Chapter 6: Birthdays

The sunlight streams in through the curtains across my window, and I feel my eyelids flutter as the film of sleep lifts from my irises. I can hear mockingjays singing just outside, announcing a beautiful spring day.

Stretching, I sit up in bed. Last night was the first in a long while that I haven't had a nightmare. The times when I've been awoken in the middle of the night have left me screaming and been nearly unbearable. When the terrors have been bad enough, Haymitch has been the one to dash across the street and sit by my bedside until I can fall back to sleep. I've tried not to let my disappointment that another certain someone hasn't been over to comfort me. I know I shouldn't – can't – blame him, but Peeta still doesn't trust himself with me. Despite the fact that he's acting out of an abundance of caution, my feelings are still hurt, and in my darkest paranoia, I've wondered if it has something to do with me. Like I'm inadequate.

The restful night's sleep – rare as it is – is welcomed in any case. Maybe it's because people in Twel – sorry, Everdeen finally feel like we are masters of our own destiny as we begin to govern ourselves. Word arrived just the other day that Acting President Paylor approved our application for statehood, making us, rather appropriately, the 12th state of Panem. News reports indicate that at least two more, brand-new districts – states – will follow, settled from the wilds to the north. Upon being endowed with statehood, Paylor decreed that Mayors are now granted the authority of Governors, so Bert Petrie is the 1st Governor of the Great State of Everdeen. It will take some getting used to in learning the names of all the other new states, rather than their old district number, but it appears that a few other former districts had the same idea in their naming: District 3 is now Latier, District 4 the Great State of Odair. District 7 was given a clear majority to rename itself Mason, and when a reporter asked for comment from the lady herself, Johanna Mason barked that the change was entirely unoriginal. Even on the holoTV screen, though, I could tell: the only surviving Victor from her homeland was secretly, terribly pleased.

Or maybe my first good night sleep in some time is due to the date now circled on my calendar on the far wall. May 8th, which falls on a Saturday this year. My 18th birthday. That means Peeta will have the day off from the construction crews. I should take him out to the Meadow. No – the lake in the woods by Daddy's hunting cabin! It's high time the man learned how to swim – we didn't do enough of it in training for the Quell, and it almost cost us dearly.

All at once, a memory assaults me of Peeta being tugged under the waves by the male Victor from 10 (now known once again as Texas, as it was in the old days). Scrunching myself up into a ball, I rock on my heels and wait for the memory to play itself out. I know how it ends, thank the State – a cannon firing. A body floating to the surface, followed by Peeta, very much alive.

"Start with what you know is true…" I whisper, and I go through the basic facts in my head. I don't have to get through all of them before the image abates.

Huh. Maybe I can relate to what Peeta is going through more than I realized. I resolve to not be too hard on him if he has to keep his distance from me. We haven't discussed the idea of moving in together since Everdeen voted down the housing proposal involving Victors' Village. Give it time, and then I can float it to him when I feel the time is right. Because I am sure of one thing: I do want Peeta to move in with me – if possible, sooner rather than later. At the very least, my nights in bed might become more bearable. I have to imagine yesterday evening – peaceful and sound – was a one-off.

I suddenly hear what I think are voices floating up from downstairs. Frowning, I rise from my bed, my nightdress hugging my slim figure, and I pad to the landing outside my door.

"…. rose perfectly, thank the State!" I shiver at Peeta's dulcet tones.

"… you think she'll like it?" Haymitch is asking dubiously.

"Haymitch, ye of little faith, the way to a woman's heart is always through her stomach!" A pause, then what appears to be a smacking noise. "Oh – get your mind out of the gutter. I didn't mean it like that! We… we haven't even…"

Haymitch is chortling far too much, and I feel myself flush pink at the innuendo, even as my heart oddly flutters in delight at the thought of Peeta and I having sex.

I hear a creak on the bottom stair and I quickly steal back into my room and leap under the covers, pretending to be asleep. Moments later, the door creaks open and I hear Peeta and Haymitch's whispering.

"Good, she's still asleep…."

Footsteps circle the bed. Then I feel calloused and strong fingers shake me.

"Katty…. Katty… Katniss, wake up…"

I make a show of fluttering my lashes open, yawning and stretching. I take in Peeta innocently, with doe eyes.

