"Mama?" That's a little girl. In curiosity, I look up, and I see Primrose Everdeen standing in the doorway. My eyes move towards the owner of the blue skirt, and I see her mother. I'm slightly surprised by her being here. There's no reason for her to come and see me, as I've never spoken to her. Her kind blue eyes stare down at me sympathetically, the shallow lines on her face suggesting that she used to lead a life of laughter. My father told me once that he had wanted to marry her. I often wonder how different my life would have been if I had had her for a mother, but these thoughts are usually turned away in remembrance of the fact that if my father had married her that I would not have Katniss. Not that Katniss is mine as it is, or that she will ever be.
Mrs. Everdeen turns back towards the door at the sound of Prim's voice. "Stay there, Prim. I need to talk to Peeta." Primrose looks frightened though and once she glances back out the door it's clear why. The Peacekeepers are frightening as it is. I know I'd be afraid of waiting alone with them if I were Primrose.
"It's alright," I say quietly, my voice thick with emotion. I don't bother wiping the tears from my face as I address Katniss' mother. It's not like it matters anymore. "I won't be coming home. I doubt there's anything that I wouldn't mind her knowing at this point. It's really alright." The widow's expression shifts from sympathy to confliction, and I smile weakly in reassurance. It really doesn't matter what Primrose knows at this point. It isn't as if what the twelve year old knows will affect Katniss in the arena – and that's all I care about. She sighs, and I can clearly see that she's tired. No doubt, she just said goodbye to her daughter.
Mrs. Everdeen swallows, and motions for Primrose to join us in the tiny room. The skinny little girl still looks panicked, but she looks relieved by her mother's verdict. She takes stiff little steps into the room, and she looks as if her fear from the reaping has not yet worn off yet. I don't blame her. I know just how she feels, except for the fact that I'm going in with Katniss. I'm sure that both of Katniss' remaining family members are just as crushed as I am that she is going into the arena, and that she's being taken away from them. I owe it to them to get her home.
Primrose clings to her mother's skirt in the way that a small child would, but her mother doesn't even seem to notice her. No, Katniss' only surviving parent is looking only at me. I'm not sure what to expect from her. She is still sympathetic and her blue eyes are filled with a pain that is tangible. I bite the inside of my lip in trepidation, because although I know that she is nothing like my own mother, there is no telling what she's like when her child's life is on the line. From what I know from my father, she's charming. But with Katniss' life hanging in the balance, I could be dealing with an entirely different creature.
Mrs. Everdeen eventually moves, and I can nearly feel my anxiety melt away as she does. But her actions are surprising. She kneels down to my eye-level and begins brushing the tears away from my face. It occurs to me that she's acting in the way that my mother should have all along. Essentially, she's the mother that I never had. She murmurs something under her breath, something I'm sure that I wasn't supposed to hear. Just like my father, am I? That's far better than being compared to my mother. Normally, such a comparison would make me smile, but these are not normal circumstances. Quietly, Mrs. Everdeen slides onto the cushion beside me, and Primrose dutifully takes a seat at her mother's feet.
"Peeta," the older woman finally begins, but she sounds as if she's struggling to find her words. "I… I don't know if your father ever told you about this or not –"
"Yes." I cut her off, as I've heard this story a couple of times throughout my life. My father doesn't like to talk about his first love, especially so when my mother is around. I could never understand why he married my mother after falling for someone as gentle as Mrs. Everdeen. They're so different that it's mindboggling. "I know that he loved you… And I know that it didn't work out." I turn towards Katniss' mother as she looks towards the floor. Is that regret? I'll never know.
"It was a long time ago." She says softly, and I watch as she takes a gentle hold of the delicate gold chain draped around her neck. "He gave me this," she pulls her necklace out from underneath the neckline of her dress, and dangling delicately is a ring. It's beautifully crafted, with a simple golden band. The centerpiece diamond is nothing special, not too large, but it's very nice. It must have cost my father a fortune. My mother's wedding ring is not nearly as nice. Just then, I'm struck by the thought that my father may very well still love the aging beauty beside me. It explains why he's so kind to Primrose: she's her mother's spitting image. The fact that everyone loves Prim has kept his thoughts hidden. "I did love him. But…" She trails off quietly, and a gentle blush colors her cheeks.
"When it became clear that we could not continue as we had, I tried to give your father his ring back. But he refused to take it back. Not because he was in denial or anything, but because he wanted me to have it – whether or I married him or not. He told me that no matter who I went with that he would love me. I suppose he saw this as me keeping a piece of him. And I could never bring myself to sell it. I've been trying to think of a way to give it back to him for years… Peeta, do you have a token yet?"
A token is the very last thing on my mind. Why would I worry about bringing a piece of home into the arena when I've got Katniss to be worried about? I shake my head for an answer and she continues. "Since you don't have one, I would like you to take this. I've never been able to give it back. Trying to give it to one of your brothers would have been suspicious, and I did not want to upset your mother. Here, take it." Quickly, she unclasps the chain from her neck and takes my hand. She places the ring in the center of my palm, and lets the chain pool up around it. Firmly, she closes my hand around it, and I can feel the diamond digging into my hand.
"Take it as a reminder of your father. As a piece of home." She looks straight at me, and my icy eyes meet with her darker blue ones. Somewhere, hidden beneath the lines and dark circles under her eyes is a youthful happiness. It's a happiness that hasn't visited her face in far too many years. "I know that this is not the same as having him there with you, but it has his love in it. Let that comfort you." And as the words leave her mouth, I know that she isn't just talking about my father. Subtly, she's slipping Katniss in here as well. I don't know if she knows how I feel, but it doesn't matter. I'll be getting her out of there alive regardless of what her mother does or doesn't know.
