The first three or so weeks of Peeta running the bakery are filled with a sort of hectic, crazy happiness that I'm not sure if I've ever experienced before. Forces of chaos and disarray have always been signs of terror, instability, and fear in my life before. It's a strange but nice feeling to see joy and humor in Peeta's flustering about trying to take care of everything in the bakery, especially considering how obviously happy he is doing it. He needs to hire someone to help him, the job is objectively too much for one person to handle alone. He's managed remarkably well considering that he's doing the work by himself that his entire family once did together, but I want him to get someone to help just so the business never crosses into burnout.
I help him out sometimes, but I'm pretty useless; I can't bake, and I'm nowhere near as good at the amicable front of shop operations as Peeta is. I've been pretty busy working on the medicine factory planning, which is very close to coming to fruition. The structure is complete and Thom tells me that he's already received more than enough applications from people eager to find work in a new industry. It's deeply exciting to feel like a new life and identity is almost here for the people of 12. Everyone who returned here, or who moved here for a fresh start after the war, has put up with so much in an effort to make this district their home. Virtually every other district was left more intact than 12, there would have been so many easier places for people to settle after the war. Everyone who is here wanted to make this place a home, no matter how hard that would be. I have immense respect for every single one of them, and I'm incredibly eager to see things come together for all of us.
One cold morning, I head to the site of the new factory for a planning meeting. The air is cool and the wind on my face makes my cheeks pink, but it's invigorating in its own way. There's something right about the way the world feels when the air is cold and the leaves are brown and gold. I make my way to the new factory building, which is on the edge of town in a similar spot to where the entrances to the coal mines used to be. The building looks nice considering its industrial purpose; it's smaller and less utilitarian than the factory buildings I've seen in 8. I head inside and see that the building gets good natural light, that the work stations seem clean and comfortable. This really could be a place where people actually want to work, and can do work that they're proud of.
I say hi to Thom, Leevy, Bristol, Alon, Raphael, and all the other members of the team that I've gotten to know over these past few months of work. I think that the more I heal and recover, the more I'm able to tolerate socializing with people outside of my small core group. I still get tired from too much interaction, and I don't enjoy being outgoing nearly as much as someone like Peeta or Delly, but I've been able to find an intermediate that I'm comfortable with that falls somewhere in between completely isolating myself and being forced to perform for cameras all the time. I think it's a sign of progress for me.
"Hi everyone," Thom says once the whole group has arrived, starting the meeting. "I'm really glad to see you all here today, and to be so close to getting started with work here in our new factory. As you all can see, thanks to our wonderful rebuilding team, we've already finished creating the physical space for our new industry, and between our dedicated outreach workers and the motivation of the people of 12, we even have a full employment roster. Between this progress and the knowledge of 12's plant life that Katniss has shared with all of us, I think we're ready to start work up really soon, maybe within a couple of weeks." The group looks pleased at this, with various people nodding or clapping along.
"As some of you might know, we want to reinstate the Harvest Festival tradition here in 12, and are planning on hosting this year's festival sometime in mid-November," Thom says, continuing. "I think, if you all agree, that it might be nice to do a ribbon cutting and official opening of the factory on the day of the festival, as a way to symbolize unity and healing in our district. We can have a small ceremony as part of the festival, and people can walk through on tours to take a look around if they want. What do you all think about that?"
The reaction throughout the group is very positive, and I'm in agreement. I think it's genuinely a good idea. I hadn't thought much about the Harvest Festival, but I think I like the idea of bringing it back. It was always a strange sort of mixed day in our old lives; on most years, it would correspond loosely with the start of the Victory Tour, and whatever tribute had won the Games that year would take part in the festivities. It would have been nothing compared to what they would experience in other districts, but it was what we could do, and the Capitol wanted us to do something. The mandate and the reminder of loss and of the Games made it unpleasant, but there was also an undeniable boost to the district from it; usually merchants would set up small stands around the town square and sell their goods, and from what Peeta tells me that was often the best day of the year for places like the bakery. There would be music and dancing too, some songs which were our own subtle form of rebellion for years before we ever knew rebellion was possible. It was a mixed day. I'm glad for the opportunity to make it an entirely positive one, and I think incorporating the factory opening can only help.
We spend a couple of hours planning the logistics of the opening, and then split into planning teams in which one group works on employment issues and I work with others on the plant catalog we are building for the factory. It's a good day. I really like the feeling of productivity I get from these sorts of things.
When we finish up around lunch time, I decide to head over to the bakery to tell Peeta about the festival and the factory opening. The wind has picked up and I'm quite cold, fastening my father's hunting jacket over my sweater to try and keep in my body heat. When I open the door to the bakery, I give out a sigh of relief as the warm, sweet smelling air envelopes me. Peeta's eyes light up when he sees me. He's behind the counter, talking engagedly to a boy who looks maybe a few years younger than us.
