The rest of Sunday, Katniss just slept and on Monday she mostly slept again. There were a few nice moments with Peeta, twisting the knife Gale has in his stomach, I'm sure. Overall, rain and fatigue kept all the tributes from doing much of anything. It was almost like the Gamemakers were happy to keep the action at a minimum so long as they can show Peeta and Katniss huddled together, kissing now and then.
Romance in the Hunger Games, the new hip concept in the Capitol. They decided to let both tributes from District 12 have an opportunity to survive, and are fascinated, cooping them up in the rudimentary cave. Almost all the kids in school are wearing some sort of pin meant to represent Katniss' mockingjay emblem. One boy at school also thought it would be nice to honor Peeta by drawing a red line on his left pant leg, just above the knee. None of the other kids felt that was very thoughtful, Allen Mellark least of all.
It's hard to factor in all the variables to find out if my sister loves Peeta or not. How lonely is she? How much is the romance a factor in getting sponsors? She mentioned something about owing him for the bread when they were kids. I have never heard of that before. Maybe Mr. Mellark would know about it.
Tuesday, the tributes are still beaten down with rain. The hovel Verona created has flooded and forcing her to seek respite under some thick pine trees where the needle-sod ground was still reasonably dry.
I complete my chores, knowing nothing will happen with Cato and Thresh still wandering around in the wet field and my sister snuggling with Peeta in the cave.
When I look at the television again, the corner-screens are gone. The image focuses on Katniss and Peeta. A readout numbers how many tributes remain: four. Someone has been defeated. The Gamemakers are entranced by my sister and this boy, even as they sit motionless, near each other and watch the weather rage outside.
Mom and I sit down for dinner and watch more nothing play out on screen. Food disappears and nothing happens. Gale comes by, glances at the pair on the screen, his eyes glowering at Peeta. He gives us more food and supplies and then leaves, barely acknowledging Mom's thanks and goodbye. I don't understand how he can be so bitter toward Peeta! Katniss and Peeta have traded risk to save each other's lives. Gale should be happy that Peeta was selected in the reaping and not some kid who wouldn't have thought twice about trying to kill my sister.
An hour later, Katniss says, "Peeta? You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did that start?"
Peeta thinks back. "Oh, let's see." His arms are wrapped around her. She leans back on him as he rests against the cave wall. "I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair…" Peeta pauses. I remember that dress. Wear and tear shredded it beyond repair, long before I could grow out of it. He continues, "It was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up."
Katniss' expression crumples in confusion. "Your father? Why?"
"He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.'"
"What? You're making that up!" Katniss objects. I look at Mom. Her hands clamp over her mouth, her eyes spring with water.
"No, true story!" Peeta insists. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner when she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings… even the birds stop to listen.'"
"Mom?" Tears stream down my mother's face as she nods.
Katniss replies on screen. "That's true. They do. I mean, they did." She stares into space; the camera zooms in on the pairs' expressions, both of them lost in thought.
Peeta continues, his eyes glazed with memory. "So that day, in the music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us, and I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent."
Katniss grins and laughs. "Please!"
"No, it happened! And right when your song ended, I knew – just like your mother – I was a goner. Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you."
"Without success."
"Without success," Peeta grins then. "So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck."
The tributes listen to the rain. I turn to Mom again. "How come you never told us?"
She shakes her head and sniffs. "Because there's nothing to tell, dear. Your father was my life." She scoots over and pulls me into a hug. "And now you are my life." I lay my head against her shoulder. "The Mellarks have their own family and those things happened so many years ago."
"I miss Dad."
Mom sniffs. "I miss him too, sweetheart."
Katniss' voice interrupts the rain droplets pattering through the forest. "You have a… remarkable memory."
We turn back to the screen to see that she has turned to face Peeta. He reaches out and strokes her face. "I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention."
"I am now," she gazes into his eyes.
"Well, I don't have much competition here," Peeta's lips nearly grin.
Katniss chokes up as she replies. Her voice cracks, "You don't have much competition anywhere." She leans in to kiss him but they're both startled by something. Katniss grabs her bow, arrow drawn in an instant. It's just another gift though.
Peeta crawls out of the cave and grabs it. The pot is bigger than the ones they've received before. He gives it to Katniss. She opens it and steam billows into the cave. The pot contains some sort of expensive stew in the center, surrounded by luxurious cuisine including goat cheese for a little taste of home. I wish I could have donated the cheese for the meal. It makes me happy enough that they have something to eat despite the weather.
Peeta's heartbreaking words genuine affect Katniss. I wonder what Gale is thinking, watching my sister be wooed by another boy. I just want the two to win and come home. There's only two other tributes besides them! This maddening nightmare might be over tomorrow!
