In which: Chinese food.
(super-short one, I hope you'll forgive me!)
"Do we still have chicken fingers in the freezer?" Primrose's voice sounds out next to me, drawing my attention from intense study of the darkened night outside the cab of our truck.
"I think so," I reply.
Silence resettles, as I stop at a traffic light. Windshield wipers streak across linger heavily plopping droplets from earlier. Streetlights and rear taillights alike become obscured. My whole body is tensed, and I make sure to drive slowly.
Words catch in my throat, before I can release them.
I want to ask why my sister didn't call Delly, like I told her to.
"You called Haymitch?!" I had asked, ignoring my uncle and his staff.
"I didn't want you to come all the way home."
"Haymitch, though?!"
"Woah, now, girly." My uncle's deputy sheriff, Deputy Chaff, had mocked waving smoke away from my ears. "Wrong department to set on fire."
It's the second time this week that someone's mentioned me being on fire. I'm sick and tired of it. But explosions had to wait. I hadn't wanted to say anything in front of Prim.
"Could we order Chinese food?" Prim asks, as I turn down our street.
I hesitate, trying to recall what dwindling funds still reside in my purse. I think I've got five bucks. That would probably only cover the deliveryman's tip, at best.
"Let's see what we have in the house first," I counter.
"Okay."
As I turn into Haymitch's driveway, the headlights illuminate a foreign silver vehicle pulled up out front. On the steps of our completely darkened house, a figure sits.
I keep the headlights on as I put the car into park.
"Who's that?!" Prim inquires, sounding more intrigued than nervous.
I narrow my eyes, attempting to make out the identity of our apparent visitor.
"Katniss?"
Curly blonde hair, light skin, and blue eyes.
"It's Peeta," I tell my sister, unbuckling my seatbelt and cutting the engine.
Peeta Cullen is sitting on our front stoop.
He's sitting out in the rain. He wears a raincoat, but without its hood pulled up. His hair is probably a damp mop. He's lucky there is only a quiet drizzle.
"Stay here," I tell Prim, sliding out. I zip up my jacket, tightening my windbreaker's strings, so the hood clings around my cheeks.
As I approach him, Peeta stands, tucking his hands into his coat.
I ought to say, "How are you?" or, "Sorry for worrying you over nothing."
"What're you doing here?" comes out of my lips, instead.
"You called," he replies, giving an indifferent shrug.
"I didn't mean to."
"Right," Peeta returns, voice flat. "Look, Effie said you sounded panicked-"
"Who's Effie?"
"Hi, Peeta," Primrose comes to stand next to me, giving a shy wave. She's holding her umbrella above herself, and attempts to lift it above my head.
"Hey, Prim." Peeta gives an unfairly warm smile to my sister. "I like your dress."
"Thank you," Prim murmurs. "I had a birthday party, earlier."
"I'm sure everyone was jealous," Peeta says, giving such a sincere smile that I nearly want to smack him.
"Yeah," Prim shifts, before looking between him and me. "Is Peeta getting Chinese with us?"
"Prim," I give my sister a look.
"Please? Peeta, would you want to stay for Chinese?"
I glare, but Prim is just smiling encouragingly at Peeta.
Not only has my darling sister just weaseled her way into a Chinese food dinner, but managed to make it awkward for me to uninvite my classmate.
I'm thinking no Disney channel or computer time for her. For the rest of the weekend.
Peeta, meanwhile, is looking at me.
"I'm sure he's got other things to do," I say flatly. "You're probably tired from your retreat, right?"
Peeta gives a slight shrug.
We're all distracted by a gradual change in the weather, from steady drizzle to quicker, smaller raindrops. Prim nudges me and I sigh, walking around Peeta and heading for the door. After unlocking it, Prim quickly shakes off her umbrella, before heading inside. I turn, as I stand in the doorway, and see Peeta standing there, looking so lost. Part of me wants for him to get in his shiny car and go away, but the other feels some semblance of guilt, I suppose it is.
Here he is, back from having to go across the state to get some peace of mind, and I'm wary of even letting him in my house.
Haymitch's house, I remind myself.
I grit my teeth. "Are you coming?"
Peeta's shoulders hunch up, as if in defense, before following me indoors. He hangs his coat on the coat-hook, hooking his next to mine as his boots get kicked next to my own.
Prim already has the house phone glued to her ear, telling the order to the store, on the other line. I cringe, before running to my room. Rummaging through my drawers and haphazardly-still-unpacked cardboard boxes, I come out with a grand total of twenty dollars and feel my stomach twist in knots.
I speed downstairs. Peeta, who has apparently been waiting at the base of the stairs, follows me into the kitchen. I wave my hands at Prim, for her to stop- just as she hangs up the phone.
Peeta and Prim both stare at me as if I have six heads.
"Call them back and cancel the order!" I exclaim.
"Why?" Prim frowns, audibly disappointed.
"I-" I stop myself, glancing uncertainly at Peeta. "Just do it, okay?"
"But..." Prim's brow puckers, but she sighs, before beginning to dial up the number.
I think my sister understands, but even so, there's a certain level of guilt at not being able to give her what she wants.
"It's fine, Kat," Peeta voices from behind me. I turn, sizing my 'friend' (ish) up. "I can pay."
Immediately, I can feel my cheeks flush slightly.
"I can pay," I lie, stubbornly. My pride won't let my cash shortage get in the way, I guess.
"You can pay me back another time," Peeta murmurs. I think it's quiet enough that Prim wouldn't hear, but it's all I can do not to snap for him to stuff his own charity. "Prim, don't cancel the order. I'll pay."
