I'm fidgeting at the doors with excitement. I can barely wait for the train to stop rolling. I want to leap from the door now, but Haymitch is holding it closed until the train stops. I hop back and forth on each foot.
"You look like you have to pee, knock it off," he says.
"How long does this thing take to brake? Let's go!" I whine. He rolls his eyes.
Finally the wheels jerk to a stop and he throws open the door. I leap onto the platform, momentarily blinded by the flash of the photographers waiting for me. I squint in the bright light and try to hear her call over the cheers and shouts.
Her bright eyes and blond braid appear in the crowd.
I run to her as fast as I can and she runs back. "Prim!" I shout, lifting her off the ground as I squeeze my arms around her. She's crying and so am I. I see my mother over her shoulder, wiping her eyes. She wraps her arms around us both and cries on Prim's shoulder.
I release them and set Prim down. I feel a tug at my elbow. "Gale!"
I throw my arms around his neck and he's laughing as he hugs me. His mother is patting my back and smiling with shining eyes. "Catnip," he sighs in my ear.
"I'm home," I whisper.
The photographers demand a few more pictures with my family and friends. They pose Madge at my elbow as her father shakes my hand. I smile genuinely. I'm home. I turn to the next well-wisher and freeze.
I'm face to face with Tate's mother. The photographers start snapping with a vicious frenzy.
"Katniss," she croaks, a thin smile on her face. "Congratulations."
I rest my hand on her arm but she turns away, melting into the crowd.
Finally my mother is able to pull me from the platform and we step down to the earth. My feet know the ground and I feel at home breathing in the familiar air. I hold Prim's hand tightly, watching her toothy grin as she looks up at me. I bump into Gale as I bear right at the fork in the road to town.
He laughs. "Where are you going?"
"To my house!"
"You don't live in the Seam anymore."
"They've already moved our things?" I glance over at my mother. She nods.
"Your things," she corrects. "A crew arrived yesterday to collect your clothes and a few personal things."
"I helped arrange them in your room," Prim pipes up. "I wanted to make sure they didn't take anything."
"I doubt I have anything worth stealing," I remind her.
"Wait until you see your house," she says with wide eyes.
They lead me across town. It's a long walk and I can see people staring at me and pointing. I grow uncomfortable at the attention; I had hoped once I was free of the Capital I would no longer live under a microscope. I can see almost why Haymitch drinks the prying eyes away.
I spy him heading into his house when we reach the entrance to the Victor's Village. He must have slipped the crowd at the platform and left for home immediately. I can't blame him. I've grown tired of it all in my first year.
"This is it," Prim says.
I stop and look up. This pale blue house is giant compared to the lean-to we called home in the Seam. Two floors, a shingled roof, white shuttered windows and a wraparound porch look back at me. I step slowly up the three stairs onto the porch. I look back at my mother and Gale.
"Go on," she says.
I push on the polished wooden door and it swings open. I try not to gasp. The front sitting room is larger than my Seam house. The fireplace is big enough to roast a pig in. The stairs to the second floor are covered in plush white carpeting. I think I spy a bathroom under the stairs. I look into the open kitchen. A double stove sits in the wall next to an icebox. I won't be cooking over a woodstove again. We can keep food more than two days.
I'm stunned as I moved toward the stairs. I can hear my family, Gale and Hazelle enter behind me, shushing each other as they watch my reaction. I climb the steps slowly.
The upstairs is equally impressive. From the top of the stairs I can see another bathroom in the middle of the hallway and two bedrooms beyond it. I turn to my left to enter the largest bedroom.
Prim and I shared a small single bed at home. Here a large double bed sits in the center of the room. Two dressers, a low one on the right wall and a tall one tucked in a corner to my left tell me I have new clothes waiting for me. Two closets sit in the wall. I cross to one and open it.
"Cinna," I breathe. My dresses are lined up. I gently finger the fabric of the fiery dress I wore to my first televised interview. His stitching is perfect. I let the dress slip away and close the door.
"Do you like it?" Gale's voice is in the doorway.
"It's impressive," I say, looking over. "I hate it."
"Me too," he says, crossing to my bed and sitting down heavily. "But," he smiles "you still have a place in the Seam."
He lifts his eyebrows and smiles. "That moving crew wouldn't take your family's stuff; they're supposed to stay at home. I mean, they still moved their things over this morning, but this house is registered only to you."
"Is there anything left in the old house?"
He nods mischievously.
An hour later we're in my former home. "What am I looking for?" I laugh as Gale tells me if I'm getting warmer or colder.
"You'll see," he teases. "Colder."
