post 74th - part 2
katniss’s pov
They finally let us go home after Cole’s interview. Although Cole swears he’s fine, Haymitch, Effie, and I refuse to leave him alone on the train until he goes to bed. He hardly talks. I keep waiting for him to break down and start screaming or sobbing, but he never does. He just nods, murmurs when someone asks him a question, and picks at bits of food.
Cole doesn’t improve for several months, and suddenly I feel like I’ve earned another mouth to feed, another person depending on me to keep them alive. Honestly, I don’t mind it that much. I just wish there was more I could do for him, but I don’t know how to help.
At first, Haymitch comes with me to check on Cole, but soon enough he starts drinking again and becomes another responsibility for me. Whatever. I wish he would hold it together for Cole’s sake, but if he’s determined to check out, I guess I owe it to him to keep him alive too.
In any case, I’m used to taking care of a useless adult and a helpless kid, so it feels familiar when I drop off game at their houses, convince them to eat, and try to clean up the messes that they leave all over the place. Haymitch never speaks to me, but sometimes Cole is awake and I’ll sit with him for a while. He never wants to talk about anything beyond basic small talk, but that’s fine. I’ll tell him that I’m good, my family’s good, and the weather’s nice as many times as he asks, because I get the sense that he needs something to hold onto, even if it’s just something superficial.
But now, with Cole, Haymitch, and Gale’s family depending on me, I have to spend more and more hours in the woods and the Hob, hunting and gathering more than ever before. Thankfully, Prim and my mother help me with Haymitch and Cole sometimes, which relieves a lot of my stress. In fact, I think I see an improvement in Cole once Prim starts going over to check on him, and I feel like she might actually enjoy going.
When I finally get a chance to hunt with Gale for the first time since before this year’s Games, he doesn’t kiss me again. He hugs me, and he seems happy to see me, but I guess I expected him to act the same as he did last year when I came home. But I haven’t been in an arena this time, so maybe he thought it wasn’t necessary.
“Something’s different,” he says once we get to our spot in the woods, “It started after your Games, but now…”
“What?”
“Now they’re determined,” Gale explains, and now I’m certain I don’t know what he’s talking about. “It’s not just hope, or talking in the mines…it’s planning. They just need the right moment, but they’re ready.”
“What do you mean? What are they planning?”
He sighs and stares out at the horizon, his jaw jutting out angrily. “A revolution,” he says. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he approves of it. Actually, he sounds like he’s one of the ones who’s been planning this.
“We can’t have a revolution,” I mutter. “They’d kill us.”
“Not if we all fought together. All of the districts…they couldn’t kill us all.”
“But you’d be risking too many lives,” I argue.
“That’s what’s different now. People aren’t scared to fight, even if it means risking their lives. Don’t you see it?” His eyes have that look, that rush he gets before a kill. I can hardly stand to look at him.
I want to end this conversation so badly that I almost stand up and walk away, but I don’t move and eventually he changes the subject. How can Gale think that a revolution would end well? He saw what happened to the tributes from 7 and Santhe, and they didn’t even try to fight against the Capitol. They were just trying not to die. I almost want to tell him about what I saw on my Victory Tour, but I haven’t even told him what Snow said because I was afraid of encouraging this kind of thinking. So I definitely can’t tell him now.
Cole’s Victory Tour arrives quickly and I feel like we barely have time to adjust to being home before we’re back on the train, heading to District 11. Haymitch manages to reel in his drinking for the duration of the tour, mostly because Effie makes him, and Cole seems like he’s doing a bit better, although he’s still detached and much quieter than he used to be. It’s like whatever light he had in him has been snuffed out, and now he’s a darker version of his past self. But he pushes through the speeches and the formalities with as much fake joy as he can muster.
In District 7, I think about seeing Johanna. I can’t spot her anywhere, but she has to be somewhere in the square, watching Cole’s visit like the rest of her district. As Cole drones on, I picture her rolling her eyes and making some kind of joke to Blight, smirking in that sneaky way that she always does, and I wish I could find her. We could catch up while we watch my tribute, like we did over the summer. But the schedule is too tight and I don’t want to risk running off and upsetting Snow.
I regret not going for several reasons once we get back onto the train. First, I realize that Johanna might know a bit about how to help Cole, or at least she’d be another person who could understand what he’s going through. Additionally, she’d know what’s going on in District 7 in terms of an uprising, which could help me get a sense of how much danger we’re all in before we see Snow in the Capitol. Finally, as much as I don’t want to admit it, I just want to talk to Johanna. I feel like I didn’t get to say goodbye to her when we left the Capitol, and I want to see her again.
