#ch3.

There are things they should be doing. Talking to Gage most of all, probably. Sitting with Wren, even if it’s just to hold her hand. They’re not doing them, though, and they couldn’t say why.

It feels like the hijacking’s changed everything, though they can’t say exactly how, what they think is going to happen next. Maybe Wren or even Gage—their older brother, seven years older than Hudson—would look at them like they know things, like they should have answers, because they’ve been to the Capitol, they’ve seen the Districts, they’ve lived through the Games. And all they want to do, instead, is be a child. Look to someone, themself, for the answers they don’t have.

They’ve always looked to Griffin for that, even when he’s told them, over and over again, that he doesn’t have the answers Hudson seeks. They can’t help but look to him still.

“The Rebellion,” they say. They don’t think they’ve said those words out loud before, even though they’ve thought them. During their Victory Tour. Looking into Teal Pitsmith’s cold gaze in Snow’s mansion. Griffin must have felt it, too. “It’s real.”

The train stops. The announcement comes. Hudson watches Fava’s hands move, translating for Wren. Hudson’s own hands feel heavy in their lap, and they have ever since Wren was Reaped—they’ve been learning, but not fast enough, not for everything that’s happening now, the heavy things that they would say if they could.

They wonder if they should feel rescued. If these Rebels, the faceless voice over intercom, will actually keep them safe from the Games. Keep Wren safe. Keep Gage safe. Make it so Hudson doesn’t have to choose. (Though everyone, including their own brother, knows that they’ve already made their choice.)

Really, though, what they feel like is a pawn. They’re still being moved, only now it’s by hands on the other side of the board.

“Fava—” they say, unsure if they should feel hopeful or afraid, looking to her for her answer. “Do you think this could be the answer? Can they—” (whoever this they may be) “—really keep everyone out of the Games?”

They haven’t ventured outside of Twelve’s car much. They didn’t want to leave everyone there alone; they didn’t want to be alone. But curiosity pulls them out. And, almost immediately, into Swann.

There was something about Swann Meture. After Snow’s party, Hudson hadn’t known what to make of her. She seemed to come on too strong, know too much; Hudson couldn’t be sure if she was the carrot to Teal Pitsmith’s stick—a trap, a threat, just a different kind. But maybe they were too quick to discount her. Learning the wrong lessons: so sure they were too quick to trust that they became too quick to be suspicious instead.

They remember what she said to them—stay close to your people—and, in retrospect, it sounds like good advice. And, if the rebellion is real, then that means that people they’ve met must be involved in it. Maybe they can find them, if they just look.

She’s bent over something. A drawing. From what Hudson can see of it, it might be the train. “Are you—” they ask, but the words are hard to find. “What’re you doing?”