Chapter 2—Reunions

KATNISS

Once I finally get some time to myself, away from Effie—for once, I begin to ponder about the new songwriter. Though I get to choose who it is, I'm still frustrated that Effie didn't tell me about firing Cato earlier. Heck, I think I would've enjoyed doing it myself.

The one problem that's really nagging me is time. Would we have enough time to get fifteen songs together for the album? I mean, this album is my make or break album. If it sells, then I'll surely be a hit, and/or at least attract enough publicity to earn more money in my next album. But if this album sucks…I don't even want to think about getting dropped by the record company. Right now, the money they're giving me for my contract is enough to get Prim into a good school, and stay there for at least the end of this year. I have to work my best so that the company will want me to tour or make another album. I can't go back to living on the streets again. I can't do that to Prim.

Then his face appears in a memory again.

It was just another shitty day. Unsurprisingly, everyone was walking past me without a second glance. Maybe a few little kids smiled and pointed at me, but it's not like they had any money—let alone some to spare.

I was just about to pack up and leave, return home—or as close to home as we could get—to Prim and give her another talk about how times were hard. I didn't want to do that, I'd stay here for the rest of today if I could, but I didn't feel comfortable leaving Prim alone. And I wouldn't let her come with me either, I didn't want her to see how pathetic it was for her older sister to be at the corner of the street, nearly begging for some money.

I decided to finish this one song—this one song that my dad used to sing with me. It was painful to sing the empty parts by myself. The song didn't sound even a quarter as good as it used to with him. But I needed to sing it, just to remind myself of him and of my mother too. This was her favorite song. To bring back a piece of him, and breathe some life into me.

I closed my eyes for a single moment. Wishing for things to get better, hoping that I could give Prim everything she deserved. When I opened my eyes, I looked inside Prim's childhood hat and there was a fifty-dollar note inside. I was shocked. I looked up to find myself gazing deep into an endless, ocean blue. His eyes, they drowned me. Then it hit me: he gave me a fifty-dollar note.

I hate owing people. And for this stranger to give me such a large amount of money, I knew I was already in debt. But then he just walked away. I made a promise to myself that if I ever saw him again, I'd pay him back and say thank you because those words didn't manage to escape my lips at the time.

"What's that face for, sweetheart?" Haymitch caught me. After firing Cato, the rest of the day resumed with me doing random errands around the studio. Picking out certain samples, planning advertising, choosing charity concerts to sing at. Same old, same old. I realize that I hadn't seen Haymitch around the studio much.

It's a little strange because I know that Effie is my publicist…even though she doesn't exactly act like it and can act like my boss twenty-four seven, but Haymitch… I actually don't know what his actual job is. If I had to guess, I'd say that he helps out with producing my music and such. Well, I'd choose him and whatever he does over Effie any day, no matter how important she is. But I will admit that she's efficient and gets the jobs done.

"Oh. I know that face. That's you're thinking slash scowling face." He squints his eyes at me and rubs his chin in deep thought, trying to figure me out. I just glare at him and then give him a scowl.

"You're worried about the songwriter aren't you?" He gives me a soft smile. He just knows me way too well. Maybe it's because we're too alike. "Why are you worried about such a small thing?" He guffaws, "You even get to choose the person."

"I know that." I hiss in response.

"Ah, I get it. I agree with you, sweetheart." He nods with his eyes closed and a closed stance. I look at him with a perplexed expression. Is it possible that he's slightly drunk?

"What?" I ask him.

"You're thinking about time. I agree with you, it's a little troublesome to get a new songwriter with only a few months left till the release date. I'm not quite sure what's going on in Effie's head." We both start laughing at that one. I think we're the only two people in the studio who actually say what we think about Effie aloud. Everyone else—including many grown men—are scared out of their wits of her, even though not all of them will admit it.

"I think my head is perfectly capable don't you think?" A voice booms behind us. We turn around to find a very peeved Effie Trinket. We're in deep crap now.

"Of course, Effie, we think you're perfectly fine." Haymitch says without any conviction. He laughs a little awkwardly and rubs the back of his head.

"Haymitch." She says with as much frost as an arctic glacier, "I expect this from her," she takes a moment to point at me without even bothering to give it a second thought, "but not from you! You're a grown adult, not some irresponsible teenager. You shouldn't be rousing such despicable behavior from her!"

Haymitch rolls his eyes and gives me a look that says kill me now. I completely avoid the whole thing as he walks away, again, saving me from Effie's destruction again. I think he's aiming for another free bottle of wine.

"And you." Effie turns around to glare at me. "Don't think you can get away with this either. You shouldn't be complaining about such mundane things, you get to choose which songwriter you want, right? That's a privilege." I nod in return, trying to get this lecture over and done with. "Cinna needs you in five minutes. I suggest you get there early." Effie tells me with composed rage.

Wow, that was a quick one. I walk towards the dressing room…or the 'Launch Room' as Effie likes to call it. She thinks that after I come out from there, I look like a butterfly. In my opinion, I call it the 'Stockyard'—because that's where I get make up piled onto me and dresses pulled over my head.

