Chapter 9:

I have cried in front of the cameras before. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sang good-bye to Rue, for example. But I have never cried like this in front of all of Panem: face a blotchy mess of tears, hysterical sobbing, unable to catch my breath, etc. It is a completely involuntary reaction to the news. Unfortunately, it is also horrifically embarrassing, and after the first 10-15 seconds where the initial dam burst, I realize that mortification is just as applicable as any other emotion I am experiencing. I manage to mouth 'Sorry' to Caesar, who hands me several tissues from his pocket, which I accept gratefully and use to dab my smeared eyemakeup.

Several seconds later, I feel like I am starting to approach my normal self, but now yet another emotion takes hold: dread at the outburst I had just displayed. I couldn't help it, but could I have inadvertently sabotaged things by being so vulnerable, so girly? Should I have been tougher? Or was this the right move, should I continue to play it up, try to draw out the crowd's sympathies? I am utterly confused. I guess that brings me almost full circle with how I'm feeling.

I finish wiping my eyes, take a few more deep breaths. Meanwhile, Caesar and Peeta are silent, looking at me sympathetically. Peeta puts his hand on my back and gently rubs it. I finally feel able to speak up without breaking down again. "I'm sorry," I apologize, though my voice comes out in a ragged whisper. "I, um, know that it will be a beautiful day, no matter what." One last tear rolls down my cheek. To myself I sound thoughtless, to even imply that I could enjoy my wedding day without Prim, especially if her life is taken from me merely a few days beforehand. But I am thinking about Prim the entire time.

"Yes, it will," Caesar agrees somberly before his voice becomes natural again. "Here, here!" The audience bursts into thunderous applause. He senses that it's time to move on. "And shall we see the final three beautiful dresses that she could be wearing that beautiful day, folks?" He puts his arm out and gives it a little wave, gesturing for Cinna to come on stage. "Let's all welcome Cinna, Katniss' stylist!"

Cinna steps up and makes his way to another chair that had appeared for his interview with Caesar. As he approaches us on stage, he looks pained and subtly mouths an 'I'm so sorry' to us. But before he turns to the chair, he gives Peeta and me a little nod, and I know that he has just agreed to be our groomsman. My heart soars for Cinna.

Cinna unveils the top choices to squeals from the audience and he and Caesar begin a dialogue about the final three dresses- the long sleeves with the pearls, the creamy lace dress, and the ivory satin number. But I tune out. I just can't wait for this to be over. After what seems like about a million years, it finally is. The dresses were the last component of the evening. The audience gives us a standing ovation as we leave the stage.

Peeta follows me as I walk off the stage and we immediately look for Haymitch and Effie, wanting to know how the star-crossed lovers from District 12 came off to the cameras, for the sake of their siblings in the Quell. I see Haymitch in a corner; apparently he was flown in a little later to make an appearance in the audience, leaving Prim and Paavo to watch old Hunger Games tapes together. He is drinking heavily, though I've learned from firsthand experience that alcohol consumption is no indicator of how well we did. He doesn't see us at first, but when he does gives us a nod of approval and downs the rest of his flask.

"Good job, sweetheart," his voice is raspy. He hastily adds, "You, too, Peeta."

The tension in my muscles releases, and I feel myself immediately start to relax a bit. I give Haymitch a hug, pulling him close so that I can ask him what I don't want others to know. "Really?" I ask quietly. "I didn't mess things up?"

"No, I would venture to say that you improved them," he whispers in response. "You're a tough girl; everyone knows that from your time in the arena. You don't cry at just anything. Your reaction solidified to the audience the intense bond you have with your sister, but in a way that makes the Capitol look far worse- because now they are the bad ones trying to separate you on your wedding day. But can the Capitol really blame you? It was obvious that you were unscripted. Frankly, I think it was a pretty dumb move on the Capitol's part. In fact, I wouldn't be all that surprised if they changed your wedding date."

"We'll see, I guess," I reply and fake a laugh as I pull back. "Though there's no point in stressing about it right now." The last few hours have completely drained me emotionally. "I'm ready to go up to bed." I look at Peeta. "You coming?"

I don't have to ask Peeta twice- he follows me up to the 12th floor of the part of the Training Center tower that houses the tributes- I assume we are staying where we did for the Games. We are, but we don't stay there very long, only to change into comfortable clothes- we are both too far away from sleep. We've gone through too much today. An unspoken arrangement, we head up to the rooftop where we can talk.

"So what did you think of everything that happened today?" I whisper to Peeta. There was a reason that we didn't talk to each other after we got offstage, in the presence of Haymitch and Effie and people from the Capitol. It was so much better to talk like this. Sitting Indian-style in the garden. No one to hear us, nothing but wind chimes to distract us. He leans in close to reply.

"I can't believe that they would arrange the wedding date to coincide with the end of the Quell like that," he said. "It was so cruel, so deliberate."

I nod my head in agreement. But I am cried out from earlier; I can't get emotional right now. "Yeah, it was," I say matter-of-factly.

Peeta continues. "But regardless of what you think, I think that you responded perfectly. The Capitol never would have pegged you to react emotionally like that- I know I've never seen you that way before. That makes it all the more effective. I bet sponsors will be lining up around the block for Prim now. I know if I were a sponsor I would."

There goes Peeta, saying the right thing again. I manage a smile. "You might be a little biased. But thank you. And….thank you for everything tonight. Cinna. Keeping us from having to drink that awful stuff in those wine glasses. The cake. And the bread….," I am wrong, I am feeling emotional again. My eyes start to well up with tears. I don't know why I am feeling this way, why the ultra-expressive side of me has taken over this evening when she has hidden herself for seventeen years, but the tears in my eyes overflow and slip down my cheeks.

Peeta leans closer and gently kisses my face where my tears had fallen. "Katniss…." He begins, but his throat catches for a second, and he doesn't say anything else. We lock eyes for a moment, faces still a mere inch apart. He reaches his hand up to stroke my hair. And then he leans in ever-so-slightly and softly presses his lips to mine.

The kiss lasts just a few moments, but feels completely different than any other one that we've ever shared. Because, for once, it wasn't in front of the cameras, for the audience, or to please the Capitol- this one was just for us.