'My Little Canary' Chapter 3

Six years later
Wiress was fed up with people saying how sorry they were. It was all they had done ever since Beetee's name was called, that and tell her she'd get through it.
But he's coming back to me, she wanted to scream at them. Don't you understand? He promised! She'd cried so much that first night she was sitting here now, waiting for the Games to begin, completely dry-eyed, something she never thought she'd be. The Arena looked quite good; it was a mountain range with a forest off to the left and the ocean to the right. The ocean. Wiress had never seen the ocean before.
There he was. Rising up on the same platform she'd risen from six years before. They'd been so close, so close to forever. Now they were going to lose it.
Wiress was alone, crouching on the floor of her sleek, white, chrome Victor's Village house, her eyes glued to the television. Her mother had left to watch on the big screen in the square, uncomfortable and awkward around her distressed daughter.
'He's coming back to me,' Wiress said aloud. The countdown reached those dreaded last five numbers. 'He is,' Wiress repeated. The cannon boomed.



There were three ways you could win the Games, Beetee figured. One was luck, like the ridiculously attractive girl from Seven who'd won because she was swamped with sponsors the year before. There was smarts, which Beetee himself had been counting on to help him along. So far, it was working. He'd bolted from the Cornucopia as soon as the cannon had resounded; only returning to take his pick of the remaining weapons and supplies once the Careers had stalked off to find more victims. Being selective, Beetee had carefully chosen a black knapsack containing a bottle of water, a parcel of crackers, a hunting knife, a box of matches and some painkiller tablets. After that, he'd headed up the mountains where he'd found a cave tucked away out of site where he could safely cook any passing rabbit or goat that unwittingly passed him by without being spotted. Unfortunately, it also gave his a prime spot to watch the Games unfold before him.
The third way that you could win the Games, according to Beetee, was anger. And that route seemed to be playing out in front of him.
The District 9 tributes that year were twins; brother and sister. Beetee had sat with them at lunch during training just because it was fairly obvious none of them would get very far so it was safe to be friendly. The girl was younger by two years; she was fifteen and her name was Fray and the boy was Albert. He was fiercely protective of her and wouldn't let her out of his sight, not for a moment. From the corner of his eye as Beetee fled from the Cornucopia, he'd seen the two of them flee in the opposite direction. The next he'd seen of them was two days later when the Careers had caught up to them. Fray had been killed with a blow to the head with a sword and once that had happened, Albert went mad. He'd killed one Career with his bare hands and then two more with their own weapons as the others escaped as quickly as they could. Beetee had watched him collapse sobbing over Fray then clutch her to him as the hovercraft came to take her away. Following this came the deaths of six of the remaining tributes at the hand of the now hysterical Albert. On perhaps the fourth or fifth day, Albert caught up with the Career who's killed his sister. The girl was hung upside down by her ankle from a tree with a slit in her neck while Albert (and Beetee) watched. Her sobs and pleas broke Beetee's heart but Albert was unflinching. He stared her down until the last moment.
Beetee began to get worried when Albert started climbing up the mountains, a fierce rage burning in his eyes. Beetee packed up his precious supplies and headed further up the mountains, searching out a safe refuge from the death surrounding him. Each night one more cannon would sound and Beetee would count down on his fingers how many tributes remained. Then came the day he was down to two.
Albert tracked Beetee down on the thirteenth day of the Hunger Games. His face reminded Beetee of a rabid dog, snarling and crazy. The axe he clutched was blood stained.
'You killed my sister,' Albert growled.
'No,' Beetee replied, trying to keep his voice steady. 'That wasn't me, Albert.'
'It was!' The boy insisted, swinging wildly out at Beetee. 'All of you! You killed her!' Beetee ducked under his arm and spun out of harm's way. There was no way he could fight this kid with brute force. Intelligence was Beetee's best weapon.
'Die!' Albert shrieked, hacking at the mountain side like a madman. Beetee wondered whether he could slip away from him and wait for Albert to starve. Or fall off the mountain. 'You and your mad little girlfriend!'
Something snapped inside of Beetee. 'What did you say?' He demanded, shoving Albert into the cliff-face.
Albert's mouth broke into a wicked grin, knowing he had him. 'Your mad girl back home,' he repeated slowly. 'She was in the Games once, huh? Makes us all mad, doesn't it?' He tilted back his head and yelled to the sky. 'YOU'VE MADE US MAD!' Beetee didn't know who he was addressing, but Albert suddenly had a burst of energy and pushed Beetee towards the edge. Beetee stumbled and ended up pinned to the floor with Albert on top of him.
'So sad,' Albert hissed. 'You and her. You nearly got back to her, didn't you?' He laughed harshly. 'I guess there's going to be one lonelier person in the world tonight…' He raised his axe.
No!

Beetee thought of Wiress and from nowhere he found strength. Enough strength to kick Albert off him and send him howling off the edge of the cliff. The sound rebounded off the many sides of the mountain until it finally stopped. The announcement was made. Beetee was the Victor.




It was raining. Usually, Beetee liked the rain. It was cleansing, fresh and it gave life to the world. Also, Wiress loved the rain. She'd run out into the garden and twirl around, laughing, the hem of her dress swirling about her knees. Often Beetee would get dragged out too and they would dance together. But today, Beetee was alone and there was no chance of going outside. Today, he was back on the Capitol train, hurtling home at speeds that were unbelievable.
After the Games, Beetee's time in the Capitol had been one long blur, punctuated by brief glimpses into life back in District 3. He learnt how to respond appropriately and speak to the crowd. But all he wanted to go back home. And now it was happening, he was terrified. Not of returning, but of what he'd vowed to himself he'd do.
Before he'd left the Capitol, Beetee had gone to President Snow for a private request. As his latest victor, Snow could hardly refuse and so now Beetee was cradling a tiny velvet box as if it was a butterfly, breakable at any moment. Cautiously, he eased the lid open to reveal the tiny silver ring placed in the middle. Was it strange that he'd memorized the measurement of Wiress' ring finger? Probably. Beetee twisted the ring in his hand and smiled at the engraving inside. 'My Little Canary'

'I'm coming back to you,' he whispered to the rain.