Everything Will Be Okay

Chapter 1:

Katniss' POV.

He's dead. He's been dead for three days. It doesn't feel right, waking up and expecting him to be there. I have to remind myself every day that he was killed. The mines killed him.

Mama hasn't spoken since he died. Hasn't even moved. Prim is starving. I'm starving too, but I don't care about myself. Prim doesn't deserve this. If I can't get Mama to do something, I'll have to give her to someone else.

Maybe Greasy Sae will take her in. Papa always said Greasy Sae would take in any and every stray.

But Prim isn't a stray.

I crawl over to where Mama sits, looking out of the window, her face devoid of emotion. "Mama." I shake her gently. "Mama, please. Say something." No response. I sigh. Maybe tomorrow. "Mama, I'm going to go see if I can find something to eat." I wait to see if she responds. She doesn't. I kiss her cheek and grab my shabby jacket. Prim's sleeping, so I hurry out before she wakes up and begs to come with me.

I blink as the bright snow blinds me momentarily. The Seam is crowded with women and their children. Women offering their service and goods for almost any amount of money or food. They're not Papa. They don't know that they can bargain.

I walk aimlessly. I only have two options. Begging or digging through the trash. There's nothing for me in the Seam. No one has enough to feed themselves as it is. They won't be able to spare any. And they don't throw anything out.

So, I have to go to town. It'll get me nowhere, I'm sure. The merchants hate Seam kids. It doesn't matter that my mother was merchant at one time. That just makes it worse. But I have no other choice. It's either starve to death or swallow my pride and beg for food.

I make my way into town. I hesitate before walking up to the shoemaker's door step and knocking. A blond man with a blonde girl about my age in his arms opens the door. He looks dismayed when he sees me.

"What do you want?" He asks gruffly.

I fidget around and stare at my shoes as I drag my toe across the ground. "I was wondering . . ."

"Speak up, girl. I cain't hear ya."

I clear my throat and look up at him. "I was wondering if you could spare something to eat. Anything. Please, sir, I beg you."

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I ain't got much." Before I can say anything else, he shuts his door in my face. I sigh and walk on.

A dozen buildings later – and still nothing to eat – I come to the bakery. I don't bother knocking on the door. They'll just say no. I walk to the back and start filing through the trash. There's not much except for moldy bread. I'm tempted to take it and just scrape the mold off when a hand jerks me away and throws me to the ground.

"Ow . . ." I cry.

"How dare you, you stupid little—" The woman advances towards me, and I recognize her as the baker's wife, Mrs. Mellark. I had almost forgotten Papa had traded with Mr. Mellark after hunting.

"I'm sorry! I'm just hungry."

She jerks my arms and leans closer to my face. "Oh, you're hungry, are you? So you thought you could just come here and steal our food, you little brat?"

"It's in the garbage! You obviously weren't going to eat it." I don't know why I'm talking back to her. I should run. I should get away from her. But I don't.

She slaps me, hard. I fall back against the hard, cold dirt and vaguely note that someone must shovel all of the snow somewhere else. Anger stirs in me. How dare she hit me? Who does she think she is?

I sit up and glare at her, staring straight into her eyes. "Does it make you feel better, hitting someone who can't hit back? Your family must love you."

Hatred smolders in her eyes, but I see I hit a nerve. "Get out of here, brat. I better never see you here again, or I'll . . ."

I stand up and walk away. I plop down by a tree and watch her as she walks back into the bakery. And then I cry.

I cry for Prim. For myself. For Mama. For Papa. Papa's dead, and now we will be too. Maybe starving won't be too painful. Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe it won't hurt too badly.

Or maybe I could make Prim drink too much of Mama's medicines. It'd be a fast and painless death for her. I don't want her to suffer. She's suffered enough.

If only I could make it to twelve. Then I could take tesserae. It'd be something.

"Um . . . hi."

I'm startled from my thoughts and I look up to see Peeta Mellark standing over me, shuffling his feet and staring down at the ground. I blink in confusion and then realize he's probably here to throw me out of town. Who knows what his mother sent him to do.

"Okay," I sigh, "I'm leaving. You don't have to yell at me."

He shakes his head. "No, no!" I raise an eyebrow and shrug.

"Then why did you come out here, then? For a nice little chit-chat?"

He bites his lip and stares up at the sky. "Uh, no. Actually, I wanted to invite you into the bakery."

I stare at him blankly. "Excuse me?"

He nods furiously.

I fold my arms and glare. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"No! It isn't. My dad wants you to come inside and get warmed up. He says you look cold."

I raise my chin. "I'm not cold."

He looks almost pleading now. "Could you please just come in? My dad wants to apologize for my mom. She's . . . well, she's not the nicest person."

"Oh, believe me," I scoff, "I know."

"I'm sorry she slapped you," And he does appear to be awfully contrite.

I shrug. "It's not your fault."

He nods. "Yeah, but still. Can we please make it up to you?"

I'm starting to cave in. "But . . . what about your mom?"

"She left. Went out the back door and down the street to stay with her sister. She said . . . well, I won't repeat what she said."

I give in. "Okay, but only for a minute."

The delight on his face is worth it, anyway.