Plutarch disappears and I wander around looking for Sawyer. I thought the alcohol would have worn off over time but it seems to have amplified, and I feel myself swaying through the crowd, giving smiles and short greetings, all while the encounter with Plutarch runs through my head. Why would he show me the watch, but not want to flaunt it? Everyone else seems to want to show off the token, and yet he seems secretive about it. Maybe he just doesn't want anyone to steal his idea of a disappearing mockingjay. Yes. That must be it.
I find Sawyer admiring a table of beautiful decorated cakes. How had I not noticed them before? They are extremely intricate, although I think I prefer my father's designs. I think Sawyer would be great at decorating cakes from what I've seen with him helping out Dad. Maybe we'll try it once we're back home. The bakers are tripping over each other trying to answer his questions and at his request, assemble a small box of samples so he can try to recreate them at home. They even offer me one to take home and I know Dad will be pleased. Sawyer's so excited about it that it makes me excited for him too.
"Effie said we have to be on the train at one. I wonder what time it is," he says, glancing around.
"Almost midnight," I reply. I pluck an edible flower from the table and bring it to my mouth, not caring about manners anymore.
He nods, turning to me. People seemed to have gotten their fill of us and are now mostly congregated on the dance floor, giving us a little moment of peace. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"
Instead of a response, I lean up to kiss him. I could say it's because we're in public, because I know people are watching, but I don't know. I feel bolder than usual, probably the champagne, and push myself closer opening my lips to match his movements. And then a thought comes to mind and I have to pull back, giggling.
"What?" Sawyer asked, clearly amused.
I blink a couple of times before answering. "You taste like chocolate."
Sawyer throws his head back letting out a loud laugh. "And I think you're a little intoxicated. Let's get you to bed."
"Time to say thank you and farewell!" trills Effie at my elbow. It's one of those moments I'm grateful for her compulsive punctuality.
"Should we thank the president?" Sawyer asks.
"He's not one for parties," Effie says. "But I've already arranged for the appropriate notes and gifts to be sent to him tomorrow. Now where is that mentor of yours?"
"Do you think you can find him?" Sawyer asks. "I don't think she can stand being on her feet much longer."
"Mmmhm," I say, suddenly feeling very sleepy. The adrenaline from the night is wearing off, especially now that I know President Snow isn't here. I lean against Sawyer ready to close my eyes.
"Ah, there he is!" Effie says. Two Capitol attendants approach, carrying a very inebriated Haymitch.
Effie has this all down to a science so we're put into cars and then hustled onto the train so that it's pulling out of the station at exactly one. Haymitch is deposited in his room but Cinna makes us all some tea and we all take seats around the table while Effie prattles on about our schedule and how we're still on tour. Despite her high pitched voice, I'm being lulled to sleep, laying my head on Sawyer's shoulder.
"There's the Harvest Festival still to think about," Effie says. "So I suggest we all drink our tea and head straight to bed. Our own beds." She gives Sawyer and I a pointed look.
"No thank you, Effie," I say, taking the last sip of my tea. I stumble up and drag Sawyer along with me to my room. "Good night everyone."
We go about our nightime routines, each taking turns in the bathroom. When I come out, Sawyer is removing his prosthetic leg and rubbing the ointment on. He hasn't hesitated to do so the last couple of nights, and that makes me happy that he feels like he can trust me.
"That looks better," I say. I don't even really think about it before plopping myself right down on his lap.
"Thank you for the ointment," he says, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"You're welcome. Oh! I never told you that you looked pretty today too," I say, leaning back against him.
"Yup, you've definitely had way too much to drink," he says. "And it was your first time so according to Cinna you're going to have a rough time tomorrow morning."
"Why?" I ask yawning. "You'll be there, right?"
"Always," he says.
"Then I'll be fine," I tell him.
He easily lifts me and places me next to him on the bed. Since we've won the games and not had to worry about being well fed, Sawyers gained a good amount of muscle and looked much healthier. A welcome change from how he was prior. I know I did too, and some of the curves I had been missing were filling out. Not much, but neither of us looked starving anymore. We lay with Sawyer's arm under my head and my arm draped across his chest, much like we did in the cave, and it's not long before I'm drifting off to sleep.
