Crowning the Victors
The story so far:
Peeta is a Victor, but the doctors tell him he lost his leg to an infection. They say he lost Katniss to nightlock poison and that he lost his mind to grief. On the other hand, doctors won't tell him how they saved him from an incurable poison, which should have fried his brain, or why they couldn't do the same for Katniss. The Katniss only Peeta can see or hear says they all are lying.
Peeta doesn't know if he is sane or not, or what really happened, but he knows what he is going to do. Peeta is going to take on the whole Panem and protect Katniss' family, just like he promised Katniss he would. Panem doesn't know it yet, but an old evil has returned, and they are all in danger.
Crowning the Victors
Over the course of the next few days I looked so normal it was scary. I still needed a cane, but I was getting around pretty well. I told the doctors I knew Katniss was dead, and while I was still very sad, I knew I would survive. They all seemed very pleased with me and my efforts to recover.
I sucked down all my pain and fear. I needed to fool those people, and I knew I could do it. Sometimes I would fake a nap and just lie there praying for the strength to keep anything from showing. My hand would constantly feel my stump as I prayed, giving away that fact that I wasn't really asleep, but I couldn't stop. My leg, my poor leg.
A small part of Katniss had come back to me, and I was determined to stick to my bargain with her. I knew at some point I would break down; I could not do it forever, but I could do it long enough.
Soon the day for the ceremony had arrived, and Portia showed up with a black suit for me. It was really a lovely suit. I was so glad that it was a somber color that fit my mood and didn't force me to act like things were normal. In keeping with the fire theme, it had some marvelous sheen on it that flashed yellow and red in direct light.
My crew, along with Portia, went to the training area and caught an elevator leading to the penthouse. The whole place seemed empty—no guards, no trainers, and no tributes. In the penthouse they prepared me. After I put on my suit, I sneaked into Katniss' old room and just looked around, only to find there was nothing of hers left.
We went to the stadium for the Victory Ceremony. As I walked down the long, dark hall underneath the stage, I could hear the roaring of the crowd.
At the end of the hall, Haymitch was waiting for me. His face changed when he saw the somber expression on my face, and he knew I was in no mood for an upbeat message.
Haymitch took my shoulders and said, "Peeta, you gave it your all. You held nothing back, and the fact that Katniss didn't make it is not your fault. Don't become like me. Don't let your losses haunt you. I'm sure Katniss would have liked to think your knowing her somehow made you stronger."
"Katniss did make me stronger. I know you're worried about me and you think I've become unhinged, but that's not the case. Remember: I was one of the weakest to enter the arena. I was the one who knew he wouldn't make it, yet here I stand. I survived over them all because I wasn't thinking of myself. I was driven by love, and that is much stronger than fear."
Haymitch grabbed me and whispered in my ear, "Peeta, you and Katniss have become some kind of fascination with the people, and the president doesn't like it. I'm not sure what you should do, but be on your guard, okay?"
Instead of letting go, he paused for a long time, then added, "Peeta, you should know . . . they operated on your brain. When I first saw you, you still had the scars. I'm not sure what they did, but all your original doctors are dead now. One of the nurses told me that what they did to save you was illegal, but she didn't say what it was." He let go of me, turned, and went down the hall. He didn't want to give me a chance to say anything.
Above me I could hear the anthem playing and Caesar greeting the crowds. I searched the dark corners of the hall, half expecting Katniss' gray eyes to peer out. Then I heard my prep team being announced and the roaring of the crowd. I had a nervous feeling, and in my head I called for Katniss to come.
Then Effie was announced and the crowd's chanting grew even louder.Please, Katniss, I need you with me. This is going to be so hard. I heard them call Haymitch, and the crowd stomped and screamed, positively shaking my bones. A speaker in the hall told me to prepare, so I centered myself on the elevator.
My knees were shaking, and I leaned even harder on my cane.
The elevator started up, and I thought I would vomit. It broke through the trap doors onto the set, where Caesar shouted my name. The crowd went wild. It was a bright summer's day, and the huge mob stretched out before the stage.
There were so many people, thousands just lining up from the stage back. As I took my first step, one lone dark cloud moved over the sun, blackening the stage. Between my shaking knees and nausea, I moved slowly, leaning hard on my cane. To those in the audience I must have looked like an old man. My jet-black suit made it hard to see, but every time a light hit the fabric, great licks of red and yellow fire jumped across the suit.
As I hobbled across the stage, the clapping began to dissipate. I missed the mark where I should have turned to sit and walked slowly to the very edge of the stage. I stared out over the crowd, partially expecting to see Katniss in the crowd. I scanned the faces, and they just stopped cheering. I finally turned around and sat in my chair just as the cloud passed and once again the day was luminous.
Though it was not on purpose, I knew from then on the whole day, which Snow meant to be a celebration, was going to be a wake. When they began the review tape I knew I was in for three hours of pure pain.
They started at the beginning with the reaping, the parade, and the training. Every tribute received some screen time, but Katniss and I had the lion's share. For the first time I saw all that Katniss went through before the rules changed, and sure enough there she was in the tree when I killed the girl from District 8.
Maybe I was not so crazy after all. I also saw how I tried to mislead the careers about Katniss' abilities and strategy, me fighting Cato to protect Katniss, and my retreat to the river. So even though I was the Victor, my own story kept pointing back at Katniss. She became the center of the story.
Watching Katniss and Rue join together was very hard, because I knew how it would end. Rue really had been a beautiful child. I had to say, watching the explosion that destroyed the Careers' supplies was the best part, and got a lot of crowd applause. When we arrived at Rue's death and Katniss' beautification of the body, I was so proud of Katniss that it almost overcame the sadness of the moment. The crowd got noticeably quiet during that whole section.
