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“You,” she breathed as the door opened to reveal Haymitch.
“Me.” He nodded. “May I?” he added, motioning towards the seat next to hers on the cold, hard plastic bench. Not that she’d seen any other kind during her weeks in Thirteen.
She just gave him a shrug.
“Are you here to be one of my judges, or just to gloat?” she asked as he took a seat with a deep, tired sigh.
“Neither. I’m here as moral support.”
She didn’t even try to hold back her snort of laughter. The whole situation was so absurd. So… Absurd. That was the only word she had for it.
“What?” she asked when she could no longer ignore the way he was looking at her.
“Nothing.” He shook his head, averting his eyes.
“Just tell me.”
“Well,” he said, scratching his nose. He’d been doing that so often lately she couldn’t help but wonder if his hands still needed time to learn that they no longer needed to lift things to his lips.
“Well?”
“Anyone else would have made sure to stick to the dress code when summoned to discuss its violation,” he said so matter of factly it made her blood boil.
“Yes,” she said flatly. “Anyone else would have.”
He must have found her answer funny, because he gave her a bark of laughter, then scratched his nose. Again.
“By the way, I’m not wearing anything I’m not allowed to,” she added. “Regulation pants.” She touched her thigh. “Regulation shirt. Regulation headscarf.”
“And what about the bling?” he asked.
“They are all mine,” she said, adjusting her bracelet. The bracelet that was to be the only one she had for the rest of her days. “I brought them to this dungeon and they were all cleared upon my arrival.”
“Alright,” he sighed. “But still. When you go in there, just… Just promise them you’ll stop.” He motioned towards the door with his head.
“I won’t,” she said.
“Effie…”
“No,” she argued. “I did nothing wrong, so there is nothing I need to stop doing.”
“You need to stop messing with the clothes of other people.” He turned towards her in his seat.
“No.“ She shook her head with a smile. “If someone brings me something that needs to be mended, I mend it. It’s my job.”
“If someone brings you something that misses a button, you put the button back on,” he said. “That’s your job.”
“But—”
“You can play with the Mockingjay outfit,” he cut her off. “You can play with your own clothes. But stop there.”
“Oh, come on.” She shook her head again, because it was madness. They acted as if she’d committed a crime, when all she did was taking in a couple of waistlines and shortening the legs of a few pants to fit their owners better. “There’s no harm in—”
“Effie.” He reached for her hand. “This is Thirteen. You don’t mess with these people.”
“Why?” she asked with a frown.
“You just don’t.”
Had he been just a little less serious, she would have surely thought that this was his way of getting back at her for badgering him about his wardrobe year after year during the Games. But there was something in his voice she just couldn’t place. Something she didn’t like.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “If it makes them happy…”
“Good,” he said, caressing the back of her hand.
“You think it will?” she asked, looking towards the door behind which she was to present herself in a few minutes.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But it’s only a minor offence. They will probably be lenient.”
“Lenient?” She frowned. “As in house arrest?”
“I don’t think they would go that far.” He shook his head. “Maybe they’ll just re-assign you, or something.”
“Re-assign?” she echoed.
“Yeah,” he said. “To a different level. For a different job.”
“Like… the sewers?” she whispered as she felt her throat contracting with fear.
“Or the kitchens,” he offered with a smile.
“As if the food isn’t bad enough as it is,” she laughed nervously.
“A potato is a potato, no matter how wonkily you slice it.” He scratched the side of his neck this time.
It sounded awful. Too awful. Sure, she didn’t particularly enjoy mending and sewing this endless sea of grey jumpsuits, but peeling potatoes until her fingers started to bleed?
She just couldn't let that happen.
She had to do something. And it had to start with a gesture.
“Can you… hold on to this for me?” she asked, slipping her ring off her finger.
“Sure.” He held out a hand for it.
She placed the ring on his palm slowly, almost solemnly, then went on to take off her bracelet too, even though she’d never taken it off for a single moment ever since she’d arrived at this wretched place.
“And this.” She handed it over with a heavy heart.
He took it from her with a nod, then put it into the pocket of his shirt alongside her ring.
Suddenly she regretted wasting what precious little mascara she still had on them. But at least she didn’t use any perfume. She’d stopped applying it on her third day when she realised nobody would even smell it over the stench of grey anyway.
“There’s no way I’m going in there barefoot,” she said, looking down at her shoes. Her beautiful, stylish shoes. The ones she’d put on to let the committee know that she respected them enough to try to look her best for them.
“You wanna borrow my boots?” he asked.
“They won’t fit me,” she said.
But it wasn’t necessarily true. If she tightened the laces around her ankle…
“Fine,” she sighed irritatedly. “Quickly.”
He didn’t say anything, just bent forward and started unlacing his boots, and she felt grateful for that beyond words.
She was right, of course. They were three sizes too big for her, but she unrolled the leg of her pants to go all the way down, tucked them in and pulled the laces as tight around her ankles as she could, and it helped.
“Alright, how do I look?” she asked when she stood up and took a couple of steps to see if she could walk in them at all. Then she realised he would answer her and raised her hand to stop him. “No. Please don’t tell me…”
He didn’t. He just hooked a finger into the strap of her shoe and lifted it off the ground with a smile.
“Do I get to try these on too?”
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed.
“Alright.”
“I mean it…”
“Effie Trinket?” asked the woman opening the door behind her. She looked to be about twenty, and must have had a nice figure under her jumpsuit which had clearly never been altered. Not even cinched with a belt.
“Yes.” She turned on her heels to face her instantly.
“Come in, please.”
She gave her a nod, but quickly realised that she couldn’t move. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t go in there to tell those awful people she was sorry for trying to make their lives a little more bearable. She just couldn’t.
“Go,” he whispered, touching the small of her back. “You can do this.”
“Right,” she said as she reached back and squeezed his hand. “I can do this.”
She could. She had to.
So she took a deep, calming breath, let go of his hand and took the first step, which everyone knew was the hardest.
“Keep them safe.” She looked back over her shoulder, motioning towards her shoes.
“I will,” he said with a nod, nudging one of them with his toes so that they would stand straight next to his feet.