"What's that supposed to mean?" I spit out, more harshly than I mean it to be. Stay away from the Everdeen girls.
"My parents… well… my mom… She says your family is no good. That you're selfish people and you take things that don't belong to you," Peeta starts. I stare at him, stunned. He reads my face. "I don't believe that Katniss. That's just what my mom says."
"Your mom doesn't even know me. Know us," I respond. Peeta's expression softens.
"Of course not," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. It's intimate. It's the kind of thing that normally sends me reeling backwards from people, but in this moment his palm is so warm and it's easier just to lean into it. He runs his thumb along my cheekbone and I stare at his, swollen and throbbing. He sits back up. "Ever since I was a kid, you guys were kind of her example of what not to be. Dirty. Hungry. Poor. She's said it for as long as I can remember. The Seam kids are bad news. Stay away from the Everdeen girls." I don't know what to say to that. Neither does he. "I should have known better. You know what happened last time I broke the rules."
I do, and guilt starts festering in my gut. I know his mother hits him, but I've only ever seen this type of injury one other time.
When he gave me the burnt bread. The bread that saved my life, the life of my sister.
I saw her slap him across the face, but I have no idea what happened when they went inside. Peeta didn't come back to school for three days. When he did, his eye was black and he walked with a slight limp for a couple weeks.
I never said thank you. I never even acknowledged him.
The idea that this injury now is also on me is more than I can take.
"Katniss, this isn't your fault," Peeta says as if reading my mind.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" I ask, my words tumbling over each other. Peeta stares at the wall. "Peeta," I whisper, my voice small. He turns around and gingerly pulls his tee shirt over his head. I see a series of long welts running along his back.
"What is that from?" I ask.
"It doesn't matter," Peeta replies, his eyes locked on something distant. My fingertips gently ghost the wounds. I don't know what I'm doing, but I bring my mouth to the top welt and place a soft kiss on his skin. Peeta gasps a little and straightens his back. "What are you doing?" he asks suddenly.
I don't know what I'm doing. I want to make him feel better.
"I don't know," I respond. I never did that when he was hurt in the Arena. Peeta turns around in the stool. I suddenly realize how close we are. I can feel the heat billowing from his body, radiating like one of the ovens in his bakery. It is so warm and inviting, but I straighten my back. I'm not being fair to him. I know what he said in the interviews – he's in love with me. He's never said it wasn't true. He reaches up slowly and rests a hand on my waist.
"It's okay. You're being protective. It's just left over from the Arena, I get it," he dismisses. I nod, but somewhere in my mind I wonder if that's truly it. He studies my face for a minute. Pale skin. Tired eyes. "Did you sleep last night?"
I shake my head no.
"Me either," he confesses. "I think I need to go to bed." Peeta stands from the stool and we're so close the fabric of my shirt brushes up against his bare stomach. I step to the side and he skirts around me, grabbing his shirt off the floor and tugging it back over his head. "Katniss?" he says, facing the stairs so he doesn't have to see my reaction. "Will you stay with me?" His voice is more vulnerable than he means it to be.
He thinks it's all out in the open now. His mother's rule. Why we were forcing ourselves apart. I want to, but –
"I can't," I answer. I can see his posture deflate just a little.
"Okay. Well, good night," he says, throwing a forced casual look at me over his shoulder before heading up to bed.
I wait a little bit until I hear the sink stop running. Until there are no more footsteps upstairs. Until I know he's safe and in bed. I finally let myself out. The lawn is covered with dew and I soak the bottom of my pajama pants. I sneak into the house silently and move around the kitchen. Most people keep their medicines in the bathroom, but my mother keeps most of her supplies in a traveling case she stores in the kitchen closet. I snap open the clasps and find a bottle of sleep syrup. I set it on the counter, the glass clinking against the stone countertop. I place a kettle to boil on the stove. As I reach into the cabinet to find a mug, I hear the sound of tiny feet behind me.
"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Prim asks, her hair messy from bed.
"I'm sorry, little duck. I didn't mean to wake you up," I say. Prim sits on the stool along the bar, exactly where Peeta was when I found him in his house.
"It's weird having my own room. Lonely, kind of," Prim says, her fingers fiddling with the crisp white nightgown. It's brand new. I brought it back for her from the Capitol. She says it's fancier than any of her daytime clothes. I don't think she'll ever take it off. Making Prim smile is just about the only good thing in my life.
"Yeah," I agree, although Prim has been sleeping alone for weeks. Once I was reaped, she had her own room by default. I wasn't supposed to come back. I wonder what it was like for her to sleep alone that first night. I bet she didn't. I bet she slept with my mother every night I was gone.
"Does Peeta have trouble sleeping?" Prim asks, her voice a little higher than normal, one eyebrow perched high on her forehead. I can't deny it. I'd never lie to Prim.
"Yes," I say, pouring steaming water from the kettle into my cup. I sit beside her. "We both do. I just can't let my guard down. Can't relax. I don't know how anymore."