The cave scenes were next, which brought back so many memories. I had to fight not to cry. When I saw what Katniss had to go through to get me the medicine, I really thought I was about to lose it.
When Cato died, the filmmaker did something new, something radical—he started cutting away to groups of people in the city. From there, the screen split with random groups of people on one side and our story on the other. For the first time, I saw the sheer joy many had when it seemed we had won. People were hugging one another, and all the young girls were crying.
And then they showed the rule change, and you could see everyone stop, as if the whole city was holding its breath. I couldn't believe the government allowed those images, and I became concerned for the life of the film's editor. It was almost over when the most anguishing part came. The crowd was noticeably quiet when we relived the last moments of Katniss' existence.
When it showed us putting the berries in our mouths, it appeared as if the city was screaming at their screens. Claudius announced us both as the winners. We fell together, tainted by the berries' poison, and you could see as I pulled her close. We ended up looking like we were just spooning each other on the ground, both obviously dead.
They came to retrieve our bodies, and the doctors were shown in the shuttle, working on our bodies. Katniss and I were on two beds, side by side, as dozens of doctors buzzed around us.
You could see the head doctor's mouth and read his lips as he said, "I'm calling it. At 11:22 they are both dead." Claudius announced our deaths. The screen went blank, and on our side there were a series of images of people just staring at their screens in terrified shock.
Then Claudius came on the screen and announced, "Peeta Mellark is alive and is the 74th annual Hunger Games Victor!" I had never seen anything like it. I didn't think anyone had. I was dead . . . I was dead for something like an hour. What happened in that hour?
Katniss, where are you? Why did you let me go through this alone? I feel so alone up here.
When I stood up at the end of the film, the whole crowd rose with me. The anthem sounded again, and from behind the stage came President Snow, followed by a small girl with a crown on a pillow. He greeted the crowd and placed the crown on my head; I couldn't help but notice the anger lingering throughout his expression.
As he looked into my eyes he saw something—I didn't know what, but suddenly I could see his fear as he almost stumbled back. He presented me to the crowd and as quickly as possible left the stage.
I knew from President Snow's actions that I would need allies. I would need to use every bit of my charm and every bit of the people's sympathy to get through it. If I was going to protect the Everdeen family, I would have to make the option of attacking me politically impossible.
Maybe if I acted strong enough he would seek me out as an ally. We would see. I'd come up with a terrible scheme: I would have to manipulate the people's better feelings and convert Katniss from a person into a symbol.
After the show I asked for Effie to get my picture of Katniss, and with it in hand we went to the presidential mansion for the Victor's Banquet. At the banquet everyone wanted to talk to me and get their picture with the new Victor, as they do every year. But unlike every other year, they also gave their condolences. It all had the air of a funeral.
I did the best I could to work the crowd and charm whomever I encountered. Effie knew most of the people and gave insight, but her idea of important and mine did not agree. So I depended on my own instincts most of the time. My grandfather—and to a lesser extent my grandmother—had taught me how to read people. They taught me to watch the body language and eyes to find the deeper meaning in every conversation. People of equal rank walked all over each other's conversation and ignored each other's eyes. People with superiors always looked into their eyes before beginning, and didn't interrupt. When in doubt, just ask one person about the other; their reaction would tell it all.
Most of the people came and went, but a group of women formed that just hung around me. In the group I discerned two different types: those who were mourning Katniss and who really wanted to have her bravery and determination, and those whose hearts broke for the star-crossed lover survivor. It was also obvious that many of them thought my story was so romantic they couldn't resist me. The hunger in some of their faces was disturbing. I hoped I wouldn't have to play that card.
Eventually I met Livia Stone, who seemed to be the pinnacle of society from the others' reaction to her. She was an elderly woman in a dark purple dress, so dark it almost looked black. We began conversing about art, of which she was an obvious admirer and a major patron.
I brought out my picture of Katniss and shared it with her. She fell all over herself to praise it; she offered to set up a show for my artwork whenever I was ready. Livia sent her servant to get a frame for the picture and a stand.
As soon as the picture was up, people started gathering around it. Without any planning or forethought, things began to happen. People started placing flowers all around the picture, and someone got a big piece of cardboard and placed it next to the picture. People began writing small notes on it. Some of the notes were simple condolences; others were notes of their favorite memory of Katniss. Many mentioned her bravery in the reaping and in the game. Some talked of her beauty in the parade and interview.
When I finally told Effie I was too tired to continue, the sun had just risen below the horizon. In just a couple of hours we would be preparing for the interview with Caesar.
Katniss had not made an appearance all day, and I began to wonder if something was wrong, or if something was somehow right. Maybe I was under some kind of delusion, and it suddenly disappeared. But if it was a delusion, it was one hell of a delusion.
We returned to the 12th floor of the Training Center just one last time. I told Effie I wished to sleep only a couple of hours and I that I wanted to sleep in Katniss' old bed. Effie's eyes watered, and she embraced me.
Then, she handed me Katniss' Mockingjay pin. "I was going to take this back to Katniss' family, but I think it would be better if you gave it to them."
"Thanks, it . . . well, thanks."
I went into Katniss' old bedroom, holding the pin tightly in one hand, and lay down in the dark.
"Please, Katniss, please talk to me," I whispered to the room. I needed to fall asleep. I lay there as still as possible, counting in my head. Many hours later, Effie came in to tell me we needed to prepare for the interview.
I hadn't slept at all.
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