Chapter IX
...
The weather has changed substantially in the past week. The wind has picked up and the air has become cold. Jeans and a jacket have become a common occurance in my apparel. And there was no doubt that it would be getting worse as the weeks went on and fall turned into winter.
Now as I sit on the concrete ground between the first row of bleachers and the metal railing that screaming parents would lean over yelling at the coaches during football games, a soft breeze blows across the field. It is light and chilly and... nice, mangable.
As the wind blows, it turns the fins of the anemometer on top of the field shed. It creates a constant, rustic beat that is neither too loud nor too soft. Its familiar... rhythmic... nice.
And as I sit there I subconsciously begin to hum along and then...
I clap twice.
Tap my pen against the railing three times.
Clap.
Patter my fingers against my thighs five times.
Clap.
Patter twice.
Tap three times.
Cl-
"Still got it sweetheart."
I freeze, quickly collecting my marble notebook and what-not off the ground into my bag.
"Don't know why ya gave it up."
"I just did," I snap as I turn to face him.
He nods his head, changing the subject. "Why did you skip out on your sixth period English class?"
"It's still fifth." I tell him in a matter-of-fact-tone.
But Haymitch shakes his head telling me otherwise. "Its three fifteen sweetheart."
I look to him muddled. Huh? What was he talking about? No. Three fifteen? No, that would mean that school was out. That would mean I skipped out on three classes. No, it was fifth, fifth period. I was in free, I was in study hall. I decided to come out to the football field to write, to be alone. It wasn't even twelve o'clock yet, right?
Confused and hazed, I turn to face Haymitch again as if he held all the answers. But instead of saying anything, he points to the field. And so turning to see what he is pointing at, I turn to see the football team doing their warm ups.
No, I think, no. It couldn't be. But... how did that happen... it wasn't fifth period... Haymitch had to bbe right... it was three fifteen.
And as if he knew what I was thinking, he nods his head. "Bad day."
Yes. Bad day. And it wasn't I-have-bad-hair-types-of-days or I-rolled-of-the-wrong-side-of-bed-days either, it was something completely different. It was a bad day. I have had them for years, but in the last months they have become substantially worse. They were just days when I zoned out and time didn't exist. Yet Haymitch knew. He had seen me at my worse and best. He had seen me drunk... angry... upset... post-sex... happy... mental... sober... fazed... blubbery. He had seen me at every possible moment in my life, he knew a bad day when he saw one.
Watching me with concern, he says, "Just go see Cinna before first bell tomorrow. He said you only missed reading a few pages from some book he handed out today. Okay?"
I nod my head.
Haymitch looks at me sheepishly before sitting down on the bleachers and patting the open seat beside him. And so with nothing else to do I sit down beside him.
We don't talk following this. Haymitch blows the whistle on his keychain and shouts words and plays that I don't bother to make sense of.
Time goes by and I'm not sure how much time, but when I snap out of it, I'm sure its at least two or so hours later. The sun had become lower in the sky, closer to the horizon than before. The sky was tinted a light blue that shaded a darker blue the further it went up in the sky with soft neon highlights of orange and pink throughout. Haymitch was no longer sitting beside me, but down along the sideline of the football field talking to Patterson, Peeta, and a curly haired brunette boy that I didn't recognize.
As they talk with one another, Haymitch makes wild hand motions and gestures, pointing to areas along the field along the field I suppose. They talk for serveral minutes straight before Haymitch dismisses them, but Peeta who Haymitch grabs by the arm is held back.
Haymitch talks quickly with Peeta who obediently nods his head when Haymitch pauses looking for a response. Haymitch talks a little longer after a few nods from Peeta before taking a long pause and pointing up at the bleachers at me.
Peeta nods his head at whatever Haymitch says and Haymitch grunts only to look up at me with a smile, "Be good," and then he turns walking away. Together, no more than ten feet apart, Peeta and I watch Haymitch walk away. And it isn't till Haymitch has disappeared past the parking lot fence that Peeta speaks up.
"Um," he says holding his hand up at me as if he is telling me to stay, "Give me a minute." Then he pickes his football helmet up off the ground and begins to run toward the school, past the fence and into the door to the guys' locker room.
And the wierd thing is that I actually wait for Peeta. I stayed. I don't know why, but my body doesn't move nor bother to mover or even think about it. For whatever reason, I sit and wait, actually listen for once.
Minutes go by before I see Peeta emerging the school no longer in his football uniform, but a pair of jeans and a grey sweatshirt with his bookbag in hand. Out the door be begins walking in my direction. Its then that I stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder and begin to make my way to the parking lot.
I end up metting him at the fence. He smiles as we encounter one another, "You ready?"
"Ready?"
He nods his head. "Ready, to go home?"
I look to him confused. Was Peeta talking about taking me home? To his house or mine? Wait why was he offering me a ride? I had my bike, didn't he know that?
