Chapter Text
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore –
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some gentle rapping, rapping at my chamber door-
“Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door -
Only this and nothing more” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the last Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.
Happy birthday, Haymitch!
The same voice wakes me up every year on reaping day. Not in reality of course. Only the dreams, the nightmares. That’s where I get relief from this world only to be haunted in the next. Sid. Ma. Lenore dove. Louella. Maysilee. Lou Lou. Wyatt. Wellie. Ampert. All the newcomers. They wish me luck for my mentoring this reaping day and tell me to do a better job at keeping them alive than I did the newcomers or tributes. And then another gumdrop, right into Lenore Dove’s mouth. I wake up gasping and staggering to the kitchen, desperate for relief. The only thing I tolerate about the games is the distraction they give me from my thoughts, my life, and District 12's haunting. And the food and booze is impeccable. On the table sits the now stale bread and sour milk. Out of everything the Capitol sends, I will never eat or drink these. Snow is determined to always send them and I never eat it again. I will not eat the same diet as a poisonous snake. I refuse it. So would Lenore Dove. So would Maysilee, my sister: Fork and knife or not. I look to only see all my stores of booze, empty. The shelf, cabinets, tables is empty of anything that can make these thoughts quiet. I stumble around looking for a bit until I see it’s a lost cause. I catch a glimpse of the graveyard from my window. I’m sure Snow just knew that would happen. Seeing the graveyard every day and being reminded of his control, my failures. Even though I picked this house I’m sure it was constructed by him somehow. I’m reminded of who lies in the ground...Sid and Ma...this day has not been my birthday since I was 'reaped' for my games. And every year I wake up on July 4th I’m reminded of the promise that I continuously am failing at.
“Don’t you…let it…rise…”
“I can’t stop it. You know I can’t stop it.” I cry.
“…on the…reaping.” She finishes.
“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
“Promise.”
“Okay. Okay. I promise. But you can’t leave me because I love you like all-fire.”
“You too.”
My bird. My love. I have done nothing to keep that promise. And here we are another reaping day, another year sending some poor child to their deaths and there’s nothing I can do. Another sunrise on a reaping. Helpless as always. Just as helpless to fight the Capitol then and even more so now. Just as powerless. With all these thoughts I will never get the peace I need. I grabbed my envelope with my Victor earnings and started off to the hob. Hattie had been long gone, even though I missed seeing her around at least one death wasn’t my fault. One thing I will say. I am not picky about my liquor anymore, only that I wanted the stronger stuff which was expensive. Only peacekeepers, shop owners, or the glorious victors of District 12 have the money for it. How lucky am I? I stumbled into the hob and went to the liquor booth. The guy selling tried talking to me only I couldn’t make out what he was saying. You don’t want to be friends with me, buddy, that’s for sure. Certain ruin for you. I buy two bottles and even some sleep syrup, what can I say old habits die hard...or don’t. I slammed some money down and started the trek back to Victor’s village. That’s when I made the mistake of walking past the shops. I see her. Burdock and Asterid’s daughter, carrying something and walking into the hob. She’s just like him, truly. He taught her all he knew, and she took to it like butter. I got to hand it to her, taking over for her family when Burdock died took guts. If it was painful for me, I can only imagine them. I remember Asterid not showing up at the apothecary anymore. How could I blame her? I’d want to shut the world out too. Not with two kids though. I wanted to step in, to help them, help her. I wanted to care for Burdock’s family the way I knew he would’ve for mine....did I’m sure when I was in the arena. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let them in, I couldn’t look at Asterid and her two daughters who resembled my old friend so very much. I’ve seen her, Katniss, I believe her name is trading, passing the fence to hunt with some boy. Stay clear of that one girl. Love is a weakness in the arena. Especially that of one that blossoms in the meadows of District 12.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
“Lenore?”
