Chapter Three: Artless
"Why art?" I remember asking Peeta shortly after I'd first started trading with him.
"What do you mean why art?"
"I mean…no offence…but, isn't it a waste of time, even money?"
Peeta took his time in giving me a response. It was something I always appreciated about him. He never belittled me, and spoke to me with respect. When he answered he was still sort of staring into space.
"You can starve physically, but your soul can starve too. You can survive, but have no reason to live. Art feeds the soul." He pauses and looks over at me. "You know how when you're tired you can sit down and not want to get up again? You can. But you don't. You can give up." Immediately I am brought back to the apple tree where I had sat lost, weak, and weary. I could have gotten up, as I proved when Peeta gave me the bread, but before the hope he gave me, I wouldn't have believed I could at all. I had no defense. "Art gives rise to hope, and validation of pain. It's important, Katniss."
I nodded, content to never bring the topic up again, but after a lull in the conversation I thought was over, Peeta added one final thought. "Your father used to sing all the time. I always loved to draw, but I dare say he taught me the power of it."
I still haven't truly sang since my father died, not to anyone other than Prim. I once stood at the edge of the lake my father brought me, not long after that talk with Peeta, and considered opening my mouth and letting the song that flooded to the back of my teeth pour out, but when I saw the mockingjays, I couldn't do it. I couldn't sing and know they would take up the call and sing it again, and again after me for who knew how long. I knew singing again without my father would crack through some barrier that dammed the grief in me, and if I started, would I stop? And how could I bear the mockingjays carrying my pain onward and onward and onward, magnifying it for all to hear? I am too small for that. Too weak. So I don't sing.
It hadn't stopped someone else from their own brand.
It was In the spring, shortly before my sixteenth birthday, that I first noticed it. Graffiti on buildings depicting the faces of fallen tributes, or supporting the miners, or deriding the excesses of the Capitol. I'd never seen anything like it before. We usually try to forget the Reaping exists during the rest of the year, not like we ever do of course, but we tuck our heads down and move on. I've never seen anyone calling attention to it before, honouring those we've lost. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but Gale loves it, of course.
He thinks it's great to stir people up, take down the Capitol. I want to point out that it's useless if we're all by ourselves, one tiny district, but know from experience he won't listen. He says it would be great if some Townie got reaped so maybe they'd fight alongside us. In truth, I never dreamed he'd get his wish.
I am a mess the 74th games. It is Prim's first time, and even though the odds are most in your favour the first time, somehow it feels like the worst. I jerkily lead her up to the counter where peacekeepers are taking blood for their records, and guide her through the process. I hardly even noticed when they prick my finger. When I tell her I will find her immediately after the ceremony is done, I know I am reassuring her as much as myself. I love Prim like I love myself…more actually.
Colleen is waiting for me in the area for sixteen year olds and she grasps my hand tightly. I know she is as worried for Cole as I am for Prim, but she's been through this a couple of times already. I'm not used to this kind of fear. I squeeze her hand back in solidarity and appreciation. She offers me a tight smile I can't bring myself to return. I stare fruitlessly at the bowl and beg it will not call my name, not Prim's name, or Madge's, or Colleen's, or Cole's, or Gale's, and muse that in spite of my best efforts, I care far too much. I don't want it to be anyone, but I can't stop that, so I must protect my own. There is a tension in the air, as Effie Trinket quickly reads the name more intent on maintaining her tenuous grasp on her wig then appreciating what she's doing.
"Flouer Mellark!"
And a fifteen year old girl from Town is reaped: Peeta's niece.
Colleen and I exchange looks. I can read in her eyes what must be in my own. Was the Reaping punitive? It must be even worse for her, because Mellark is her last name now too. Peeta had adopted them all a few months ago when Jude's Bakery took off. Colleen grabs my hand even tighter, so much so I fear the circulation must be cut off, but I do the same to her. WIll it be Peeta's nephew, or will it be Cole, who is the only other boy Peeta cares about who might be eligible? Or if it is about trading in the Hob, what is it's Gale? My breathing loosens when it's a boy from the Seam, Terrence Carter–but it's still horrifying to see it is a twelve year old boy. Twelve year olds are seldom Reaped, but when they are, they come from the very back of the crowd, a longer walk, a longer torment, as if the Capitol wants to rub it in our faces what they do.
