You're not the one acting… As for Peeta, he's a good actor.
A good actor was what Haymitch had called him. That was why it looked like I had hurt him. He was still acting. Even if Peeta was just pretending to be hurt by what I had said, it brought me a little satisfaction. To be the one who was doing the hurting for once. And yet… there was that little part of me that wished I had just forgiven him and asked to be friends. I always made things harder for myself. Cinna was wrong; I didn't have the courage to make things okay for myself.
I allowed only Effie to talk to me. She told me the schedule for once we got to district 12. First, we would have a dinner with my family tonight, which I knew would go horribly and would be awkward. Tomorrow we would have a rally and 12's Harvest Festival. 12 always threw a Festival on the final day of the Victory Tour, and it was normally just a small meal with your family. But since Peeta and I were the victors, the Capitol would be throwing the Festival, and it was to be a huge and public affair.
Cinna walked with me into my old house, where my prepping would be. All the snow had already melted in 12. I had missed it. It was still cold out though; maybe it would snow again.
My fist knocked on the door three times, remembering when I could just walk in as I pleased. Poison opened the door. I moved so that I stood almost directly behind Cinna, cowardly.
"Well, don't you look like a lost sheep," my brother said to me. He allowed us to enter. I walked past my father.
"Ivy," he said. If I was sad, I didn't show it. But why didn't my father even say hello to me? I was still his daughter.
"Mayor Undersee," I replied with coldness in my voice. Cinna looked at my father and then at me, but he didn't comment. At least, not yet he didn't.
"You know where your room was," he said. "If you'll excuse me."
My father walked away, leaving Cinna and I with Poison. He looked like he wanted to smile at me, but he just bit his lip.
"See you later, Sis," Poison murmured, leaving as well.
"Pois…. Matt!" I said. He turned around with a smirk. "It's good to see you again."
"Good to see you too," he said, his smirk melting away to reveal the small smile I knew he would give to me. I showed Cinna and the prep team up to my room. They immediately began setting up all their tools.
"What made you decide not to live with them after the Games?" Cinna asked casually as he watched the prep team start to work on me.
"I felt they didn't want me here," I answered. Cinna nodded and dropped the conversation. It was obvious that they didn't want me here, just from hearing how my father talked to me a minute ago.
"You still have clothes in your closet," Venia commented, trying to get a conversation going again. I turned to look in my closet and saw the old clothes hanging in it. A few dresses were mine, but most of the clothes belonged to someone else. Madge.
"Those aren't mine," I stated. I gave a Cinna a desperate look, telling him I didn't want to talk about it. Cinna was about to interrupt their work when Octavia stood up in a proud manner.
"Done!" she announced. Since I was just staying here and not going out in public, a full-out makeover wasn't necessary. It made sense that they had finished within minutes of starting.
"She looks perfect," Cinna said, dismissing them. It took the prep team a couple of minutes to pack up, but soon they were out.
"What am I wearing to the dinner?" I asked.
"Well, it's just with your family, so I went for something a little less dramatic," he said, pulling out a dress.
It was a pale pink dress, with the skirt was higher in the front but fell to my ankles in the back. It had small straps and a sash that tied in the back around the waist.
Cinna helped me put it on. And then he gave me a pair of sandals. I felt more like an adult when I wore high heels, but wearing these sandals, I felt more like myself again. Like the Ivy Undersee before the Games who would wear flat shoes and visit her sister's grave everyday to talk.
I was happy that once tomorrow was over, so was the Victory Tour. No more traveling around on a train every night. I would be free to do whatever I pleased again. I could be miserable again.
I wanted to use the bathroom, so I sent Cinna ahead of me to dinner. As I was walking to the bathroom, I heard a beeping in my father's study. I wasn't allowed to go in there, but the beeping persisted. So I took a glance down the hallway and slipped silently into the room.
I found the source of the beeping. It was my father's television. I was confused; when I lived here I never remembered one of our televisions beeping. I kept watching the screen.
