Chapter 4


"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she muttered, balling the paper up in her hand. Mr. Crane had just finished giving her an official write up for not being 'personable' enough with the clients at Panem Fitness. He'd ripped her up and down for not being friendly, outgoing, or even pleasant. In fact, he pretty much confirmed that most of the gym patrons seemed to avoid her because of her scowl.

He told her she was cold and distant and that wasn't what he was looking for in his trainers. He told her to shape up or ship out – his words exactly.

She stalked into the employee only locker room, crumpled up her copy of the write up, and tossed it into the trash. Hastily turning the combination of her padlock, she yanked it open and let it bam loudly back against the other lockers. It was early and most employees weren't in yet, so she didn't feel a bit guilty about having her little hissy fit.

She hated this job and hated it even more than she needed it like hell. Trying was the only option. She couldn't lose this crappy job and that killed her. If she lost her job now, she'd risk everything – Prim's tuition, their house, and any chance at survival they had. The old, historic home she and Prim lived in was nothing special. It was cheap, roomy, and the rent had remained at the same number for the last three years. Her landlord pretended not to notice when she was a few days late on the rent or her share of the sewer bill, but if she lost her job? It was hard to imagine he'd let them stay long.

"Fuck," she grunted, slamming her hand into the door. It gave a satisfying slam as it bounced against the metal of her open padlock. The door swung back into place to reveal the face of the absolute last person she wanted to see at that moment besides Cato or Mr. Crane.

"Rough morning?" Gale asked, his green eyes twinkling.

She wanted to haul back and smack him at the sight of his smug grin. Gale had always been a morning person and he had always loved to give her a good natured ribbing in the morning when she was still in a sour 'don't talk to me' stupor.

"Fuck off, Gale," she spat.

He just chuckled. He was used to her candor and spitfirey-ness in the mornings.

"What'd you do now, Catnip?" he asked, his sing-song tone almost bored.

"Don't call me that," she snapped sharply, yanking a towel out of the locker. She balled it up and considered punching something. Gale, the lockers, what did it matter?

"Go on," he ignored her, gesturing good naturedly.

She slumped against the lockers. Gale wasn't really who she was angry at – she wasn't even angry at Mr. Crane or even Cato. She was sucky at her job and she knew it – Cato was a shitty choice in date and she knew it. She had no one to blame for getting into these crappy situations but herself.

Swallowing her pride, she looked at her best friend. He was swirling some sort of concoction that looked like black dirt in drink form and watching her with mild interest. She exhaled sharply with a snort.

"Do I scowl all the time?"

He took a sip of his protein shake and swallowed, nodding to himself. "You mean your everlasting case of Resting Bitchface?" he deadpanned. "Yes, you have it quite often."

"Resting bitchface? What does that even mean?"

"Buzzfeed did an entire article on it. It means you scowl, Catnip. Even when you're not being a bitch your face is just twisted into this…bitchy, scowl-y,….well, bitchface. Now come on, what's this all about? Crane jump up your ass or something?"

"Got written up. Asshole actually wrote me up and threatened to give me a pay decrease for being cold, distant, and for….basically scowling all the time."

She ripped off her t-shirt she wore into work and tried not to notice as Gale wrinkled his nose at the sight of her in a sports bra. Hastily pulling on her annoyingly tight Panem Fitness tank top, she yanked it into place and slammed her locker shut and secured the padlock.

"I don't mean to always scowl."

"But you do always scowl."

She glared at him.

He held up his hands in mock defense, nearly spilling his shake. "I tell you that all the time."

"I know. It's just that…..I know you got me this job and I should just be thankful but I hate it Gale, I hate it," she groaned, reaching down to stretch out the hem of her shirt. She still wasn't sure how people got used to wearing such tight clothes all the time. Nothing like having it all out on display.

"Ungrateful much? Jesus, Kat…"

"Don't call me that. Your stupid boss calls me Kat and I fucking hate it," she snapped.

"Our boss. And…you don't hate it, you hate Crane and you hate most people, but you don't suck at it. You hate it because it forces you out of your comfort zone. You have to talk to people, smile once in a while and try to just put yourself out there. It's a gym, Katniss, it's not NASA. You can do this – you're fit, you're capable, and you just have to try a little. I think you'll find it won't kill you," he said, giving her a charming smile.

She rolled her eyes and for an instant worried they'd get stuck that way. "Easy for you to say. For being an absolute troll you seem to be able to turn on the charm and customer service whenever you want to."

