Chapter 41:
Unable to make any sense of my thoughts, I turn on the TV in the sitting room in anticipation of the presentation of the victor, though the broadcast isn't on yet- there's a silent countdown still reading over an hour to go before the programming starts. Though I have every intention of watching it, I had been up since four-something in the morning and experienced one of the more emotional days of my entire life. Being alone in the quiet makes me suddenly overwhelmingly tired, and I drift off to sleep within minutes.
It is a blessing, really. Because instead of scrutinizing and analyzing Prim on the broadcast, wondering if she is okay and trying to decipher her responses in a schmoozed interview, I wake up to Prim gently tapping on my leg. She had changed into her pajamas and taken off her makeup. Looking at her, I gasp.
Cinna and the prep team had done a lot in the short time that they had her- her hair is vibrant and shiny, she is free of any major cuts or blemishes, her skin is smooth and supple. Yet- she looks so different. She lost a bit of weight- not as much as most tributes- it was only four days after all, and she had more to eat than most thanks to the stash the alliance swiped at the Cornucopia. But she had less to lose to begin with, and the weight that she did lose had a huge effect on her- the bones of her face stick out more now, making her look- so much older. But it is the change behind her eyes that bothers me the most- something the prep team couldn't alter no matter how hard they tried- the Quell had taken away her innocence. The childlike wonder and naiveté that I loved in her expression has vanished. It was that expression that I had worked so hard to hold onto- taking the tesserae, volunteering in her place in last year's Games- and now it is gone. I hate the Capitol for that more than for any other reason.
"Prim," I squeak her name out, unsure of what to say. I go for the obvious, Mom-like question. "Are you all right?"
Prim gives me a sad little smile, a half-shrug. "Why wouldn't I be? I won, right?" I can hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.
My anger at the Capitol intensifies- what have they done to my sister? I need to shake her out of this. Still lying on the couch, I jump to my feet and engulf her in my embrace, pulling her close for a hug. She accepts it, but the emotional wall that Prim has constructed around herself remains firmly in place even after I squeeze her tightly for several seconds. I briefly shudder, horrorstruck, as it occurs to me who she reminds me of- myself. My pre-Peeta self, anyway. Guarded. I try to reach out, say anything I can to make the wall crack. "Of course you wouldn't be. It was a dumb question- and I'm sorry that I asked. I was just trying to break the ice." I stroke Prim's hair gently, trying to let her know that I mean it.
She nods stiffly, softens just a little. "Does Peeta hate me?" She takes a deep breath. "Katniss, I would never have done- what I did- if I didn't really believe-….and- I feel, well, horrible…."
"No, Prim," I shake my head, interrupting her. "He doesn't hate you. He's upset, but he understands. Don't worry about that," I assure her. I clear my throat; try anything to lighten the subject. "Besides," I say, "I think he's looking forward to the wedding tomorrow."
Prim nods, but it's clear that my diversionary tactic is not going to work. She could care less about the formal event itself- at this point, I can hardly blame her, as I'm not sure how much I care about it either- though I can acknowledge that I love Peeta now, my view on marriage hasn't changed- and all of the nuances of the event itself bore me to death. I decide to try something else. Like ask her something that I really need to know the answer to.
"Prim," I begin, unsure of how to phrase my question, before deciding directness is the only way I know how to broach the subject, "Did you get on the hovercraft because of me?" I look at her seriously.
She nods. "Yes," she replies. But then she hesitates a moment. "But- Katniss, I'm glad I did, so I don't want you to feel bad about it." And for an instant, she softens more, and I recognize a flash of the old Prim.
I start to tear up, nodding vigorously. "Okay then," I reply. "I'm glad you did, too." Satisfied with her response, but in no way wanting to get more emotional than I am already, I shift gears again. "How did it go tonight?"
Prim shrugs. "It went okay, I guess." She hugs me this time, pulling me close and whispering very softly in my ear, "I think I said all the right things. I didn't hint as to how mad I was about Annella, and Jack, and Carrie…." But the emotion in her voice as she says their names says it all, at least to me. And once again I am reminded of my previous thoughts, Peeta's words. If we can't stop them….
"So….what should do we do about it?" I ask her vaguely.
She shrugs. "I have no idea. We'll have to talk about it later." I know what she's referring to- with people that might actually be able to help us, away from Capitol bugs. We can't be reckless. I let the subject drop and hug her one more time.
"I'm so glad to have you back," I lie. Because she's not completely back, as much as I want her to be. She never will be. And I will forever hate the Capitol for it.
