a/n: Wow, thanks for the response to this! I won't be able to update this daily, but I was able to write a good amount and I was surprised by the reviews/alerts that I decided to get along to the next part. I'm glad a good amount of you are enjoying this Johanna! She's such a great character and is especially fun in this au. A couple people asked as well with whether or not I'm going to be going into Katniss POV. I'm tempted, I might, but I'm not sure. If I do, it'll be later on down the line. Or maybe afterwards, I'll do an outtakes of this and do some parts in Katniss' pov. A scene in this part in particular I've thought out in Katniss POV so that might happen. Anyway, enjoy! Thanks again for the reviews/feedback/etc. writing blog is at hotpiewrotehotpie . tumblr . com
I thank all of you who are totally in love with all of those cheesy movies that we grew up with, and those songs that became our soundtracks.
In other news, Hootie and the Blowfish is an awesome band, as well as REM.
well there's nothing I can do
I only wanna be with you
you can call me your fool
only wanna be with you
Put on a little Dylan
sitting on a fence
I say that line is great
you ask me what I meant by
only wanna be with you | hootie and the blowfish
.02.
I'm sweating when I wake up, panting, and my skin feels like it's on fire on my sprawled out self. It's the same damn thing for two years now and I hate it. I groan, knowing I won't fall back asleep and the rain is still unrelenting, still knocking at my window as if it wants to come in and sweep me away. My alarm clock blares the numbers 4:23 from beside me and I sit myself up and wince as my leg still gives off waves of aching. Still raining, still aching, and now I'm stuck awake. It's not that bad, though, I tell myself. I wake up usually at five and get ready quick so I can be at the bakery just at the end of the street by six and get in a solid hour of working before I get to school. Sometimes I come into first period with flour in my hair. Sometimes I just man the cash register and have only the smell of the baked goods surrounding me. Either way dad always sends me off with stale breakfast bread to eat during first period and a quick pat on my cheek, since sixteen is too old for a hug or kiss from my father.
My mother does inventory, is always doing the paperwork. I can't remember the last time she actually helped out at the store beyond an emergency need manning the register. I'd say that I wished she took more part in helping with the bakery, our family's business, but that would be a lie. It's better that she stays away, that she barely even remembers that I exist. She lets me know I'm nothing more than a burden, and the feel of her stare makes me nervous and jittery when I work. The bakery is one of the only places that has been completely steadfast in its ability to make me feel overall able, and like I can contribute. Even after, those two years ago, even with my limp and my scar and my pain, I can still do things there. I still am the best at decorating the cakes. I still can roll out the dough just as fast as my father. I couldn't play football or do wrestling anymore, but I could help with the bakery still. If my leg starts to hurt too much I can sit on a stool. No one is ever in the back to see my stumble because of a limp except my father or brother, and they say nothing about it. It's almost a sort of refuge, that place.
By quarter to five I'm restless and annoyed by my thoughts and decide it's time for a shower. I bring the water to a warm temperature even though I favor cold showers, especially in the morning. The warmth helps the ache and I feel like it's all I can think about right now and all I could for the past day. I sigh, but remember dinner last night. My brother asking for me to pass him the corn and mid pass, asking if I found a way home without him alright. There was a smirk on his face, maybe, or maybe in my bitterness that I still had over it I just imagined it there so I could watch it swipe off.
"Johanna Mason drove me home," I tell him, and a grimace stares me down as he gripped his fork hard.
"Don't take a ride from her again," He demands.
"Don't leave me without a ride again," I counter. He is trying to tell me who could and couldn't drive me? I didn't give a damn about the fact that he can't deal with someone actually not liking him but doing something that seemed nice for me. Rides from Johanna Mason weren't something that was to become a habit, but fuck if I was going to let him tell me who could volunteer to drive me home when he decided to just duff me.
