Storm 3 Boggs' dad

Katniss

I don't go to school the next day. Nothing Peeta can say can convince me otherwise. With the news of the Quarter Quell kicking off again, I can't picture myself in a classroom learning about polynomials.

I don't eat anything, either. I can't. I lie in bed for hours, feeling sick and broken. All I can think of is my sister, about to go to her death. I would have done anything to keep her out of the arena. Anything. But I didn't know. I had never thought my chain of mistakes, from kissing Gale to the lie with Peeta to sticking with the Careers, would haunt her as well as me. It's all my fault.

Eventually I grow restless. I wish more than anything I could do something, something that would help, but Haymitch's dismissal yesterday made my role pretty clear. I am supposed to somehow not care while the rebels take control of the districts. The idea seems impossible to me.

I can't just sit still, though. In the moment, that is even more impossible. My feet move almost of their own accord, tugging me around the district like a ghost. Past the school wing. Past Command. Past places I've never been before, all as gray and dull as I feel right now.

I don't know how long I would have wandered if I hadn't heard a pair of familiar voices arguing in a hall. I recognize Storm's right away. Her shrill voice is unmistakable, especially when she's yelling, which seems to be her default. The other voice is harder to place, but I met the guy last night, so it comes back to me pretty quickly. It's Boggs, the lieutenant who let me into Command yesterday. He seemed like a pretty alright guy to me, but Storm could argue with a fence post if she tried, so it doesn't surprise me she's picked a fight with him.

"You're not listening to me!" I hear her yell. "I'm just as tough and strong as any of them! And I probably have more battle training than you!"

Boggs is unfazed. "I highly doubt that, ma'am."

Storm continues like he hasn't said anything at all. "So why them and not me, huh? How is that fair? What do I have to do to get you to quit treating me like a child?"

"Turn eighteen," Boggs says flatly. You might have thought he was joking if not for the deadly edge to his tone. I sense that his patience with Storm is running out- something I've experienced myself, many times.

Storm seems to be running low on patience herself. She gets louder and louder with every word, and I can sense she's about to snap. Best case scenario, she embarrassed herself. Much more likely, she commits a crime.

She makes some very unsavory implications about herself and Boggs' father, and I know I have to intervene. As much as I dislike Storm and have hoped something bad would happen to her, I don't want to see her forcibly removed from the District. Knowing her, she'd find a way to take me down with her.

I peer around the corner, not willing to just dive in. It's bad. Storm is up in his face, clearly ready to turn this fight physical even though she's less than half his size. She's threatening to kill him- I need to get involved, now. I rush in and grab her arm like an anchor, preventing her from taking a swing. "Storm," I hiss, hoping she's not past the point of having sense talked into her. "What are you doing?!"

"Miss Talisman is about to be escorted to the Detention Center," Boggs informs me. I haven't heard anything about a "detention center", but if he wasn't joking before, I doubt he's joking now.

"No, he won't let me into the training grounds!" Storm corrects, fighting against my grip.

"No, we're leaving," I decide, holding fast. She's strong, but so am I. "We're leaving right now. C'mon, Storm."

She swings her head towards me and for a terrifying moment I think she's going to bite me. I know Storm is unhinged. Biting would not be a stretch for her. Fortunately, she just snarls at me like a tiger. "Let go of me! I wasn't finished!"

"Oh, you're finished," I tell her. I start tugging her away, mouthing "sorry" at Boggs as we go. Hopefully my intervention will prevent him from pressing charges.

I feel the fight drain out of Storm as we round the corner, but she's still spitting mad. That doesn't surprise me at all. I let go of her arm when we're out of hearing distance, then wonder if I might regret that decision later. There's a decent chance she'll turn her anger on me- I doubt she's grateful I pulled her out of there. I don't know if I could take Storm in a fight, and I don't really want to find out now.

"Did you really think that was going to work?" I ask, defying my initial goal of conflict resolution.