I tuck my fingers into the pocket of my jeans and walk pass the tons of people who work with me. Some bother to give me a quick wave and smile before getting back to work. I wave back.

"Katniss!" Now, that voice can only belong to one person. I whip my head around to see Cinna coming towards me looking as good as ever. He gives me a warm smile, which I find myself returning. "Hello there." He grins at me. Then he gives me a look over, looking at my shirt and jeans.

"I'll admit, Katniss, you're looking better and better each time I see you." I give a teasing curtsy and thank him. "I try."

He laughs heartily before ushering me into the Stockyard. Well, I guess I can't really call it the 'Stockyard' anymore, Cinna makes things bearable. He knows how much I hate getting dressed up anyway.

"For tonight's interview, I was thinking of dressing you up in a nice dress. But don't worry, I'm thinking of a mix between casual and fancy." He informs me. Oh god, I totally forgot about tonight's interview.

Effie landed this huge interview with Caeser Flickerman, this big-time host on TV. Pretty much everyone in this city (and probably beyond) watch his show every time it's on. There's just something about him that makes you want to listen to his interviews and watch his show. Even I admit that it's pretty entertaining. I think Effie mentioned something about me singing live on the show as well, to boost my publicity as much as I can.

I hate interviews. People just can't seem to like me for who I am, and Haymitch oh-so endearingly tells me that I have as much charm as a dead slug. I won't say otherwise, I've watched my interviews, they don't go as well as I'd like to imagine.

"We're here!" A voice booms. Oh yay, it's the prep team. Look, I said that Cinna made it bearable, these guys, however, make things worse. They do their best to make me pretty, and that's all I can ask from them, but they aren't the brightest people around. I think that they come from the same otherworldly place that Effie does. Who else thinks that pearls become diamonds?

"Okay, let's get started then."

Cinna pulls out a hanger with a zipped-up coat over the actual dress itself, to shield it from any harm apparently. Once Cinna unzips the coat, I get a glimpse of the dress inside. By now, you'd think that I wouldn't be so surprised about how amazing Cinna's designs are. But I swear, every. single. time Cinna pulls out a dress from those coats, they take my breath away.

The dress he pulls out is a fiery red supernova. Jewels align the dress in a way that makes it look like flames. He moves it a little and the lights make it gleam with radiance and my breath hitches in my throat.

"I'm wearing that?" I ask in awe. Cinna chuckles and nods his head.

"I'm glad you like it. I just wanted to make sure that you're cool with the dress choice."

"Cinna, any dress you choose or make, I'll wear." I tell him honestly. Hey, everyone deserves a compliment once in a while. He gives me a sweet smile.

"Katniss!" A shrill scream awakes me from my admiration. I groan again. Effie, seriously? You again? Beside me I hear Cinna laughing under his breath.

"What? But we have to do Katniss' make up for the interview. We'll need at least three hours with her." Venia points out to Cinna. He places a finger on his lips and gives her a small nod.

"The slave-driver calls." I mutter under my breath, which sends the prep team into muffled hysterics. I walk out the door to see Effie looking for me.

"What?" I ask her in a low voice. She gives me an icy look that I return.

"Apparently you know this young man?" She asks me with full suspicion. Young man? What young man?

"Hey, Catnip." I quickly move to look behind Effie to find my best friend in the entire world.

"Gale!"

PEETA

The drive was long…and a little not worth it. But that thought only came when my energy drinks started to wear off and my mind wandered to my crazy mother. When that happened, I just cracked open another can of Tantrum with one hand (a party trick that my older brother taught me) and thought about my family—minus my mom. They were the reason why I was taking this big-ass, long drive back to my hometown anyway. Heck, I was passing through another state for them. The drive was nearly two days long and I suppose that I could've taken a plane, but there was something about road trips that always reeled me in. I think it was the time that I got alone, the solitary part about driving all the way there and back and saying that I survived it.

'But I would walk five hundred miles,
And I would walk five hundred more.'

The radio jams. I give a sly grin before belting out the lyrics.

It takes the rest of the night, but I finally arrive at the second place that I call home. The bakery looks fresh and new, not at all weathered like I expected it to be. Well, dad did say that they were planning on renovations; I guess they did it earlier than I thought they would.

I pull out my phone from my back pocket and get out of the car, pulling my backpack on my shoulder. I stretch out for maybe five minutes and take a huge breath. I lock my car before jogging up to the front steps of the bakery with so much excitement pent up in my chest. I glance at the closed sign and think about all the times that dad told me to flip it to open.

I turn on my phone and call my oldest brother's number.

Ring, ring.

"Peeta?" Bannock's deep voice greets me. The familiarity of it almost makes me fall over.

"Hey, man. Guess who's outside the door?" I ask with mischief.

"No way! You little ass!" I hear fumbling inside the bakery, some things crashing to the ground and I chuckle at Bannock's clumsiness.

The door swings open and the bell rings loudly. I give my best, winning smile and shut my phone off.