"Dammit, Gale!" I cry out in frustration. "What-" I stop. I see it tucked away in the corner. "Gale," I whisper.
My bow peeks out from under the disused wood stove. I hurry over and pull it out, holding it to my chest.
"I found your hiding spot a few days after you left," he confesses sheepishly. "I need to make you some more arrows, but…I kept your bow safe."
"Thank you," I smile gratefully. "I…thank you."
He watches me. He takes a step closer to me. "Thank you for coming home." He leans in slowly. I watch him stunned.
He kisses me softly, pressing more firmly into me when I don't respond. He pulls away, frowning. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I thought…"
"No, it's nothing," I sputter. "I…I'm just…surprised."
"Really?" he asks doubtfully.
"It's been a very confusing few weeks," I apologize. I smile. "Let's hunt tomorrow. I want to remember myself again."
He smiles cautiously. "Okay. I'll see you at dawn."
I relish every minute I have before the Victory starts in another four months.
Gale didn't mention the kiss again and I haven't since. I think I wounded his feelings, but we don't speak of it. There's a tense peace between us. I want to tell him my fears; but I can't tell a soul.
I'm beginning to wonder if – maybe hope - he's forgotten about me the morning the phone rings. I stare at the phone for a moment, bewildered. It's never rung before. I pick it up slowly, like a foreign animal.
"Yes?"
"Katniss?"
I clear my throat. "Yes."
"Hi."
When I recognize his voice my knees feel weak. "Oh, Peeta. Hi." I can picture his smiling face on the other end of the line.
"I hope you don't mind, I got your phone number from Effie."
"Of course not," I tell him, plotting my revenge against Effie Trinket.
"How's your new home?"
"It's beautiful," I tell him. "It's strange to have this much room, you know? Oh, I mean I guess you wouldn't know. Not that you can't imagine," I stammer. You sound like an idiot, I tell myself.
He laughs. "No, I understand. My home is kind of stupid, isn't it? All this space for a handful of people."
"Is it just you and your father?"
"Mostly. Dad has his assistants and advisors live here."
"Does Portia live there?"
"No. I have a room for her, but I told her to keep her own place after we hired her. I told her it's because I wanted her to have her life outside work, but really I wanted her to leave me the hell alone once in a while." His voice is smiling.
I hear a woman's voice from near the receiver. "Is that her?"
"Yeah," he sighs. "She's always here." I hear her say something in a sharp tone. He laughs again. "She's mad a lot too."
I feel a little embarrassed listening in on their obvious tug-of-war friendship. "You can't even call someone without supervision?"
"No," he says dejectedly.
"Why not?"
"My father says he wants to be sure I live up to his standards," he mourns. "I wish I knew what they were."
"Perfection?"
"I hope not!" he laughs. "I'd never live up to that."
"I doubt that," I smirk. I roll my eyes at his self-effacing humor. He's perfected the act of being innocent and likeable.
"How is your meadow?"
I eagerly take the opportunity to change the subject. "The dandelions have gone to seed. It looks like it snowed feathers. The puffs keep getting stuck in my hair!"
He snickers again. "Now that I'd like to see." He pauses again. "Do you have a camera?"
"No," I tell him. "I wouldn't know how to use one anyway."
"Shame," he says.
He asks me to describe my home again, and I give him a few innocuous details about life in Twelve. I leave out any mention of names. He may seem harmless, but he has dangerous connections.
After he hangs up, I stand with the receiver in my hand listening to the dial tone. The back door to the kitchen slams and I hastily hang up.
"Who was that?" my mother asks, setting a basket of medicinal herbs on the table to sort.
"Um, just Cinna. Reminding me not to cut my hair."
"It's getting so long," she frowns. I reach back and touch the braid, wishing I'd thought of a better lie.
"Maybe he'll cut it for me," I tell her. I help her sort the herbs.
It's barely a week later that the package arrives.
I walk to the train station with the small paper notice clutched in my fingers. I've never received a package before. I wonder who sent it. I imagine clothes from Cinna, an etiquette book from Effie I'll never read, maybe a note of admiration from Caesar Flickerman.
When the porter hands me the package just larger than my palm, I'm baffled.
Walking home I decide to open it privately. Prim will be home from school by the time I arrive and my mother is usually there to greet her. I slip out to the Seam. I wander along the path I know well, my feet moving on instinct as I avoid the gaze of the people who know my face from the Games.
I reach the fence and duck under, stealing into the woods to hide. I pull myself up onto the boulder where I met Gale that morning. I only have a month until he begins work in the mines. My fear for him is painful.
I turn the small square over in my hands, trying to recognize the even-handed printing under the seal of the Capital that is stamped on the front. Giving up, I tear the brown paper and open the cardboard box.
