The following week I'm packing up my things and getting ready to leave on my own as usual when Peeta stops me.
"Wait."
I pause and wait for whatever it is I assume he wants to tell me before I go. He puts on his jacket, which I notice is a little thin for the time of year, and his gloves, which I notice have a hole in them over the left index finger. He doesn't seem to have a hat, which makes me wonder how he would look if those ashen curls were hidden. I can't remember ever seeing him in a hat.
"I don't have wrestling today," he says.
"Okay," I shrug, not seeing how that is important enough information to make me wait for him. It gets dark sooner and sooner each day and I can't afford to lose valuable hunting time, especially not during winter. I haven't had a decent meal in forever and it's starting to affect me in more ways than one.
"We're both heading in the same direction," he adds.
"No we're not," I object. We take the same road for about a hundred meters and then he'll turn left and go to the bakery and I'll turn right and walk to the Seam.
"You're going out the door, aren't you?"
I frown and cross my arms over my chest. What, he wants to walk me to the school door? What's the point of that, exactly? But since I can't think of any reason to say no I silently fall in beside him when he heads for the doors. I don't feel at ease walking home from school with him, even if it's just for a hundred meters. We're not friends. What reason could he have to want to walk with me?
A knot forms in my stomach. Lately my mind has been preoccupied with Gale and whether or not he might want more than friendship from me at some point. He has been acting different these past few weeks. With my mind focusing so much on that it's a short leap to wondering if Peeta is after something more than friendship.
I know the very assumption is ludicrous. He's merchant, I'm Seam. He knows next to nothing about me and what little he does know he's learned in the past few weeks of doing the project and mostly consists of me having bad people skills. It's easy to see his wretch of a mother would have a stroke if he had any serious designs on me and I don't think Peeta would be prepared to face that wrath unless he felt very strongly about someone. Which he doesn't about me. He doesn't know me well enough for that. Which brings me to only two conclusions. Either he's out to defy his mother and date someone, anyone, from the part of the district she seems to have so much contempt for and I would be nothing more than the means to an end. Or he's after something else entirely. Something people our age usually have to go to the slag heap if they want to engage in.
That thought fills me with anger. I've heard the talk among some of the kids from town - truthfully never from Peeta but I wouldn't be surprised if he had the same desires as most other teenaged boys. I know some of the boys from town think that Seam girls are good for some slag heap fun but town girls are for marriage. Some of them aren't even bothering to be discreet about it. The thought of it is degrading and the idea that Peeta might operate like that does not sit well with me. By the time we reach the doors I'm irrationally furious with him. He hasn't said a word while we've walked, hasn't made a move to hold my hand or touch me in any way, but I still give him a scowl and a snort for holding the door open for me. He looks surprised but doesn't comment. The moment we're outside I turn on my heel and glare at him.
"I have to go get Prim."
"Prim? Wouldn't her classes have ended an hour ago?"
"I have to go get Prim," I say again, harsher this time.
He looks confused and a little hurt by the sudden coldness in my tone but he doesn't try to argue the point. He sticks his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Making a point to keep at least two meters between us I walk in a big semi-circle past him and go back inside the building, heading in the opposite direction of all the other students. Once inside I stop and wonder how long he will be out there and for how long I will have to stay in here until I can safely walk those one hundred meters without the risk of him still being nearby.
Suddenly it hits me how irrational I'm being. Peeta hasn't made any moves on me. The most he's done is smile at me and tease me a little but he seems to do that with everyone. He never bothers me outside of when we're doing the project. I have no reason to think he wants to get closer to me than he is when we're at that table. He's never tried to bridge the physical gap between us when we're sitting there, always allowing me an empty chair between us. Why would he even want to have anything physical to do with a bony, haggard Seam girl like myself when he's got pretty, curvier merchant girls around him? He's a nice person and I'm being anything but nice to him. My issues are with Gale, and not even really with him either. At this point nobody has expressed any interest in being anything more than friends with me and for all I know nobody ever will. This is all about my own fears and issues and nothing more than that. My fears, and the fact that I haven't eaten properly in a while and my mind is starting to behave in odd ways. Feeling very sheepish I walk outside again, almost hoping that Peeta will still be around so I can at least behave like a decent person around him before we part ways. And he is still around. He's made it halfway across the school yard and has stopped to tie his shoelaces. Slowly I walk up to him and stop beside him.