"Hi," I say, slipping behind the counter to give him a kiss on the cheek. He returns it and places his arm around my shoulders.
"Hi love," he says. I'm not entirely sure when that pet name creeped into his vocabulary, but he's taken to using it a lot and I don't hate it nearly as much as I feel like I should. "How's your day been?"
"Good, good. I don't mean to interrupt, though," I say, looking at the boy he was in conversation with.
"Oh no worries!" says the boy cheerfully. "I've been talking Peeta's ear off, I'm sure it's good for his health if he has a break." Peeta laughs at this, and the boy wanders off a little to look at a cake in one of the window displays.
"His name is Albie," Peeta says, gesturing towards the boy. "He's been coming here a lot to try different things and talk to me about baking. It's been really fun." I smile at that. It's been a long time since Peeta's had someone to talk to who shares this passion with him. I'm glad he's found that.
"Hi Albie, I'm Katniss," I say, calling to Albie, who seems utterly transfixed by the cake he's been looking at. He turns around at his name, though, and he looks very excited.
"Oh I know who you are!" he says, and then looks a little embarrassed by this comment. "It's, uh, it's great to meet you," he fumbles.
"Nice to meet you too," I say. "Where are you from?"
"I'm from 7, originally," he says. "My mom and I moved here after the war ended. We decided we wanted to go somewhere new, and my mom had heard that the forests out here were beautiful. She was right, I love exploring the woods around here." I smile at him.
"I agree with you, I'm partial to the woods too," I say.
"You should see her in the woods sometime, Albie," Peeta says. "She can climb trees faster than I can think, and she knows all sorts of stuff about plant life." I roll my eyes at him.
"You make me sound like some sort of expert, when in reality I just happened to grow up with parents who knew about this stuff," I say. "Trust me, Albie, I'm sure if you take the plant identification and pharmacology classes at school, you'll end up knowing much more than I do." Albie laughs a little at this. "What year in school are you?" I ask him. He shrugs his shoulders.
"Well, I suppose I would be in maybe the second to last year, but I'm not fully sure," he says. I look at him with a confused expression, and he continues. "Only a small portion of the population in 7 actually went to school past reaching reaping age. They wanted us all out working in the forests. Younger kids were useful for climbing up trees, and they wanted the labor. So, I know I could be in school here, but honestly I'd have no idea what I was doing." Peeta looks saddened by this.
"I don't think I realized that some districts didn't allow schooling," Peeta says. "It's just, I sometimes forget how even if you escaped the reaping, you still suffered so much in the way we used to live. You should have gotten to go to school." I'm thinking sort of along the same lines as Peeta; I never particularly loved school, I was always too preoccupied with keeping Prim and I alive, but I think I would have been livid if I didn't even have the option. Especially for Prim, even more than me. She genuinely liked school, and was a good and dedicated student. She deserved more opportunities for education, and I never fully understood that we were still better off than some in this regard. Albie, however, seems cheerful and unbothered. I guess having grown up with this expectation as completely normal, it just doesn't seem like that big of a deal.
"Yeah, I guess," Albie says, smiling and shrugging again. "I know I could take classes now, but it just doesn't feel like something I'd do. I think I'd rather learn how to do something I like" I look between Albie and Peeta, and almost laugh at how the entirely obvious opportunity here doesn't seem to dawn on either of the two boys. Peeta needs help in the bakery, Albie doesn't like school but loves baking and wants to work in something he's passionate about. I'll have to try to get it through Peeta's head later.
"I should head back home, my mom will probably be wondering where I've gone," Albie says. "Always great to talk to you, Peeta, and nice to meet you Katniss!" Albie bounces cheerfully out the door. I smirk at Peeta.
"What?" he asks.
"It's remarkable that for someone who's so good at reading people, sometimes your skills just seem to fail," I say. Peeta still looks confused. "He should work here! It's obvious. He wants to train in something outside of school, and he seems utterly obsessed with what you do here, and you could use the help. It just seems perfect." Peeta considers the idea, looking both excited and a little uncomfortable.
"It's not a bad idea," he says. "It's just, I don't know...he's a good kid. He's come here a lot over the past week or two and I've gotten to know him. He lost his dad and his older brother in the fighting in 7, so I guess we've had a lot to talk about. I think it'd be great to work with him, but he should go to school. I don't want him to lose out on any opportunities to learn or enrich his life to help me." I try to avoid rolling my eyes. Here again, Peeta's deep and utter goodness is blinding him. It's impractical, but it's sweet.
"I get that," I say, deciding not to push him right now. "Just think it over."
