The weeks passed with surprising normalcy as I settled into Jake Thompson's life. Each day, Jake's memories became more accessible, less like watching someone else's life and more like recalling my own experiences.
My hands remembered the rhythm of the forge, my feet knew the paths through town, my mouth formed easy responses to neighbors I'd supposedly known my whole life.
I'd managed to strike a balance between Jake Carter's consciousness and Jake Thompson's identity—using my knowledge of this world cautiously while embracing the skills and relationships of my new body.
No one seemed to suspect I wasn't the same person who'd collapsed with fever six weeks ago, though my mother occasionally gave me curious looks when I used turns of phrase that must have been more Carter than Thompson.
It was a gray Tuesday morning when the posters went up around the square. I was delivering a set of repaired kitchen knives to Greasy Sae at the Hob when I saw the Peacekeepers hanging the large, Capitol-produced announcements.
MANDATORY ATTENDANCE
VICTOR'S TOUR
73RD ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES VICTOR
WADE RANKINE - DISTRICT 2
THIS SUNDAY AT 2 PM - DISTRICT SQUARE
A memory surfaced—last year's Games, watching the collective exhale of relief in the Thompson household when both District 12 tributes died in the initial bloodbath. Quick deaths were considered merciful here.
"Not much of a celebration," Greasy Sae commented as she tested the edge of one of the knives I'd delivered, her wrinkled face set in its perpetual scowl. "Just another reminder."
I nodded, keeping my voice low despite the lack of Peacekeepers nearby. "That's the point, isn't it?"
She gave me a sharp look, then a grudging nod of approval.
Not all town kids recognized the Victor's Tour for what it was—not a celebration but a deliberate reinforcement of the Capitol's power, parading the lone survivor before the families of those who died.
"Your father's work is good as always," she said, changing the subject as she handed me a small pouch of coins. "Tell him I've got some wild turkey if he's interested in trading later this week."
"I will," I promised, tucking the payment away.
As I made my way back through the Hob, I studied the people around me with new eyes. In a few months, this place would be burned to the ground by Head Peacekeeper Thread. These people—the old woman selling hand-knit socks, the man with the missing arm trading moonshine, the young mother bartering berries for medicine—would lose their livelihoods or worse.
Should I warn them? Could I somehow change that outcome?
No, I decided reluctantly. Any significant deviation might prevent the rebellion that would eventually free Panem. I had to let events unfold, however painful.
Back at home, my family was already discussing the upcoming Victor's Tour.
"We'll need to close the shop early on Sunday," my mother was saying as I entered. "And wear our good clothes. They always have the cameras panning over the crowd."
My father grunted in acknowledgment, his face grim. He hated these Capitol spectacles more than most, though he was careful to hide it from anyone outside our family.
"Can I wear my blue dress?" Lily asked, too young to fully grasp the somber nature of the event.
"Yes, dear," my mother replied. "And Jake will wear his good shirt—the one with the proper collar."
I nodded, finding the memory of the outfit—one of the few pieces of clothing Jake owned that wasn't practical workwear, saved for Reapings and other mandatory appearances.
"Will the Victor be handsome?" Lily asked innocently. "Nora Weber says he's the most handsome victor ever, even more than Finnick Odair."
My father's face darkened. "Lily, we don't talk about victors that way."
I understood his reaction immediately. Attractive victors often faced a fate worse than death—sold by Snow to wealthy Capitol citizens, their bodies a commodity just like the resources from their districts. If the rumors about this victor were true, he was already experiencing that particular horror.
"I was just asking," Lily said, lower lip trembling at our father's harsh tone.
I intervened, putting my arm around her small shoulders. "Dad just means that victors have been through terrible things, squirt. It's not polite to talk about them like they're characters in a story."
She leaned against me, nodding solemnly. "I'm sorry."
My father's expression softened. "It's alright, Lily-flower. Just remember, the Capitol's cameras will be watching on Sunday, so we all need to be on our best behavior."
The warning was clear—say nothing, show nothing that could be interpreted as dissent.
Sunday arrived with unusual quiet in the district. No one worked. No one traded. The only sounds were people slowly making their way to the square, dressed in their finest clothes, which for most still meant patched and faded garments.
Our family walked together, Lily between my parents, me trailing slightly behind. The square had been transformed overnight—a stage erected before the Justice Building, banners with Capitol seals hanging from every available surface, television crews adjusting their equipment.
Peacekeepers directed everyone into the marked viewing areas—merchant families to one side, Seam families to the other, maintaining the district's division even in this moment of supposed unity. I caught a glimpse of Katniss and her family, little Prim looking tiny and fragile beside her protective older sister. How could the Capitol even consider sending children like her into an arena to die?
The mayor stood nervously on the stage beside our district's only living victor, Haymitch Abernathy, who swayed slightly, clearly already drunk. A third chair sat empty, waiting for the guest of honor. A sad man. But strong.
At precisely two o'clock, a sleek black car pulled up to the square—a jarring sight in our coal-dust district where vehicles were rare. The crowd fell silent as the Victor emerged, flanked by Capitol attendants.
I'd only seen him on screen before, but in person, he was even more striking—darker skinned, tall and strong. His face wore the carefully neutral expression all victors seemed to master, a mask that revealed nothing of the trauma beneath.
The formalities began—the mayor's rehearsed speech, the Capitol video about the "glory" of the Games, Wade's brief and clearly scripted words of gratitude to the Capitol.
The entire ceremony was a mockery, pretending these Games were something noble rather than systematic child murder.
