This chapter is definitely more fun than the last one. I love when I get to write for the whole group; it doesn't happen so often anymore. This is kind of a good opportunity to get to know everyone a little better too.

Katniss

I didn't expect District Thirteen to even have something as frivolous as a hair and makeup department, but apparently they do. It's nothing compared to the rigorous preparation we went through for our Capitol interviews- actually, it's really just Effie and a couple other Capitol refugees running around with brushes and hair bands.

Still, I find it stressful. I'm grateful to have every excuse in the world to stick close to Peeta, who is somehow completely unfazed by some lady named Merilon dabbing blush onto his cheeks. Even though we'll be high up on the podium, we have to look good for our audience. They love their close-ups here in District Thirteen.

"Well, this is it, everyone," Nolan announces. Despite his somber tone, I'm pretty sure he's in the best spirits of anyone here. It takes a lot to rattle Nolan. "After weeks of relative comfort and safety, we're doing it. We're going back into the arena."

I think all of us groan, mainly because we've been thinking the same thing. Something about this preparation does ring eerily similar.

"I'd take the arena over this," Storm mutters, kicking the ground. Her black hair is in bubble braids and she is in a horrendous mood. This could either be because she had to interact with her mental and physical opposite, Effie Trinket, or because H and Nolan are holding hands.

"Of course you would, Storm," Thunder puts in. "The arena was, like, made for you. I'm surprised you showed up for this at all."

Storm shoots him a dirty look- does she ever do anything else?- but he's not wrong. As far as I'm aware, this is the first time Storm has actually showed up for anything other than a meal.

"All of you, get along," Turquoise says sternly. As the new Mockingjay, she is dressed up substantially more than the rest of us, the only one who gets to wear something other than District Thirteen's standard gray. I've never been one for fashion, but at this current moment in time, I would like nothing more than to never wear gray again for the rest of my life.

"We are getting along!" H insists. She's been a right ray of sunshine ever since we got to District Thirteen- "rebel" looks good on her. Or maybe it's just the eyeliner. It makes her look way older than the rest of us. "Are you not familiar with friendly banter?"

Is H familiar with friendly banter? Does she think Storm is being friendly right now?

Despite being the smartest person in our group, I think H is a little clueless this time.

Everyone else seems to be having fun, but I grow continuously more nervous as stepping foot onstage gets closer. I can hear Coin droning on and on from backstage, and as dull as she inherently is, I hope it goes on forever. There are so many people out there- too many of them.

The only one who seems to share my nerves even a little bit is Thunder, and he's so mellow that I'm sure he'll do just fine. I, on the other hand, am liable to explode.

"Alright everyone, you'll be going on in district order!" Effie trills, which is something we all already know. I think she's thrilled to be working in hospitality again, even if the job description has changed somewhat. "Keep it to three minutes and under, remember to be positive, and SMILE!"

That last part is definitely not going to happen. I'm more likely to vomit. Or hit someone.

I try to comfort myself with "at least we don't have to go first" but in truth, being the finale is nearly as bad. Maybe most people will have left by then? No, Coin would never allow that. I'm sure attendance is mandatory.

At least I have Peeta. Nobody else can claim that. And that thought makes me feel just a little bit better as I watch the lady of the hour, Turquoise, slip through the door and onto the stage.

I can't see her from our little "getting ready" compartment in the back, but I can hear her just fine. She's fabulous, of course. They chose the new Mockingjay well. Turquoise does not just speak to the audience; she captivates them, and I'm certain her inspiring speech is exactly what President Coin was looking for. I'm equally certain Gale never could have done the same thing, even if Turquoise's words were right in front of him.

Everyone claps at her conclusion, a rare display of emotion from the most boring district ever. Thunder is next; I wish him good luck on the way out and he assures me he will need it. Despite that, he knocks it out of the park. Thunder's humble speech is another way of giving Coin exactly what she wants. "I never knew about the rebels until Turquoise blasted the arena apart," he says very solemnly. "...but I am so privileged to be a part of them now. I vow to give everything I have to this cause…and if that means my life, so be it."

Storm leads flatly off a card that Effie must have written out for her. I expected as much. Nolan, of course, is wonderful. In his Capitol interview, he came off as a buff Career playboy. Here, not so much, but I think I like this version of him better. "I joined the rebels a year ago," he announces. "After my brother, Cato, killed himself in the Hunger Games. Up until that point, I'd been deep in Career training myself and planning to volunteer when I was eighteen. His death made me wonder…why? What the hell is the point of training and purposefully going in there, risking your life and all the pain my brother went through?