He shrugged. "Whatever keeps me out of a monkey suit all day and doing something physical that pays the bills, sure," he replied. "I never wanted to live that kinda life. Nine to five, stuck in a cube being slowly choked by a tie. That wasn't me, never was…and it isn't you. You could be doing something worse than teaching yoga and working on your abs all day. Admit it. For the first time in your life you have a job that has decent hours, fair pay, and you didn't have to clean out a fry bin today. It could be so much worse, don't you get it?"

The only thing worse than Gale thinking he was right was Gale actually being right.

"I guess…"

"So quit bitching about your life – that is back on track for once, by the way…you're welcome," he grumbled playfully. "Just get out there and do a good job so I don't look like the dick that got the boss to hire his lazy ass friend…who has a resting bitchface."

She swung at him as he burst out laughing.

"I hate you!" she snapped, but as soon as he let her hit him on the second swing, she couldn't help but bust up laughing. Gale was right – she was just trying to ruin a good thing before she let herself be happy. She needed to stop it, straighten out, and do her job.

"Maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right."

"Well," she sighed, "You usually think you're right. But eh…I will. I'll try to behave and just work and not scowl all the time."

"Gale Hawthorne: personal trainer and life coach."

"Don't get cocky."

"Already there."


And she tried that day – she honestly tried. After her pep talk with Gale, Katniss was resigned to finally step up and put her mind to succeeding at her job. They finished their morning set up and once everyone was at work, met for the morning 'huddle' as Mr. Crane liked to call it. There they talked about classes they would teach, who was in charge of setting up what, and what exercises they needed to try to incorporate into their one on one sessions for the day.

It was a Saturday – the gym's busiest day. People put off working out all week long and the first day of the weekend was always the day when the guilt would drive them back in. They were almost fully staffed that day for the anticipated rush. Finnick, one of Gale's best friends who was nice but ticked Katniss off by completely objectifying women was working, along with Gale's current random hookup, Johanna. Cato, Marvel, and a slew of other beefed up guys with ridiculous names were also working that day. She snickered to herself – most of the guys that worked there could barely form sentences. The only thing they did know how to do was lift weights over and over, take selfies in the mirror, and look great in a pair of gym shorts. Cato caught her eye and gave her a cocky nod behind Mr. Crane's back as he spoke. She averted her eyes and prayed to god she could just avoid him that day.

"Just a reminder, I want you to all start using the blue cleaning spray on the mats…someone complained that the other kind was giving people rashes…."

Her attention span drifted as Crane droned on. She had to at least try that day – he'd not been joking when he'd told her she needed to work harder to succeed. Part of the reason she was so pissy was that she knew he was right.

"I know I've told you all to watch the fraternizing with the clients, that should be a no brainer…but please, if you're going to date each other, at least try to keep it out of the workplace. No drama, people," he reminded them, eyeing Finnick. Finnick gave him an innocent look, throwing up his hands while a few of the other guys just snickered. One of the spin instructors had left the locker room screaming about finding someone else's sports bra in Finnick's locker last week.

Drama, she thought.

"Alright, let's have a spectacular day today troops. Kick some ass and take some names, people. Let's help them get fit!"

After he ended the huddle, her boss motioned her over. "Katniss, I'm going to be assigning you some one on one sessions this weekend. I want you to start training clients and offering sessions on your own."

"-But-"

"No 'buts', now just try it. I want you to focus on clients and less on just getting the work done. I hope this helps you relate better to them. I'll be judging you on how well you can help them transform and meet their fitness goals too. It's shape up or ship out for you, Kat."

Her shoulders slumped as he thumped her on the back and headed back to his office. "Son of a bitch," she muttered under her breath. She had no clue how to be a personal trainer and even less of a clue of how to coach someone one on one.

This was going to officially suck.


"I have no idea how to be a personal trainer one on one. I should just quit now," she moaned into her beer that night. She'd managed to avoid Crane and Cato all day, but Gale had caught her on his way out of the locker room at the end of her shift and coaxed her into having a beer with him and Finnick.

"I teach yoga to small groups. I can teach someone how to work on their core. I can't take someone who is hopeless and shape them into some sort of Greek God. That's what people expect when they get a trainer, you know. They expect miracles. Miracles I cannot produce, I don't care how badly I need this stupid job."

Gale rolled his eyes at her and took a long drag of his beer. "You're awfully drama-ey and whiney today. You know, you don't have to turn someone into something they're not. It's about building a relationship with your client and working with them to make themselves feel better. If they show up to your sessions and get healthier, then you've done your job."

"But what if I fail? I can't fail, Gale…I'm about ninety nine percent sure Crane is going to fire me the first time I step one toe out of line…"

"He might. But you gonna just give up?"

