The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.
This chapter contains mentions of child abuse.
I've interacted more with Primrose Everdeen in a 10-minute car ride than I have with her sister since I've known her. They're so unlike, both in looks and personalities, that it's hard to believe they're related. For a second I wish Katniss was more like Prim and imagine how easier it would be for us to get closer, but I quickly I realize how wrong that is. Part of what attracts me to Katniss is the very reason she shies away.
"Alright, Prim, get inside before you ask Peeta to finish it for you," Katniss says as we're getting out of the car. One of the first things her sister asked me about was whether I am the one that used to decorate the cakes in the bakery. My confirmation opened the door to a whole conversation. She asked me for advice on the painting she was working on in art class and I gladly gave it to her, with Katniss listening, amused. It was quite obvious the little girl had no one to talk with at home about those things. "And check if mom ate something this morning." Prim nods and hurries inside the small house. I don't have time to ask where we're going before Katniss starts taking the stairs that lead to the second floor.
"Your mom alright?" I have a feeling the reason we're getting upstairs this way is because there's something she doesn't want me to see. And I haven't seen Mrs. Everdeen in years, now that I think about it.
"Is yours?" Katniss snaps so abruptly that I almost fall down the stairs, but manage to grab the banister in the last moment. On top she's breathing heavily, the key in her hand and not yet in the lock. Is she waiting for an answer? I don't have one.
"I'm sorry, that was… sorry. It's a sensitive subject, but… you just wanted to know. My mom's okay," she says softly and unlocks the door. Walks in, throws her bag to the floor, motions for me to step in too.
I expected a living room, maybe a bedroom. There are crumbled sheets on the couch, but this room is definitely used for something more complex. The unkempt desk with the laptop, the wall above the couch with papers and notes stuck to a wooden board, the camera on the small coffee table all say so.
"This is my office," Katniss confirms my suspicions. "Well, my dad's office. At least it used to be." She clears her throat and goes to move the sheets from the couch. "Sorry about the mess. I don't usually sleep here, but I was too tired to move yesterday after doing research."
"Right, because the couch is the biggest mess in this room." She gapes at me, crumbling the sheets even more in her fists. "I'm just kidding." She throws them in my face and I laugh, ignoring the way my heart flutters when I realize how much they smell like her. A week ago I would dream of knowing the way that Katniss Everdeen smells, so this is pretty much… well, a dream. Even when she's staring at me in annoyance.
"Just put them on the floor by the door, I'll take them downstairs later," she says, taking pity on me as I wonder what to do now. When I turn, she's seated on the couch with her laptop on the coffee table. I stand awkwardly on the other side.
"Just come sit, okay?" Katniss tells me, her voice soft besides the roll of her eyes. "Like the mess or not, you are going to be spending some time here if you want to work with me."
"I do," I reassure her hastily, not wanting her to get the wrong assumptions because of my sudden uncomfortableness. I know it's just Katniss, but it's just… Katniss.
"So I know moms aren't your favorite subject either, but we are going to have to talk about what Haymitch advised. The trial can be any day now and…"
"It's on the 20th of December." Katniss raises her eyebrow and I explain. "Delly talked to Ewald today." We had class together after lunch and she told me it wasn't very hard to get the information she needed from him, as it was his favorite subject. Rye might be a good wrestler, but he obviously can't fight well enough to shut that boy's mouth.
"Delly?" Katniss surprises me by asking. I expected her to start forming a plan immediately or something that suits her more.
"Delly Cartwright. Her family owns the shoe shop. I think you have Math together…"
"I know who Delly is. What I didn't know was that she knows… all of this," Katniss says, her fingers playing with her braid.
"Not all of this. She's my best friend… my only friend right now. I have my brothers, I know, but it's not the same. Delly actually listens." Why are we talking about this right now?
"Right." Katniss clears her throat, looking away to some papers she has in her lap, obviously ready to change the subject, but I remember something.
"I could've just sat with Delly today at lunch, you know."
"Why does that sound like a threat?" Katniss asks, annoyed again.
"It's not! I loved talking to you and Madge today. I just mean that it was Delly's choice to remain at the usual table," I plead with her to understand, but she's not in the same boat as me.
