Chapter 7: You Sure are Pretty

I rise early on the morning of my second Reaping the middle of that following summer. Gale and I risk the likely enhanced security of the fence and manage to get back in and out with a good haul and without getting caught. We take opposite ends of the Hob to offload all the stuff. When I'm down to only some boar meat, I make a beeline for Rooba's stall only to find it empty.

"She's trading in her shop today, girl child," Greasy Sae calls to me helpfully from the next stall down. "One can never be too careful on Reaping Morning. Try there."

I nod my thanks, confer with Gale in the center of the market and tell him I have to go by the butcher's shopfront to sell off the last of our game.

"Hurry back home when you're done; the Reaping's in a couple hours. Wear something pretty," he advises me.

I hurry out of the black market, only just noting that the handsome redheaded Peacekeeper I saw arriving this spring is stationed near the Hob's entrance. His piercing, strangely kind stare (at least for a Peacekeeper) lingers on me as I hurry up the street.

Rooba is present and amiable behind the counter of the deli when I arrive. Ever since I brought Peeta along to the Hob this past winter, she has taken to asking me questions about her nephew. Her twinkling stare has a knowing, mischevious quality to it, and I feel a little like she's probing my soul. Like she thinks there's something going on. Only there isn't – at least not between Peeta and me. That's ridiculous!

"Fifteen," Peeta's aunt declares, and I cock an eyebrow, surprised but pleased.

"Really? That's awfully generous of you, Rooba."

She lifts the boar meat into her arms, to lug it back to the freezers. "Everyone needs a bit of luck and kindness on Reaping Day, dearie. Maybe nab yourself a Reaping Kiss too, if you're of the mind – then you'll really feel like nothing can touch you!" She winks at me, and I have a feeling she has a candidate in mind who she thinks I should Reaping Kiss. I try not to let my cheeks turn pink.

Rafe Cronin, Rooba's son, comes swaggering in from the back just then.

"Fifteen coins for this young lady, Rafe, while I get this venison loaded in the freezer," Rooba grunts. She exits behind the dropcloth leading into the back.

Rafe hops the counter and begins going through the till, dealing out the coin into his palm. He circles back out to hand it directly to me.

"That boar venison I saw my mama carrying?"

I nod, accepting the payment. Rafe's eyes gleam with bloodthirsty admiration. "Damn, girl. Shooting like that…." His eyes rove over my body in appraisal. "And looking fine while doing it."

I curl into myself, feeling uncomfortable. "Th-Thank you. I have to go…."

"What's your hurry?" Rafe throws out an arm to block me when I try to run past him. His smile is arrogant, and almost predatory. "You sure are pretty…."

I stare at him, jaw dropped.

"Kiss me," he blurts out.

I slap him across the face. Rafe just laughs.

"Reaping Morning, after all. Just one little kiss for luck? Betcha haven't had one yet."

"So what if I have?" I throw out sharply, backing away. Rafe advances, his eyes sparkling with a combination of lust, dubiousness and intrigue. I might be lying – I haven't had a Reaping Kiss this year, nor do I intend to get one (provided Vick Hawthorne doesn't give me an adorable one like last time), but when I picture who I would want to share a Reaping Kiss with, the list is extremely short and Rafe Cronin for damn sure isn't on it. A beautiful moptop of blonde hair swims in my head and I hold onto it like a lifeline as Rafe literally tries to back me into a corner.

"Don't believe it. Unless, of course, you've been sleeping around with my cousin, like everyone says."

It takes me a second to figure out who Rafe is talking about; in the interim, Rafe flicks out a hand and catches the hem of my blue dress. I twist away in revulsion, looking for an escape.

"Peeta?" I ask. "W-who's saying we've been sleeping around?" I just might die from how red my face is.

"Lotsa folks. But you wouldn't want to spread your pretty legs for a lickspittle like that now, would you?" I bump into the back far wall and Rafe throws out both arms to cut me off. Nowhere to run now. He leans in, leering. "Wanna know what it's like to kiss a real Twelve boy?"

"No…." I whimper.

His lips crush against mine, bruising, but just for a second. I let out a squeal of indignation, flinging out a wild fist.

WHAM!