"And from there…" he continues. "It's not much of a stretch to wonder, why do we have to have the Hunger Games at all?"

For most people, that was never in question, but District Two has always seen things a little differently.

"After Cato, there was Madge," Nolan announces, voice booming over the whole of District Thirteen. "She killed herself too- but she wasn't mad with grief or otherwise. It was a calculated, deliberate choice, and it made me realize I had a choice too. I didn't have to play their game. And from that moment on, I didn't."

He pauses. "...not more than I had to, anyway. Turns out, I did end up in the arena this year, and I have District Thirteen and the rebels to thank for that."

Not surprisingly, everybody loves him.

H goes next, in a direction I didn't expect. She talks about how much she hates fishing, but she never had a choice, being from District Four. She dreams of a free Panem where everyone has a choice- not just of whether they go fishing or not, but of where they live and what they do.

The fact that H has apparently fallen in love outside her district, well, that just makes a free country all the more valuable to her.

Then it's our turn, a terrifying prospect. Effie shoves me through the door- not necessary, I guess, but helpful- and I'm almost blinded by the spotlights. At least that means I can't see all the people, lined up in a dozen floors of viewing decks to watch us.

I grip Peeta's hand like a lifeline, and he takes the lead. I take a deep breath and run through my lines in my head, reminding myself to act in love, in love, in love.

It's not that hard. I have a lot of practice. I relax into that part of the role and hope the talking portion comes just as easily.

Peeta starts us off well, talking about how lucky we are to be part of the rebels now and the injustices we've suffered at the hands of the Capitol. This effectively leads into my part of the speech. I take a deep breath. "…but the greatest injustice yet is what they did after our escape. As revenge, they placed all of our siblings- Primrose, Rye, Hiron, Maris, and Jewel- into the very arena Turquoise broke us out of. The Capitol is continuing to do what it does best: putting children in danger to keep the rest of us in line, and nothing could make me want to fight more than that."

My voice is shaking towards the end, and I'm relieved when Peeta takes over. Compared to me, he's a natural onstage. Everyone seems to magically love listening to him- myself included. He just makes so much sense.

The conclusion of our speech is up to me. Peeta squeezes my hand as I finish his sentence. "...and we are so grateful to District Thirteen for their part in our rescue and the uprisings. Long live the Mockingjay, long live the rebellion!"

I'll never enjoy public speaking, but I guess there is something nice about uproarious applause. Peeta kisses the top of my head for the cameras (we had agreed that a kiss on the mouth would be too obviously staged) and we slip backstage again, while Plutarch Heavensbee takes the stage. I guess, all things considered, he is a refugee too and is obligated to make a speech. The difference that he actually knew what was going on the whole time, while the rest of us were just dragged into it with varying degrees of consent.

There's a snack table set up now, and that's the best thing that's happened to me since they pulled us out of the arena. Finally, something that's not mashed or soy or both. Compared to the cafeteria food they serve, a platter of cheese and crackers is pure luxury.

"You did so good!" Turquoise tells me excitedly, when I finally get around to the mingling part myself. "Everyone loved it; I could tell. But if I could just make one tiny suggestion…"

I bite back a groan. "I'll hear you out."

"Should this ever come up again, I might add a 'long live the President' to that outro," she says delicately, with a pointed nod to my left.

I look without making it look like I'm looking. Sure enough, there's Coin, staring me down like she personally wants to put a bullet through my head. I groan in despair. Honestly, what kind of grown adult president has beef with a seventeen-year-old? That's just unprofessional.

"Other than that, phenomenal speech," Turquoise concludes. "Oh, hey, Storm! I loved that monotone bit you did, really fantastic!"

Storm grunts in response, and I edge away from this conversation. With the mood Storm is in, this could turn ugly in seconds. I already feel like I've been in battle today. No need for a second round.

I'm relieved to be back at Peeta's side. I can always count on him; that's for sure. He goes in like he's about to kiss my cheek but instead whispers in my ear, "Do you want to sneak up to the roof?"

A secret. I like it. I gnaw on my lip. "...I don't think I could find the door again without Finnick."

"I have a map; we can leave right now."

Well, I'm sold. My social battery ran out hours ago, and I always feel most like myself when I'm outside. Not to mention, this is the perfect time to do something that may or may not be against the rules- everyone's occupied by the speeches and the fanfare. I doubt anyone will even notice we're gone.

We sneak down a couple hallways before Peeta breaks out his map. I look on in wonder- it's incredibly detailed and professional, not at all what I expected, which was a couple vague "turn left" and "turn rights" scrawled on a piece of paper. "Where did you get this?"