Lily fidgeted beside me, clearly bored. I put my arm around her shoulders to keep her still, aware of the cameras constantly scanning the crowd for reactions. The Capitol would edit the footage later, showing only what supported their narrative of a grateful, unified Panem celebrating their victor.
When Wade finished his speech, a gust of wind blew across the square, sending a discarded wrapper skittering across the open space between the Seam and town sections. Without thinking, Lily darted forward to chase it, breaking protocol and the neat rows of spectators.
"Lily!" I hissed, heart hammering, and lunged after her.
She caught the wrapper just as a Peacekeeper turned, his gloved hand reaching for his weapon at the unexpected movement. Pure instinct took over—I pulled Lily behind me, shielding her with my body as I faced the Peacekeeper.
"My apologies, sir," I said quickly, putting on Jake's most charming smile. "My sister was just cleaning up. We want everything to look perfect for our honored guest."
The Peacekeeper paused, then nodded curtly, hand dropping from his weapon.
I turned to Lily, kneeling to her level but keeping my voice light for any nearby microphones. "That was very thoughtful of you, but remember to stay close to me, okay?"
My eyes conveyed the real message: That was dangerous.
She nodded, eyes wide with belated understanding.
As I straightened, I became uncomfortably aware of a camera pointed directly at us, its red light blinking. One of the Capitol film crews had captured the entire exchange.
My stomach dropped as I guided Lily back to our parents, who looked pale with suppressed fear.
"Sorry," I whispered as we rejoined them.
My father said nothing, but his hand gripped my shoulder—both reassurance and warning to be more careful.
The ceremony concluded shortly after, with Wade returning to his car for the journey to the train station and the next district on his tour. As the crowd began to disperse, an unfamiliar Peacekeeper approached our family.
"The boy," he said to my father, pointing at me. "What's his name?"
My father stiffened beside me. "Jake. My son, Jake Thompson."
The Peacekeeper made a note on a small device. "Jake Thompson." He looked me up and down in a way that made my skin crawl. "Good-looking kid. Handled himself well with his sister. Make sure it doesn't happen again."
With that remark, he walked away, leaving us in stunned silence.
"What did he mean?" Lily asked, oblivious to the tension.
"Nothing, dear," my mother said quickly, though her hand trembled as she smoothed Lily's hair. "Let's go home."
The walk back was tense, none of us speaking until we were safely behind the closed door of our house.
"Damn it, Jake," my father finally exploded, his voice low but intense. "What were you thinking?"
"I was protecting Lily," I defended, though I knew I'd made a mistake. "The Peacekeeper was reaching for his gun."
"And now you've been noticed," he said, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "That's the last thing any of us wants."
My mother sank into a chair, face pale. "That Peacekeeper wasn't from our district. He was from the Capitol contingent."
"I'm sorry," Lily said in a small voice, tears welling in her eyes. "It's my fault."
I knelt beside her. "No, squirt. You didn't know. I'm not angry at you."
My father's anger deflated at the sight of his tearful daughter. He sighed heavily, placing a hand on her head. "No one's blaming you, Lily-flower. But this is why we always tell you to be careful at official events. The Capitol is always watching."
That night, after Lily was asleep, I found my parents speaking in hushed tones in the kitchen.
"...shouldn't worry," my father was saying. "He's just one boy in one district. The Capitol has plenty of pretty faces to obsess over."
"But if they do take an interest," my mother pressed, "what then? We've seen what happens to those who catch their eye."
I cleared my throat, and they both jumped, turning to face me with guilty expressions.
"I'm sorry about today," I said. "I wasn't thinking."
My father sighed. "You did what any brother would do. I'd have done the same." He hesitated, then added, "But if you are noticed, Jake, it could be dangerous—for you and for us."
I nodded, understanding the implications. In Panem, standing out was perilous. Anonymity was safety.
"I'll be more careful," I promised. "It probably won't amount to anything anyway."
But as I returned to my room, a nagging worry took root in my mind. I'd interfered in one small moment, protected my sister from potential harm, and now I'd been noted by the Capitol. What if this changed everything? What if, by trying to protect Lily, I'd inadvertently altered the course that would lead to the rebellion?
I fell asleep with these worries circling in my mind, dreaming of cameras following my every move and President Snow's serpentine smile as he added me to his list of useful pawns.
The next morning, my father shook me awake before dawn.
"Get up," he said tersely. "We have work to do."
I followed him groggily to the forge, which he'd already stoked to life. The orange glow illuminated his grim expression.
"Your mother and I have been talking," he said as he handed me a hammer. "If the Capitol does take an interest in you, we need to be prepared."
"Prepared how?" I asked, still disoriented from sleep.
"You need to know how to survive," he said simply. "Really know, not just the basics I've taught you."
For the next hour, he didn't teach me blacksmithing but survival—how to identify which Peacekeepers could be bribed, which would shoot you on sight. How to tell if you were being followed. How to hide emotions from Capitol cameras.
"I don't understand," I said finally. "Why are you telling me all this now?"
My father picked up a piece of iron, examining it in the firelight. "Because I've seen the way the Capitol works, Jake. They notice someone—maybe for their looks, maybe for a skill, maybe just by chance—and then they use them. If they've noticed you..." He shook his head. "I just want you to be ready."
The worry in his eyes made my stomach clench. He truly feared that my small moment of protection might have far-reaching consequences.
"It was just a few seconds on camera," I said, trying to reassure him—and myself. "And only because I was protecting Lily."
He only stared me down and simply replied, "It doesn't take much, Jake."