Chapter 5: Something Wicked This Way Comes
The next morning, the twelve new residents gathered in the largest classroom. They were arrayed in a loose circle and eyeing each other with some trepidation when the door banged open. Not knowing who or what to expect, jaws dropped when the tall redhead sauntered in and leaned gracefully against the door.
"Well, well… what have we here? Look at all the eager faces and bright smiles this lovely morning!" he grinned disarmingly. "I'm not a fan of 'my name is' stickers or the part where everyone tells their life story. Takes too long and besides, it's boring as hell." He pushed off the door and twirled the only empty chair around, straddled it and rested his chin on his crossed arms. "The rules here are simple. Listen to what everyone has to say. Participate in group activities, and revere me for the wonderful creature that I am." A dozen disbelieving looks greeted his pronouncement, causing Finnick Odair to chuckle quietly. "Now I don't mean to come across as a pompous ass, but I've found that complete honesty is the best policy in situations like this."
Bounding to his feet one again, he struck a deliberately heroic pose with feet spread apart, chest puffed out, and hands braced commandingly on his hips. "Don't let this distract you, I'm really quite harmless." He reached into his pocket and drew out a handful of sugar cubes, carelessly popping one into his mouth. A moment of stunned silence pervaded the room, but then was broken by Prim and Rue's giggling. They looked at each other, lost in a moment of shared hilarity, and then back at Finnick. The giggles continued unabated and Finnick himself grinned like a fiend. "There, now. The tension is all broken, nothing to be uncomfortable about anymore. Everyone can talk like friends." Losing the overbearing air, Finnick let a genuine smile cross his face and surveyed the group expectantly.
"All right, then. I'll start just to get the ball rolling, so to speak. My name is Finnick Odair. I've worked here for four years. I am not married but I am accepting applications for the position. I grew up locally, went to school here, and will probably fossilize here. I know what you're probably thinking—how can this guy possibly know what we're going through to end up here? Simple, I used to sit right where you are now." Here, Finnick completely dropped the playful demeanor and his eyes became solemn and somewhat sad. "I grew up in the system. My mom left me at a clinic when I was three. I was bounced from foster home to foster home for longer than I care to mention. At age thirteen, I was assigned a new case worker. He insisted on weekly meetings and whoever happened to be my guardian at the time was forced by the courts to comply. What they didn't know or didn't care about was the fact that my case worker was involving me in a little sideline business he had going for years. I was just the latest in a string of many others he had taken advantage of. The system and lack of supervision gave him all the freedom he needed. No one ever asked me about what went on during our little chats or the strangers who attended them. No one cared until Haymitch Abernathy. He stumbled onto the situation and luckily for me, was determined to help in any way possible. Long story short, Haymitch became my new worker, kept me from completely losing my mind, and hired me once I got my degree."
He drew a deep breath, visibly pulling himself back together. The silence in the room was deafening. Finnick, however, wasn't one to stay down for long. He met each gaze, smiled and questioned, "Why so serious, boys and girls? That was supposed to be an uplifting, heartwarming story. They keep telling me I need to look those two words up. I guess they're right if these long faces are anything to go by." He reached toward the stack of leather binders. "But enough about me; I want to know something about you. These are for you. Inside, you will find sketch paper, regular note paper, and a few writing implements. I don't care if you think you don't know how to write or draw. That is irrelevant to me. I want your attention and your cooperation. I also want you to have an open mind when considering these exercises. There are no grades or wrong answers. This is about you, unedited and uncut. That's all I want. I want your story in your words and pictures. Give me something real. I'm interested. I want to get to know you. So, enthrall me with your acumen, as Dr. Hannibal Lecter would say. The first assignment is a picture. It doesn't have to be a Picasso. Draw for me your happiest memory. Something that made you feel giddy and sure that nothing could ever be better than that particular moment. I'll be wandering around for the next forty-five minutes while you work on that. Ask any questions that pop into your head." He waved his hands in a flapping fashion, gesturing for them to proceed.
Prim grabbed her binder and took out the pencils and pens provided. She thought furiously for a while, then slowly began to move the pencil across the paper.
