Surprise! A new chapter! I didn't have this one written when I posted last week; it just sprang full-formed from my head like Athena on Sunday. So just be thankful with me and don't expect it to happen again! :-P
I like the lyrics of 30 Seconds to Mars's "A Beautiful Lie" that I also used it for the title of this chapter. Suzanne Collins, of course, owns the characters and associated material, and other lyrics are credited as appropriate.
Thank you for reading!
Last time, in Smoke Rising...
"Does she love me?" I ask.
"What do I look like, a mind-reader?" he laughs.
"You think you have me all figured out," I remind him.
"Some people are just easy to read," says Haymitch. He squints out into the rain and pinches some more crumbs off for the geese.
"But you two are so alike. You're saying you can't read her?"
He pauses for a moment before answering, "I suppose she feels the same about you as she did before. They didn't take anything from her like they did you." He taps his head with a crusty finger.
"Well there's a frustrating answer," I sigh. "I might as well ask a flower if she loves-me-not."
"If the answer means that much to you, why don't you ask her yourself?"
"It doesn't matter to me." I pull myself up from the stoop and back into the rain. "I told you, I can't love her. So it doesn't matter."
"You might not remember, but it never mattered before, either," Haymitch calls after me. "You went right on feelin' how you felt without regards to if she loved you back." His bread crumbs scatter past me, right up to the half-swimming goose.
Bread being tossed in the rain – now, that I remember.
Smoke Rising Chapter 7: A Beautiful Lie
"Try to let go of the truth
The battles of your youth
'Cause this is just a game.
It's a beautiful lie."
- "A Beautiful Lie," 30 Seconds to Mars
The weather has cooled considerably, and the recent rains have brought a chill to the air that urges me to get my harvest done before we have a freeze. I'm digging up my planter of sweet potatoes when I hear my name from down the street.
"Good gracious!" calls the brightly-dressed woman in her distinctive accent. "Just look at you!" Her heels click-click-click as she tries to rush, but she almost slips on the wet sidewalk.
"Effie?" I see it, but I don't believe it. In seconds, I'm near enough to hug, but too muddy to take the chance. Even so, I politely take the wheeled bag Effie is dragging. It's pumpkin orange, like the rest of her: dressed for the harvest.
"Oh, Peeta, Peeta, let me get a look at you, my dear!" she gushes, halting in the brisk morning to inspect me. I'm just in shirtsleeves and work pants. And dirt, of course. She had to see me right when I was knee-deep in new sweet potatoes.
"Would you like to come inside?" I ask, hoping equally for a yes, so I can get warm and scrubbed up, and a no, because my house isn't what I would call Effie clean.
Effie's bronze-polished fingers are pressed to her mouth, and she gives a simple nod, still looking me over. There is a sparkle of tears in her eyes.
"Forgive the mess," I say, slipping my boots off by the door and parking Effie's bag nearer the clean kitchen. "If I had known you were coming, I would have straightened up."
Effie, who has wandered quietly into my living room, spins around. "You didn't know? Oh, dear. I'm so sorry. I called the other house, and with no answer, I sent a letter. I don't know why I didn't – I just thought you would both be in the other house."
The other house? Katniss's house?
"And I certainly thought Haymitch would have discussed my visit with you," she continues, looking so upset that I feel the need to say something quickly.
"Well, Katniss doesn't answer the phone much. I'm not even sure she checks her mail. It's nice to have you here, regardless."
Effie purses her lips. "Will we," she asks, glancing around, "be seeing Katniss?"
She really thinks we live together. I almost laugh aloud. I haven't seen Katniss in weeks, and Effie thinks we live together! I sidestep into the kitchen and lather up my hands and arms with the water running to give me a minute.
"I'm sure she's just at the other house," I call. I bring the hand towel with me to the living room. "I've been gardening all morning, so I haven't seen her yet today. Would you like to go see her now while I get changed?"
Effie looks over my clothes once again before agreeing to my suggestion. I feel bad knowing that Katniss will be caught completely off-guard by Effie's visit, and my subsequent one, but all I can do is call to warn her, and we've already established that she doesn't answer the phone.
By the time I get to Katniss's, I'm expecting her to open the door with a glare. But she opens the door before I can even knock, and it's immediately apparent that we are reprising our roles as the lovers Effie escorted around Panem.
"There you are! We were wondering how long you would keep us waiting!" She stands on her toes and brushes a kiss against my cheek and then closes the door.