"No," she snaps. "But I had to try! I had to do something! I won't…I can't just sit there."

She's breathing so heavily she can barely get the words out. I step back from her, equal parts concerned and fascinated. I don't think I've ever seen Storm look so vulnerable. And I don't think I like it. Not to mention, the fact that we've just agreed on something…

She glares daggers at me when she notices me watching. She looks more like her usual self that way. "Quit looking at me all pity-like. It's exactly the same for you and you know it."

"Not exactly the same." For example, I have not assaulted any guards or threatened to sleep with their fathers. I guess it could happen in the future. "…but I do know how you feel."

Storm sneers at me. "Right. As if you could ever understand anything about me."

"You just said-"

"I don't care what I said!" she snarls, black hair flying. "You don't get it. Okay? It's not just the army. It's my sister. It's fucking Nolan."

I blink in confusion. I was following her until the last word. "Wait. What did Nolan do?"

Now she just looks disgusted. As if it's obvious and I should know. "Have you not seen him and that bitch? They're all over each other!"

I'm guessing she means H. I've noticed, her and Nolan have gotten close lately; I assume it's because their rebel backgrounds are fully out in the open now. There might be something romantic going on between them, but I've never considered that my business. "And that…bothers you!"

"Yes, it bothers me!" Storm shrieks. Her shrill voice echoes down the hallway, but she doesn't seem to care. "Are you blind? Just because you have your perfect boyfriend doesn't mean-"

I cut her off. "It's not perfect! It's not even close to perfect!"

For a moment, I consider telling her the truth. It's not just not perfect; it's not even real. But I realize that even in this vulnerable moment, Storm almost definitely would use that against me eventually. As it is, she rolls her eyes at me. "Oh no, sometimes you argue about who loves each other more. I don't care. The real-"

Now she cuts herself off. Footsteps. If only momentarily, we both lower our hackles until the person- an auburn-haired woman with a troubled face- passes us by. She doesn't even look at us, although I'm sure she heard our raised voices.

"…let's go back to our room," I say once she's gone.

"We're clearly getting nowhere here," Storm agrees with a glower. For once, I think that's a genuine statement and not just an attempt to get under my skin. I won't get used to it. She turns on her heel and starts walking; I'm forced to jog to keep up.

I genuinely have only the vaguest idea of where we are, but Storm seems to know exactly how to get back. I know now that she's just as messed up as I am, but her distress manifests in different ways. I wander. She lashes out. But we are both torn up and lost, fighting back in the only ways we know how.

"So…you and Nolan, huh?" I ask as soon as the door slides shut behind us.

"No," she snarls, but red blotches are forming on her cheeks. "Weren't you listening? That's the opposite of what's happening."

"I didn't think you would…" I need to choose my words carefully here if I want to survive. "…care about that sort of thing."

"I don't," she lies. Very obviously lies. Then she gets that look like she's about to hit something- probably me. "It's just annoying that he's being so stupid."

How many times have I thought that about Gale? But that's over now. That's been over for a long time.

"Men are dumb," I decide eventually.

Storm glares at me- I think she's balking at the idea of agreeing with me. When she tells me, "you don't know anything about men", I think it's more out of habit than anything else.

"Maybe I don't," I admit. I'm thinking about every mistake I made with Gale and Peeta's blue eyes. That's all I really have to go on, and I'm sure it's nothing compared to Storm's frequent trysts with Nolan, Boggs' dad apparently, and god knows who else.

I sit down next to Storm on the bed, making the cheap springs creak. She looks over at me distrustfully, pausing at her methodical picking at the blanket's hem, and I'm reminded that despite all her big talk, she is a year younger than me. When you consider her age, her upbringing, and the fact that she's even more alone than I am, it actually seems she's handling things pretty well.

"I'm sorry about Nolan," I say. I'm not sure it's the right thing to say; boy drama seems like the least of our worries right now. But the pain in her eyes is real, and strangely familiar. "…and I'm sorry about your sister."

