Peeta

Having spent a lot of time thinking about my own death recently I've concluded that my family loves me, but they don't need me. No one does. If I die, my family and friends will grieve, but in time they will learn to get along without me. Delly will most likely meet someone else, marry him, and have a family. I can't understand why I'm still here when men with wives and children are dead.

My crewmates' wedding rings remind me of a now bittersweet childhood memory. As a very young boy my father would sit me on his left knee while he worked in his study. I'd lean over the desk and grasp for papers and books he didn't want me to touch. So he'd lay my hand on his left hand, and the shininess of his wedding band would suddenly interest me more than anything else. I'd manipulate his fingers and tug at the warm metal to try to remove the ring so I could play with it, my attempts keeping me occupied and amusing my father. My father's wedding ring, both a source of happiness and frustration, fascinated me.

My crewmates' rings are so cold. The crash deprived them of their lives, and their wives and families will never touch or speak to them again. Perhaps they might see them again in heaven, but the idea of my friends being in heaven hasn't comforted me much so far. It's not comforting me now either. I want them here! Well, maybe not here. I want them to be alive and somewhere safe.

"Where is safer than in the arms of God?" My father might gently remind me if he knew that I felt this way. Then he might say, "we certainly miss people we care for who have died, but I'd venture to say that if they are with God they don't miss us." I can almost hear him saying these things, not in his preacher voice but in his every day voice, "Death is not the end. Not if we believe."

I did believe. In fact, believing was not that hard for me before the war…before I knew I'd sent people to heaven or hell with the mere flip of a trigger. Their deaths were probably much like those of my crewmates' suffocating, flaming deaths. Only rarely did anger so consume me that I hoped anyone would suffer. I often prayed they wouldn't suffer, but I'd celebrate with the others when we hit our targets. Each successful bombing run brought us a tiny step closer to the end of the war, didn't it?

But when I finally felt safe I'd put my hands over my face, shutting out the world and all its cruelties. I'd wonder if there had been people in the buildings we'd just bombed. If I knew for sure there had been, I'd wonder how many people and who they were. Shaking from head to toe I'd ask God to forgive me. Sometimes this anguish would start before I'd even left the plane, particularly if the bombardier and I had switched places, making me the one who actually dropped the bombs.

The war has to end. We have to win it, but I won't have more blood on my hands than necessary. Cai's family has prolonged my life by sharing their limited supplies of food with me and sheltering me. I've little doubt that I would be dead by now without them, and the thought of endangering them further horrifies me. So, I know what I must do. Leave. The risks don't matter. The question that remains is whether to tell Cai goodbye or just leave without warning. Neither will be easy for us because we've grown so attached to one another.

I close my eyes and try to think of a way to tell her. Explaining all these reasons and rationales in Chinese will be impossible for me if she doesn't understand right away. What if she's upset? How will I comfort her? Then again, maybe she'll care less than I think she will.

I ball my fists in frustration, desperately needing something to do! Something to make me stop thinking so much. Sitting still for this long with nothing productive to occupy your mind would drive a man to drink!

"Peeta?" a voice says to me.

It's hers, but I wasn't expecting her. A smile breaks across my face unwittingly when I look up to see Cai crawling over to sit beside me.

"Gao went to the landlord's house today to discuss the harvest. He brought something back," she says.

She shows me a book, a well-worn one. I take it in my hands eagerly but am disappointed when I realize it's in Mandarin. Of course, it would be in Mandarin. I'm in China. The title reads "A Child's Book of Wisdom."

"This is Min's favorite book. Mine too. But our landlord lets us borrow it for Min. He thinks she is good luck."

"Oh?" I ask. "Why's Min good luck?"

"Well, she won the water buffalo. And she was born on the eighth day of the eighth month."

I turn my head curiously. "A holiday?" I ask referring to the date.

"No, eights are just lucky." Cai says.

"When were you born?" I ask.

"The eighth day of the fifth month."

She's sitting close to me now, close enough that I can feel her clothes touch my hand but not feel her body.

"Then you're lucky too," I say softly.

"A little," she says as she lowers her gaze to the book. An uncomfortable minute passes before she starts speaking again. "I can read but not that well. This book is hard for me. Maybe together we could read it."

Shaking my head, I chuckle a bit. "Cai, do you really think I can read a book in Mandarin that you can't?"

"No," she says, her face suddenly stern. "I think there will be characters you know that I don't, and I think there will be some that I know that you don't. We can learn to read it together."

