiot! You want to see stronger? I'll show you stronger!"
The smaller boy turns to run, but he's simply no match for Cato who wraps a thick arm around Teodor's neck. Cato whips around, flinging the boy from the headlock. Another death notification flashes up onto the screen before Teodor's hits the ground.
The other two tributes put their hands up, as Cato's fury looks for another outlet. "Let's go!" he yells, turning back toward the forest.
"What? No, Cato!" Clove shouts back. "Whoever was here is toast now. Look around!" Clove waves her arms amidst shredded supplies.
"She's right, man." The other boy is named Marvel, from District 1. "That one's fertilizer, for sure."
"No! No! We're going to find every last tribute left and end this!"
Marvel backs away defensively. "That's crazy, Cato! We don't even know who is left or where they are or-"
"You shut up! We just lost everything! We have to counterattack, now!" Cato yanks his sword from his belt and thrusts it at the woods.
"I'm telling you. Whoever was here was vaporized." Clove moves toward Cato. "Don't you remember what those three mines did to that one tribute?"
Cato falls silent, finally listening to reason. Clove goes on, "The one girl that set off the mines few years back and they were cleaning it up for the rest of the day?" She forms a detonation with her fingers. "Extra chunky, Cato. Whoever it was is gone for good."
Shaking his head, Cato relents. "Fine! Dead! Then what do we do now? We don't have any food! We can't even purify the water!" He points his sword at the murky lake. Bits of debris speckle its glassy surface.
"We sit and wait, until we figure out how to feed ourselves from the arena. Marvel? Didn't you take the course on survival?"
Marvel spits, "Pshhyuh. I'm from District One, Clove. What do you think?"
"Alright, well, let's sit down and figure out how to do it, because that's all we're going to be eating for a while. Tonight we can find out who's gone and who's still here so we know what we're dealing with."
My eyes strain to see Katniss in the tiny box on the side of the screen. Too many leaves block the view. She's not moving. Probably in shock.
I've been leaning forward, elbows upon knees, still trembling. My feet dangle, a hair too short to reach the floor. Katniss survived the blast, but she's less than a hundred yards away from the Careers and she's hurt worse than ever!
I think of Peeta, still hanging on to life by a thread. The Capitol had isolated a clip of him sleeping in the mud, calling out Katniss' name through his nightmares. They've run it in almost every replay.
Maybe this time, Katniss is too injured to escape as well. The tracker jacker stings wore off but, if she loses too much blood, that won't wear off. If she has a concussion and falls asleep, she may not wake up. Katniss will linger, perhaps longer than Peeta and then she'll die.
Madge rubs her palm across my back in empathy. She's concerned about me, but peering over her face, something besides compassion flickers deep within her elusive eyes. She stares off into the distance. "Madge?"
"Hmm?" The look is gone in a torrent of fluttery blinks.
"Do I have to let Katniss go?" Tears skip down my cheeks. I rub my wrist to wipe away them away. My throat clenches in anguish.
"You can never let her go, Prim." Madge consoles, gently. "She's always going to be a part of you." She thinks for a minute. "You... have to respect Katniss' choices." Her upper lip quirks and a tear of her own slips down one cheek. "You have to embrace what she's done for you."
I sit back, knocking over the rest of my tea that has laid dormant on the armrest. "Oh, whoops," I grumble. My head swims as though the mines tore me apart along with the supply dump. Madge helps me soak up the tea with a rag and we both start fixing dinner, begging for distraction. Not much is happening on the screen, anyway. I can't sit still for the dull ache in my belly.
We put together another stew from bits of rabbit meat, greens, and wild onions. I notice one shot on the screen. Rue, huddled in a tree somewhere, gripping a match in her hand, like it's her own soul. She's gathered a third pile of wood and readied it for a fire, except she hasn't lit it yet, possibly frightened by the explosions that rang through the entire arena. Maybe she thinks Katniss is dead.
Nothing could have prepared me for this. Katniss may very well be dead for all intents and purposes. Burned, stung, dehydrated, knocked senseless, chased, cornered, starved, cut by innumerable thorns... And that's just the physical trauma!
