I've held this chapter captive far longer than I should have. I really hate making you guys wait but please understand this story has been fighting against me lately. However I'm determined to get this story told to the end and to keep at it, I want to go back to multiple updates in a week. I really do so I will strive for that, I may be late again but never this late again. What has it been 5-6 weeks? Really, that's ridiculous.
Anyways, it's with excitement I'm announcing that this story has reached a huge point. By that I mean I can finally see the end and all the events that will take place in between. I've saved the largest most nerve-wracking, and fluffy moments that will begin now. Basically this is me telling you lovely readers that I'm lining everything up for the final conflict of the story. I'll admit I got carried away and wrote some of the last chapter of Running already.
Also I'd like to say that I've just noticed that this story has ALMOST reached the 100,000 word point. The Hunger Games is around 110,000 words long. I can't believe I've gotten this far!
Okay, I haven't revised or did anything of those sorts with this chapter. Honestly, I feel loads nervous of putting this one up.
But, here it is.
I'm vaguely aware of the hard grainy texture that is the books hard cover. My eyes scan the pages reading distantly - although, I couldn't tell you what the printed words say.
I feel sick. Not with a illness or anything of that sorts but it's with worry. It's kind that twists your stomach and feels like some rabid creature has made its home there. Thinking of earlier doesn't help me. After all it is nothing but my stupidity that's brought me here.
I had predicted it would happen; not in this way, but either way it had. By the look on the Merchant girl's face when she had caught me with Peeta I knew that the whispers that would follow were inevitable. It was bound to occur; I'd get caught with Peeta by the wrong pair of eyes and we'd end up here, our secret relationship getting passed around by the hand of others. But it is the choices I made when I found something, rather someone, I could not let go of - despite how much I should've I just couldn't. I know now why I had went impulsive and kissed him senseless, it was because I felt threatened and didn't want to loose the tangled mess of a friendship we have. It was a mistake, and then it wasn't.
I can't take back my actions, and if there was a opportunity I'd do so in an instant. I know what awaits me Monday, the whispers of a Seam girl with a Merchant boy. The wide-eyes, shocked looks, disgust, head shakes of disdain and the obliteration of both our reputations. I've seen it happen before, but never have I thought it'd be me in the spotlight of such negative unwanted attention for something I don't see as a crime anymore.
I suppose I'm not subtle enough with my worry, could Annie possible sense it by the way my back has been rigid or my arms stiff? I'm not sure but whether it's for this reason or others I know one thing; Annie has been watching me like a hawk.
Even though my mind was thinking of her I am startled at the sound of her voice. "You're gonna want to be wearing black," she says nodding towards my outfit, which is what I'd wore to the dance. It's been four hours since we left the occasion, and now it's a starry night cloaked in darkness beyond the windows of the room I share with Annie.
Questioningly, and begrudgingly, I eye her. I can't even begin to understand why she'd ask me to dress in black. I take the book I'd been reading from my lap and shut it gently before putting it aside on the bed. Seeing she can tell I've been dwelling on something makes me surprised she's not prying me for information. Still, I am greatly confused by her intentions.
"Why," I ask looking back up, suddenly leery, but she's moved already heading back into the gleaming white-tiled bathroom.
"You'll see." Her voice echoes in a mischievous pitch from behind the door of the basic cookie-cutter bathroom.
Soon after she exits, her arms are wound around half a dozen rolls of toilet paper. My mouth dries as I realize her plan. "Annie, that's illegal!" I exclaim in a tone of distress.
Her tanned nimble hands place the rolls in the black satchel she has produced from the closet. "Sure is if you're caught," she grins, and the look matches her light tone, "seeing as we're not adults the worse that could happen is we'd have to clean up or have my mother find out."
I frown, both sound like bad outcomes.
"C'Mon you have to do something other than read that book, I've read it and I know it's nothing interesting." My gaze falls on the blue covered book beside me, that like Annie said is more on the boring side with slow-pacing. Not that I've been to attentive to it.
