(A/N: If you want a further description of Everest, then go look at my profile. Here's chapter ten...)
CHAPTER TEN
No doubt I remember Finnick, after all, my parents had just explained him to me yesterday.
How he had advanced skill with a trident, what the old president did to him, his wedding to Annie in thirteen, his death caused by the mutts; and what is probably considered the worst of all, how his son is like a living, breathing replica of him. A quality in which I have never noticed before.
"Hi Everest." I almost whisper, afraid to disrupt the silence.
"Hello Tree." Everest smirks, knowing that I completely despise my childhood nickname. I scowl at him. Stupid, immature idiot.
I am thoroughly considering punching him right now, when I hear my fathers voice.
"Annie, Everest. It's nice to see you again." He says. Beside him, my mother nods in agreement, carefully thinking over the situation.
Annie rapidly comes to her senses at the sound of my fathers voice. "Hello Katniss, hello Peeta." she replies before turning to Asher and I. "And Willow and Asher. My, you two have gotten big." she says, her voice foreign and distant. I force a smile to play itself across my lips.
There is, yet again, silence dominates all.
"Why don't we head back?" my dad suggests hesitantly. A chorus of agreement escapes all of our lungs, and we soon start off.
On the way home, I walk next to Everest and behind everyone else. "You know your mom is a Victor right?" I bring the topic up casually. Everest erupts into a loud guffaw as if I told the most humorous joke when actually it's the complete antithetic. My parents turn their heads towards us questioningly.
When he finally stops laughing and my parents resume to there previous position, he explains the reason for his sudden outburst. "You know Tree, that is the most unintelligent thing you could ever ask me." I scowl, once again; but Everest continues. "Of course I know that!"
"Oh." I pause. "Stop calling me Tree!" I retort, annoyed, while wordlessly agreeing with his previous words.
"Whatever you say...Tree." He begins to laugh again. Seriously? Suddenly his expression turns serious, and for once he acts his age. "So they told you about the Games?" he asks, his voice inaudible to everyone but me. I nod blandly. "When?"
"Yesterday."
"Oh." Our verbal dissemination is kept to a minimum the rest of the way home.
As we approach the steps, I hear a loud crash coming from Haymitch's house. Knowing Haymitch, it can't be anything pleasant. I decide against investigating further, because that just means preparing for the worst and I don't really feel like doing so at the moment.
I notice Asher who has been surprisingly speechless the whole trip. "Asher, are you okay" I ask him while my parents go show Annie and Everest the guest bedroom. He slowly nods his head, not really sure as to what to say. I give him a concerning look before walking towards the kitchen table.
I grasp a piece of paper and pencil, and then begin to sketch.
My pencil is just creating the outlines when my dad walks into the room. He glances over my shoulder momentarily before speaking. "Nice mockingjay." I look up at him in astonishment.
"How did you know it was a mockingjay? I just started."
He chuckles. "Because you always repeat your sketches over and over again, and you have drawn a mockingjay before." he explains.
To my surprise, his words are veritable. I do draw things repetitively. I think back to all of the times in which I have sketched the bird. In the kitchen, in the meadow, while sitting on the couch; all in which my dad was present. I guess I have never acknowledged him observing me.
My dad leaves the room, and then soon returns with his own sketch pad and pencil. He takes a seat across from me and beings drawing his own picture, while I continue on mine.
Am working on its wings when curiosity suddenly creeps up on me. I glance up at my dad, only to find an austere looking expression on his face. I attempt at resisting the urge to look at his picture, but end up unsuccessful. I eventually find myself slowly walking towards him, using hunting steps, so I don't disrupt his productivity.
As I approach him, he drops his sketch pad and the pencil that was once in his hand, now hits the floor with a plunk. "Dad?" I question softly. He begins to grip the edge of the table so hard, that his knuckles turn white. Trepidation consumes me, and I have no idea as to why. I have seen this happen numerous times, but why does it never fail to frighten me?
"Mom!" I screech, just barely able to make out the words. She and Everest almost immediately burst into the room.
"What's wrong?" she asks, concerned. I just point in my dads direction.
Everest gives me a sympathetic look and helps guide me out of the room while my mother tends to my dad.
When we reach the living room, I still have not spoken a word. Everest acknowledges this and then says, "Don't worry Willow. Doesn't this normally happen?" I don't reply.
I am not worried, or scared, but just deep in thought. On his paper, was not an animal, or a plant – the usual things he draws – but only a portrait of me.