A/N: I wrote this piece before MJ was released (a loooong time ago), which means I didn't know that Peacekeepers couldn't get married. It's a tangential detail, but whateves. Also, this takes place after the Quarter Quell announcement. Slight reference to Repaid.

Shameless plugging: I updated "Oh! You Pretty Things" on my blog. The link can be found on my profile.

Chapter 3

School let out in the afternoon. I took my time getting to my quiet house in the Officials' Circle. The trail of children thinned out through the town until I was the last one on the cracked sidewalk. My home stood the furthest from the Seam and the town. None of the other officials had children.

I didn't tell anyone this, but I liked school. The subjects weren't always interesting, but at least people surrounded me everywhere I went. And though the conversations weren't usually my own, I could listen in. It beat talking to myself.

Hanna, our housekeeper, usually took off when I'd get home from school because I could take over checking on my mother and making dinner. But she made a habit of staying later after the Quarter Quell announcement. I think she knew my feelings on that subject without me having to tell her. She made me a cup of tea before she went that day and talked to me about the field trip my class took last week to the mines. I told her about our tour guide teasing us about going to see a shrine they built to the devil. Hanna clucked her tongue repeatedly throughout the story. Then she had to go.

I knew that I should see if my mother's head troubled her, but that day I felt like rebelling against my duties. I just wanted to take a nap and forget what lay ahead for all of us in Twleve. As I walked down the hallway of the second floor, my dad poked his head out of the door to his office. He was the mayor of District 12, so I felt surprised to see him before dinnertime on a weekday. Running things around Twelve kept him pretty busy around the clock.

I stopped and stared at his shiny forehead. A fringe of faded yellow hair stubbornly refused to give up on him, but that was mostly along the sides and back of his scalp.

"Hi, Dad."

"Ah, Madge." He smiled. "Why don't you come in for a moment? I want to speak to you."

"Okay," I murmured, reluctantly stepping in after him. I guess you could say I had a guilty conscience, so being in the office with my dad didn't feel so good after all the time I spent in here alone. For nearly two years now, I'd been sneaking around his back and taking his newspapers on days when he had to work in the Justice Building. As far as I knew, he didn't suspect his quiet, otherwise obedient, pianist daughter of treachery.

Dad closed the door behind me. Wooden shelves lined most of the walls of the office from floor to ceiling. I had smelled what most citizens of District 12 had not – the scent of old paper and leather-bound books. The only reading anyone does is in school, or from pamphlets directly related to their professions. I took a moment to breathe in the books.

Instead of sitting back in his chair, Dad stepped over to the sofa against the far wall. He patted the cushion next to him. I settled down by his side like we used to do when he'd read to me, and curled my legs up, waiting for him to speak.

Dad scratched his head and checked his pocket watch before starting. "Madge, I wondered if you've considered what comes next for you. Your last school year is almost here and it's time to think about the future."

What future? I wondered. The one full of endless reapings and watching my neighbors barely get by? One without the only friend I ever had? But I knew what he meant, and so I asked, "You mean like jobs?"

"Well, yes," he nodded thoughtfully, "and other things."

"What other things?"

Dad shifted a little on the cushions and spread his arm over the back of the couch, patting my shoulder. That's something he always did when he broached an uncomfortable topic. "Well, Madgie," he said, slipping in my nickname – which sort of negated his assertion that I was growing up, "you're seventeen, and although I am certainly not in a rush for you to grow up, you're at the age when young people start finding one another attractive and…"

My eyes widened as I realized where my dad's discussion headed. "Are you asking if I'm interested boys?" I groaned.

Dad's cheeks turned a little red. "Young men, more or less." He laughed meekly. "Yes."

I shrugged stiffly. "I guess. I mean, yes. I mean, in general." Now I felt my cheeks growing warm too.

"Anyone in particular I should know about?" He arched an eyebrow, giving me a studious glance.

My cheeks scalded over. I lifted a hand to my face to feel if the skin had started to bubble. "Probably not," I replied with a thread of bitterness. A few faces slid through my mind – one, in particular, I lingered over. That would never happen, I knew. The longest conversation we'd ever had was more of fight. And he didn't know that I'd brought him morphling, as far as I could tell.

Dad looked surprised. "Oh. Well, I thought maybe…"

I shook my head adamantly. "Nope."

"So, the high price of strawberries is…just that?" I startled and looked hard at my dad. He pretended to clean beneath his fingernails. "Or is there some other reason we paid double for berries these last few years?"

Double? I gulped. I hadn't realized I'd been that generous. Had Katniss and Gale noticed? Had they thought anything of it?

"I'm not good at bartering," I bluffed. So, Dad had been on to me the whole time? Humiliation slid like ice into my stomach.

Dad pursed his lips. Eventually, he said, "I see. Well, how about the mad flight through the snow a few months ago?"

My head snapped back. "You knew about me taking Mom's morphling?" I gasped.

Dad rolled his eyes. "Honestly. You and your mother think I don't notice anything." He sighed. "It's a little insulting."

A smile involuntarily edged over my face. "Sorry, Dad. Mom didn't want you to worry about the painkillers."

Dad patted my shoulder again, and I knew he didn't feel mad about it. I supposed being mayor forced him to prioritize. "What I'm worried about," he continued, "is finding my family on Head Peacekeeper Thread's blacklist, or worse, his whipping post. And I'm worried about why my daughter sneaks off into the woods with her friend, gets trapped watching public torture, and then risks herself delivering morphling to a convicted poacher. I'm the mayor, Madge. I didn't get here by being unobservant. It also won't insulate my family from the Capitol's displeasure."

