nothing in this { n a m e } // soap&olivia

Of all my required stops on the Victory Tour, this is the one I've been most afraid of. I stopped in 12 first, then 11, then 10. I skipped out on my home District, which is always the last place the victor is taken to celebrate, and now we've stopped in District Eight, the home of Savannah Carey, my closest ally.

My escort shoves a useless stack of note cards into my hand when we step out of the car. Immediately, I'm so taken aback by the crowd that I almost drop them in the dirt, because the square is full of people, all supposedly excited to see me... but are they, really? The other Districts weren't nearly so happy about the forced celebration; they looked too beaten down to enjoy the festivities, perhaps still begrudging me for my victory when one of their own could be in my place. Admittedly, I never liked attending the Victory Tour celebrations either, because the victor never once came from home, and it was always just another reminder that we were commemorating death, not life. Though I was forced to attend, I did so with my mind on other things, distracting myself with the company of my brothers and sisters.

The next hour or so passes in a blur as I'm ushered onto the stage in front of hundreds of people, clutching onto my dead ally's token. I figured I would be able to give it back to someone – a family member, maybe? But now I'm not so sure, because the crowd is vast and I don't know who this belongs to.

Some people in the crowd are smiling, but soon I can see the cracks forming in the way people are looking at me – half of those present in the audience have steady frowns painted onto their faces, and those with smiles begin to falter as I read out the Capitol's prepared speech.

In this case, I feel obligated to say something about the ally that I lost, but what is there to say? I finish reading through the cards and stare forward, ummm-ing for a few seconds before I can gather my thoughts. When I do, I pray that my words come out right; talking has never been my greatest strength, and like my stylist said, I'm not exactly the charming, eloquent victor the Capitol had hoped for.

”Please know this -” I say to the crowd, holding my chin up and forcing the cards into my pocket. ”If it couldn't be me, I wish Savannah could be the one here talking to you right now. She was a strong ally, a good friend, and one of the greatest people I ever met. I'm sorry for your loss, and for the loss of the male tribute as well – I know, I ..”

I was the one who killed him in the Bloodbath.

I don't know what to say, now. That's when things get awkward; I'm not willing to say that I killed him, even though they know it was me, and everything falls silent.

Seconds tick by, and finally my escort steps up to the microphone, thanks the crowd for attending, and ushers me back into the Justice Building.

Hunching down into a chair, I hug the bear to my chest and stare down at my shoes, waiting for the embarrassment to fade. The whole country will watch these presentations, and I can't even talk without being awkward.

When another person walks through the door, I assume it's my escort, come to chastise me for stumbling at the end of my speech, but it's not – it's..

For a second, I think it's Savannah.

Without even thinking, I leap up from my chair and walk over to her, still holding tightly onto the teddy bear that was Sav's token.

The girl looks up at me, and the first thing she says is, ”Bubble boy,” and I'm gone again, so gone, thrown back in time to relive the Games as if they happened yesterday.

My eyes widen at the words, and I reach out and gently touch her chin before I can stop myself.

”You look just like her,” I say, pulling my hand back after a second. ”Sorry, didn't mean to..” I trail off, silent once more.