It had been 4 years since their parents had passed away. Prim was supposed to have a picnic at the park with her friends after a soccer match. It started raining steadily the night before and once morning came, it showed no signs of letting up. The call came in to cancel the outing and Prim was devastated. Peeta was supposed to be studying for finals. However, after fifteen minutes of her staring moodily out the window, he closed his books and dragged her into the kitchen. Peeta's answer to any kind of turmoil was to bake. It was what their father taught him to do, and he still fell back on that habit. Prim had never learned, but he didn't let that small fact stop him. Soon, mixing bowls, flour and parchment paper covered every available inch of counter space in the kitchen. Peeta toasted hazelnuts and almonds while Prim mixed up the cream cheese filling. The chocolate was melting slowly in a double boiler on the stove. The end results were a mix of burnt and soggy. They were lopsided and haphazard and Prim was almost embarrassed when she saw the final product displayed on the counter. Peeta, however, popped one in his mouth, swearing that they were the best things he had ever eaten. They took the rest along with glasses of milk into the living room and watched old movies for the remainder of the day.
Prim didn't understand why this memory came to mind so clearly at Finnick's prompting. But he had asked for something truthful and real, so it was the best Prim had to offer. She roughed in the outlines then went back to detail the figures. She shaded and rubbed the lines to create shadows and depth. She used the pen sparingly to create contrast. When she heard Finnick step behind her, she glanced up to meet his sea-green gaze, flushing uncomfortably.
Finnick quickly perused the drawing, nodded his approval and patted her on the shoulder. He moved onto Rue and bent down, whispering a question. Prim shifted over and angled her gaze, trying to get a glimpse of Rue's picture. Finnick, catching the movement, gestured for her to move closer. She sidled in and Rue tipped the binder, allowing Prim to see what was inside. The drawing was elementary. Stick figures and rectangle trees dominated the scene. One that was obviously meant to be Rue sat underneath a high limb, whistling or singing. An oddly formed but recognizable bird sat close by her and seemed to echo the notes. Finnick grinned at both girls and said, "Looks like someone has something in common with our Ms. Everdeen. Did she ever tell you that the birds stop to listen when she sings? We should get the two of you going at once. They wouldn't know what to do." Rue looked at him in disbelief; however, Prim wasn't so sure that he was exaggerating. Maybe she could talk Katniss into giving a demonstration.
Rue gestured toward Prim's folder and she handed it over without thought. Rue's eyes widened and Prim felt self-consciousness heat her cheeks. Drawing was just something she did. She wasn't especially talented. Rue, however, looked at the simple pencil sketch in awe. Finnick had wandered away by that point so Rue was able to gesture to the drawing questioningly without raising any suspicions. "You want me to draw something for you?" Prim asked. Rue nodded and pointed to Peeta in the picure. Prim let confusion pucker her brow for a second before understanding came. "You want me to draw your family? Sure. You'll have to tell me about them, describe them to me so that I can get it right." Rue nodded furiously and the two girls put their heads together, one sketching swiftly and the other nodding and pointing. Finnick observed this from afar, with a satisfied smile stretched across his face.
Katniss moved quickly over the rack of bows and quivers, visually examining each one for any flaws. She pulled out an arrow from each bundle, examining the nock, feathers, and shaft. With newcomers, she didn't want to take any chances. Hearing a familiar tread behind her, she said quietly, "Hello, Gale. You're checking up on me?"
"No, Catnip, just wanted to see if you needed any help. Finnick will be sending eight of them your way any time now." Gale reached around her to pick up a bow, running a finger over the string and testing the tautness. "You want me to stick around so that we can run them in doubles? Might go a little faster."
Katniss nodded, "Sounds like a good idea. Eight, huh? Didn't think that many of them would be interested. I'm usually lucky to get two or three. Have to wonder what makes me so popular?"
"Who could possibly resist that face?" Gale teased, tugging on the end of her braid. "Certainly not our wandering baker turned graphic designer. He is definitely interested."
Katniss pulled away quickly, giving him one of her best 'drop it' looks. She had no intentions of discussing her relationship or lack of one with Gale Hawthorne, even if he was her best friend. "You don't know what you're talking about, Gale. He's just being nice because we're helping his little sister. It's just gratitude. Don't make more of it than it is."