Effie is in the dining room, inspecting the empty china cabinet that came with the house. "This is just lovely," she says to Katniss. "Is that mahogany?"
"I dunno," Katniss replies brightly, which is just rude enough to get Effie to look up, but when she sees me standing in the entryway with Katniss, her alarmed expression melts.
I ask, "Have you served the tea yet, Katniss? Or were you waiting for me?" I know she hasn't served anything. That's why I brought cheese buns.
"I... was waiting."
"That's sweet of you." I return her kiss on the cheek and turn into the kitchen. "But you shouldn't keep our guest waiting. How do you like your tea, Effie? Katniss, you go ahead and visit with Effie in the living room. I don't mind." And, at her cue, Katniss shows Effie to a seat.
From the kitchen, I can overhear some of the conversation, though I lose a few snippets to the sounds of running water and whistling steam. It sounds like travel is restricted between the Capitol and District 12, to which our peace here can probably be attributed – the trip is not very Capitol-friendly. Effie had to take a train to District 6, where she had to get a pass to visit our district specifically, then she had a connection via hovercraft to 13, and another train here. Only Districts 8, 11, and 13 will connect to 12, and the visitor's pass sounds difficult to attain; you have to be visiting family or on a business opportunity.
"That's how I got here," she shares as I set the tea on the coffee table. "Everyone knows how close we are. I got to claim you as family."
Katniss and I exchange glances before I smile at Effie. I say, "I think that's exactly right, Effie," and I lean over to fill her teacup.
My good manners put her at ease. She picks up her cup and takes a sip. "But if you aren't following the news, you don't know about the elections?" Her drawn-on eyebrows threaten to disappear into her harvest-colored wig.
"What elections?" Katniss and I ask in unison.
"Well, President Paylor says we need to leave the old Panem behind us. She says the districts have been trained to work against each other and against the Capitol. Of course, many of us in the Capitol disagree with her, but she's proposing that we strive for unity, and who can be against that? So, we are doing away with the numbers – 'a ranking system,' she called it – and now each citizen of Panem gets two votes – two districts. So many people have moved, you see, and some districts were..." Effie swallows, "damaged so heavily... everyone gets to claim two districts. You can vote on a new name and also a representative. Of course, some of the districts have become so small that I don't know who will represent them – do you even have a mayor here?" We tell her that we do not, and Effie tuts. "But the naming vote has been a popular issue. Everyone has an opinion. It's all very exciting!"
Some of the old, bubbly Effie is beginning to show again.
"When are the elections?" asks Katniss.
"Oh, it should be any day now! I don't know if you will have polls here, since there is no local government, but there are mail-in ballots as well. You really should turn your TV on every once in a while."
"I guess we're just a little busy," Katniss says as she squeezes my hand conspicuously. Effie notices the movement, but her forehead puckers just a bit.
"I'm so sorry for the confusion about my visit," she says. "I sent the letter to this house, but I suppose you must have never gotten it. It was a quite a bit of luck that I happened upon Peeta outside – I never would have known what house to go to!"
She is asking us why the separate houses but trying not to pry. This is the part where Katniss tells Effie that we don't live together, we don't get along, we're mentally disoriented, and she can't even look at me without me thinking it's some signal to kiss her.
"Oh, we're so selfish," says Katniss, looking at her lap. "We just got so used to two houses, we can't give one up!" She looks up with an embarrassed-looking smile, her cheeks faintly dotted with pink. "Sometimes mail and things just get lost in the shuffle."
It's well played. The Capitolite in Effie will understand how hard it can be to give up creature comforts like fine houses and solid wood furniture. Effie smiles back sympathetically and changes the subject herself.
I remember what Haymitch said about me loving Katniss, and I realize I must have misunderstood him. Of course I love Katniss, as a friend. We all love her. And why not? She's bright, strong, fiercely independent, loyal... Let's face it, the girl is beautiful. And compelling! Sure, some people might think she's rude and unfriendly, but she's only speaking her mind. And I don't know anyone who stands up for something or someone they care about the way Katniss does. Yes, I misunderstood what Haymitch was saying, and I was wrong to contradict him. I love her absolutely.