"Hi," I say sheepishly.
He looks up.
"Hi," he says, sounding surprised. He rises to standing and adjusts his backpack. "Where's your sister?"
My cheeks turn red and I avert my eyes. Lying has never been my strong suit so how am I going to get myself out of this one?
"Doesn't matter," I reply after a moment.
"Okay." He looks at me for a second. "I'm heading home."
"Me too."
"If you don't want to walk the next hundred meters with me you don't have to. I'll go first or you'll go first, whatever works best for you."
The hint of a smile crosses my lips. For whatever reason he seems to have decided he won't call me out on my irrational behaviour and my rudeness. I can't imagine why but I'm grateful. I'm still focusing my eyes on the ground, my foot drawing a circular pattern on the gravel, my mind searching for the right words.
"No it's fine," I say after a moment.
"Okay. Well... I have to get going, so..."
"Okay," I nod.
He begins to walk and I fall in beside him, keeping about two feet of space between our bodies though I'm not sure if it's for my own comfort or because I still feel a bit ridiculous. He doesn't say anything and I like the silence, like how easy and undemanding and accepting it is. I want to apologise to him for my behaviour just now but calling attention to it seems like it would only make it seem like a bigger deal than it was. He seems willing to ignore the whole thing so I might as well play along. So I just walk, trying not to let my mind run wild with me and get me into further embarrassments today. When the hundred meters are up and we reach the part where we go in different directions we both stop and look at each other. Peeta's hands are back in his pockets; the top of his ears and the tip of his nose are looking red. It's cold out, a degree or two below freezing. I don't mind being cold, to me it's a natural part of being out hunting for food and it's a price I am very willing to pay. Peeta doesn't look quite as comfortable; I can see him shivering where he stands. I think of the heat that always seems to hit like a wall when the door to the bakery's kitchen opens and I surmise that a person who spends so much time in that heat, around those ovens, doesn't take as well to lower temperatures.
"I'll see you next week," I say when we have stood there looking at each other for several seconds.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he replies.
Sunday morning Gale is out in our glade when I arrive. His demeanour is different today. Instead of being full of warm smiles and long looks he just gives me a short glance in greeting and seems sullen and irritable. I don't pay much attention to it at first. It's not unusual for Gale to come out into the woods full of anger and resentment towards the Capitol and those days usually entail him sulking in silence for the first hour or two and then raging for a while before calming down and becoming his usual self. I assume he's as hungry and weary as I am and given my own strange moods lately I can't fault him for feeling less than stellar. I take my seat next to him and fish out a small blanket from my bag, wrapping it around myself while I wait for him to proceed past the sulking stage.
He's quiet for about half an hour, then he finally looks at me again.
"How's the project going?"
This time he's not sounding amused or in high spirits like in the past weeks when he's asked me this question. He sounds angry and I can't help but wonder how he's managed to tie the project in with Capitol oppression but no doubt I'm about to hear the full story.
"Going good," I say. "It's boring."
There's a pause.
"Is all of it boring?"
"Yes," I answer with a frown. "What does that mean?"
"You seem to be having a good enough time with your partner."
"I am?"
He pauses for a second.
"Thom got hurt in the mines on Monday and I was sent to take him home and then go straight back." He glares at me again with an almost accusatory look on his face. "While I was heading back to the mines I saw you and the baker's kid together."
"Is Thom alright?"
"Yes, of course he's alright. A concussion, nothing particularly serious." He shifts a little on the log, facing me a bit more. "The two of you seemed very comfortable in each other's company."
"Maybe," I say, wondering why that's the focus of this conversation. I don't remember that we seemed very comfortable but it wasn't uncomfortable either. "Why? What does that matter?"
"Are you going to go out with him?"
The question is so sudden, even with my own thoughts last Monday, that I burst out laughing.
"Come on, Gale. Of course not."
He doesn't seem placated.
"So you're not... interested in him?"