And so, with reluctance, and a desire to distract my mind I agree. "Okay."
"Good." Annie grins broadly.
She packs the bag with various things, and I watch. I hadn't known she had so many forks hidden beneath her bed.
Finally, after minutes of rustling through things that'll destroy someone's too perfect yard she approaches me. "I'll make sure my parents are sleeping. Get changed into darker colors, wear some of my stuff if you need to."
I nod, it's then that I realize she has already dressed to go, maybe I was way more immersed in my thoughts than I believed. The only color Annie wears is dull black, it's a huge difference from the bright slinky dress she wore hours before, and I notice the shiny light-catching bracelet she wears daily has been removed and cast aside on the sheets of her bed.
We really are about to mess up someone's yard; and I'm all in for it.
Her willowly form sneaks out of the room into the dim-lit hallways beyond and I enter the closet we share. Her side, much larger than mine, is filled to the brim with clothes and it's harder to find dark colored clothing in. Although there's some sporadically lying against the unending vibrant hues. However my side is overwhelmed with darker and more natural shades.
I remove the flowing white top I wore to the dance but leave the black camisole that has lain beneath. Very soon after I cover my bare olive arms with my old black hoodie, I've managed to salvage it and deem it still functional despite the way the tail of the sleeves are ruined with stains of dirt and the ends frayed from constant wear. I steal a dark pair of cargo pants from Annie which fit a bit too loosely but manage to work decently once I secure them with a belt.
And when I open the closet door there's Annie slipping the dark bag's strap on her shoulder. I'd thought we'd have maybe tip-toed through the back door of the house but when Annie begins to softly tread deeper into her room I know we are not, we are going out the window.
To our luck, the window is silent while being slid up. I exit first, ducking my head beneath the shiny glass and then reach a single leg out before dropping it in the moist blades of grass that crunches beneath my footing. Once I'm out Annie passes the bag before, she, herself, emerges and falls into place next to me and takes the pack back before adjusting it on the crook of her arm.
Soon after we jog down the street our footsteps are even on the pavement. Houses appear around us in a patternless fashion as we continue. The moon has emerged through a blanket of fluffy clouds and it's light shines brightly but is just light enough to leave us disguised. Ahead are trees and thickets of bushes forming a canopy over the pavement, the sight is wondrous, and the moonlight above shows through the trees and casts ethereal shadows like patchwork among our feet.
Annie comes to a sudden halt at a flickering street light, so I do too. She fishes through the bag for a few moments before taking out a can. And then I realize it's spray paint. "Here," she explains, her voice collected, "make sure it still works."
Spray-painting public property is a form of vandalism but when I look around us and I don't see a single soul that could even dare to report us. And so, the can emits a burst of blue under the pressure of my finger on the trigger, it hisses, the smell of it drifts to my noes as well. I create a blue zig-zagged line on the splintered wood, and above my mark Annie's can hisses and a purple smiley face appears beneath her bare hand wrapped around the can.
We continue with the cold cans in our hands, down the breezy street. "Where are we going," I murmur just loud enough so my voice can surpass the patter of our shoes.
"I don't know but I think somewhere up here would work well." Ahead is a group of houses one-story and two-story houses placed in a irregular pattern among a small patch of a woodland area.
We drift into the small patch of isolated houses careful not to linger to long at any. Then, finally, we decide on a modest little house with quite a big front yard that has the occasional tree.
We scurry into the yard and Annie quickly drops the bag in a bed of grass before unzipping it and grabbing eggs and toilet paper and forks. "We'll spray paint last!" She hurriedly whispers before darting deeper into the yard.
I grasp three rolls of toilet paper and go for a ancient oak set amidst the yard. Like a squirrel I frantically crawl up the tree's broad trunk. Once mid-way up I place two of the rolls clutched to my chest in the baggy pockets of my hoodie. The other I open and hurl around branches beginning to weave the white lines through the branches like patchwork.
My heart moves as fast as my hands as I coat the tree in the blindingly white paper. I breathe through my mouth as the wind nips my nose. Eventually I descend the tree and wrap the base with the remains of the toilet paper.