"Well, good for her. I'm sure she had a good laugh… behind your back, by the way. Literally."
"Gah, you're so…" I trail off, scared she'll take it for something bad again. "The jokes and the laughing are just a way to survive. I don't like all of the sudden attention on my family, but I've come to accept it. People are scared to see how it will affect things in the entire district so they're just trying to predict the winning side and sink the other."
"So what? I'm supposed to just accept that and keep in mind it doesn't mean anything even when they're doing their best to make it seem so? That's a lousy excuse and you know it." There's so much fire in her eyes I'm slightly scared she'll throw me out. "No matter where you end up having to live, Peeta, this isn't going to be the last time I'm in the middle. Now, I hate pitying myself even more than others pitying me, but it's true. I don't care why people do it. I don't want to listen to any justifications. It's just the way things are and I've come to accept that, so don't mess with it… okay?"
I should've seen this coming… except I honestly did not. The tabs I've kept on her through the years might help me tell you that she prefers to sit in the row closest to the window in a classroom and that even if she had all of the money in the world she wouldn't buy anything they sell in the cafeteria, judging by the disgusted looks she sends to the few who do. These are just things anyone who has the desire to can notice, though, and the truth is I do not know Katniss Everdeen, just like I didn't know how affected she really is by people's attitudes towards her. I've always imagined her as this strong, unshaken by anything and anyone that comes her way, person… and she is, just not always. That's what makes you human, isn't it? I've learned to put on a strong face in front of my mother, too, but just yesterday I was sobbing in Katniss' car. Damn it.
"Okay," I finally respond after a long moment of me staring at Katniss and her staring at her lap. "I'm sorry if it came out like I was defending anyone but Delly. She's on our side and she's been for a long time. So yeah, I trust her enough to tell her some stuff, because she's the combination of a smart girl and a good friend. She's admired you for a while, too. Even has had the bravery to state so at the lunch table. Took a few calls to me, sobbing that the girls in the locker room stole her clothes or dumped them in the toilet to get her to shut up."
"I remember that," Katniss says, quieter than me even though she's in her own home. "I was there once, probably the first time, because she was so baffled. I didn't see whoever took her clothes in action, but I could tell from the snickers… unlike Delly, who just assumed someone mistook her clothes for theirs or she put them in the wrong locker. Then she saw some girl from town, I don't know her name, leaving the room with her backpack open, on purpose of course, looking straight at Delly. The moment she noticed her clothes inside, Delly started shaking her head and wailing." I feel the rage from 2 years ago awake in me again. I never got the full story.
"I felt bad, but the bigger part of me was curious how did one of the most loved girls in the school end up in a situation like that. Taking it as unnecessary drama, I finished getting dressed… A good idea, since you burst in not a minute later." A minute? I hate my timing. "Still surprised you didn't get sent to the principal for that."
"I've thought about this and, you know, if it was Rye, with his reputation, he probably wouldn't have had the same luck. Everyone knew I wasn't in the girls' room to get in trouble."
"I don't know, giving Delly your clothes was kind of scandalous," Katniss retorts with a smirk. "Shooting everyone death glances was definitely troublesome."
"Eh, that's not exactly the kind of trouble I'm talking about." She stiffens immediately and I almost regret it, but then I notice the slight smirk still remaining.
"Tell Delly she's welcome any time to sit with us," Katniss says and I smile, content.
"She'll be happy to hear that. I don't think she'll take that offer soon, though. Neither of us are afraid anymore, but she did get us the information we needed, right?"
"She did," Katniss says with a nod. "Which brings us back to the trial…" She hands me the papers she's been busying her hands with ever since we sat down. "I printed a list of things we can add to the accusations our- I mean your side is going to present against your mother. Your father is going to add more, too, I assume, but I think what will really bring her down is… you." She swallows hard before continuing. "So you can check those who apply and then we'll discuss them to get you prepared. Haymitch will do the same with your father and brothers, if they want to testify."
"You're stuck with me?" I ask, looking up at her with an uncertain smile.
