Catching Fire: What If Katniss Had Really Gotten Pregnant?

Chapter 3

"I'll be spinning again?" He simply nodded, a slight smirk etched onto his face. Oh, dear. What was to happen when I twirled? 

"Cinna?" I looked at him seriously, and he smiled, straightening up and away from my dress, brushing a piece of hair from my face and carressing my face, smiling genuinely at me. 

"Don't worry Katniss." The smile began to turn sad. "I always channel my emotions into my work. That way  I don't hurt anyone but myself." And though his words made no sense to me at the time, I smiled and hugged him.

"Thank you Cinna," I whispered, keeping the tears from my eyes to avoid looking like a complete idiot on television.

I would say just an idiot, but I'm pretty sure that that had already happened.

>>------> X <------<<

When all of the tributes were standing around, waiting for the interviews to begin, someone else did question Cinna, like I hadn't. "I can't believe Cinna put you in that."

"He had to." I replied. "President Snow made him."

"Well, you look ridiculous." Several others nodded and voiced in, agreeing.

I ignored the comments and stared at my feet, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, when I felt someone rest their hand on top of mine. I looked up to see Johanna Mason, from district seven, with a fierce look on her face. "Make him pay for it." What? Did she really just say that? In the Capitol? She didn't seem worried at all about who heard her. She was probably expecting to die in the games and didn't care. I ignored the audacity of it and nodded.

Then we were seated and the interviews began. All of the other tributes had some cunning way of looking amazing on the stage next to Caesar, making me look stupid as I fumbled up the steps next to him and acted like my regular old self. It was the end of my interview that was amazing.

I spun, just like Cinna said I should, and then: my dress became engulfed in flames. At first I was terrified of the smoke and fire that rose around me, then I realized that it must have been one of Cinna's tricks. So I kept spinning until I came to a stop, arms risen above my head.

My dress was now made of charcoal colored feathers, and the strips of fabric coming down off of my wrists looked like wings.

I was a mockingjay. And it was quite obvious. I hadn't heard what Caesar had asked, I simply knew what my answer would be to him, no matter the question. Hopefully it would fit the conversation. I could barely breath.

"I... I think I'm supposed to be a mockingjay." I choked out. A buzzer. I stepped down, that was it. Right?

The only interview that made the capitol buzz more than mine, of course, was Peeta's. Him and Caesar had been a perfect match ever since his first interview the year before. Each one of them perfectly charismatic, adding funny comments and jokes both at the exact right time.

They bantered with each other, the crowd occasionally gasping, laughing, whatever they did it had an effect on them.

Then Caeser brought up the wedding. "Well," Peeta began. "Do you think the audience out there can keep a secret?" What was he going to say?

"I'm sure they can," Caesar grinned as he awaited what Peeta was about to say.

"We're already married." What? The crowd grew a collective gasp. "Well, not officially. No signing papers at the justice building or anything like that. But we have this ritual in District 12, called a toasting. We get together with the family, have a meal together, sometimes with cake; Then the couple toasts bread together. No, it's not official, but in 12, we're as good as married."

"Well, at least your last time together was spent happily."

"Yes, I supposed." Peeta said, but his face and tone seemed uneasy.

"Surely a brief amount of time together is better then none at all,"

"I'd feel that way too," Peeta paused, and I his eyes found mine as he spoke his next words. "If it weren't for the baby." That set the crowd off. Caeser tried to calm them, but the ding for the end of Peeta's interview sounded before he could. Tears streamed down my face suddenly, there was no stopping them. Did Peeta know?

No, it must have been for the audience. There's no way he could have known. I'd have to tell him now. He walked down the steps and stood next to me. Our hands found each other and interlocked. I reached over and grabbed the other tributes hand next to me. I stared into the camera trained at us and couldn't get myself to look away.

Before I knew it we were all hand in hand. The camera didn't have enough time to cut us out, I knew it. The camera my eyes were trained on, stayed trained on us for a moment. The cameremen looked confused then his camera was switched off. But it had been too late. We had been seen. One of the first ever signs of unity between all of the districts. Surely the cameramen would be punished. But I had more important things to worry about at the moment.

The Captiol crowd screamed, shouted, many cried. They were going off like bombs, all of them. I'm sure my eardrums would burst. The only thing that eventually quieted the crowd was the blaring anthem of the Capitol blasting out through speakers above our heads, ten times louder than it was supposed to be. My ears vibrated, and my teetch clenched as we were escorted out.

I knew when I had to tell Peeta. When we stepped into the elevator to go back to our rooms, I pressed the button 12. Peeta automatically put his hands on my shoulders and turned to me. "Do I have anything to be sorry for?" He asked me.

"Nothing." he nodded, dropped his hands off my shoulders, turned, and stared straight ahead.

"Oh," he smirked. "And your acting has gotten better."

"Peeta," more tears fell from my eyes. "That's because I wasn't acting." he turned to me, saw the tears, and his hands automatically grabbed hold of mine.

"What do you mean Katniss," he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Peeta," I began. "I'm really pregnant." And then he fainted.