Lastly, once Annie has blanketed the ground with forks and ti-pi's a car that has been neglected from the garage we move to the eggs.
With harsh slings of our arms we pelt the crumbling outdated eggs at the car and the walls of the house, and all burst with a satisfying crack. After we spray the base of the trees and grass in purple and blue paint however, we decide against spraying the house or the car.
Annie snatches up the bag and we run down the road. The thrill of success bubbles in my stomach and probably Annie's as well, she laughs with glee. We're quick to make it back in case Lynn or Elijah wake up anytime soon.
That night we stay awake until the pale starlight begins to diminish. Our hours consist of retelling tales and eating some over-buttered popcorn Annie pops in the kitchen.
It soothes my worries. For a little while at least.
Like expected Monday brings the trouble.
That morning, the moment I stepped into the schoolyard the whispers and points of fingers had found me. It was a reality check and I was scared of how the day would fair, and desperately, I tried to keep my composure. I refuse to be daunted by girls who have no lives and are too dim to the real things that matter.
I spend more time in worry over Peeta rather than myself. Most of the time blocking the chatter that is centered around myself is not an impossible task, after all, I've done it before. However it's hard listening to Peeta's name twirled in it knowing that my actions put it there; and then I feel guilty, incredibly guilty. What horrors may happen to him with the news of this? Would everything in his life be flipped? How are the people he hangs out with reacting to this?
But I don't stick around with him to know. In fact I don't dwell near him at all during school, like usual. The closest we come to an encounter is briefly catching each others eyes in the two classes we do share. After all, it'd only create more talk and I've had enough for a lifetime.
Like normal when we are dismissed from English I pull my converse clad feet through the hall of skeptical eyes that make me nauseous, but I feel better when I reach the table in the cafeteria and am met with Annie; someone who has never let me down.
We go into the lunch line and come back to the table five minutes later with a pathetic looking heap of watery tomato sauce covering lumpy ravioli on our trays. No matter what the lunches look like I never let food go to waste knowing what it's like to be starving will make you eat anything when the time is opportune. And I do eat the slop, in large scoops shoveling it down, it's nothing like the food Lynn makes or the baked goods Peeta does but it is edible. On the other hand Annie grimaces as she eats the plastic-like food, but like I, she eats.
Half-way finished she pushes her black star foam tray towards my finished one her lips turned into a taut position of distaste.
"That was horrible," she moans disgustedly at the trays.
"I agree." It's a half-hearted answer to her statement.
"So, what I've been hearing," she glances up from the two trays a curious yet delighted gleam in her eyes, "is it true?"
And I think I know what topic she's aiming for. Her question makes me look at her wide-eyed and I know what she's asking. Are you in a actual relationship with Peeta like they say?
"No." I shake my head deflecting the idea that she has and crushing the curious hgleam in her eyes.
"Oh," she replies rather disappointed at the answer before she pushes her nimble thumbs together. I've seen her do this a few times before, especially around Finnick, perhaps it's her nervous tic.
After a while of just the sound of the surrounding tables chatter she pipes up. "Can I ask you something?"
I'm a little dumbfounded that she'd be reluctant to ask me something. She usually just bursts out but now she is more quiet and solemn. "Yes."
"If there weren't a Seam and a Merchant side and all people were equal would you be so reluctant to be with Peeta?" I'm a bit shocked by her question but still quick to respond.
"But it isn't like that around here Annie," I remind her rather than answering her.
"I know it isn't but if it was."
I don't understand the point of 'what if's' when she and I know the outcomes. The day has been dreadful and it's because I went somewhere a seam girl shouldn't have.
I sigh because despite my reluctance I know my answer. "Then maybe."
She thoughtfully nods before her eyes widen when she looks behind me, I turn around desperate to see what's captured her interest so suddenly.
"No don't look you'll give me away!" She warns me waving her hands leaning over the table.
I turn my body fully back to Annie. I'm concerned. "What is it?"