"Peeta?" I murmur sleepily.

Grinning, Peeta presents a baking pan to me with a flourish. "Happy Birthday, sweetheart!"

I pretend to be terribly surprised by the cake he has baked for me. Really, it's a cake composed of my favorite pastry: cheese buns. "Oh, my goodness! When did you…?"

"Last night. I used your oven first thing this morning to make sure it stayed warm. Hope you don't mind."

"No, of course, I don't mind," I beam, too happy for words. Deciding something, I suddenly take Peeta's face in my hands and pull his lips down to mine for a long, deep kiss. He seems taken aback, but sinks into it easily, and when we finally break apart, not even caring that Haymitch is watching, my eyes are shining. I kiss him again, chastely this time, flinging my arms around his neck.

"Darling, thank you!"

When I feel Peeta stiffen in my embrace, at first I think it's because he's not used to having me hug him either. But then I feel his grip tighten under my shoulders almost painfully, and I'm about to make a joke over how I can't breathe, when Peeta growls.

"Why should you be grateful to me, you damn mutt?!"

I feel my heart constrict, my blood turn to ice. "Peeta….?"

I'm still being held in a vice-like grip, Peeta clambering onto his knees on the mattress to loom over me. I struggle, squeaking, but can't move. "I'm going to kill you right here, right now, you Capitol tool!"

"Peeta!" And I have never been more grateful that Haymitch decided to stick around even through my very public displays of affection. "PEETA, STOP!"

I feel Peeta's rippling forearms bang against my neck as something tries to yank him back, and I whimper. Peeta is trying to position his hands to get them around my throat, while also trying to fight Haymitch off. Our mentor is stronger, though, jerking Peeta out of my bed so sharply that he half-falls to the floor with a crash. Growling, Peeta tries to leap up, blue eyes darkened over and darting wildly about. Unsure which target should get priority, he switches objectives and foolishly tries to attack Haymitch for interfering.

Not a good idea. With what can only be the man's arena reflexes, Haymitch manipulates Peeta into a headlock, then flings his body to one side, ramming the boy's head deliberately against the front of my dresser. Peeta slumps in the drunk's hold, out for the count.

I sit up, clutching the bedsheets, mouth agape in horror. "HAYMITCH!"

"What?" he frowns, as though he just did little more than utter a bad word. "I just saved your life, Sweetheart!"

"And you thought giving him a concussion would do that effectively?!"

My mentor has the decency to look contrite, though it's obscured by how much the bastard is smirking over my deep concern about Peeta. Haymitch's childish behavior just gets me all the angrier and I continue to berate him.

"What if he is concussed? We haven't even hired a proper doctor or established a decent hospital yet, Haymitch! If Peeta ends up with a brain bleed because you can't control yourself…."

"Can't control myself? He was going to kill you! When that happens, you should know – I'm gonna thwap him in the head….!"

We're interrupted by a deep groaning, and Peeta's limp form shifts as he moves to stand. I fly out of bed as though burned, kneeling beside him, hands tenderly caressing his face.

"Peeta…. Peeta, sweetie, are you OK?"

I determine quickly that his memory hasn't been adversely affected, for as soon as he sees me, Peeta's orbs fill with regretful tears. "Snow's roses, Katty, I'm so sorry! I… I don't know what came over me!"

I float a finger over his lips. "Ssssh…." Replacing my finger with my lips, I kiss him quickly, stroking his face.

"I ruined…"

"Nothing. OK? You didn't ruin anything." I smile at him tenderly. "Would you mind feeding me my birthday present? I'll need help cutting the cheese buns."

"Cutting the cheese…" Haymitch starts snickering like a little boy, and we both glare at him.

"Not what I meant, Haymitch!" Tucking in the skirts of my nightdress, I sit daintily on the edge of my bed and happily allow Peeta to spoon-feed me my birthday cake of cheese buns.

Haymitch keeps us under his watchful stare. "Yeah. Cheese buns and concussions. Happy friggin' birthday to you, indeed."

The next birthday in the Village, close to a month later, leaves me feeling decidedly less happy.

I wake up the morning of June 4th with tears in my eyes, and I morosely trudge about my room, going downstairs to fix myself a pot of coffee. Behind my retinas, all I can see are the images of a little girl, twirling and happy.

