"Secrecy is the enemy of intimacy."
- Dave Willis
PART II: FOREIGN AFFAIRS
CHAPTER 12
"Did you have fun with Gale last night?" Peeta asks.
He's setting the table for breakfast. Maysi and Will are already downstairs and sitting in their chairs, waiting for Peeta to serve them.
"Yeah," I reply.
The smile that comes with the answer is forced. Yes, I had fun with Gale. We always do. He's my best friend. I can discuss almost everything with him. I can't say the same for Peeta. Our marriage has done us both well, but I've never felt as comfortable confiding in him.
Peeta sets Maysi and Will's plates in front of them. When he's done, he smiles at me. "I'm glad."
I feel the rush of guilt again. This guilty feeling has taken refuge inside of me, or so it seems. That would be the only explanation for its constant presence. To be fair, I admit that the guilt has a good reason for being. Although Gale and I have done nothing more than kiss, I still feel bad about Peeta. Him being more than completely oblivious makes it worse.
Four nights ago, Gale and I shared our first kiss in thirteen years. We both know it's wrong, that our lives would be destroyed if anyone discovered our secret, but we don't acknowledge it. To acknowledge it would be to accept it as fact and not do anything to stop it. And I can't do that. So we sin in silence.
Nonetheless, I'm meeting Gale in the woods again today. We're meeting earlier than usual, though. Making the most of our time together has been very important lately. My relationship status has become a timer over my head. We both know without speaking about it aloud that it's only a matter of time before Peeta finds out. Or before someone tells him.
"Hey, thanks for cooking."
I push my chair under the table and put my dish in the sink. Then I grab my boots, which are standing beside the back door.
"Where are you going?" Peeta asks. "It's only six thirty."
"I know," I say.
"You have to take the kids."
I groan in exasperation. "Peeta, I used to go hunting at dawn every morning up until two months ago."
"Yes, but you were always back in time to take them to school. I have to go in this morning. The workers are finishing up repairs and they need me there."
We observe each other for a while, each hoping the other will back down. Or so I selfishly thought.
"Alright, if you really want to go then I'll figure it out," Peeta says.
I realize that while I was wishing for him to give in and thought he was doing the same, he instead he was trying to find a way to make time from his work schedule for the kids. Yet another reminder of how undeserving I am.
"Thank you," I say, because it would be stupid to go back on my decision now.
And then I leave. I walk down our main street in town. It's still early, so traffic is light and the sun is just coming to the point where the sky begins to turn light blue.
When I pass the mayor's house, I feel another pang of guilt. Madge might still be here if it weren't for me. I try to envision a life where Mayor Undersee is still in control and Madge is still alive. We'd probably be good friends, seeing as her gift of the mockingjay pin brought me so much fame. I wonder if she'd approve of my daughter being named after her deceased aunt. But if the Undersees were alive, countless other families would be, as well. Even a small change like the lives of other people could change the path I took. Maybe I wouldn't have kids. Maybe I wouldn't be married to Peeta. Maybe I would be like Gale. Without a definite answer.
My teeth grind together at the thought. It reminds me of sitting beside the kitchen table, where he was sprawled across, seemingly unconscious. He had just been whipped by 12's new Head Peacekeeper for trying to sell a turkey we had shot that day. I reversed our positions for the first time, imagining that he was in my shoes. That he had volunteered, faked love for a girl he barely knew, and was engaged to her. Then I kissed him. Later, I found out that he had been awake for the kiss, or at least somewhat conscious, because he remembered it happening.
Now, as I reach the meadow and head for the fence, I reverse our positions again. I start from the beginning. What if I had been the one to befriend him, alone in the woods, both of us fatherless? And what if he had been the one to volunteer for Rory at the Reaping? He would've told me to do the same thing I had him do for me: take care of his family. And I would have. What if the female tribute professed her love for him, and he had to return it in order to keep them both alive? And then he came back to 12 with the promise of it being over, but it wasn't true, it could never be. What if he was forced into an engagement with this girl? But before they could get married, they were sent off for yet another Games. What if I was the one sitting back at home watching their Games, wondering if the girl was really pregnant, or if it was part of their survival plan? And when Gale got home safely, would I be devastated that he had no room for me because he was so worried for the life of that girl, or would I accept it for what it was and be the voice of reason, as he was for me? Would I have let Gale go and understand his resentment when the bomb that I designed killed Posy, or would I always be that girl begging to be taken back? What would I do when he ended up marrying his female victor and having two kids with her? Would I have even had the courage to come back to 12 at all? And if I did, would I be understanding when he had an affair on his wife with me, but still loved her?