"Prince Charming," she coos dreamily but I scrunch up my nose.
It hits me what or rather who she probably sees behind me. "Finnick?" I deadpan. She has made up some rather annoying codenames to address him by, when she's with me and he's in hearing range.
I notice "Prince Charming" walks out of ear-shot before she responds.
"Yep," a smile tugs at her lips as she nods, "Finnick."
As usual I walk home alone at the end of the day. Exiting the school yard was probably the biggest challenge and I have already succeeded with that. It was teeming with secretive girls and questioning guys, I'd went straight through with my head down, but I could see around me and they gawked at me like I was blind and spoke about like I was deaf. And I began to wonder how oblivious they were to others, how cruel it was of them to do things like so. I wondered where there parents had went wrong with raising their children or if they were born acting like this. Of all that surrounded I noticed something, but as I thought about it I failed to be shocked; there wasn't a single person from the Seam looking or speaking about me in a unjust way, in fact, they did not talk of me at all, at least not around me for they knew it was rude, and the only looks from them were reassuring. Support. Like me they walked through the schoolyard towards home rather than lingering around to long.
It was then I realized that I am more than proud to be from the seam, but maybe where we come from doesn't matter as much as how kind we are to others. At least with my knew bonds to Peeta and Annie I have begun to believe so.
Immediately I feel loads lighter as I distance myself from school and am met with the windy backstreets that have begun to crumble. It feels like I am being thawed by the warm breeze, I wish the school wasn't kept so cold, I chastise myself for bringing such a light jacket today. Although I am rather relieved to just be away from there for the rest of today.
My ears pick up the sound before my mind thinks it over. Footsteps, loud running footsteps echo behind me.
"Katniss wait up!" I turn to see Peeta pursuing me and clutching his backpack that he had not put on before he ran.
I come to a halt, and watch him approach. I am full of so many questions to ask him.
"I took today off of Football practice I figured I'd need some time with you," he gasps in uneven breaths. His shirt is stuck to his toned chest by sweat and his hair is slightly disheveled.
"Oh," I say blankly, still a bit dumbstruck at him suddenly materializing. "Okay."
We walk in unhurried steps to the Merchant side. "So um, was your day okay?" It's more of all a small talk question but I understand exactly what he's asking.
"Yeah, just peachy. I was worried about you though." It sounds a bit weird coming from my mouth and I feel flustered admitting it to him.
"Oh, why would you worry about me?" he asks seeming genuinely confused. I want to slap him and ask if he was not at school at all today.
"Your friends," I remind him. "I'm sure none of them were fine with it," I feel guiltier saying it out loud. I hold a hand up to my spinning head. "Oh, what was I thinking, I was so stupid," I mutter to myself intending for Peeta not to hear but not caring if he does.
"I only lost a few Katniss, and they weren't significant to me in any way, I knew what I was in for when I made my confession. Besides, today wasn't bad at all, this won't last forever, you know that, they'll find a new subject."
"But what if they don't! How can you be alright losing people, Peeta? This is all wrong, you don't have to lie to me! Admit it please, it is wrong! I know this isn't fair to y-"
My sentence never gets finished because he tethers me to him with his strong arms and stops my words with his lips. Our noses awkwardly brush but he's incessant and demanding to kiss me, like he is trying to convince me in other ways than words. His breaths are raspy through his noes and he nudges are mouths together multiple times. Then he releases my mouth but doesn't move away from me rather he meets our foreheads. Mine is hot with frustration and his is sticky with sweat, but somehow I don't mind.
"Katniss, what if you're wrong?" he murmurs refusing to raise his voice at me. "What if you've been suffocating yourself in some lie, and you have your mind to built up to believe anything except that it will all be bad forever. We'll be alright I promise, just please stop your worrying."
It drives me crazy looking into his eyes. I should be telling him he has no right to kiss me but I can't bring myself to it.
"Okay," I whisper back, "let's go home."
I find I don't want to leave his side. His presence is comforting.