But, as we sit in the living room, listening to Effie talk about how popular gold still is in the Capitol and how long it's going to take to get used to the new district names, Katniss curls up next to me on the couch with her feet tucked beneath her and strokes my arm. A thrill of something – terror, excitement – courses through me while tail-ends of memories and the shimmer of tracker jacker venom and the pleasure of the touch all crash together and make the hair on my arms stand on end.
I look at Katniss, hoping she can read my mind and stop it with the stroking. She does look at me, but instead her hand slips down to mine, intertwining our fingers and leaning her head on my shoulder. While this is less goosebump-inducing than the former caress, it is a closer gesture. I imagine holding her in my arms. Kissing her. Tearing her apart. Calling her the mutt she is. Is not. Beads of sweat break on my brow, and I pull my hand away to brush my forehead dry.
When Effie begins telling us about how many old friends of hers have moved out to the districts, Katniss's hand begins the stroking again. Back and forth. Back and forth. I notice, at some point, that my foot is jiggling nervously, bouncing against the floor in a soft tch-tch-tch-tch. I wipe my palms on my pants and cast a glance at Katniss, hoping she will notice how anxious she is making me.
Effie talks on, counting out names on her fingers, and Katniss nods in a sympathetic manner. Back and forth her fingers go. Back and forth.
Tch-tch-tch-tch.
"I hope I'm not intruding," Effie gazes between us with the smile of someone who thinks they have been let in on a secret. "You keep looking at Katniss so."
"No, not intruding. I just wonder if I might have a moment alone with her?" I jump to my feet, slipping my arm from that dangerous hand. "Can I get you anything from the kitchen? More tea? Another bun?"
"Oh, please don't bother. I'll just go freshen up, if I may."
Katniss, who has been staring incredulously in my direction from her seat, manages a polite response to Effie. We watch her walk down the hall to the bath and hear the click of the door.
"What are you doing?" I whisper hoarsely.
"Me? You're the one getting all jumpy."
Since she refuses to stand, I squat down beside her. "Do we really have to start acting again? I thought we were past all the games."
She stares at me, hard, before asking, "What do you want to do? Tell her the truth?" The way she says truth sounds wet and hateful.
I think, Yes, that's exactly what I want to do, but I say nothing. I don't want to start a fight while Effie is just down the hall; I just want to stop pretending.
"No, we don't live together. And we aren't married, either," Katniss says mockingly. "In fact, we alternate fighting and doing stupid things, then not talking to each other for weeks at a time."
Stupid things like kissing her, she means.
"Okay," I concede, "we don't have to tell her the truth. But surely we don't have to play the old gig again. Can't we just act friendly? We don't have to..." I pause.
"Touch," Katniss finishes. Her lips pucker for a second as she considers. She doesn't look offended or anything. Just compliant, like I've handed her new stage directions. She nods. "Okay. We can do that."
The door down the hall opens again and Effie walks tentatively back into the living room with that little smile on her face.
"Should I give you another moment?" she asks.
"No, Effie, thank you," I say, pulling up from the floor and waiting for Effie to take her seat again before I take mine.
It's much easier to talk without the physical contact. I manage to cover up the minor etiquette blunders Katniss makes, and she rewards me with such warm smiles that I'm sure Effie doesn't even notice we aren't touching anymore. We keep our hands next to each other on the couch, except when Katniss laughs and I hover my hand just behind her back as she doubles over. It's nice, actually. I get to make caring gestures to Katniss without worrying about how they make me feel. And I get to talk with her, kindly and freely, when we would otherwise be sequestered away in our separate houses.
Around one o'clock, Katniss turns from Effie to me and says, "Usually Peeta makes the lunches around here, Effie." She smiles with her eyebrows raised. "What can he get for you?"
"There's not much but soup or sandwiches," I smile at Effie as well. "But if you have any requests, I'd be glad to see what I can whip up."
For some reason Effie looks caught off-guard. She glances around for the clock, sees the time, and stammers, "I'm, ah, actually not hungry just yet. All the tea and buns." She looks at us and smiles weakly. "But you two go ahead and eat. I don't mind."
Since Katniss and I have already eaten more than we usually do for lunch, neither of us is hungry, either. Politeness failed us this time.
"Well, would you like to take a walk around town?" Katniss looks a bit lost herself. "There isn't much to see... but lots of room for improvement."
I'm proud of her for finding a silver lining for Effie. But Effie shakes her head, her expression tight.
"Not yet, thank you. Please, don't delay your lunch on my account."
Katniss and I exchange looks and go into the kitchen.
