They're doing it again. Staring at me. It drives me crazy when they do this. Don't they have better things to do? Like hunt? Or run the bakery? Or… just anything? But they keep staring.
Father always gets this look that's half sappy and half over-protective. Mother has this wistful look on her face.
All because a boy asked me to the school dance. I haven't even decided if I want to go to the stupid thing, but Father automatically said no, and Mother said yes. So now I'm stuck in the middle.
"Peeta, let the girl go and have some fun. We never got to do any of this when we were her age." Mother coaxes him, holding his hands and looking into his eyes.
"I know, but don't you think she's still too young?" Father fires back.
"Father! I am 16 years old!" I say defensively.
"I know." he looks at me. "And I also know what 16 year old boys are like. I was one once, you know." he says pointing a finger at me while mother tries her hardest to get him to put it down.
"Yeah, when you were 16 you were afraid to talk to mother!"
"But I know what I thought about!"
Our voices keep getting louder and louder.
"Really Peeta? What did you think about?" Mother teasingly asks father, trying to diffuse the situation.
"I'll tell you later. But not in front of the children."
"Woah! Wait! We don't need to hear any of this!" My little brother chimes in from the other room. He's been avoiding the whole situation, preferring to not think about our parents and what they may or may not be doing.
"Plus, we're discussing me going to the dance with Rojer." I say, trying to bring the conversation back around to the original topic.
Ever since Wren left those books here, I've avoided thinking about my parents as anything but that. As parents. Not star crossed teenage lovers, ew.
Mother looks at me wistfully again. She and father never had these chances that I have, that my brother has. When they were 16 they were both in The Hunger Games. I know what happened, because we studied them in school. But it's so hard to think of Mother and Father fighting and killing. That is so far away from the peaceful people I know. They never even spanked or hit my brother and I growing up.
Then I think about when they were 17 and mother was The Mockingjay while Father was being tortured. And as I think on these things it hits me. Like it's never hit me before. That's why mother looks at me like she does. Because we're doing the things she only dreamed we'd do. She never really knew if it would happen.
"Peeta. Leave her alone. Let her go. I've met Rojer. He's a nice boy from a good family. They're an old Seam family, they lived a street over from me growing up." she says, running her hand up and down father's arm, soothing him.
"Well. I guess a dance isn't the end of the world." he answers, almost defeated.
Mother puts her hands on father's face, forcing him to look at her and only her. "Peeta, I want you to think back to the Quell. Remember when we were in that arena? When we kissed?"
"Uh, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't take that memory from me!'
"I had a dream Peeta, after that. I dreamt of your children, running free in the meadow. No worries. No cares. Peeta, that dream is one of the few that's actually come true. It's not just this dance, it's everything. The dance, the meadow, the forest, hunting, baking. We've given our kids a chance, a better future. Let's let them take it without interfering."
And just like that, I understand. I understand the games she plays in her head to stay present, the lists she makes about good things. I understand why Father fights so hard to come back from an episode, and tries so hard to not scare us.
Because we're their chance to do it over again. To have it the way it always should have been. Not just for them, but for Father's brothers, and Auntie Prim. For my grandparents and great grandparents. For everyone who had to live under the threat of The Capitol and The Hunger Games.
It's our time now. It's our chance to get it right.
They're staring again. Rojer just knocked on the door and Father is trying so hard to remain calm. And mother is looking at me like she doesn't recognize me. "You're so pretty, my dancing girl. I am so proud of you." She hasn't called me her dancing girl in years. Smiling, I try hard to hold back the tear that threatens to fall.
And just like that, my brother opens the door to let Rojer in.
He stands there a little awkwardly, as he hands me a flower that goes on my wrist. He tells me I look nice, and I see sweat forming on his brow. I decide to take a little pity on him. I know Rojer well enough to know that he is wondering how to get past my Father without raising any suspicions. So I take his hand, smile up at him, and lead Rojer out the door. But not before I can look back and blow them both a kiss to thank them. Thank them for my time. For now. For a future that is present.