"Peeta!" Bannock chucks his phone on the desk right near the front door carelessly. He opens his arms wide and grabs me in a death hug and I return it. We laugh and smile and punch each other. Obviously he's got the upper hand being so much bigger than me. "Come inside, come inside!" Bannock nearly shoves me through the door in his excitement.

Despite what people think, I'm probably closer to Bannock than my other brother, Rye. Bannock and I were always close and always looking out for each other, we had each other's backs. But Rye, he was the womanizer in town, and spent more time with his lady friends than his brothers. That's okay though, we all still got along fine.

"You ass! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" He asks me with a chuckle, arm around my shoulder, shaking me to near death.

"It was a surprise!" I laugh at his mock hurt expression. Then he grins at me and pulls me towards the back of the bakery.

Our family bakery was also a house. The front part of it was the place that everyone saw, the bakery part. But behind the counter, there's a door leading into a kitchen (that also connects to the front part of the shop) and then the dining area. In that room, there are stairs leading to all our rooms. It's snug, kinda small, but it's one of the best places to be sometimes.

"Hey, Da-ad!" Bannock sings cheerfully as we squeeze through the kitchen.

"Yeah?" Dad calls from the dining area. Oh god, I missed home so much. The smell of cookies and cake lingers in the kitchen, and the tinted orange glow of the lights fill the place with warmth, the voices of my family ringing through the bakery and the sound of our footsteps echo on the polished wooden floor. This is my childhood.

"Guess who came to visit?" Bannock asks with the same mischief I did with him. Then he looks me in the eyes with a secretive look. What can I say? Mellark boys are one of the same.

We walk through the kitchen and I see dad sitting at the dining table with a newspaper in hand.

"Peeta?" Dad asks when he looks up. Then his face lights up with recognition and enthusiasm. "Peet! My son!" He stumbles over himself to give me a massive hug. I laugh.

"Oh wow. We have so much to talk about!" Dad exclaims before looking at Bannock, who nods heartily. We all gather around the dining table, slide the pine chairs out and fling ourselves into the seats. Bannock opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a voice that I find myself nearly despising.

"Honey, who's downstairs?" A voice calls from upstairs. Bannock and I share a look. Mother always acts like this with our dad. With us, she's the devil, but dad will never know that. I don't think Bannock, Rye or I have it in us to 'dob' on our mother like children.

"It's Peeta!" Dad shouts with a great grin. There's no response, only silence. That's always a bad sign. I can imagine her pursing her lips in suppressed anger.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs in a menacing fashion. There's only one woman I know that can turn even walking down stairs into something that you should be afraid of.

"Oh, that's such good news." There's a little too much honey in her voice for it to be real. When she appears at the foot of the steps, downing a robe and hair-curlers in her graying hair, she opens her arms to me and I have no choice but to get up and be a good son. She unenthusiastically wraps her arms around me. I've always been her least favorite son. I'd almost go as far as to say that she hated me. I'll always be 'the one who didn't help out with the bakery and foolishly chased an unreachable dream', follow that with her signature scoff and you've got a great impersonation of my mom.

"How've you been?" She asks, almost fooling me into believing that she cared. Then she adds a low and sneering, "Still trying to become a famous songwriter?"

"Yes I am, mother." I respond quickly. We fall into step, walking over to sit at the table as a family.

"And how's that going for you?" She asks icily.

"Well, I'm applying for a job next week."

"Oh. Still no job yet?" She asks in a haughty fashion. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I grit my teeth instead. "Rye's gotten a job at the market, it helps with the bakery's business." She gives me a suggestive glare.

Eager to change the subject, I speak to dad and Bannock, "Where is Rye, anyway? I was hoping to catch him before I left."

"I was wondering the same thing." Frowns dad. As we all turned into young adults, our curfews and restrictions became a lot more lenient…on my dad's part anyway. Mother just wanted to work us to death.

"He's out." Bannock covers for him. That's what we do for each other, this is the way it's always been. Even when mom…even when she beat us, we'd willingly take the hit for each other. That made things slightly bearable, it was the fact that we cared so much for one another.

At a party, Bannock mouths at me with a slight eye roll that just screams 'of course he is'. I chuckle lowly and shake my head. How typical.

"So about this job application, Peeta, who're you working for?" Dad asks. He seems genuinely interested, and I thank the high heavens that they gave us at least one parent who only wanted the best for us.

"Um…" I try to form my words, something that doesn't involve 'gorgeous, beautiful, amazing and talented'. "She's a new up and coming star for this major record company. Because she's so new, I have a better chance at becoming her songwriter." I inform him. He nods with a smile.

"Whatever makes you happy, Peet."

How do you guys feel about Gale's entrance? Any thoughts so far? Oh, the song I used in Peeta's road trip was '500 Miles' by The Proclaimers. The road trip part was majorly inspired from an episode of 'How I Met Your Mother'. Any of you guys seen it? If you have, a big shoutout to you guys :3 TANTRUM! Okay, that's all from me :) For now…give it a chance for things to start kicking in. I wrote this ages ago, I'm still trying to make it better.