75th - part 2
johanna’s pov
Blight comes to wake me up on Reaping Day and I almost kill him right there. I wish he would just let me sleep through the whole damn thing, even though Snow would definitely kill me anyways. At least then I might not have to go back into an arena. With Blight and Katniss, the only two people who I sort of care about who are still alive.
No matter who wins this, I’ll lose everything.
Since he’s apparently determined to look out for me, Blight forces me to eat breakfast, even though I’d rather skip it entirely. This ends up backfiring in the end, because I’m such a wreck today that I make myself sick worrying about the Reaping. Once I’m finally done chucking up my scrambled eggs, we head down to the town plaza in the heart of District 7 together. Ronin, the only other living victor from District 7, is already standing in front of the Justice Building when we arrive.
Ronin. God, he looks so frail that a gust of wind might make him fall on his ass if he’s not careful. I can’t believe this pile of dust is my last hope, but ever since the announcement of this Quarter Quell, nothing really shocks me anymore. If Ronin’s name is called, I have no hesitation about killing him, and then Blight will be safe. Then either Katniss or I could win, and Blight wouldn’t be alone. Mourning one of us, but not totally alone.
That’s my best case scenario, and it’s still depressing.
I zone out for the entire ceremony until our escort goes up to the two glass bowls and picks out the single piece of paper with my name on it. He reads it out, sounding way too similar to how he read it four years ago, and I almost lose it again. But I force myself to hold it together, to walk forward with dignity, to glare at the Capitol cameras with as much intensity as I can. Snow will not see my fear or my sadness, because I’m leaving that shit behind in District 7.
Blight’s name is called, which fucking sucks, but again, I’m not too surprised. In fact, I bet Snow made sure that Ronin wouldn’t get picked, because who wants to watch him? Half the people watching probably weren’t even alive when Ronin won his Games. Blight’s clearly the more entertaining choice, despite not being a very popular victor either.
They send us off to the train station immediately since we don’t have anyone to say goodbye to, and then we’re on our way. Now that I’m not being broadcasted to all of Panem, I don’t feel quite as nauseous and I decide to indulge myself with some of the Capitol food while we watch the Reaping in the other districts.
“Brutus and Enobaria?” Blight gasps as he sits down next to me.
“Figures. They’re probably excited for this shit.”
Sure enough, they step forward when their names are called and grin at the cameras, snarling and baring their teeth like wild animals. At least Cashmere and Gloss were respectful and seemed a little disappointed to be heading back into the arena.
When we get to District 4, it honestly hurts to watch. Finnick is my friend when he’s not hanging around the Careers or the Capitol elite, and Annie is just pitiful. Then Mags volunteers, and I have to bluntly remind myself that I promised to leave my emotions at home. But I can’t kill Mags. I probably can’t kill Finnick either, but Mags…Mags won’t even put up a fight, which will make it unbearable.
Watching our Reaping gives me a bit of a boost, because I look furious. Perfect. Claudius and Caesar help me out by commenting on my anger, joking about how I’m “not going down without a fight” and “always so intense.” Whatever they want to call it, I don’t care. I got my fucking message across.
The next couple of districts don’t really make an impression on me, aside from Chaff in District 11. That’ll be rough for Haymitch, whether or not he’s in the arena himself. And I’ve always liked Chaff and Seeder. They’re real, unlike some of the other victors, because they never let the Capitol change them. So of course I respect them for that.
Then comes District 12. I try to prepare myself, but it still hits me like a freight train when Katniss gets called forward. Although she’s hiding it pretty well, I can tell that she’s barely holding herself together. Cole gets called, which I guess is better than Haymitch, but instead of holding hands like they’re supposed to, they step forward and the broadcast cuts out abruptly.
“What do you think happened?” Blight asks immediately.
“Something that Snow doesn’t want us to see,” I shrug. They probably did that little salute thing, knowing them. But I wonder if Katniss did it too, or just Cole.
Caesar and Claudius are recapping the tributes now, so I shut off the broadcast before they get to show footage from our Games. That’s the last thing I need right now. Instead, I think about how these little acts of rebellion keep cropping up. It started two years ago, but it hasn’t stopped. In fact, I feel like people are getting bolder about voicing their frustration, especially after the Quarter Quell announcement.
Maybe Blight and Haymitch were right to be worried about Snow’s reaction to the 74th Games. Maybe there could be a revolution.
I can’t shake the feeling. The whole time we’re on the train, and when I’m being prepped for my stylist, I keep thinking about a revolution. It could work, if someone manages to kill Snow. Honestly, I doubt the Capitol would keep fighting after that. They’re not soldiers, and if everyone in the districts banded together…it could work.
But there’s no way to organize it, because the districts can’t communicate with each other. So maybe Haymitch and Blight are wrong after all. Regardless, I’m still thinking about it when Blight and I step into the elevator that will take us to the Tribute Parade.
The Tribute Parade. I’m a tribute again. God, that’s ridiculous.
When the elevator doors open, Blight immediately declares, “I’m gonna say hi to Katniss really quickly. See how she’s doing.” Seriously, if he hadn’t already come out to me a few years ago, I’d think he was into Katniss. He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to agree and follow him, but I just scowl until he leaves.
I’m not interested in seeing Katniss right now. Not when I’m dressed like a tree.
Instead, I stand next to the District 7 chariot and glance around until I spot Blight and Katniss. She’s wearing dark makeup and a fierce, smoldering outfit like a burning lump of coal. How the fuck did Cinna figure out a way to make coal sexy? I hate him for it, because I can’t look away and suddenly Blight’s pointing at me and Katniss catches me staring. Shit.
I drop her gaze immediately and pretend that I have to walk to the other side of the chariot for some reason. Once I’m out of her sight, anger rushes through me like I’ve been set on fire.
What the fuck is wrong with me? It was fine to think about Katniss over the past few months, to wonder whether we could…whatever. That’s over, because now we’re going into the arena. I can’t keep staring at her like this is something fun or exciting, like I want her. I don’t want her. I can’t want her. I have to focus on going into the arena with a clear mind.
Unfortunately, I can’t fucking focus on anything throughout the entire Parade except District 12’s chariot. Katniss and Cole are staring out ahead, not smiling, not waving at the crowd. The look on her face almost makes my own scowl look inviting, because she’s terrifying. The outfit and the makeup only amplify her silent protest, and I’m in trouble. I wish she’d follow me up to my room and fuck me until I literally can’t take it anymore.
I don’t know what to do. So I disappear as soon as the parade ends, before Katniss can even think about coming to talk to me. If she even wants to talk to me. I’m not really sure if we’re allies anymore, given the fact that we’re going back into the motherfucking arena. It’s not something we thought about planning.
I never planned for any of this.