I just kept walking. I wanted to say something multiple times. To her. To burdock. To Asterid. And I couldn’t. What can I offer them besides guilt and shame and regret? I keep walking head down until I get a whiff of that smell. The one that is so sweet it’s almost too good to be true. And if I learned anything from the arena it’s that most things are. Somehow that thought has stuck all these years. I look up and see the Candy Shop sign high and the door is open. I’m sure the Donners get great business on reaping day. Why wouldn’t you want to send your child off with a sweet? It might be the last thing they ever know from 12. I don’t know what prompts me to do this, but my feet are moving as if on their own accord. I walk into the shop and hear a small ding.
“Be with you in a lick!” A female voice calls from the back. I don’t have to guess though. I know whose it is. Mr. and Mrs. Donner died a few years back due to a heart attack. Not that it would surprise me with the stress the Capitol keeps putting on all the merchants now. That was when Merilee took over the Shop. She’s married to the Mayor so it wasn’t about the money for her, more about the memories and the life of the shop. And personally I think she likes the remembrance of her sister. Merilee now runs it occasionally and maybe that is what prompted me to go in. To see her, who looks just like Maysilee and sometimes I forget that she is dead. In a grave. Because of me. No, it’s because of Snow and the Capitol. A voice says in my head. But I shake it off. I don’t need any more rebellious and rascal-like thoughts. I walk slowly to the counter as Merilee walks out holding a glass bottle of what looks to be licorice. She turns and sees me dropping the bottle as it breaks into pieces.
“Haymitch.” She says shock on her face. Then it turns into something I don’t understand. Confusion, anger? No anger I understand just fine. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be slumming it up getting drunk and prepared to parade on District 12?” She goes for a broom and I move to help, but she holds out a hand as of saying ‘stop.’
“I-“ was all I could get out as she sweeps up the mess on the floor and pushes it to the side and looks at me. Merilee is standing in front of me, but I’m still in shock as she doesn’t look much like Maysilee anymore. She cut her hair a while back and tried to get it dyed which only lasted a few streaks in her hair. But also, the wrinkles. Age does that. We aren’t 16 anymore. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to look like my dead twin either. Who am I to judge? But in the faint glow of the shop, I can still see her. The rudest girl-turned-sister in that arena, begging me to find Wellie instead of going north.
“Go home, Haymitch. There’s only an hour until the reaping. And you reek. If my husband sees you’re drunk again, he might hand you over himself.” Do I really reek? I don’t know if I do. I don’t remember taking a shower. The mayor wouldn’t hand me over he can’t. Then who would take the kids to their graves?
“I-“ I start again trying to form any thought or any sentence. But what? “I, um. I’m sorry about your parents.”
“I know you are. They weren’t your fault.”
“Yes. Unlike others. Still. Your daughter, she doing alright?” Why am I trying to create something? What’s her name, Madge? Even her child, being the mayors daughter, isn’t safe from the reaping.
“Madge is fine.” So I can still remember names it seems. “I’m letting her father be with her this morning so I could be here at the shop and out of the Justice Building. Why are you here, Haymitch? I know it's not for the candy.” She stares at me.
Why am I here? Why did I come here? Perhaps seeking friendship? No. A reminder? “I meant to ask...but never got around to...” Maybe if you stopped slurring, you’d understand yourself, idiot. “The pin. Maysilee’s-“ I stopped talking. Was I really going to bring up her dead twin right now? Genius.
“It’s not here. It’s long gone. I was going to burn it, but instead gave it to Madge. More of a symbol of hope and reverence than anything else. Even she’s not safe from today. So, I can’t help you. If you aren’t going to buy something, you’re going to scare off decent customers with your smell.” Do I really smell that bad? Why is she being so rude? I’m not even remotely the person to question this, I know this. I get hit with that thought. “You should go wash up before my husband notices.”
“Right...sorry. I was just leaving.” I turned to leave thinking of the last thing I could have of Maysilee was gone. Not gone but given to Madge. But how smart of me to ask only what? 30 years too late? I have Lenore’s dove striker, but I can rarely look at it anymore. I stagger back to Victor’s village and head into my cozy quaint home. Walking in, I see I have 40 minutes until I need to be on stage and sending two more kids off to be killed. Great, so that’s 40 minutes to start on this bottle. Which I do until I pass out.