"I will," he says. "How was your meeting this morning?"
"Oh! Yeah, it was good. I wanted to tell you about it, actually," I say, before telling him all about the opening and the Harvest Festival. He seems as excited about it as I am.
"It's a great idea," he says. "Maybe I'll set up a bakery stand like we used to, and give out free samples or something." We chat for a while longer about what we might do at the festival, and I find myself feeling incredibly grateful for what we've created here. From the most macro level to the most micro level I am thankful; I am proud of what we have accomplished as a nation, as a district, and as individuals.
Peeta decides to close up the bakery a little early today, and we walk back to Victor's Village just as the afternoon is starting to turn to evening. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and I snuggle as close to him as I can while walking, trying to keep warm.
"The fall was always my favorite time of year," Peeta says, looking around us at the beautiful golden foliage that is rustling in the wind. "I just love the colors on the trees, and the fact that it's not too cold but not too hot. I don't know, it sounds kind of stupid, but I just think thee world looks more beautiful draped in all of these colors." I smile at him and lean up to kiss him on his cheek, which is cool and pink from the wind. It doesn't sound stupid to me at all. I think from most people, this sort of cheesy romanticism would just make me annoyed; I'd laugh and roll my eyes. I certainly know that the older version of myself would have found it irritating. Now, though, and from Peeta, I appreciate it. He helps me appreciate the world more thoroughly.
As we reach Victor's Village, we are about to head inside when we hear a loud sound coming from Haymitch's house. It sort of sounds like he's dragging something heavy along the floor.
"I can't, this has been going on for too long," I say, finally at a breaking point. "I need to find out what he's doing." Peeta nods in agreement. "Follow me?" I ask, and he takes my hand.
I lead him through the gap between our home and Haymitch's and into the backyard. I know that if we try to go in the front Haymitch will do everything in his power to stop us, so our best bet is to try to get in through the back door. I peek through the glass pane in the door, and all I can really see is the kitchen and part of the hallway, but I don't see Haymitch, which is what I need. I hold my finger up to my lips to indicate to Peeta that we should be as quiet as possible, and then I slide the door open and slip inside. Peeta follows me soon after, doing a fairly decent job keeping quiet considering his signature heavy tread and the uneven steps forced by his prosthetic.
Focussing on keeping quiet, it takes me a second to fully register the first sign of strangeness in our surroundings. The kitchen is clean. Not just the sort of halfway clean I've helped Haymitch get it to before, but actually clean. The counters are shiny and free of their usual stacks of dirty plates. Most things seem to be in their proper place, with the exception of just one plate and one glass that are sitting in the sink waiting to be washed. I can only assume that Haymitch used these for lunch, and only letting one meal's worth of dishes accumulate is an incredible accomplishment for him. I look to Peeta, and see a shocked and confused expression on his face, that I'm sure is reflected on mine as well. This is new for both of us.
As I start to tiptoe softly across the kitchen, I notice that the cleanliness and organization is consistent throughout the house. All of his furniture is clean, tidy, and in its proper place. This is not normal. I pick up on the sound of Haymitch's footsteps heading down the stairs before Peeta does, and quickly grab his hand and shove both him and myself into a closet next to the study that'll keep us hidden while still within earshot of the kitchen. Peeta lets out a small laugh, and I cover his mouth with my hand.
"Sorry," he whispers, smiling a bit against my hand. "It's just, don't you think we're being a little excessive? It's Haymitch's house, not an Arena." I roll my eyes at him.
"He's been keeping whatever he's doing from us, and I want to know what it is," I whisper back, bitingly. "He won't tell us so we have to try to find out without him noticing."
"Ok, ok, I'll stay quiet" Peeta whispers, and I drop my hand. I hear Haymitch walking through the kitchen, muttering to himself a little. His form becomes visible through the slats in the closet door as he comes closer to us and I realize he's heading for the phone on the wall. Peeta and I both press our faces up to the slats in the door to try to get the clearest view we can. Haymitch is holding the receiver in his hand, not having dialed anything as far as I can tell. He's still mumbling, but it's too quiet to pick up what he's saying. It seems almost as if he's trying to psych himself up. He lets out a long breath before moving to press numbers into the phone and bringing it up to his ear.
"Hello?" he says, finally at a volume that we can hear. "Yeah, hi. Yeah, I know. It's been a while." His voice has its classic tone of irritation and boredom, but I can tell by the way he's tapping his fingers against his leg that he's nervous. He's quiet for a minute or so before he speaks again, seemingly interrupting whoever is talking on the other side. "Listen, princess, I know you have a lot to say, but let me try to do the talking for once, ok?" Peeta's and my heads jerk towards each other almost in unison, and we make eye contact as the exact same realization has hit us. "Princess". Effie.