"I'll have no arguing at the dinner table." Mother's voice is sharp and brought us back in from our anger. I saw the way that her eyes were trained on me and I ducked my head. I got the point. The argument is my fault. I'm not to step out of line. Jakob is, and always was, a golden sort of kid to my mother. It's weird, because people always think that the middle child gets the least amount of love, not the first and precious oldest and not the babied youngest. But Jakob was always a sort of favorite, my birth not overshadowing him. He was happy for that, and I guess I was too. I've seen over the years the kind of stress and pressure that Jakob always hides. I've felt it too, of course, but it didn't feel the same. It wasn't the same. He has an underlying fear of disappointing mother and father when I know that I already have disappointed mother and father won't ever let me know if he truly is disappointed as well. It's a sort of relief, that my stress and pressure, on those accounts at least, is all basically personal.
I get a umbrella when I finally am done and dressed, ready to walk to the bakery. It'll take a solid ten minutes to walk there this morning instead of the usual six, and I would rather keep all the rain off of me that I can. Jakob sometimes helps as well, but as he took more responsibilities at school with sports and clubs, less was expected of him. Before school shifts weren't necessary. I wonder sometimes if that was the reason he started doing everything, but know that's not true. He just wanted those things on his applications, always since entering high school he had a one track mind with what would get him into a good school. The bakery is not something he wants to follow in the footsteps of. Neither does Cole, who's studying at MIT. I once asked him about classes and ended up in a daze when he tried to explain it to me. I think he wanted to have it all go over my head. All I know is that he wears ties and dress pants to classes, something that isn't ever considered for any bakery day. He does not want it.
It's a good thing that I enjoy the bakery and it's haven to me, because I'll most likely be getting it at the end of this all.
The complete warmth I get from the place as I open the door is astounding. The literal heat feels great against the cold rain outside, but it's the overall warmth that is a feeling deep inside that I love. Even after the accident, I still love this place. I don't know how, or why. I wake up from nightmares of it. I can't sleep at night. However this place is not the place of my nightmares. It's where I work side by side with my father. It's where my brother will sometimes joke with me like we did when we were young. With the accident (Tragedy, my mother insists, and insists upon the entire town to insist upon), it wasn't the bakery. It was just some pit of hell and nightmares that was contained and we escaped. It was cleaned up.
In my nightmares, the peeling green paint is something I stare at. It was something I stared at when it was happening. I told my father and he made sure that the walls were painted in a deep, rich brown.
He greets me as I step into the back with a "morning son," and I get right to work. Only getting an hour in means I try and do as much as possible in as little time as possible, but my father stops me as I'm about to start kneading the cinnamon bread.
"We got a call for a wedding cake," he lets me know, showing me the order.
"When's it for?" I ask, scanning the type of decorating they want rather than all of the other information on top. Three tiers, set in an off-white fondant. Piping around all the edges, and a lattice work on the edges of the cake. Done in same color as fondant. Tulips in the light and dark purple, with gold accents.
"They need it in two weeks." I raise my eyebrows at him and he shrugs. Last minute wedding cakes come in sometimes, and it's a good thing we aren't particularly busy right now and can do it. Vanilla flavoring with a small in-layer of chocolate. Banana custard filling, top tier with a mocha filling. "I was wondering if you'd do the fondant and icing of it and all."
I look up at him and smile. I've done my fair share of cakes by myself at this point, but a wedding cake? Never the whole thing. Never by myself. "I'd love to."
He smiles back and lets me get back to work. I immerse myself fully into what I'm baking, not thinking about the wedding cake, not thinking about the pop quiz we'll most likely have in history, and not thinking about the fact that there is a party tonight that I'm actually nervous about. I knead it and then set it. In my one hour that I have before school, it's usually best for me to just do a lot of prep. So I get a bunch of dough ready for my father to just throw into the ovens and then display and watch as it disappears into the hands of buyers.
Soon enough I'm taking my apron off and washing my hands, looking quickly into the mirror to see if there is any flour or dough stuck anywhere that is visible that I could get off so as to not make a fool of myself. As I come through the front, I see my father talking with Haymitch Abernathy. I frown a bit to myself, but then wave in his direction. He's more of a story than a real person around here most of the time, but he used to always come into the bakery early in the morning for a bread. He hasn't been around in over a year, so I wasn't sure if he just moved away. People liked to make up stories about what happened. People are cruel in what they have to say about him.
