Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:
"What about your kids?"
Delly's face is determined. "They can choose their own path, just like you have."
"And your family?" I ask, thinking of my uncle.
"Mom will love her grandchildren no matter who the father is. And my dad, well, he'll come around. I'll just tell him I love Thom. I know he'll understand."
"I hope for your sake you're right."
"I know I am." If anything, her face becomes even more resolved. "Thom and I are going to be just fine. You'll see."
oOo
Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy
oOo
Chapter Twenty-Two: An Opportunity to Make Things Better
oOo
"If you have an opportunity to make things better and you don't, then you are wasting your time on earth."
― Roberto Clemente
oOo
I stumble through the door of my house to the sound of muffled tears. Not my tears. Today had been a good day at Haymitch's; Delly, Thom, and I managed to wade through most of Haymitch's kitchen cabinets and I have several boxes full of expired or nearly expired food to supplement our stores. There was so much that I sent both Thom and Delly home with a boxful, and there's still more that we just couldn't carry. We'll get them later.
I set my boxes down and look around to find the source of the tears. It's Prim. Standing at the stove, making dinner, all the while snuffling and crying.
My brother's nowhere to be seen, so I say, "Prim, is everything okay? Is it Aven?"
"No." Her voice comes out half in a sob.
"Mom?" Her death would be the worst thing that could happen to us aside from me being Reaped for the Games. I wouldn't be able to keep that a secret. I'm barely managing to keep her incapacitation a secret as it is.
"No." She sniffs. "They're fine."
"Well, what's wrong? Did you get your monthlies?" I remember the first time I had cramps; all I wanted to do was lay in bed and cry.
"No." The word is plaintive, crying.
"So what is it?"
"Rory Hawthorne kissed me!"
A sheet of red descends over my eyesight. How dare Gale's little brother kiss my little sister without her permission? "Do you want me to kill him?" I ask with all seriousness.
She whirls and stares at me with her mouth agape. "What? No! It was just a kiss." She swipes at her eyes with one hand. "My first kiss."
"Oh." I'm not sure what to say. "Did you... want it?"
"I didn't not want it."
"Did he force you?" That's important to me. I don't care if Rory is only twelve, no one forces my sister to do anything she doesn't want. No one.
"No. Not really, no."
I take over at the stove and press a heel of bread into Prim's hands. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"
She starts picking at the bread with her fingers, then blurts out, "So I was picking Aven up from Hazelle's today after spending some time out in the woods. I got a goose!"
"That's nice." It is, but it's not relevant to the story. If she were anyone else other than my little sister, I'd be telling her to get to the point. But she is, so I don't.
"It's in the oven."
"That explains the smell. Hey." I nudge her with my shoulder. "Good job." I hope my praise will give her the confidence she needs to tell me the rest.
She preens a little. "So when I went to Hazelle's, Rory was there. And, you know, we're friends. We talk, we eat lunch together. He seemed all happy to see me, and he offered to walk me home. And I said yes."
"Uh huh," I say, thinking back to Peeta and my own misunderstanding about what walking home could mean. It seems like my sister takes after me in that respect. What can I say; she is an Everdeen.
"And so we walked home and it was nice and he held my hand and he held Aven's hand. And we talked."
"What about?"
"Oh just stuff," she says evasively much to my frustration. "Like how Gale's teaching him how to do stuff out in the woods, and Gale's getting really frustrated with him. So I offered to help him with some things like tracking, 'cause you know, we're friends. And he got all smiley and happy and he said, 'You know, Prim, that's why I like you,' and then he kissed me." She's tearing apart the bread I gave her.
Usually I'd point out that she's wasting food, but we have enough from Haymitch. And I think she needs something to do with her hands more than she needs bread right now. "Uh huh," I prompt instead.
"And I kind of maybe sort of kissed him back."
I stir the pot. "And how was the kiss?"
"Wet. He'd been licking his lips a lot." A chunk of bread breaks off in her hand and she stares at it for a second. "But it was sort of nice."
"And then what happened?"
"Well, then he got all red and stammered out something like 'I'll see you tomorrow,' and ran off." She sniffs again.
"So why are you crying?"
"Because my kiss was so bad that it made Rory run away!"
