Chapter 3
I pace back and forth near the dilapidated wall of the old house on the lake, my feet sore from dancing in the Harvest Festival the previous night. I didn't want to dance, but the Capitol cameras poised in the corners of the event served as a reminder that I am a happily engaged young woman. I should want to dance with my fiance. That's what the Districts would expect from a girl in love, as would Snow. So I danced and made pointless small talk and smiled until my cheeks began to cramp. The pain in my feet wasn't insufferable, but was uncomfortable. However, I couldn't make myself sit down. My body tinged with anticipation for Gale to arrive. He would be able to find me here and would know where to go, but wouldn't know why we were meeting here instead of our normal spot.
Although Snow is now seemingly satisfied with my performance and how the Districts have been pacified, I doubt he is taking his eye off me anytime soon. If anything, he is doubling down on his time and efforts to keep me under surveillance. Waiting for me to make the mistake of backing off from my duties, for me to let the mask slip. He would want to know of the first instance of reluctance from me, even if it was a minor blunder. If he knew first, he could intercept me before the Districts got suspicious again and remind me. Whether it be a verbal warning or a warning involving an example of what happens when I don't play along, I wanted no warning from him. I wanted to never have to see or interact with that man again until the Games started once more. I think I could live with that; only having to see Snow during Hunger Games season. If that's what I wanted, though, I had to be extra careful in how I interacted with Peeta as well as how I spent my time away from Peeta. Meeting with Gale to catch him up on the past few days has gone and why I was engaged to Peeta would likely not be approved by Snow. Thus, leading to this meeting to be extra secret.
The pacing had been helpful in relieving some nerves, but now I suspect it's making them worse. I force myself to squat next to the fire I made, holding my hands out and letting the warmth consume my palms.
The lengthy hike to this new location will likely wind Gale, which will be beneficial to me. It will give me time to explain myself before he tries to leave, ignoring me forever afterwards. My mind begins to race, as I think of all the different things I want to say to him regarding the situation. He wasn't at the Victory Dinner or the Harvest Festival, so he's definitely mad. And likely very hurt or upset.
Thoughts flood through me and I am so lost in them that I almost don't notice Gale as he half-enters the house. He's leaning in through where it looks like the front door used to be, his eyes hard and distant. I meet his gaze and immediately stand, having to keep myself from taking a step towards him. A certain gentleness will be necessary here, as the distant look in Gale's face is looking more and more like betrayal as we stare at each other. Hints of anger are present as well, but hurt seems to be the emotion taking up his expression.
We must be standing and staring at one another for a while, because the warmth that remained in my palms from the fire is now gone. "President Snow personally threatened to have you killed," I blurt out, deciding to start at the heart of my defense.
"Anyone else?"
The seeming lack of care on Gale's face causes a stir in me, but I push it aside. This isn't about me, it's about preserving my friendship with Gale and explaining to him that everything between Peeta and I isn't real. I need to be careful with Gale right now. "Well he didn't exactly give me a copy of the list, but it likely includes both of our families." The snark behind the statement wasn't intentional, as I meant to play it off like a joke. I expect Gale to turn back and am already beginning to think of an apology when he steps inside, coming to the fire.
"Unless what?" he asks. He holds his hands out, warming them, as my feet remain planted. He has to know the answer to that, doesn't he? Is this a rhetorical question?
"Unless I convinced him that Peeta and I are in love," I answer, assuming Gale really did not guess that. I move towards the fire, but don't sit right next to him. Instead, I choose a small pile of concrete that serves as a somewhat-comfy chair. He keeps his eyes trained on the fire and he brings his arms in.
"'Convinced,'" he repeats, nodding slowly. "So, he's convinced."
It's not a question, moreso just Gale saying it to himself to grasp the concept. I don't answer, expecting Gale to continue, but he just keeps slowly nodding to himself for another few seconds. "Yes," I reply, filling the silence.
"Not surprising," Gale shrugs, finally looking at me. "It was pretty convincing."
There it is. The twitch in his voice, the bite of animosity that only I could recognize in his voice. It was always low, relatively smooth, and purposefully hard to decipher. However, after knowing Gale for so long and having our fair share of disagreements, I could tell when he was adopting a sour attitude about something. Understandable, I remind myself. He is upset and has a right to be, I need to be patient.