I wake up with a gasp as water hits my head and I scream punching whoever is trying to kill me! “No! I have to protect her! Lou-” Is all I scream as I come to and realize I’m in the Justice Building bathroom and look who is standing there, bucket in hand. Effie. How did I get here?
“Well, don’t you look wonderful today?”
“Promoted, were you?” I spit.
“Well yes. I finally get to be the face of the reaping in a district. District 12 is as good as any other.”
“I know you can’t believe that.”
“No matter. You need to get cleaned up. You smell awful.” Effie said covering her nose. “Certainly far from the old you.”
“So, I’ve heard,” I say with a pounding headache. “The old me? Maybe you have forgotten what the ‘old me’ had to endure.” I scoff.
“One doesn’t forget such atrocities...but it’s still no excuse.”
Still no— if I didn’t feel so dizzy and weak I’d be yelling at her like no tomorrow. Manners be gone. Because it’s all I can muster, and because I’m slightly suspicious I ask, "How did I get here?"
"Well seeing as you were needed here for today, the mayor thought it prudent to have some peacekeepers load you up and get you here to wash up in case you didn't want to show again. His words, not mine. And since you are Capitol, I was tasked with this wonderful duty."
"How kind of him.” I mumble. “I am not Capitol, and you know that. Don't ever call me that again. I don’t do what you all do.”
”I suppose I do. Though I no longer see that young boy with his fight, you do still have a district...attitude.” She barely smiles. “And just like you don’t like being branded, neither do I. I may be Capitol but be reminded, I have grace and poise still.”
“Yeah, that of a bear.” I laugh and she rolls her eyes and huffs. “I can't even shower in peace, call it what you want: attitude, district, being fed up, but yes the fight is gone." Peace that's a funny word to use, isn't it? I thought. I don't remember the last truly peaceful moment I felt. No, that's not true. That day in the meadow when I saw her one last time not even knowing it. It was home, we were safe until I murdered her. The thought of being Capitol hits me. Capitol? No, I'm from the districts...well, I guess not anymore. I'm not starving like the rest, I can afford more, I am Snow's puppet after all. Maybe I am Capitol. Another reason not to live, love it!
“Believe what you would like. For now, you need to take a quick bath. And then, there’s a suit on the back of the door. Oh and run a comb through your hair. I’ll see if I can find some coffee.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t want any.” I haven’t wanted coffee since I had it in the arena as I sat and watched the claw take Maysilee away. Why would I drink it as a nicety when she never could again in normalcy?
Effie leaves and I refuse to take a bath. I’m not a child anymore. Baths bring me back to my days in the tribute quarters sitting in there until I couldn’t anymore, waiting to drown my thoughts, my sorrows, my fears. If I smell, good. It’s on them. I put on the suit and buttoned up whatever would attach to the other side. I don’t care how I look. They all know we’re a joke anyway, everyone knows District 12 is a joke and a failure. We never stand a chance of winning. I walk out and realize the buzz I felt was wearing off. I need to fix that. I stumble around the Justice Building looking for something to take my thoughts away. Ma…Sid…Leonore Dove…the reaping and sure death of two kids I cannot save…just like Louella, Lou Lou, Ampert…seriously, where’s the liquor?!
I head towards the kitchenette area until a peacekeeper comes and ushers me the opposite way. Oh, wonderful them again. I don’t have it in me to fight but I know what it means: the reaping has begun. I see Effie take her place as the peacekeeper takes me outside. Why is it so dang bright out here? It’s always so sunny on the worst possible day. The peacekeeper leads me down some stairs, to the front of the stage, and gives me a shove to walk up. I get mad and I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s because I have had enough Capitol hands on me to last a lifetime, conscious or not, hoping my lifetime was short. Maybe it’s because it’s so bright out here and I can’t see. I hear someone vaguely call my name at the mention of a victor or something. I don’t care. “Don’t touch me…get off…” I started hollering and ripping away from him.