Storm just barely cracks a smile- a real one, the kind you hardly ever see. "Yours too."

We don't say much after that, out of fear, I think this strange-but-pleasant moment will end and we'll have to shout at each other again. For the first time, I wonder if there's a chance Storm and I could be friends.

§

I reluctantly attend dinner, mainly due to Storm's pressing. I doubt she genuinely wants me there- I think she just knows I have no appetite and she'll be able to cop most of my food.

Technically, you never go hungry in District Thirteen. You are given exactly as many calories as you need to get to your next meal. As far as systems go, it's incredibly efficient. There are no overweight people in District Thirteen. There's never any food waste. But as a consumer, it's incredibly unsatisfying.

It's doesn't really bother me, since I've hardly had anything in the way of appetite anyway. But someone like Storm, who is used to large meals fit for a training Career, it is torture. Feeding her is a good way to keep the two of us getting along.

I know Peeta is pleased to see me out and about too. He gives me a weak smile as soon as I sit down; I'm concerned by how tired he looks. This can't be easy for him either. He's not as close to Rye as I am to Prim, but I know he cares about his brother and is horrified at the idea of him going into the Quell.

Storm sits on the other side of me. We are still not friends, but I suddenly get the feeling that she thinks of me as an ally, more than the others. It doesn't help that the only other available seat is next to H, who has scooted her own chair a few inches closer to Nolan's.

"Has there been any news?" asks Thunder. It's an open question but he's looking mostly at me- he knows I didn't go to school today and presumably spent most of my time watching Capitol TV.

I shrug. He's not wrong. "Nothing novel," I force myself to say. My voice comes out thick and heavy. "They go into the arena tomorrow morning. They- the only mentors left are from Two."

"Brutus and Enobaria?" Nolan guesses.

Storm and I both nod.

"They're good mentors," he says, like we should be greatly comforted by that fact. "Of course, they didn't like me much. But they didn't understand my agenda."

"They liked me," Storm puts in. "That means they'll probably like Maris."

Maris is Storm's sister. As far as I can tell, she is mini-Storm in every way.

"Maris can handle herself," I grumble. If she's anything like Storm, she'll be perfectly at home in the arena. "It's Prim I'm worried about."

"Jewel will look after her," Thunder assured me. "I know her. That's the kind of person she is."

I'm doubtful. The arena can change even the kindest of people, and I'm sure Jewel values her own life. If she has any sense, she won't look after anyone but herself.

Then again, I remember Thunder's kindness and Turquoise's insistence that Peeta and I were part of the team. I try to convince myself that that was different, but in more ways than one, it's not.

"They just have to hold on until we can end this war," Turquoise declares. As always, I'm struck by how much she sounds like a leader. She's so different from the crackhead she played in the Capitol and in the arena. "The rebels will gain the upper hand soon, and they'll be free."

She sounds so confident, but I don't know if I can believe it. I'll admit I know little about war, but I know they don't typically end overnight. Even with the massive underground resistance they've apparently built up, the rebels have a long way to go.

There's a tap on my shoulder. I jump in fright- can you blame me?- and realize it's Gale. "Back for more?" I ask dryly, remembering how our last conversation (and the one before that and the one before that…) had ended.

"I'm glad you're able to see the humor in our disagreements," Gale states. There's certainly not any humor in his voice. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure." But then he doesn't say anything until I get up. I guess we're talking in private.

There's not much available for privacy in the cafeteria. We just stand in a corner, which irritates me for some reason. "What do you want, Gale?" I ask, taking a tone that makes it clear I'm annoyed with him.

"I'm leaving tonight," he tells me. "For District Seven."

I vaguely remember him telling me something about that before. It hadn't seemed important since. "Okay."

Irritation flashes across his face. "I thought I should stop and say goodbye."