"You still limping?" The old man asks me as I make my way to the front, his attention breaking from my father and moving to me for just a bit.
Well, he's a bit of a cruel man himself.
I just nod, and let a quick smile pass at him. "Yeah, Haymitch. Weather's not helping."
He snorts and shakes his head. "I get it. I have a bad arm. I threw it out years ago when I...well just years ago." Of course he wasn't going to tell me how. He likes that he is made up of stories, none of them what he truly is. "Rain don't help. Try and keep dry."
I consider for a split second being sarcastic to the man. Keep dry? No, I want to just sit and let myself be soaked by the downpour. But I just mutter a thank you to the man and go on my way as I hear Jakob's car pull up to the front and beep. He's a surly man and the fact that he attempted at somewhat advice is more than I ever imagined was possible from the man.
The car ride to school is quiet, the radio making all the noise that is needed between the two of us. The sounds of the song by REM comes through, a voice declaring this one goes out to the one I love brings us into the parking lot and my brother quickly shuts off the radio and car as we step out.
"I'll see you after class," he mutters to me before going on my way. If there was one thing my drive home by Johanna guaranteed it is that my brother will not bail out on me for the next couple of weeks. The bell is soon to ring so I make my way as fast as possible to my locker for books and get into the classroom right before it sounds. My eyes automatically go to the back corner where Katniss Everdeen sits, to find her today sitting there looking at me. I look away quickly, cheeks red as hell I'm sure, and take my seat. I can't look at her at all this period due to the seating and I think that is a good thing. She never looks back at me in class and yet, here she was, looking at me when I came in. Did Johanna already ask her to go to the party tonight? Did Johanna tell her how I've been in love with her since I first saw her?
Knowing Johanna, she'd say it in a horrible way. She'd make it extremely inappropriate. God, it takes everything in me to not just ask for a bathroom pass and sit in the hallway banging my head against the lockers until I knock myself unconscious. I can only imagine what kind of perverted twisted fool Johanna could have painted me out to be.
A voice in my head tries to reason. Maybe Johanna didn't say any of that. Maybe she didn't even get around to telling them all about the party. It's only the next day. Johanna didn't seem like the kind of person to call up a girlfriend on a telephone to gossip or talk parties and boys. Maybe I caught her eye just because of the simple fact that I walked in as the bell rang. I look up sometimes as well if someone comes in almost late, catching their eye. That's all it was. I repeat that in my head. All it was, all it was. I'll have to keep my faith in Johanna, that she does, somehow, someway, have my best intentions in her heart.
I'm so fucked.
Classes go by slow and I don't really pay attention until math comes along. Again, she's in the class, only the seating is a bit better. This class we were given assigned seats, and Katniss' seat is just one over and across from me. The hour is filled with me looking at her braid and random numbers trying to spill out of my head. I should be paying more attention, we're going over pre-calc and I need to know these things for the test that's bound to be just around the corner. It's just so easy to have my head glued on the chalkboard up front while my eyes wander just slightly to the left, to where she sits diligently taking notes. And I can't help it. She may be going to the party tonight. Going on my invite. Well, mine indirectly. Going on my invite to Johanna which she dragged out of me so she could invite the others. Maybe outside of the school environment I'd gain a courage to talk to her. I have to. This is getting ridiculous, if I'm being honest with myself.
The decision I made all those years ago is simple enough. It was more of two, I guess. The first was that I was in love with Katniss Everdeen. Still very true. The second was that Katniss Everdeen would be my first kiss. At sixteen years old, I'm one of those unheard of species in the category never been kissed. At times, it was almost hard work. Girls have tried to kiss me before, or expected me to try and kiss them. I've been on dates. God, the first date I went on I even felt like I couldn't hold the girl's hand, as if I was betraying myself with just that. I got over that. I haven't been on a lot of dates, but a couple. And I'd hold their hand. And usually they'd expect me to kiss them goodnight. Sometimes they'd go in for it themselves.
