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If anyone had asked, Haymitch would’ve said that he wasn’t fit to be a mentor—that he was hardly capable of taking care of himself on the best days. And everyone would have agreed, halfhearted disagreements or not.
For 23 years, he led two kids through the Capitol. None came home.
For 22 years, he was an abrasive alcoholic who had nothing to lose. His family dead and gone, and his community stolen from him by decades of loss and trauma.
And then Katniss Sweetheart Volunteered.
And she was abrasive and cold and waspish and mean. But a Volunteer? From an outlier District? That would make her a wildcard. One the Capitol would want to watch—want to root for.
And maybe he had hope that he could, just this once, bring a kid out of the Arena.
He hadn’t planned on bringing them both home—truthfully, he doesn’t think Peeta the Boy even thought he’d make it out, “rule change” be damned. The Gamemakers and Snow certainly only planned on one of them coming out alive, leaving the other a broken mess (as all Victors are designed to be). But Sweetheart clearly had other plans.
And now, now he has to work on keeping the two kids—and their families—alive, or else Snow will take everything away from him again.
And all of that might have been okay, or at least expected, had his kids truly been Star-Crossed Lovers. Had Sweetheart been able to express anything more than anger and fear. Had his friends across the Districts not been whispering about berries and birds and long-forgotten bunkers.
But, no one could say that Haymitch was especially lucky.
No one thought that Haymitch was smart enough to lead a rebellion against the Capitol.
No, no, his only job, just like before, was to guide a (scared, broken, traumatized) child into the arms of a bloodthirsty “president.” Make them camera-ready and likable enough for the Sponsors no, Coin the rebels to support.
And maybe, just maybe, he could have done that had both his Victors been there.
But Sweetheart was the only one who made it out. And they were trying to put her in front of the cameras as if she’s ever been—could ever be—“camera-ready.” As if she had ever been able to act or follow orders in her life.
And then the Boy returned—more broken than ever—and Sweetheart ran to District 2, in an obvious attempt to bury her grief or die trying.
He knew what Coin was doing when she sent the Boy to the Capitol. He was about to lose his kids again, and there was nothing he could do.
Prim was gone. Prim was gone, the Boy was still lost, and for all intents and purposes, Sweetheart was left without a life vest.
But he knew that she’d never support a new Hunger Games—not with Capitol children, not even with grown adults. He knew, despite how cold and heartless she seemed, she’d never want that.
She was up to something. And, if it was even half as rebellious as any of her stunts had been, he’d need to be there to get her out of it.
He should have guessed she’d kill Coin.
If anyone had asked, Haymitch would’ve said that he wasn’t fit to be a mentor.
But no one else was willing to stand up for his kids. No one else was willing to watch out for them and keep them from killing themselves.
So, apparently, he’s going to have to keep playing this role for a little while longer.