A Tale of a Boy and His Flower

Denial

Who the woman was calling to remains a mystery, because after searching the apartment, we find she was alone. Perhaps her cry was meant for a nearby neighbor, or was simply an expression of fear. At any rate, there's no one else to hear her.This apartment would be a classy place to hole up in for a while, but that's a luxury we can't afford.

"How long do you think we have before they figure out some of us could've survived?" I ask.

"I think they could be here anytime," Gale answers. "They knew we were heading for the streets. Probably the explosion will throw them for a few minutes, then they'll start looking for our exit point."

I go to a window that overlooks the street, and when I peek through the blinds, I'm not faced with Peacekeepers but with a bundled crowd of people going about their business. During our underground journey,we have left the evacuated zones far behind and surfaced in a busy section of the Capitol. This crowd offers our only chance of escape.

We don't have a Holo, but we have Cressida. She joins me at the window, confirms she knows our location, and gives me the good news that we aren't many blocks from the president's mansion.One glance at my companions tells me this is no time for a stealth attack on Snow.

Zach's still losing bloodfrom the neck wound, which we haven't even cleaned. Peeta's sitting on a velvet sofa with his teeth clamped down on a pillow, either fighting off madness or containing a scream. Pollux weeps against the mantel of an ornate fireplace. Cressida stands determinedly at my side, but she's so pale her lips are bloodless. And everyone thinks I'm unstable and have gone mad.

F̶i̶n̶n̶i̶c̶k̶'s̶ d̶e̶a̶d̶

I want to laugh at myself. What a silly thought. Why would Finnick be dead?

"Let's check her closets," I say.

In one bedroom we find hundreds of the woman's outfits, coats, pairs of shoes, a rainbow of wigs, enough makeup to paint a house. In a bedroom across the hall, there's a similar selection for men. Perhaps they belong to her husband. Perhaps to a lover who had the good luck to be out this morning.I call the others to dress.

At the sight of Peeta's bloody wrists, Katniss digs in her pocket for the handcuff key, but he jerks away from her.

"No," he says. "Don't. They help hold me together."

"You might need your hands," says Gale.

"When I feel myself slipping, I dig my wrists into them, and the pain helps me focus," says Peeta.

We let them be.

Fortunately, it's cold out, so we can conceal most of our uniforms and weapons under flowing coats and cloaks. We hang our boots around our necks by their laces and hide them, pull on silly shoes to replace them.The real challenge, of course, is our faces. Cressida and Pollux run the risk of being recognized by acquaintances, Gale and Zach could be familiar from the propos and news, and Peeta, Katniss and I are known by every citizen of Panem.

We hastily help one another apply thick layers of makeup, pull on wigs and sunglasses. Cressida wraps scarves over Peeta's, Katniss's and my mouths and noses.I can feel the clock ticking away, but stop for just a few moments to stuff pockets with food and first-aid supplies.

"Stay together," I say at the front door. Then we march right into the street. Snow flurries have begun to fall. Agitated people swirl around us, speaking of rebels and hunger and Katniss in their affected Capitol accents. We cross the street, pass a few more apartments. Just as we turn the corner, three dozen Peacekeepers sweep past us. We hop out of their way, as the real citizens do, wait until the crowd returns to its normal flow, and keep moving.