Suddenly, the words "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" were flashing across the screen. My face kept moving towards the screen, wanting to see more than those four words. What was the update? Then I saw an image. People were everywhere, holding up Capitol banners that had been ripped in half. Throwing bricks. Shoving Peacekeepers.
My hand covered my mouth. So this was what I had caused. This was what "unrest" looked like.
I didn't know what to do. I needed to find Haymitch. But he was probably already at dinner.
Oh, dinner.
I decided telling Haymitch about this could wait until after dinner. Quickly, I exited the study. Just as I was starting down the stairs, my father started up them. His eyes grew large as he looked at me.
"Oh, Ivy. Why aren't you downstairs?" He looked worriedly at his study.
"I was looking around," I said, "I miss it here." I bit the inside of my cheek, still hating to lie to my father.
"Oh, yes. I …" my father heard the beeping. "Sorry! Excuse me from dinner for everyone, will you?"
My father ran into the study and slammed the door shut. I stared at the door, trying not to cry. Realizing everyone was waiting, I slowly walked down the stairs.
I remembered how my father looked at me when I volunteered for Katniss. He looked like he cared for me. So why was he like this now, never saying hello or acknowledging me as his daughter? I thought he was the parent I could count on, but I was wrong. He didn't love me. I glanced back up the stairs at the room next to the study, my parent's bedroom. Was my mom in there now? Or would I see her at dinner?
I got to the dining room to find almost everyone sitting at the table, except for Peeta, Portia, and his prep team. And of course, my father, who was upstairs.
Mother sat at the head of the table. I took my seat next to Poison. He looked like he really wanted to dig into the food, but he had to restrain himself. We had to wait for Peeta to get here to eat.
I felt something hit my ankle. It was Poison's foot. I looked up at him; he nodded towards the door. Peeta was walking in. I blushed.
"Shut up," I murmured under my breath. Peeta sat down across from me.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," Peeta said with a charming smile. I could see my mom's stiffness falter a little as Peeta smiled.
"It's no problem," Poison said, since my mother had said nothing. Everyone started to eat. I started to wonder when he had gotten so mature. He hadn't said anything mean to me yet. He was polite to our guests. He was new.
I was waiting for my mom to ask about our engagement, but she didn't. I knew she wouldn't care.
Effie attempted conversation a few times, "You have a lovely home!"
"Thank you," Mom said curtly.
A long pause.
"Your yard looks fantastic!" she cried, looking out the window. I laughed to myself. My family wasn't used to people like Effie.
Soon, the dinner was over. My family waved to Haymitch, Peeta, Effie, and all the others as they left. But Poison asked me to stay a while. He handed me one of his old coats and took my out to the old backyard.
We sat down on a rotting bench. He was so different, and I almost missed the Poison that hated me. Did he find me brave now?
"They are really funny people," he said. I laughed.
"Not all of them. Cinna is normal," I said in defense. Poison nodded in agreement. Dark clouds flooded the sky; maybe it would snow.
"So, you're engaged," he said, looking down at the ground.
"Yes," I said through my teeth. I doubted Peeta and I were ever going to get married, but we were still in danger. I had to lie to my brother.
"You're too young," he stated. I cracked a smile.
"Mom didn't say anything, why should it matter to you?" I replied.
"Ivy, we've grown up for the past years terrified of the Games. How do you expect to get married and… and raise a family here?" my brother asked. I looked at him with new eyes.
We've grown up… terrified.
He had been scared. My stronger, older brother was scared of the Games. Maybe that was how he matured. Maybe he accepted his fear.
"She doesn't see it, because she doesn't care," Matt said. I knew he was talking about Mother. "But you… you lived it. Do you honestly want to marry him, and raise a family? All the while knowing that once they turn 12, they have a chance at going through what you went through," he said.
His jaw was tight, and I even noticed his eyes glistening. Was he scared for me when I was in the Games? Did he cry when Cato's sword cut me? This was not my brother. Poison didn't care for me. How could this boy sitting next to me be the boy who killed Madge?
