74th - part 1
katniss’s pov
I never fully get the feeling of coming home, just little snippets. Part of me is still in the arena and may never leave. But I feel better seeing Prim again, going back out to the woods, putting on my father’s old jacket. My favorite moment is the first Parcel Day, where all the families in the district are given packages from the Capitol, including more food than anyone can eat. For a moment, I feel glad that I won the Games, but my thoughts turn to Peeta and how he would’ve loved to see this with me.
I think what bothers me the most is the fact that I know my life will never be the same again. It’s especially obvious in the way that a distance has formed between me and Gale. My best friend hardly speaks to me, and when he does, it feels like he’s holding something back. Maybe we both are. I stuck him with the burden of protecting my family and almost losing me, and in a way, he did lose me. I’m not the same person and he’ll never get that person back.
Meanwhile, I lost someone who I didn’t know I had to lose. I can’t walk by the bakery without feeling an ache in my chest, so I take the long way through the district whenever I go to the Hob. And since Haymitch and I are the only occupants of the Victor’s Village, I can’t help but constantly feel Peeta’s absence. I think of him everywhere. I see him in my nightmares. It’s like he won’t leave me alone.
The nightmares. Every night, I return to the arena and wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, thrashing in my bed. Sometimes I wake up Prim, who comes rushing into my room to comfort me. But most of the time, I’m alone. There’s nothing to do but try to fall asleep again, but I’m terrified of what it’ll bring and now I’m exhausted every damn day.
Regardless, I hunt. It keeps me sane and provides game for Gale’s family, so I spend most days in the forest, alone. Gale works in the mines now. I try to tell myself that it’s necessary, that he’s earning enough to keep his siblings off tesserae, but it scares the shit out of me. I get to see him on Sundays. It’s almost like it used to be, despite everything.
One day before the Victory Tour, he kisses me. It happens too quickly for me to prepare or process. “I had to do that. At least once,” he tells me, then we walk to his house without saying anything else. The whole way I think about his lips, how his hands held me in place, the way I didn’t see it coming. I thought after so many hunts together that I could read him perfectly, see his movements before they happened, and know his thoughts like my own. But the kiss changes everything I thought I knew about Gale. About us.
He never brings it up again after that night. I don’t either. I guess we’re back to being friends.
And even though I’m trying to ignore it, the kiss with Gale filled me with guilt. Not so much for Peeta, because I’ll never know how much he meant what he said about me and how much of it was just for the Games. But for someone else.
Right before I left for the Games, Madge came to say goodbye to me, gave me the Mockingjay pin, and kissed me. On the lips. As if she were a boy. I actually kissed her back, and I won’t deny that I liked it. It felt realer than any of my kisses with Peeta and although I had never thought about kissing Madge (or kissing any girl), it felt more natural than the kiss with Gale. Like it was something I’d wanted unknowingly.
I dismissed the whole thing afterwards to focus on surviving and eventually faking my love for Peeta. When I came back to District 12, I was too busy to see Madge for the first few weeks. And maybe I should’ve seen her afterwards, but something held me back. It’s been months now and I still haven’t talked to her, only smiled at her when I pass her on the street. I feel so guilty for it, but I just don’t know how to handle this.
I know of several men and women who married each other as a facade. Pretty much the whole district knows, including the Peacekeepers, but no one gives them trouble because technically it’s allowed. As long as a man and a woman marry and have at least two children or prove infertility, the Capitol lets them slide and they’re free to have a real love on the side. So it’s not that I couldn’t have a future with Madge, but…it wouldn’t look like a future with Gale. Plus, as a victor and the daughter of the mayor, we’d attract too much Capitol attention.
So I continue my life as usual and don’t think too much about kissing anyone. I keep my head down, hunt, stumble through the Victory tour, return home and go back to keeping my head down and hunting.
It’s a normal day when I come in after hunting and suddenly my mother greets me at the door. This is odd. She never does this. “Did you have a good walk, dear?” she says, her voice higher than usual.
“Walk?” I’ve been in the woods and she knows this. But I notice the large figure of a man standing outside the door of the study room. He’s wearing an official-looking uniform and looks too well fed to be from District 12. “It was more like skating, with all the ice out there.”