I stagger up the stairs and after giving the biggest sarcastic smile I can to the mayor, I nod mockingly toward the Capitol officials and plop myself down in my rightful spot: the third chair. Alright, let’s see who the lambs are for slaughter this year. I sit through the ridiculous and tedious video that’s a blatant lie about peace, war, security…blah blah blah. It's all a lie. A ruse. Lenore Dove knew it was a lie too. No one believes this crap. Oh, my girl. I listen to the start of the names about to be drawn, hearing Effie sound all too cheerful to say these kids' names. Sunshine and Effie, two things I love, I say to myself sarcastically. That is how I know we are not the same, she is Capitol I am not. I can barely sit here listening to any of this. But I do. I just sit waiting and listening and I look out ever so slightly towards the meadow, the place of freedom for me, for Lenore Dove. I peek over to where I know the graveyard is, who am I kidding I don’t deserve such freedom. I am as much a prisoner as the district itself. Effie is about to call the first name. Why do I feel anxious? I know I can’t do anything, I know what’s coming. So why, every year, does it make me so nervous? I know no one here, I care for no one here...I can’t.
“Primrose Everdeen,” Effie calls. You’ve got to be joking. Well— maybe I know a few people here… I can’t bring myself to care, but somehow here I am. Burdock and Asterid’s child, the youngest. Oh no. Not his family, his kin. I feel something in my heart, a tug, or a pull. I should’ve tried to protect them more. What could I have done? I am powerless against the reaping, as I am everything else. I watch her come forward ever so slightly, she’s shaking. Of course she is, she can’t be more than 12. This is her first year, one year younger than Louella was, the same age as Ampert when he was reaped. Just their luck.
“I’m sorry, Burdock,” I mumble under my breath. I was supposed to be their uncle, burdock was supposed to be alive. I start to hear screaming and I’m pulled out of my thoughts.
“I volunteer!” Wait— huh? What? What’s happening? I hear the commotion in the audience. I look in the audience and I see her step forward pushing her sister behind her. “I volunteer as tribute.”
Oh, you idiot. No. You just signed yourself up for certain death. What are you doing? Either way, one of them will be dead. I can’t do this. I can’t mentor Burdock’s kid to her death. The child I was supposed to be apart of her life! I can’t help her. Surely, he’ll understand that. I see a taller young boy pick up the little girl, Primrose was her name. And then I see some peacekeepers escorting her forward and she stops on the stairs and looks at me. Look at her, like a complete mixture of the two. She steps next to Effie, who is really pissing me off. Why is she smiling so much? Surely, she knows from my time in the arena how brutal the games are, how unjust and unfair they are. And now the girl is about to find out.
“Well, bravo!” Effie says. “That’s the spirit of the Games!” Spirit? As if this is some school event, guess she doesn't know. “What’s your name?”
I see Burdock’s girl hesitate. “Katniss Everdeen.” I’m sorry, Burdock, I think, that’s all I can think. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” trills Effie Trinket. Good deduction Effie, these Capitol brains are something, aren’t they? How brainwashed can you be to think this is actually just enjoyment- a show?
I hear the crowd go silent. Then they do something that I haven’t seen in a very long time. The salute. The one we give dead family members and community members. The one we gave Ma and Sid and my fellow tributes. It fits; she is already dead. Effie then goes to the boy's side and I can’t help but feel a sense of relief and dread that my name won’t be pulled, not that I ever really left the arena, not that I was ever truly reaped. I see it all every night and day. I don’t know what this girl’s goal is now. What idiot willingly volunteers for death? She’s braver than the rest though, braver than many. Braver than half the people in the Capitol, that’s for sure. I can’t help myself at that thought: bravery. The one thing that doesn’t matter in the Hunger Games. With liquor still coursing through my veins I stand up, better congratulate her for her— what should I call it? Heroism? Lack of brains? Ha.
