Caesar reaches out to touch Katniss' headpiece. The whites has burned away, leaving a smooth, fitted veil of black that drapes into the neckline of the dress in the back. "Feathers," says Caesar. "You're like a bird."
"A mockingjay, I think," she says, giving her wings a small falp. "It's a bird on the pin I wear as a token."
A shadow of recognition flickers across Caesar's face, and I can tell he knows that the mockingjay isn't just her token. That it's come to symbolize so much more. That what will be seen as a flashy costume change in the Capitol is resonating in an entirely different way throughout the districts. But he makes the best of it.
"Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!" Caesar gestures for Cinna to rise. He does, and makes a small, gracious bow.
The audience who's been stunned into silence, breaks into wild applause. I can barely hear the buzzer that indicates that her three minutes are up. Caesar thanks her and she goes back ot her seat.
Peeta makes his way to the stage and Caesar greets him. They have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta's confession of love for Katniss, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes and fired and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that's on everyone's mind.
"So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you've been through, you found out about the Quell?" asks Caesar.
"I was in shock. I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next... " Peeta trails off.
"You realized there was never going to be a wedding?" asks Caesar gently.
Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at the floor, then finally up at Caesar. "Caesar, do you think all our friends here tonight can keep a secret?"
An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching.
"I feel quite certain of it," says Caesar.
"We're already married," says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I turn my head over to Katniss who buries her face in the folds of her skirt.
"But... how can that be?" asks Caesar.
"Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in the other distrcts. But there's this thing we do," says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting.
"Were your families there?" asks Caesar.
"No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn't be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it," Peeta says. "And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.
"So this was before the Quell?" says Caesar.
"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew," says Peeta, starting to get upset. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere — I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?"
"You couldn't, Peeta." Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."
Enormous applause. As if encouraged, Katniss looks up from her feathers and let the audience see the tragic smile of her thanks. The residual smoke from the feather has made her eyes teary, which adds a very nice touch.
"I'm not glad," says Peeta. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."
This takes even Caesar aback. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"
"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Peeta bitterly, "If it weren't for the baby."
There. He's done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tributes who came before him. Well, mabye not. Maybe this year he has only lit a fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. I find myself gasping in shock, not sure to believe it or not. I know all these victors are angry and will say just about anything to get the Games cancelled and I'm not sure if Peeta is telling the truth. I had figured from the last Games that the romance was an act so that they will stay alive. Maybe this is another part of the act, or maybe they actually fell in love.
As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthristy person out there can't ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is.
Katniss is pregnant.
The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help.
Caesar can't rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his good-bye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar's lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can't hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Nolan reaching out for me.
I turn spontaneously to Johanna and offer my hand. I feel my fingers close around her hand. And then it happens. Up and down the row, the victors begin to join hands. Some right away, like the morphlings, or Wiress and Beetee. Others unsure but caught up in the demands of those around them, like Brutus and Enobaria. By the time the anthem plays its final strains, all twenty four of us stand in one unbroken line in what must be the first public show of unity amont the distrcts since the Dark Days. You can see the realization of this as the screens begin to pop into blackness. It's too late, though. In the confusion they didn't cut us off in time. Everyone has seen.
There's disorder on the stage now, too, as the lights go out and we're left to stumble back into the Training Center. I've lost hold of Johanna, but Nolan guides me into the elevator. Finnick trys to joins us, but a hurried Peackeeper blocks his way and we shoot upwards alone.
The moment we step off the elevator, I worry about Finnick. I professed my love for him, although I didn't actually say his name. I wonder if he knows and if that was why he tried to get in the elevator with me. I'm afraid to tell him, but I don't want to die in that arena without him knowing.
Somewhere, very far off, is a place called Distrct 9, where the people will have to deal with the fallout from this night. Just a brief hovercraft ride away is an arena where, tomorrow, Nolan and I and the other other tributes will face our own form of punishment. But even if all of us meet terrible ends, something happened on that stage that can't be undone. We victors staged out own uprising, and maybe, just maybe, the Captiol won't be able to contain this one.
We wait for the others to return, but when the elevator opens, only Willow appears. "It's madness out there. Everyone's been sent home and they've canceled the recap of the interviews on television."
I hurry to the window and try to make sense of the commontion far below us in the streets. "What are they saying? I ask. "Are they asking the president to stop the Games?"
"I don't think they know themselves what to ask. The whole situation is unpreprecedented. Even the idea of opposing the Captiol's agenda is a source of confusion for the people here," says Willow. "But there's no way Snow would cancel the Games. You know that, right?"
I do. Of course, he could never back down now. The only option left to his is to strike back, and strike back hard. "The others went home?" I ask.
"They were ordered to. I don't know how much luck they're having getting through this mob," says Willow.
"Then we'll never see Mica again," says Nolan. We don't see her the moring of the Games when we mentor. "You'll give her our thanks."
"More than that. Really make it special. It's Mica, after all," I say. "Tell her how appreciative we are and how she was the best escort ever and tell her ... Tell her we send our love."
For a while we just stand there in silence, delaying the inevitable. Then Willow says it. "I guess this is where we say our good-byes as well."
I turn to Nolan who has tears building up in his eyes, "Good-bye my friend. Thank you for always being there for me."
I wrap my arms around Willow, "Thank you, for taking care of me after my mom died. Thank you for filling her spot and becoming a mother when I needed one. I love you." I say before a tear falls down my face. I turn to Nolan as well, "Thank you for being there for me as well, I love you too."
He pulls the three of us in for a group hug as we all cry together for a few moments. None of us want to pull away, because if we do then we know there's no going back. We know at least one of us won't make it, but none of us want to admit that. We have become a family, the three of us, and now they are trying to tear it apart.