One by one, the questions file in, leaving me no time to answer them. But I know without a doubt that no, I wouldn't handle it as well as Gale has. And worse yet, the conclusion that I wouldn't be able to bear sharing his affection with the mystery girl.
I can't continue hurting Gale like this. No matter the end result of our "relationship," it will inevitably end soon. Whether it is ended by me, him, or an outside force is unclear. But it will end.
Gale appears in my periphery blocking the just-risen sun and I turn my head to smile. I have to place a hand over my eyes to hide them from the glare of the sun.
"Good morning," he says cheerfully.
"You're in a good mood," I observe. "Any reason?"
He shrugs. "Not one in particular."
"Okay, tell me all the different reasons."
"Like I said, there isn't a reason. I didn't know it was a crime to be happy!"
I nod very seriously, allowing my eyes to widen. "It is," I say. "Punishable by death."
He cracks a smile and holds his head a little higher. "Then they'll just have to kill me."
We start walking toward the rock, as we have been doing every day lately. But something is out of the ordinary when we reach it. The tiny, purple wildflowers - which have crumpled up into grass for the winter and won't come out again until March - that grow around our rock have been replaced. Its replacement makes me lose my breath. It's something I haven't seen in years and certainly have not missed.
The stem of a single, white rose has been buried on the left side of the rock, the place I always sit.
Gale continues walking even though I stopped several feet back. Then he sits on the rock, oblivious to my absence. When he finally turns around, he seems completely unsuspecting.
"What's wrong?" Gale asks.
I don't answer. Instead, I crouch down in front of the rose to examine it. It didn't grow here naturally, that's for sure, because I would've seen it growing there all this time and because roses don't grow in December. Not this kind, at least.
As I investigate the rose, I spot another sign of human planting. The dirt that the bottom of the stem is buried in has large fingerprints around it, suggesting that whoever planted the flower patted the area to even it out. Whoever it was clearly isn't an experienced gardener; the earth wasn't even and the rose was drooping slightly.
I pick the rose from the ground and hold it up for Gale to see. He nods after a few seconds of confusedly staring at it.
"Who put it there?"
"I don't know," I answer.
I lower my arm and take a minute to stare at the rose myself. I can barely stand to touch it. It doesn't smell of blood as President Snow's roses did. This smells of something different. I can't put my finger on it, but it's distinctly familiar, yet something like a distant memory. It's like I've smelled it in another life or something. If I believed in second lives, I would end with that conclusion. But I don't. I know I've smelt it before.
A twig snaps in the woods behind us. I jump to my feet and raise my hunting knife - which I always carry with me for emergency situations when I may not have my bow - and aim in the direction of the noise. I see a shadow behind a tree. I'm about to throw the knife when Gale jumps up and stands in front of me.
The shadow becomes a person as it emerges from behind the tree and into my line of vision. I slide my knife back into my belt and take a few steps in her direction.
"Johanna?" I say. "What are you doing here?"
Johanna Mason, District 8. I can almost hear Haymitch's voice telling me who this tall, slender, brunette woman was for the first time. I haven't seen her since Will and Peeta were in the hospital. This was the last place I expected to see her again.
Since I last saw her, she's grown out her hair to where it just barely hits her shoulder blades. Her brown eyes gleam with confidence, which is nothing new. She's wearing a black, leather jacket - an expensive one, I can tell - with a white shirt underneath, black leather pants, and black boots.
I expect her to sit down and start talking business. For her to come all the way here from District 8 and then hike all this way into the woods to find me, it must be serious. So I'm taken by surprise when she shrugs her shoulders and casually plops down on the rock, facing us.
"I heard about your little hangout and thought I'd come check it out. It's not bad." She gestures toward the valley behind her. "It has a nice view."
Gale and I exchange equally-disbelieving looks.
I cross my arms across my chest. "Why are you really here?"
She flashes her signature cocky, mischievous grin. "I told you."
Gale speaks up. "You didn't come here to relax, Johanna. Start talking."
She sighs. "You two are so suspicious of everything. Can't a girl have a day out with her friends?"
To my surprise, she motions for us to come toward her. Gale and I look at each other wearily before coming forward. She stands up and ducks her head down, motioning again for us to do the same. Then, she begins her explanation.
"It's not safe to talk here, but it's the best we'll get."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"We're bugged. Every district, every house. Even the trees. I'm pretty sure they don't have microphones out here though. That's why we're here. Now listen. They sent the technicians to install the cameras two weeks ago."
"Who is 'they?'" I question her again.
She looks at me with the pitying look she often uses with me. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Trust me, it'll be soon."
