A/N: Thank you for checking out my first venture into fanfiction writing! The story is complete with updates planned for each Monday. I appreciate constructive feedback and hope you enjoy. I, unfortunately, do not own any recognizable Hunger Games characters/situations.
I shift uncomfortably in the stiff plastic chair as I tug at the hem of my skirt, willing it to be just a few inches longer. I wonder then why I let my sister dress me for this interview. She promised I looked professional and smart; just the right winning combination. As there's no one else around in the small reception area, it's hard to judge the truth. Not to mention, my idea of fashion is jeans and a t-shirt with my hair pulled back in a braid. But Prim insisted I let my hair down. She even convinced me I should let her put a few curls in it. I'm certain I recall seeing my mother dressed something like this back when I was ten, which sets my insecurities on high alert. I stare at my hands on my lap and begin to pick nervously at my nails.
I, like the rest of Panem, have been looking for a steady job since the fall and subsequent rebuild of the government several years ago. Odd jobs here and there have kept me from being homeless. Barely.
I work most days (and nights) at a little diner affectionately called, Greasy Sae's, while the well-intended original name has long since been forgotten by its mostly inebriated, stoned, or just-don't-care clientele. Besides a basic need to stay alive, I am determined to provide a better life for my sister, Prim, and our mother.
Which is what brings me to this mostly humiliating moment in time. My friend, Gale, tipped me off about an opening here at Mellark's. Gale's girlfriend, Madge, works in the mail room and mentioned one of the head honchos was looking for a personal assistant. Unfortunately, Gale is often a man of few words, so I had little information to go off of to get me here. I spruced up my resume to include my vast knowledge of customer service (even if the customers are easy to please when they're hungover), and my uncanny ability to multitask (being the sole waitress in a small diner can be tricky), along with my stellar organizational skills (no one else was going to alphabetize the cans and boxes in the pantry, thank you very much). Whatever the case may be, someone liked what they saw and called me for an interview. Although, according to Madge, several dozen able-bodied people have been in and out of the towering office building, not to mention herself, in search of the coveted position. She swears the Devil himself would be easier to impress.
"Katniss Everdeen?"
A shrill female voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up to see an impeccably dressed woman with her hair piled high atop her head, adorned with several small butterfly clips. She has a number of subtle streaks of hot pink in her blond hair, and lipstick to match. Her lashes are heavy with mascara, and underneath, her eyes land on me and her lips purse. I feel her eyes raking in my appearance. I'm suddenly aware of my too-tight, too-short, too-old outfit that was pieced together from my mom's wardrobe since my argument for pants and a plain top were not compelling enough. According to Prim, it didn't help me "stand out" (her words, not mine). My stomach clenches. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands.
Right now, I would give anything to disappear. Butterfly blond turns abruptly and motions for me over her shoulder with a sharply pointed, well-manicured nail. With no further instruction, my response time is slow, but I jump to my feet before the door she came through has a chance to close. I take the opportunity to give my skirt a quick tug. It's then that I hear a sickening rip and feel the cool air hit the side of my thigh. I feel a rush of heat rise to my cheeks, and quickly glance down to assess the damage. The hem that barely reached the end of my fingertips has now slipped several inches up my right thigh. It's a miracle my under garments aren't showing. I barely register that the blond is talking to me.
"I'm Effie. I'll be showing you around today. Hurry, we have lots to do before we meet with Mr. Mellark. He insists on timeliness!"
If it's possible, her already fast pace quickens and I try to reason how I'm going to fix my skirt quickly in order to downplay my new street walker appearance.
Effie stops abruptly and I nearly slam into her. She frowns slightly as she sees me try to subtly fidget with my clothing. She unceremoniously hands me a hair net and cloth shoe covers. She quickly dons her items and straightens to face the doors in front of her. She smooths her perfectly pressed dress suit and takes a deep breath.
"This is where the fun begins!" She exclaims reverently as she pushes open a set of large double doors.
My senses are assailed with sights and sounds and sweet smells. Beyond that, I'm immediately overwhelmed by the sound of the loud machinery and the whirring of objects being seemingly flung from place to place by a dizzying amount of conveyor belts. I can barely hear Effie as she speaks above the roar.
"Mellark's has been a household name for decades, but of course you know that." She chuckles under her breath.
