Jeopardy: The Fourth Quarter Quell

Eleven - Birdie-Lou

Birdie-Lou

No, this can't be real, I can't be here. I was only in there once. I didn't even have to take tesserae because Bronson took it for me.

Bronson is here too.

My big brother has an arm around my shoulder and is trying really, really hard to be brave, except it must be hard because he's got to hate me for this. I've brought him away from Ma and Brent and Brent will have to take tesserae now because Bronson won't be there to do it. And Brent has never been a hard worker and the Peacekeepers don't like him, and he'll probably end up whipped or worse, and then what will Ma do?

And it's all my fault.

"Come on, Birdie," Bronson murmurs. "Dry up these tears, come on. You don't want to go and see the Gamemakers with your face all teary." And he dabs at my cheeks with one of the little towel-tissue things that the Avox put on our trays. I just look at him. Bronson is strong and tough and Ma always said he'd run the family like the man my Pa wasn't. Even though he looks so much like Pa, with the same square face and squashed-in nose.

The Peacekeepers got Pa last year, trying to sneak out. They said he was over on the other side of the fence before the towers got him.

When Pa's work partner stood at the door to our shack and told us that, Bronson ran outside and didn't come back for hours and I was worried about him. Ma went very quiet and pressed her mouth together so hard her lips went white, and when she finally spoke she said that my Pa had never thought of his family and what were we supposed to do now? And Pa's work partner hadn't had an answer and he'd wished us luck and done the peace gesture and went off humming a tune that the mockingjays sang for days afterwards.

It was a sad tune and it always made me cry.

And now the family relies on Bronson but Bronson is here and I shouldn’t have brought him here because even though he’s big and strong, I’m not and I’m going to die and then Bronson will die too.

"Is she still crying?" asks Palmer. He's sat next to Bronson, toying with a fork, and I can't remember how he got there and I don't want to like him anyway. He seems nice, in an odd sort of way. I can't see what Bronson does, but he does something and Palmer continues, "She's been crying for days."

His partner is pacing up and down between the tables.

The room is nearly empty now. Not long ago a man came in and told the companions that they were free to go because they weren't needed. The girl from Ten, the one who doesn't seem to know her left from her right and who is too happy and probably doesn't know what's going on, has just gone so there's only Palmer and I, and a girl who looks like a human version of the word 'cold' and a boy with shaven hair, sat at the same table but far apart. Their companions have both gone. The only other two are the pair sat at the table in front of me.

The girl is pretty. Soft-pretty, not like the Career girls. She has a soft-sounding name too, though I can't remember it. Her companion is a girl with a nose that looks more like a beak. The tribute girl looks concerned and has a hand on the shoulder of her tribute partner, who is glassy and staring into his lap. He's rocking backwards and forwards and muttering something over and over and he looks like he might be the oldest person here.

"Not anymore," Bronson says, and Palmer just nods and looks away.

Palmer is going to die too. And the four from Thirteen and the four from Twelve and...and Bronson and me. And I don't want to die.

My cheeks feel wet again and Bronson is patting my cheeks with the incredibly soft tissue-towel thing. He glares at Palmer even though it’s not his fault and I grab at his collar. My big brother. He still smells like home, like broken earth and plants. The only plants here are fake, even the trees in the training room. They look real but they don’t feel alive under my fingers, not like the trees at home that only feel sad. Especially the ones with tracker jacker nests in them.