The first and only time I leave District 2, it's mid-autumn. I've finally given Gale enough of a reason to buy two tickets to Twelve. Money's been tight, and he makes sure to remind me every few hours that we're what he calls 'living modestly,' and I call, 'poor as hell.'
I had two jobs in the time I lived in District 2, one of them being a mail carrier. It was a terrible job with terrible pay. And I have no problem with pretending my first few weeks there didn't happen.
People there didn't exactly welcome me with open arms to begin with. Gale said it was because I looked too groomed. After that, I started noticing the things I did that made this so. For one thing, people in Two didn't seem to shower as often as I did, which I found odd since they tend to sweat more than I do on a daily basis. However, I started only showering three times a week.
Another difference I noticed was that it seemed like everyone else there was exceptionally muscular, even the women who stayed at home all day. I tried to build some muscle, I swear I did. Gale accused me of not really trying and giving up too quickly (Lie. I actually very quickly tried, and then not really tried giving up). He essentially got (legitimately) mad about my supposed laziness, which made me laugh.
Katniss hadn't been exaggerating when she said that Gale had a fancy job. Not only was he helping to train something I call, 'Peacekeepers 2.0," he was also one of the head supervisors for the reconstruction of a military base that was destroyed during the war. He's got this weird obsession with making sure that everything is better than what it was before the war, and I'm pretty sure it's because of his history with the Capitol. I called him out on it a few months ago, and he brought up my poor attempt to get in shape for the fifth time that day. I dropped it.
The promises Peeta and I had made to visit each other every few months to catch up fell through when Katniss became ill (some disease that sounded like malaria, but wasn't malaria) about nine months after I left. We still called each other every once in a while, but never seemed to have anything interesting to say unless it was an update from Peeta on Katniss's health, or lack thereof. Once it started to look like she wasn't going to bounce back, Peeta began calling every day, and I didn't mind it.
But it became harder to hear after a while, knowing how much she was suffering. Knowing how much he was suffering. Knowing that I couldn't afford a train ticket to see either of them.
There was nothing else stopping me. Gale seemed to be just as aggravated by the distance as I was. But, like he said, train tickets (especially tickets that need to get us from Two to Twelve) were expensive.
But then one night – a few months ago – Peeta had something other than, "I don't know. She's still hurting," to say. He sounded like he was in tears when he called to say that she'd regained an appetite and was able to keep down what she ate. So it was then, at three in the morning, when all of our lives started gradually getting better. For the first time in a year and a half, we all felt like life was worth living.
I got my second and better paying job at a local pub where I served food, Gale started being less angry all the time, Katniss grew healthier every week, and Peeta was able to – and this is a direct quote – "Wake up in the morning without worrying that she might not be there." Money was still incredibly tight, and there were days when we just didn't eat, but it was easier to get through the day.
"I thought you understood," Gale says, bringing my mind back to the present. The present, it just so happens, is a train. I glare at him without forgiveness, remembering the last several weeks.
"Just because I understand doesn't mean that I like it," I snap, turning away from him and towards the window where I can see some slowly dying plants making way for the winter chill.
"I don't like this anymore than you do-"
"Doubt it."
"-but trust me when I say that this is what's best," he says with the same strange sense of urgency he'd had when he gave me this same speech a few days ago.
"What's best for us, or what's best for you?" I ask, pressing my head against the cold window.
"You're not being reasonable," he complains.
"You're being an ass. What do you expect from me?" I say angrily.
"I expect you to act like the happy-go-lucky girl I met two years ago! The one who didn't let stupid shit like this get in her way," he answers. I can tell without looking that he's dramatically flailing his arms around like he always does when we argue. It's like how I don't look at him when we argue.
"You didn't know anything about her- me," I say. "And this isn't stupid. The fact that you're even saying that is just-"
"You're not being fair. You know that's not why-"
"I'm tired," I interrupt quickly. Bringing my knees to my chest, I curl up against the armrest of my chair and close my eyes.
Due to recent events and discoveries, Gale and I have had thirty seconds of conversation between the two of us that were not spent fighting. Those seconds, it just so happens, were when Gale announced he'd bought the tickets for a journey to Twelve (an announcement I'd been waiting for over a year now for).
Two days later, not only are we using said tickets, but the constant arguing has driven both of us mad – Mad in the angry sense, not the crazy sense.
For the record, the events leading up to this moment were not my fault. Really, it was nobody's fault because, contrary to what Gale strongly believes, it wasn't a mistake.
Apparently I've fallen asleep because I'm woken up by Gale's voice, which is noticeably less harsh now. "Summer, come on… We're here," he says. I let of a tired groan before stretching my arms and legs.
The trip took longer than we'd anticipated, and it's only a few minutes past midnight when we're off the train and we've collected our baggage. There's a full moon above us, lighting up most of the town by itself, though it helps that there are lit streetlamps every few buildings.
Just as we're stepping off the platform, I catch Haymitch's eye in my peripheral vision. I immediately shove my bag into Gale's chest without apology and run.
"Haystack!" I scream, giving him a hug. "What are you doing here? The train was supposed to get here hours ago."