Oh, Prim. There's a giant part of me that's relieved that Prim's crisis is something so incredibly normal. That she's crying over a boy that she likes kissing her, and that he maybe doesn't like her back rather than worrying about having to take out tesserae or our mother's illness. I used to worry about things like that. Once. Long ago. Before our father died. It makes me feel incredibly old, yet at the same time happy. My sister is acting like a normal child, with normal thoughts and fears. I know our parents worked hard to give us some semblance of a childhood; knowing that my sacrifices have made it so Prim can regain hers makes everything I've gone through worth it. Smiling, I turn around and look at her. "Rory didn't run away because you were a bad kisser. Rory ran away because he didn't know what to do after he kissed you."
"He did?" Her eyes are wide as she stares at me.
"Yup. Boys are stupid that way." I change the subject just a little. "Do you like Rory?"
"Well yeah, he's my friend."
"No, I mean, do you like like Rory? As in, like a boyfriend?"
"I dunno." She tears off another piece of bread. "Kinda. I mean, he's cute. He's got really nice hair that's sort of wavy, and it falls into his face."
She likes him. I know my sister, and she definitely likes him.
"Do you want to kiss Rory more? Do you want him to be your boyfriend?" If she doesn't then we need to have the talk about how to tell Rory that she's not interested.
"I don't have time for a boyfriend," she responds immediately, without thought.
Boy, do I know how that feels.
Then she blinks. "What do boyfriends and girlfriends do anyway?"
"Why are you asking me?" I blurt out, warmth flooding to my cheeks.
"Because you've had boyfriends! I mean, there's Bran Hatfield, and there's Gale, and there's Peeta, and Darius."
"I never dated Peeta or Darius," I say quickly. I didn't. They may have thought it, but neither was a real relationship. With Peeta, it wasn't mutual or discussed. With Darius… well, there was his whole Peacekeeper thing. Maybe if circumstances were different, I would have dated them but-. I don't let myself finish that thought.
Prim just gives me a look.
"But yes, I've had boyfriends," I say in response to my sister. "With Bran Hatfield… we didn't do a lot together. He was interested in hanging out with his friends most of the time, and I just hung out with them. It was boring."
"And Gale?"
"We hunted a lot. He was a great hunting partner." I really regret losing him as a hunting partner, but I was young and stupid and didn't think things would change when we started dating. They did. "But he was a bad boyfriend. He wanted to do more than I was ready for, and when I told him no, he got angry. That's why we broke up." I give her what I hope is a stern look. "Don't ever let anyone push you into doing things you aren't ready for."
"I won't." She gestures with the bread, then seems to realize she's still holding it and puts what's left of the torn-apart piece on the counter. "But what did you do while you dated?" She stresses the word 'do.'
I shrug. "I don't know, just hung out. Talked. Did things together. We went to the after-Reaping party once. And we kissed and hugged and there was some over-the-clothes touching. But that's about it."
"So if I wanted to date Rory, we'd still do friend things?"
"That'd be up to you and Rory."
"And if he wanted to be my hunting partner, that'd be okay?"
Ah, that explains some of her reluctance. She doesn't want to let me down. "It's okay with me. I hope you don't mind that I'd sometimes like to hunt with you too, but if you want Rory to be your permanent hunting partner since I have to work at Haymitch's, I'm okay with it."
"But what if we break up?"
"Then you break up and you and Rory have to decide what you're willing to do as ex-boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Would we have to stop being hunting partners? You and Gale did."
She's right. But me and Gale aren't her and Rory. "I don't know, Prim. That would be for you and Rory to decide."
"But why do I have to make so many decisions?"
I turn around and take her shoulders, looking her straight in the face. "Because you and Rory are the only people who can decide what is right for you. Everyone else can give you advice. They can make suggestions. But ultimately, the only person who can decide what you can do with your body and your heart-" I tap her on the chest "-is you."
"And if I don't want to date Rory?"
"Then don't date Rory."
"But… but what if he wants me to, and I don't want to?"
"Then you don't date Rory. Rory doesn't get to decide for the both of you." And if he tries to, I will stop him, but I don't need to say that out loud. "That's what happened with me and Peeta and with me and Darius. They wanted to date me and I didn't want to date them. You get to set your limits. For instance, if you want to date Rory but don't want to be his hunting partner, that's okay. You should never be forced to give up yourself to be with someone else. Whether it's your friends or your family or even something you like. Do you understand, Little Duck?"
