Chapter 2: No Trembling Children
We watch the Reaping recaps in uniform silence, with the occasional exception of Effie letting out an anguished moan when a particularly grueling selection occurs.
We'll probably get the lecture from Haymitch anyway, because he's always annoyingly been of the belief that whatever we need to do, he needs to spell it out for us, but from the very first name called in District 1, I can see: we're not going to be in an arena filled with trembling children anymore.
Even more titillating than seeing a husband and wife sent into a fight to the death would be selecting a brother and sister to fight to the death. That is what we get when Cashmere and Gloss, twins who won consecutive years when I was young, are Reaped for the Luxury District. Both of them appear about 30.
In District 2, we at first get a boy who is not much older than us, even won two or three years ago, but he is replaced by a volunteer: Brutus, a man who must be at least forty and apparently can't wait to get back into the arena. Another 30-something, a fierce woman named Enobaria, is chosen as his district partner.
There are only a single man and woman standing on the Reaping stage in District 3, both of whom look older than my mother and Hazelle. Beetee Latier and Wiress Okamoto don't even appear that frightened when they are sent in. They're smiling eerily calmly and it makes me uneasy. Something at the back of my mind tells me they'll be ones to watch. Haymitch must not share my assessment, for how despondently he throws back another slug of whiskey.
There is an uproar in District 4 when Finnick Odair, the young man who won ten years ago at the tender age of 14, and quite possibly one of the handsomest men I've ever seen after my husband – and Peeta, my traitorous, unfaithful brain whispers – is called and saunters up to take his place. The commotion only gets worse when a beautiful young woman with flowing auburn hair is selected for the girls and she immediately devolves into a crying fit. She is quickly spared by another volunteer, the second one of the day: an eighty-year-old woman named Mags.
The Reapings go by quickly and painfully after that. Most of the Victors chosen are so old or wasted by substance abuse that I can't place them from all the lessons we were lectured on during Hunger Games History class in school. The man from Five is a drunk like Haymitch. Both of the tributes culled for Six – out of three total – looked as high as kites. A man who appears even older than Mags is initially put forward in Seven, but then is replaced by a truly brave gentleman with a copper beard; he looks to be about Haymitch's age. District 8 provides us with an old man anyway, and with no one younger and stronger to volunteer for him - Woof - but not before Johanna Mason is chosen as the only living female Victor from Seven, and she flips the camera the bird.
A young mother in Eight is chosen alongside old Woof, and her three little ones cling to her, crying hysterically. No doubt that would have been Prim, Posy and the boys had they been allowed to visit us. "Oh, no, not Cecelia!" Effie sniffles.
Districts 9 and 10 are mostly old throwbacks, like the Careers, though their men appear strong and hale. That could be a problem. The woman from 9 is grandmotherly, if not as old as Mags than not far behind; the woman from 10 is slumped in a wheelchair.
Like with District 3, District 11 only has a single man and woman to choose from. The man has only one hand and I know him to be one of Haymitch's personal friends. "Well, Chaff could never stay out of a fight anyway," Effie armchair quarterbacks, as though Chaff had any say in the matter to volunteer. I like the look of the aging lady in his district partner – though perhaps in her sixties, Seeder appears strong.
Haymitch clicks off the TV morosely. He turns to Gale and me, as if expecting us to voice the lesson he figures we should have taken from this. When we keep silent, he delivers the lesson anyway:
"That Reaping gave us a lot of age and life experience, even if it skews mostly younger. All the worse for you two, but bear in mind: these people are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear to be in. Last year was child's play. So long as you can forget everything you think you know about the Games, you can stay alive."
Gale laces his hands through mine. "Pretty sound advice to me."
"I'm not finished!" Haymitch clips. "You two might be a hell of a wunderkind team, but that won't help you here. You're gonna need some allies."
"No," I shake my head immediately. "I don't trust any of them."
"Trust doesn't matter, Sweetheart. Staying alive does. Do it your own way if you want to, but I know these people. And they all know each other, some of them for decades. You and hubby go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down – both of you! You're the newbies, so if you think you can keep house in a cave again and have a nice little honeymoon while running for your lives, you're cracked!"
I frown petulantly. I would never say so, and I don't have to like it – I hate it. Passionately – but Haymitch is right. That doesn't mean I'm going to just passively do what he says though. Rising to my feet, I grab Gale's hand and pull him behind me.
"Come on."
We retire to our room, spending most of the night making hot, raw, anguished love.
We arrive in the Capitol the following day. To an absolute madhouse of a scene at the train terminal.
Gale and I haven't been Victors long enough to get in touch with the fanbase that we now apparently have, but seeing Capitolites wailing and weeping for us as we pass through a path cleared by frazzled Peacekeepers leaves us bemused.
I wonder if these stupid, vapid people have some idea of just what it is their government is doing. Gale wouldn't agree: he has very bigoted views towards Capitolites, ones that run almost as deeply as the views he holds against Townie Merchants but that, by virtue of his mother-in-law's roots, not to mention the roots of his wife – I'm half Merchant myself -, he has been wise enough not to voice as of late.
Gale and I are hustled down to Remake and separated in order to get prepped. Cinna is a welcome sight, and I throw myself into his arms with a cry of relief. Within hours, I am clad in a red dress and am being hustled down to the stablehouses just outside the City Center.
Gale and his prep team aren't here yet, so I wait by the horses that are to pull our chariot at the very back of the line.
"How'd we get here, huh?"
"Katniss!" I turn at the voice calling my name.
"Hello, Finnick," I greet dully.
"You want a sugar cube? They're supposed to be for the horses, but they have years to eat, whereas you and I…." His eyes do a flicking appraisal of my dress. "…. Well, if we find something sweet, we'd better grab it."
I want to smack that smoldering smirk off his face and remind him that I am married, thank you very much, but instead I just turn away with disinterest. A hard thing to do – Finnick is handsome.
"No, thanks. I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though." Finnick is dressed in a netted thong covering his crotch and nothing else. I fantasize about catching Gale unawares in the ensemble – he would swallow his tongue, then upchuck it back to ram it down my throat as he ravished me in bed.
"And you look absolutely terrifying in that get-up. What happened to all the pretty little girl dresses?"
"I outgrew them," I state coolly.
"You certainly did!" Finnick's smile is more of a sneer. "Now, you…. you could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol – jewels, money, anything you wanted…"
"Well, I've let my sister and sister-in-law corner the market on jewels in our family, and I already have more money than I need…" I glance at him, still acting disinterested, even bored. "How'd you piss all your away anyway, Finnick?"
"Oh, I haven't dealt in anything as common as money in years," Finnick dismisses almost with disdain.
I turn to face him fully. "Well, then how do they pay for the pleasure of your company?"
The man steps right into my personal space and I feel heat creeping up on my neck. "With secrets," Finnick hisses. He can see he's gotten me flustered and the bastard smirks. "What about you, Girl on Fire? Any secrets worth my time?"
"I'm an open book," I state flatly. "People seem to know my secrets before I know them myself."
"Unfortunately, I think that's true." Something catches his eye over my shoulder. "Speaking of someone else knowing all your secrets, your husband's coming. So sorry about this Quell thing. I know how devastating that must be for you." He winks. "Have a good day. Ta!" He all but skips away, in the second before Gale appears at my side.
"What did he want?"
"To know all my secrets," I quip.
"He was getting fresh with you?" Gale reads into some kind of innuendo and immediately starts bristling like an angry bear. "Want me to pound him? That's the second man who's tried to…."
"The second?" I pick up on, frowning in amusement. "Who else has got you so jealous?"
I have a suspicion….. but Gale simply looks away and grunts. "Nothing."
Cinna arrives. He presses a clicker into my hands and tells me to only press it when I'm ready. "Act like this whole thing is beneath you."
"Easy," Gale and I chorus, then we glance at each other and share a small smile. At least we'll go into the parade with one mind.
Gale helps me into the chariot, and we finally emerge from the voms into the Avenue of Tributes to the cheers and wails of the assembled. Like last summer, I know intuitively when the right moment is. As we are turning into the City Circle, I click the lighter.
From his perch at the podium, I can tell Snow is looking right at me, at Gale, and we stare back defiantly. My husband actually seems a little disappointed when the President's address is brief. I think my lover would have been content to stare the old fuck all night, if he could.
Haymitch meets us by the elevators and introduces us to Chaff and Seeder, the pair from Eleven. Chaff swoops in and kisses me right on the mouth in greeting, prompting Gale to actually take a vicious swing at him, which the older man ducks with ease.
Haymitch bursts out laughing, and I'm about tempted to go in for a punch too. We head for the elevators, Gale stewing. I am more or less appalled. "These tributes are crazy!"
"Nah, not all of them; he's a good guy!" Haymitch steers me into an elevator.
Before the doors can close all the way, we're joined by another Victor: a young woman who errantly tosses a leafy headdress aside.
"My stylist is such an idiot!... What I wouldn't give to put an axe in her face!" She tosses back over her shoulder, seemingly to no one in particular, "So how does it feel knowing the whole country wants to sleep with you?"
"Well…" I cough, thinking of Finnick flirting and Chaff going in for a kiss. "I wouldn't exactly say every…"
"I wasn't talking to you."
"Oh." I blink. "…..OK, then….." Who the fuck is she talking about? Haymitch?
"Unzip?" Johanna hums to my husband.
"Y-yeah…" Gale stutters, undoing the zipper at the back of her dress. Seething, I shoot him a withering glare, but the man just shrugs. Johanna, meanwhile, proceeds to divest herself of her dress right in front of us, letting it pool with a rustle at her feet to reveal all the naked beauty she was born in. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale's orbs expand. I am downright quivering with mortification and rage as it dawns on me…. is this hussy trying to seduce my husband?!...
The elevator door dings, but not before I have time to conclude: under no circumstances am I making allies with this one. I'll kill her myself!
Johanna just smirks. "Thanks." And she saunters off onto her floor, her hips and bum swaying. "Let's do it again sometime!"
"Thank you," Haymitch wolf-whistles, grinning like a horny little boy. Gale's smile isn't that far off, and now I want to smack them both. "Johanna Mason, District…."
"We know," I snap, jamming my fist onto the button marking Floor 12.