Surprisingly, my wish is granted when we reach the Capitol.
Effie leads the three of us into Snow’s party, then we immediately break apart. Haymitch heads for the alcohol, yelling at one of his friends, while Effie starts to move through the crowd of guests to greet everyone that she knows. Cole and I are left standing by the entrance. I really don’t want to be here, especially if I have to watch over Cole, who is clearly miserable and not making any attempt to hide it.
“We should get food,” I tell him. He barely responds, so I drag him over to the buffet tables and try to coax him into building a plate. Eventually, the food makes him perk up a bit, and he manages a smile.
Somehow, Cole’s able to hold a conversation with the other party guests, shaking hand after hand as people introduce themselves to him and greet me happily. I’m thinking of splitting off on my own to avoid speaking to all of these people when I feel a tug on my elbow. I spin around and come face to face with Johanna.
“Done with the asskissing, 12?” she smirks. She’s wearing a bit of makeup, but not the way the Capitol or the stylists usually do it. Johanna’s makeup is more subtle, enhancing her natural beauty instead of making her look like a caricature. Plus, her dress isn’t nearly as outlandish as some of the others I’ve seen so far. And she must be wearing heels, because she’s taller than I remember.
I can hardly contain my relief as I beam at her. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, as your ally, I had to come and celebrate Cole, right?” I can tell she’s not being totally honest, but I don’t want to press her. Maybe she was forced to be here too. Johanna grabs my arm again and nods toward the door. “Wanna get some air?”
“No, I wanna keep kissing their asses,” I mutter.
Johanna cackles and pulls me outside.
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. We try to find a quiet place to avoid the Capitol citizens, but they’re everywhere, so we have to keep ducking out of conversations with new excuses. We steer totally clear of President Snow himself, but I spot him talking to Cole very briefly and almost intervene before Johanna pulls me away. I’m glad she did, because I realize after the fact that I don’t know what I would’ve said.
We end up by the drinks, where Haymitch is permanently standing with a group of his friends. I mean, I guess they’re friends. They’re all victors, and I saw them together during the Games last year, but I’ve never heard Haymitch talk about any of them otherwise. He notices Johanna and I and nods, then turns back to his conversation.
“Want something?” Johanna asks me, gesturing at the table of drinks. There are so many options that I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve never even seen half of these before.
I shake my head. “I don’t really like the feeling,” I say as I think back to that night before my Games. Peeta and I had wine, because we thought we were dying. I remember liking it at first, but then I felt like I didn’t have control of myself and I couldn’t really pay attention to my surroundings. Maybe I’d try drinking again under different circumstances, but there’s no way I can do that to myself in the middle of Snow’s mansion.
Johanna shrugs. “You don’t have to get drunk, you know. You can just stop when you start to feel it too much.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Johanna?” I joke.
“As entertaining as I'm sure that would be,” she smirks, “no, brainless, I’m just trying to have fun. Do whatever you want. I’m just saying, don’t be—”
“I’m not as innocent as everyone thinks,” I retort.
“Well, I was gonna say don’t be scared,” Johanna chuckles. She grabs some sort of dark liquid and pours herself a drink, then guides me away from the drinks table. “But Katniss?” she says once we find another place to hide everyone, “Don’t think for one second that you’re not innocent.”
I can’t believe her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I know better than anyone that you’re not like these other Victors,” Johanna insists, gesturing out toward the crowd. “You might think that kissing a couple people makes you tough shit, but if someone came up to you right now and asked if you wanted to go home with them, you’d fall apart.”
“Well, how would you react to that?” I counter. It’s not really fair for Johanna to act like I’m some naive little girl just because I don’t want to fuck one of Snow’s party guests. And so what if I don’t want to drink either? That doesn’t make me the image of purity.
“Depends,” Johanna shrugs. “Is she hot?”
Sure, I’ll play along and pretend that it’s no big deal that Johanna said ‘she.’ “Gorgeous.”
“Hmmm…maybe…is she drunk?”
“Sure.”
“No deal then,” Johanna declares.
“Then how can you call me innocent, if you wouldn’t—”
“Look, there’s a difference between politely declining the way I would and freezing awkwardly the way you would.”
“You don’t know what I’d do,” I mutter.
“Oh yeah? Well, if you’re interested, we can go back out into the crowd,” Johanna smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll be your wingwoman.”
“I politely decline,” I say, which makes Johanna burst out laughing and nearly spill her drink.