Stuck in Reverse

The farewell scenes were no more dramatic than in an average year. The girl only had her mother left. Surrounded by three younger siblings, her mother embraced her sobbingly, but without losing a word. The boy, on the other hand, still had both parents, but no siblings. Haymitch recognized the father; he was a well-known blacksmith in the District. Something about his mother's face also looked familiar to him, but he couldn't recall what it was. Or when. He didn't notice the angry glance she threw his way.

Effie Trinket was busy discussing the schedule with Petunia. Once everyone was on the train, nothing more could be changed, but everything had to happen very quickly beforehand. At least, that's what she had made clear to Haymitch in a stern tone before rejoining Petunia. However, he was always the first on the train. He didn't bother bringing luggage – the Capitol always ensured a full wardrobe. Besides, there was nothing in District 12 worth delaying his boarding for.

Thus, Haymitch, without waiting for the Capitol women or the tributes, headed straight to the car to drive to the train. The only thing he cared about was his alcohol, and there was plenty of it on board. The sole perk of the Capitol. However, since there was only one car, the driver had no choice but to wait for the rest.

So, when they finally arrived at the train, Haymitch had to push past two infuriatingly irritating Capitol citizens and two uncomfortably shuffling children to disappear into the familiar coolness of the train-car. Easier said than done. While Trinket and the dragon basked in the flashbulb frenzy, smiling and turning in all directions, Haymitch was already itching to get this year over with. So far, he had ignored the two tributes as much as possible, a standard procedure for him and one that would not change in the coming weeks.

Now, he wanted to make short work of the reporters. When a brightly dressed woman asked for his opinion on his new escort and how he assessed her future chances, he simply said, "It can only go uphill from here."

Petunia shot him a venomous look before turning back to the cameras. Not that Haymitch had any particular sympathy for Effie, but practically anyone in this country would be better suited for the escort-job. Except, perhaps, the head of the snake himself, Snow.

Somehow, the rest of the group picked up on Haymitch's pace, so that after he boarded the train, the others followed just a few seconds later. Effie gave him an appreciative look, which he only understood when her eyes subsequently fell on the clipboard in her hand and the schedule outlined on it.

Haymitch curled his lips in disdain. However, he had no opportunity to make a derogatory comment as the car doors closed behind them at that moment. Effie breathed a sigh of relief, which immediately earned her a reproachful look from Petunia. He had to suppress his schadenfreude.

As the train gently started moving beneath them, Haymitch took it as his cue to disappear. Without giving his Capitol colleagues another glance, he left them with the two tributes and headed straight for the bar.

Let another year of this nightmare begin.

oOo

Thrown off by Haymitch's wordless departure, Effie turned to Elowen and Ramon. However, remembering her next agenda item, her mouth corners curled upwards. "Come, I'll show you to your rooms."

The two tributes followed Effie in silence. Neither had spoken a word yet – neither to her nor to each other. Effie could see Elowen's frightened face in the long corridor mirrors. Ramon, on the other hand, just stared straight ahead, but Effie was sure that his inner turmoil was quite different. Coping with the aftermath of the Reaping was not easy for every tribute, as she had been informed during her training before taking up her position.

It was one of the reasons why she didn't prolong the handover of the rooms more than necessary, especially since neither of the two had shared even a spark of her enthusiasm over their spacious and luxurious quarters. Their behavior was strange and alien. Even Effie, who belonged to the upper middle class of the Capitol, could only dream of such furnishings and technology. The children accepted it as if it was nothing special – as if it wasn't worth mentioning. Yet their homes in 12 couldn't be better, considering the District's overall condition. Maybe the District residents just valued different things. She had no idea, after all, the tributes hadn't spoken to her yet.

To give the tributes time to acclimate, she soon began searching for her own mentor. She found Petunia in the lounge car, sitting at a small window table inspecting her nails.

"I imagined him differently," Effie said, unsure how else to phrase it, and sat down next to her.

Petunia didn't look up as Effie sat down opposite her. She knew immediately who was being referred to. She shook her head and pursed her lips. "Wait and see," she murmured, carefully running her right thumb over the nails of her left hand. "Where do you think he is right now, hmm?" Finally, she looked up and fixed Effie with raised eyebrows.

"In his compartment?" Effie shrugged uncertainly. She hadn't paid attention to which direction Haymitch had disappeared earlier.

"Go," Petunia encouraged with a thin, derisive smile, not looking up as she spoke. "See what he's up to, and you can call him to dinner right away."