"Do you think that will help?" she asks, staring at the mug of hot water and sleep syrup. It smells saccharine, like someone put too much sugar in their tea. I know what she's worried about. She's seen Haymitch, drunk and hapless. She's seen victors on television. Not the ones in the forefront, but the ones dragged to the Games, heads bobbing from morphling running through their veins. She doesn't want me to become another addict, refusing to stay awake, locking myself in my room and using sleep syrup to force out reality.
"I don't like sleeping, Prim," I answer. "There's nothing good waiting for me when I close my eyes."
"You can come sleep in my room if you want," she offers sweetly. I know from my experience on the train home that's not an option. Night comes with terrors that leave me screaming and sweating and thrashing. I'm hoping the sleep syrup will knock me so deep I'm beyond that, but I don't want to risk hurting my sister.
"I'm not much of a bedfellow anymore," I confess.
"Are you going to Peeta's?" she asks. "When you sneak out at night?"
"Prim!" I exclaim as I shift in my seat uncomfortably. "Yes," I answer.
"Does he really love you like he said?" she follows up, a small smile on her lips.
"I don't know. What we said in front of the cameras wasn't always true," I say, stroking her head lightly with my hand.
"I think he loves you," Prim replies.
"I think he's just worried about me," I say back. "Because we spent so much time worrying about each other in the Arena."
"I think that's an easy excuse," Prim adds, too wise for her years.
"Okay, that's enough. Bed," I order. We march up the stairs in a row. She wishes me a good night and slips into her room. I go to mine. My bed is enormous. Three people could sleep in here comfortably. I feel like it might swallow me whole. I walk to my window. The lights are still out at Peeta's.
I head to the bathroom and brush out my hair. The toothpaste from the Capitol is so minty it stings. We used to just brush our teeth with baking soda I bartered for in the Hob. Marta likes squirrel, so I could stockpile the stuff. I set my toothbrush on the porcelain sink and stare at the steaming mug of water, but when I blink I see Rue, smiling. She's not bloodied and dead. But even her face makes me feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. Like I'm gasping for air. I think about Peeta next door, struggling with the demons when he closes his eyes. The demons when he opens them. We're both haunted now.
Tomorrow night.
I'll try to sleep alone tomorrow night.
When I reach Peeta's room I'm panting from the run. He's not asleep. He's lying on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. He has a wet washcloth pressed to the wound on his face and his chest is bare.
"Katniss, what are you –"
"Shut up," I say as I drop down beside him. For a moment I consider resting my head on his chest, like how we slept in the cave, but I decide against it. I adjust the pillow under my head and lie on my side facing him.
"Thank you for coming," he says.
"Don't be stupid," I respond. He doesn't look at me, he just resumes staring at the ceiling. We don't speak for a long while.
"I thought she'd be different," he finally whispers. I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. My mother isn't winning any awards, but she's not Mrs. Mellark. There's a difference between neglect and malice.
"After I came back, I thought she'd finally be proud of me. That she'd finally realize she could love me, too."
She could love him too. Like he loves her. My stomach hurts. Peeta's life is full of loving people that don't love him back.
I made a promise to protect him. On the train, I promised I would keep him safe. But I didn't think threat would come from home. I want to hurt her. The feeling disgusts me, but I want to go over there and rip his mother's hair out. I want her to feel as terrible as he does. I don't recognize this part of myself. As much as I hate it, the Games have changed me. That's not what Peeta needs from me, though.
I find his hand in the dark and weave my fingers with his. It's comforting in a way that it wasn't with Gale. I wonder if Peeta finds it comforting. I run my thumb idly over his and he turns his head on the pillow to face me.
"I've never told anybody what she did," he says. I think he feels safe because it's dark here. "People at school. Friends"
"We knew, though," I say back. His face flushes.
"I thought I hid it pretty well," Peeta says. "But if you noticed, I'm sure everyone did. You hardly paid me any mind."
"That's not entirely true," I confess. He traces my face with his eyes, at least what he can see in the dark.
"You noticed me?" he asks.
"Go to sleep," I reply. He waits for a minute, as if debating something, but ultimately he closes his eyes. After a few minutes he drifts off, his hand falling loose in mine. He sleeps on his side for a while, but eventually he rolls away from me and I'm face-to-face with the mess on his back. I'm not sure what I'm looking at. I think probably a belt.
I trace my fingers over his skin. Stay away from the Mellark boys. Stay away from the Everdeen girls. Seam. Town. There are more things diving us than keeping us together.
It's already sunny when I wake back up. I fell asleep in Peeta's bed.
Shit.
I spring up and I'm instantly on my feet. Peeta jostles, rolling over. He realizes it's light out.
"You have to get out of here," he says quickly.
"I know!" I say, searching the floor for my shoes. When I get home, I spy my mother through the kitchen window. I can't go in through the front door. I run along the side of the house, finding the tree that grows outside the spare bedroom between Prim's and mine. I leap to the bottom branch, swinging my legs over the top. I climb until I reach the bedroom window, push it in slightly, and drop to the floor. I smack my knee hard. It's going to bruise. I can't think about that right now. Instead I take off my shoes and pad downstairs barefoot like I'm coming down from my own room.
"Morning," my mother says as I arrive in the kitchen.
"Morning," I say back, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring myself some coffee.