Gale looked at her, his eyes sad and withdrawn. He watched her as she watched him and then quietly asked, "This is about Ryder, isn't it? Katniss, it's been five years. He wouldn't have wanted this for you. You know that." He drew back swiftly as her eyes flashed gray fire.
"How can you say that? How can you say that to me?" she screamed, her hand connecting solidly with his cheek. "I know how long it's been, Gale. I think about it every day. I know he wouldn't want this. Hell, Gale, I don't want this. But I can't go back and change it. I can't forget him."
His cheek stinging, Gale shook his head. "You can't keep using his death as an excuse to keep from living, Katniss. He died. You didn't." His hand cupped her chin, forcing her gaze up to his. "He's a good man. He could make you happy if you let him. You can't keep hiding behind work and excuses."
Katniss felt her hands shaking and clenched her fists together, fighting for control. Gale Hawthorne had been her best friend since they were both five years old. Ryder Hawthorne had been the only one who ever put a claim on her heart. She and Gale were enrolled in their first year at the university. Ryder had come up on a weekend hop before being deployed overseas with the rest of his unit. The two of them had been frequent companions over the years, often doubling with Gale and whoever he happened to be in love with that week. Something about this visit felt different. They went on solitary walks, hands grazing occasionally but finally culminating in fingers being intertwined. Kisses were exchanged in the tipsy moonlight. This led to letters coming in from various bases all over the world. The infrequent leaves found them catching stolen moments before he was called away yet again. The last trip home had come with confessions of undying love and a ring to seal the promise. Only Gale had known about the engagement. And only Gale knew just how devastated she was when the word came that Ryder had been killed while guarding a convoy.
The sound of approaching feet forced her from her reverie and she shook herself free of the deluge of memories. The eight new arrivals stood clustered to one side of the range, unsure where to go or what to do. Katniss assumed a blank welcoming face and gestured for them to line up just beyond the edge of the field. She smiled warmly, "Glad that you could join me this morning. I'm pleased that so many of you are interested in my little hobby." She picked up her favorite bow. "How many of you have ever fired a bow before?" Two hands went up, Marvel and a smallish boy named Ray. She eyed them and clarified, "How many have used a recurve bow instead of a compound bow before?" The two hands went up again and she grinned. "Now you're speaking my language. For those of you who aren't familiar with the different types, those with the elliptical wheels close to either end of the string are compound bows. They reduce the force required to hold the string at full draw. The recurve bow requires a little more effort. If you're interested, let me show you what these can do."
She grabbed a quiver and stepped up to the target area. She pulled back, feet spaced shoulder width apart. Taking a deep breath, she drew back to maximum draw length, steadied the arrow with a finger, and blew out a half-breath. Pausing slightly and not even seeming to aim, she let the arrow go and then turned back to the group, smiling widely. They watched with gaping mouths as the arrow quivered at the dead center of the target. "Now," she chirped. "Who wants to go first?"
The next hour was spent correcting hand position, widening stances, and giving advice on the most effective methods of aiming. She was making notes on each one, writing down her observations while they were still fresh. Hearing a noise, she looked up to find Glimmer and Clove still clustered around the bows with Enobaria speaking quietly but firmly. Katniss cleared her throat, "Anything wrong, ladies?" All three shook their heads and began walking quickly away. Katniss then realized what had been nagging her previously, what she had overlooked. Clove and Glimmer had similar tattoos, one being a circle pattern enclosing a bird with outstretched wings clutching an arrow. It appeared to be on fire. What Katniss and the others had overlooked was the fact that Enobaria had the exact same tattoo on her wrist. The Gamesmakers. Three of Katniss, Gale and Finnick's twelve apparently had ties to one of the most violent street gangs in the city. The Gamesmakers didn't go for petty crimes such as drugs and gun running. They existed solely to subjugate, terrorize, and dominate. The flaming bird enclosed in a circle was one of the few things known about them, as they were experts at staying low and hidden. The only visible proof that they even existed was the occasional mutilated corpse showing up… usually festooned with the bird symbol. It served as both a signature and a brag. The Gamesmakers were untouchable. Katniss quickly jotted her notes into an email and sent them to Haymitch. This situation could get ugly very quickly. They would have to be careful.