A note flutters onto my lap.
I pick up the strange metal box inside. It has a glass eye and small buttons running along the top with symbols I can't decipher. "What the - ?" I mutter to myself. I reach into my lap and unfold the note.
You said maybe I could see your dandelion meadow someday. So I thought why not today? Please send me a photo. I can't wait to see you again. Peeta.
I set down the camera and note and scream into the woods.
My mother immediately notices my expression when I get home. When she asks me what's wrong, I surrender the note and camera and drop onto the sofa in the living room.
"Peeta? Who is…oh. Oh no – " Her face goes white. "Katniss, how…?"
"We met at my Victory Reception," I mumble. "He gave me a tour of their gardens."
My mother sinks slowly in the chair opposite me.
"You can't…he's…," she gasps.
"I know, Mom!" I yell at her. I kick myself as Prim rushes to the top of the stairs to see what I'm yelling about.
"What's wrong?" she asks, jumping down the stairs to hurry to my side.
"Nothing," I mutter. She sits down beside me anyway. She knows I'm lying.
"Katniss, you cannot get involved with that family," my mother says futilely. She sounds helpless and frightened.
Prim looks to me and waits. I hand her the note.
"Who is that?" she asks, frowning as she reads.
"Snow's son."
Her face blanches. "Oh."
"Yeah," I nod.
"Why did he send you this?" My mother takes the camera from me and examines it like a wild and dangerous plant.
"He called. Last week. When I told you it was Cinna. I told him about the dandelions in the meadow and…how the puffs got stuck in my hair…he wanted to see it." I drift off.
"You lied to me?"
"What was I supposed to say?" I challenge her. "Oh, Mom, that was just the President's son! He gave me his mother's favorite piece of jewelry before I left the Capital. Just calling to check in!"
"He what?"
I rub my eyes with my fingertips. "He gave me a dandelion brooch that was Lady Amaranth's."
I hear her hiss as she sucks in air between her teeth. "You should send it back to him."
"I tried to refuse it, Mom. He wouldn't let me," I whimper. "I don't know what to do."
"How did you meet?" Prim asks.
I look over at her. "He was at the Victor's Reception, he asked me to dance. I told him about you collecting plants so he showed me their conservatory." I look over at my mother's face. "He was a gentleman, Mom. Nothing happened."
Prim is hopeful. "Well, if he's nice maybe you can tell him you can't see him and he won't mind."
"It's not that simple, Prim," our mother says. "She's going to see him every year as a mentor. This is a very delicate situation. Besides, he could be a perfect gentleman at parties, but what about in private? And what about what his father?"
"I don't think Snow knows the whole of it," I tell her. "He only noticed Peeta was missing at dinner, but I didn't go back into the party with him. I don't even know if he's aware Peeta came to see me off at the train station."
The camera drops from my mother's hands. She doesn't move to pick it up. "Okay," she says, licking her lips and breathing quickly. "Okay. That's not so bad. He just said goodbye. He was just calling to check in."
"He kissed me."
She starts to cry. I'm too numb to join her.
"Oh, Katniss. I don't want this for you," she moves over to squeeze on my other side on the sofa. "We have to figure this out. You can't end up like Amaranth."
"I don't know what to do, Mom," I whisper. "I can't say no."
Prim starts to whimper, so I pull her to sit on my hap and hug her to me. "It'll be okay," I tell her, not believing it myself. "It will." I rock her back and forth gently.
We sit and watch the camera on the floor.
"What if we take photos of your life here?" Prim says suddenly. "Us, your friends, Gale. Maybe if you show him you have a good life here he'll leave you be."
"How will that help?"
"You said he's nice," Prim says, twisting to look at me. "Maybe he'll understand if you don't want to leave."
"Okay," I sigh wearily. "Let's try anything."
Gale rakes his fingers through his hair nervously. "What should I do? Smile?"
"Just look natural," I tell him as I hoist Posy onto my hip.
"Wot's dat?" she asks, pointing at the camera.
"It's going to take a picture of you."
"Why?"
"'Cause you're so pretty," I tell her, rubbing my nose on her cheek. She squeals and pulls her head away from me.
Hazelle tugs on her dress. "How's this? It's the cleanest thing I have." She holds out her arms so I can see the outfit.
"You look great, Hazelle," my mother tells her.
"It's weird I never heard of this," Gale says, frowning. "I didn't know they made history books for the Victors. Does Haymitch have one?"
"Probably burned it," I brush off, eyeing Prim. I hadn't told her the lie I'd told Gale to get him to agree to this photo. "Are Vick and Rory ready?"