The spiteful part of me dies down. He's going into battle; there's a chance he'll never come back. If there's ever a time to push our disagreements- as severe as they might be- aside, it's now. That small, niggling voice of reason is the only thing preventing me from replying with, "alright, goodbye."

Instead, I ask him, "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," Gale admits. Something about the strained tone he uses makes me sad- more sad than I already am. "Hopefully just a few days. The fight in Seven's mostly finished. Not many Capitol loyalists in the logging industry."

"I can imagine," I agree, even though I really can't. "I wish I was going too."

There are two conflicting ideas within me. One is that I need to be as compliant as possible, because every move I make could be taken out on Prim. The other is that I must fight as hard as I can to end the war sooner. I choose to obey the latter. I can't not fight. Every moment I spend lying in wait is a moment closer to madness.

"I wish you were too." Finally, Gale's eyes soften. For the first time in weeks, he looks like the boy I grew up with again instead of a soldier. Like my hunting partner.

It's a desire to fight side by side with him just as much as it's a desire to fight for Prim. Gale and I in combat would truly be something to fear. I remember how effortlessly we banded together in the woods, and I realize the pull that drew me to him then is still there. Quieter, now. Perhaps made of barbed wire instead of silk thread. But there.

"I won't be on the front lines, anyway," Gale continues. I can tell by his tone he's not happy about that. "Can't risk anything happening to their Mockingjay. I'll be bringing up the rear."

"At least you'll be safe," I reason.

"I'd rather be fighting." He looks over his shoulder. I don't know who or what he's looking for, but he stiffens up again. "It's time."

It doesn't seem right to hug him goodbye, but I do it anyway. It's just as strained as the words we've exchanged, and I'm glad when it's over.

Gale goes one way and I go the other. I consider heading straight to my room- what little appetite I had is gone- but Peeta's eyes find me from across the cafeteria. Even from far away, I can tell he's concerned. Something about that pulls me back to the Careers' table, where Turquoise and Daphne seem to be acting something out. I don't bother to ask.

I don't linger long. "You can have this," I tell Storm, pushing my half-eaten meal over to her. Honestly, I'm surprised she didn't dig into it while I was gone. "I'm done."

"Ah, my lucky day," Storm replies, sounding almost cheerful. She starts shoveling food into her mouth.

Peeta meets my eyes across the table. As I turn to leave, he gets up and follows. "What did he say to you?" he asks once we're out of hearing range. I sense that it's out of genuine concern and not just curiosity, or worse, nosiness.

"He's leaving," I tell him. It feels better to say it out loud. "Tonight."

"To battle?"

"To battle." I kick the ground as we walk. Honestly, I'm not exactly sure where we're going. "Without me."

His lips curl into a frown. I know he sees it different than me, but he also knows me well enough to guess exactly how I feel about it. It's convenient to have someone like that in your life. It's saved me a lot of trouble so far.

"I wish we could do more," he says eventually. Even though Peeta has been more content with school and life in District Thirteen than the rest of us, I've sensed the restlessness building in him too.

"A lot more," I agree. My life has changed a hundred times in the past month. I've come to prefer battle to boredom. I'd give anything to be back in the arena now…and to keep Prim out of it. But I know there's nothing I can do about it anymore.

I suppose I should be grateful for how much I still have. My best friend has been with me every step of the way. As of right now, I know my sister is still alive. Not everyone has those luxuries. The families of those who died in the arena, wherever they are…

I shake my head to clear it. I need to sort myself out before I lose my mind completely. Searching for a tiny bit of normalcy, I reach over and ruffle Peeta's hair. It's more of a reach than it used to be- I guess he's gotten taller.

He cracks a smile and tugs the end of my braid like he's supposed to, but there's something halfhearted about it somehow. I feel the same way. No matter how much we pretend or how hard we try to push through it, there is no "normal" here. Actually, there hasn't been for a long time.

Hope you enjoy, come back for more tomorrow!