"Why?" I ask.

Her expression falls flat as she takes the book out of my arms.

"I'll just do this with Min," she says. "We don't need help."

The muscles of her face tighten, and she starts to crawl to the cave entrance.

"Wait," I say. "I don't understand."

"I thought you liked books," she says, her voice laced with anger. Her sandaled feet scrape frantically against the stony ground as she tries to leave as quickly as she can.

"I do. I love books!" My heart beats faster, and my stomach lurches. I don't want her to leave. "I want to read it," I tell her. "…with you."

She turns her head to look at me, her eyes narrowing.

"You'll only laugh at me," she says. "No, I'll just read what I can to my sister."

"No, Cai. If I can help you then I will," I explain desperately. "Please. Let's look at the book together."

"Learning is like rowing upstream: not to advance is to drop back," she says.

"What?" I ask, puzzled by such an odd statement.

"It's in the book. 'Learning is like rowing upstream: not to advance is to drop back.'"

"I probably couldn't have read that," I tell her.

"My father used to read from this book to us sometimes. He liked that one."

She crawls back to me, sits down, and opens the book. Then she slides closer to me so we actually touch slightly. I'm surprised at how quickly I've been forgiven.

"I like this," she says, pointing out a section of the book that's illustrated with pictures of children carrying beautiful decorations that look like dragons. Her eyes light up.

"Um…it's beautiful." Distracted by her proximity I try to cover my feelings with curiosity. "How many books have you read?" I ask.

"This one and four others," she answers. "My father also wrote characters for me so I could learn more. He said the five books our landlord has are good for learning."

I raise my head to meet her eyes, wondering what it would be like to have read only five books in your whole life and to not feel like you could read those very well.

"Why? How many have you read?" She asks.

She stares at me with a curious expression when I don't answer.

"Many then?" she asks.

"Yes"

"How many?"

I shrug.

"I don't know. Hundreds?" I guess, though I suspect the number is actually in the thousands if small books count, but there's no reason to point out the differences in our opportunities any more than necessary.

Her eyes widen, "where do they all come from?"

"We have some at home. There were more at school. There's a whole building for them in town. Anyone can borrow one from the city there. We have some at church."

"So, everywhere," Cai says, still looking amazed.

"I think you must like books as much as I do," I say with a smile.

"Maybe I do," she admits.

We settle even closer together with the light from the cave entrance falling on the pages of the book, which we have propped up on her knees and my good knee. My broken leg is outstretched as usual. Cai reads whole sections, or perhaps she has some of them memorized. Either way, they sound poetic and beautiful. In the story section she can read almost everything but wrinkles her forehead in frustration when she can't. I'm little help, but I try. Once when I actually do know a character she doesn't she tells me how much I've helped her.
"I can't believe you know that. I don't know any English except 'Katniss' and 'hello,'" she says.

"And you say both very well," I tell her.

"But I can't read them!" She points out. "What are your favorite books, since you've read so many?"

I tell her about a few of them as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

/

There's a loud clatter, and I open my eyes to light emanating from a lantern held up close to my face. I back up instinctively, hitting the cave wall. Cai, who must have been leaning on my shoulder falls forward and makes a little noise, catching herself before she hits the cave floor. Has she been asleep? I assume that I have been. Her hand is laying on mine, and I quickly pull it away.

"What are you doing?" Gao says angrily.

Not knowing which one of us he's talking to or where he's going with this I stay quiet and look questioningly at Cai.

"Reading," she answers, and clears her throat.

"In the dark? You never came home. We were worried," Gao tells her. "I should have known you'd be with him."

Cai's eyes look heavy. How long were we sleeping?

"No need to worry. I'm not hurt or sick," she says.

"Did he make you stay here?" Gao asks, ignoring her and glowering at me. Then he looks us up and down suspiciously.

"Of course not!" Cai says, now getting angry herself. She starts to move away from me, but Gao throws an open hand in the air in front of her, making it clear he prefers for her to stay where she is. Cai complies, reluctantly. She and Gao do have an interesting relationship.

"I don't like you out here at night," Gao tells her. "It's not safe."

"No less safe than during the day," she answers as she crosses her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Maybe that's not safe then either," he says, shaking the lantern just a little in his tight fist so that it throws wider shadows on the cave wall.

"What do you have to say?" he yells in my direction.

"We were reading this book." I point to the book where it's fallen between us.

He gives me another suspicious glare.