"Where are they?" Hazelle asks herself. She calls back into the house. "Boys! Are you ready?"
Vick appears in the doorway, pulling on the collar of his buttoned shirt. "Why do we have to wear our Reaping clothes today? I hate this shirt."
"It's for Katniss' history book, you should be honored she asked you," his mother scolds. "Rory, fix your hair. Gale, come here."
I stifle a giggle as she licks her thumb and goes after a smudge of coal dust on Gale's chin. "Ugh, Mom! Stop that, I can take care of it!"
"Then do it! I don't want the only photo of my boys to make them look like urchins."
My laugh escapes me and he glares at me.
"Okay, settle down and sit on the porch steps," my mother directs, fiddling with the camera. I sit down and place Posy in my lap. Gale sits next to me and Vick and Rory line up awkwardly behind us.
"Relax, you guys," I grin over my shoulder. "It's not going to hurt."
"I look stupid," Rory says, stubbing his shoe on the wooden slats.
"The photo doesn't have anything to do with that," Gale jokes. Rory pushes Gale's shoulder as Vick laughs harder. I'm laughing at them scuffle on the porch when I see my mother pressing the button.
"Oh no! Why did you photograph that?" I moan. "We were a mess."
"You looked happy," she says quietly. I catch myself for a moment and then nod with a thankful smile. "Okay, one more."
Hazelle settles the boys down and we take a simple photo where we all face the camera, but I already have the photo I want Peeta to see.
We take another photo of me teaching Posy a nursery rhyme and another of Rory dancing with Prim before we walk over to the mayor's house. Madge smiles as she opens the door. She's dressed in a white dress with a blue sash tied around her waist and a matching blue ribbon hold her hair back from her face.
"I'm nervous," she confesses as she closes the door behind us and leads me to the parlor with the piano. "I haven't had my photo taken since Father was made mayor."
"You just have to smile, Madge," I assure her. "It's nothing big. Just a little entry in a history book."
"Still, it's history," she breathes. "It's been so long since we had a Victor even Father can't remember the books. You're a legend," she blushes.
I cough nervously and walk hurriedly into the parlor.
My mother arranges her and me at the piano and takes a few pictures as Madge tries to teach me to play a simple song. I'm terrible and very glad the photos can't convey the cacophony we create as we try to both strike the keys. Prim is crying with laughter by the time we're halfway through the song, and I nod to my mother to get photos of her joy. I want him to see how much I love my sister.
I squeeze Prim's hand as we walk home that afternoon, feeling better about the day. There are at least two dozen photos on the camera now. My life is documented; my friends and family are here and I belong here. I'm cheerful and hopeful. He is kind. He will understand.
"Oh!" I realize. "We forgot the dandelions."
My mother frowns and looks at the sky. "It's getting late."
"Not so late," I tell her. "It's what he asked for, I should do it."
"I can go, Mom," says Prim. "I'll take the photo. You should check home to see if anyone needs you."
My mother considers and then accepts. She smoothes my hair and looks me in the eye. "Just remember your goal," she reminds me and leaves us.
Prim and I cross the town together, drawing stares in our Reaping clothes. I didn't want to wear any of Cinna's Capital creations; I wanted to look like me. We reach the meadow as the sun casts golden orange beams down on us.
"It's so beautiful," Prim breathes. "I can see why he'd want to see this."
"They don't have dandelions in the Capital anymore," I tell her. "He has the botanist grow them special."
"He must miss her mother a lot."
Her thoughtfulness is always surprising me. She's so much wiser than her years. I leave her the camera and walk a few steps into the field. "What should I do?"
"Sit down by that cluster of puffs," she instructs, pointing to a bed of white headed dandelions with a few late blooming yellow flowers peeking through. I do as she says.
"Wait a moment," I say as she raises the glass eye. I reach into my dress pocket and pull out the dandelion pin I'd hidden there this morning. I fasten it to my dress and check to make sure it's straight. Prim watches me with a serious face.
"Do you think I shouldn't wear it?" I ask her, running my fingers over the pin. "I can't tell if I should or not."
"I think he'd be happy to see you wearing it," she answers slowly. I know her meaning: that it is both a good and a terrible thing.
I sigh and let my hands drop to the bed of little white clouds. I pluck a puff and twirl it in my fingers. I gently blow on the flower and it bursts into a million helicopters on the breeze. I raise my face into the sun as I watch I watch them drift away up high in the air.
I hear the shutter snap at Prim takes the photo.
I don't know how to make pictures from the camera, so I wrap the camera back in its box when we arrive home for supper. The next day I will take it to the train station and send it back. I wish I could have some of the pictures, especially Prim and Gale, but I don't dare include a note with the package. This communication needs to end now.
"Katniss. Wake up. Katniss!"
"Rue!" I sit up at the feel of her small hands beseeching me to help her. I stare at Prim's sad blue eyes.
"It's me, Kat. It's Prim."
I look around. I'm in my bed at home instead of the tree of my dream. Rue is gone. Prim is here.
"I'm okay, Prim. It was just a dream."
She nods. "There's a phone call. For you." She doesn't need to tell me who it is.
My palms are sweating as I descend the stairs in my pajamas. My mother is sitting on the loveseat, staring at the phone receiver and chewing her knuckle. Prim follows me halfway down the stairs and then sits with her face pressed between to posts of the banister. The phone receiver is heavy in my hand.
"Hello?"
"They're amazing." His voice is soft but I can hear he's happy. "Thank you."
"I just thought…you'd want to see life here. My life here."
"It looks wonderful," he says dreamily. "You look so happy there."
"I am happy here," I say firmly, looking to my mother with hope.
"Is the little blond girl your sister?"
I swallow hard. "Yes, that's Primrose."
"She looks like your mother," he says thoughtfully. "And your friends. You're having such a good time with them. I can see they love you very much."
"I love them too," I intone nervously.
"And the dandelion field," he says softly.
"Well, you wanted to see it." I lick my lips. They feel chapped and dry. "It's really beautiful."
"I was going to say you look beautiful."
I choke. "It's just….dandelions."
He laughs. "It's you."
"Um. Thank you." My mother is digging her nails into the sofa cushions. Prim's knuckles are white on the banister.
"Don't mention it. Or as Portia would have it, mention nothing at all."
"Is she there?"
"Yeah," he groans. "She's giving me the evil eye right now."
"Are you not supposed to be calling me?"
"Probably not. They record all my phone calls anyway."
My blood runs cold and I'm furious he didn't share this sooner. "Should we be talking?" I'm hoping this is a good chance to hang up.
"I have a friend from Three who taught me how to jam the signal, don't worry. It loops back as though the phone call never happened."
"Hunh," I mask my misery. "That sounds complicated."
"It's worth it. I'd give anything to sit in the middle of a dandelion field without someone standing over me looking at her watch and telling me to leave you alone."
I imagine Portia standing over him. "Tell her I say hello."
"Katniss says hello."
"Get off the phone," I hear her snap. "Your father is going to be home any minute."
He sighs. "I'm not going to see you until the Victory Tour."
"I guess not."
He stays silent for a long while. "I wish I could see you again. Now."
"I'm sorry we can't," I say, wondering if I'm crossing a line. "I had a good time in the conservatory."
I look up at Prim watching me. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why it hurts that he sounds so lonely. I don't know why I keep thinking of that night in the gardens when I didn't know who he was and laughed as we ran through the flower beds.
My mother stands up and stomps over to the phone. "Hang up," she hisses angrily.
I shrug, confused and angry with myself. "I should let you go," I say. "I don't want you to get into trouble with your father."
"I don't care about getting in trouble."
"I do. For you."
He lets a pause grow after I speak.
I hear him sigh happily. "You were such a wonderful surprise."
The dial tone buzzes in my year.
My mother rips from the receiver from my hand and slams the phone down. "Katniss, what are you doing? Why did you tell him you had a good time?"
"I did!" I cry out. "I don't know why I told him I did, but he is kind and he was good to me and he's lonely there."
"So you want him to drag you off to the Capital to keep him company? To be hidden away to rot?" Her voice breaks. "So you can be locked away until you kill yourself too?"
"He won't do that! He knows I'm happy here!"
"You don't know that! You don't know him!"
"And I guess I never will." I brush by her and run up the stairs past Prim.
I storm into my bedroom and slam the door, throwing myself on my bed. I bury my face in my pillows and scream. I lay on my stomach, letting my head fall to the side and staring at the wall.
"Katniss?"
Prim's small voice is in my door. I flip my head to face her. "Prim." She steps inside. She closes the door behind her and crosses to the bed. She climbs up on the bed and settles herself next to me. She reaches out and runs her fingers across my temple.
"Does Gale know?" she murmurs.
"No."
"Are you going to tell him?"
"How could I? What would I say?"
She takes another pause. "I don't think you should tell him."
"Why do you say that?"
"I think he'd get upset, Katniss. And you know he'd not keep quiet about it."
Gale does have a temper. He's just like me. I think back to his suggestion we run away from this all. How upset I'd been that he wasted time thinking of things like that. Now I wish I'd listened.
"You're right. There's no point. And it's over."