Too Clever

Chapter 20

Six left.
     The birds pick up their song again, yet I find myself unable to relax. With only six tributes left, the Gamemakers might start adding a little more action to keep the viewers' attention. That being said, I should probably clear out soon; I don't want to be near the Careers' camp when that happens.
     I could go home, I let myself think seriously for the first time. I allow myself to really embrace this for a moment, imagining myself back in my bedroom, letting Nora braid my hair. Just like before.
     But then I realize that my life will never return to normal. If I win, I will become a mentor. I will be forced to ride the train into the Capitol every year and mentor one of District 5's tribute's. Every year, I would have to relive my own Games at the Capitol.
     I shudder. My life will never be the same, regardless of my fate in the arena.
     A tear roles down my face and stops in between my lips. I wipe it off with my finger and slump down against a tree truck, more tears silently streaking down my cheeks and creating thin, jagged paths across my dirt caked skin.
About ten minutes later, still blurry eyed and sniffly, I eat a few of the berries I collected a few days prior and one of the apples I got before the Cornucopia was blown up.
I spend my time recalling memories of my life before the reaping. How normal it was. How many little things I took for granted. I try to picture detailed images of all the everyday things that made my life what it was.
I think of my mother, sprinkling seeds over the tiny garden in the corner of our yard, surrounded by a little wire fence. I think of my father sitting on a little wooden chair in the kitchen putting on his shoes for work, always the left one first. I think of Nora sitting on her little round stool in her bedroom reading a book, her long red hair always done up in some elaborate style that she could never teach me how to do, no matter how hard she tried.
And finally I'm thinking of Calla. Every day she would come to my house after school and we would sit on the bed in my room and talk about every little thing that happened that day.
My fingers go to my pocket as I suddenly remember the little orange flower Calla gave me right after the reaping. I take it out and find a shriveled mess of brown pedals, completely crushed and broken into several tiny pieces.
"I'm sorry, Calla," I whisper into the twilight. But I don't promise to bring it back home to her. I can't make a promise that can be broken so easily.
The anthem plays. Marvel and Rue are dead. That means only two Careers left—Cato and Clove.
I carefully put the shriveled pieces back into my pocket and lay down, wrapping the blanket around me.
It doesn't take long for me to drift off to sleep.
**********
The house is cold and dark, and one of the windows is cracked. As I enter the kitchen through a threshold with moss hanging down from it, I hear a noise coming from the living room. I slowly make my way into the room, the floor creaking with every step. I want to run, but I can't. It's as if my feet have a mind of their own, moving me forward towards the sound. I enter the tiny living room, and President Snow greets me with a twisted, sickening smile.
"Welcome," he says, "to a Hunger Games reunion." I look around the room, and a big group of people appear out nowhere. All of the tributes, each one looking into my eyes, their expressions full of hatred. Then a boy with dark hair and eyes walks toward me until his face is just inches from mine.
"How are you, Fleta?" says Alec.
**********
     I awake with a start, my heart beating fast, my fingers digging into the dirt.
It was a dream, I think. Only a dream.
After my breathing slows and my heart rate calms down a little, I realize that the house in the dream was my house. I close my eyes and picture the house, recognizing the tiny living room and the kitchen, with its little table and four wooden chairs. The thought sends a chill running down my spine, and I try not to think about the nightmare.
     The sun tells me it's about ten o'clock. I eat another apple, leaving only one left. I still have the berries and about three inches of water left, but it's not enough to last. Since there's nothing edible in the Cornucopia anymore, I'll have to move my spot to find some. I decide to go tonight, as most tributes will probably be asleep.
     I spend the next few hours thinking about which way to go. I analyze what I know about all of other tributes and try to predict where they might be in the arena.
     Of course, Cato and Clove will probably be on their nightly hunts, so I will have to be extremely quiet in case they happen to be in close range. Thresh is most likely in the drop-off near the Cornucopia, where I heard that noise from earlier. The last time I saw Katniss was when she blew up the Careers' supplies. She could be anywhere by now. But she would have to be near a source of water. And I haven't seen Peeta since the very beginning of the Games when he was with the Careers. I wonder what happened to him now that he is no longer with them.
     My best bet is to move deeper into the forest where the foliage is thicker. That way, I should be able to find some berries or roots to dig up, while the plants provide more cover. I will also have to find water fairly soon. The lake can't be the only source, or everybody would have to be in such close proximity the Games would be over within a few days.
I take a small sip of water as dusk begins to fall over the arena. A mockingjay whistles in a branch a few feet above me. Then the sound of trumpets fills the air. Claudius Templesmith's voice booms down, congratulating the six tributes still alive. He continues on telling us that there has been a rule change. Confused, I listen harder, making sure I don't miss a single word. Now, if both tributes from the same district are the last two standing, both of them will be crowned Victors. Claudius Templesmith pauses, then repeats the rule again.
Two tributes can win? But why? This has never happened in the history if the Hunger Games. The Gamemakers must have enforced this new rule for a good reason—you don't just go making changes to something that's been the same for the past seventy-three years.
Well, hurray for the tributes from 2 and 12. They are the only ones that can benefit from this rule change. I can imagine Cato and Clove celebrating this right now, for they no longer have to worry about breaking their alliance before the end. And Katniss and Peeta must be happy as well. Maybe the star-crossed lovers from District 12 will be able to go home and live happily ever after. I roll my eyes. That romance is so tacky; no wonder the Capitol citizens are so head-over-heels for it.
That leads me to an idea. Maybe the rule change is just for that reason. Now, people can route for the star-crossed lovers to win, creating a little more excitement for the viewers. I must admit, it was a smart move on the Gamemakers' part. The people of the Capitol are probably going nuts right now.
Suddenly, a wave of guilt washes over me. I remember the nightmare I had back at the Capitol, the one when Lila accused me of leaving Alec to die in the arena. I remember the night Alec suggested we form an alliance, how I already knew what he going to say before the words escaped his lips. I think of how I didn't even consider that as a possibility, how I just waved him off without a second thought. If I had agreed to be allies with him, Alec might still be here. And now that two tributes from the same district can be crowned, we might have both had a shot at winning.
     I know it's not my fault that Alec is dead; I didn't tell him to run straight to his death at the Cornucopia on the first day. But I can't help feeling guilty about how, if we did form an alliance, I would have told him to not to run into the bloodbath, and he might still be alive.
     I cast the thought away. Alec was not my responsibility. I couldn't have foreseen this rule change when I denied him that night.
     It's not my fault that Alec is dead.