My knuckles connect with the side of Rafe's jaw and I taste blood once it sprays into my face. He howls, and goes crashing to the floor. I wipe the back of my hand hard across my mouth, making a face at Cronin's lingering taste. Then I run for it, the curses and yells of Rafe echoing at my back.

Peeta notices how shaken I look when we find ourselves standing together in the check-in line. "Are you all right, Katty? You look a little pale."

I shake my head, trying to keep tears from leaking out of my eyes. "I'm fine…."

Like Gale before him, Peeta has become really adept at knowing when I'm lying, but he considerately does not force the issue. The line eases forward a little more, my friend stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"So: got yourself a Reaping Kiss this year?"

I jump nearly a foot in the air at the question, glancing to him with wild eyes. Peeta frowns so hard, his homespun golden eyebrows nearly stitch together.

"OK….. I take it yes, but not from Vick Hawthorne?" His smile is tight, even with his clear teasing in an attempt to make me laugh. I don't take the bait, no matter how much I desperately want to. My dear friend is frowning now too. "Katniss…. did something happen? You're scaring me….."

"I said it's fine," I shake my head, imploring with him to leave it. I can't think of a way to change the subject, so I turn it back on him. "Did Delly kiss you again this year?" I'm as shocked as Peeta seems to be over the…. hostility in my own voice.

Peeta side-eyes me worriedly. "No, actually…." He admits slowly. "I couldn't find anyone in time."

My heart hammers with fear in my chest. I used to think that the Reaping Kiss doesn't hold any real power, that it's just a superstition. A part of me still thinks that, but if Peeta goes into this Reaping without any kind of protection whatsoever….

"…. Would you like to?"

I blink. "Would I like to what?"

Peeta is as red as a tomato. "Would you like…. that is…. Can I give you a Reaping Kiss?"

"May I give you a Reaping Kiss?" I upturn my lips at the thought of how I always have to correct his grammar, though it's slight. When I take a moment to answer, Peeta hesitantly takes a step closer.

I flinch away as though I've just been burned. "No, thank you!" I squeak.

Peeta's blue eyes are piercing, and I want to die of humiliation. And…. guilt. With what happened between me and Rafe, I have the strangest feeling of being…. unfaithful, somehow. The sensation makes no logical sense, but it festers inside me all the same. And although I say nothing, I can't shake the feeling that Peeta knows. He knows something is wrong now.

We both get out blood pricked for check-in without incident, splitting off towards opposite ends of the Sqaure to stand with the other thirteen-year-olds – he with the boys, I with the girls.

Effie Trinket bounds onto the stage like she's the opening act at a rock concert. "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor as we select one young boy and girl to represent District 12 in the 71st Annual Hunger Games. Ladies first!"

I pinch my eyes shut tight, but it's not my name plucked from the bowl.

"Eva Marsh!"

A russet-skinned, tall, 18-year-old girl takes the stage, her Seam eyes glowering.

"Rafe Cronin!" Effie calls out for the boys.

My mouth falls open in disbelief. I think this is the first time anyone I actually know has been selected for the Games. It's a disquieting feeling. I watch closely as a terrified and simpering Rafe Cronin trudges up the center aisle, flanked by Peacekeepers. In the bright afternoon sun, I can see a clear stain at the front of his brown courduroy pants: he's pissed himself from sheer fright.

Rafe is trembling now as the Peacekeepers have to haul him the rest of the way up to the stage. A few paces off, slouched in his chair, Haymitch is rolling his eyes and reaching for his flask and not bothering to hide either. Clearly, he remembers Rafe from his lecture to our Hunger Games History class last year. Our only living Victor is almost certainly about to be proven right. Rafe is cannon bait, for no 13-year-old has ever won the Games. No one younger than 14 has, and that unusual case only occurred once, six years ago.

Internally, I am at war with myself. It is never easy to see someone this young go into the arena, and this time, it's someone I know, but at the same time, I can't resist sending up a grateful prayer to the sky:

Thank You.

However, there's still something that doesn't make sense – something that I continue to turn over in my mind as I disperse with everyone else out of the Square, and Eva and Rafe are taken into custody. For now I have solid proof….

"The Reaping Kiss didn't work…." I breathe.

"Huh?" I turn to see that Peeta is at my side as we are bumped and jostled along with the flow of kids out of the Square. "What do you mean?"

