The Hanging Tree

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, or any of The Hunger Games characters. 

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Peeta stands under the stage, his eyes fixed on his shoes, his knuckles white around his cane. Haymitch has just left, after failing to engage him in conversation.  Peeta is about to be lifted onto Caesar Flickman’s stage, but that seems to be the last thing on his mind.  He flinches when the plate he stands on begins to lift him up to the stage, and his eyes clear as he remembers what he is about to do. 

The Capitol audience is roaring in excitement.  I scowl.  Peeta squints when the stage lights dazzle him.  He doesn’t smile at the crowd, but that doesn’t put a damper on the celebrations.  Looking around, I can see some people are not yelling in happiness, opting to remain respectfully silent. 

Haymitch helps Peeta to his seat, before sitting in his own chair and taking a swig of liquor.  I don’t know how he managed to sneak that past all the Capitol attendants.  Maybe he didn’t actually have to sneak it.  

I sit next to Peeta as Caesar says gently, “Peeta.  It’s an honor to have you back.” 

“I bet you thought you had seen the last of me, huh, Caesar?” Peeta says bitterly.  Caesar looks genuinely sympathetic for Peeta.  I put my hand on Peeta’s, willing him to heal and return to his former kind, happy self.  Of course, with what he’s been through the past few days, it’s no wonder he’s miserable.  But I don’t want him to be sad.  He’s really not much fun like this. 

The somber mood is exclusive to those on the stage, and the Capitol people are only disappointed that Caesar and Peeta don’t continue their funny conversations from before the Games.  They forget about that when the highlights of the Hunger Games begin to roll.    As the lights dim, and Peeta takes a deep breath to steady himself, we both find ourselves wishing we were anywhere but here.   

The first thing we see is Effie pulling Prim’s name out of the bowl, and then me volunteering.  Peeta begins to tremble.  I squeeze his hand harder, and I begin to quietly hum The Valley Song under my breath.  Of course he remembers this is the song he first heard me sing.  

Down in the valley, the valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow. 

The song doesn’t bring any joy to Peeta’s face, so my next song is a bit more fitting to his and my moods.  My mother would actually have a heart attack if she heard me singing this on a Capitol stage, in front of all of Panem, but she can’t hear me.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight in the hanging tree. 

That night, I wander into Peeta’s room to find him crying into his pillow.  I sit on the very edge of the bed.  I’m not really good at this comforting thing, but I’ll try. 

Peeta mumbles my name.  I stroke his hair and mumble, “I’m here.”  He quiets down soon, although tears still leak from his eyes.  He doesn’t fall asleep until sometime around dawn, when exhaustion finally overtakes him.  I consider seeing if I can bring him some food, but I decide to just stay by his side. 

The sun rises.  I look at it instead of Peeta’s tear-stained face.  I think to myself, this is the same sun I saw in the woods outside District 12, but in the woods, the beauty of the sunrise’s colors are magnified by great trees skimming the skyline, and the crisp morning air chilling your cheeks, and the birds chirping as they awaken.  In the Capitol, it’s just a bit of beauty that, relievingly, the Capitol didn’t take and break into an artificial thing.