Prim all too happily hangs up the phone, before grinning widely at Peeta.
"Really?!"
"Yup," Peeta nods, before moving into the kitchen and asking where the dishes are.
He and Prim go about setting the table, getting drinks together. I stand in the doorway, still, watching the scene with confusion. When the doorbell rings about a forty-five minutes later, Peeta dutifully pays, not even letting me give the tip.
I can only hope he's not a tip-stiffer.
I don't want to set a bad precedence with Hong Kong Diner's delivery drivers.
Prim and I immediately dive in, scoops mountains of broccoli and chicken, pork fried rice, and an extra side of white rice. I'm so busy wolfing down my food, that I hardly notice Peeta's practically non-existent food consumption. I'm pretty sure he's doing what Prim used to do when she was really little: pushing food from one side to the other, without actually eating a single bite.
"Aren't you hungry?" I ask Peeta.
"Sort of ate a few hours ago," he admits. "Effie made me dinner when we got back."
A biting response wants to ask why he bothered letting himself get invited inside if he wasn't even hungry.
"Who's Effie?" Prim repeats my question from earlier.
"My aunt," Peeta replies evenly.
"Oh." Prim chews her food thoughtfully. "Does she live with you?"
"I live with her, actually," Peeta explains. "With her and my uncle, and their kids."
"You don't live with your mom and dad?"
"Prim," I whisper, shaking my head when my sister looks at me.
"It's fine," Peeta tells me, tone surprisingly gentle. "My mom and dad aren't around anymore."
"Like mom and Phil?" Prim tilts her head to the side. "Did they go abroad, too?"
"No." Peeta's hand tightens on his fork. He doesn't look up for a time. "They passed away."
Prim's eyes grow wide. She pushes back her chair, moving around to Peeta's side of the table and giving him a hug. My lips hang opened, a strange mixture of irritation and (almost) jealousy forming a strange knot in my stomach. I look back at my food.
Eventually, Peeta pats Prim's back, thanking her softly before she sits back down at the table.
We eat, mostly, now, in silence.
"Here!" Prim exclaims, when Peeta and I are mostly finished. The fortune cookies are dumped out from the plastic delivery bag. "It's dessert!"
She holds a cookie out to Peeta, who gives a small smile before opening his up. He easily peels apart the plastic wrapping, then cracks the hard shell in half. Removing the slip from inside the shards of cookie, Peeta smirks.
"What's it say?" Prim inquires, eagerly.
I stuff another helping of chicken and broccoli into my mouth.
"You will be hungry again in one hour," he reads.
Something akin to a grimace flickers past on his face, before another easy smile breaks across his lips. He crumbles the fortune slip, tossing it on top of his mostly-untouched food. Peeta is about to toss his cookie aside, but Prim grasps, grabbing his wrist.
"You have to eat it!" she half-yells.
Peeta hesitates, looking over at me.
"It's our rule," I share, beginning to unwrap my own fortune cookie.
"It's good luck!" Prim finishes.
"Ah," Peeta nods, lifting some bits to his lips. "In that case."
He makes a quick job of chewing up the cookie, and Prim looks to me.
I clear my throat, before reading my fortune out.
"Reach for the moon, and you might land among the stars."
I roll my eyes. It's one of my least favorite quotes. I can't say how many times I saw it quoted in the yearbook at my old school.
"Not even logistically accurate," Peeta comments, voicing my own thoughts.
I glance at him, to see he is grinning. I give a small smile in response, before nibbling on my own fortune cookie.
"What do you mean?" Prim inquires.
"No stars are between us and the moon," Peeta replies. He motions to Prim's cookie and she quickly pulls it opened.
"Love because it is the only truest adventure," Prim reads, smiling dopily.
I remember her asking me, about becoming Rory's girlfriend, and cringe instinctively. I rise, beginning to collect plates and dishes, while Prim cleans her plate of any remaining rice or chicken. I hear wood scrape the floor, and heavy footsteps behind me as Peeta follows me over to the garbage disposal. We exist in a silent harmony for a time, an awkward one that makes me avoid looking at him as he hands me dirty dishes. I begin to load the dishwasher, grateful when I see we have no more powder under the sink.
"Hey, Prim, could you get some dishwasher detergent from downstairs?" I ask, grateful when she quickly heads into the basement to get it. I listen to her retreating footsteps, before turning to Peeta. "Sorry."
He blinks at me, before frowning. "What for?"
"For..." I trail off, not sure what, exactly, that I should be apologizing for. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
"I was just surprised." Peeta's hands are stuffed into his trouser pockets, and he rests against the counter-top.
"Yeah," I offer, hesitating as I hear Prim coming back up the stairs. "Thank you, though. For coming."
"Sure," Peeta shrugs. His lips tug into a small smile. "Hey, maybe I'll need to call you to buy me Chinese food sometime."
I laugh, looking away and trying to think of a way to blurt out everything in the few minutes we have. Before I can, though, Prim is back in the room with us, and Peeta's phone is ringing. Frowning at the screen, Peeta quickly makes his goodbyes, heading for the door.
Prim heads upstairs, as I listen to Peeta's car pull away.
And I'm left with a pack of pork fried nothing.
thankyouforreading! I hope you're not disappointed, please let me know of any errors or suggestions.
The next chapter *MAY* be from Peeta's POV because reasons (I've only done one one-shot for him so I'm very tentative about that) just to give some insight from his side of the story.
pleaseplease let me know what you think xoxo