I did know that actually. We've bought their bread, when we could afford it, since I was a little girl. We even had a special white box on the counter to store it so it didn't spoil as quickly. When my father was alive, he liked to surprise us on holidays with a bag of their cheese buns. Christmas Day meant a loaf of their fruit and nut bread. I was always intrigued by its knotted appearance. Mellark's became synonymous with home. It reminds me of sweeter days when I felt whole.
"Each of the family's beloved recipes is made in-house and distributed throughout Panem." She drones on above the roar as we make our way to the opposite end of the factory. She points and gestures in several other directions as she guides our tour.
I nod dumbly as I follow close behind. I'm admittedly lost in my thoughts of the past when I realize a second too late that Effie has stopped abruptly once again. We bump into one another, and if looks could kill, I'd have been dead ten times over. I mumble an apology under my breath. Effie quickly composes herself after a small shake of her head, fluffs the base of her updo, and wipes the corners of her mouth. Effie begins to remove her hair net and booties. I follow suit and follow her through the steel double doors into a noticeably quieter area of the building. My heeled feet sink into the plush carpet and I try hard not to look too wobbly.
"This is the administrative area of the building." Effie gestures widely with her arms.
As I look around the sizable hallway, I notice dozens of framed photographs, newspaper articles laden with flattering headlines about the company, plaques, magazine covers and awards neatly hung in a pleasing array. No time to stop and look with Effie's breakneck speeds. When I tune in, she's explaining several of the duties I would be responsible for, should Mr. Mellark agree to hire me. Admittedly, I am largely unfamiliar with clerical work, but I know myself to be a quick study. As we round the corner, Effie slows her speed. This time I'm aware of the shift. Her reason for pause gets my attention and I follow her gaze to see two men standing several yards away engaged in a very tense-looking conversation.
Both stand uncomfortably close to one another. The older man plants his pointer finger in the younger man's chest, whispering something along the lines of 'get it together' through gritted teeth. Effie clears her throat to signal our presence in the hopes of breaking up this testosterone-driven moment. Both men turn to see us standing in the hall. The older man plasters a smile on his face and turns toward Effie.
"Effie!" He exclaims, taking several large steps toward us to quickly close the distance. "Who do we have here?" He asks, turning to face me with his still-fake smile.
I steal a glance over his shoulder to take in the defeated looking younger man. I quickly pull my eyes to the man in front of me as Effie introduces us. I abandon my death grip on the side of my skirt as Ryan, or 'Rye-to-his-friends', reaches to shake my hand.
"This is my baby brother, Peeta" Rye tips his head back toward the younger man standing behind him. Peeta does his best to keep his look of annoyance to a minimum as he comes forward to shake my hand as well. I'm struck by his warm, firm grip. He does little to show any enthusiasm toward our meeting and quickly releases my hand. He makes short work of unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
Sensing his younger brother's foul mood, Rye commandeers the conversation with a, "Glad to meet you Katniss. I hope you can finally be the one to meet Peeta's ridiculous demands for an assistant."
He looks sideways at Peeta then leans in and whispers conspiratorially, "He's hard to please".
With a wink, Rye stands upright and gestures toward a door that I'm assuming he'd like us to enter through. Before I can make a move, Effie takes that as her cue to get to work. It seems that she simultaneously holds the door for the three of us, while ensuring enough water-filled glasses are provided and paperwork is evenly distributed to the men sitting across from me at a table that would fill the entirety of my kitchen at home. I feel the seam of my skirt stress and tear even more as I go to sit at the edge of a very plush, black leather swivel chair. My bottom nearly slips off the edge of the slick material. I quickly catch myself and look to see that Peeta has witnessed my clumsiness. I swear I see him stifle a smile and try to compose himself with a sip of water. I feel heat rise to my cheeks once again as I work to bite my tongue, holding in a passive aggressive comment that has no place in a much-needed job interview.
"So, Katniss, tell us a little about yourself" Rye begins as he skims over my meager resume.
I'm really feeling unsettled by how this entire event has gone from beginning until now, but I think briefly of Prim. Imagining her disappointment at the recap of this nightmare, I muster up my confidence and begin, "I'm a very hard worker. Have been my whole life. I'm not afraid to learn new things either."