“You have a visitor,” my mother replies.
I don’t know who to expect when I walk into the study, but I recognize his presence immediately by the stench of roses. His eyes meet mine and he smirks from behind the desk, gesturing at the seat across from him. It’s as if I’m the guest in his home. I guess I sort of am.
“I think we can make this whole conversation proceed much smoother if we agree not to lie to each other,” Snow says carefully, sizing me up with his snakelike gaze. “What do you think?”
“Yes,” I say. I sound more calm than I feel, thankfully. I don’t want him to know how easily his presence can get to me. “That would save time.”
He smiles. “My advisors warned me that you might be difficult. But you’re not planning to cause trouble, are you?”
“No.”
“I thought as much. I doubted that any girl who protected her life with such dedication in the Games would throw it away so carelessly. Not to mention your family. Your mother, your sister, all those,” he smiles again as he adds, “ cousins .”
Clearly he sees through the narrative that Haymitch recommended. Before we returned to District 12, Haymitch insisted that I should pretend to be cousins with Gale, in order to avoid detracting from my lost romance with Peeta. In his opinion, seeing me with Gale would make everyone question how I could move on so quickly from the boy I almost died for.
“I have a problem, Miss Everdeen,” he continues. “A problem that began the moment you pulled those berries out in the arena.”
Haymitch warned me about this too. I knew Snow was mad, but I didn’t expect him to come and talk to me here. It must be getting worse.
“You did a decent job with the lovesick act afterwards. The people of the Capitol were utterly convinced. But, unfortunately, not everyone in the districts fell for it. Some viewed it as an act of defiance, not love. And if a girl from District 12 of all places can defy the Capitol so publicly and be lauded as a victor, what is to prevent others from doing the same? What is to prevent…an uprising?”
“There’ve been uprisings?” I blurt.
“Not yet. But you’ve seen firsthand the growing nerve of some radicals on your Victory Tour. You would not believe the things that I have seen since,” says Snow, holding his head high so that his chin juts out toward me.
“I didn’t mean to start anything.”
“I believe you. It doesn't matter. You’ve provided a spark that, if left unattended, could engulf the nation in flames. Rather ironic, given your stylist’s choice in attire.”
“Just tell me what to do and I'll do it,” I plead. “I promise.”
He smirks. “If only it were that easy. Given the untimely death of your better half, I’m afraid it will be difficult to rectify this situation by simply selling a more convincing love story. But you must try. You did a fair job on your tour, but you’re a mentor now, Miss Everdeen. Do not make the mistake of believing your time in the spotlight has faded.”
Of course not. I knew this already. Every year, they drag Haymitch onto the stage at the reaping, show him off no matter how drunk he is. They make us watch updates on some of the “fan favorite” victors when the action in the arena gets dull. No matter how old someone is, they’re always a victor. It’s inescapable.
“I’ll fix it. I’ll convince everyone that it wasn’t rebellious. That I was driven mad with love.”
“That you are .” Is he suggesting I should pretend I’ve gone crazy? Some victors do. But the Capitol tries to hide them from the cameras, only showing them when necessary. That can't be what he wants if his goal is for the districts to see me. “After all,” he says, “you’re mourning. Loss is just as powerful as love. And losing the people you love…well, my dear, I would suggest avoiding that at all costs.”
I don’t say anything. He gets to his feet and walks around the desk.
“Do convince them. For the sake of your loved ones.”
“I will,” I tell him firmly.
“Aim higher. Convince me.”
Everything in the Capitol reeks of my own Games. I thought 12 was bad enough with the ghost of Peeta, but it was nothing compared to stepping back into the tribute center as a mentor. No matter how much I try to stay grounded, I see the ghosts everywhere I look. Tonight, they’re wearing their tribute parade outfits. I can see Rue in her dress. Cato and Clove. Peeta on fire.
The invisible smoke threatens to choke me and I feel a hand on my shoulder.
Cinna looks concerned as he searches my face and whispers, “You don’t have to stay here, you know. You can go back upstairs now.”
