The next morning, Haymitch finds me at Peeta's after coming up empty handed at my house. At some point during the night we transitioned to the couch. We sleep - me laying on my back, Peeta nestled between my legs with his head resting on my chest. My hands rest on his head. I wake when I hear the front door, but Peeta is dead to the world. He's exhausted and could be like this for hours.
"Morning," Haymitch greets me with a mug of coffee in his hand. He doesn't look great. His hair is disheveled, he's in last night's clothes... I realize my guardian is hungover.
"Haymitch, you didn't…"
"Johanna had this green liquor from the Capitol. I only had a couple. I guess my tolerance isn't what it used to be."
"Haymitch, green liquor is illegal! You know that! It makes you see things!" I'm whispering furiously.
"You don't have to tell me that," he groans as he rubs his head.
"You are going to land me with a new guardian if you keep this up! They won't trust you with me." Peeta stirs, and I gently rub his back. He squeezes his arms around my waist and settles.
"I thought you two weren't talking." Haymitch gestures sloppily toward me and the sleeping boy.
"We're not."
"You're right. That doesn't count as talking." He rolls his eyes at me. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, magazine… doesn't look like you're moving anytime soon."
"Not unless you can go to the bathroom for me." I tease.
Haymitch smirks at me. "Dinner?"
"Dinner."
He leaves and we lie there for a while. I doze in and out, but eventually I'm awake. I reach for a catalog from Peeta's coffee table. He has circled different baking items - flour, sugar, butter by the pound. I find the pages with horticultural products interesting. I've always scouted for greens and herbs in the meadow or woods, but maybe I should start a garden. Our peaceful morning is interrupted when the phone rings too brightly. Peeta comes to and stretches to get up.
"Don't," I say as I wrap my arms around him, keeping him from the phone. He looks a little confused.
"Katniss, why are you here?" I can see the revelation of last night hit him like a ton of bricks. He is instantly on his feet, but his face scrunches in pain.
"What? What is it?" I am on my feet now too, feeling guilty. I didn't realize he was hurt.
"It's nothing… It's just my leg." I realize he never took it off last night, and I was too distracted to do it for him. He limps to the chair and drops down.
"Let me help," I offer, and squat on my knees in front of him. His pajama pants are loose, and I can easily roll them up to his thigh, where his prosthetic meets the remainder of what used to be his leg. I can see the skin underneath is raw. My fingers hover, and heat is radiating from the wound. "Oh, Peeta, this is more than one night."
"I haven't been sleeping. I just forget." He looks at the wall.
I place my hands on the release. "Can I?" I ask. He nods his head and I release the prosthetic. His face visibly shows relief. The stump is worse than I thought. There isn't any sign of infection - it's not tight and shiny, and there's no pus, but his leg is raw and open.
"I need to go home," I say, and I can see the disappointment cross Peeta's face. "For some herbs and medicines," I add. "I'll be right back." I cross to the door and realize I'm wearing nothing but a long t-shirt. I'm going to look like one of those poor women making their way back home from Cray's. I turn back. "Could I, maybe, borrow some pants?"
Peeta flashes a grin. "Sure." He gestures to his stairs and I bound up them. I mean to go directly to Peeta's room, but his studio is at the top of the steps and the door is ajar. I use my hunter's grace to sneak in. The small room is packed with canvases. The colors are vibrant. The paintings each differ so much. Some are symmetrical and have a clear methodology laid out. In others the brushstrokes sweep and flow freely across the canvas. Some are violent and jagged. The scenes vary as much as the styles. A serene painting of Prim nuzzling Buttercup. A potent image of Thresh, his face mangled and swollen, lying dead among the tall blades of grain. I'm everywhere. My brow is furrowed as I hover Gale, unconscious and wounded on my kitchen table. I'm on the roof of the tribute center, my head resting in Peeta's lap. I'm washing blood from Wiress's hair.
Then I see it. What he must have been painting last night, when things went wrong. The image is of the bakery. On the left is how I will always remember it - windows adorned with beautiful cakes, Prim's face pressed against the glass, his father peering out at her from the other side, smiling. As my eyes move right, the bakery is engulfed in flames, and by the time my eyes reach the other end, nothing is left but a pile of burnt rubble. His bakery has burned to the ground. As did his father. As did Prim. Beneath the canvas is broken glass. He must have smashed the glass he soaks his brushes in. Red paint is everywhere - the floor, streaking the canvas, the walls, the window. It looks like the scene of a horrific crime. In a way, it is.
I back out of the room slowly and close the door. I head to Peeta's bedroom, which, unlike mine, is neat as a pin. I open his bottom drawer and dig out a pair of pants. They hang off me, but my legs are covered. I run back downstairs and out the door. As I'm walking to my house, I see Johanna sitting on my steps.
"You locking me out now, Mockingjay?" I forgot I locked my door, and I certainly didn't bring my key with me when I flew to Peeta's last night.
"Locking me out, too. Wanna help me break in?" She snickers in delight and we survey the building. Johanna picks up a rock and looks intent on smashing one of my windows when I grab her wrist. "Preferably with minimal property damage."
