“Are you even listening to me? She can’t fight, and I’ve no money to work with since my family can’t bet,” Hilarius whined. “I’m just hoping she lasts until the final twelve so I can face my parents. They’re embarrassed that a Heavensbee’s making such a poor showing.”
After lunch, Satyria took the mentors over to the Capitol News station so they could become acquainted with the behind-the-scenes machinery of the Hunger Games. The Gamemakers worked out of a handful of shabby offices, and while the control room assigned to them was sufficient, it seemed a little small for the annual event. Coriolanus found the whole thing a bit disappointing — he’d imagined something flashier — but the Gamemakers were excited about the new elements of this year’s Games and chattered on about mentor commentary and sponsor participation. The booth was abuzz as they checked the remote-operated cameras that had been fixtures back in the sports arena days. Half a dozen Gamemakers were busy testing the toy drones designated to deliver the sponsors’ gifts. The drones found their recipients by facial recognition and could carry just one item at a time.
Lucky Flickerman, fresh off his interview success, had been tapped to host, backed up by a handful of Capitol News reporters. Coriolanus got a thrill when he saw himself slotted in at 8:15 the following morning, until Lucky said, “We wanted to make sure to get you in early. You know, before your girl buys it.”
He felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. Livia was bitter and Dr. Gaul insane, so he’d been able to ignore their certainty that Lucy Gray wasn’t a contender. But somehow goofy Lucky Flickerman’s words hit home in a way theirs could not. As he walked back to the apartment to prepare for his final meeting with Lucy Gray, he ruminated over the likelihood that she’d be dead by the same time tomorrow. The previous night’s jealousy over her loser of a boyfriend and the way her star quality sometimes outshone his own evaporated. He felt remarkably close to her, this girl who’d dropped into his life so unexpectedly and with such style. And it wasn’t just about the accolades she’d brought him. He was genuinely fond of her, far more than he was of most of the girls he knew in the Capitol. If she could survive — oh, sweet only if — how could they help but have a lifelong connection? But for all his positive talk, he knew the odds were not in her favor, and a heavy melancholy descended upon him.
At home, he lay on his bed, dreading having to say good-bye. He wished he could give Lucy Gray something beautiful that would really show his thanks for what she’d given him. A renewed sense of his worth. An opportunity to shine. A prize in the bag. And, of course, his life. It would have to be something very special. Precious. Something of his own, not like the roses, which were really the Grandma’am’s. Something that, if things went badly in the arena, she could wrap her fingers around as a reminder that he was with her, and find comfort in the fact that she was not dying alone. There was a silk scarf dyed a luscious deep orange that she could probably use in her hair. A gold pin he’d won for academic excellence, engraved with his name. Maybe a lock of his hair tied in a ribbon? What could be more personal than that?
Suddenly, he felt a surge of anger. What good were any of these unless she could use them to defend herself? What was he doing but dressing her up to be a pretty corpse? Perhaps she could strangle someone with the scarf, or stab them with the pin? But there was no shortage of weaponry in the arena, if that were the issue.
He was still trying to figure out a gift when Tigris called him to the table. She had bought a pound of chopped beef and fried up four patties. Hers was considerably smaller, which he would’ve objected to if he didn’t know she always nibbled on the uncooked meat while she prepared the meal. Tigris craved it and would have eaten her whole portion raw if the Grandma’am hadn’t forbidden it. One of the patties was reserved for Lucy Gray, layered with toppings and nestled in a large bun. Tigris also made fried potatoes and creamed cabbage slaw, and Coriolanus selected the finest fruits and sweets from the gift basket from the hospital. Tigris laid a linen napkin in a small cardboard box decorated with brightly plumed birds and arranged the feast, topping the snowy white fabric with one final rosebud from the Grandma’am. Coriolanus had chosen a rich shade of peach tinged with crimson, because the Covey loved color, and Lucy Gray more than most.
“Tell her,” said Tigris, “that I am rooting for her.”
“Tell her,” the Grandma’am added, “that we are all so sorry she has to die.”
After the soft, sun-warmed evening air, the chill of Heavensbee Hall reminded Coriolanus of the Snow family mausoleum, where his parents had been laid to rest. Empty of students and their bustle, everything from footsteps to sighs echoed loudly, giving an otherworldly feeling to an already gloomy meeting. No lights had been turned on, the late rays that slipped through the windows being thought sufficient, but that contrasted sharply with the brightness of their earlier meetings. As the remaining mentors gathered on the balcony and surveyed their counterparts down below, a hush fell over them.
