18
She Crept Up On Me
About four years later, shortly after the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games.
"Nice to have you back for a while," Crest sighed, kicking a rock around in front of her. Brye and Dawn were holding hands a lot these days, so I walked somewhere between Crest and Martin.
"Yeah, sorry, it's been sort of busy in the Capitol lately."
Martin laughed and slapped me on the back. When did his hands get so big? "Yeah, busy. Just for once, can you bring one of those girls home for me?"
I chuckled and rolled my shoulder to stop the stinging. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"Market place," Dawn rang from behind, "I need to get something for my mom's birthday dinner. And you two boys need to sign up for the next fishing trip or the peacekeepers are going to have your heads."
The two boys groaned miserably, "Augh, my hands haven't healed since the last one," Martin grumbled, showing me his scabbed-over blisters. I winced for his sake because I didn't want to be the kind of guy that reminds my friend I've been sliced open a few times whenever he shows me a tiny cut. It was around dinner time, so all the marketers were sitting behind their booths with bored faces stuffed with fish sandwiches and clam soup.
"Here Dawn," Martin said, reaching into a wooden bucket, "would your mother like...a LOBSTER?"
He whipped the massive lobster from the water and held it straight in front of her nose. She squealed as it spread out its legs and claws like some sort of demented red spider. I burst out laughing, and couldn't blame her a bit for screaming. With its beady little black eyes and wiggly feelers, it looked as crazy as something created in the Capitol. A tall peacekeeper with a broad chest walked up behind Martin with his arms crossed. When he spun around, he was so surprised he almost dropped the lobster.
"Oh...sorry, I was just playing..."
Martin went to go put the creature back slowly, his eyes trained on the peacekeeper's stern face. Once we heard the small ploop of confirmation, we shuffled away and tried not to draw attention to ourselves even though we were snickering. Martin forced Brye to sign up for a shift on the Amelia Seabourn Vessel, even though it technically didn't need any more hands.
"Why do you want this one so badly?" Brye complained, scribbling his name on the bottom line of the list.
"Because it's Amelia Seabourn's ship! She might be a withered old lady now, but her granddaughters are gorgeous. Have you seen them? Gorgeous."
Brye rolled his eyes and latched himself back onto Dawn's hand, "I don't really care," he replied, throwing her a wink. I envied the two of them a little bit, with their easy, uncomplicated relationship. If they wanted to see each other, they would. If they didn't, they had the choice not to. For all the years I've spent hanging around women, very few of them I actually wanted to see. I couldn't say I didn't have a little bit of fun; thanks to years of practice in both technique and the ability to numb my own mind, I finally found my life to be tolerable. With Annie's advice, I didn't hate myself after every night I didn't spend alone because I'd come to terms with the fact that that was just the way things were, and I couldn't change it. Oh well. I had my friends, the letters from my mother, the occasional meals eaten with Mags and other Victors who understood what I was going through. I learned I wasn't the only one who was playing prostitute in the Capitol for the rich and powerful. The blonde twins were just a step under me in popularity, as a matter of fact. They used to be more popular, but in light of my recent 'filling out', my ratings have gone nowhere but up. Even my friends and people I've spent my whole life growing up around couldn't stop themselves from staring at me.