Prim bites her lip and nods. "I think so."
I wrap my arms around her and give her a hug. "Good. Now why don't you go get Aven and let's have dinner."
oOo
When I get to Haymitch's Thursday after school, there's an envelope waiting for me on the kitchen counter. I frown; Haymitch paid me on Sunday. All of the businesses I have delivering to Haymitch's, I either pay weekly or upon delivery. I'm not expecting anything today. So what could this be?
I open it up, and my jaw drops. It's the permit. Good through June 1st of this year. But who got this? Where did it come-
And then it hits me. Haymitch.
The bastard went out and got me a permit.
I stomp up to the one habitable bedroom. No Haymitch.
I make a quick tour of the rest of the house and confirm my suspicions. The sneak! He put it out where he knew I would find it and then ran away so I couldn't confront him over it!
If that bastard thinks he can escape me, he's got another think coming.
I storm out of the house and make a beeline for the Hob. If he's not home, there's pretty much only one place he can be.
My suspicions are confirmed as soon as I enter the old coal depository. There he is, in front of Ripper's stall, a mostly-empty bottle of white liquor on the counter in front of him. "What's this?" I say, striding up to him and flourishing the permit in front of his face.
He pushes it away. "What's it look like, sweetheart?"
"It looks like somebody doesn't know how to mind his own business!"
Haymitch blinks blearily and stares up at me. "Last I checked, you workin' for me is my business. Did somebody change the rules when I wasn't looking?"
"I told you, I can't afford this!" I am not losing a month's worth of pay for this. Not now. Not when I'll have to pay for it all over again.
His eyebrows rise. "You think I'm gonna make you pay for it?"
"You buying me a permit's not in my contract." I know. I checked.
"Yeah, but the contract does state that the contractee, me, is responsible for any tools needed by the contractor, you. This, sweetheart," he pokes at the piece of paper, "is a needed tool. You need this to do your work. Therefore, I need to pay for it." He turns to Ripper. "Can I get another bottle?"
"This isn't over," I tell him.
"Sure it is. I'll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early." Then he very visibly ignores me, much to Ripper's obvious amusement.
I stare at him, because honestly, what else can I do? The old Victor is right.
Damn him!
oOo
It's strange, the feeling of not having to sneak around town on a weekday. I keep catching people's eyes following me, little whispers of conversation. Nothing concrete, nothing I can put a finger on, but it's eerie. I feel out of place. Like I don't belong. But I have the permit on me to prove I should be here and not in school.
I'm going to miss having lunch with Thom, Delly, and Peeta. But that's pretty much the only thing I'll miss. I never liked school. It was a waste of time and energy. I didn't see why I needed to learn so much about coal, or the Dark Days. It didn't matter. Neither would put food in my belly. To work in the mines, the only thing I need is the willingness to do so. They'll take anyone from the Seam who can do the work. It doesn't matter how they did in school or how neat their handwriting is.
A little smile slips across my face. Speaking of, now I won't have to write that stupid essay Delly keeps going on about. I didn't know what to write anyway. Now I don't have to write anything.
It's a relief. Something good. And I'm not used to that. So I spend the whole day on knifepoint, waiting for the Gamemaker twist that never comes.
That afternoon I talk with Hazelle and tell her I don't need her to take care of Aven anymore. I don't tell her why; I'd rather have her assume that my mom has gotten better.
She seems relieved. The work I've given her from Haymitch is keeping her busy, and unlike her other clients, well-paid. She doesn't need my tesserae, and I'd rather use it as feed for the animals.
I take my brother's hand and we walk the short distance back to our house. Aven's chattering at me excitedly about the game he played with Posy. It's complex and simple in the way that only three-year-olds can imagine, and I'm only half paying attention. My mind is instead on everything I'm going to do now that I don't have to go to school. Why, I can hunt during the day. Set traps. Fish. Even put in a garden. All of it I can claim I'm doing for Haymitch. After all, he likes to eat the fruits of my illegal labors. So long as I don't get caught going under the fence and make sure to give Cray first crack at any turkeys I get, I should be safe.
I check on my mother, noting with some concern that there are these dark red marks on her lower back, right above her buttocks. I change what I can only call her diaper, but I'm not really sure what I can do. Maybe some lanolin? I don't know. I admit I'm probably not taking care of my mother as good as I should, but I don't have the time or the money to do so. And if I'm honest with myself, part of me feels like she deserves it. She's the one who abandoned us, who's refusing to get better. Prim and I shouldn't have to take care of her, especially not for over five months.
