I rise with the sun and am bewildered to discover that I am alone in bed. The faint clinking of pans below pulls me from the warm covers and down the stairs. I half expect to see Greasy Sae taking back up her usual job of keeping me alive, like the events of last evening never even happened. But its not her that I find standing in my kitchen. Its Peeta.
He must have went home to change because he is not wearing the same clothes as he was last night. He stands with his back to me in a crisp, white shirt. I cough lightly to let him know of my arrival.
He jumps a little, but he greets me with a grin. "Good morning."
"I was surprised that I woke up alone," I say with a blush forming on my face. Clearly, I am still not good at flirting.
Peeta's smile widens at my words and shrugs. "Baker's hours."
I nod at his reply and take a seat at the same spot I sat in last night. After a few minutes and final preparations, Peeta places a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. I greedily eat them. Once I am done, I sit back and watch him eat his last few bites. "Shouldn't you be at the bakery?" I ask him, wondering how little Rae could bake enough to keep the shelves full.
Peeta shakes his head and wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I baked extra yesterday before coming here?"
I raise my eyebrows at him and smirk. After a restful night, I'm feeling happier and more playful than ever. "You knew you'd be staying here?" I tease.
His eyes widen a fraction as if he's shocked by my question. "No, no," he stammers, trying to recover. "I just didn't think I'd want to go in after what happened with Rae..."
Oh, yes. The kissing incident with our own little Rae of sunshine. It gives me hope that he did not take pleasure in kissing her, but what did it mean for us? After last night, I don't know the answer. "Are you going to fire her?" The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
He sighs and leans back in his chair. "I thought about it, but I don't want to have to train someone new. I've also been thinking of hiring an assistant baker."
"Why?" I ask. Peeta loves baking. It's all he really talked about when we first met. I had always assumed that that would be his life, permanently smelling of cinnamon and dill.
"I'd rather spend more time with you."
His statement makes my whole face heat up, and I have to look away from him. It reminds me of all those times before the war that he said little love things like this to me, never expecting one in return. The old Peeta within him is slowly appearing more and more.
"What would we do with all of our free time?" I ask.
He smirks at me, and his eyes darken a bit. I can only imagine what boyish things his mind is thinking because my own teenage brain is thinking them too. It involves a lot of kissing. Instead, he tells me, "Well, not watching movies because you suck at that."
My mouth drops open as I fake a hurt expression. Its the first time in a long time that I remember my facing showing exactly what I am feeling. I'm so used to wiping it of all emotions. "I do not!"
"You do too!" He mocks me. "You fell asleep before the ending."
I cross my arms and lean back in my own chair. Pouting, I say, "Fine. Do you have a better idea?"
"Actually, I do," he says, but its not in a cocky way. It's sincere and serious. He sits up in his chair and looks me in the eyes. "I want to write a book."
"A book?" I ask in surprise. What could he possibly write a book about? The games? Painting and camouflage? Baking? Silent nightmares?
The idea seems insane until he says, "A book about people. The people we've lost. As a way to remember them by." I have always wanted to remember the people we've lost, but I could never think of a good way to do it. It's not shocking that Peeta constantly finds incredible ways to something to honor someone. Just like he did with the primroses.
My mind is spinning as I try to understand what he is saying. "Like the plant book, but about our families and the tributes." It's a brilliant idea.
He nods and smiles at my realization. Happy we're on the same page, he adds, "People that fought in the rebellion. Anyone really. We can even include Haymitch's people."
I'm giddy at the idea and can't wait to start. "The pictures. Are you going to draw all of them?"
"No," he shakes his head and holds up his hands. "I'd never be satisfied with them. I was thinking we could ask Effie to send us some."
Suddenly, I'm up from the table and heading towards the supply closet. My mother kept it stocked with pens and paper for Prim's school work, envelopes for letters, and more even though we may never use them. I find a book with a hard, leather cover. It almost matches my journal except it has blank pages.
Then, something registers in my mind. The journal is still sitting on my side table. I race back to the sitting room and find Peeta about to pick it up. "Don't touch that!" I yell as I continue to walk towards him. My voice is loud and alert.
He gives me a curious look but backs away from the table. "Everything okay?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at my sudden outburst.