"Don't touch my…my...Don't touch Cai," he finishes and looks down at the hands that had been joined when we woke up.

I back up all the way against the wall, wishing I could disappear for both her sake and mine.

"You shouldn't be here," he says, lowering his voice a little, a slight desperation evident. He's holding back. I'm surprised he hasn't resorted to violence yet.

"I know," I agree, lowering my voice also in the hopes it will help calm him. If I'd found Delly sleeping next to another man back home I'd have been angry. Worse yet, if I'd had a sister and found her in the same position I don't know what I would have done. Gao doesn't strike me as a man in full control sometimes, as if he's confused about some of his feelings. Confusion can lead to fear which easily leads to violence. He takes a step closer to me. In a fight right now, I'll lose.

"Gao, you don't have to worry," Cai says.

Yes, that's what Gao is. He's worried. Worried I'll hurt her or take advantage of her. Maybe he believes I already have.

"We were just reading. Peeta's telling the truth. I brought the book to him," she explains. "We fell asleep reading it."

Gao backs up and turns to look at her, "I think he's a good man, Cai, but he's still a man. And not sick like he was before," Gao continues. The lantern's still, and Gao's lowered his voice. I actually sympathize with him. He doesn't know my intentions, and the truth is that I'm very attracted to Cai. Even though he doesn't spend much time with us he'd have to be blind not to notice that. "I think you should go outside," he tells Cai.

Cai glances at me, fear in her eyes, which makes me shudder. Does she know what's coming next? Then without a word she leaves us there alone. Gao's eyes bore into mine. He looks me over again, then around the cave. Clearly he knows I'm no match for him in a fight because he keeps giving away his advantages. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't in fear for my life. At any moment he might drag me out of the cave and beat me to death, or worse. I'm not sure whether to deny any romance with Cai or if bringing up the topic at all might give him more evidence of my guilt. Besides, don't I think of Cai in that way even if I haven't tried to act on those feelings? My denials probably wouldn't sound very genuine.

"I don't know how you do things where you come from, but you…" he sighs loudly before continuing. "You and her being out here like this is enough to…to…"

I nod my head. "It's like that where I come from," I tell him.

"So, I'll make sure this doesn't happen again," he says, the anger starting to rise in his voice again. "I won't give you over to our enemies, Peeta, but I won't let you cause trouble here either."

"I understand," I tell him.

Gao suddenly starts to back out of the cave, watching me the whole time. I hear his voice rise again as he addresses Cai outside. He's asking her questions and she's answering "no" loudly, probably denying anything illicit happening between us. As their voices grow fainter I settle into the dark cave for whatever is left of the night and think about Gao's protectiveness. He does love Cai. I'm just not sure he loves her the way a husband should love a wife.

Dawn comes quicker than I expect, which means Cai spent most of the night in the cave with me. Daylight hours pass. Eventually I try to read the book, which in the chaos was left with me. But that distraction barely diminishes the sting of guilt. I've gotten Cai into trouble with her family. Maybe she got herself into trouble as well, but if I wasn't here none of it would have happened. It's yet another way I endanger her, and ultimately myself.

I'm starting to become desperately hungry when I hear someone removing the rocks we usually stack at the entrance of the cave. Min crawls inside moments later. She gives me a half smile and greets me.

"There are some carrots with the rice today," she tells me. Then she turns to leave.

"Wait. Min?"

"Yes?" She answers, turning back to me.

"How? What? I just…"

"Do you want to know how Cai is?" she asks.

I nod.

"She's fine. A little sad. I suppose you are also."

I say nothing, not knowing how Min might respond. Of course, I am sad.

"How angry is Gao?" I ask, hoping that Min might be sympathetic with me. She's always been my defender, even when Cai was ready to let me die.

"Angry. It will pass, but he's definitely angry."

I want to ask if I'll see Cai again, but I don't want Min to tell Gao I asked that question. So, I don't.

"You'll be bringing food then? Or should I try to go out and get it? I'm walking a little better," I offer.

"Probably best not to go far from the cave unless one of us tells you it's safe. I don't know who will bring your food. Cai told me to do it today."

"Oh," I say quietly.

I suspect Cai either didn't want to see me or didn't think it would be a good idea.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow," Min says.

I don't get the impression that they're going to stop feeding me, but Min certainly isn't her gregarious self. After she's gone I think of the book, which is still sitting beside me. They'll have to return it, so I know someone will come back here eventually. I wrap my arm around the book in the dark. After all, it's Cai's favorite.