When The Canary Sings

And Haymitch Wasn't There To Yell

First Person: Becca Blue

Two months have passed with me as a victor. So far, the Capitol has left me alone. Every Friday and Saturday, Will and I would perform in the Hob. No one ever gets bored.

I visit Haymitch every afternoon to make sure he is actually alive, usually he is passed out with a knife clutched in his hand. While I'm there, I like to drop off some bread and eggs, along with candies.

Will comes through my window every night, we sit and talk until one of us falls asleep. If he falls asleep, I let him stay. If I fall asleep first, he tucks me under my covers and silently takes his exit. On those nights, I am free of nightmares.

Haymitch likes to yell at me and Will, telling us stupid things like three feet apart, or "get your filthy, coal-dust covered, hands off my victor!" When Will is carrying me. After we perform, he tells us to stop making lovey eyes at each other during the love songs. We just laugh it off because number one, we're just friends. Two, I only like him as a friend, and three, we make the 'lovey eyes' at each other for show!

I tell Haymitch he's paranoid, he tells me I'm stupid. 

~~~

"Haymitch?" I call, pounding on his door. I had a basket of bread and two bottles of milk. I wore a knee length blue dress with small white polka dots. It fell just before my knees, and was buttoned up, and had a collar around my neck. My guitar hung around my back as I stood pounding at the door. Will stood next to me, trying to fix his wrinkly shirt.

"I can hear you talking!" I yelled, getting annoyed. The summer sun was just dipping below the horizon as I stood, banging on his door.

"Maybe he's talking to himself." Will laughs, and I shoot him a playful glare. He raises his hands in mock-surrender.

I twisted the doorknob and walked in myself. "Listen, Haymitch, I brought you milk, and bread, and a pape." I say, looking through the basket, "so get up and open the damn do–"

I stop and silence myself when I see he is huddled up in the kitchen corner, talking on the phone. I hadn't used my phone yet, but I was excited to.

Will and I watch him talk quietly and mumbles to the person on the other line. When he finally looked up, he shooed us away. Will and I gave him a look, and gingerly walked into his living room, plopping ourselves down on the couch. Well, Will did, I was too worried about the phone call. Something about him shooing us away, the quiet whispers, the back and forth. It set off a bad feeling.

"Becca," Will's voice called me out of my head, "relax, okay? It's probably nothing."

"Just have a bad feeling," I say, taking a seat next to him. I wait, listening to Haymitch mumble into the phone in the other room.

Finally, he stumbles into the living room, he is holding a loaf of bread, one from my basket.

"Who was on the phone?" I ask, immediately standing up. He just shrugs and slumps into a lounge chair across from the couch Will and I sat on.

"Three feet apart," my mentor laughs. Will and I laugh with him. "I'm serious, kid." He says after chuckling. Will shrugs it off, but when Haymitch's face falls flat like stone, Will scoots over. I shoot Haymitch a confused look.

"Haymitch." I say, "the phone.''He shrugs and takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Well," he starts off, "the Capitol, they want to do this thing." He says, sitting up in his chair, "they aren't totally sure yet, but it's something they've never done before. They wanna bring a couple of the big-name victors over and have a show." He said, "they want you two to perform."