"What was that bang?" she asks as she scrambles eggs in a skillet.
"Buttercup," I answer. "He knocked something over." It's a good excuse but I'm a terrible liar. My mother just looks at me and nods, but I can tell she doesn't buy it.
"Are you feeling better? You seemed upset when you came home yesterday," she responds. It feels like a lifetime ago. I think back and then the memory of Gale, his confession, the kiss… All of that had slipped from my mind the moment I saw Peeta's face.
"Yeah," I say, sipping the coffee slowly. "I had a fight with Gale. Sort of."
My mother pauses as if debating whether or not she should respond. "He was really wrecked after you left," she tells me. "He was at our house every day with game. Told us he'd made you a promise." My mother watches me for a reaction. It's no secret she expects Gale and I will end up together. As does his mother. As does practically everyone in the Seam. But I've never felt that way about him. And up until yesterday, I thought he'd never felt that way either. She sighs. "Maybe you should give Gale a break. I know what happened to you in the Arena was terrible. But things weren't great on this end either."
I've never really taken myself out of my own shoes and tried to imagine the Hunger Games experience from the perspective of my mother or Gale. What if felt like to come home without me. Watching me running for my life, fighting for my life. Knowing the odds weren't in my favor and the most likely outcome is that they'd eventually watch me die. I imagine what it would be like to watch Gale in an Arena, a thousand miles from me. It's unspeakably awful. Even the thought makes me sick to my stomach and suddenly my coffee feels like sludge in my mouth. I swallow it hard.
"I know," I say. "It was a stupid fight. I'll go see him today."
"Good," she answers. I nearly jump out of my seat when the anthem of the Capitol begins to play. The television in the living room has turned on, as does every set in Panem when there is a mandatory viewing. I wonder what this could be and make my way into the living room.
They make some formal announcements, but it seems the real reason for the broadcast is some superfluous puff piece on the victors' return home. Shots of the party at the Justice Building. Me hugging my mom. I hold my breath. I realize why this is airing. They must have something salacious. This is a calculated move by Snow. He wants to ruin me, make everyone hate me. Then he can kill me off without even an ounce of protest from the people.
Gale and I are caught on tape.
He'd still have a victor if he killed me. He'd still have Peeta. I'm disposable. I hold my breath, waiting for the announcement. The footage. The kiss. A death warrant.
"And now, for a bit of gossip I'm sure you all want to hear!" Claudius Templesmith blares out like a horn. His live studio audience claps and cheers. "As you are aware, our Victors had something of a connection in the Arena, and I know it's not just me wishing that we'd see Katniss Everdeen return those feelings of love from Peeta Mellark." In the background they've cut together footage from the Arena and the celebration in 12. The way it is put together, things look very heated between us. They use slow motion to draw out a look and turn it into a longing gaze. They show clips of me watching Peeta sleep in the cave, my brow wrinkled with worry. They show him screaming at my unconscious body, his eyes brimming with tears. They show us laughing and talking. They show us sleeping with my head on his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around me. They overlay the audio of Peeta's interview confessing his love. It all looks very romantic.
"I'm sure many of you are wondering how our little lovebirds have been doing since their return to the coal district," Caesar says. The footage shows me wrapped in Gale's arms at the train station. It catches me looking back at Peeta with his family, but ultimately leaving without so much as a goodbye. There's a snippet of my mother telling the press that I'm too young to have a boyfriend. I give her a look. I didn't know she'd talked to them. Haymitch must be losing his mind. I can barely breathe and I'm getting dizzy.
"We have some covert footage of one of our victors, Miss Katniss Everdeen! This will clear the air of what's happening in our quaint little District 12! Do you want to see it?" The crowd goes wild at Caesar's words. I feel like the floor might drop out from under me. I gulp. I'm sure they'll cut the part where I pushed Gale away. When I ran from the Meadow. I'm sure it will just show us holding hands. The kiss. I can feel my mother's eyes on me as we both wait for the film to air.
The screen cuts and I'm surprised when it's not the Meadow. It's a still of Peeta's front door. The way the picture looks, it's clearly been filmed at night. The film shows me silently approaching his house, entering without knocking like I'm expected. It shows the lights go out in the kitchen then on in the bedroom, then ultimately out again. I can feel my mother frozen next to me, every muscle in her body clenched. Time lapses, the sun rises. I shoot from Peeta's door, running to my house. The camera changes angle and catches me climbing the tree in the backyard, sneaking ungracefully through the window. My mother takes a step away from me.
My mind races. I don't understand. This just happened. How could they possibly have put together an audience, staged this whole televised production in only minutes? Then I realize these cameras are running live. They probably saw me go over the night before, too. Planned to use that footage, until they saw this even more damning evidence of me sneaking back into my house this morning.
"Well I guess that answers all of our questions about Katniss and Peeta! It seems that our girl on fire is sneaking into the baker's son's house in the dead of night for a secret rendezvous. A lover's tryst! Am I right?" Caesar bellows to the audience, who cheer wildly in response. He wraps things up, recapping the official government announcements. The segment ends with the anthem again and the screen flashes with the seal of Panem.
I look to my mother. I've done anything but stay away from the Mellark boy.