Mentors

47

"You want her to what?" Katniss hisses, her voice getting louder with each word.

"I said-" Plutarch starts.

"I heard what you said!" She rubs her forehead.

"Then why ask?" Coin blurts, flipping through wrinkled pieces of paper.

"She won't be in any real combat, just the star squad! This will consist of you and a group being broadcasted. We need to let Panem know she's alive and that she escaped the hunger games without a scratch."

"Lord knows I left that damn arena with more than a few scratches. I'm not going."

"You won't be in battle," he argues. "It's a propaganda."

"So you're saying, that we won't be fighting. At all?" Katniss asks.

"You will be fighting no people Miss Ever-"
he pauses to see the look on her face.
"..Mrs. Mellark."

"Oh please," President Coin interferes, "that was no real wedding, you may refer to her as Soldier Everdeen."

"Yes, it most certainly was, President." I say, crossing my arms.

She slides her papers to the side and laces her hands together, leaning in towards me.

"Says who, Miss Belle?"

"You are very respected here, President Coin. I suggest you try and keep it that way. Pay respect in return where it is due. It would be a shame if your war symbols were to step down from lack of civility."
I look over, and realize those gracious words came from Gale. This catches everyone's attention. Beetee tips his glasses, nodding. Finnick runs his sore hand through his ratted hair, now focusing on the dialogue at hand.

"I see your argument, Solider Hawthorne. Although it would also be a shame if someone were to confiscate your position in combat... put you on kitchen duty until we win this war."

Before he can intervene, she continues,

"I do suggest that you speak where conversation is directed at you."

Gale looks over at Katniss, before slugging into his seat, very well defeated.

"Isn't this what we are fighting for? The right to say what we want, love who we care about, and live somewhat peacefully? Taking away his privilege to speak, what is that going to prove? That you have the same power Snow does?" Katniss scorns, with no expression in her voice or face.

"You may think you have authority over everyone because you're the mockingjay, Miss Everdeen, but you-"

Coin is interrupted by the loud sound of Katniss rising from her chair, infuriated.
She picks up Cinna's design book from the table, and heads toward the door. Before she fully slams it, she looks at Coin's wide eyes.

"That's Mrs. Mellark, to you."

Katniss pov

Anywhere. Anywhere but there I want to be. What makes her so superior and more logical than Snow? If we win this war, what's really going to change?

I end up walking back to my compartment, hoping it would be empty. Although my wishes were not granted, whereas Peeta sits on the bed cot holding Rosie. Effie occupying a nearby chair. Peeta shoots me a warm smile, and then drops it after he sees my expression. His eyes, and furrowed brow ask me what's wrong.

"I'm not being her precious mockingjay. They can kiss my flaming feathery ass if they don't want to treat me with respect." I sit on the bed opposite them, facing the wall. From the corner of my eye, I see Peeta hand the baby over to Effie, telling her to let him handle this. What's there to really handle?

Hearing the door close signifies that Effie has left. I continue to stare at the wall, my arms crossed. I don't know how he manages to do it, but as soon as his arms wrap around mine from behind, I close my eyes and lean back into him, immediately feeling relief.

"Katniss." he mumbles softly. Just hearing him say my name calms me down significantly. I refuse to speak, and he doesn't either. I just lay there, feeling his heart beat faster with every breath I take.  He laces his hand with mine, sitting behind me on the small mattress.

His soft voice echoes, catching my attention,

"Don't be the mockingjay for Coin. Don't even do it for me. Better yet, not even for yourself.." he reaches out for Cinna's design book, and hands it to me.

"I know you trust him. If this wasn't the right thing to do, then why would Cinna bet his last bet on you? You're the one he believes in. So does everyone else."

"Why do you always know just what to say?"

"Because I'm me," he jokes, nudging me.

"I'll be their little bird symbol. But it's not to my liking."

I unwrap myself from his arms and stretch my tired limbs.

"Where are you going?" he asks me.

"Want some air, don't know where I'll find it underground, but a girl can try."

With that, I shut the door, heading where my feet feel like taking me.