I always evaded it. Giving them a goodnight hug or once even just darting out of there. Or like Johanna brought up, I one time bowed to a girl. I couldn't give them that though, my first kiss. It sounds stupid probably, but I didn't want just some girl after a first date to have it. Or any kiss from me, for that matter. A kiss is a meeting of two lips in a agreement of attraction and affection, and with the one date girls I've been around it's only been one sided if any. It felt like a precious thing, this whole idea of My First Kiss, and it was mine to decide who it'd be for. And I decided long ago who it'd be. All I had to do of course, was to get her to want to kiss me.
At the rate I'm going, I wouldn't be surprised if my tombstone proclaims for all to know that I died kissless.
I'm barely contained jitters by the time lunch rolls around. The talk is completely and absolutely about Colton's party, and I listen. Somewhat. I look over to their lunch table every now and then, and see that every now and then they're looking at ours. Johanna catches my eye at one point and sends me a big wink, the other three all turning to look in my direction. I try to stop looking over there. Delly notices my red face but doesn't question.
Lunch is almost over when it's asked.
"Did you get the word out to anyone about the party, Peet?" Elyssa asks me.
Vaguely, somewhere in my mind I recognize the fact that I should lie. That I should tell them no, like I do whenever they have a party. I show up, have a beer or two, and then walk home or bum a ride from a DD. Or sometimes I just don't drink. My father says that I can call him whenever I need a ride, no matter what state I'm in, but the idea of phoning home and having my mother pick up would make me want to walk fifty miles home instead.
But I should lie. I should say no, not anyone, not this time. I never invite anyone, so it wouldn't be a big deal and it'd pass by unnoticed. Instead, my mouth betrays me. "I told Johanna Mason about it. She said her and her friends might come."
A silence follows my statement and I don't dare look up. I notice that it's the most quiet our table has probably ever been. I can feel daggers being stared into my head by Delly. I will not look at Delly.
"Johanna Mason? The senior?" I recognize the silence as disbelief. I get it. I never invite anyone to a house party these people throw, and then when I do, it's a senior. It's not even like me and my brother are close, and that it's him and/or his friends. To them this is completely out of the left field.
It's completely out of left field to me too.
Delly understands it a bit more, I guess, another reason to not look up at her. I just nod. "My brother bailed on me yesterday and she offered me a ride home. We talked. It came up, she said she might stop by with a couple of people." My eyes trail a bit over to their table but I quickly bring them back because dammit Katniss Everdeen is looking over here right now and if I give them any attention I know for a fact this entire table will look over at all of them and make a big deal of doing so.
"Cool man. Cool that's...that's awesome!" Colton finally says, and everyone joins in agreement. I sigh to myself in relief as they continue talking, Victor saying how he'll have to talk to his older brother who's buying a lot of the booze to make sure that there's some sophisticated crap, as if he could impress Johanna Mason the senior.
The bell rings and Delly is immediately at my side. "What the hell is going on?" She whispers.
I continue, throwing out my trash and heading to my locker. "Johanna drove me home. She heard about the party and wanted an invite. She's going to invite a couple of people."
"Does she know–"
"Yes, Delly, okay? She figured it out because apparently I'm all too transparent when it comes to this." I try to calm myself down, hearing how irritable my voice sounds. "I didn't even want to tell her, I didn't mean to. She figured it out. And she told me to invite her and she'd get her to the party." This is such a stupid idea. Why couldn't I just say no, that they shouldn't try to come to this party. That I'm fine being a coward and never getting to actually know Katniss Everdeen and forever to remain wondering how it'd feel to have her lips on mine.
Johanna and Katniss walk past us then, Katniss looking at me and her eyes flitting away as Johanna slaps my back as she goes by. "See you later, Blondie!" She calls out and makes her way down the hallway. Katniss tries to look over at me again, but sees me looking. She turns away, like she always does. Not that I can blame her, exactly. She smells of the woods now, of outdoors mixed with vanilla, but I'll never forget when she smelt like smoke. I know she doesn't forget that smell either, even if I never talked to her. You don't just forget that smell.