I quickly collect it and shove it under a couch cushion. I had always suspected that Greasy Sae might have read it, but I didn't care at the time. Its just pages and pages of random thoughts and nightmares. She probably thought it was just me going crazy. But if Peeta got a look at it, he would understand it. He would know the secrets that haunt me. He's lived through most of them.
"It's a journal that Dr. Aurelius makes me keep" is all I say. My voice is quiet and shameful. I'm embarrassed that I even followed the orders in the first place.
Peeta's expression softens like he understands. Of course he does, he always understands. "That's great, Katniss. Did you find us a book?"
I hand the blank book over to him and silently thank him in my head. I can always count on him to bail me out of uncomfortable situations, like the redheaded Avox in the Capitol. He's so wonderful for helping me.
The first person we add is my father. I glue an old picture of him to the page and write down my favorite things about him. He taught me to love, to hunt, to stay alive even after he was gone. Next to him, I add a picture and heartfelt description of Prim. It's hard, but I manage to not cry in front of Peeta. I only let a few tears slip after he leaves to find some pictures of his own.
When he comes back, he holds a few pictures in his hands. The first is a family picture of his family. He sounds sad as he tells me what to write about each of them. I try my best to write them in neat handwriting. The next picture is a picture of Finnick. "How did you get that?" I ask him as I stare down at our old friend. He looks like he is so full of life, like the Finnick before the Quarter Quell. I wish I would have gotten to know that Finnick better.
He chuckles at me. "I'm a big fan," he teases and even I have to laugh. "No, Annie sent it to me in one of her letters. I told her about this idea. Oh, here's a picture of baby Finn." He hands me a clear picture of a tiny baby's face. It's cute, and I've never been one to find babies cute. I have the sudden urge to open all of the mail that I have been letting pile up since I came back here, but I don't. I know a few of the letters have been from Annie and Joanna.
From there, we make a list of the people we want to include in the book. There's a few people from District 12, all of the tributes from both of our games, the members of Squad 451, and a few people we had met along the way. Peeta is the one that calls Effie and asks for the pictures. He tells her hello from me and assures her that we are both alive and well.
In fact, this is the most alive and well I have felt since before the first games. The feeling of bliss has returned as I watch Peeta plan out the next couple of pages. Its exciting and fun to have something to look forward to.
Feeling giddy, both of us take our idea to Haymitch. He's somewhat sober, but it's only noon. As we eat Sae's lunch for him, some tomato based stew made from cattle, we create another list of people Haymitch wants to add. Twenty- three years of tributes, and he remembers them all by name. He even remembers the names of the children he fought almost twenty-six years ago. I relate to that. I don't think I will ever forget their names or faces. He also adds some of the other victors that were before our time, his family, and his girl. Once again, it is Peeta that calls Effie to ask for their pictures.
Two days later, the pictures arrive at my house, and we set to work on them. Haymitch finds it within himself to stay sober for one whole day, and he spends it with us and those we have lost. I'm in the middle of writing about the girl tribute before me when the phone rings. I freeze. The phone used to ring all the time, but I never answered it. The calls began to dwindle unless it's one of my planned calls on Thursdays. But its not Thursday, it's Sunday.
Haymitch and Peeta look at me to answer it, but I shake my head. I can't answer it. Peeta's the furthest away from the phone. He must know that neither of us are going to answer it and starts to move towards it. Then, Haymitch stops him. It's him that answers it.
"Hello?" There's a pause as Haymitch listens to the caller. "Hi, Plutarch. Yeah, Katniss is here with me. So is Peeta."
There's another pause, and my mind is filled with all the possibilities as to why Plutarch Heavensbee would be calling me. I already turned down his singing show idea. I doubt that he would ask me to be on another ridiculous Capitol show.
It's when Haymitch drops the phone that my heart drops into my stomach. He sound of it hitting the wooden floor mirrors me and my strong resolve breaking. This can't be good.
I can hear Plutchard's voice coming from the phone on the floor, but my eyes are trained on my mentor. "What is it, Haymitch?" Peeta asks in a voice that is less strong than normal. He must also feel affected by the dramatic scene Haymitch is setting.
Haymitch's face is solemn and paler than it was before. He looks like he could use a drink. "We're needed in the Capitol."