Title: A Lecture on Behavior
Rating: K+
Summary: Effie was unhappy with the children's behavior.
Prompts: #14 Peeta and Katniss need babysitters last minute, Effie and Haymitch are the only options; #16 Food fight!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
Two pairs of guilt stricken eyes gazed down on the messy floor, not daring to look upon the face of their fuming guardian. The little girl, her azure eyes starting to glaze with tears, bit her lip and fidgeted with the tip of the intricate knot that held her mousy hair together. Her name was Freesia – after a lovely blossom her mother adored during pregnancy. The boy with flaxen hair was her younger brother, Pan – a bread-related name given by his father. He stood beside his sister, gray eyes scanning the floor and the corners of the room, taking in every bit of stain they had inflicted on the once pristine linoleum. There were similar stains on the walls (salad dressing, sticky apple pie, and stroganoff were dripping, the mixture of smells wafting towards his tiny freckled nose) but he daren't avert his gaze, lest he be met with his aunt's furious glare. He wondered if the marks of their wasted lunch would ever come off.
"If your parents were here," the woman said, her voice was high and everyone else gritted their teeth to ease the irritation it caused their ears, "I am sure they would be very disappointed. Look at yourselves and look at the dining room. It is an unholy mess! And how could you have it in your hearts to waste the food that was lovingly prepared for you? Why I never – "
No one was really listening to her anymore. Pan's thoughts managed to drown out the irksome voice of the woman. He glanced sideways, taking a look at his older sister – messy with blots of pie and stroganoff – who was curling her toes. Her slippers were taken off because he had mercilessly poured some Orange juice on them. He wondered why Freesia was so nervous. At age nine, she should be more composed. Why, he was only seven, yet he did not move around like a nervous cat.
Freesia continued to fidget with the tips of her hair, all the while wondering how their parents would react. Their father was forgiving; he would look at the mess they've made and laugh, half-heartedly scolding them while his shoulders shook with glee. But then she thought about their mother, the legendary Mockingjay, and understood that they would be rightly punished for what they have done. Wasting food on food fights and messing up the dining room was a weighty offense.
"I don't even think I can face your parents when they arrive home this evening," the woman went on and on with the lecture, unaware that no one was taking it to heart. "I feel like I am alone in this task of taking care of you, children."
The words 'home this evening' reverberated in Pan's mind. They had time to fix things as best they could, if only their beloved Auntie would stop talking and allow them to clean up the mess. But it's just like what their uncle had told him once: 'Your auntie talks a lot because she doesn't really know what to do.'
The truth is neither of the two adults knew what to do. They were not very good at taking care of children. In fact, Peeta and Katniss would not put Freesia and Pan under the care of the dysfunctional duo, were it not for a sudden phone call from District 2. The couple had no choice but to put the children under the supervision of the vivacious Aunt Effie, and the drunk and sullen Uncle Haymitch. They did surprisingly well. Effie was always on her feet, looking out for the kids' well-being; fussing over trivial things, like hygiene and manners. Haymitch, on the other hand, was trusted to make the children laugh and get them out of sticky situations. Whenever Effie was being too strict, he came to their rescue by causing diversions – from whispering insults to giving animated and insincere (or so he says) compliments; both would turn her beet red, either from irritation or delight.
However, Haymitch could not be relied on anymore. He was slouched beside the girl, Freesia, while scratching his nose and picking on the vegetables on his hair. Effie finally took notice and shifted her attention from the children to the older man.
"And you."
Her lips were pursed, hands placed on her hips. Her blue eyes burned as she glowered at him. She was strict as the bun on her hair was tight. It was his fault, after all. All hell broke loose when he teasingly put a tremendous amount of pie stuffing on Pan's face.
"You were supposed to be taking care of the children with me, instilling values in them. Instead, you influenced these darling, innocent children with your barbaric ways."
Effie spat out the word 'barbaric', hoping that it would make Haymitch flinch. But he paid her no mind. Instead, he picked up a slice of ruined pie on the floor, and examined it. She crinkled her nose and was about to give him a piece of her mind (as if she hadn't done enough of that) when a tiny voice interrupted.
"Are we gonna get in big trouble with mom and dad?" Freesia's voice was uncertain.
The scowl on Effie's face disappeared, the crease on her brow softened. The angry mask she put on was replaced with a motherly one. She knelt beside the little girl, tilted her chin up, and wiped the spots of stroganoff away. She pulled out the bits of vegetables that were stuck on her dark, braided hair. A sigh escaped her lips. The escort felt like a villain; an old Capitolian villain who scared off District kids with her outbursts over the most inconsequential things. She realized that they were children. Children were allowed to run wild once in a while, just for fun. But she was raised in a place where no child was allowed to look messy, lest they be judged by their neighbors. That place is gone. The ones standing in front of her are the future. And she felt privileged because she was given the opportunity to impart something of value to them. But she suddenly felt like she had wasted that chance. What if they were absolutely terrified of her? A tug on the sleeve brought the former escort out of her reverie. It was Pan, his silver eyes were apologetic.
"Are you still mad at us, Aunt Effie?" the boy asked innocently.
"How could I stay mad at you two adorable things," she replied sweetly, and then she pulled both children into a hug, which they returned generously.
Haymitch watched the scenario unfold and he could not help but grin. Effie Trinket was anything but maternal, yet there she was, hugging two very dirty children, not minding the traces of food that sullied her hair and clothes.
"And what do you have to say for yourself, Haymitch?" she suddenly said. She had finally let go of the children.
He thought about it for a moment, his hands still playing with the slice of pie he picked up from the floor.
"Listen, Effie," he said, "I know I started it. I messed up the house and the cute little brats, but-"
"I understand," Effie sighed, "it's good for children to have fun and get a little messy once in a while. However, I do hope that food will not go to waste the next time it happens. I thought you, of all people, would know what a valuable commodity food is."
"Sorry," Haymitch said sheepishly, "It won't happen again."
Effie nodded appreciatively.
"Good," she said, "I'm glad we finally came to an understanding."
The former mentor smiled and opened his arms wide.
"Great! Now, come and let me give you a hug, princess."
She rolled her eyes and walked towards Haymitch and allowed him to envelop her in his arms, not minding the huge stroganoff stain on his shirt, and the pie on his hand. That was until he smudged the accursed thing on her hair. The filling oozed out and Effie could only stare at Haymitch in horror. He let go of her and savored the look of utter shock on her face.
"Well, sweetheart," he was grinning, "we better start cleanin' up before them kids get into trouble with our favorite Mockingjay."