If it was Peeta's fault that I lost my temper this morning, then no one was going to know. If it was more about how Buttercup had bitten into my favorite hunting shoes, then everyone who was within a ten-mile radius was about to hear me.
We had just started packing boxes and moving what little clothes we had into the house, and Buttercup, malicious cat that he is, figured it would be his best chance. I can't understand how his mind works, but if there is any indication the cat knew what he was doing, I will shoot an arrow through his unusually large cat brain.
I can hear my mother calling from the other room. "Katniss, will you bring my sweater over to the house for me? My hands are full, and it's the last one left."
"Fine," I respond distractedly. I was still plotting when she came into the kitchen and asked me what I was staring at.
"Nothing," I tell her.
She walks through the front door without saying anything.
Ever since I came back, things have been a little more forced. My mother is trying to make up for her first year without my father, but I can tell that she still has a shard in her heart from when I volunteered for Prim. I constantly wonder if she ever clocked out on her, but I would never ask. Just thinking about it makes me bitter, too.
The occasional moments when I trade with his father, sometimes I catch a glimpse of Peeta sitting behind the counter of the bakery. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of me, too. When we catch each other, I never wait to see if he looks away.
After standing at the window for a good fifteen minutes, I grab the sweater and head over to the Village.
I pass by so many houses, but only one piques my interest.
Seeing his house reminds me that I still haven't gone hunting with Gale, and it's been a week since I've been back. I can't say that I've been knocking down doors to go see him, but neither has he. I see Hazel putting up a bunch of clothes on her clothesline and I walk over to help her.
"Katniss." Hazelle nods at me. She seems surprised to see me.
"Hazelle," I say, with a small smile. I pick up a shirt and put it on the line. Things are usually like this. I help her out, but never with much conversation. She understands.
When we finish, she gives me a thanks and I head out.
I walk past the village square, past the baker's, past the arch over the entrance to the square. The trail to the Village is short, but I slow down sufficiently so that it takes much longer. Haymitch will be in his house, two down from mine, drinking, no doubt. I listen to the tall grass swish in the wind as I continue on my way.
I step onto my front porch, and I hear, "Do you need any more help unpacking?"
I look up and see Peeta staring at me with a mixture of courtesy and distance and caring.
I must have looked confused, because he says, "I saw your mom come in with a bunch of boxes."
"No, I don't need your help. We're all done." I respond curtly.
"Okay. Well, if you need anything, just stop by," he seems to be trying to cover the pleading tone in his voice.
"Maybe," I say, trying to keep myself from blushing.
I curse myself for how quickly easily he makes me flustered. But isn't that how it's always been?
He walks away, back to his house. And I stand there, the whole time, watching over him.
Hello, all you lovely readers! I don't know if this is much of an ending, but it's just an attempt to be more in-tune to Katniss's character. Reviews are always appreciated, constructive criticism and all!