"Alright," Haymitch says, taking another deep breath before continuing. "I just wanted to tell you...that I get it. I didn't get it at first, I thought you were being completely ridiculous and overreacting, but I understand now how I upset you. I won't lie to you, princess, the idea that you'd be mad at me for not caring enough to listen to the things you'd recommend for my house, or for getting annoyed when you kept going on and on about how I needed to clean it, didn't make one goddamn ounce of sense to me when you first said it. But I see it now. You didn't want me living in the hovel I've built myself into for years and years, because then you couldn't join me. I mean - obviously you weren't thinking about moving here, I don't mean that. But just...I wasn't making any effort to make my life something that would be good for you. I didn't make my home a place you'd be comfortable staying, and I wasn't fixing my habits and myself to make it so I could be there for you in the way that you needed. I, I just wanted to tell you that...that I'm sorry."
I feel myself gaping at his words. I think I could count on one hand the number of times I've heard Haymitch genuinely apologize, especially of his own volition and especially in regards to someone's feelings. He's quiet for a bit before he starts speaking again.
"I wanted to tell you that I understand, and that I've tried to listen. My house, my life, it might never be up to your standards, and I accept that, but I'm trying. I've cleaned everything, and I've fixed up my furniture, and made my house a place that you can feel comfortable coming to visit. I'm trying to do the same thing with myself too. I can't promise you that it'll be a smooth process, in fact I have no doubt at all that I will fuck up monumentally more often than not. But I'm trying, princess. I'm trying."
He falls silent again and I know Effie must be responding, because he's nervous. The tapping of his fingers on his leg grows even faster and he keeps shifting his weight between his feet. As the silence grows longer, I find myself getting nervous for him. I have no way of knowing what Effie's saying, we aren't close enough to hear her through the receiver. I hope it's good. This is such a step for Haymitch, and even though I'm sure he will make mistakes, I hope she realizes what it means that he even got here in the first place.
"C'mon, Effie," I hear Peeta mutter next to me, and I try to stifle a laugh, knowing Peeta and my thoughts are in the exact same place right now. I smile at him and take his hand, both of us waiting eagerly and anxiously to hear how Haymitch responds to Effie's words. My mind is reeling with all of the different ways this could go. She could be thrilled, she could be disappointed, he could be happy, he could get angry. There are way too many different possible responses for me to know what to expect. His response is better, though, than I could have ever imagined. After several minutes of silence, he laughs into the receiver.
"Thanks, princess," he says. "I...I love you too." Peeta and I both break into a silent cheer in the closet. Peeta lifts his hands up into the air in victory, and I bring mine to my chest in relief. We both laugh at the expressions of exuberance on each other's faces. It's only when I process that Haymitch has stopped talking that I realize we've been too loud.
"I think I gotta go, princess," he says. "Something tells me I'm about to have to try to imitate your abilities at chastising inappropriate behavior. I'll talk to you soon." He hangs up the phone and starts walking over to our closet, and I know we've been found out. Peeta and I are trying to keep as still and quiet as possible, as if this will somehow get him to forget what he's heard, but it's honestly kind of hard to keep from laughing.
"You two goddamn kids really can't keep to yourself, can you?" Haymitch says from outside the closet, and I break down laughing. Peeta follows me soon after, and Haymitch opens the door to find the two of us almost doubled over in hysterics. He rolls his eyes at us.
"I will apparently never cease to be amazed with how fucking weird you two can be," he mutters, which only makes me laugh more. "What was your escape plan by the way, just wait for me to pass out before crawling out of this closet?" Again I can't answer him, because only more laughter comes out.
"Sorry, Haymitch," Peeta says, recovering more quickly than me. "We just had to know what you've been up to these past few weeks. And we are so happy for you and Effie!" Haymitch tries to roll his eyes again and brush off the compliment, but he doesn't really succeed. The corner of his mouth is creeping up into a smile without his volition.
"Whatever, kid," he says. "Doesn't mean I forgive you for breaking into my house."
"Oh, that's rich coming from Mr. 'None of Us Ever Knock'," I say, referencing the deeply unfortunate morning after Peeta and I made up from our fight when Haymitch walked in on us naked and on top of each other. "You have committed much more severe invasions of privacy than we have, we're only beginning to chip away at that deficit." Peeta laughs and Haymitch rolls his eyes, successfully this time. We head out of the closet and Peeta cooks a celebratory dinner at Haymitch's for all of us to share. The night is filled with eating, teasing, shaming each other, and uproarious laughter. Haymitch tries to keep up the pretense that he's mad at us, but he fails miserably. He's happier than I've ever seen him before. For once he's living a life not just full of loss and pain. He's living something good, something that he actually wants to live.