With a nod, Effie rose from the table and hurried out of the car. She knew where the victor's quarters were; Petunia had shown her on the way to 12. She wasn't sure how to interpret Petunia's expression. She seemed almost indifferent to what happened with Haymitch. Even though Haymitch was more difficult than other victors, as an escort, she still had to account for him. Petunia herself had said it was an honorable job with ups and downs. Yet, she and Haymitch seemed to have the exact opposite of a friendly working relationship, and Effie pondered the reasons as she arrived at his door.

"Haymitch?" Effie knocked, but there was no response. The entire compartment seemed deathly still. She strained her ears, trying to hear any sound from inside his room. Only when she held her breath for a few seconds could she hear heavy footsteps. Then suddenly, silence.

She was certain that he must have heard her knocking. His ignoring her would have been scandalous in the Capitol. How rude could you be? Bracing herself for a confrontation that would test her patience and frustration, Effie contorted her mouth into a grimace. Alone in the hallway, no one could see her, so no one could reprimand her. Then she knocked again. "Haymitch, I know you're in there."

"Get lost," Effie heard him call out, but his voice sounded oddly distorted.

She paused, allowing the indignation that boiled in her veins at his response to ebb away. For a moment, she stood still, quietly counting to thirty in her head. When there was still no answer, she bit her teeth together in irritation. In the privacy of solitude, she allowed herself to lean against the opposite wall. With the wig on her head, it was difficult to find a position that didn't strain her neck.

"It's not very polite to speak to a lady in such a manner through a closed door," Effie finally remarked, feeling incredibly foolish for addressing an empty hallway. Moreover, her gut feeling told her that her equally empty words would not interest Haymitch Abernathy. If she had learned anything in the short time since they met, it was that he had no regard for social norms.

"I'm not talking to you, you're talking to me, and if you don't like it, you can fuck off," he shouted back a moment later, causing Effie to startle in surprise. This had to be about her. It simply couldn't be that this was his usual behavior. Nobody would act like this without provocation, not even Haymitch Abernathy.

"I apologize if we caught on the wrong foot, but I think it's best if we postpone this conversation to dinner," Effie quickly conceded and turned on her heel to escape from his compartment.

Whatever it was that agitated him so much about her, this was not the place to resolve it. Despite everything, she couldn't believe how he had treated her. Even in the face of conflict, it was everyone's duty to set aside their emotions and communicate on a factual level. Where would the world end up otherwise? Petunia was right; this man really had no manners …

Therefore, Effie didn't bother to understand what the victor hurled at her next. She had already left his compartment.

oOo

As soon as Haymitch had brought the bottle to his lips, he had known he wouldn't make it to dinner. He didn't care. Nor did he care when Effie Trinket suddenly knocked at his door, wanting to discuss something with him. He brushed her off, having no desire to talk about strategies that would be futile anyway since the two tributes wouldn't get past the Cornucopia.

Haymitch couldn't understand this woman. How could she not know? She must have watched the Games every year, right? So she should have had an inkling of how it always ended for the tributes from District 12. Or was she so fixated on her favorites that she no longer perceived the expendable deaths at the Cornucopia, which had become routine, as such? Like an anthem recited so often that its individual words eventually lost their meaning.

What Haymitch found even worse were those feigned apologies Capitols constantly threw at you. Apologies without any genuine reason, always for the most trivial situations, while the truly relevant apologies were never spoken or even considered. The Capitols lived in a world obsessed with details, where the bigger picture had been lost long ago. He didn't need their contrived politeness, which they hoped would placate him. He needed an end to this horror they didn't even recognize as such.

When he didn't show up for dinner, Effie paid him another visit, but again without much success. She wasn't strong enough to change anything in him. Next to Petunia, who was like a huge, raging storm, she was just a weak wind, occasionally sweeping through the land. Or the calm before the storm.

Because just five minutes later, Effie returned with Petunia. Over the years, she had developed several tricks up her sleeve. Much to his chagrin, because if done correctly, an escort could make a victor's life difficult. And now, the dragon was showing her one of these tricks in her very first year. Effie gazed at Petunia like she was a saint when she only needed one sentence to get Haymitch out of his room.

He shot them a murderous look as he staggered past them towards the door.

"You're acting more hurt than you really are," Petunia added, as self-satisfied and arrogant as ever. If she continued like this, Trinket might turn into a copy of her before the end of the season.

oOo

The children were already sitting silently at the elongated dining table, not even deigning to glance at each other. Their faces were forlorn, staring emotionlessly straight ahead, without even touching the curious dishes in front of them.

Haymitch sighed when he saw them, noting their lack of cooperation. Stubborn. A folly that would cost them their lives.