"No. What-"
I'm silenced by his lips pressed against mine. My eyes go wide but I notice that Gale's are closed. His lips stay against mine for a second or two and then he pulls back and opens his eyes to look at me. He looks expectant and I'm far too aware of what it is he's expecting. It's something I'm not at all sure that I want. I look away and wipe my lips with my blanket even though there was nothing wet about the kiss. Just his dry lips on mine.
"Good," he finally says, an unusual warmth in his voice. "That you're not interested in him. Because I'm interested in you."
So there it is. He really does want to be more than just friends with me. He, like my mother and sister, apparently sees it as the natural progression of our relationship. Has he felt this way for long? Does he believe that I feel the same way too? Does he not know my stance on marriage? I feel a knot tightening in my stomach.
"Gale, I..."
"Please, Katniss. Let me just say this, alright?"
I nod, not knowing what else to do. Feeling self-conscious and vulnerable I wrap the blanket tighter around my upper body. I fervently wish that this conversation would be over, that it had never begun. Not because the idea of dating Gale is terrible in itself but because the idea of dating at all – or at least what dating eventually might lead to – is frightening to me.
"Katniss for a long time now I have felt strongly about you. More than just friendship. I think you're quite aware."
No, I wasn't aware. What does "a long time" mean? And feeling strongly, what exactly does that mean? Gale doesn't seem to pick up on my hesitation because he continues without pause, his hand landing right next to mine on the log we're sitting on.
"What you and I have is special. We're a team, a unit. I've been holding back my feelings over the past few years because you've still been in school and you're not clear of the reapings yet."
"I'm still not," I point out.
"You will be. Soon. You will be an adult and we can finally start to explore the full potential of what we can be together."
"A week ago you said I was still a kid. But Gale..."
"Look, I know you're hesitant. I know you're scared. You have every right to be. But this is me. Nobody else knows you better than I do. Nobody else understands you better than I do. I can read you like an open book, I know how you'll react in any given situation and, most importantly, I know you'll have my back no matter what because we're a team. As friends we're already great. Just think of how amazing we could be as lovers."
I don't want to think about it. I just want to head out into the woods and then go home again with meat in my game bag and I want to come back to this glade in a week and know that the same old Gale will be here waiting, without any expectations other than that we keep on doing what we've been doing for the past six years.
"Gale you know I don't want a relationship," I manage to say.
"No, you don't want a marriage."
"Well one usually leads to the other."
"Katniss I'm in no hurry." I finally meet his eyes and he smiles warmly at me, his face flush with an emotion I know I've never felt. It's strange seeing it in him when I've known him so well for so long and never encountered it before. "Right now you're still in school and you still have one more reaping looming. You're not even old enough to get married yet. But I think it's time that our relationship progressed to the next level."
"Gale I don't know that I'm ready."
As soon as the words leave my mouth I know they're a mistake. It's not a rejection, it's a promise. I'm not ready now; I will be someday. That's exactly what it sounds like and exactly what Gale seems to read into it. He nods slowly, brimming over with understanding. He puts his hand over mine and the gesture is so new, so intimate. It makes me want to pull my hand back.
"Take your time, Catnip. I think we both know what we have here. If all you need is a little time then I will gladly give it to you."
I swallow hard, feeling miserable. There is no going back now. Gale has kissed me and made his intentions clear and from now on we can never be just two best friends again. There will always be something else between us, even if nothing further ever happens. Maybe he's right. Maybe we could be amazing together. I just don't feel like I want that, not when the scenario undoubtedly would include the two of us being parents together at a reaping, and I can't see any way for this to end other than with misery and the loss of something special between us. It would be impossible for us to date for a while and then go back to being friends and it would be equally impossible for us to eventually have a toasting. It doesn't seem like there's any way we "win".
"Gale I never want to get married," I say, hoping he will understand that no matter what might happen between us it will never go as far as matrimony.
"You might be surprised," says Gale with a warm chuckle. "I am well aware that you don't want it now but as time goes on I think you'll realize that you do want to get married, under the right circumstances."
"No I'm very sure I won't."
"Well we'll figure it out. The important thing right now isn't whether or not we have a toasting. I simply think that together our lives would be better."
"I don't love you like that," I blurt out.
"Have you really thought about it, though? I know you, Catnip. I know you might not admit feeling that way very easily, even to yourself. I know you have so many other things on your mind. There's no rush. Not with any of it – especially marriage. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to get married either when you turn nineteen. Frankly I have nothing against just dating for a while first, figuring things out as we go along. What I do have faith in is that what we have now is going to keep growing until we're both there. And when we both are, Katniss, it's going to be so amazing."
What we have now? What we have right now is friendship, albeit a strong one. Gale might feel more than that for me but I can only say for sure that he's a dear friend to me. Nothing deeper than that. A friendship like ours is profound enough on its own and I see no need for pushing it beyond what it is. Not with so much at risk.
"What if I don't ever feel that way?" I argue.
"I'm willing to take my chances." The look in his eyes would probably melt many a softer woman. "You're worth the risk."
"Don't say that," I protest, fidgeting where I sit.
"Katniss..." he says, not sounding alarmed. If anything he sounds calm and collected. "This is us. We're so alike, you and I. Perfect for one another. Meeting you in these woods six years ago was the best thing that ever happened to me and I think you feel the same way too, and I don't mean that in a romantic sense necessarily. Just... take some time and think about it, okay? Think about allowing yourself to have the things you want to deny yourself and think of what that might be like."
I don't have a clue what he means by that so I say nothing. Wanting the conversation to be over I get up on my feet and grab my bow and Gale follows my lead. I can feel his eyes burning in the back of my neck as I head down one of the familiar paths in the forest but he says nothing else for the time being. For the rest of the day we pretend as if the conversation – not to mention the kiss – never took place but I can feel Gale's eyes on me several times and there's definitely something hanging in the air between us. It's the first time I've felt this uncomfortable around him but I don't want our friendship to be damaged by any of this so I pretend that everything is fine.
The question is how long I will be able to go on pretending.
When I get home that afternoon my mother is alone in the kitchen, tying up fresh herbs with small pieces of string to hang them up to dry. Usually Prim helps her out with things like this and I raise a questioning eyebrow as I lay my game bag down on the counter.
"Where's Prim?" I ask, lifting the rabbit we're having for dinner out of the bag.
"One of her friends came by and asked her if she wanted to come out for a while," answers Mother, tying a perfect little knot around the stems of a handful of herbs. "You caught a rabbit? That's great Katniss."
"What friend?" I ask warily. I wasn't aware that Prim had friends she spent time with after school.
"Oh, Mona something..." answers Mother absent-mindedly.
"Mona something?"
"I think it's nice," says Mother in a calm, almost distant tone. "It's good that she has friends."
"Of course it is," I mutter, yet I feel strangely left out. Who is this friend and why hasn't Prim mentioned her to me before?
"She's fourteen years old now," says Mother, giving me a look.
"Yeah? And?"
"She's not going to be your baby sister forever, you know."
"Of course I know that," I reply with irritation.
Mother shrugs a shoulder and continues with her work. I reach inside my game bag and fish out the bag with two fresh loaves of bread, still warm from the oven. As always I take a moment to breathe in deeply and fill my nose with the lovely scent. My stomach growls painfully and my mouth waters. It's been a while since we've had enough success in the woods to be able to trade for bread.
I didn't see Peeta today at the bakery. I don't always do but more often than not he tends to be in the kitchen when I arrive. Now that I think about it, it's almost like a habit for me to take a quick glance and see if he's there or not. If he is he will glance over at me as well and our eyes will meet for a brief second. I've never given it any thought before. It just seems like a natural thing to do. We've been going to school together since we were five, of course we would acknowledge each other in a situation like that. It never goes beyond sharing a look. He's never spoken to me at the bakery.
I wonder where he was today and what he was doing. Does he ever get Sundays off? If so, what does he do? Is he out with his friends, like Prim? Is he out with some girl, the way many people our age go on dates on Saturdays and Sundays? I quickly discard the thought. How is it any of my business anyway if Peeta is out on a date? Though I do wonder who he would be out with. It can't be one of our classmates since if he's interested in one of those girls he would have asked her to partner with him, and not me. Does he have his eye on some girl a year or two younger, or a year or two older? No doubt he would be able to get a date with almost any girl in town. Everyone seems to want to be his friend so why shouldn't most girls want to be his date?
"How was your day in the woods?" Mother suddenly asks, taking my mind off Peeta and the bakery and back at what happened this morning.
"Oh. It was... fine."
"Fine? You brought home a rabbit and bread. You must have had luck hunting?"
"It was alright," I say evasively. "Three rabbits, five squirrels..."
"Sounds more than just alright. How's Gale?"
Immediately I'm on the defensive.
"What about Gale?"
She pauses and looks at me.
"No need for that tone," she mildly chastises me. "I was just wondering how he's doing these days. Why do you get upset?"
"You've never bothered to ask how he's doing before," I mutter.
She gives me a funny look but thankfully lets it drop. I get to work skinning the rabbit, not failing to notice how they are getting more meagre already, taking my frustration out on the task at hand. A few times my mother looks up from her own task when I give a particularly forceful tug but she doesn't comment. If she did I wouldn't answer her anyway. What's it to her how Gale is doing or what he and I talked about in the woods today?
After I'm done with the rabbit I leave it up to my mother to make a decent meal out of it and I go change into other clothes. I take a seat on the couch with one of the few books we have in the house but I'm only pretending to read so that Mother will leave me alone. I can't stop thinking about how it was out in the woods today and how everything has now irrevocably changed. It never crossed my mind until recently that Gale might have such feelings for me. He's right in that we're a great team and complete each other well but I've never thought of it as being anything more than great friends and hunting partners. Of course I've always been aware that he's a guy and I'm a girl, and that he's a particularly handsome specimen of guy at that, but I never saw that as meaning that something romantic had to develop between us. Perhaps Gale is right and I never saw it because I was determined not to get married at all and thus never really looked. If he is right, does that mean I will start to see things differently now?
I think I love Gale. I probably do. After all these years of being each other's closest friend how could I not? What I don't know is how deep those feelings go or what kind of love it is. I didn't feel much of anything when he kissed me but perhaps that is normal when you're taken that much by surprise? Can I grow to love him romantically, the way he seems confident that I will? Do I already love him like that on some level? I wish I had somebody to talk to and help me make sense of all this but Prim is too young to understand and my mother is a definite dead end. Madge is the only female friend I've got, the only friend I've got at all except Gale, but we never talk about boys and love and that sort of thing. It's clear that I'm left entirely to myself to get a grip on this mess.
When Prim comes home an hour later Mother is just about finished with supper. My sister looks happy from her pleasant afternoon and from the sight of a proper meal cooking. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are bright and thankfully she doesn't notice that my state of mind is somewhat more jumbled. At the table she tells us all about her day with Mona, which seems to have consisted mainly of talking and playing card games but all the same she apparently had a great time. About halfway through the meal she mentions that Mona confided in her about a boy she likes and that gets my attention.
"Prim," my mother says in a mild chastise. "If Mona told you this in confidence you shouldn't be telling us about it."
"You don't know who he is anyway," says Prim. "I haven't told you his name."
"All the same you promised her not to tell anyone."
Prim looks a little disgruntled but quickly moves on to tell us about something else they talked about. My mind remains stuck on how they talked about boys. Apparently she thought it was great fun to talk about. Wasn't it just a week ago she mostly seemed to care about Buttercup and her goat and helping our mother dry and preserve herbs? Now she's got boys on her mind? She's fourteen and apparently starting to think about things like that. I'm seventeen and I was completely blindsided today. I've never thought much about boys at all. They're something of a parenthesis in my mind. How can my three and a half years younger sister be getting to that stage in life already?
Quietly I shove another bite in my mouth and pretend to listen to Prim's story about some new card game they played today. I've known all along that she would grow up some day but I really hadn't expected it to happen this soon. Fourteen seems way too young to start thinking about those kind of things. What is the rush? I don't think my sister shares my conviction to never get married and have children, which in itself isn't a negative. Thankfully I think Prim doesn't see problems such as how to feed and clothe them and she doesn't seem to give much thought to how they would one day stand there at the reaping. Or if she does she might be braver than I am and willing to take the risk. I could be wrong, maybe she never intends to have a family of her own, but that thought saddens me a little. I want her to have everything she wants in life and not have to hold back because she's afraid. I'm just not ready for the process to start so soon. I wish for her to continue to be my kid sister for a while longer, at least until she's past reaping age. If she does eventually find somebody and move out to live with her husband that will leave me and our mother alone together in this house. I can't even imagine what that would be like. Our relationship is lukewarm at best and even without everything that happened after my father died we're just not very much alike and I often find we don't have a lot to talk about. Living here alone with her would be strange and awkward. Gale would no doubt gladly offer to toast some bread with me and get us a house of our own based on what he said today but would I really want that?
I'm spending time at school on a project that is meant to prepare us for our futures but have I actually given my own any honest thought?
These thoughts are still on my mind the following day when Peeta and I sit down at our table to start on the second part of our project. Mr. Stoker just gave us an envelope containing our next scenario. This part is supposed to symbolise a second year of marriage and include things like babies and possible financial troubles and whatnot, most of it randomized so that each pair gets a different "future". I do believe however that all of us will have children thrown into the mix at some point so we can argue over how to raise them and trouble our minds with how to feed them and keep them clothed. Sadly it is not at all uncommon for a young couple to have their first child within a year after getting married, which is another reason why I'm adamantly against committing myself to somebody that way. I can't even think about having Gale's baby or my cheeks will burn red and I will feel horribly uncomfortable. I've never seen myself as a mother and while Gale is the perfect hunting partner I can't quite picture the two of us taking care of an infant together. It's too intimate. I can't even picture myself walking around with my hands resting on an expanding belly, not without chills running down my spine. I hope mine and Peeta's scenario won't include children for a while yet, or preferably not at all. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that they'd let one or more couples be barren to see how a situation like that would be handled. I for one would be relieved but I suppose one can't write that in one's school project.
"Okay, so here we go," says Peeta with what I presume is feigned excitement. Unless he's just relieved we've gone over our last toasting detail.
"Let's just get it over with," I sigh and reach for the envelope.
"You mean you're not excited to find out if we have any bundles of joy in our second year of matrimony?" asks Peeta, a light teasing tone in his voice.
"I don't care," I say shrugging my shoulder, not holding on to any actual hope that our scenario will include infertility. "I just think it's stupid that they automatically assume everyone is going to have kids."
"Good point," says Peeta.
My fingers halt as they're about to open the envelope.
"You're not looking forward to having kids?" I ask.
"I don't know," he shrugs.
"That's... quite a big topic to say 'don't know' about," I point out.
"Well, I mean..." he begins, then he trails off.
"You're eighteen and not really thinking about having children yet?" I suggest, offering him an out since I can tell he's uncomfortable and I, probably better than anyone, can understand feeling reluctant about this topic.
"I love kids. In theory I wouldn't mind having two or three or four of them."
"This is in theory," I point out, keeping my tone friendly. I tilt my head a little and study him with a new interest. "Why only in theory, though?" I realize what a deeply personal question I just asked and I'm about to apologise when he gives me the answer without hesitation.
"Well, at the risk of saying something inappropriate... I think I'd love my kids too much." He keeps his voice low and leans in over the table to get closer to me so that I can hear him. "What I mean is, I... don't want to be a parent at Reaping. If the right girl would end up marrying me I would love for us to have children but we live in a world with not only poverty and starvation but the Hunger Games, and I'm not so sure procreating is a good idea. At least not for me."
Slowly I let my hands holding the envelope sink back to the table. I would have never expected to hear something like this from a merchant kid. In fact I wouldn't have expected to hear it from anyone. I thought I was one of very few who thought like that. Even if I wasn't I hadn't expected anyone to dare say it out loud, even if Peeta's voice is barely more than a whisper and I have to lean closer too to hear him.
"But you seem to be open to marriage," I whisper back, not quite making sense of the mixed signals I'm getting from him on this.
"Yeah," he nods. He runs a hand through his hair, his pinkie finger catching on one of the curls. He tugs on it and makes a face. "Marriage doesn't have to equal children, though."
"Uh, it does," I say.
"They ration condoms but they're still available, Katniss," says Peeta matter-of-factly. "Not to mention there are several others methods of contraception."
I feel my cheeks flush heatedly. I've never heard anyone my age so openly refer to sex and to hear it coming from a boy, especially one who is currently my make-believe husband, makes me feel almost scandalized. Not because procreation per se embarrasses me but because it's not something I've given much thought to and never something I've considered engaging in. What other people do behind closed doors, or at the slag heap, is entirely their business and I feel no need to know any details. I especially don't feel the need to know any thoughts my classmate might have about sex or contraception.
"Peeta!" I exclaim. "Geez, do you have to talk about that?"
"Sorry," he shrugs, not sounding the least bit sorry. He then lowers his voice again to keep the meaty part of the conversation private. "I'm just saying, some couples get married but opt not to have children."
"Not in the Seam they don't," I blurt out.
"You don't have access to condoms in the Seam? I thought the point of having condoms available was to avoid their manual labourers dying from STDs."
"Peeta!" I hiss. "Is this necessary to talk about?"
"Oh come on," he chuckles. "You're that innocent?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I ask defensively, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest.
"I'm sorry," he says, still with a light chuckle but the hint of a cringe on his face. "If talking about sex makes you uncomfortable then I shouldn't talk about it."
I am uncomfortable. I am very uncomfortable. I am also very tired of feeling uncomfortable and I don't appreciate him laughing at me and calling me innocent as if that's a bad thing to be. Giving him a deep scowl I try my best to show how beneath me I find this whole discussion to be.
"I just think it's an asinine thing to discuss. We're not twelve. We're supposed to be working on our project."
"And I think preparing for procreation, in a sense, is part of what this is all about," he retorts. "I also think people our age are much more interested in this topic than twelve year-olds."
"Well some of us have more important things to think about."
"True, I guess. It's also true, though, that the urge to have sex is powerful."
"Well, I think talking about..." I hesitate before I even say the word. "Condoms... Is inappropriate right now."
"Really? Why?"
"I thought you said you would drop the subject," I snarl, unable to think of a response and feeling increasingly flustered.
"You're the one who keeps talking about it."
"I have to go to the bathroom," I say icily and rise from my seat, needing a moment away from him before I end up really angry.
"Okay..." he says, a shift in his blue eyes. The amused look is completely gone from his face by now. "Look, before you go, just... I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't know you would be this uncomfortable talking about it."
Now he sounds serious and understanding and that irritates me even further for some reason. Without responding I turn on my heel and march in the direction of the bathrooms, feeling his eyes on me as I go. Great, now he thinks I'm a total freak. How the hell did we even end up talking about sex in the first place? I've never talked to anyone about sex, except for one very uncomfortable conversation initiated by my mother about a year and a half ago. It's not something I feel inclined to talk about at all and he just blurts it out so casually like it's no big deal whatsoever.
I reach the bathroom and walk right up to the sink, leaning over to splash cold water on my face. I look up at my own reflection, sighing at how thin I look and how sunken in my eyes appear to be, my mirror image a constant reminder that I rarely eat as well as I ought to. For once, though, thoughts of sex and sexuality manage to win out over thoughts of hunger and sustenance. Perhaps it is no big deal to Peeta. Perhaps he's already had sex. He's had three girlfriends after all; at least one of them must have been willing to take it to that level. Especially if merchant people have access to birth control and sex seems to be less of a big deal among people from town.
I stop for a moment and think about that. Peeta and one of his girlfriends, having sex. I don't exactly know how it all goes down even if I'm quite familiar with the basics of mating. I've taken Prim's goat to get pregnant once and they give us a very basic rundown in biology class and then there's that talk with my mother. Those bits of experience are miles away from the actual thing between two people and I can't quite picture it in my head. How would the man be on top of the woman without weighing down too heavily on her? How does she breathe with his weight on her chest? How can it be at all pleasant when it just sounds painful and intrusive?
Realizing suddenly that I'm trying to picture the boy with the bread doing that with the last girl he dated sends a shudder through me, embarrassment flowing through my veins. What is the matter with me? What business is it of mine anyway if he has sex or is okay talking about it? