Katniss
The Monday that Effie, Portia, and the rest of my prep team arrive to 12 is an especially windy afternoon. I can tell by the way the hovercraft lingers above the district longer than usual that they were not expecting this sort of environmental weapon. No matter. The Capitol has enough technology to fend off a tornado. After they've landed, four Peacekeepers march up to the doors, guarding the crowd as they make their way out of the vehicle. Effie Trinket, my previous escort, is sporting a bright green wig this tour, along with a pearly white pants suit and black, knee-high leather riding boots, laced up to the top. Oh, what I would give to have such good quality shoes for when I'm out hunting. Of course, they'd have to cut off those high heels first.
I'm considering fabricating an arrow out of such heels when Effie and Portia—who looks completely unchanged since the Quarter Quell, with her hair as orange as ever and the only other trace of enhancement being a light trace of red lipstick—reach me. While I'm done packing and have been anxiously waiting for the arrival of our committee, Gale is still packing slowly, and helping Haymitch pack. I tell them both that it won't matter what we pack, since we can only wear what the stylists have left for us, but they've both decided to ignore me.
"Katniss!" Effie calls, waving at me. She stumbles over the gravel in her killer shoes and kisses me quickly on both cheeks, patting my head affectionately, and then wiggles her fingers over my shoulder. In the distance, I can see two figures—Gale and Haymitch, probably—making their way up to the large, luxury hovercraft. Then she turns back to me and grins.
"Portia!" I say excitedly to Peeta's stylist, who is only a few steps behind our escort. She is wearing a plain black jumpsuit with a black furry cape, the hood hanging around her neck. Her heels are shorter than Effie's, but still make her noticeably taller.
She opens her arms and embraces me, and I inhale the faint scent of vanilla that must've been from her perfume. "Katniss," she replies softly, her fingers combing through my loose strands of hair. Finally, Gale and Haymitch have caught up with us. It's stunning to see Effie transition from warm, welcoming escort meeting Gale for the first time, to cold, annoyed, manners gung-ho.
Her nose visibly wrinkles in disgust when Haymitch approaches her, letting out a good-natured burp along the way. "Yes, well," she remarks snidely, "we shall all be on our very best behavior on the tour, shan't we?"
I can see the corner of Gale's eyes crinkle up at the tone, as well as word choice, in her speech. I'm trying not to smile, myself, but Haymitch gives her a strong pat on the shoulder before stumbling aboard the hovercraft. One of the Peacekeepers goes to help him, while another comes up to Gale and me and takes our luggage. I turn to Portia and we link arms to walk back onto the craft.
As soon as we get on, Effie bombards us with questions. "Katniss, Cinna and Portia have collaborated for your dresses ahead of time in anticipation of your possible victory. Do you want Gale to match?"
"Well, I don't think it—" I try, but she cuts me off with another question.
"Gale, do you prefer white meat or red meat? Not that it matters, really; we have both, but is there a certain preference, or would you be alright with any menu?"
"I'm fine with—" Gale begins. Again, Effie interrupts, and I'm kind of taken aback by her blatant disregard of manners. It's so unlike her, I'm almost tempted to ask why, until I remember Haymitch's attitude—totally ignoring this—and decide to ask him later.
"You're right, I'll just send you the menu," Effie nods, rushed. She looks around in a hurry and jumps up from the couch, leaving without excusing herself.
"The hell…?" Gale mutters, aghast. I'm totally surprised, myself. Effie is usually more well mannered than this. Then I guiltily remember what happened to Cinna, and can't help but wonder if they've done something similar to Effie.
When I ask, Haymitch shoots me a look that warns me to not ask too much about the subject. Portia, instead, quietly informs us that they are no longer supplying wigs or clothes and Effie is just slightly stressed out. I turn to Haymitch for further explanation, but by the glance he shoots Portia's way I can tell she's said more than enough. Then I start to think, maybe she's communicating the same way I communicated with Beetee and Wiress in the training center.
No wigs, no clothes. District Eight is the fabric producer, so it's definitely struggling against the Capitol. I quickly look at Haymitch and give him a slight, almost imperceptible nod, to show him that I understood Portia's meaning. Then I turn to Gale and raise my eyebrows, enough for him to see that I need to tell him something.
Finally, after Effie's returned and ran us down our schedules, we're dismissed for a few hours. I grab Gale's elbow and lead him to a small platform outside the hovercraft, where we can just glimpse the top of our woods. We stand looking out at the view for a few seconds before he turns to me urgently.
"Does it have to do with the rebellion?" he bursts out. I look around, panicked, and clamp my hand over his mouth.
"Gale!" I hiss sharply, widening my eyes at him. Then, when I'm sure he won't say anything too revealing, I remove my hand and whisper in a low voice, "Yes, it does. I think it does, at least. It's Eight." His raised eyebrows tell me that he's surprised at the news, which he shouldn't be, really. Already this time last year, that district was having some problems. "I don't know the details yet, but I know that Thirteen…Well, I already told you. Thirteen is planning on sending a small undercover combat unit."
Gale looks out over the railing, musing over this, as if he's trying to figure something out. Finally he turns to me, his jaw set, his mouth in a straight flat line until he speaks out in a soft voice. "What are they planning to do in Eleven?" he asks me, looking me right in the eyes.
My gaze wavers and I stare at the mountains, unsure. "I don't know," I reply just as quietly. "Jackson didn't tell me anything. But something is happening."
"That makes no sense," Gale tells me, confused. He crosses his arms and looks at me as if I'm going to answer all his doubts—which, at the moment, I can't. "If they don't tell you the plan, how will you do it?"
I raise my gaze to meet his, and my eyebrows furrow in concern. "Wait, what makes you think I'll just go along with the plan?"
He shrugs and scratches his chin, which is starting to grow the slightest bit of stubble. I realize that's how a boy's chin is supposed to look around that age, except that all the boys I'd associated with—at least in the arenas—had been so tampered with at the Capitol, they were unable to develop facial hair. I shudder at the thought of what possibly toxic chemicals they might've had on their cheeks and chin. "Well, I think—"
"Gale," I interrupt, exasperated. He can't seriously be expecting me to just go along with whatever macabre plan they've developed, can he? It's not enough that they totally abandoned the rest of the districts; now they're expecting full cooperation on my part? "They left us to die! I'm not just going to do whatever they tell me to!"
"Well, you did what the Capitol told you to do, didn't you?" he shoots back, and I can tell by the remorseful look on his face immediately afterwards that he realizes what he's said. He tries to apologize, but it's too late. I'm pushing my way past him, back into the hovercraft and away from him. A few minutes later, I hear knocking on my door, and I kick the chair against it, hoping that it'll be enough to send whomever is knocking—probably Gale—away. But the knocking persists.
Annoyed, I walk up to the door and pull it open, fists balled up ready to scream at Gale. But it's not Gale. It's Effie. And she looks absolutely panicked.
"An engine is damaged," she says in a quiet, brittle, shaky voice that I know she only reserves for the most urgent of occasions where being heard in a loud, clear, confident voice is no longer important. "We're going down."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Trust me, I hate myself almost as much as you guys do (probably) for not updating sooner. Be totally honest if you didn't like this chapter, I know I didn't. I want to write in Gale's POV, though, so this is kind of a "Katniss get on with it already" chapter for me. Hopefully you guys won't hold it against me!
And as always…
Noname: Thank you! And I sure hope so, I doubt you guys have too much patience with my overdue updates unless y'all are really enjoying this story.
As always, R&R!
-TGBW