Their gaze lifted at his sigh. Their eyes fixed on Haymitch as he entered the compartment with a grim face, closely followed by Petunia and Effie. With another sigh, he slumped into one of the chairs opposite them. The two women silently took their seats, Effie to his right and Petunia at the head of the table. Enclosed among all these pitiable people. This year was really not going well for him …

While Haymitch ignored the various greedy and disdainful looks directed at him, he grabbed the first thing he saw on the table. If he had to be here, he certainly wasn't going to let the others' misery affect him. Petunia's attention seemed to scrutinize him particularly intensely, but he was used to that. He suppressed the urge to make a vulgar gesture in her direction. Standing up to Petunia's stupid psychological tricks gave him a sense of superiority. Every time she managed to get under his skin, he felt even more miserable afterward than usual.

Lowering his head, Haymitch realized he had scooped up some steak and an unidentifiable side dish onto his golden plate, which sent an incredible aroma to his nose. Then, he snatched the wine bottle from Effie Trinket's hand, who shot him a startled look before her eyes narrowed. Instead of saying anything, he began to eat silently, grinning inwardly at her indignation. Occasionally, the exaggerated reactions of the Capitols were amusing.

The dinner dragged on. Hardly anyone spoke. Only Petunia and Effie chatted about this and that. And he was stuck sitting between them, forcing them to talk over him. Haymitch pretended not to notice Effie's sidelong glances. He didn't understand her problem. What had she expected? A shining victor who conformed to what seemed progressive and acceptable in the Capitol? What on earth had Petunia told her? Or what hadn't she told her?

He certainly wouldn't treat Effie Trinket any differently than other people from the Capitol. She didn't have a special status. She was just as bad as the rest of them. She had chosen this job as an escort and would now have to live with the consequences of his indifference. Still, that didn't seem punishment enough for her complicity in the Hunger Games. There was no punishment that would ever be enough ...

"So that's it, huh?" it suddenly came from the male tribute, interrupting Petunia in the middle of some story. She looked at him indignantly, but the boy paid her no heed. Haymitch might have found the whole thing amusing if his gaze hadn't been exclusively on him, who was just pouring himself a second glass.

Haymitch raised his eyebrows quizzically, without looking at him. "Got a problem?"

"You bet I have a problem," the boy hissed angrily, letting his fork drop. The girl threw him an uncertain glance. "I was aware you were nothing more than a drunk, Abernathy, but–"

"Raymond, right?" Haymitch interrupted. His voice was not loud yet seemed to fill the entire room.

Petunia stopped eating, and Effie snorted in exasperation. "Ramon, Haymitch," she said through clenched teeth, and the fire in her irises was murderous. The fact that he hadn't remembered the names of his tributes seemed to be a personal affront to her. Of course. The Capitol always played the victim.

Haymitch, who had long stopped bothering to remember any names, merely shrugged indifferently and leaned over the table. "Ramon. I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you. Think about it: You, alone in the arena. Hot, your throat dry as sandpaper, dying of thirst, but no water in sight. Who do you think can help you in a situation like that?"

Ramon's face darkened instantly, and he opened his mouth as if about to retort, but Haymitch continued. He was too drunk to care about the feelings of this kid. "Me, you nuisance. Me, Haymitch Abernathy. The mentor of District Twelve. You want to survive? Then shut up, don't get on my nerves, and stay out of my drinking business."

Haymitch hadn't actually expected Ramon to respond. The intimidation tactic usually worked even on the most obtrusive tributes. Not today. "Sure, we all saw how well that worked out for my brother."

The ensuing silence was surprising for both parties. Haymitch stared at Ramon, and Ramon stared back fearlessly. An unpleasant feeling settled in his alcohol-laden stomach. Effie was the first to break the rigidity. "I don't think we–"

"Nobody asked you, Capitol scum," Ramon hissed, silencing her with his simple, hostile stare. It was unmistakable how little respect he held for the Capitol.

Haymitch felt the anger boiling within him, seeing where this was heading. And the fact that he had already consumed a fair amount of liquor didn't help matters. With lips pressed together, he leaned back in his chair and silently observed the boy. "Your brother?"

"The twelve-year-old from last year."

"He wouldn't have made it anyway," Haymitch muttered, yet surprised that he couldn't remember the boy at all. He had almost no recollection of last year's Games. When he sifted through his mind ... there was no clear image.

Over the years, the Games had merged into a jumble of individual, shining out moments. The years after his victory were as blurred as all the memories of the time before – his family, his girl, the life he had led before. Because that was the only thing Haymitch was good at: drinking so much he forgot.

To his shame, he couldn't even recall when and how the boy from last year had died – as if he had never existed. That's why Ramon's mother had looked at him with such disdain earlier. A part of him suffered under this oppressive feeling, dulled only by alcohol. It tore him apart that he couldn't help any of the children – he felt guilty towards Ramon and the girl too. But he just wasn't capable of helping them. He couldn't. It would destroy him. It would only be a matter of time before he somehow managed to take his own life. That's why he stayed out of it. Because he was a selfish coward.