Tears are streaming down Colleen's face now, and the moment we are cleared to leave she runs to find her brother, as I run to find Prim. I clutch her in my arms, breath her scent in, run my fingers through her hair. I need to know she is here, real, in my arms.
"Oh, Katniss," she sobs, "how awful." I can only imagine how this felt to her. I had tried to comfort her, comfort myself, saying her name was only in there once, but so had Terrence's been. Besides, she knows who the Mellark's are and that drives it home too. No one is safe. How can anyone choose to go through this?
"Hush, Little Duck," I say as I pull away and tuck in her shirt again. "How about we bring them some strawberries?"
She nods and wipes her tears with the back of her hands. Mom is here now and she hugs Prim too and squeezes my shoulder with her free hand, a teary-eyed smile on her lips.
Gale is waiting at the edge of the crowd, and I motion to my mother and Prim to go on home first. I give him a hug, the first we've ever shared.
"Congratulations." I whisper, trying to remind myself to also be grateful I'll never have to worry about him being Reaped again.
"Yeah, it's great," he says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Maybe he's thinking about Rory who will be eligible next year. I know I am. "Who'd have thought it'd be someone from Town? Maybe now they'll know what it's like."
"Don't joke like that Gale." I glare at him. He doesn't comment on it.
"So," he puts his hands in his pockets, and rocks back and forth on his heels, "I was wondering if you'd like to celebrate with me?"
"Celebrate?"
"Yeah, everyone who's aged out this year. We're all meeting in the meadow. You want to come?"
There's an urgency in his eyes, and a nervousness in his tone that make me think this must be more important than I realise, but my mind is at the Mellark house, so I don't think too much when I reply.
"Of course, I'll be there. I'll meet you after dinner."
"Great!" His eyes light up, and his smile is wider than I've seen in ages, and I am happy for him, so I try not to let my distractedness show as he walks me home and prattles on inanely. I nod and hum at appropriate intervals, a practice I am well-versed in given my conversational skills are nil at the best of times.
When I knock on the door with the basket of strawberries in my hand, it is Jet who opens the door for me. He motions me in, and I don't comment on the shadows under his eyes. Inside, Sarai is softly sobbing in Colleen's arms; Cole, next to her, has his eyes closed and is leaning on her shoulder. Eliot is stiff as board on the sofa. Jet sits down next to them, and rests the strawberries on the table. No one eats them.
"Is he still at the Justice Building?"
"Yeah," Jet's voice breaks. He clears his throat and tries again. "Jude and his wife's with him. Or were. Family didn't want the Seam there." He sighs and rests his chin on his clasped hands.
I stand there awkwardly until the door bursts open. My heart falls when it is Jude and Maria not Peeta.
"He'll be here in five minutes." Jude explains awkwardly.
"How bad was it?"
"His brother punched him across the jaw."
"Shit." Jet groans.
"Language!" Colleen reprimands him pulling Sarai in closer. He ignores her and goes up to thump Jude on the back in masculine affirmation. Maria announces she's going to make dinner and courteously thanks me for the strawberries. I feel out of place as Jude flops down next to Jet. I'm the only one standing, but this isn't my house, and I doubt it would be polite to sit. Maybe I should go, but I don't feel I can do that until I see Peeta.
He walks in not long after, and already there is the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his left eye. His movements are slowed; his exhaustion is evident.
"Dad," Sarai rushes over to him, and he kneels to the floor to grasp her in a tight hug. He closes his eyes so tightly I think he must be hiding tears. As the others gather around, I slip out the door feeling like a voyeur.
I almost don't remember I agreed to go to Gale's celebration, but halfway through washing the dishes after a silent post-Reaping meal, I head off to the meadow.
Gale is already there. A few people are playing some upbeat songs, and I can tell the Ripper's liquor has already started to be passed around the large crowd of eighteen year olds.
"Catnip!" Gale waves me over, and introduces me to his friends, Thom, Bristel, Jason, and Axel. "You all know who Katniss is, of course." He gestures towards me proudly, but all can think is that of course they know who I am. I know my reputation. The surly, halfie, criminal who can kill you from a distance. Daughter of the the Townie healer, with the sister with the fair features. Other. Alien. Jack Everdeen's daughter.