But we do. There's no one else.
So I get out the lanolin.
I'm finishing up when there's a knock on the front door. "Prim, can you get that?" And then I remember Prim's not home yet.
I wipe my hands on my pants and go to answer the knock, making sure to close the door to the bedroom. I hope it's not Darius. And I hope it's not another potential client for my mother. I'm starting to run out of the few herbs I know how to use.
But it's not a client. It's Nata.
"Oh good, I have the right house," she says as she breezes through the door and sits daintily down on one of our shabby kitchen chairs.
I stare at her. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd let you know that Peeta and I have officially broken up," she announces in a smug tone of voice.
"When did that happen?" I sit down across from her.
"Today, at lunch," she says in a light airy voice.
"Oh." We sit in awkward silence for a few heartbeats. "So… why are you telling me?"
She rolls her eyes. "Why, so that you and Peeta can finally stop dancing around each other. Duh."
"I'm not dancing around or with Peeta."
Nata just stares at me.
"I'm not!"
"You so are. It's okay." She reaches out and pats the back of my hand. "We're not dating anymore, so he's all yours." She tilts her head. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to have to avoid you for the next month or so."
My stomach curls. "Am I the cause for you guys breaking up?"
A little feline grin spreads across her lips. "Maybe."
Well that explains the whispers in town.
"If it makes you feel any better," she continues when I don't say anything, "I didn't say your name specifically. Just let it be known that there was somebody else who had stolen my darling Peeta's heart and that I refused to be second place in my beloved's heart." She dramatically clasps a hand to her heart.
"...Please tell me you didn't actually say that." It takes all of my self-control not to smack myself on the forehead.
"Down to the letter."
I stifle the urge to beat my head against the wall. "So what did Peeta say when you confronted him about this?"
"Oh, he stuck to the script."
Like that tells me anything. "What did the script say?"
She waves a hand. "Well, they weren't my lines, so I'm going to have to paraphrase. But it went something like 'I tried to love you to the best of my ability, but I can't control who my heart desires. If only I had met you first, then maybe we could have been something.'" Her rendition is dramatic, like one of those Capitol soap operas. Then she shakes her head and her voice returns to normal. "Or something like that. But he was glorious and beautiful and he said it perfectly."
I have never been as grateful as now for the timing of Haymitch's permit. I think if I'd been there in person I would've melted into a pile of embarrassed goo and seeped through the cracks in the floor. "So I take it the engagement is off?"
"It never even got off the ground." Her smile is smug, satisfied. Like a cat who just got a bowl of cream or a fat mouse. "I really should thank you for letting me borrow your boyfriend for our little charade."
"He's not my boyfriend."
Tilting her head, Nata leans forward and says in a conspiratorial tone, "He will be if you want him to be."
"Right, and how am I supposed to tell him?"
"I hear kissing works. You should kiss him." She nods once as if to emphasize her point.
"Why do I feel like everybody is rooting for Peeta and me to get together?"
"Because we are."
I sink into the chair and flop my head against the table, beating my forehead against the weathered wood. Why me? Why now?
Nata leans over and pats me on the shoulder. "There there. I'm sure everything will be better when you finally admit your feelings."
I'm sure Nata couldn't be more wrong.
oOo
AN:
Written: 9/16/18
Revised: 11/2/18
Nata and Peeta have officially broken up...not that they were actually dating in the first place. And yes, Nata is shipping Everlark. Because everybody ships Everlark. (For everyone who was waiting for them to break up: we agreed with you. We were seriously sitting here going "next chapter guys, next chapter.")
So Prim's kind of sort of dating Rory. She still has to make the decision. But it's a relationship between twelve-year-olds. Unlike Let Me Fly, don't expect this to go very far.
As for the permit, of course Haymitch was going to pay for it as soon as he knew about it. And of course Katniss should've had Haymitch pay for it from the beginning. We spelled out earlier what the contract covered, and that Katniss didn't need to pay out of her own pocket for anything she needed to do her job. Well, she needed the permit to do her job! But this is Katniss, and the dear girl is very literal. She's also got one hell of a chip on her shoulder and well, that's gonna cause problems dontcha know?
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