"No," she grumbled. "I'm just….not overly eager about taking on a client one on one. I'm…horrible at this. I lack social skills, confidence, knowledge…this is going to be a disaster."

"You're fine, you don't lack social skills. That's all in your head, Catnip."

She shot him a dark look. Gale withered back slightly before taking another gulp of his beer. "Maybe if you wore a paper bag over your head…"

Katniss buried her head in her arms and groaned loudly, earning a few weirded out looks from the bar patrons nearby. Gale shook her shoulder until she looked up.

"Look…all you have to do is give your client some guidance. And you know more about this stuff than you think you do. I mean…they come to the gym to learn about fitness and to get healthier. If you give them some confidence and teach them to do something they might not have been able to physically accomplish before they started then that's a good starting off point. Just figure out their goals and try to help them reach them. It's not rocket science, Catnip."

She took a long sip of her draft and stared down into the amber bubbles. "Maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right," he laughed, taking another sip of his beer. "You just need to relax and try to make this job work. This isn't a bad set up for you. Don't screw it up."

Katniss scowled at him and wrapped her hands around the frosty mug. "You're just saying that because you don't want me to get fired."

"True. It's nice that we can work together and do something physical."

"Some of us more than others," she replied snidely, giving him a pointed look. "Have you been busted yet for dating Johanna? You know we're not supposed to sleep with our coworkers. Not sure how you haven't gotten your ass canned for that."

Gale shrugged. "Jo's hot. She's crazy, but…I like her. She's not clingy, she doesn't care for fancy shit…and she still lets me fuck her when I'm all sweaty without moaning and bitching about how bad I stink. Well…she does some moaning, but…" he chuckled. He held up his hand to prepare himself for the smack that was coming from Katniss.

"Sick," she grumbled, whopping him on the back of the head. "You're like a third grader when you talk about girls."

"You love me."

"We've been friends for so long that I feel like I have to love you. I love you like a mother has to love her annoying little kid. I'd take a bullet for you Gale, but that doesn't mean I have to like you."

"No it does not. But no, she's cool. Crane can tell me not to stick my dick into clients, but he doesn't get to specify when it comes to coworkers. He simply just…eluded to the idea that it was in poor taste to date our coworkers, it isn't forbidden. Clients are the only ones he told us to keep out paws off of."

"Leave it to you to skirt every rule there is and get away with it."

"I do what I can."

"Yeah, well it's still gross, I don't care who you're boinking. You're like a brother to me. A big, annoying, smelly brother."

She finished her beer and slid it towards the center of the table. "I'm going to go home. See if I can whip something up for dinner before Prim gets home from study group."

"Way to be an adult. Don't you wanna to wait for Finnick? He's meeting me up here any second."

"And listen to the two of you ramble on about who you want to bang and what you can deadlift now? Nah," she shrugged, tossing a few crumpled ones onto the table.

"But that's so interesting," he insisted comically flagging the waitress for another beer.

Katniss rolled her eyes. "So much for intriguing conversation. No….I need to go be a parent."

"As long as you're a personal trainer tomorrow," he reminded her.

Katniss slung her purse across her body and sighed. "Don't remind me."


She'd cut out on Gale after just one and a half beers, opting to head home and offer to help Prim study. It wouldn't do her any good to sit in a seedy bar and bitch and moan to her best friend. So, she's left the little pub while it was still light out, the early spring air crisp as she made her way to the historic part of the town where she lived. While most of their good sized town could be labeled up and coming, the older part of it still boasted houses over a hundred years old and even a few remaining cobblestone streets. The trees were old and tall, their thick roots making some of the sidewalks uneven in places as she walked, but the character was what she loved. Her neighborhood was a toss up – half the houses had been bought and completely restored by yuppies, while half remained in a state of slight disrepair and were divided up as apartments. But she didn't mind – the rent was fair and it was within walking distance to the university where Prim attended school. She'd gotten used to plaster walls with sparse insulation and one electrical outlet per room, and it had become home in the years they'd lived there.

The bottom porch step of the huge old house creaked in protest as she made her way up. Someone jumped out from behind one of the old, halfway rotting pillars making her yelp in surprise.

"Effie!" she gasped, "Shit." Her hands unclenched the handle of her gym bag as she exhaled sharply.

"Oh! I'm so sorry dear, I just…I was out here having a cigarette, and-"

"You smoke?" Katniss frowned. "I didn't know you smoked."