“Look at her. Look at this one!” I holler putting an arm around her shoulder as if we are the best of buds. I see Asterid in the crowd giving me a look, tears in her eyes. I say this to her. “I like her! Lots of...“ Lots of what? Guts? Lots of stupidity? No… umm “Spunk!” I say triumphantly. Spunk, rascal, things the Capitol hates, things the Capitol can’t control. The Capitol has no bravery or spunk. They’re cowards. “More than you!” I say walking forward and pointing to the peacekeepers. But it’s not them is it, it's Snow who is the coward. “More than you!” I shouted, pointing directly into a camera. I get pulled back to my reaping, seeing Lenore Dove fighting, Woodbine getting shot, Ma…Sid, Plutarch using them for his video's only to cut them out of it. I start to feel woozy and shaky. Is it the heat? The booze? The thoughts? The unnecessarily bright sun? Who knows but I need to tell the Capitol what I think of them, like I did then. I step forward and start to talk but why can’t I talk? What’s going on? And I fall flat on my face off the stage, unconscious.
I wake up, once more, on a couch in the Justice building. Dang building, dang peacekeepers, I think. I look at a clock in the small room I'm in. There's about 10 minutes before we need to get on the train and leave. And yet I’m on a couch. The train is my most tolerable part of the games. Unlimited booze and little interruption except the nagging of whatever boy and girl get picked wanting my unhelpful and forced advice. I wake up feeling aches all over my body, to a hurried knock at the door. I sit up feeling the gauze on my head as it pounds. I try to get up towards the door but can’t. I’m too weak. I see the door open and a lady walks in. Oh great. I think. I don’t want this.
“Asterid?” I ask as if this could be another dream. “Is this real?”
“Well. It’s sure been awhile. You have looked better.” She says looking at me up and down as if she doesn't know who I am. And I guess she doesn't- not anymore. I blink and rub my face and realize this isn’t a dream.
“Yeah? You think? Well, I'm sure you could do better.” Who is she to comment on how I look? “Nice job with the girls hair. Looked much like Maysilee used to do. Remember her? Got taken away from us. And look at that your daughter being in the same predicament as your dead best friend.” I snicker, no humor in my tone.
“Maysilee taught me that hairstyle... Listen, Haymitch. I know why you shut us out-“
“Didn’t you do the same to your kids when Burdock passed? Shut them out? They didn’t even have a fighting chance. I'm glad you can have some understanding now. Making your daughter take care of you. At least I can take care of myself.”
“Can you though? The only reason is because you have no one else. You don’t have the responsibility. Think about what that would be like.” Asterid says quietly but still a hint of aggression in her tone. She’s right. I only have had to care for myself these last years. But I would have cared for Ma..for Sid...if given the chance. But I did though. When Pa passed. I took over, probably the same age as when her child took over. So no. I won’t let her make me feel guilty or saddened by this. She walks forward more to me. “You call this taking care of yourself?”
“No I don’t have that responsibility. Not anymore.” I say looking away from her. “I do the best I can.”
“And so did I.“ I turn back to her. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying-“ trying to what? Hurt me? Bring up the most painful parts of my past?
”Well by the looks of it...guess your girl can't take care of you anymore, huh.” I laugh, but not out of humor. Out of anger, pain, pity.
“Haymitch, just stop and listen to me.” She ignores me and walks toward me sounding more desperate than I have ever heard her. She is standing right in front of me and kneels down. And for Burdock, I listen. “I don’t have a ton of time. I know how you mentor. I know you don't care and think it is a certain death-"
"Think? I don't think, Asterid. I know. You see how these games are."
"You won them, and I know it wasn't just by your own strategy. You had help."
"I won by pure and awful luck. Luck that ran out. The only luck that that leads to pain. You think your girl has that kind of luck? You better wish and hope she doesn’t. I wish I didn't win, believe me. I wish I would’ve died in that stupid death pen. Whatever help there is, cannot save anyone in that arena."
"Please, listen to me." She pleads and I nod at her to go on. "I know you know more than that. Katniss, she's just like him— Burdock— and even you. She's a survivor. She's strong, smart, and a hunter. She can do it, you know. You need to help her, give her the strategies that got you through.”
