"Prim, will you go see who's at the door?" Mother calls from the kitchen. I get up from my place in front of the fire where I was playing with Buttercup, my cat. Opening the door, I'm taken aback slightly. It's Gale, but without his game bag. Why is he here?
"Hey, Prim," he greets me. I smile, pleased to see him.
"Hey," I say. "What's up?" He smiles.
"My mother sent me over to see if you and Mrs. Everdeen would like to come over for dinner tonight." I turn back to the kitchen, where I see that my mother is coming to greet Gale.
"Hello, Gale," she says. "What brings you here?"
"My mother wanted to know if you and Prim would like to come over for dinner," Gale says, that respectful, yet gentle, tone in his voice, one that he reserves for Mother and Mrs. Hawthorne. Mother smiles.
"We would be delighted," she says. "Tell your mother we'll be there in a couple of minutes." Gale nods and leaves.
"Oh, welcome, welcome!" Mrs. Hawthorne says as we enter the house. The boys, Rory and Vick, are playing on the rug in the living room with a wooden top, and Posy is playing with a rag doll on the kitchen floor. I look around for Gale.
"Where's Gale?" I ask Mrs. Hawthorne. She thinks for a moment.
"I'm not sure, dear. But you're welcome to look for him." As I go back outside, Mother and Mrs. Hawthorne are already in conversation. I shut the door behind me, breathing in the cool night air. I walk around the house to the back, where the chopping block is. I sit on the pile of logs by the door, listening to the sounds of birds saying their goodnights.
Suddenly, I hear a disturbance in the calm. A bunch of rustling, some metal, and a harsh, whispered "ouch". I look over to where the noise came from, and Gale emerges from behind the bushes that hide the gap in the fence. He carries his game bag with him and looks about. When his gaze catches me, he doesn't say anything, just raises and eyebrow and smiles playfully.
"I didn't know you guys were here yet," he explains. He shifts, and I get a glimpse of his right forearm. It's bloody. I let out a small cry.
"Oh, Gale, your arm!" I say, rushing over to him. He looks down at his wound, as if he forgot that he hurt himself, and then back at me.
"I'm fine, Prim," he says. I ignore him and take his muscled arm in my hands, looking it over.
"What did you do?" I ask. It doesn't look too deep, just a minor cut and some scratches that look scary because they're gushing, but only because they're near an artery. He'll be ok if we get it cleaned and wrapped up.
"First time I've ever hurt myself on that blasted fence," he mutters. I look up at him.
"Are you ok?" I ask, because his demeanor has changed. He's back to that stony cold expression, far from what he was just a second ago: playful and smiling. He pulls his arm from my hands with a jerk and he starts inside.
"Gale, wait – " I say. "I – I'm sorry if I…" Gale stops and turns back to me. His expression has changed to one of sadness and fatigue.
"I'm sorry, Prim," he says. "Really."
"It's ok, Gale, I know… I know what it feels like." I know that the conversation has changed from Gale's wound to how we've been acting to each other lately. We haven't been close; we've been high-strung with emotions, trying to keep ourselves busy to keep our minds off Katniss, and every night being a sleepless one probably hasn't helped. And I know that both of us feel the same way, and that's why we need each other.
Gale comes to me and kneels in front of me.
"I promise, from here on out, to be your protector, your friend, your comforter, your call-me-in-the-middle-of-the-night-if-you-need-me guy. I promise to take care of you like your older brother would, Primrose. Will you have me?" His words break me, and I start to cry. He holds me and I sob against him, feeling his warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest. When he manages to calm me, I give him my answer.
"I promise too."