"Look, I'm sorry you had to see all of that," I say, swallowing some of my pride. Personally, I don't think I have all too much to really apologize for. Gale doesn't know the lengths I had to go to convince Snow and the Districts. Nor does he know how serious the stakes were, given the minor rebellions in some Districts. "And I'm sorry that you're hurt. This isn't very fun for me either."
"You seemed to be having a blast," Gale scoffs with a wry smile. The bitterness in his voice is growing, as is the anger stirring in me. Is he trying to provoke me?
"You seriously think that was me having a blast?" I ask, almost hissing at him. I keep myself seated, refraining from using any accusatory gestures towards him, but my patience is quickly wearing thin.
His sneering smile drops, a bit of a regretful look in his eyes. He can tell he went too far, insinuating that I enjoyed my time as a Capitol prop, and chooses his next words more carefully. "Well, to anyone that doesn't know you, it looked like you were having fun."
"That was the point," I insist, keeping my tone firm. Gale isn't being snarky anymore, but he still looks entirely unconvinced and hurt.
"I just feel like—" Gale started, but stopped abruptly. Before I could even begin to tell him to finish his thought, he looked down and shook his head.
"What?" I asked, at the same time that he told me to forget about it. "No, what?"
Gale cleared his throat, straightening up and looking at me. He hesitated again, and I raised my brows expectantly. "I just feel like you, kinda, seem like…"
"Like what," I asked in a low voice. I could tell where he was going with this. He was going to call me a fake. A phony, a fraud, a sell-out. Any kind of insult he could think of and mask it well enough with mourning for our friendship to make it easier for me to face.
"A stranger," he finally said, keeping his voice quiet. "You seemed like a stranger. Like a Capitol phony."
He probably thought he was doing me a favor right now. Any sense of disdain or cynicism from Gale regarding his feelings for me and our erased potential for a relationship was gone. Pity and grief replaced his expression as he dropped what he likely thought was a new revelation for me. As if I didn't already understand that I am now a phony. Playing into what the Capitol, what Snow, wanted me to do. All for the sake of keeping the Districts from rioting and allowing Snow to remain steadily in power.
"That was the point!" I exclaim. The stirring within me had now been brought to a boil of frustration. Now, I was the one who felt betrayed. For Gale to call me a phony, a stranger, while knowing all of the potential repercussions if I failed to perform was insulting. I guess he didn't know all of the potential repercussions, but I had told him a few. The few that mattered, anyway. "I had to sell-out, I had to be a Capitol phony! I was a stranger, it was a strange situation to be in! It was exhausting and stressful and cruel. So cruel, to be reminded every day of the Tour of the Games and how those kids died. How I'm alive all because I can lie on camera! That I'm alive because I happened to make good television, it was so hard and it's frustrating that you can't understand that. However, I'm thankful you can't understand it because I wouldn't wish it on anyone." I'm standing now, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My fists are clenched, my nails digging into my palms in order to keep myself somewhat grounded. "It was torture and in the midst of that torture I had to pretend to be happy and in love with Peeta and I did all of that to save our families, to save you!"
The rise in adrenaline and suppressed feelings left me queasy, as I felt saliva coating the sides of my mouth. I sat back down once my vision started to become spotty and focused on the fire, not looking at Gale.
"You didn't have to do all of that for me, you know," he says quietly. His voice is soft and he pauses, waiting for something. I glance over at him, and he continues. "I didn't know it was that bad, I could only imagine." He slowly scooches over to me, sitting next to the pile of concrete. His head is near my knees and he is looking up at me. Again, he doesn't speak until my eyes meet his. "Let's run away."
I almost burst out laughing at the irony of his words. I had considered proposing that very same idea to him if I failed to convince Snow and the Districts of Peeta and I being in love. It had never occurred to me that it might still be a possibility now. Although, probably not the best idea. I doubt Snow would let that go unpunished, the Girl on Fire running away from the public eye. It would raise questions and concerns, both of which would likely lead to that same uneasiness and anger in the Districts that Snow wanted me to extinguish. Before the uneasiness and anger grew into full-scale rebellion.
"I can't."
"We can," he answers immediately, moving to be in front of me. He's crouching down and puts his hands over mine, which are still balled up in fists with my nails lodged in my palms. "It's just our families on Snow's list, right?"
"Well," I start. "Yeah, but—"
"Then let's go," Gale smiles, squeezing my hands in his. "Right now."