"Believe me, Abernathy, I'm well aware that I can't count on you, but I'll make sure you remember this Games," Ramon said, as if he had read his thoughts. The anger in his voice was unmistakable as he stood up and turned to Effie and Petunia. "You too." Then he turned on his heel and disappeared through the compartment door.

For a moment, there was silence before Effie spoke up with an uncertain smile. "We'll get through this. It's probably just an empty threat. He's just got a lot to process right now," she said, looking towards Petunia, who nodded absently.

Throughout the rest of the meal, Haymitch remained silent. Every attempt by Effie to start a conversation with him and the girl failed. Shortly thereafter, they all sat together in front of the TV, watching the Reaping replays in silence. Everything inside him screamed to get up and leave, but Petunia's latest threat still hung over his head. And so, he was left without options.

"The tributes from One to Four are strong," Petunia remarked resignedly. Effie unknowingly bit her lower lip, and the female tribute, whose name Haymitch also didn't know, fiddled with her fingers to avoid looking at the screen. For a thirteen-year-old, she was holding up relatively well, he noticed. Not that it would make any difference.

There were two volunteers from District 1, well-nourished and well-built, just like in 2 and 4. Even 3 had a decent showing this year.

Then came District 12. Effie immediately started chattering, bombarding Petunia with questions about how she had done. Petunia assured her half-heartedly that she had presented herself really well for her first time. Of course, that was all that mattered, all that was relevant. Did they even notice the disturbed looks of the girl, who was now reliving her worst nightmare all over again?

Haymitch sighed, stood up, and left without another word. He wouldn't put himself through this charade any longer. Let Petunia follow through with her threats. And if so, he somehow always found a way to get liquor. Otherwise, he'd just camp out on Chaff's floor for the entire season.

oOo

Effie knew that District 12 would have a hard time facing the strong tributes from the first four Districts, but she hadn't given up hope. After all, it was up to her and Haymitch to turn the tide once the two tributes were in the arena. And she could even say that Ramon might survive the Cornucopia. He was smart, no doubt, she had seen that in the way he had looked at Haymitch – calculatingly.

Effie stood up. "Shall I walk you to your room?" she asked Elowen. Of course, she had to treat both tributes equally. And who could say that the young girl didn't have something special in her as well? Although her appearance was quite innocent. She was a sweet girl.

Elowen nodded and followed Effie. "Will we have a strategy?" she suddenly asked, as the door to the dining room closed behind them. It was the first time Elowen had addressed her directly without being asked a question first. Effie looked at her in surprise. "I mean, we have to have some kind of plan, right? Ramon is big and strong and doesn't care much, but I could benefit more from it," she added quietly.

Effie tilted her head slightly to the left and then nodded with a gentle smile on her lips. "Don't worry, dear, we will come up with something for you too." It wasn't a lie. She wouldn't let either of the tributes down. No one deserved that. Bringing out the best in them was exactly her task, one that Effie took very seriously.

Elowen stopped in front of her room's door and looked at Effie with her deep green eyes, more skeptical than someone her age should be. "But without Haymitch, we can't do it. He knows his way around. He knows what matters."

"I'll convince him," Effie said, tucking a loose blonde strand of hair behind Elowen's ear. It was a gesture her own mother had used to make, which had always annoyed her as a child. Now, finding herself in the reverse role, it felt more caring than she had perceived it back then. More caring than Effie had intended. She had been about to make a friendly, yet firm comment to Elowen about paying more attention to her hair. Suddenly it seemed inappropriate ...

Elowen flinched imperceptibly from Effie's touch, triggering a completely different emotion in her. Surprise. Hurt. Shame? Was the girl afraid of her? Why? There was no reason ... Her large, round eyes almost seemed to see through Effie.

"Promise?" For someone so young, she was incredibly mature and serious, much more than Effie had been at that age.

At the same time, Effie was aware that keeping this promise would be extremely difficult. Nearly impossible. Haymitch appeared to be a very difficult person and had shown no interest in the tributes or the Games so far, despite it being his duty.

Yet, Effie couldn't deny the child this promise. After all, it was her own duty to help the tributes as best as she could, regardless of what Haymitch had in mind. And Elowen deserved it. She was kind, lovable, and had asked politely for help. Therefore, Effie's answer was clear.

"I promise."


Is Effie getting attached? Or is she just fulfilling her escort-duties? What do you think about this chapter? A comment would make my day a lot better! :)

See you next week

Skyllen