After watching the recap we sit down for dinner. Peeta is getting me to eat every other hour, and I'm already sick of it. If the Capitol's food was good I think I could manage, but it is surprisingly bland. "Something wrong with your food dear?" Effie picks up on my lack of appetite.
"It's just that the Capitol's food is different, from home," I just don't get it, they look so delicious on tv but, here in front of me this beautiful plate of food tastes as good as a piece of paper.
"That's because it's drenched in chemicals," Haymitch says, and I lose the rest of my appetite.
"It's not drenched!" Effie retorts, "They just add something to make the food last longer." She picks up a flawless strawberry and holds it up, "This strawberry would never make back and forth between half Panem without Capitol's technology." I look at the cut on my hand it's completely healed, there isn't even a mark. My mother could've saved countless lives with this medicine, but those things never reach 12. We are only meant to serve, with our coal, and with our children.
"It must be nice to have access to that technology," I blurt out. I'm getting mad at Effie, and I don't even know why. Is not like she created the Hunger Games, or took Prim's name on purpose. I'm just angry at this whole situation.
"So you two are lovers," Haymitch's blunt statement startles me.
"We were planning on getting married, " Peeta says, and holds my hand under the table, "After our last reaping."
Haymitch looks at us, his jaw clenched tight, analyzing. "Listen, the Hunger Games isn't a sports competition. Your physical attributes will help you, sure, but on the bottom line, it's your story that will get you out of the arena alive," he says.
"You're talking about the 'star-crossed lovers' thing?" Caesar Flickerman called us that several times on the recap and people seemed to love that.
"Yes, both of you are the talk in the Capitol. There is even a bidding war starting over the rights to your story, for books, movies, and tv shows. In a way both of you are already victors, really," Effie giggles at us.
"Yeah. The only thing left is to kill 23 people," Peeta's hand closes tighter on mine, I know I shouldn't say it, but I don't regret it.
"This is actually a good thing. People like to live vicariously through the lives of the tributes. You showed them the story of two tragic young lovers from an outline district, and they ate that shit up," Haymitch leans in his chair, his hands are shaking, but he tries to disguise it by holding a cup of coffee, "So how did you two met?"
We'll never tell the actual story to anyone. Peeta and I are embarrassed by it; although, for different reasons. Peeta tells Haymitch the short version, the one I told my own family years ago, "We were eleven. Katniss was at the bakery when a storm started. She couldn't make her way back home, so I invited her to stay in and have dinner with my family. We became friends after that." Haymitch looks unimpressed, as anyone would. The real story has a lot more to it.
There really was a storm, but I wasn't at the bakery buying bread. I was in the backyard looking through the garbage cans for something to eat. After my father died my mother had a mental breakdown, so Prim and I were left to fend for ourselves. The Capitol gave us some compensation money for his death, which we rationed all through winter but eventually, we ran out of it, and soon after, we ran out of food. We still had a month before spring, where I could sign up for tesserae and get us grain if we could only survive it.
I was in the market trying to sell some of Prim's baby clothes when the rain started. People started to leave but I was determined to get back home with food, I couldn't bear to look at Prim's hollow hungry eyes. I was desperate, the garbage cans behind the stores were my last hope, but they were empty. My clothes were drenched, and I could feel the cold on my bones. At that moment I lost all hope. Maybe it's for the best, I thought, then I'll be with dad. I lean in against a tree and wait for death, but Peeta found me instead.
He carried me inside the bakery and lay me down by the oven. "Here," he hands me a bowl of broth. In any other circumstance, I've said no, but my hunger didn't care about my pride. Every spoon of broth felt like life coming back inside of me. When it was over, I handed the bowl back to Peeta, who just gathered Prim's clothes in a bag.
"Thank you," I said. "I should go. I don't want to give you any more problems." I make a motion to get up, but Peeta holds my hand.
"You won't give me any problems Katniss. Please stay, at least until the rain passes." The storm wasn't that bad anymore. I could go home if I wanted to, in fact, I probably should go, but I didn't. At that moment, the only thing I want to do is stay with him.
We stay sitting by the oven listening to the rain and the crackling from the wood burning. "Where are your parents?" I ask, noticing that the place is completely silent.
"My brother Rye fell off the roof, so they took him to the apothecary." Peeta tries to contain a smile. That's a weird reaction. If my sister got hurt, I would worry sick for her. Peeta seems to notice my confusion and jumps to explain, "It's just that he spent weeks saying that he could do a backflip from the roof, and my brother Gram and I said he would break his neck. He didn't, he twisted his ankle, but he did do a backflip." Peeta laughs, and I catch myself laughing too. Since my father's death, that was the first time I felt happy.
Mrs. Mellark's voice startles us, "You go back to that hell hole you came from, right now!" Peeta jumps off the floor and stands between her and me. That seems to make her angrier. She punches Peeta in his face, knocking him on the floor. I bolt for the door, not before I take some hits from her as well. When I reached the Steam, my adrenaline wears off enough to notice how heavy the bag was. Far too heavy to have just Prim's old clothes. As soon as I get home, I open the bag, and it's full of food, milk, eggs, and bread. Two loaves of hearty bread, filled with raisins and nuts. I thought there must be a mistake. That during the fight, I got the wrong bag, but under the food, I found Prim's clothes.
