Chapter 10: A Reaping Kiss

Steffan the Baker greets me at the door early on this Reaping Morning. I have been here since before dawn, so I watch him open the Bakery and he ushers me in. I sit at my usual table, in the far corner, and watch as Steffan sets to work, stoking the ovens and preparing the day's bread. Before long, the whole establishment comes alive around him as three strapping boys - all of them with blonde hair - run around, bringing pastries out of the ovens, manning the till. The Baker's wife (whom everyone calls the Witch, but only behind her back), barks out orders at her husband and sons, occassionally pausing in her diatribes to sneer in my direction. The customers who arrive in a steady stream know to steer clear of her, preferring instead to deal with the Baker or one of his sons.

At a lull around mid-morning, Steffan presents me with another pint and I smile at him gratefully. His yeast-based brews are always the best. Despite already being plastered off my ass, I am with it enough to check my watch. 9 AM. Reaping will start in another hour.

It is just then that I hear the tinkling of the bell, and two attractive young women come in. The oldest has brown hair in a single braid running down her back. The little one is as blonde as a Merchant. The Everdeen girls - Katniss and Primrose.

Yarrow and Belle Everdeen's daughters are real beauties, particularly Katniss, the oldest girl. Clad already in the royal blue Reaping dress she always wears to each Reaping, at 16, she turns a lot of heads. But she never so much as returns a smile in any of the lusting boys' direction, at least that I've seen. Ever since poor Yarrow died in a mining collapse roughly five years ago, I hear she has been raising the household alone, doting on Prim and helping Belle literally stay on her feet. I saw Belle once, not too long ago, on an outing in Town that has become rare for her as much as it has me - she looked dead inside. Like all the light had gone out of her.

Right away, I notice the youngest lad (name starts with a P... can't remember what it is...) straighten a little behind the counter. The Witch sees the two beautiful girls and disappears down into the storeroom with a huff. The Baker disappears to the back, followed by the other two sons. The youngest lad - Peeta, that's his name! - is left alone with the two pretty girls.

"Um..." Katniss lamely holds up a game bag clearly stuffed with catches. "The back loading dock door was locked."

"That's OK," Peeta sends her a winning smile. "I can make the trade from here; Dad won't mind."

Pursing her lips into a tight frown, Katniss reluctantly acquiesces. Approaching the counter to make the barter, she bends down and whispers tenderly in Primrose's ear. The little girl, also gussied up (poor thing, this must be her first Reaping), happily peers at all the iced cookies and pastires in the display window under the counter. Meanwhile, Peeta holds up a dead squirrel and inspects it, whistling, impressed.

"Right in the eye, every time!" I think I see Katniss's cheeks bloom pink, which she immediately counters with an almost embarassed scowl. Ducking under the counter, Peeta pulls out two loaves of bread. I can see the steam wafting up from them clear across the room; they must have come straight from the oven.

Katniss tries to beg off. "No, no, it's too much, and -"

"Nonsense! You know these squirrels are Dad's guilty pleasure!"

Katniss frowns. "I don't need charity, Peeta."

Peeta just smiles at her softly. "Everyone needs a little kindness, especially today of all days." Reaching a hand down, he plucks a cookie from the display window, rounds the counter, and presents it to Primrose with a bow. "For you."

Primrose accepts the cookie shyly.

"What do you say?" Katniss prompts, like a mother would to her child.

"Thank you, Peeta," the little girl chirps meekly.

"You're very welcome," Peeta beams genuinely at her, folding his arms over the counter. "So: either of you lovely ladies stolen a Reaping Kiss yet?"

The Reaping Kiss has been a tradition ever since before I was Reaped. Legend has it that if you are eligible for the Games and share a kiss with someone on Reaping Morning, you are protected from being picked. I shared a Reaping Kiss with my girl, Rosemary, the morning of the Quell Reaping. She even kissed Gregory, too, to make sure he was protected.