I'm handling the stress like a little girl. I am a little girl, though and so is Rue. Maybe it's just natural that she's frozen in a tree with no idea what to do. I was almost paralyzed by fear just walking to the stage. Rue managed to push back those natural terrors so far. It's possible they're getting to her, sapping her nerves.
I want to hate the Capitol, but I'm just too tired of feeling, too tired of being attached to the girl on fire who gave me everything she had. Mourning her death for two weeks, waiting for it to come, dreading it, watching her misery in the meantime, and hating myself for it! Madge is right.
"I can love you," I whisper, looking at Katniss' limp body half-hidden in the bushes. "But I can't die with you." Maybe Katniss twitches or it's my imagination. My voice breaks with sorrow, "You wouldn't let me." My eyes freely loose the pain and tears pour fresh. "Thank you, Katniss."
I bury my face in my hands and weep upon the kitchen table. Madge lets me bawl. She keeps stirring the pot over the coal fire. My shaking nearly pulls me off the chair. I cry for what seems like an hour, even though it's just a few minutes. Finally the surge of my emotional release subsides and I wipe my nose, sniffing, feeling like a mess.
Mom comes through the front door and we hug. She's been crying too and she's glad to see me and Madge. She kisses my head in the embrace. There's nothing we can say to make this burden lighter. That's just part of love; to mourn. At least I can grieve now and know that this self-loathing isn't necessary.
I go to the cupboard and pull out the last ball of cheese we have. I'll have to make more tomorrow. Lady didn't get milked yet today, either. There's always plenty to do.
The circumstance hasn't changed at all. I still want Katniss to win, to come home. Yet, I believe I can finally be at peace with my sister's sacrifice and can live with it, whether she manages to survive or not. I know that's what she would want. That's why she was so hard with Mom. That's why she has Gale coming by regularly to give us food. He doesn't have to, but he does. Katniss has given me everything she ever had to give and I will accept it as she wanted me to.
For the first time since the reaping, I feel the clear, scream-for-attention pang of hunger. In my woes, my stomach had to defer to my heart and the self-effacing patterns of my thoughts. My ribs and hips are more prominent than ever before. The Everdeen house has had plenty of food available, or at least what can be called plenty by Seam-dwellers. At the mayor's house I ate plenty because the tastes were tantalizing, so beyond my experience that the meal was branded into my memory. I just haven't felt like eating as much since then.
We sit down to eat, bowls steaming with vegetables and little chunks of meat. It's savory and settles into my stomach easier than anything since the Undersee's. Mom sets a roll near each of us and strikes up conversation.
"Madge, how has school been going?"
"Fine." Madge dips some chewy bread into the broth.
"And Prim? How was your day?"
"Awful," I mumble around a potato scrap and bite of rabbit. "School is boring even without the Hunger Games."
Mom beams at Madge. "Prim does very well. She gets good marks. In fact," Mom tears apart her own roll. "They have asked me about advancing her a year ahead so the classes are more challenging."
I stare at Mom. This is news and also unwelcome. School may be boring but most of my friends are the same year as me. Getting advanced would put me into a whole new group of people.
She's oblivious though, and turns back to Madge. "By the way, Madge, we never got a chance to thank your parents for the meal last week." Madge shrugs. "Could you offer them our appreciation?"
"Sure."
"Madge, I've been wondering something." My breath tastes of onion. "Does your family really do that dinner every year?"
She purses her lips and nods.
"Then why is it such a secret? No one I know has heard of that before."
Madge bites her lip and leans back in her chair. She answers hesitantly, "It's because our tributes don't win very often. Once the Games are over, the families don't remember the dinner because they remember however their kid died." Madge's face flushes faintly with embarrassment.
It was slightly uncomfortable at the dinner, until the food was brought out and everyone forgot about themselves. Still, it must be awkward for Madge to eat with the victim's families year after year.
Well, for what it's worth, she's helped me this year around. She has nothing at all to be ashamed of.