"Well, whatever happens, it'll sure be an interesting night, huh Peeta?"
I nod, distracted at the thought and how this is all just really, really, a bad idea. "Yeah, interesting." Delly heads off and Madge comes around, as if it's some trade off of blonde girls I'm walking with.
"So Johanna had some interesting news for us at lunch." Madge starts off and I'm dreading the next thing she's going to tell me. That Katniss snuck those looks at me because Johanna decided to say something like how she was the first person I had a wet dream about and how it made me fall in love with her.
Mind you, that is slightly true. But I was already in love with her. But she doesn't need to know that, no one needs to know that.
"I figured as much." I decide my entire fate, past present and future, in this school district depends solely on what Johanna Mason told them.
"She said she drove you home, and that you invited her and all of us to a house party. Oh, well I guess more of we have an obligation to go. We have to go. There's no way out of it for us."
I chuckle slightly, partly at how Johanna was extremely determined in not even getting a no for an answer let alone having to take it, but also out of relief that she didn't reveal what she discovered yesterday.
"So she caught wind of who you've been pining for all of these years?" Madge asks me and I look over at her. "We might've talked separately. She might've gotten a bit rude to me that I didn't tell her."
"I don't understand why she is so fixated on this idea of me being in love with Katniss," I mutter under my breath and look around quickly, making sure no one can hear me.
"She's said it to you, I'm pretty sure. She has this thing about getting rid of the pure of a person. She's been on Katniss' case about it since we were eleven, telling her to kiss a boy, and use her tongue in it for fucksake. Quite an enlightening friend to have around, let me tell you. But now she's found a boy hopelessly wrapped up in love with the girl, and also in need of getting rid of his own purity. Two birds, one stone."
I shake my head. "This is going to end so badly. There's no way it can end well."
Madge smiles at me. "Who knows, Peet, maybe you'll be kissed tonight." Madge shrieks as I chase her the rest of the way down the hallway and the two of us are laughing by the time we get to our seats. We quiet down, and get on with our work, on and off talking about the party. I'm glad she's going, I'm probably going to need moral support from someone who understands my dilemma but isn't as brash as Johanna. Delly will be there but she tends to go all out at parties like these.
When I get to my brother's car at the end of the day, he's leaning against it and fiddling with his car keys. He gets in without saying a word, and I do the same. "I have to pick up some things," he mutters to me, and we start our trek. I'm confused, but don't say anything, as we make our way to the other side of town, the other side of the train tracks. To the Seam.
I never knew that my brother would ever willingly go here. Our mother taught us that beyond the train tracks lie the trash of the world all rounded up in one area. Nicer people (although the amount of them is low) from our part of town would just say that the people were just trying to make due. As we drive, the trees surrounding get denser. The Seam is surrounded by beautiful thick woods, something I always admired and envied. Growing up I always wondered what it'd be to have the forest, something seemingly magical to me, right there in your backyard. Driving through it now my fingers itch, as if all they want to do is sketch out the place they see.
Back on our side, we have woods too, I suppose. They've been cut down for the most part years ago though, trees sparse. Nothing like the dense expansive area that I see surrounding here. I want my own car. I want to be able to travel these roads whenever I want and get lost in the place surrounded by trees.
We stop soon enough, and I see that we're at the small deli-slash-marketplace at the edge of the Seam. The Hob. I've been in there only once a long time ago, and I am itching to go back in. But when I go to take off my seat belt my brother stops me. "Wait for me," he tells me, and gets out of the car. I see that he has my door locked as well, had it as we were driving through as if trying to stop people from getting us. I shake my head and wonder what he needs to get, but don't really care. He's not going to tell me.
By the time we're driving back home I feel almost at ease, which is a bit surprising. I'm still nervous though, nervous as hell. But god, dare I say it? I'm a bit excited too. I think back to what Madge said, poking fun at me, and can't help but smile a little. Maybe, just maybe, this will be the night I get a kiss from Katniss Everdeen.