Why was he scared for my children?
"I don't know," I responded truthfully. He finally looked at me. I used to call him ugly, with his smashed face and turned up nose. But he was grown up, and that had morphed how I saw him. He was now a man I could trust, and I was so thankful for him.
"But at least it's over now. For the both of us," he said. I grabbed his hand and smiled. Now, Poison was 19. He wouldn't have to worry about the Games. And once you won the Games, you didn't have to go back in.
But now that there were uprisings, I doubted we were safe from everything. The uprisings. District 8.
"I should get going home now," I said, needing to talk to Haymitch.
"Be safe," he murmured as I walked to my house. I wished I could've stayed and talked to him more, but I had all the time in the world. I would talk to him in a couple days once the cameras were gone.
I walked in and changed into a pair of pants and an old shirt. I ferociously wiped all the makeup off my face and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail. Once I felt comfortable, I grabbed my coat and jumped over my fence. I entered Haymitch's house and slammed the backdoor I entered from to make sure someone knew I was there.
"Sweetheart, honestly. Just use the front door!" he called from upstairs. He came down the stairs, still wearing his suit from dinner.
"Haymitch, I saw something on my dad's television," I said. He walked into his dining room, and I followed him.
Haymitch plopped down into a chair, but I remained standing. I was too anxious to sit down. During dinner, my thoughts of the uprising faded away. But now they dominated my thoughts. And scared me.
"What kind of something?" he asked, biting a nail obnoxiously.
"An uprising," I whispered, looking around nervously. "In 8."
"So, all our hard work was for not!" he called out dramatically. He dug around a box at his feet and pulled out a liquor bottle.
"Haymitch, this is serious."
"So am I! It didn't work! You two didn't do enough!" he said. I felt tears falling down my cheeks. He took a large gulp from the bottle, and then he slammed the bottle onto the table. I cringed when it broke under his hands. He used his curtain to sweep the shards onto the ground.
"What else were we supposed to do?" I asked desperately. He wasn't taking this seriously at all. All he was worried about was his bottle. His hands weren't even injured. "Haymitch, what do we do?" I screamed.
"I… I don't know!" Haymitch yelled, running his hands through what was left of his hair. This was the first time I had seen Haymitch worried. He seemed human for the first time since I had met him. He set his head down on the table and closed his eyes.
I crossed my arms and stared at Haymitch, waiting for something to happen. My whole body was shaking, so my arms tightened around me. I bit my lip so hard I felt blood. Suddenly his hand shot out, "Get me my phone."
I rushed to get the phone. Haymitch clicked a couple buttons before holding the phone up to his face impatiently.
"Who are you calling?" I asked. Haymitch held up a finger, making me wait.
"Hey! Yes, kid, obviously it's me! Get over here! I don't care what you were doing!" Haymitch angrily punched the off button and handed me the phone again. "Hang it up."
I did as he told me, before realizing.
"You called Peeta, didn't you?"
"A little slow tonight, sweetheart," Haymitch said, scratching his table with a knife. He just seemed anxious, not really sarcastic or angry. His eyes were shifty as he scanned outside.
"You inform him. I'm going home," I spat out stubbornly. Haymitch sighed.
"This is getting old. You can't avoid him forever, sweetheart. May as well grow up," he stated. I didn't answer; I just walked out his backdoor without another word.
He had it all wrong. I wasn't avoiding Peeta. I just couldn't face him yet. When I was ready, I would face him. I had already learned the hard way that I couldn't just avoid Peeta forever. I needed him too much.
Yet, Haymitch was right. I wasn't a grown up yet. My feet were still too comfortable in flat shoes. Once I was strong enough, I would mature, like my brother. But tonight wasn't that time; I was weak.
I swore to myself, that as soon as I grew up, I would make things okay between Peeta and me. And I couldn't wait for that day.