"Get to the point," Gale says.
Johanna glares at him. "Anyway, I came here to tell you not to listen to the Capitol. For that matter, don't believe anything you hear from Districts 1, 2, and 3 either."
"Why?"
"What do I keep telling you?" Johanna asks, clearly fed up. "You'll figure it out on your own. I could be shot down on sight if anyone found out I was telling you this. Imagine what they'd do if I told you more. There's not anything else I can tell you. Just remember what I said."
She suddenly notices the white rose that I dropped beside my feet when I heard the twig snap.
She gives one short hmph. "Looks like Snow's back in the game after all."
"What?" I ask, my voice rising in fear. "Snow is dead."
"Will you be quiet?" Johanna whisper-screams. "I said I didn't think there were microphones out here. That didn't mean you have the 'okay' to yell!"
I let out a breath and compose myself. That's all the time it takes for Johanna to glance at her wrist watch and decide to leave.
"I have to go. My next stop is District 4. Annie."
She's backing away from us and is about to take off when I stop her. "Wait. So you're not going to the reunion?"
Johanna laughs. "Oh, you can bet your buttons I'll be at the reunion. But I'll be throwing my own after party."
Seconds later, she's gone, which leaves Gale and I to ponder over her words.
It's mid-afternoon when I get home, but the sun is already setting. Peeta's car is in the driveway when I walk up. He flings open the front door when I reach the top step.
He throws his arms around me and kisses my cheek. "Hey, sweetie. Welcome home."
I return his hug, confused by his public affection. Anything physical in our marriage is done in private, not on the front steps where the entire street can see us.
"Hey," I say. My voice sounds as confused as I am. "Thanks for picking up the kids."
He gives me a look that warns me against saying anything else. Then he ushers me inside and locks the door behind us.
"Come in the kitchen," he says.
I follow him in and stand on one side of the counter between two stools. He stands on the other side and puts his hands on the edge of the counter.
"How was hunting today?" he asks.
"It went well. We tried to get something for dinner but couldn't find anything good. There wasn't much out today, I guess."
He narrows his eyes at me. "Are you sure?"
I nod with a puzzled expression. "Yeah... Why?"
He doesn't answer at first. He instead scans my face. "Why do you try to lie?"
"What?"
"You and Gale weren't hunting today. You haven't been for a while now, actually. Why don't you tell me what you were doing today."
"We were hunting, like I told you."
"You're lying," he repeats.
"I don't know what you're-"
"You're not a good liar, Katniss. You keep lying and lying and what you don't realize is that I can spot one of your lies easier than I can spot this stain on my shirt."
He points at a dark spot on his white button-down shirt. I make a weak attempt at a subject change.
"How did that happen? You just bought that shirt."
Peeta gives me a stop-giving-me-nonsense look. "Don't try to change the topic. We're talking about you right now. What is really going on out there?"
I look between Peeta and the door. I'm ashamed to admit that I consider running to the woods. Unfortunately, hiding isn't an option.
"I'm not lying."
A tear forms in the corner of Peeta's eye. He brushes it away. "Then what is this?"
He places three magazines on the counter in front of me. One is the magazine that Haymitch showed me, the second is a District 8 celebrity news publication, and the third is a Capitol tabloid. All three of them have similar headlines, and all three of them have similar cover photos. Me and Gale in the den in my house. Me and Gale saying goodbye to each other before we go our separate ways at the cross-roads between the Seam and town. Me and Gale kissing in the woods. Every one of the photos is as horrifying as the next, because there's only one way that they could have been taken, judging from camera angles and their locations.
Johanna was right. District 12 is still bugged.
A/N: This was the first out of many things that will lead up to big secrets. I can't say much else because I don't want to give anything away. I was so excited to write this chapter because we're finally getting into the suspenseful, action-packed part of the story! There will still be enough Gale/Katniss and Peeta/Katniss to go around but as you saw in this chapter, it won't be the same between Peeta and Katniss anymore.
As a marker of Part II and of our 109 review milestone, I want to thank everyone who has contributed in motivating me to continue writing this story. I love my reviewers!
BellaLovesNutella, Bonibuuu, ColMikeFuser, Dana, Danain, Eleid, Everlarkdiehard, Giovanni, Guest, Haleema1998, Hawthornegirl, Inesish, itz-jocelin2000, JodiCatherine, Julie, kertwall, Rockerflat, Sarael, Sonya, sxcthing123, wouldratherbeaunicorn
Please review and tell me your thoughts on this chapter and your predictions on what's going on in Panem. I like to hear your theories, they're all so creative!