When I wake up, I don't remember much from the previous night. The room is much too bright, and my head is pounding. I try to open my eyes but I'm hit with a wave of pain and I cringe into my pillow. Or, I guess, Sawyer.
"How are you feeling?" he asks. Did I wake him? No, he must have already been awake. He's an early riser too.
I try to respond but the only thing that comes out is short whimpers. My throat feels dry.
"I thought you might not be feeling great. I don't know how Haymitch does it all the time," he then starts to shift but I refuse to move. "Come on, Mellark. I'll get you some water, okay?"
The mention of water is the only thing that makes me lean back enough that he can slip out of bed. Once I hear him leave, I try to sit up, holding my hands over my eyes to keep the light out. Slowly, I spread my fingers until I'm able to open my eyes. It still hurts but it's manageable.
Sawyer comes back in and I pull my knees up to rest my head, sitting against the headboard. He joins me and puts something against my lips.
"Here, take this. Effie says it helps with your head," he says. I open and he slips in a pill, then helps me drink some water to swallow it down. "It should kick in in about fifteen minutes."
"Okay," I say, turning into Sawyer. We should still have a few hours until we get back to Twelve where it will certainly be snowing, which makes me not want to leave this warm bed even more.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him. "You must have slept well."
"What do you mean?"
"No nightmares. And you were smiling in your sleep. You looked happy," he says.
"Oh. It was just a dream," I say. The pill is kicking in and I'm feeling infinitely better already. Enough to open my eyes and look up at Sawyer. "I was in the woods, following a mockingjay. But it was El, really. Every time it sang it was her voice."
"Where did she take you?" he asks, brushing my hair off my forehead.
"I don't know. We never arrived," I say. "But I felt happy."
We lay there for a few more minutes. I know we'll have to start getting ready soon. We're almost home.
Once we arrive in District Twelve, most of the prep occurs in the mayor's house, which is actually also where Aunt Madge and Uncle Graham live, so it's almost like being home. Uncle Graham keeps checking in to give Sawyer stink-eyes saying that if Dad can't be here to do it, he has to. Aunt Madge brings in some pastries she clearly got from the bakery. It's nice to have familiar faces, and the confirmation that all of my family is okay gives me all the relief in the world. After I'm prepped and dressed in a silver gown, I've still got an hour to kill so I go to see if I can find one of my family members.
On my way down, I see the door to the mayors study is open. I pop my head in to say hello to Aunt Madge's father but it's empty. The television is on though and I stop to watch a recap of last night's party, with flashes of Sawyer and I being celebrated.
I'm about to leave when the television beeps. I turn back to see words flashing "UPDATE ON DISTRICT EIGHT" on the screen. Instinctively, I know this isn't for my eyes but something intended only for the mayor. I should go. Quickly. Instead I find myself stepping closer to the television.
An announcer I've never seen before appears, announcing that conditions are worsening and a Level 3 alert has been called. Production has ceased and they're sending additional forces.
They cut away from the woman to the main square in District 8. I recognize it because I was only there last week. There are still banners with my face waving from the rooftops. Below that is a mob scene. The square's packed with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and homemade masks, throwing bricks. Buildings burn. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd, killing at random.
I've never seen anything like it but I can only be witnessing one thing. This is what President Snow calls an uprising.
I feel someone step up behind me. "Willow?"
I turn to face the boy I risked the country for. "Sawyer, what did we do?"
He rips himself from the screen, grabbing my elbow and roughly pulling me out of the room. "We shouldn't be watching this," he says. "We didn't see anything."
"But Sawyer-"
"Willow!" His voice is harsh and I flinch. "We didn't see anything. Got it?"
"Yeah. I got it," I say. This is serious, and Sawyer's out of character reaction proves it.
But of course he immediately softens. "It's not our fault."
No, I think, Just mine.