When The Canary Sings

Growing Pains

First Person Point of View: Becca Blue: 

* 

"They're calling it The Shot That Stopped the World." Johanna tells me as she stands at the foot of my bed, holding a suitcase. I smile. Haymitch, Katniss, Will, Greasy Sae, and Will have all gone back to Twelve. Peeta, Johanna and I are all here for therapy. Finnick and Annie went back to District Four. Once everything was over, finnick couldn't keep a smile off his face, or his hands off Annie.

After I shot Snow and Katniss shot Coin, it was pandemonium. The crowd pressed in, people were running, screaming, rioting. I scrambled on top of a crate and began waving a big white flag, screaming: "Let freedom ring! Let freedom ring!" Johanna joined in too.

We've been in the Capitol since late november, I think. Now, spring is beginning. I wonder how it's going at home. In 12.

I scoff, my eyes flicking up to Johanna. "You goin' back to Seven?" I ask, "I'll miss you."

Johanna sighs, "don't go soft on me." She says, "and I don't really know. There's nothing left for me there."

"There's always a spot in Twelve." I smile, "there's forests there."

She smiles, "thanks."

"Maybe Four, you can help out with Finnick and Annie."

"And be anywhere near those lovebirds. No way." She scowls playfully. I laugh. I know she's just joking, because deep down she loves all of us.

"Well, I wish you happiness wherever you go." I say. She gives me a genuine smile, and walks off.

Shortly after that, Plutarch walks in. "You're going home." Instead of the shot that stopped the world, those are the words that stopped my world.

The words hang in the air. "Really?" I breathe, "you ain't messing with me, right?"

"No tricks, Becca." Plutarch says, "you've earned it."

I feel like collapsing with relief. I glance out the window, looking at the sunlight it lets in. I've lost so much, so many people. Lost myself. After these hellish three years, I get to go home. Around this time last year, I was training for the Quarter Quell. Six months ago, I arrived in District 13 for the first time. Two months ago, I felt like I should just die. Now, I get to go home.

In my time at Capitol therapy, one thing I've learned is how the little things are what make life worth loving. The pink sky in the morning, a bird's chirping waking me up, my favorite breakfast on a bad day, the moon at night.

"Thank you," I say shakily as my voice quivers with the threat of tears. "Peeta too?"

"Peeta too."

I let out a strangled sob, and dig my head into my hands, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. I can't help but let fear wash over me. What if home isn't home. Is there a chance they don't want me there? I am the direct cause of countless deaths, I wouldn't blame them if they never wanted to see my face again. What if Will found someone else? Six months is a long time.

I can't even fathom home. I know it was burned to a crisp, ashes covering the streets. Is it rebuilt yet? I doubt it. Are the refugees home? I hope so. I wonder if Marin is still there, smoking a cigarette and dancing to no music. Maybe she's met someone, maybe she'll never come back to Twelve again. I hope she met someone, maybe someone from Four, or Ten, because now traveling between Districts is allowed. Now Marin can go wherever she pleases.

"You're alive, Becca." Plutarch says, "you're living, make the most of it."

"Doesn't feel like living." I say, smearing my tears on my cheeks. Living isn't being cooped up in a room being monitored. Living isn't not being able to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. Of course, I have my bad days, but that isn't living. Living should be me out in the meadow, with Will.