"I will." I say firmly, promising her that I'll do as she says. But we both know that I'm not just talking about the ring. I see relief flood her eyes and she suddenly pulls me into a hug.
And then the Peacekeepers call for her to and Primrose to leave, and I suddenly don't want her to go. She's the mother that I should have had, and by all rights, I should have had her love growing up. "Goodbye, Peeta." She says softly, and kisses my cheek. And there, I can feel the lingering love that she still holds for my father. I feel myself choking up again, and I'm unable to say anything as she and Primrose leave my sight forever. I know that I have time to allow for more visitors, but I doubt that anyone else will come. Instead, I take this opportunity to try and steady my emotions. I feel as if I'm about to cry, and there's no point in holding it in and falling apart in front of Katniss. For the next ten minutes I weep, stifling my cries into one of the plush velvet pillows. As my time draws to a close, I hear a knock on my door. The Peacekeepers will be coming in any minute now.
Quickly, I wipe my nose on the pillow as a final retaliation to the Capitol, and take the ring out of my fist. I've been clutching it so tightly I'm relieved to see that it's still intact. I shakily clasp the gold chain around my neck and drop the ring underneath my shirt. It will stay safe there.
Just as I pull my hands away from the back of my neck two of the Peacekeepers come into the room and take my arms. Of course, they won't be holding me like this all the way to the Capitol, or even all the way to the train station. But for some reason, they've decided that I'm most likely to run away in the Justice Building, especially so now that the entire District knows that I am to compete. And they think we're the stupid ones.
Just like last time, I'm treated with a surprising amount of decency, as far as gentleness goes. If they weren't Peacekeepers, and I wasn't heading to my death, I'd even say that they were happy to be here. I'm not quite dragged back out of the front doors of the Justice Building. I'm surprised to see that the square is totally empty, even the stage is gone. As I think back to previous years, I remember that most people want to leave as quickly as they can and get back on with their lives. After all, who wants to linger in a place where you can nearly taste the fear? The square is really the only nice place in all of 12, and the bright atmosphere that it would have is totally ruined by the reaping. It seems that the District is only just recovering the ordeal when the reapings roll around again.
Maybe that's the way the Capitol wants it to be.
And there, waiting for me just before the marble steps is a shiny black car. That's the car that's taking me to my doom, as far as I'm concerned. Not many people in District 12 can afford cars, and I've only seen few besides the shiny black ones that the Capitol uses for sanctioned duties. Since traveling between Districts is illegal, and the residents of the Capitol hardly have reason to leave their utopia, I've only ever seen black cars used for the transportation of tributes. While I've never been in one of the menacing automobiles myself, I've seen it broadcast plenty of times. Usually, we only ever see Careers stepping into the cars that are taking them on to glory, but every so often you can catch sight of District 7, or even 10 loading up. You never see 12 though. There isn't really anything that special about coal dust dirtied barbarians loading up into the spotless cars.
I'm lead down the stairs, and then the Peacekeeper on my right opens the car door for me unceremoniously. I let myself slide onto the leather seat, and the door is quickly shut behind me. The windows have been blacked out, and there's a barrier between myself and the front seats. I can't see anything except for the tiny rectangle of space that is the backseat. It hits me then that I won't ever see District 12 again. I didn't even bother looking towards the bakery that's been my only home. But it's a hollow idea. I already knew that I wasn't going to be coming back.
I'll miss a few of the people though, especially my father and Mrs. Everdeen. As I think of Katniss' mother, the ring suddenly feels cold against my skin. The circumstances that brought me that ring are laughable. I lean back into the dark seat of the car, letting the cushion mold itself around my shoulders. Am I doing the right thing? Back in the Justice Building, it seemed like Mrs. Everdeen really did care about me. But of course, she'd want her own child over me. My own mother prefers Katniss over me.
After a few minutes spent in silent thought, the left door of the car opens and Katniss slides onto the seat. The door slams behind her, leaving us both in the dark. Just then, I hear the engine of the car start to life, and we begin slowly pulling away from the Justice Building. She doesn't say anything and neither do I. Quickly we drive through District 12 and arrive at the train station. I've never been her either. Since traveling between Districts is forbidden, there's never been any reason for me to come down here. They're only sending precious coal off towards the Capitol, as that's the only thing that we produce here in 12. And of course, here's where the tributes are picked up. But I don't think it's legal for spectators to come here. Not that anyone would want to see two children off to their death.
Katniss and I are practically shoved out of the car, and set to stand before the milling paparazzi. I stand stiffly, hoping that I don't look absolutely terrified. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Katniss doesn't even look as if she's been crying. In fact, she looks even stronger than she did at the reaping. Without a respite, the cameras begin flashing. The lights are incredibly bright, and it's very hard not to shut my eyes. But the last thing I want to do is make District 12 look dimwitted as that could cost Katniss and I the sponsors I need to keep her alive. I glance over at the camera that's taking the live feed of us, and I suddenly realize that I haven't gotten a chance to clean up since crying in the Justice Building. My eyes are bloodshot, and my nose is red. I look panicked, insecure, and utterly weak.
I have the sinking feeling that I've just ruined any chances that I had for getting sponsors. And with that, I've just dragged Katniss' chances of survival down significantly.
Well, he had to get a token from somewhere! Let me know your thoughts! :)