"I, um, kind of… It's what we agreed to, right? I help you out. The only difference is you have a lawyer now and yes, it is his job to talk you through this, but there's not much time and… Haymitch and I both thought it'd be easier for you to talk with me about this first instead of to him, who you've just met, and then to a stranger with curious eyes, who can judge if he wants because it's his job to judge."
She's rambling, but I'm too touched to stop her from embarrassing herself further. There's nothing embarrassing to find in what she's done for me and what she keeps doing for me, but that's not how she'd take it. Every time we get closer, someone takes a step back, more often than not that's her. I don't care right now, I'm too busy trying my hardest not to embarrass myself by closing what's left of the distance between us. Delly was right, once again.
"I'll let you check these out." Katniss nods towards the papers, standing up. "You hungry?" I shake my head. "Just tea, then." She grabs the sheets by the door before exiting the room.
I take a few deep breaths, not knowing what to expect. I hope I don't have a breakdown like yesterday. Not for my mother, not in front of Katniss, not again.
Some of the things listed actually kind of make me laugh. Obviously taken from a site hosted by the Capitol, there are complains that seem absurd and crazy, but somewhat enlightening to the life the multicolored citizens we see on TV have there – something I've always been curious about, stuck here in district 12. It stops being so funny around the time I pass "stealing makeup". There's nothing funny in the things that do apply. Before I check the box that's for yes, there's always a second where I consider whether I really want to do that – put myself through having to discuss it. With Katniss, of all people. But I know it's time to stop hiding. Unfortunately, this time it'll be me taking a step back, or rather, forcing her to take one. Surely she won't look at me the same way ever again.
I don't have time to consider erasing at least some of the most painful to make check marks before she's back, carrying a tray. She leaves it on the table and I put the papers next to it.
"Something to warm us up," Katniss says, taking her seat next to me. She's changed her clothes, I notice, taking in her huge gray sweatshirt that reaches her knees and black leggings. She uses her too long sleeves to grab a cup, filled with steaming hot tea. "The fireplace doesn't quite reach the second floor. I don't know how I didn't freeze to death last night. I hate winter."
"I can't do it now because I share a room with Rye and it drives him nuts, but I usually sleep with the window open. Even in winter," I say, ready to take a sip from my own cup but Katniss pokes me, causing me to spill some of the tea.
"You're crazy! And I was just about to offer you a blanket…" She continues muttering under her breath, changing positions so that she's sitting on her legs, obviously to try and get warmer. I keep my mouth shut and just smile at her cuteness.
I force myself to hand her the papers, even if it means ruining the moment. She takes them and quickly reads through the first page. "Alright, most of these are things your father has suffered, I believe. You might be asked if you've ever been a witness, if you suspected cheating, so we must have a discussion with Haymitch before-" She stops mid-sentence and I know her attention has been caught by something on the second page. Not like either of us didn't know this was coming, but we still hold our breaths.
So which kind of abuse is it?
"Psychological abuse," Katniss reads. "This refers to you?" she asks cautiously and I wish she'd drop it, because it's clear her words are not the one bothering me.
"Me, my dad, my brothers, you, the entire population of the district… I'll talk just about me for now, because I don't know how the others feel about that."
"Okay, Peeta. When did that start?" She says my name like it's something precious; that in contrast sounds pathetic.
"It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment, because it's been so long. It might've been going on for even longer than that, without me seeing it as what it was. The first time I knew she wasn't supposed to be talking to me like that, though, was when I was… 5, maybe 6. Bannock was the only kid considered good enough of a baker by her standards then, so Rye and I were always stuck washing up after everyone. I actually enjoyed it, even if at the end of the day my hands were soggy and there was barely anything left of my nails, because dad would sometimes award me by letting me frost a cookie or two. When my mother wasn't looking, of course. I always noticed that detail. It was on a day that my father had promised me I'd get to help with a cake after I'm done with the free trays, that my mother lost her temper. I might've been a little too giddy, hurrying to get the job done faster and I might've put down a tray that still had some crumbs in the corner. I still regret that, to this day." It's in that moment that I feel Katniss' hand on my own. I can see that she wants to say something, but won't until I'm finished so I focus on her fingers drawing invisible circles and continue.