"That's very original" Peeta chimes in. I detect movement under the table. It would seem Rye planted a swift kick to Peeta's shin judging by the grunt elicited from his clenched mouth.
There's something in his tone that sets my teeth on edge. I look between the two of them, debating if I even want to bother going on. I take a deep breath and resolve to say, "Listen, I know you've seen your fair share of people in and out of here for this job, but I really need this job."
Throwing all caution to the wind, I continue, "You see, I can't afford to put my little sister through school on a waitress's salary, and she deserves all the good things this world has to offer. While my resume may not be the most impressive one you've seen, I won't let you down."
The men look dumbfounded at my revelation. We sit in silence for a moment. I look down to my hands in my lap as Rye hesitantly says, "Thank you for your honesty. We'll be in touch."
I take that as my signal to leave. Standing to wobbly heels, I compose myself quickly and look to both men as I thank them for their time. Peeta's eyes hold mine a second longer than I expect. I stare back with an intensity that I hope conveys my determination. With a nod of my head, I turn to leave. Effie stands beside the door to the conference room.
"This way, Miss Everdeen" she says as she guides me back to the hallway and onto an elevator. "Thank you for your time", she says as she pushes the button to return me to the lobby and steps out from the elevator before the doors have a chance to close. She gives me one last look up and down, before I begin my descent.
As the doors close, I grab a fistful of my hair and let out a growl, cursing the powers-that-be for that unfortunate excuse for an interview.
I've completely blown it. Time to start practicing my speech for Prim.
I make my way out to the street, and as if on auto pilot, I pull my hair back in a braid. Giving one last look to the towering skyscraper beside me, I shake my head and begin my trek to the other side of town, The Seam, as it's affectionately called. Much of The Seam's people are blue-collar. A small group makes the daily commute into the larger part of the city to work in its offices, shops and justice building, but for the most part, families make a living by working in the coal mines.
My family is no exception. My mother worked in the city for a time, while my father kept long hours in the mines. When I came along, my mother resolved to staying home to care for me. I sometimes wonder if she regrets her decision when she looks back on her life. Although, like me, she was willing to make sacrifices for her family. In fact, if I were to claim any one thing I have in common with my mother, it would be her sacrificial spirit. Even though my father's death nearly broke her spirit entirely. His endless hours subjected to inhaling coal dust wreaked havoc on his lungs. He was dead three months to the day after his diagnosis. Lung cancer. I was 16.
I'm met with a soft tinkle of a bell as I pull open the door to Sae's.
"You're late, girl!" I hear Sae call from the kitchen.
"Hey, glad you could join us, Sweetheart!" I hear a familiar voice chide from the far booth to my left. Haymitch. One of the regulars and perpetually drunk.
"Save it, Haymitch." I reply as I dip behind the counter to grab a change of clothes. I hear him chuckle as I hurry to the back room and swiftly remove the source of much of my disdain. Without thinking twice, I pitch the clothes in the nearby trash can and make my way back to the front.
"How'd it go, Katniss?" Hazelle asks as she wipes a spot clean on the counter.
I give her a look that encompasses enough emotion that she knows not to pursue the topic further.
"It couldn't have been that bad" Darius, another regular, remarks.
"No, it was worse" I reply. I proceed to fill in my small audience on the play-by-play of the day. They respond appropriately with sympathetic silence and shakes of their heads.
"You could always help me with my geese!" Haymitch suggests from his seat at the booth.
I roll my eyes and hear Sae from the kitchen say something about me having enough work to do here and that the tables and floors aren't going to clean themselves. I take the hint and get to work, putting the day and its disappointments behind me.
It's a quarter past four when I hear the tinkle of the doorbell and a ray of sunshine enters the diner. Primrose. She smiles happily as our eyes meet and she takes a seat in front of me at the counter. I see the expectation in her gentle blue eyes and solemnly shake my head. She responds quietly with, "That's ok, Katniss. It's their loss."
I smile half-heartedly and fill a cup of water for her as she pulls a number of text books and paper from her accompanying bag.
"This isn't a library, Prim" Sae remarks as she pokes her head around the corner from the kitchen; her permanent residence.
Prim pulls a pleading look and Sae retreats behind the wall without another word. Curious, I pull one of the textbooks toward me and read the title out loud "Introduction to Human Anatomy." I try hard not to sound appalled at the title, which sounds far too intimate and challenging for me to comprehend. I was always an average student in school. I never excelled at anything in particular, but got by unnoticed for the most part.