"Did I do something wrong?" she whispers.
"No," I assure her. "Perfect hostess." I make some fresh tea and bring out the pot to refill Effie's cup. She is standing by the front door, looking out the window toward the end of the street.
"Would you like some more tea, Effie?"
She whirls around, sees me standing there by her cup, and plasters a wide smile on her orange lips. "Oh, maybe one more cup," she says, tottering back over to me. "Such good manners!" At the last, her voice breaks, and she pats me on the shoulder. When she picks up her tea, a tiny shimmer drips from her cheek.
"I'm so proud of you," she sniffles. The teacup and saucer rattle in her hands.
I hate to see Effie so unwound this way. I squat down next to her chair so she can see me looking up to her. "Is something bothering you, Effie?"
"No, not at all," she says, taking a steady breath then a long sip of tea. She sets the cup down and puts her hands on my shoulders. "You and Katniss are growing into such beautiful people." Her voice is steady and her eyes are wet but not tearing up anymore.
"Thank you," I say politely. "That's kind of you to say."
"I'm so glad you have each other," she adds, giving my shoulders a squeeze. Her smile now is an honest one, shy and close-lipped.
I don't trust myself to say the right thing to that, so I just nod and place a hand over one of Effie's.
She glances to the door again.
"Would it be terribly rude if I went out for a while?" she asks, her voice far away.
"Whatever you like," I tell her. "I can take you to-"
"Oh, that won't be necessary," she says, looking back at me. She whispers, "I won't be alone." Her eyes crinkle and I feel that either she is going crazy or she is privately enjoying something.
I stand up and offer her my hand to help her from her seat, which earns another look of pride. Taking my arm, she asks quietly if I might take her back to the other house to fetch her suitcase. Katniss leaves the kitchen to give Effie a hug before the two of us head back out into the chilly day, down the street to my house. Once Effie has her orange bag rolling along the sidewalk again, she walks very slowly so that I will be closed up in Katniss's house before she reaches her destination.
Hours later, Katniss and I sit out on the porch swing in front of her house, bundled up and listening to shrieks of laughter.
"I wish I could see what they were doing," says Katniss. "I didn't know Effie could laugh like that and I'd love to know what causes it."
"It's the geese," I say. "I heard her say they were splashing her."
"That's bad news for her clothes."
"It didn't sound like she minded."
The laughter continues, now with an added percussion of some kind.
"They wouldn't kill the goslings, would they?"
I chuckle. "I don't think so."
"Well," Katniss stares off, imagining, "what could be making that noise?"
"I'm not sure I want to know."
Katniss looks at me with a mixture of shock and amusement. "You don't think that Haymitch and Effie would...?"
I shrug. "They've been friends a long time."
I don't know why, but that makes us both go quiet. I look away, up the block.
"At least she's distracted. She won't notice me leaving to sleep in my own house tonight." I should probably go now, while I have the chance. I don't want to have to sneak home.
"You could stay," says Katniss. She breathes in. "There are two extra beds." We both look at the blue painted boards at our feet. She's not asking me to stay; she's just letting me know that I don't have to sneak.
I stand up. "Thanks anyway." I start for the steps.
"Peeta?" I turn back to see her standing, hanging on the swing's chain, letting the cold metal press against her cheek. "I'm sorry. About the physical stuff. I didn't think about it being tough for you."
"It wasn't so bad," I say. I've been much worse, so it's not really a lie. She levels her eyes at me though, and I start feeling guilty. If she can apologize for touching my arm, I should apologize for kissing her last month. But it hurts to think of bringing it up now and admitting I crossed a line. Besides, it's not like she was in danger of having a breakdown, like me. That doesn't make us even, really; but it makes me feel a little better, because I don't want to apologize and she looks so sweet and sorry that I just can't think about it right now.
I step nearer, then stop myself. Ask first. I hold out my arms. "Can I get a hug?"
And, grinning, Katniss throws her arms around me like she thought I'd never ask.
Her dark braid brushes over my fingers, softly, playfully. She smells so good, feels solid and human and small in my arms. This is good. We should hug more often.
"We're friends, aren't we?" I ask under my breath. It's too wonderful a question to say any louder.
She doesn't say anything, but I think she heard me anyway. She holds me close for a long, long time.
"Be my friend
Hold me
Wrap me up
Unfold me"
- "Breathe Me," Sia