I have to shut this down before Gale gets too invested in the idea, too set on fleeing District Twelve. How honest do I need to be about the circumstances surrounding my engagement and the temperament in some of the Districts? Can I omit some details and still convince him?
"I can't," I repeat, hoping the insistence in my voice is enough. I can tell it isn't, and like when Gale first got here, I go straight to the heart of my argument. "There's too much on the line right now."
This isn't enough for Gale either, and my attempt at dancing around the point fails. "What?"
"The reason Snow was so adamant about Peeta and I showing our love was because…" I say, but Gale's pressing eyes make me pull up short. "Some of the Districts also weren't…entirely too convinced."
"What do you mean?" Gale asks. I can feel his body stiffen in anticipation as his hands go rock solid around my fists.
"There were some people in the Districts who were causing trouble," I answered. "Because they thought the berries were an act of defiance."
"What were they doing?" Gale asked, rising to his feet after releasing my hands. I knew what he was thinking, as he talked of rebellion so often ever since we first met. There was no point in avoiding the word, nor the details of what I was told by Snow.
"Snow was worried of rebellion in some of the Districts," I said, with Gale's eyes lighting up at the word. "I needed to convince them too, not just Snow."
Gale let out a short laugh but quickly frowned, his mouth slightly agape in confusion. "So you helped him stop an uprising?"
There was condemnation in his tone, as if accusing me. The severity and weight behind it caught me off guard, and I stuttered on my words as I tried to reply. "Well, he threatened our families—"
"What about every other family in Twelve? Or in the other Districts?" Gale exclaimed. "What did you see? Did you see any during the Tour?"
The thought of what happened in Eleven clouded my mind, a guilty pit entering my stomach. Rue's family, the old man shot…
"A few people doing Twelve's salute," I answered, trying to remain impassive and nonchalant. "That's it." Gale gave a suspicious look towards me, crossing his arms, not convinced. I couldn't tell if I was avoiding giving the details for his sake or my own, but regardless, his distrustful look caused me to spill the rest of the details. From everything I saw in Eleven, to what happened in Eight, to everything I heard from either Snow or Haymitch regarding other Districts. "Nothing too big," I said once I finished explaining, giving a dismissive wave with my hand. "It wouldn't have gone anywhere, just gotten more people killed."
"Oh," Gale scoffed. "Because getting killed by Peacekeepers or in the Hunger Games or starving to death is much better than dying while fighting for something."
His snarkiness was back. Instead of being hurt and betrayed by being romantic with Peeta, Gale was now hurt and betrayed by my decision to extinguish the Districts rather than let them continue with their rebellious thoughts and actions. The insinuation from him, that I was choosing the Capitol over the Districts, was clear and felt like a slap in the fact. He knew he had gotten his point across, because he relinquished any other words he was about to say.
"You are unbelievable," I spat, standing myself. "I never asked for any of this. I was thrown in the Games and survived. I am still in the Games and still trying to survive. I am keeping you alive, I am keeping your family alive, I am keeping my family alive!"
"And keeping the Capitol alive," he retorted. "Keeping the Hunger Games alive." Clearly, I was wrong. His insinuation wasn't enough, as he just said it outloud. How he felt about me now. How he now saw me allied with the Capitol and not him.
Words of rage and pure fury bounced around my head as I thought of something to say to him. I wanted to flee, to leave the house and run away into the woods. I wanted to be alone but, more importantly, wanted to be as far away from Gale right now as I could. If he could not at least try to understand the position I was and still am in, he would never be able to understand. If he would never be able to understand, we would never be able to be on the same page.
Maybe this would be for the best, me and Gale not being able to be around each other anymore. Maybe he was being especially cruel and unempathetic, so it made our goodbyes to each other easier. I know that would certainly make it easier for himself, if he was so mad at me that he wouldn't want to be around me any longer.
The anger-filled words and thoughts continued to scatter my brain, as I tried to decide what to say in response. No matter his intentions, no matter the potential benefits to this seemingly being our send-off from one another, I'm too blinded by anger and hurt to put anything together to say. Instead, my feet move automatically towards Gale, my arm automatically raising as well. Without thinking, I bring my hand up and smack my palm against his cheek hard. Before I can register how much physical or emotional damage I did to Gale, my feet turn and I leave the house, leaving Gale behind.