"It was the end of the world for my 5-year-old self when she told me I'll never become a baker if I can't wash properly a few things. My crying only encouraged her. I couldn't, I didn't want to believe what she was telling me. That big boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Automatically that made me an even bigger failure. She wanted a girl, I know that. Hell, I understand it. But I didn't then. I just kept on scrubbing the same tray over and over, her voice still haunting me. I don't know when she left, it might've been minutes, it might've been hours. Her voice never did."
If it was, for an example, Delly that I've told this story to, she'd be crying by now. There are no tears in Katniss' eyes. Fire beats water.
"That's good. Bad for Ellesse." I can't help but notice that this is the first time she's used my mother's name. "Blaming you for turning out to be a boy, something you can't possibly do anything about, is harsh. Meaning, you should bring it up more. The judge would probably ask, anyway." I cringe at the idea. "I know," she surprises me by saying. "I promise you'll never have to talk on this subject unwillingly ever again."
"It's kind of nice to talk to you about this, actually…" I say under my nose.
"I won't lie and say it's nice to hear it, but I'm glad you feel that way." She leans back against the cushion, taking my hand with her, forcing me to get closer.
I continue to tell her other tales of my dark past; her hand never leaving mine, her eyes never leaving mine, even when I look away, having trouble getting something out, worried about her reaction. We've unconsciously moved to the topic of the other abuse I've suffered, which she knows about thanks to that rainy day I saved her life. I wonder if she knows she's saving mine.
"It started with a hand on my shoulder. The first time I came home from school with news about my very first grade. We were sitting around the table, having dinner. Dad, who picked me and my brothers up, already knew so he mentioned it. I could tell it bothered her that I hadn't told her, so of course she assumed I was hiding something bad. Didn't say anything about it, though. Not until I spilled the beans that I got a B, instead of an A, like Bannock and even Rye did. So she lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. It hurts more than a scraped knee and more than a burnt on the oven hand, but I say nothing, remembering our conversation by the sink. Boys don't cry. I don't even remember how I got the "bad" grade, but she said we'll work on it. When we're done eating, she orders everyone but me to go clean up. I'm surprised, even a little excited to see what my mom has prepared for me. I remember Rye getting a new backpack this very day a year earlier. All I get is a slap across the face."
By this point we're almost laying next to each other. So professional.
"Peeta?" Katniss asks. I've closed my eyes for a moment.
"Yes?" I ask, opening my eyes and almost falling off the couch when I notice how close her face has gotten. I remember when this happened at her hiding place, she turned away immediately. I don't. I need her now, for completely selfish reasons. I allow myself to be selfish just this once.
"I have to ask." I can see she's afraid to. What can be scarier than what we've just discusses for hours? "Why didn't your father do anything? Not just that one time. Ever." This is the one thing that's been nagging me, too. I've left it aside ever since he filed for divorce, but I can't pretend there weren't times my dad would listen to my cries of anguish and do nothing.
"I don't know," I say simply.
"He's going to have to know. They will ask that. It's possible even Caroline will be the one to, if that's the route they take."
"Mention it to Haymitch, then. I don't think I can handle that." I need at least one person in whose love for me I can be absolutely certain. Despite everything, my father has always taken that role and if that changes or if I learn it's never been real… that's when I might lose it.
"I think you've done enough talking for one day… or a lifetime," Katniss says, but doesn't move to stand up and doesn't look like she wants me to either, so I don't. "By the way, you can take the camera home with you, to try it out. It's kind of old, but it does the trick, as long as you're not me." I agree. Her words kind of sounded like a goodbye, but, still, neither of us moves. I'm growing kind of uncertain so I'm thankful when she speaks.
"Want more tea?"
"If it's not a bother," I reply.
"You're not a bother," she says, her voice insistent, but her eyes shining with mirth as she steps over me to retrieve the tray.
This couch is much more comfortable than the floor at Bannock's. It's easier to focus on that now that I don't have to be constantly occupied with self-control, having Katniss that close to me. I barely register the door closing, snuggling close to the place she used to occupy.
The last thought on my mind before I drift off is how the sheets she tossed me smelled the exact same way. Pines and wet moss.
Feedback is always appreciated!