Her train of thought was interrupted by her phone, announcing that she had a text. Glancing at the ID, she frowned when she realized it wasn't a number she was familiar with. Her cell phone number wasn't readily available to just anyone. She clicked on the message, and grinned as the sender became abundantly clear. "How about mtg 2mor?" Peeta Mellark. She sent back, "Why? Purpose is to rprt progress. Only been one day." She didn't have to wait long before the phone beeped again, "I want to see you. Please." Her breath shuddered in her throat. Damn Gale and his stupid encouragement. If he had just left her in peace, she wouldn't in this mess. Wouldn't even consider opening herself up again. Damn the man. Damn his blue eyes and sweet smile. Damn her traitorous heart for even considering it. She blew out an exhausted breath and picked up the phone, quickly punching in her reply. Covering her face in her hands, she flinched when she heard the phone beep again. Glancing down, she read, "Mockingbird Diner, 3pm. Don't be late." Clamping down on her galloping emotions, she tossed her phone back on the desk and hid her face in her hands once more.
Prim had been drawing nonstop since class rotation had finished up. Her fingers and wrist ached but she could have cared less. Rue was grinning ear to ear as she tacked up the finished portraits of her family on the wall above her bed. She had described them in exacting detail. Prim had sketched and revised each drawing until Rue pronounced it was perfect. She pasted the finished ones onto backing to protect them, which also made them easier to hang. It was exhausting and Prim was looking forward to a good night's sleep. However, it was worth it to see Rue happy.
The door banged open and before either girl realized they had company, the threesome had already entered and made themselves at home. Enobaria lounged in the solitary chair. Glimmer and Clove leaned against the dresser, watching and grinning. Enobaria wasted no time but addressed Rue pointedly, "You know what we are." Rue's terrified eyes met Prim's and tears began to roll down her face. Prim stood up but Clove and Glimmer cut her off, their hands on her arms to restrain her. Enobaria repeated, "I asked you a question. Do you know what we are?" Rue silently nodded, her eyes never leaving Enobaria's face. A satisfied smirk curled the older girl's lip. "Well now, I do believe we have found ourselves a Tribute. How very convenient." Rue made an animal-like whimper that chilled Prim's blood. She pulled against the hold Clove had on her arm, trying to get to her friend to offer what comfort she could. Glimmer jerked Prim back roughly, slapping her in the back of the head sharply. Enobaria continued, ignoring the commotion behind her. "You will do what we say, when we say it, and how we say it. Otherwise, you know what will happen. Consider yourself reaped, little Tribute. You belong to us now. If you act out in any way or your friend causes the slightest hiccup in our plans, the punishment will be swift and painful." Rue curled back into her pillows, clutching the worn teddy bear tightly. Her hands were visibly shaking and the tears still poured forth. Prim could only watch in horror as Enobaria walked over and pulled one of the drawings from where it hung on the wall. "Think carefully, little Tribute, before causing any trouble. I can get to anyone at any time. They won't save you. They won't even hear you beg." She ripped the picture in half with one swift motion and tossed the pieces back onto the blankets. Smirking, Clove and Glimmer followed her out the door, shutting it behind them.
Prim carefully gathered Rue up in her arms, rocking her slowly and whispering nonsense as she tried to comfort her friend. Rue continued to sob quietly, her shaking hands clutching the teddy bear as her eyes stared fixedly on the ripped drawing. Prim wanted to go to Katniss but couldn't think of a way to keep the others from finding out. Her mind raced furiously, even as she kept rocking and whispering in a vain attempt at comfort. Her mind settled finally on the one hope she had, the only hope she ever had. She couldn't wait two weeks. Not now. Not with so much at stake. She had to talk to Peeta. He could help her. He always helped her. Prim continued to whisper and rock, her eyes, like Rue's, resting on the destroyed drawing. Peeta would know what to do. He just had to.
End Part 5