She thought she's seen just about everything from her lonely, eccentric neighbor. Well, both of her neighbors could fall into that category, really. The old house she rented was so huge it had been split into three apartments. The upstairs neighbor was Effie, the middle floor was where she and Prim lived, and in the basement lived Haymitch, a functioning alcoholic who worked for the city.

Effie tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ears and awkwardly looked at the un-lit cigarette in her hand.

"Well, no, but….it's nice to get outside every once in a while," she replied, her voice a few octaves too high. Katniss winced at the shrill tone but tried to keep a smile on her face. Effie was a little nosy and too energetic for her taste, but she went to bed early after too much Chardonnay and was pretty quiet upstairs. She worked part time as a cosmetologist in town and Katniss thought she had a little too much time on her hands. She'd recently been hanging around the side of the porch that overlooked the basement door where Haymitch came and went. Katniss wasn't sure if she really wanted to know what was going on there or not.

"Well…that's true. I'm gonna go inside and shower. I might make Sloppy Joes later, you want to come down?" she asked, trying to keep the pity out of her voice.

Effie's face softened as she reached out and gave Katniss a pat on the shoulder.

"You are so kind, dear, but no! Prim showed me how to use Netflix today and there's a fresh box of Franzia waiting for me. We single girls have all the fun, don't we?"

Katniss wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or sincere, so she just laughed softly and nodded.

"Well, if you change your mind…"

She left Effie on the side of the sprawling front porch, the older women peeking over the railing at the basement door. Haymitch was like a raccoon – she only either saw him late at night or early in the morning, looking like he scurrying either somewhere or nowhere. That and he was usually drunk or still drunk when he came home (depending on the time of day) and would run into the trash cans on the side of the house, scaring everyone in the vicinity from a sound sleep. But, he kept to himself and as always around to change the fuses when they blew or fix a leaky faucet.

Effie was another story completely. She'd shown up two years ago with both a fresh divorce and fresh bruises. A bit to take ta first, but Katniss had gotten used to her shrill voice, hot pink manicures and love of any and all boxed wine. She'd come downstairs to their apartment and watch TV with Prim when Katniss worked late and didn't criticize her for being a shitty older sister sometimes. All in all, her home situation wasn't bad.

"Hey," she greeted, dropping her bag on the table by the door. Winding her way to the kitchen, she found her sister perched at the kitchen counter bent over a large book. Her too-old, on it's last leg laptop whirred frantically beside her, causing Prim to lift it up with one hand and fan it with the other.

"Hey! Darn thing…do you know what happened to the fan for this laptop? It keeps overheating and popping off every five seconds."

Katniss' shoulders slumped as she yanked the fridge open, grabbing a carton of ground beef. "It's on the table in the hall, under your jean jacket."

"That meat still okay? You got it from the Piggy Wiggly almost a week ago," Prim wrinkled her nose, sticking her pencil into the messy bun on top of her head.

Katniss sliced the packaging on the ground chuck and sniffed. "Smells fine. It's only a day past the 'use by' date. We can't be picky, Prim."

She heard her sister sigh from her place at the counter. Prim could be an empath at times; she could smell a mood on someone at the drop of a hat.

"Rough day? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

The meat sizzled as it hit the pan. It didn't have the sickening stink of meat that had gone rancid, so Katniss figured they were in the clear. In the years since her mother's death she'd learned how to take twenty bucks and buy enough food to stretch them for an extra six or seven days if she had to. She'd gone to bed hungry, to work hungry, and pretty much everywhere in-between hungry. The part that really bothered her was the fact that hunger never got easier to bear. She should have been used to going without and feeling the pain that came with it, but she'd be lying to herself. It didn't get easier. The gnawing feeling of hunger was one she knew all too well. First was the growling stomach, then the shaky feeling that set in, then the headaches. That would roll into dizzy spells and when she could barely stand it and ate again, finally, her stomach would feel like an empty, cavernous pit that could never be full.

Staying fed was practically an art form.

One she'd failed at, more than once.

She spread the meat out on the sizzling skillet. Over her shoulder, she watched Prim return to her studying and made herself swear that she wouldn't fuck this job up. The path back to being poor and hungry was a slippery slope and she was determined not to fall.


For those of you who aren't classy enough to be familiar with Franzia, it is a lovely variety of boxed wine : )

I think I'm going to try to stick with a Monday update each week. I'll try my best to stick to the schedule, but life happens. Fingers crossed!

Thank you for reading and for your support and personal stories. I love writing this fic! So good to be back. Thank you all!

The Effie/Haymitch storyline came to me at the last minute before I posted this, so I hope you like bits and pieces of their story woven into this one.