Oh god. If he knew about all that, then what else did he know? And of course he's right about the Capitol. I might have put my parents in danger by my actions. Panic shivered through me, making it hard to anticipate his next questions, and more importantly, my next lies.

"It's nothing to worry about, Dad, and don't read too much into it, okay?" I tried to keep the shaking out of my voice, but I doubt I fooled him.

"And the woods?" he pressed.

I shrugged. "I haven't gone in a while. Not since Thread repaired the fence. It was just a bit of fun."

We sat in silence for what felt like hours, listening to the ticking of the old clock on his desk. Crinkles deepened along Dad's eyes and forehead while he thought about what I'd said…and didn't say.

"So, this Hawthorne fellow…I shouldn't worry about him?" he said, giving me a sidelong glance. "Has he ever expressed his appreciation for the, er, painkillers?"

The implied belief behind that question made my jaw dropped. I clamped my hand over it. I'd never told anyone how I felt about Gale – not even with my mother – and to hear it spoken out loud startled me. "Dad, he's in love with Katniss Everdeen," I stammered. If hearing Dad directly ask about my feelings for Gale felt uncomfortable, confirming his feelings for my best friend felt downright painful. It made it real.

"His cousin?" Dad asked incredulously. "Oh my. Good heavens."

It never occurred to me that my own father would be fooled by that publicity stunt. I spoke without thinking. "They aren't cousins, Dad." And then I backpedaled – realizing we might be overheard. That the Capitol bugged its most important citizens' homes was a matter of course. I whispered, "Although, you probably shouldn't bring that up."

Dad's eyes flickered around the room, knowing full well what I meant. "I see. Well. That changes things a bit."

"Changes what?"

"Madge," he sighed. "I want to make sure that you're taken care of when your mother and I are not around to do it. Not that we plan on dying any time soon, but you never know." He smiled, but I found the subject profoundly morbid. "You're resourceful and intelligent, so I have no doubt that you'll be able to provide for yourself. But, as a father, I certainly hope that you won't have to do that on your own…."

"Dad!" I cried, cringing in embarrassment and nearly jumping off the couch. This conversation had gone all sorts of direction I hadn't wanted it to go.

He lifted his hand, beckoning me to calm down. "And I just want you to know that you have our support, no matter who the young man might be."

I blurted out, "Even if he were from the Seam?" Oops. Obvious much?

"Even so," he replied knowingly. "Or, say, certain well-meaning Peacekeepers."

"Peacekeepers?" I spit. "Why on earth would I marry a Peacekeeper? They're vile, repulsive, scumbag dregs of the earth—"

"Yes, I see your point," Dad said wryly. "But for a while there you were slinking around with that ginger fellow, and I thought…"

I deflated against the couch. "Oh…you mean Darius." I leaned my head against my knees. "We weren't sneaking behind your back, Dad. Darius and I are – were – friends. That's all."

I think I heard him mutter something under his breath about girls and just friends.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So, why all the good will, Dad? Desperate to get rid of me?"

"Of course not, Madgie." There again with the nickname. Dad retracted his arm and played with his wedding ring. "I wanted to have this talk with you before you made any decisions."

"And you'd be okay with whatever decision I made?"

He smiled a little at that. "To a point. As long as I felt he deserved you. Does it matter where a person comes from? As long as he takes care of you, then the rest doesn't matter. Naturally, I'd prefer to see you settled with the same comforts that we've been afforded, but that doesn't necessarily make a person happy. And you've always had your own ideas about people," he rattled off.

I thought about what he said, how he'd like me to have the same creature comforts that I'd grown up with. A huge house, all the food I needed, a housekeeper. Music. They were all good things. I felt grateful that we had the money to pay for my mom's medication, especially. But money can't stop anyone from feeling lonely or a house from seeming too big. I'd rather have a tiny house full of people I loved and who loved me than all of this. And I guess I could put up with a lot just as long as I didn't have to end up like Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, the town's most notoriously unhappy couple. I'd rather be poor and in love than well-off and miserable.

"Well," said my dad cheerfully, breaking into my thoughts. "That was profoundly uncomfortable for both of us, but I hope you'll consider what I've said. Your mother and I love you very much."

As torturous as it was to discuss these things with my dad, it was also kind of sweet once my embarrassment died down. "I'll keep that in mind, Dad, in case I run into anyone special," I told him, squeezing his hand.

"Good," he said, pleased.

I got up to leave, but when I reached the door he spoke again. "Oh, and Madge?"

I turned back. "Yes?"

"If anyone should ask," he said dryly. "It's the personal ads you've been reading in my newspapers, right?"

My eyes bugged. Did I do anything that my dad didn't notice? I tried to play along, but my voice came out sounding strangled, "How did you guess?"

"Just a hunch." He shrugged. "I, for one, enjoy the crossword puzzles on the back page. Anyway, I think you should probably give that up as a bad job and look a little closer to home." He winked. "See you at dinner."

I nodded dumbly, understanding the meaning behind his advice. I know you're up to something and I want you to stop. I closed the door between us as quickly as possible. But how could I stop? When delivering the papers to Katniss provided my only link to Gale.

To be concluded...