“No one can do that, Asterid.” I roll my eyes and hold the bridge of my nose. “Even if she does win, she’d never be the same. She’d never truly come home herself, the girl you knew. Better her to die as herself. Whatever the case is, she's already gone.” I say as Asterid walks more toward me and grabs my arm crying.
“Not with Prim here she won’t be lost. She loves her like...like you did Sid.” I look at her eyes as she cries. “I don’t care what any of it means. I'm begging you to try and protect her, please. Really try. I know you have more influence and power than you care to believe or realize. Don’t let her die. Don’t let her waltz in there not knowing what to do. Please, Hay...give her a fighting chance. Actually, try with them. You'll see him in her and maybe a bit of yourself. Do this for me, for him. For all of them. Haymitch, please.” For a moment I contemplate it. I've seen her, what she can do. Not that I've paid close attention. Burdock would be ashamed of what I become and I know Asterid is. I sigh because I just want to get on the train already. Maybe I can get some painkillers. Asterid is still gripping my arm. I look at her crying. I know she’s right, and it would be nice the keep the closest thing to my bestfriend alive. I sigh hating what this all means, hating Asterid crying here in front of me holding my arm. And maybe it’s because she is annoying me, or maybe it’s because I have a bit of care left in me.
“I will do what I can.” I lie. I know there's nothing I can do. But I can't let her know that. “But it won’t be much. And know, there’s nothing I can do once she steps foot in the arena.”
She sighs relieved, and hugs me. “There is. And I know you’ll figure it out. Thank you.”
I wave her off and stand there frozen, for a second I think back to the days before my games when Burdock and I would go into the woods and drop the herbs off at the apothecary and Burdock would forget what the name of the herbs were the second he saw her. I always had to remind him as he was talking to Asterid, our little group. At least this time, I won't hurt Asterid or her family. It'll be the Capitol that breaks her heart, the games. She lets go and nods at me a final time before walking out. I catch a glimpse of that taller boy again, holding Primrose. Hope you said your goodbyes, I think. Deep down...I feel my heart twinge a bit. I know she only did it to save her sister- her family. I would have done the same for Sid. I would have done anything to save my family, and that thought alone, the thought that we may be alike, makes me feel like I have never wanted alcohol more.
A peacekeeper comes and gets me and escorts me to the train, FINALLY. I usually am on the train first and get time to settle in my room or the bar car. Which today is no different. I get on and go straight to the bar ca,r, not even looking at my room yet. I doubt it's changed since the last few times I have had to be in it. A man, who has become all too familiar with me, smiles.
“Ah. Haymitch. Good to see you.”
“Bacchus.” I nod back. Oh yeah another perk, the booze is free. I rip the gauze from my head and throw it on the floor.
“What’ll it be?”
“The strongest you got.”
“How about just some scotch?”
“Yeah, that too.” He pours me a glass. As he tries to make conversation. Just shut up and give me the liquor. But then I remember.
"Hey. Do you still have that flask that was taken away from me last year? I figured they gave it to you." Bacchus looks at me and then sighs grabbing something from under the counter.
"Here. But I was told not to refill it once it's empty."
"Well, it won't be empty if you keep putting liquid in it." I say as I shake the flask tauntingly and he takes it. With a groan, probably hating himself which I can understand, he pours a clear liquid in it.
"Don't abuse it or we will both be in trouble." I nod taking both the scotch and the flask to my bedroom car and see I was right. Nothing has changed.
Silk bed sheets, chandelier, a small dresser, and closet. Not that I remember much from last year, I was blackout drunk for most of the games. The tributes stood no chance. A 12-year-old boy and a 14-year-old girl both from the seam, with no skills. All they knew was starvation and horror. They were goners and I knew it. Most of the years have been like that. Whenever I even thought I had a fighter, whenever I truly tried, all that time was wasted the second the gong rang and they all died in the bloodbath. Every year. So I drink away my sorrows until someone comes to get me to talk to these kids about how they are going to die. Another year, another forgetful games. I don't know how long I am out for but I know some time has passed. It's that annoying high-shrilled voice that jolts me up from my 'meditative' state alerting me it's time to get up.