I am deeply uncertain why Gale wants me here. I am useless with conversation, and I don't know anyone here. Gale and I spend time together in the woods, but we've never done much outside of that. But then I realise maybe that's the point. I won't be able to see Gale terribly much after he enters the mines. He'll only be free on Sundays, so I try to put my best foot forward which I think he appreciates.
I don't know how well I do, there's only so much one can say about the weather, the seasons, and the coal. It's an unwritten rule not to talk about the Reaping, but I still I detect a general sentiment that "at least it's a Townie this time," and "now they'll know what it feels like" which makes me uncomfortable in it's callousness. They're all just children. I dance a few dances, and almost have fun, as much as one can at theses sorts of things where you're never told what you have to do, and what's expected of you, which leaves someone like me hanging awkwardly wondering how many gaffes they make a second. The only comfort I have is that initially, I can follow Gale's lead as he drags me around everywhere to introduce me. Once I exhaust my sparse reserves of small talk I cautiously retreat to a corner while Gale takes swigs out of one of the several bottles of white liquor making its rounds. I wonder how long I'm obliged to stay here before I can go home politely. It has been a taxing day and all I want to do is sleep.
As it gets colder and darker, I wrap my arms around myself and realise I forgot to grab a sweater before heading out. My Reaping dress is thin and short-sleeved. I decide I'm just going to go home when Gale notices my discomfort and slips his jacket around me saying he'll walk me back. Behind him some boys who notice the interaction jeer and wolf-whistle. I'd shoot them a glare, but I am honestly too tired to care. We are just up at my doorstep when Gale grabs my arm.
"Listen, Catnip, we're both older now, and I'll be in the mines soon."
I wearily lift my eyes up to his to hear him out when he grabs my cheeks and pulls my face up to kiss me. I can smell the liquor on him. I am so shocked it takes me a moment to respond. I shove him away with both hands and run inside, trying to ignore the dismayed look on his face. I feel like the ground is rocking under me, and I fall to the ground once I am inside. I wrap my arms around my knees and finally, finally give into my tears. How could he kiss me like that, when he knows how I feel about it, without even asking, and on a day like today when I see what could be all my worst fears realised?
Prim is a sleep, but Momma comes to the front door. She must hear my crying.
"Oh, Katniss," she whispers sympathetically, and wraps her arms around me soothingly rocking me into her chest. It's been years since I've allowed her to hold me like this, not since Dad died, and it turns a key in my chest that makes me sob all the harder. Somehow it feels good. Momma plants a kiss on my head.
I drop Gale's jacket on the Hawthorne's doorsept early the next morning, and go squirrel hunting. Gale, fortunately, is not there. He's probably still hungover. I work quickly, and soon I am at Peeta's with fresh meat.
"It's not to trade." I murmur when he opens the door. He nods me in and says I don't have to do that. I already brought them strawberries. I decide to pretend I didn't hear him since I don't know what to say.
"The kids are still asleep then?"
"Yeah."
"It is still quite early."
"It is."
The stuntedness is more than I can take, so I address the obvious issue.
"You're eye looks bad. Is it true your brother hit you?"
"Yes. It is." He looks away at the kitchen. "Do you want breakfast?"
"Sure." But I know he's trying to change the subject.
"Did your brother think it was punitive?"
"Yeah." His back is to me at the stove so all I can see are clenched muscles and slumped shoulders.
"Do you think it is?"
"I don't know. They could've reaped any of my children if they wanted to do that. Not my nieces. It could just be a coincidence, or maybe they just didn't want to be too obvious. I don't know." He sighs and his hands still. "Either way it doesn't matter. Over this last year, fewer people than ever have had to take tesserae, which means the odds were less in favour of the Merchants than ever. So either way….I suppose you could argue it's my fault."
I frown, uncertain which side to take. "Are you going to stop?"
"No," he shakes his head firmly. It's the strongest gesture he's made since I arrived. "I knew the risks when I started this. More people starve everyday then are reaped every year. The bakery helps with that. I just never expected to have to face the consequences so…soon." He's gripping the edge of the counter so tightly now that I can see his knuckles whiten. I can't help myself. I go up and wrap my arms around him, and he reciprocates. We stand there for a few moments until he extracts himself murmuring a thank you.