She scowls and drops the rock. We find the window over the sink slightly cracked, and Johanna hoists me up as I force it open and pull my body inside. My kitchen is empty for morning. I picture Sae whisking a pan over my stove. I picture Haymitch and Effie side-by-side on the kitchen stools. I see Peeta at the table, doodling in the corner of the crossword. Instead, I unlock the front door and Johanna bursts through. She leaps up and plops herself cross-legged on my counter. She takes a blade from my knife block and starts twirling it around like the homicidal maniac she is.
"Those," she gestures with the knife, "are not your pants." I feel my face flush as Johanna cackles. "Oh poor Gale. He kept going on last night about how you and Peeta weren't even speaking, like he had some sort of chance with you." I'd take her empathy more seriously if she weren't giggling through it all.
"I don't even know what Gale is doing here," I respond.
"Trying to make amends. Beats me what for," she says back. "Either way, he said he wanted to come see you, and I've missed my lovebirds desperately. Plus, you don't pick up the phone when I call." She pouts at me, and I restrain myself from ripping her bottom lip off her face.
"In case you didn't notice, it's nothing personal." I gesture to the wires protruding from my wall where my phone used to be. She laughs even more.
"Look, give Gale a chance to just talk to you. He told me about Prim, and honestly Katniss, he may have hatched up the idea but he had no idea Coin would actually use it. He's devastated. He loved her too, you know."
"Don't try to make me feel bad for him." I focus on what I'm doing here and open my mom's medicine cabinet. I locate the ointment I'm looking for. "Look, I have to get back, but maybe you and I could have dinner tonight or something."
"Sounds like a date, Mockingjay," she sing-songs back to me.
I roll my eyes, but before I leave my house, I look back to her and implore, "Don't give Haymitch any more alcohol."
She blows me a kiss.
"I mean it." With that I'm out the door. I meant to change but I've already been gone longer than I meant to be. The heat from the day has descended around us, and it's desperately muggy. I'd love to go drift in the lake for the whole afternoon, but I don't see that opportunity presenting itself. Inside, Peeta has turned on some fans but they've done nothing to dissipate the heat. His face lights up when he sees me.
"This should help a lot. My mom got it from Madge. It's from the Capitol." I bend forward and rub the sticky ointment into Peeta's leg. He sighs with relief, and my stomach does a little somersault.
"That feels nice," he adds, smiling at me. He leans back and closes his eyes. "Did you and Gale talk?" His eyes are still closed, and he's acting like it's no big deal, but I know better.
"I have no interest in talking to Gale. He shouldn't have come here." I put the jar of medicine on the table.
"I don't know what happened, Katniss, but he was your best friend. Maybe you should hear what he has to say."
"You're my best friend, Peeta," I say back, and I mean it.
He smiles. "I did say was. So what do you want to do today? I think I'm gonna be stuck in this chair."
"I want to make a page. For Madge."
I write most of the afternoon. I've missed the book. I write about Madge and Mayor Undersee. I write about her mom, and how she never truly got over the loss of her sister. I used to be so cynical about her - about my mom. People that are weak. But I can see now how someone can fall into a darkness that isn't easy to overcome. Madge's mom lost his sister. I feel almost like I'm carrying that pain for the both of us now. Peeta draws Madge holding a basket of strawberries. She's smiling shyly at her dad. It breaks my heart, but in a way it helps me heal. When Haymitch shows up, he looks at our work and is quiet for a long time.
"This is where Maysilee's page should go," he says.
"Absolutely," I say as I take his hand. Peeta's phone rings again. Now that both Haymitch and I have ripped our phones from our walls, it could be for any of us.
"I'll get it," I say as I cross the room. At least I know it's not Gale. "Hello?"
"Katniss Everdeen, I have been gone for less than 48 hours at that place is already in shambles. SHAMBLES!"
"It's for you," I say and hold out the receiver for Haymitch.
He picks up the phone, and Effie continues on, oblivious to who or what is on the other end. I hear her high-pitched shriek from across the room. The longer her diatribe continues, the higher the resonance in her voice. Haymitch just grins the whole time.
"Are you gonna shut up for one second and let me say hello? Don't you breathe, princes?" I hear him manage to get in, before another flurry of atmospheric squealing continues.
"Remind me not to squeal," I say to Peeta. He laughs. "Don't get mad, but I invited Johanna for dinner."
"We should probably ask Gale," he says back.
"Ugh, why?" I reply, rolling my eyes. Peeta gives me a crooked smile. He doesn't want Gale and me to fight, but he can't help but like it just a little.
"Because what's he going to do, Katniss? Sit in his house alone?"
"Okay. Well, I need to go get some things for dinner anyway. I'll just stop by and ask him."
"Good," he smiles at me. He looks so much better than last night. Haymitch is still on the phone with Effie when I take off. I cross the street to the vacant house Johanna and Gale are occupying. All the houses are furnished and powered. We offered to have some of the residents of 12 move into them, but they've all refused. I knock on a front door that looks identical to mine, and Peeta's, and Haymitch's. I stare across the way at Effie's. I know it's not hers anymore, but to me that's Effie's house. It's identical to her door too. When I turn my head back, Gale is already standing in the doorway.
"Hi," he greets me with a shy smile. I want to smack it off his stupid face.
"Do you want to come to dinner?"