“Haymitch! Come on. Get up. I told you coffee would help. Let’s go. You need to meet the tributes.” Effie says walking in and opening the curtains in my car.
“You mean the pigs. More accurate for what they’re going to go through.” I scoff.
“Whatever you want to say. Get up. At least get a look at them. I don’t know when I became your personal chaperone, but I will not have it. I have enough to worry about. Dinner is ready so get going.” She says and walks out sending in a peacekeeper. Effie looks at home and back at me and then walks away. Personal chaperone? She made herself that. Why must she always be so loud and bossy? I'm not a kid. Is it because she thinks she's better than me? She may be Capitol and brainwashed, but no she doesn't think that. Effie treats me and the tributes far nicer than anyone does.
I groan looking at my empty glass. I suppose it’s time for a refill anyway. I don’t want to get a ‘good look’ at the tributes. I can’t help them, protect them. I know it’ll be a lost cause. But I know one of them at least is Burdock’s kid. I owe it to him and my promise to Asterid to at least see what they have to offer. I don’t want dinner, I'm not hungry. I am not hungry much these days. My main focus is getting through the games and staying back at home for another 11 months in solitude. I toss and turn hating the Capitol, hating it all, not letting myself slip into my own thoughts. I groan some more, sitting up. I try to put myself together some, not that it matters, it’s a lost cause. I drink the final sip of my drink. My head buzzing, my ears ringing, my body aching, I stand up saluting the peacekeeper, and walk out of my car into the dining car. As I walk in, I see her. The girl...Katniss, looking the same as she did just a bit more put together. At least one of us can make a good appearance an make Effie happy. That’s when I catch a glimpse of it, her pin, the gold shining on her dress. I know what it is the second I see it: The Mockingjay pin, Maysilee’s mockingjay pin. No, Madge’s now. Well not anymore, somehow the girl got it. How did she get it? Was it given to her by Madge? Did she steal it in the Justice Building? Did she find it? How..how is she wearing it?
I stare at her before fully stepping in. I can't help it, I feel tears burn the back of my eyes. Burdock loved Mockingjay's, and they stopped singing when he did just to repeat his voice just as beautifully. And here she is parading it around, not even knowing what it means. The Mockingjay, the bird that goes up against the Capitol. The symbol of hope. Reverence for Madge. Maybe I have judged the girl too harshly. Then I look at the boy, fully stumbling into the room, head still not on right. Peeta Mellark. That’s the lad's name. He’s the baker's boy— Otho’s son. I bet he was hoping one of his big, strong brothers, volunteered for him. He looks like he’s been crying by the red in his cheeks and splotches by his eyes. Great. A cryer. That’s a sure way to show people you’re weak. Crying will get you nothing. I should know. I wonder if Otho and the hag even said bye to him? Regardless, looks like I know all the tributes this year. Lucky me. No one's safe from the reaping, not even merchant kids…just like Maysilee. Look at them, a couple of eager birds ready to be shot down. I stagger towards them as Katniss and Peeta's smiles fade. I see their plates emptied and desserts in front of them. That’s how I know I succeeded in missing dinner. But they don’t need to know that.
“I miss supper?” I feel just as woozy as before. Man, this has been a long day for me. And my head has not recovered since this morning…morning? Could it only be this morning I was in Twelve, with no kids to lead to death? And now…I can't hold it in anymore; tears, thoughts, whatever is in my stomach and vomit. Very close to Effie’s hideous footwear.
“So laugh away!” I hear her say but not as clear as now everything is spinning. I deserve this, I never care for the repercussions of my drinking. I refuse to stop. And she walks away leaving the two eager lambs....pigs to stare at me on all fours on the floor. Head pounding, now feeling the blur of my brain from being drunk the whole day.