Haymitch and Effie return to the floor some time later. Haymitch's mindset has remarkably improved- after all, he got to escort Prim into a Capitol arena filled with screaming people, and take credit for keeping at least one District 12 tribute alive the second year in a row. Prim and I ask Haymitch to the roof, and he grudgingly follows. When we get to the garden, I ask him the question that's been in and out of my mind since Peeta brought it up. "Can we stop what's planned for tomorrow?" His jaw drops a second before she realizes that I'm talking about the executions, not the wedding. But even after he realizes his mistake, his face hardens and he shakes his head emphatically.
"Absolutely not," Haymitch replies. "We don't have the manpower. This is exactly why the rebel attack failed- because the rebels didn't have patience. If we had waited until Districts 7 and 11 had a rebel stronghold, we might have had more of a chance of success. But the rebels got greedy- and look what happened. After today, we can't afford any more impulsive decisions- it's what got us into this mess in the first place. If we're ever going to win, we need to formulate a better strategy, think more long-term. It's a hopeless mission, Katniss. You need to recognize that and let it go."
"But," I interrupt him, "how are we going to get more people that want to be on our side, if we don't do anything now?"
Haymitch doesn't have an answer for that one, so he deflects the question. "Besides," he continues, "tomorrow is the day that the Capitol has been waiting for. All of the months of preparation for your wedding are going to assure that they have greater Peacekeeper presence than usual, that certain entrances/exits will be blocked off, that security will be heightened. It's just awful timing."
He has a point, as much as I don't want to admit it. But what then, I'm just supposed to watch the tributes executed? Just before putting on a fake smile for the Capitol citizens? And then Haymitch unknowingly attempts to answer my question.
"Katniss, they'll be keeping you so busy you won't even have time to watch it. Which is probably best anyway. Trust me. The rebellion needs to regroup at this point. I just hope they're smart enough to realize it." He gestures towards the stairs, indicating that the discussion is over.
Prim nods, thoughtful- she had been silent throughout the exchange, but it looks as though Haymitch has managed to convince her. He does make a compelling argument- and that's after numerous shots of liquor- it almost scares me how effective he would be sober. But I'm not likely to have to worry about that anytime soon.
Prim and I head downstairs, and thankfully she is receptive to us sleeping together- I can't stand the thought of not having my sister close to me tonight. Somehow, I hang onto the ridiculous notion that if I can just hug and comfort her during the night, that she'll magically wake up less hardened somehow. I fall asleep with Prim in my arms, clinging to her desperately. But I'm not asleep long when I'm awakened by Peeta kissing me softly on the cheek.
I look up at him in the dim light, sweaty from all of his efforts in the bakery, flour and icing in his hair, and to me he has never looked better. I smile, but I'm completely disoriented. "Wait," I whisper, "what time is it? Aren't I not supposed to see you today?"
Peeta's returning smile is warmer than the ovens he's been using. "It's before midnight," he replies. "11:52. I escaped for a few minutes so that I could see you before tomorrow."
"You're not done yet?"
"Oh, no, not even close," he replies. "I still have a lot of frosting to do. I was just wondering if there have been any…." He leans real close, whispers in my ear softly, "….plans made." He doesn't move away.
I whisper back, equally as quiet. "Haymitch talked us out of it. Said that the rebels don't have the strength yet to do anything but regroup."
"Maybe not…but we do. Come on, Katniss, they're not going to kill us. Look at the preparation they've put into our wedding. Think of the outrage that will happen if we're punished. So we jump up at the last minute, beg the Capitol to postpone the executions until after the wedding or we don't get married, and what choice do they have? They'll need to save face. We might pay for it later, but by that time the rebellion will be stronger." He is close enough and quiet enough that I don't worry that anyone will hear us.
Typical Peeta- wanting to fight with words instead of weapons. But he's right- and the thought that Peeta and I, alone, possess the power to take such drastic action- the thought gets me really excited. My heart starts racing as I think about the implications of all of this. It doesn't take me long. After a few seconds, I nod eagerly. "I'm in."
"Great," he murmurs softly, giving me a smile. "Let's meet outside the Remake center at 11:45. It will be easy for me to get away- I should be done at the bakery by then, and I doubt my prep team will need me yet- but you'll need to come up with something. Think you can manage?"
I nod fervently. I whisper to him, "Are you sure about this?" Though he has already managed to convince me that I am. I add, "You will be seeing me tomorrow before the wedding after all- hopefully it won't jinx us."
Peeta nods. "Absolutely," he whispers back. And then giving me a sexy look, he adds, "and Katniss, there isn't a superstition out there that will convince me that marrying you isn't the best idea ever." And with that, he leans in just a bit further for a kiss.
I still have my arms around Prim, who is sleeping peacefully next to me, rendering me utterly immobile. But I feel the raw passion within Peeta transfer to his searing lips, then to mine. Though nothing but our lips touch, it is, without a doubt, the hottest kiss we've ever shared.
With excitement over our plans for tomorrow morning- not to mention Peeta himself- I have a hard time getting back to sleep.