We gather in the town square. It isn't mandated, but it seems like the thing to do. Viewing isn't required in each household, but almost everyone in town bands together in unspoken unity. Even Haymitch has joined the gathered crowd, though he consciously stands on the outskirts looking in. When Peeta slips his hand into mine, I don't pull away. Instead, I wrap an arm around his waist and casually lean into his side. I'm trying to get better with displaying affection in public, though it's still hard. Peeta appreciates the attempt and slides his arm around my shoulders.
It's funny, how easy it seems to be with him now. Sometimes I wonder why I ever hesitated in the first place. But of course I know, for even now I have moments of uncertainty. Darkness settles over me and I tell myself we can't possibly last for the long haul. Most of the time, I can ignore the nagging voice and just let myself be happy.
Though no one polices where we stand, no ushering of the crowd into specific confined corrals, people migrate into groups. The children gather together towards the back of the square. With no interest in what's happening on the screen, they busy themselves with animated chatter and laughter. The sexes aren't segregated, but small groups form. The girls gather to one side while the boys stay on the other.
The process feels familiar, but the atmosphere could not differ more from Reaping Day. Kids bubble over with excitement, glad for any excuse not to go to school for the day. Even the adults are chatting away in their own groups. The worried faces of desperate parents no longer fill the square. If anything, an air of anticipation surrounds us all. It's much more comfortable than dread.
As the elections begin, a calm quiet settles over the gathered crowd. I have a strange indifference to it all, but I know Peeta is interested in the outcome. While Paylor still has another year before she is up for reelection, the country is starting to form the rest of the government with today's proceedings. Together as one, we step in a new direction; we're all anxious to see the results. While I had preferred never to gather in the square again, these elections carry none of the spite still waging inside me over the alternative.
A chill runs through me in the cool spring afternoon. Peeta pulls me closer into his side as he rests his cheek against my head. An audible yawn reminds me he woke up early for the pre-elections rush in the bakery before the entire town shut down. I'd risen in the middle of the night, for once from a dream instead of a nightmare, and he had already slipped away to his toils. I imagine it'll be an early night tonight for us both. I'd gone out into the woods before sunrise to try to bag a few squirrels for supper. Greasy Sae offered to cook our weekly dinner with Haymitch tonight. I suspect she's looking for an excuse for us to see her and her granddaughter, and for us to unload a few coins onto her. Both sound good to me.
The elections carry the typical pomp and circumstance of everything relating to the Capitol, but everything about the situation feels serious. Ironically, it feels more serious in the Capitol than when they were sending twenty-three kids to their deaths. I guess they're worried about their comfort of living in their cushy homes in the Capitol. Heaven forbid they have to work a day in their lives.
I do wonder how that's shaking out in the Capitol and in the other districts closer to the Capitol. No one in Twelve is a stranger to a hard day's work, not even those who lived comparatively comfortable lives. But many in the Capitol, One, and Two were used to certain comforts under Snow's reign. We didn't get a chance while in the Capitol to see how the new reality was settling in, and it was the furthest thing from my mind when visiting Gale in Two.
Even if they are earning their keep now, it hasn't affected their sense of style. Almost everyone native to the Capitol looks utterly ridiculous. Even most of the hopefuls from the Districts running for a seated position dressed to fit into the local customs of bright colors and outlandish designs. Seeing all the different types of style both entertains and sickens me a little. It's hard to associate anything to do with the Capitol with anything other than contempt.
We stay standing in the town square for almost the entire day while ballots are counted and the prevailing governmental officials are announced. Actual voting took place a few weeks ago. Even that had felt a bit like the Reaping. We'd lined up single file in front of rows of Capitol officials. When we reached the table, they'd ask our name, flip through the books, prick our fingers, verify our identity, then give us a ballot. They ushered us to small tables spread through the square, where each citizen went and cast their ballot. Once finished, we'd placed them into a closed, secured box and returned to our normal activities.
The ballots went back to the Capitol on the train, collected in each District. The whole process should have filled me with excitement, but I couldn't muster much emotion of any kind. I felt numb the entire time, just as I do now. Disassociated from everything around me, I wonder if it even matters. Will we ever be able to change who we are at the core of our humanity? Or is this just the calm in between the storms before history repeats itself?
We are all corruptible. I killed people whose names I didn't even know. In the Arenas and during the War. Gale plotted the demise of children for the so called greater good. And even Peeta, sweet, innocent Peeta, plotted and schemed with the worst of them in the Arena in order to help protect me. A darkness dwells in each and every one of us. If I've learned anything it's that it doesn't take much to tip the scale and draw it out. Once that happens, there is no going back. It's all madness from there.
"Why so gloom and doom?" Peeta asks me as if reading my mind.
I shake my head, knowing I won't be able to explain the mess of thoughts running through it. My pessimism isn't something I like to dump on Peeta, so I bottle it up inside and force it down. With a smile that is almost heartfelt, I focus my attention on the large screen in the square. I try to memorize the names as the positions are announced and the new officials declared. There is a smattering of applause here and there for various candidates, most likely family or friends or friends of friends. Gale wins a seat as a delegate for District Two and the crowd roars in approval. I guess not everyone feels as abandoned as Hazelle and I.
The crowd stays throughout the entire broadcast, though we start to grow restless towards the end. As the screen grows dark, people instantly start to file out. Peeta's hand lowers to my waist and I feel his lips press against my temple as he regrettably pulls away. I know what it means before he says it. It is his sweet goodbye, the first sign that he is going back to the bakery instead of the house with me.
"I should head back," he says on cue. "There ought to be a crowd milling around the square, and I barely have any reserves from this morning."
I want to tell him to bunk off anyway. To let them fend for themselves for once. But I know standing in the square all day has not been the easiest thing for Peeta either, and the bakery is his best form of escape. So I stop myself from being selfish and keep my pleas to myself. Making a non-committal noise, I almost offer to help out. But the bakery will be busy and I'll only serve as a distraction. It's better if I don't even put the suggestion out there.
"We'll wait for you for dinner," I tell him as we begin to pull apart.
"Haymitch," Peeta says, remembering what day of the week it is. It sounds almost like a curse. "You can go ahead and eat without me tonight if you want." I would rather drive a stake through my hand than suffer through dinner tonight with Haymitch alone. "There is no telling how late I'm going to be."
"We'll wait," I insist with a smile.
"Right." His eyebrows do a quick raise as he calls me out on my cowardliness. "I'll try to close as quickly as I can then."
"No rush," I lie.
"For the safety of everyone," he insists. Then it's a final kiss, and we're being pulled apart in opposite directions with the natural flow of the crowd dispersing.