“The thing is,” Lysistrata whispered to Coriolanus, “I’ve become rather attached to Jessup.” She paused a moment, arranging the wrapping on a chunk of baked noodles and cheese. “He did save my life.” Coriolanus wondered what Lysistrata, who had been closer to him than anyone else in the arena, had seen when the bombs went off. Had she seen Lucy Gray save him? Was she hinting at that?
As they wove their way to their respective tables, Coriolanus forced himself to think positively. There was no profit in spending their last ten minutes together weeping when they could devote it to a winning strategy. It helped quite a bit that Lucy Gray looked better than in previous meetings in the hall. Clean and groomed, her dress still fresh in the shadowy light, you’d think she’d readied herself for a party and not a slaughter. Her eyes lit on the box.
Coriolanus presented it with a small bow. “I come bearing gifts.”
Lucy Gray lifted the rose daintily and inhaled its fragrance. She plucked a petal and slipped it between her lips. “It tastes like bedtime,” she said with a sad smile. “What a pretty box.”
“Tigris was saving it for something special,” he said. “Go ahead and eat if you’re hungry. It’s still warm.”
“I think I will. Eat one last meal like a civilized person.” She pulled open the napkin and admired the contents of the box. “Oh, this looks prime.”
“There’s a lot, so you can share it with Jessup,” Coriolanus told her. “Although I think Lysistrata brought him something.”
“I would, but he stopped eating.” Lucy Gray shot Jessup a worried look. “Might just be nerves. He’s acting kind of funny, too. Of course, all kinds of crazy’s coming out of our mouths now.”
“Like what?” asked Coriolanus.
“Like last night Reaper apologized to each of us personally for having to kill us,” she explained. “He says he’ll make it up to us when he wins. He’s going to take revenge on the Capitol, although that part wasn’t as clear as the killing us part.”
Coriolanus’s glance flitted over to Reaper, who was not only powerful but apparently good at mind games. “What was the response to that?”
“Most people just stared at him. Jessup spit in his eye. I told him it wasn’t over until the mockingjay sang, but that only confused him. It’s his way of making sense of all this, I guess. We’re all reeling. It’s not easy . . . saying good-bye to your life.” Her lower lip began to tremble, and she pushed her sandwich aside without taking so much as a bite.
Feeling the conversation taking a fatalistic turn, Coriolanus steered it in another direction. “Lucky you don’t have to. Lucky you have triple the gifts of anybody else.”
Lucy Gray’s eyebrows shot up. “Triple?”
“Triple. You’re going to win this thing, Lucy Gray,” he said. “I’ve thought it through. The moment they hit that gong, you run. Run as fast as you can. Get up in those stands and put as much distance as you can between you and the others. Find a good hiding space. I’ll get you food. Then you move to another space. Just keep moving and stay alive until the others all kill each other or starve to death. You can do it.”
“Can I? I know I’m the one who pushed you to believe in me, but last night I got to thinking about being in that arena. Trapped. All those weapons. Reaper coming after me. I feel more hopeful in the daytime, but when it gets dark, I get so afraid I —” Suddenly, tears began streaming down her face. It was the first time she hadn’t been able to contain them. On the stage after the mayor had hit her, or the time Coriolanus had given her bread pudding, she’d been on the verge of crying but managed to keep her tears in check. Now, as if a dam had broken, they flooded out.
Coriolanus felt something inside him unravel as he saw her helplessness and felt his own. He reached for her. “Oh, Lucy Gray . . .”
“I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
His fingers brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Of course you don’t. And I won’t let you.” She sobbed on. “I won’t let you, Lucy Gray!”
“You should let me. I’ve never been anything but trouble to you,” she choked out. “Putting you in danger and eating your food. And I could tell you hated my ballad. You’ll be well rid of me tomorrow.”
“I’ll be a wreck tomorrow! When I told you that you mattered to me, I didn’t mean as my tribute. I meant as you. You, Lucy Gray Baird, as a person. As my friend. As my —” What was the word for it? Sweetheart? Girlfriend? He could not claim more than a crush, and that might be one-sided. But what could he possibly have to lose by admitting she’d gotten to him? “I felt jealous after your ballad, because I wanted you to be thinking about me, not someone from your past. It’s stupid, I know. But you’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever met. Really. Extraordinary in every way. And I . . .” Tears welled in his own eyes, but he blinked them away. He had to stay strong for them both. “And I don’t want to lose you. I refuse to lose you. Please, don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. It’s just . . . I feel so alone,” she said.
“You’re not alone.” He took her hand. “And you won’t be alone in the arena; we’ll be together. I’ll be there every moment. I won’t take my eyes off of you. We’ll win this thing together, Lucy Gray. I promise.”
She clung to him. “Sounds almost possible, the way you say it.”