Prim, on the other hand, really took to school and will often admit that she loves it. It's a good thing too, since becoming a doctor requires many years of her dedication. Our mother had a knack for healing when we were younger. When she worked in the city, it was for a small druggist, preparing medicines and doing minor first aid when necessary. People from our neighborhood would occasionally stop by for help if they couldn't afford the hospital.
"Classes started today, and I want to make sure I'm ready for lecture tomorrow." Prim says matter-of-factly.
I nod knowingly and leave her to it. I keep her cup full of water and force her to take a break at dinner time. By 9:30 I've completed my closing duties and break her from her concentration to pack up and head home. We walk in silence. I don't have the heart to pull Prim from her thoughts. Her head is always in her books, even if she's not reading. I've just pulled my keys from my jacket when I feel an insistent buzzing from my bag. I scramble to find my phone. The number isn't one I know, and given the late hour, I send it to voicemail. As we enter the house, Prim and I greet our mother as she sits nearly catatonic in front of the glowing TV. She utters a hello, but makes no move to get up. I throw my bag and jacket over the chair and begin cleaning up the mess my mother left the kitchen.
For the last ten years since my father's death, she makes it her mission to do the least amount of everything possible to get by. If she takes her pills regularly we can usually get a good streak of motivation out of her, but often these moments are followed by 'the fall out' as I've come to call it. Times where, like now, she abandons whatever work she has started and retreats to a quiet world in front of the television where everything is simple. Judging by the piles of old photographs and photo albums, she was making it her mission to organize the chaos.
I make quick work of piling the photos and putting them back in their respective boxes or books. Several catch my eye as I go about my task. Happier times. Prim and I as children dressed in make believe costumes. Holidays. First days of school. My parents wedding photo. Their love for each other never ceased to amaze me. I always admired them for it, even before I could grasp its depths. Now as an adult I can't even imagine what it must be like to love someone that much, so I don't even try. Love and romance never interested me much. I've had my share of boyfriends, but never once did I feel that 'thing' I'm convinced I will feel if the right person should come along. But who am I kidding? I have no time in my life for going out on dates. I have my family to think of and that's enough.
The buzzing from my bag pulls me from my thoughts. As I reach for my phone I notice I have a voicemail from that same number I didn't recognize earlier. As I push the playback button, I pull the phone from my ear as Effie's shrill voice fills the room.
"Hello Katniss. Effie Trinket calling from Mellark's. Please call me back at this number at your earliest convenience. Any time. I'd like to speak with you about the terms of your employment. Thank you."
I stand transfixed. Did I hear her right? I replay the message. Yes, I definitely heard her correctly. I feel strangely lightheaded. Maybe giddy is the word? I would never use that word to describe myself, but it's the best I can do. How that conversation must've gone after I left intrigues me. Oh, to be a fly on the wall! Without thinking I press the button to dial the number Effie called from. After two rings, I suddenly realize the time and go to hang up.
"Effie Trinket speaking!" Comes her cheerful trill.
"Hi, Effie. It's Katniss. I apologize for the late call..." I begin lamely.
"Don't be silly, Katniss. I'm always so busy I rarely get a chance to sleep." She chortles back. "I'm delighted to hear from you. Both Ryan and Peeta would like you to start as soon as possible. Does tomorrow morning at eight work?"
She rattles off these words and my mind swirls to put it all together.
"Uh, sure" I stutter dumbly. "I'll be there tomorrow."
"8 AM sharp." She confirms. I'm about to say goodbye when she interjects, "And Katniss... attire with a bit more fabric if you will, please?"
With that the phone switches off. I feel heat rising to my cheeks again. I sit down quietly in a kitchen chair, staring at the lines in the floor.
"Everything ok, Katniss?" Prim's voice shakes me from my thoughts.
"I got the job" I manage to push out just above a whisper.
"What?" She asks, coming closer. I look her in the eye and repeat my unexpected and joyful news. She shrieks and bends down to hug me. With a quick clap of her hands she stands and looks preoccupied with her thoughts. She starts muttering under her breath about picking out an outfit for me as she turns and heads toward our bedroom. Realization dawns on me about what happened last time she was left alone to dress me, so I quickly give chase.