He gives me a sneaky smile. "Finnick gave it to me. All I had to do was ask."

Looking closer, I can see there are several touches to the map that are undeniably Finnick. Notes like "Finnick's Room" with a little smiley face and "Haymitch's Room" with a hand-drawn skull and crossbones. For a rebel higher-up, I think Finnick Odair has way too much time on his hands.

Nonetheless, I have no choice but to be grateful, because there's no way this would have been possible otherwise. Once again, the series of twists and turns and questionable stairwells seem to take forever, but it's all worth it the moment we step out into the cool night air. I take a deep breath, savoring every molecule of it. I hadn't realized how trapped I felt until I got out of there.

District Thirteen at night is certainly something to behold. Above the ground, the only sign of civilization is the trapdoor we sprang out of. Pitch black envelopes us; we can see every star for miles. Regardless of what's below us, we could not be more alone.

Part of me wishes we'd brought Nolan and H on our escapade. Most of me is happy it's just the two of us. There's not much of that these days. Everything down there feels crowded, spoiled by rooming with Storm and living in the same vicinity as Haymitch- the same floor, according to Peeta's map.

We don't stray far from the trapdoor. It's so dark out, I don't know if we'd be able to find it again if we lost track of its position. We'd have to stay out here until dawn if we wanted to get back in.

Although…I muse. Do I really want to get back in?

No matter what crap I spouted in our speech an hour ago, I know District Thirteen could never be my home. It's temporary at best, and if I really had a choice, I'd choose the untamed wilderness just above the surface.

I guess it's not so bad. It's not really so bad. It just could never be District Twelve, as dismal as some of those days were. It's the devil you know versus the devil you don't.

It's a little chilly out, but still a welcome change from the damp, cave-esque air of inside. I'm perfectly comfortable laying on my back and stargazing, with Peeta next to me. I know all the constellations- he doesn't. Perks of having a rebellious, wilderness explorer for a father, I guess. Peeta seems happy to listen to me ramble about the stars, at least. He's never been one to complain.

I've pointed out every star I know, yet neither of us is ready to go back in. I can sense it, the tension in the air that means we should go back to real life and real responsibilities but we just…don't. That tension is matched one-hundred-percent by an overwhelming sense of peace, and whether that is from the cool evening breeze or the way our elbows continually brush, I do not know.

"I wonder if they've noticed we're gone yet," says Peeta, punctuated by a yawn.

"Who's they?" I ask. Storm won't care. Peeta doesn't have a roommate to notice. Haymitch seems incapable of minding his own business where we are concerned, but I imagine he has better things to do tonight. The gathering was treated as a celebratory occasion- maybe he'll have access to alcohol for the first time in weeks. That would certainly keep him distracted.

"Anyone, I guess." The grass rustles, indicating that Peeta has shrugged. I keep my eyes on the stars.

"Gale, maybe," I say. But even that, I doubt. I didn't see Gale at all today- it wouldn't surprise me if he was laying low and sulking, or at the very least avoiding Turquoise, which by extension includes the rest of us from the Career pack. "...but I bet nobody has."

A pause. Then, Peeta speaks up. "Do you remember when I tried to teaching you to bake?"

"Of course I do," I answer immediately. That was hardly more than a year ago, and any good memory from that otherwise-fairly-stressful time is bound to stick out. "I was a natural."

"I still think my expert guidance should get most of the credit," he says, cockily enough I know he's joking. "I'd kill to eat bread like that now."

"None of the stuff they serve is up to your standards, huh?"

"Not even close."

"They should put you in charge of the kitchens."

"If only," he sighs. Then, suddenly sounding very far away, "Everything was so different then."

You and I were different. I won't say it out loud, but that's always what I'll think of when I remember last summer. It was before everything changed.

I prop myself on one elbow so I can look at him properly. It's too dark to see much more than a silhouette, but my eyes have adjusted enough to get a general idea. "I assume you're not just talking about the bread."

I think he smiles, but it's hard to tell. "No. Not just the bread."

I want to hear him say it, I think. I want to know if we're thinking the same thing.

Then, suddenly, he's joking again. "It's mostly the bread, though. Other than that, I think District Thirteen is perfect. The atmosphere is just phenomenal."

I fight the urge to shove him, although I have to admit I'm relieved as well. Not that I'd ever put a name to what I'd been thinking. Or, arguably, wanting.

There's one other thing I'll always remember about that summer.

I turn away before I can do something stupid like try to reenact it, right here, right now.

I FORGOT ABOUT THE FINNICK MAP LMAOOOOOO