“It’s more than possible,” he asserted. “It’s probable. It’s inevitable, if you just follow the plan.”
“You really believe that?” she said, watching his face. “Because if I thought you did, it could go a long way to making me believe it, too.”
The moment required a grand gesture. Fortunately, he had one. He had been on the fence, weighing the risk, but he couldn’t leave her like this, with nothing to hold on to. It was a matter of honor. She was his girl, she had saved his life, and he had to do everything he could to save hers.
“Listen. Are you listening?” She was still crying, but her sobs had quieted to small, intermittent gasps. “My mother left me something when she died. It’s my most precious possession. I want you to have it in the arena, for good luck. It’s a loan, mind you. I fully expect you to return it to me. Otherwise, I could never part with it.” Coriolanus reached into his pocket, extended his hand, and fanned out his fingers. On his palm, gleaming in the last rays of the sun, sat his mother’s silver compact.
Lucy Gray’s mouth dropped open at the sight of it, and she wasn’t easy to impress. She reached out and caressed the exquisitely engraved rose, the antique silver, before drawing back regretfully. “Oh, I couldn’t take it. It’s too fine. It’s enough you offered it, Coriolanus.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, teasing her a bit. He smoothly clicked the latch and held it up so she could see her reflection in the mirror.
Lucy Gray drew in a quick breath and laughed. “Well, now you’re playing on my weakness.” And it was true. She was always so careful with her appearance. Not vain, really. Just conscious. She noticed the empty well where the cake of powder had sat an hour earlier. “Did there used to be powder here?”
“There did, but —” began Coriolanus. He paused. If he said it, there was no going back. On the other hand, if he didn’t, he might be losing her for good. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you might want to use your own.”
CHAPTER 13
Lucy Gray understood instantly. Her eyes darted to the Peacekeepers, none of whom were paying attention, and she leaned in and took a sniff of the compact. “Mm, you can still smell it, though. Lovely.”
“Like roses,” he said.
“Like you,” she said. “It really would be like having you with me, wouldn’t it?”
“Go on,” he urged her. “Take me with you. Take it.”
Lucy Gray wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “Okay, but it’s a loaner.” She took the compact, slipped it into her pocket, and gave it a pat. “It helps to clarify my thinking. Somehow, winning the Games is just too large a thing to conceive of. But if I say, ‘I need to get this back to Coriolanus,’ I can wrap my mind around that.”
They talked a bit more, mostly about the layout of the arena and where the best hiding places might be, and he got half of the sandwich and all of a peach into her by the time Professor Sickle blew her whistle. Coriolanus wasn’t sure how it happened, but they must have both risen, both moved forward, because he found her in his arms, her hands clutching his shirtfront, as he locked her in an embrace.
“You’re all I’m going to think about in that arena,” she whispered.
“Not that guy back in Twelve?” he said only half-jokingly.
“No, he made sure he killed anything I felt for him,” she said. “The only boy my heart has a sweet spot for now is you.”
Then she gave him a kiss. Not a peck. A real kiss on the lips, with hints of peaches and powder. The feel of her mouth, soft and warm against his own, sent sensations surging through his body. Rather than pulling back, he held her even tighter as the taste and touch of her made his head spin. So this was what people were talking about! This was what made them so crazy! When they finally broke apart, he drew a deep breath, as if surfacing from the depths. Lucy Gray’s lashes fluttered open, and the look in her eyes matched his own. They simultaneously leaned in for another kiss when the Peacekeepers laid hands on her and led her away.
Festus nudged him on the way out of the hall. “That was some good-bye.”
Coriolanus just shrugged. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
“I guess,” Festus answered. “I tried to give Coral a reassuring pat on the shoulder and she about broke my wrist.”
The kiss left him giddy. Beyond a doubt he’d crossed a line, but he didn’t regret it. . . . It had been amazing. He walked home alone, savoring the bittersweet parting, electrified by his daring. Maybe he’d broken a rule or two by giving her the compact and suggesting she fill it with rat poison, who knew? There was no real rule book for the Hunger Games. Okay, he probably had. But even so, it was worth it. For her. Still, he wasn’t telling anyone, not even Tigris.
It wasn’t a game changer necessarily. It would take cleverness and luck to poison another tribute. But Lucy Gray was clever, and no more unlucky than the others. They would have to ingest the poison, so his job would be to get her the food to use as bait. He felt more in control, having something to do besides watch.
After the Grandma’am had gone to bed, he confided in Tigris. “I think she’s fallen in love with me.”
“Of course she has. What do you feel for her?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I kissed her good-bye.”
Tigris raised her eyebrows. “On the cheek?”