Shaking my head, I break his eye contact. “No, they need me.” My tributes are two 15 year olds, Santhe and Cole, who have about as much chance of winning as I do of seeing Peeta again. Thankfully, Haymitch isn’t drunk yet, but I still don’t feel right abandoning them with just him.
“I’ll stay with them,” Cinna assures me. “Go, I know this is too hard for you.”
A rush of relief seizes me as I hug him and mutter my thanks, then beeline for the elevator. Our rooms aren’t any less haunted, but at least there I can be alone, without the feeling of eyes constantly watching my every move. I punch the elevator button and wait for it to close.
Something must be out to get me, because a woman walks in and I still can’t be alone. She’s smaller than me, with black hair and fiery red highlights that sway in the air as she steps inside the elevator. I try not to show my aggravation, but a frustrated sigh sneaks out of me as I recognize her: Johanna Mason, District 7.
She must recognize me too, because a small smirk forms on her face. “The Girl on Fire,” she chirps, glancing up and down at me. “Nice to finally meet you.” She takes a step closer to me and suddenly I can smell pine wood.
Johanna Mason won her Games by playing the innocent angle. She was shy, hardly spoke in her interview, and earned a laughable rating in the assessment. No one dared to bet on her until she made it several days into the Games, and even then she was still overlooked in favor of a burly boy from District 2 who would’ve been the obvious winner. It was at that point that Johanna Mason changed her angle, revealing an unmatched skill when it came to wielding axes and a vicious thirst to kill.
Eager to increase my distance from this woman, I lean back against the wall of the elevator and accidentally meet her eyes. There’s a predatory look in them, and it suddenly dawns on me that this meeting was not by chance. “What do you want?” I demand. I don’t have the energy to beat around the bush right now.
“To introduce myself,” she replies with a false air of sweetness. “Jesus, don’t they teach you manners in District 12?”
“Nope. Apparently we’re all savages who eat with our hands,” I answer, echoing Effie’s complaints from our first meeting last year.
The other victor chuckles at this, then dons a sneaky smile that makes my stomach churn for some reason. “The best way, in my opinion,” she murmurs, winking at me. Out of nowhere, she starts ripping the decorative pieces from her hair and tossing them to the floor, where they clatter near my feet. “I wanted to say that your stylist is a genius. Ours has been dressing tributes as trees for decades, so it’s nice to see that at least someone in this hellhole has a brain.”
“Cinna’s brilliant,” I say, not sure what else to offer.
“I heard he’s training you.”
“He’s trying to, at least.”
Johanna scoffs and glares at me. “Guess two geniuses would be a crowd.” I’m trying not to take offense to that when she grins again and says, “That’s too bad about your boyfriend, by the way. But I guess that makes you single, so what’s your plan now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?”
The bluntness of this question catches me completely off guard. “I don’t think the whole world—”
“Oh, don’t try to deny it,” she snorts. Spinning around so that her back is facing me, Johanna steps backward, removing what little space there was between us. I can smell her shampoo. Lavender. “Unzip me?”
This is uncomfortable. It’s not that I’m scared of Johanna Mason, but I’m scared of where this might be going and I really just want to get to my room. Glancing up at the numbers, I notice we’re only a quarter of the way there. Shit.
I’m trying to decide what to do when she scoffs again. “Come on, help a girl out,” she says, pulling her hair out of the way. With no other choice in sight, I force my fingers to undo the top of her zipper enough so that she can reach it and she turns around again.
Staring at Johanna, I try not to back down from her eye contact as she strips, but soon enough it’s not even safe to look at her face. I can see the outline of her figure through the corner of my eye no matter where I look, seeing as the elevator is so small. Staring at the ceiling is my best option, so I lock my eyes on the corner of the wall and feel my face grow hot from embarrassment.
Johanna doesn’t say or do anything until finally, after what must’ve been hours, the elevator dings. I lower my gaze just enough to see that we’re on District 7’s floor. Thank god. Smirking, Johanna turns around and walks out.
“Thanks! Let’s do it again sometime!”
Oh, how I hope no one heard that.