14. Today would have been Prim's 14th birthday. I draw a hand to my mouth to keep a sob from escaping. What would she be doing now, if she were alive? Working with medical units in the Capitol? Or maybe she would be back here, helping to establish the hospital practice Everdeen still so badly needs? I feel sure of it.

I don't know how long I stand there silently weeping, but I barely hear the front door open and footsteps enter from the foyer. Then his arms are around me – only soft and not at all painful this time – and I sink into him, clutching at him.

"Her flowers in the garden are almost in full bloom," Peeta murmurs from where he is resting his chin on the top of my head. "Maybe come out into the garden and just watch them for a while?"

"No," I moan.

"Well, you can't very well stay in here and blubber all day!" There's Haymitch, from somewhere over by the kitchen island.

"Haymitch. Be a little more understanding…"

"At least commit to taking a walk into Town, Sweetheart. There's something the Boy and I want to show you anyway."

Though I'm too drained of energy to want to go anywhere, my curiosity boosts me just enough. "Why? What's in Town?" I lift my face from where it's been burrowed in Peeta's chest.

Haymitch smirks, already knowing the battle is won. "You'll see."

I remain tucked into Peeta's side as Haymitch leads the way out of my house, out past the green through the Village gates and down the hill. Though the drunk is clearly in more of a hurry to get there, he lets my partner and I set the pace, so that it takes on the countenance of a funeral march despite the bright sunniness of the day.

We finally enter the district Square, where a small but significant crowd has gathered. Twel – Everdeen is truly starting to come to life, and though Governor Petrie still expresses concern that the reconstruction effort isn't going as quickly as he would like, commerce has begun to pop up, foretelling a self-sustainable economy.

Off to one side of the steps mounting the Justice Building, there is a small dropcloth hung over something whose shape I can't begin to make out. It might be a sign of some sort.

Up on the stage where Effie once drew the names of children for death, Governor Petrie is fiddling with the microphone. An odd hush fell over the crowd the moment Haymitch, Peeta and I arrived in the Square, and now much of Everdeen – close to 400 strong by this time – are waiting expectantly for our Governor to speak.

"Ah, our fine Victors! Seeing as they have arrived, I suppose we can start…"

I glance over at the men. "What's going on?"

Haymitch is fighting to hold in a chuckle. "You'll see…"

Governor Petrie begins his speech: "As was determined in our preliminary elections in April, we voted to make our home the Great State of Everdeen with near-unanimity. However, what people might not know about the vote was that every single citizen in what was then known as District 12 voted to rename our land Everdeen…. except one. According to our records, there was a single vote to rename the district Primrose."

I can feel everyone's eyes on me, and I flush absolutely crimson. I did indeed write in the name Primrose on my ballot when asked what we should be called if accepted for statehood.

"Ordinarily, it isn't above-board to reveal how someone else voted, so I apologize to Miss Everdeen in advance. But I feel the information is good context for why we are gathered her today. As it has been quite clear to me, and to all of us, Primrose Everdeen was and shall remain an important part of our homeland's history, and even the history of the nation. It was in this very spot that she was selected for the dreaded Hunger Games, at that time unknowingly setting off the events that would eventually lead to revolution and our freedom." Governor Petrie pauses impressively, to smile down at me kindly.

"Therefore, by the power vested in me as the 1st Governor of this great State, I hereby decree by executive order that the Square before the Justice Building, where once our children were cruelly selected for death, shall be christened Primrose Square, on this day, June 4th, in the Year of our Lord 1 ATM – that will be After the Mockingjay to you young folk – and that this, her birthday, shall be declared Primrose Day!"

I clap a hand to my mouth and let out a deep shuddering sob of shock and gratitude, as Thom and Delly suddenly pull back the dropcloth with a flourish to reveal the sign that indeed reads Primrose Square. I turn back to Haymitch and Peeta, eyes shining.

"You knew about this?"

Peeta shrugs. "It was my idea. The Governor just helped me with it."

I gulp, overcome, my throat dry. "Kiss me," I demand suddenly.

Peeta blinks but then stoops and seals his mouth over mine. In the next instant, my fingers are weaving themselves into his blond curls and I tug him closer with a guttural groan, deepening the liplock as we embrace and kiss to cheers.