"So, how are things for you?" He finally asks, and I grant him the reprieve. There's nothing more to say in any case. Sorry doesn't change a damn thing.
"Gale kissed me." I blurt out. Against my will I scan his face for a reaction. I don't know what I was hoping for, but all I get out of him is raised eyebrows.
"And you didn't like it?"
"No!" I cross my arms. "I've told him time and again I don't want marriage or kids. I told him yesterday morning before he even tried. What's wrong with him?"
Peeta chuckles which contrasts to the stain of grief that remains on his face. I hate him for laughing at my plight.
"He's an eighteen year old boy, Katniss. He's just survived his last Reaping. He's got his whole life ahead of him, and he wants to share it with a remarkable woman. He overstepped his bounds. It's not the end of the world."
"I'm not remarkable." I grumble. Peeta places a hand on my shoulder and turns me to face him directly.
"Yes, you are." I pretend I can't feel myself blush under his stare.
"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you." He reassures me touching my cheek in a friendly manner. "Tell Gale how you feel, and if he's as good a friend as you say he is, then he'll come around, and accept it."
"I just hate all the presumptions!" I hate that I'm whining too, but it is so annoying. "Everyone assumes we're together. I never thought he would just assume too! And now I'm getting older, and the mines are looming, all everyone seems to talk about is boys and marriage."
"I suppose they figure partnership makes it more bearable."
"Not me." I scowl. He laughs lightly.
"Don't worry about it. Look at me!" He says as he flips eggs that have been frying in the pan too long. "I've never married, and I'm doing just fine." I crook my lips at that one.
"You've adopted a bunch of kids and have a terrible reputation."
"True!" He taps my nose with his index finger. "So don't be like me." Then the glint leaves his eyes, and he remembers what happened yesterday. I reach out and grasp his hand. We stay like that a long while as the eggs cool to rubber.
Gale and I don't talk again until the day after the bloodbath. It's clear he's been avoiding me. When we finally meet up again in the woods I rail at him for kissing me and not even having the guts to face me afterward. I hadn't appreciated splitting my haul with a man who wasn't there. He at least has the decency to pretend to look ashamed, but I know he isn't because he says it was just because he had a bit too much to drink, and had originally planned to "ease me into it." Whatever the Hell that means. I'm not known for being fickle.
"I know you don't like the idea, Katniss, but I also know you hate the mines. They might turn a blind eye to you poaching, but only if you're working too. What are you going to say when you turn eighteen? Are you going to go down the mines?"
"I could say I'm a healer like mom!"
He laughs. "Yeah, like that's going to work."
"It might!"
"Never mind. Let's just get on with it."
I hate that he's probably right, but it doesn't matter. I don't like being talked down too like that. It is a very tense hunt.
Flouer Mellark dies in the bloodbath. Peeta leaves the bakery in Town.
Every time I got to trade in Town I can feel the resentment. I can feel the glares at me, even worse than usual for being from the Seam. I can also feel anger towards the Capitol though. It's palpable. The Mellarks, Peeta aside, are a respected family here. Meanwhile, at the Hob, Sae starts up a fund to sponsor Terrence. He is killed by the Careers on the fourth day.
No one knows what to do with the coin. We hadn't had a chance to send it in yet, and Sae hadn't exactly been keeping records of who gave what. It is Jude who suggests they send it to Rue. When we see there isn't quite enough yet to get her something decent, he convinces Peeta to ask for donations in Town. I am deeply sceptical, but Peeta rallies his few friends and so angry are the people in Town at the Careers and the Capitol, they donate, and we send Rue some bread. When she receives the bread that is obviously not from her District and thanks us, and everyone in the crowd cheers. I notice the Peacekeepers grip their weapons tighter. I notice Gale is grinning.
We all root for Rue to win, and she lasts longer than I think any twelve year old has before, but she dies when the Careers smoke her out of the tree she hides in. Her death is cruel, painful, sadistic, and brutal. Everyone looks traumatised for weeks. Mockingjays with Rue's face are found in alleyways making everyone stew. I don't know if it's one artists or several that grafiti the District, but they stir us up. Our only consolation is that for once someone from an outlying District wins, someone we actually like: Thresh. If you can call it a consolation when it is a rallying point. There is a curling in my stomach that tells me I need to ask Peeta a few pointed questions, but I decide it's better not to know.