The Reaping Kiss protected my brother. It didn't protect me.

Katniss has leaned back a little bit, eyes wide. Flushing red, she mumbles something about how she doesn't "believe in that superstitious stuff." Primrose, on the other hand, is gazing up at Peeta with shining eyes.

"No," she prattles on excitedly. "I asked Rory Hawthorne to kiss me, but he said it was too icky."

Peeta grins down at her for a moment, thoughtful. Kneeling down to her level, he softly pecks Primrose on the cheek. "There. That should do it."

Prim squeals and throws her arms around him. "Thank you, Peeta!"

"Go wait outside for me, Prim," Katniss prompts. She turns back to Peeta, teary. "Thank you."

He shrugs. "No problem." As Katniss turns to leave, Peeta suddenly gathers his courage and grabs her hand.

"Katniss."

"What?" she murmurs, turning back to him. She only has time to regard him in confusion as Peeta takes her by the waist, pulls her close. Tipping her face back in his free hand, he kisses her right on the mouth.

Katniss stiffens in the embrace, her eyes bulging as she lets out a surprised whimper into his lips. She actually holds the kiss for a moment, and even seems to relax into it for just a second, kissing him back, until -

Katniss suddenly wrenches her head back out of the kiss with a loud POP! "No!" she yelps, her face flaming red, and her breasts heaving for every gulp of air under the bodice of her blue dress. "I shouldn't have done that." She glances furtively in my direction, flushed that they have an audience.

The light in Peeta's blue eyes dim, looking a little hurt. "I'm sorry..."

"It's... OK..." Katniss runs her fingers through her braid before daring to look Peeta in the face. Deciding something, she quite abruptly smashes his face in her hands and kisses him firmly on the lips in return. A moment later, she jerks away. "Thank you," she breathes stupidly, before turning tail and running from the Bakery. A confused and crestfallen Peeta turns back to the counter, and I flag him down.

"Check, please!"

I stumble through the Seam and all the way back to Victors' Village. Coming over the crest of the hill, I see Lucy Gray on her porch, perched in her rocking chair. She's 80 years old now, and though she is still lucid and sharp, my mentor now needs a cane to walk most places ever since a fall in her home about eight years ago.

Seeing me, she cocks an eyebrow. "How sloshed are you?" It is a question that is almost a joke at this point, for how often it's asked.

"Sloshed enough," I reply. I don't bother mentioning how I saw Yarrow and Belle's oldest girl share a kiss (or two) with the Baker's youngest son.

"Well, hurry up," Lucy Gray orders. "The Peacekeepers will be here in five minutes."

I stagger up to my stoop and enter my house. Exactly five minutes later, I hear a sharp knock at my front door. Openining it, Peacekeepers surround me and force me out onto the stoop. The whole guns-drawn thing seems a little unnecessary now after 24 years, but that doesn't seem to stop the officers. At the very least, they are almost courteous to Lucy Gray and her age, as she moves more slowly.

Lucy Gray and I are placed into a line, in order of Victory. Cray locks and loads his gun. "Victors: forward! Quick... march!"

So Lucy Gray and I begin a sort of high-strutting goosestep as we are escorted under heavy guard down the hill, through the Seam and Town and all the way to the Justice Building. Due to her age, my mentor sets the pace, but we reach the Justice Building with about ten minutes to spare before the top of the hour.

Lucy Gray and I are ushered in through a side door, where we shake hands with Mayor Undersee. He's been married for years to Maysilee's twin sister (I know this because I received a restraining order on the announcement of their upcoming Toasting, making it explicitly clear that I was to stay away. The Mayor's wife has never forgiven me for coming home in place of her sister). As I understand it, she and the Mayor have a daughter together.

Then my mentor and I meet up with Effie Trinket. She's been District 12's escort for the past fourteen years. I had my hang-ups with our old escort, Mitzi Hoops - she's retired now, with Lucy Gray and I still writing to her on occassion - but I prefer her immensely to this snooty gal.

The clock strikes 10, and Lucy Gray and I are ushered onto the stage. The Panem anthem plays, then the Glory to the Games video. This is the part where I am grateful for being zonked - I can tune it out all the better. All I really have to do is listen for Mayor Undersee reading the names of past District 12 Victors.

"The Victor of the 10th Hunger Games: Lucy Gray Baird!" I have enough presence of mind to grip Lucy Gray by her elbow, help her briefly to her feet.

"The Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, or Second Quarter Quell: Haymitch Abernathy!" I wave stupidly to the crowd, who respond with laughter just as much as light applause. I learned a long time ago to ignore it.

Effie now bustles up, adjusting her mauve wig. "Welcome, welcome! The time has come to choose one young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Ladies first!" She crosses to a glass bowl at the right, plucks one slip of paper and unfurls it.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

Despite my intoxication, my mind instantly flashes back to the little girl I saw in the Bakery just this morning. Oh no... she's 12, I'd bet my life on it. And no one younger than 14 has ever won the Games. As I watch, the little girl with blond pigtails steps, petrified, out of the crowd, beginning her walk to doom.

But Prim can't be as petrified as the beautiful young woman in the blue dress who stumbles out of line after her. "Prim!" Katniss's voice is choked with terror, stricken. "Prim!"

Peacekeepers move in to cut the Everdeen girl off from her sister; in desperation, she screams, "I volunteer! I VOLUNTEER! I volunteer as tribute!"

I glance over to Lucy Gray, whose mouth is unhinged in pained shock. I am just as flabbergasted. District 12 has never had anyone volunteer for the Games. Ever. In 74 years.

Effie, however, looks positively delighted by this turn of events. "Wonderful!" she beckons Katniss up onto the stage, while a hulking, dark-haired boy who must be in his last Reaping picks a wailing Prim up and carries her away.

"What's your name?" Effie is asking.

"Katniss Everdeen." Her voice is wooden.

"Well, I bet my hat that was your sister!" I want to yell at Effie to leave the poor girl alone - isn't this difficult enough? Unfortunately, I'm too drunk.

"Yes... it was." Katniss still sounds like she's in a trance.

"And now for the boys." Effie whips out a slip of paper so fast, I hardly see it (although it's not like my eyes can do much tracking, anyway) before she calls out, "Peeta Mellark!"

Well, now I know one thing: the Reaping Kiss definitely doesn't work. It has to be a bunch of hogwash, if two people who actually kissed each other are both Reaped for this thing. The Baker's youngest son mounts the stage, terrified, shaking hands with a heartbroken Katniss when prompted.

Then we are all taken into Capitol custody.

The lines aren't as long as they were for me and my friends 24 years ago. Belle and little Primrose say goodbye to their Katniss, as does the dark-haired boy who helped carry the little one away. The Boy's whole family visits, and I actually manage a bob of the head in Steffan's direction when he emerges back outside.

Katniss and Peeta are finally handed over to us and we are muscled into the armored car to take us to the train station. I have to help Lucy Gray sit up front, our tributes and Effie squeezed across the backseat. I may not like Trinket, but giving up my seat for her is the gentlemanly thing to do; besides, all they need to do is roll me in and I can crouch pretty much in whatever space is left.

Effie is prattling on to the kiddies about everything to see in the Capitol, like we are going on holiday. I have to fault Effie for her insensitivity, but then again, Mitzi was the same way. Our escort doesn't appear to notice how Peeta's eyes have grown red and puffy from crying.

We are all loaded onto the train, and the locomotive is speeding away from Twelve before we have even reached our seats.

Dinner passes in almost uniform silence. It is the Boy who finally breaks it with an eager, "So: what do we do first? What's your advice?"

My eyes cross, the glass tumbler of amber liquid tipping in my hand. "Here's some advice - stay alive!" Then I burst out laughing.

After a moment of blinking, Peeta laughs along. "That's funny..." His face goes from jovial to rage in an instant as he sharply backhands my tumbler out of my grasp. Glass shatters and the booze runs down the length of the train car. "Only not to us."

Out of my seat, I consider this for a moment. I need a test. So thinking, I haul and punch Peeta full in the face, reeling him backwards.

"Haymitch!" Lucy Gray gasps in mortified shock, though she really shouldn't be so surprised. She knows I've employed this trick before.

Only I've never gotten these kind of results before, because as I'm reaching for a second glass of spirits, Katniss fiercely drives a butter knife in between my fingers, the blade - though serrated - inches from my skin.

Effie squeaks. "That is mahogany!" We all ignore her.

Studying the knife that nearly got impaled into my skin, my eyes narrow. I glance up at Sweetheart, who just stares me down.

"Well, now, Lucy Gray, what's this?" I call to my mentor without turning my head. "Did we actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Behind me, Peeta is struggling to his feet. There's a large, red welt just above his jawline and he reaches for some ice in the beer cooler. I throw out a hand to stop him. "No, let the bruise show. The Peacekeepers will think you've mixed it up with one of the other tributes before the arena."

"That's against the rules," Peeta frowns hard.

I knew this boy was too much of a goody-goody. I shrug flippantly. "Only if they catch you. That bruise says you fought, you weren't caught, even better."

Meanwhile, Lucy Gray is pondering the knife between my fingers. "Dear..." she directs towards Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"

I start a little bit, thinking she may have just given our tribute explicit permission to have another go at me. Instead, Katniss plucks the knife from the placemat and hurls it into the far wall. It impales itself right in the groove between two panelings. Maybe it was sheer luck, but I can't be so sure. Countering my dumb blinking, Lucy Gray merely gives a toothy smile, shaking her head. "Just like your father..." she whispers.

Katniss hears it. "You knew my father?"

"I did. And your grandmother too."

"Grammaude?" Katniss re-takes her seat, intensely focused on Lucy Gray.

The old lady nods, deep in memory. "We were... friends once."

Katniss purses her lips in a tight, contemplative frown. "Funny. She never mentioned you."

This doesn't seem to deter Lucy Gray, as her grin broadens. "I have plenty more stories about both of them, if you'd like."

A beat. And then Katniss rises, offering the old lady her arm. Lucy Gray takes it gratefully, and helping her to her feet, the two women stroll off to the next car.

Peeta now approaches me. "I've been hoping to talk with you alone, since you're going to be my mentor."

"I'll be mentor for both of you, unless either of you explicitly requests otherwise," I tell him. "The rule is, Victors have to mentor by gender, when they can afford it. But Lucy Gray... she's slowing up. Tires easily. I've been trying to pick up more off her end, so she can rest."

Peeta nods at me with something that almost looks like respect. "Considering how drunk you usually are, I have to commend you."

"Thanks," I blink. Despite the fact that I introduced myself to him by way of a punch, this boy is already starting to grow on me. He doesn't appear to hold a grudge. Huh. Retaking our seats, I face him. "So what's up?"

At this, Peeta bursts into tears. "I can't kill Katniss, Haymitch!"

I eye him with pity. "You may have to, boy, if you want to live."

"Even then, I couldn't. I... I love her! And I think she loves me."

I cock my head at this, considering it. A love story has never shown up in the Games before. Maybe... maybe this could be an angle. I think back to watching Katniss and Peeta kissing in the bakery this morning. "And does Sweetheart know of this?"

To my surprise, Peeta nods. "She needed a lot of convincing, but... we've been seeing each other in total secret for weeks."

I am reminded painfully of myself and Rosemary. Even today, Merchant and Seam romances and marriages don't mix. The affair and wedding of Katniss's parents is still the last known instance of people Toasting the bread across class lines.

But with a romance like this, playing out in the arena... a possible win could do more good than I even thought possible.

"Well, Boy," I say. "You and I are gonna have a lot of interview prep to do."