How did Mr. Mellark feel watching Dad court Mom? How close were Mr. Mellark and Mom anyway? Mom refuses to talk about it. Mr. Mellark probably won't talk about it either. I'm used to carrying both sides of the conversation at the bakery. He never seems to mind. Enjoys my company even.
The evening draws deep into night. Katniss and Peeta spend most of their sunset talking about Haymitch and his drinking habits, legendary in our tiny district. At last, when the replays begin the first image is Thresh stalking Cato. Thresh is several inches taller than Cato, but his tactics are also far superior as well. He has laced together wheat stalks all over his ghillie suit to make real-life camouflage. The sound of the pouring rain beats down in splats against Cato. On Thresh's suit the water is dispersed as in the field, even concealing the sound of his presence.
He must have followed Cato's wandering, inept hunt for quite a while. Each disjointed shot shows him stalking closer, moving almost mystically through the wheat nearer to Cato who remains oblivious and infuriated. The boy from 2 curses everything except his home district. The rain slaps down upon them. This replay is extended. This must be all that happened today besides Katniss and Peeta's romantic display. With the driving rain, it's understandable.
Thresh hardly moves, choosing his moments exactly during the crashes of lightning and thunder, and when the rain sweeps in the hardest. The Gamemakers accentuate the weather just for this fight. Maybe they can work with such precision or perhaps it's that they cannot, that a small effort for a storm has created so fierce a downpour. The world rages around the boys onscreen.
A powerful gust of wind hurls through the field, flattening the wheat for a few seconds. Thresh's crouched form remains eerily still silhouetted against the gusting landscape. Acrid blue flashes reveal his dark face and then wink out. The wind slows releasing the stalks. Cato recovers his balance, back still to Thresh.
The stalking drags on for a minute or maybe just a few seconds. Thresh creeps ever closer. He doesn't have the rock he used to kill Clove. Someone as strong and controlled as Thresh may not need a weapon, even against Cato.
Cato pauses to look around, not seeing Thresh right in front of him, crouched and unmoving. Once Cato turns back around, Thresh jumps from a crouched position precisely eight feet and tackles the boy from District 2, pouncing on him with all the skill Buttercup demonstrates on field mice.
I don't know who to cheer for because Katniss has to kill whichever tribute comes out on top. It doesn't matter though, since this is a replay and no amount of hope can help anyone in the arena. Even so, my heart pounds as I watch the two boys scramble.
Thresh pummels the back of Cato's skull with brutal force, shocked Cato crumples into the wheat. His elbow whips back and catches Thresh in the ribs, but Thresh holds fast, pinning Cato. His hand grabs Cato's hair, pulls his head up, and wraps his spindly, left arm around Cato's neck. Cato bites hard into forearm, tugging away flesh in his teeth! Blood pours down Thresh's arm. Thresh grimaces as he hangs on, trying to break Cato's neck.
My hands are twisting my own shirt. My stomach floods, disquieted. It's one thing to see injured people. It's entirely something else to watch them injure each other, kill each other. But this is the way of things in Panem. It's one of the aspects of life we have to accept.
Cato manages to get a knee under his belly and pushes up, throwing Thresh off. With practiced dexterity and fantastic rage, Cato grips low on his spear with both hands and swings furiously over his head, pivoting at his waist. His bladed tip arcs in the air, snapping past rain drops, lightning flashes along the gleaming steel!
Thresh sees the blade screaming toward him. There's no time to roll away. His good right arm snaps up above his belly, barely in time to catch the shaft of the spear. Cato swung with every bit of strength in his starving body. The shaft snaps in two against Thresh's forearm which also buckles under the force. Worse, the bladed spear-tip pivots against the broken bones and sinks into Thresh's stomach, a hair above his belt!
Cato falls back from the force of his swing, balance way off. Thresh tries to stand and crumples, his abdominal muscles shredded by the spear head. Agony plagues his face, blood pours through the wheat concealing his chest. Cato regains his footing, unsteady, staring confusedly at the broken shaft in his hand. Thresh already lies limp. Cato throws down the broken spear shaft and searches Thresh, finding the chain mail that had been in District 2's backpack at the feast. He dons it right away, its fit perfect for him, too small for Thresh.
Then the replay shows Katniss and Peeta's discussions in edited form. So, Thresh is dead. It's Cato and Verona. I can hardly contain my hope, though at the same time there's a dread of this undefeatable tribute.
Katniss and Peeta have had a worse time in the arena than any other tribute, except that they haven't died. And now they will have to face one opponent that's probably impossible to catch and another that might be impossible to kill. How can there be hope?