"Lover boy asked me not-so-politely to help carry your stuff. It helped that the pub is open later on Sundays though," he says with a slight slur, showing that he's under the influence, but not drunk. I think.
"Oh please, you know you missed me," I say. "You didn't have to wait up though."
"It was all lover boy's idea," Haymitch replies lamely. Ignoring his poor argument, I begin walking back towards Gale to reclaim my bag.
As we stroll through the darkened town, I chat idly with Haymitch and by the time we make it to Katniss's house, I almost forget I've been gone for two years. But when I glance toward Gale every few steps, I'm grudgingly reminded of the actual amount of time I was away.
"You could've at least shaved," I hiss at Gale when Haymitch falls into step ahead of us.
Rubbing shoulder across the fuzz on his face, he replies, "Well, you could've packed less, but I guess we'll both just have to live with it."
I scoff but don't reply. I try for the remaining walk to Victor's Village to brighten my attitude, though it's hard to say the least. Gale had better not act this way in front of Katniss and Peeta. Haymitch might be able to overlook it in his drunken state, but I don't think it'd set right with the others.
I want to lean over and ask him to behave at least for a few minutes, but don't get the chance as I look up from my feet and see that we've arrived at my former temporary home.
Haymitch barges in without knocking, as to be expected, and I shuffle through the front door, making myself small as if I've never been there before. Suddenly shyer than I've ever been before, I let Gale walk in front of me as well.
"It's about time. What took you so long?" I hear Peeta ask. My heart lifts, and the shyness is gone, but I retrain myself from shoving Gale out of the way so that I can run towards the kitchen where the voice had come from.
"Damn train got in late," Haymitch replies grumpily. Odd, he seemed fine on the way here. I find myself staring at the same furniture that had been in the house since before I'd moved in. I look at the staircase I'd been carried down and by Peeta multiple times. I sigh longingly.
"Mellark," Gale greets stiffly. I roll my eyes. Maybe I should've told him to behave after all…
"Nice to see you too, Hawthorne," Peeta replies, just stiff but I can hear the smile behind the tone.
Grinning, I drop my bag and run into the kitchen. I stop, pausing to look for Peeta who is just to the right, leaning against the counter. Throwing my arms around him, I laugh.
"You grew your hair out!" I say, hugging him.
"And yours got shorter," Peeta replies wholeheartedly, though I notice that he's gripping the edge of the counter with his left hand.
Dropping my voice, I whisper, "Are you feeling alright?"
"What? Yeah, of course. Why?" he asks hurriedly. My eyes move to his nearly white hand.
"Because you're choking the granite," I say plainly. Haymitch has left out the back door without saying goodbye, I notice, but it's late and he was pretty much drunk anyway. But Gale hears us, I'm sure of it, even though he's in the next room.
I learned the hard way that he's got great hearing – apparently Gale's choice of weapon when he suspects someone is in the house at night is a large spoon. Of course, I was the only other person in the house. That night, we both learned that it's not a good idea to throw a spoon at someone's head. Ever.
"It's nothing," is his hasty response. "I'm just a little tired. The doctors keep changing my doses. It's… pretty stressful sometimes."
"Oh, well I'm really sorry we got here so late," I apologize. "We'll just go get settled in one of the other houses, and you and I will catch up lat-"
"I thought you said you were going to stay here," Peeta interrupts, giving me a confused look.
"Well, Katniss is still recovering, technically, and I don't think it'd be good for her to be surrounded by so much activity all the time," I lie.
"Besides," I add, "Gale couldn't possibly stay by himself. It'd be rude of me – and you. Don't worry about it."
"You sure?" he asks, raising a curious eyebrow at me. "You two have fun, I guess…" Knowing what he's thinking, I shake my head and slap my hand to my face.
"It's not like that," I mutter, a blush creeping onto my face. He sighs in what I think is relief before leading Gale and me to the house next door.
"Hey. Where's Katniss?" I ask Peeta while I unpack my things in the room I'm claiming.
"Hopefully sleeping," he answers, plopping down on the bed. "She never seems to get enough rest."
"Isn't there medication for that kind of thing?" I ask, tossing a few shirts into the dresser drawer.
"It doesn't work. None of it does," he replies quietly. "I didn't want to ask until we were out of hearing distance but… Does Gale know? About your father?"
"Peeta, I can honestly say that that is the last thing he needs on his plate right now," I say. We both frown, suddenly quiet.
I feel like there's this huge elephant in the room, and I have to remind myself that Peeta couldn't possibly suspect that something like this has happened. Still, I feel like we're both waiting for the other to mention the situation so that I can blame Gale and go to sleep with a less guilty conscience.
Fortunately and unfortunately, a yawn escapes my mouth before either of us can blurt something out.
"You had a long trip," Peeta says quietly. I shake my head and tell him I'm not tired. But he still gives me a hug and says, "Goodnight, Summer. Welcome back."
When he's gone from the house and my bags are unpacked, I tiptoe out into the hallway. I look to my left to see that the room Gale had claimed was dark, but the door is open. Maybe he's already asleep. I take a step towards the room, with the intention of apologizing, but think better of going any further. Seeing him right now would just make both of us angrier than we are already.
So instead, I slip back into my room, where I stay for the rest of the night.