Kitchen duty, 7:30.
"Prim…I mean, ahem, Citizen Everdeen, would you take these dirty towels to the laundry room?" Greasy Sae…Citizen Sae now, in District 13...hands me a couple dirty towels. She glances over at Rory and adds, "Why doesn't Ro…Citizen Hawthorne go with you?"
Technically Greasy Sae has no proper authority in District 13, but in the kitchens she can boss around anyone on kitchen duty as much as she likes. Only for the younger siblings of some of her best customers back at the Hob before everything fell apart - and for the younger sister of someone so broken down as Katniss is now - does she make the orders into kindnesses.
Rory and I walk through the halls and down the stairs to the laundry in silence. It feels good to be silent somehow. District 13 is such a organized place that there's hardly any quiet time except for Reflection at 18:00. The silence between Rory and me isn't an awkward silence, either. Before, it would have been, but now after all we've been through together, we don't need to talk.
"We'd better hurry," Rory says as we near the laundry. "Miss…I mean Citizen…Ackley will scold us if we're not in the Education Center on time."
"Miss Ackley? The people who are in charge of all this will scold her if she doesn't reprimand us," I say. We are extremely fortunate to have our old teacher Miss Ackley still teaching us. She survived the bombing of District 12 well, being the no-nonsense kind of person she is. She's in charge of the Education Center Section for the children ages 12-14, which is where me and Rory fall into, both being 13. As if I feel like I am only 13. Since the reaping I feel like I have grown several years at least.
"Right," Rory says.
"I'll probably be needed in the hospital wing later on," I say. I don't mean to be boastful, but it sounds like it.
But Rory doesn't take it that way. He smiles wistfully. "I wish I could do something really useful like that, Prim. You know, instead of just feeling like I'm in the way?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I say. "Even though I'm doing my work in the hospital, I sometimes feel like I'm in the way too. I know that nobody thinks that, they would never think of us…our older siblings being…who they are…as in the way…but…" I trail off, unable to express what I'm trying to say. "It's just so different here." I don't voice the hope, the dream I have. The first dream I've ever had that seems like it could come true.
That of becoming a doctor.
I can tell that the doctors are watching me sometimes, and I even overheard one talking to Mama about having me take medic courses. I'm already like a junior nurse - more than that, maybe - and even just that makes me have this wonderful feeling. It's more than just that satisfying feeling of being useful. I feel like even now, and especially if I were to train to become a doctor, helping the sick and wounded is my way of helping the rebellion. My way of standing my own ground in all this mess. My way of standing up against the Capitol and saying "You can't kill everyone you try to, because we can bring them back to health."
Well, not all of them.
But doing this work, having this feeling…it helps drown out everything else.
We're at the laundry now. Nobody's in there. We toss the kitchen towels into the cloth basket marked "Kitchen" and are about to leave when Rory grabs my arm.
"What?"
He doesn't reply, just points to the water pipes. I don't see anything.
"What, Rory? What is it?"
He holds a finger to his lips and pulls me closer to the pipes.
"Oh-h…" I let out a cross between a gasp and a sigh. It's Katniss, curled up behind the water pipes, her head resting on her arm and her Mentally Disoriented bracelet up against her cheek. She's sleeping deeply, and she looks peaceful, but I don't dare say she is. Because I know there's a high chance she's not having good dreams.
Something tugs at my heart to see my sister like this, her other arm flopped helpless in the lap of her drab District 13 outfit. She doesn't look like the Katniss who won the 74th Hunger Games, the girl who spun around and giggled for the audience, who was the star-crossed lover of Peeta Mellark. The Katniss who sang to me while she braided my hair, the Katniss who gave me a goat with a pink ribbon tied around the neck for my tenth birthday. She doesn't look like the Katniss who would grin at me as she came in from the woods carrying fresh game. This is not the girl on fire, the girl who was so incredibly strong in the arenas. The arenas that made her like this.
Because Katniss looks so broken. So weak. And not for the first time since we came to District 13, I feel like the tables are turned. Like I am the big sister, and Katniss is the vulnerable little one needing comfort. I kneel down beside her, forgetting about Rory and kitchen duties.
Tentatively I reach out my hand and brush a bit of hair from her forehead, trying to be gentle. My eyes flicker to the Mentally Disoriented on the plastic hospital bracelet, and my stomach turns. Two years ago I never would have imagined that any of this would have happened. Two years ago I was content to help Mama heal her patients, sell my goat's milk, giggle with Ellery and Petra in the schoolyard, look up to my big sister as my hero and forget about the Capitol or The Hunger Games. It's all I thought my life would ever be. Now look where I am. At the side of my beaten-down sister in an underground rebel district with a strict schedule imprinted on my arm and wounded victims of every kind surrounding me. Two years ago I would have been terrified to death if I had known what would happen to me. But now I feel so much braver. So much older.
I feel a surge of anger against the Capitol. This, this is what they have done to you, Katniss. Tears pool in my eyes and I want to just lay down beside her and wrap my arms around her and protect her. For a long moment I feel as vulnerable as she looks, as vulnerable as I used to be. And as I still am, deep down inside. But deep down inside I've got a lot more courage than I used to. Deep down inside I am the sister of the girl on fire. I have some of her bravery.
"Prim?" Rory whispers. I look up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I say. My voice sounds choked. "I just miss her so much. The old Katniss."
"I know. We all do." Rory puts a cautious but gentle hand on my shoulder. "Prim…if you want to stay here with your sister, I can cover for you."
I admit that for a moment I am tempted. Tempted to stay here with Katniss, out of the way, hiding from reality like I know she's doing.
But I know I can't. I have responsibilities, and they're because of Katniss. So I owe it to her to do my duties, to do my duties for her.
"No. I'll come."
I lean down and plant a soft kiss on Katniss's hair.
"Okay," I say, straightening up. "Let's go."
Two years ago I never would have dreamed that I would be here, that we would all go through such life-changing events. But two years ago, I never dared to dream about anything. It was too hard in our oppressed little district to dream of anything. But now I can dream of being a doctor. Now I can dream of Panem being free. Now I can live my life with a true purpose, to fight in my own quiet way for the people of my country.
And it's all because of my sister, my wonderful sister, who, no matter how much she has been pushed and pulled by everyone, started the rebellion. Even if it wasn't consciously. My sister, who no matter how broken-down and "mentally disoriented" she may be, will always be the same Katniss to me, even if she's changed.
I will always love her.