The next day felt like spring came overnight. Instead of rain, the Sun shined bright and warm. Holding hands, Prim and I make our way to school with our stomachs full for the first time in months. I look out for Peeta, to say thanks, but he wasn't at school that day. I only found him after, in the schoolyard. He sat alone under a tree, drawing on a notebook. Not only his cheek had swelled up, and his eye had blackened, his whole arms were covered in bruises. "Hey," Peeta says with a faint smile.
I had a million things to say to him, to thank him for his kindness, to say that I was sorry for what happened, but I can only manage to ask, "Can I sit with you?"
Peeta moves to the side making room for me. We sit side by side in silence, watching the clouds. "She doesn't do it very often," he says teary-eyed, "she just loses control sometimes." All this time I thought merchant kids had an easy life, going to bed with their bellies full, without fear of starvation. But at that moment I learned that life has several ways to chip off pieces of you, to kill the happiness inside of us if we let it. I take Peeta's hand and intertwine our fingers together.
"Thank you," I say, locking my eyes on his, and I notice for the first time how blue they are, and, even with the bruising, they are beautiful.
Peeta drops his gaze, his face turning red. "I just had to do it," he says, looking at our hands.
"Why?" I ask, suddenly curious, we had some classes together, but Peeta and I never spoke before yesterday, I didn't even though he knew my name.
"Because you used to sing," he says, "You used to sing every day after class, while you're going home with your sister, and all the mockingjays stopped to listen." I never imagined someone was paying attention to that. "Can you sing again?" Peeta's voice is small and full of embarrassment.
I never sing for anyone outside my family, but Peeta didn't feel like just a boy from my class anymore. He became special to me in a way that I wouldn't completely understand until we kissed for the first time later that year. I gently place his head on my lap and sing one of the songs my father used to sing for my mother. We stay this way for a while, Peeta, with his eyes closed, and a bright smile on his face and me caressing his blond hair. That's when I saw it, all the way across the schoolyard, the first dandelion of the spring. "What are you thinking about?" Peeta asks.
"Hope," I answer, "I'm thinking about hope."
"So, that's it?" Haymitch couldn't look less interested in the story.
"We were eleven, what else do you want?" Peeta retorts.
"Something a little more marketable. Don't get me wrong, your story is cute, but it needs more flair," he says, while Effie nods in agreement. "The star-crossed lovers' thing is new, right now you two have the media's attention, and that could work well for you, but you need to play for all it is worth."
"And how do you expect us to do that?" I say, afraid of what Haymitch has in mind.
"Tomorrow morning we'll reach the Capitol, and you'll meet your stylists. As soon as you step off this train you need to show the country that both of you are absolutely, madly, ready to end it all, in love with each other." I'm not comfortable with this, at all. Haymitch seems to pick up on my anger. "Do you think you can manage to do that, sweetheart?" I hate the condescending way he calls me sweetheart, but he is right. If I want to come back home alive I have to do what Haymitch says, but that also means that Peeta will have to die. What kind of life would be left for me without him?
I'm about to lock myself in my bedroom when Peeta stops the door. He's holding sleeping clothes and a toothbrush. "And who said I wanted to sleep with you?" I meant to sound serious, but my smile betrays me.
"I don't need to, I know you." He closes the door behind him and holds me in his arms. We stay like this for a while.
"I'm still mad at you for volunteering," and that's partially true, but I'm also glad he is here, that I don't have to face any of this alone.
"You would've done the same thing for me and you know it. You love me Mockingjay, just as much as I love you," he says, and it hurts me to accept that I wouldn't have done it. If I did, I wouldn't be dooming just myself, but Prim too. As much as I love him, I couldn't sacrifice Prim's life to be with Peeta. I never thought I would have to face such confusing decisions. I wish I could be back on 12. To be alone in the forest, where I could think and make sense of this madness. But chances are, neither of us is coming back to 12 alive.
"Come on, let's go to bed," I finally say, pushing those thoughts away.
"You know, I don't think we ever done this," Peeta says, changing his clothes. He's right, we had sex several times before, but we never had the opportunity to spend the night on the same bed. Since we share our rooms with our siblings and both of our parents would kill us.
"You like to sleep with the windows open?" I'm surprised, the air temperature drops a few degrees, but not as much as I would expect.
"Yeah, it just gets too stuffy in here. I hope you don't mind," he says.
"I don't. It gives me a reason to cuddle up with you."
We lay on the bed together, Peeta notices the pin Madge gave me on the nightstand. "When did get this?"
"This morning, I trade it with Madge for some strawberries." That feels like it happened a lifetime ago. I wonder how they are doing back on 12. If my mother is holding Prim while she cries, or if she's back in the chair by the stove, where she sat for months when my father died.
"It's a blue jay?" Peeta's voice brings my mind back to reality. It takes me a second to realize he's talking about the pin.
"No, it's a mockingjay. The beak is longer, see?" I say pointing it.
"It really suits you," he pulls me closer, whispering on my ear so the Capitol bugs in our room can't pick it up. "Got a song for me, Mockingjay?"
I smile and whisper back, "Always."
A/N: So what do you guys think about the twist on Katniss and Peeta's backstory? I think that if Peeta had a chance, he would have done this for her. And I also want to thank you guys for the reviews. They're helping me a lot to be more mindful when I'm writing the chapters and encouraging me to write faster. That is exactly what I need it.
The next chapter will be out next Saturday, and we'll finally get to the Capitol!