Realizing my confusion, Peeta speaks up. "Haymitch told me I was taking you home," he says running his hand through his hair, "Your bike is broken or something he said."
Still puzzled I turn to look across the parking lot under the tall oak where I parked my bike this morning. Only thing is, it isn't there.
It isn't there. What? How? I parked it there this morning. Thats how I got to school. I rode to the Hob in the morning to pick up my pay check and Sae gave me a bagel. Then when straight to school. I parked it under the oak. I couldn't understand why it wouldn't be there unless- Shit. Shit. Shit. Haymitch that bastard. Be good. Be good my ass. That dick took my bike. Ass. Shit. Butt.
Letting out a groan, Peeta looks to me concerned. And not wanting him to know what shit Haymitch is playing him with I clench my jaw and let out an aggravated breath.
"You okay," he asks.
I nod my head and try to do my best to act as if I'm not about to exploded. "Yeah, fine. Ready?"
...
Opening the car door, Peers steps out of the jeep. Then turning to me he looks to me as if he is waiting for me to do the same.
"Are you coming," he asks. "Haymitch said you needed some things form the bakery."
And then it makes sense. We weren't parked outside the bakery because needed to pick something before taking me home, but because Haymitch told him some shit that I needed something from bakery.
Not bothering to tell him otherwise, I nod my head and step out onto the sidewalk along the bakery.
Peeta rushes around the jeep and to the bakery door, opening it for me like the polite gentleman he is. And so walking into the bakery, behind the counter is Rye. And I don't know why, but I pause at the sight of him only for second before feeling Peeta behind me and taking a step forward.
"Hey Everdeen," he smiles deviously, "How you doing?"
But before I can respond, Peeta cuts in as he jumps over the counter. "Shut it Rye."
And surprisingly he does. Yet he does give me another smile along with a wink behind Peeta who opens a brown paper bag asking, "What would you like?"
Not sure I think. "Um," I drag out, "A few egg bagels and... some cheese buns."
Peeta nods and gets right to work, filling the brown paper bag. Then when filled he folds the top and staples it shut before hopping over the counter again.
Then as he hands the bag to me I reach for my wallet only to hear Peeta's voice stop me. "Haymitch paid already."
And doing my best not to graon aloud, I clench my fist and nod my head, taking the bag in my hand.
Then heading for the door Peeta again politely opens it for me. And as I walk through the door, I look back to see Rye smiling broadly at me.
...
Peeta pulls his jeep along side the sidewalk outside my house. I'm not sure how Peeta knew where I lived, but somehow he successfully found his way here. I knew that a week ago he drove me home when Finn had his date and the wagon crapped out on him, but even with that in mind, a one time drive, I would not expect Peeta to remember where I lived without him asking a question or two. Yet when asking him, he waved it off. He said he went passed my street or something on his way to Thresh's house. And not knowing where Thresh lived I shrugged my shoulders and decided there was no reason why I couldn't believe Peeta.
So sitting outside my house, my bike is parked in the middle of the drive and some old classic rock song is playing on the radio. We sit listening, waiting silently till Peeta breaks the silence. "I'm sorry."
What was he sorry about? No, that was a stupid question, that boy was always sorry for things he's had nothing to do with. "Sorry?"
"About Rye," he says, "For those looks he was giving you at the bakery."
"Oh, it was no big deal Peeta."
"No, Katniss," he says sternly, "It wasn't right. It was inappropriate. He shouldn't have made those faces. I should have done something about it."
About to open my mouth to tell him otherwise, I quickly shut it.
He didn't know. Peeta didn't know. How did Peeta not know that his brother and I hooked up? Didn't he hear the rumors, stories about me? Wasn't that something brothers told each other, who they hooked up with?
But I mean we didn't do that much. We got handsy and that was about it. Nothing too much. And it was only a coupl times. It wasn't that big of a deal.
So keeping my mouth shut I nod my head. We sit in silence for a few moment before I realize I should go. This strapping my bag over my shoulder and taking the Mellark bakery bag in hand I give Peeta a smile. "Um, thanks."
He smiles, "Any time."
I open the door, stepping out. "Cya."
"Bye Katniss."
And then across the lawn I slip into my house and stand against the door as if I am guarding it till I hear Peeta's jeep rumbling down the street.
When I'm sure he is gone, I make my way through the house and into the kitchen where I place the Mellark bakery bag in the refrigertor beside the jar of pickles in there only after taking one of the cheese buns from the bag.
So chewing on the cheese bun, I make my through the house till I find myself standing in the doorway of my room. My room is bare. I don't know why that matters, but it is. And as I stand there I cant help, but take in how over the years as my life has become more and more empty. The more empty it become the worse my "bad days" became.
Yey today was different. It was still a bad day, but Peeta... he wasn't so bad. He was different, and in a good way.