I gulp, the words tumbling out of me in a whisper before I can stop them:

"The Reaping Kiss didn't protect Rafe."

Peeta frowns. "How do you know Rafe even got a Reaping Kiss?" Then his blue eyes bulge, as he answers his own question. "Katniss…. did you Reaping Kiss my cousin?"

"More like he kissed me first," I mumble. "I didn't want to…."

"You didn't want to?" Peeta's voice is rising in protective anger. Taking my elbow, he maneuvers me into a darkened alleyway. Spinning me to face him, his eyes are hard. "What happened?"

I fold like one of Haymitch Abernathy's cheap Capitol suits. "I had to stop by your aunt's shop to trade some boar meat, since she wasn't at the Hob this morning. When she went round the back, I was left alone with Rafe for a couple of minutes so he could pay me. He… he started flirting with me. Flicked my dress. Demanded that I Reaping kiss him. I refused but he cornered me and then he kissed me. I…. I punched him."

Peeta's eyes seem to brighten for just a moment at this revelation. "Hard?"

"Right in the jaw," I murmur.

Peeta's own jaw clenches tight as he runs a hand along his strong chin. "Serves him right," he spits at last. "I hope a Career breaks his neck!"

I gape in utter shock. "Peeta, he's still your cousin…."

My friend just laughs derisively. "It's not like we've ever been close, with the way my mom is. We see each other at school, and that's largely it." He chuckles darkly again. "As to your question, I highly doubt a Reaping Kiss stolen without consent would offer much of any protection. Karma's a funny thing, isn't it?"

I shrug, picking at my skirts. "I guess you're right." There is a slight silence. Then:

"Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"When Rafe was…. fooling around with me, he said something that I don't really understand. He…. he said that people were talking. Wondering about us…. you and me. Rafe said, 'my cousin' and I guessed he was referring to you…."

"Who's wondering about us?"

"He didn't name names, but people I guess are wondering…. If you and I…. that we…." I turn scarlet. "Are sleeping together."

Peeta chuckles again. "People are idiots, Katty," he informs me. Noticing how my face falls a little, he tries to adorably backpedal. "Not that I…. I wouldn't want to…. sleep with…." His voice trails off awkwardly. He clears his throat. "Is Rafe why you got all skittish when I asked….?"

I nod. "Uh-huh." My voice is small.

Peeta huffs out a breath. "You poor thing. So far, your Reaping Kiss record includes a peck from a first grader, and a sexual assault at the hands of my idiot cousin. You'll have to up your game next year, though I wouldn't blame you if you never want another Reaping Kiss again…."

"I might!" I suddenly blurt out, gazing at him. Peeta freezes, studying me. I feel like I'm burning all over. "I…. I might, if… if he was a nice…. guy," I condition lamely.

Peeta steps in close, and I resist the urge to flinch like I did before in the check-in line. "Would I be included on this list of nice guys?" His voice has dropped to a whisper, and now sounds quite husky.

Eyelashes fluttering, lids heavy, I bob my head dazedly. "Yeah….." A pause, and then: "You're worth the whole damn list put together!"

He chuckles, and my cunt clenches in delight. "Must be a pretty short list. I'm just thankful to be on it…."

He leans in. I'm already against the wall of the nearest storefront. I have the strangest feeling that we've been here before, behind the outhouse just beyond Abernathy Mine. And despite the bizarre day I've had, I know, as Peeta's eyes dart to my lips and he dips his head close to me, that if he does kiss me, I won't…. push him…. away….

"PEETA! Where are you, boy?!"

The shrill call pierces the musky air before our lips can touch, causing Peeta to nearly jerk into my waiting and eager mouth anyway. He takes two steps back, teeth gnashing at the sound of his mother.

"I'd better go…." he mumbles. "Unless you need me to walk you home?"

His gallant concern, especially considering that I was the victim of an unwanted kiss this morning, makes my heart swell in affection for this man. "N-no, I should be fine, but thank you."

Peeta runs his tongue over his lower lip, deep in thought, and I nearly let out a whimper. "Let's table this. For next year."

I nearly faint. "O-Ok," I squeak.

His blue eyes sparkle. "Then you'll allow it?"

I gulp, throat dry. "I'll allow it," I whisper.

And I watch, head spinning, as Peeta ducks out of the alleyway.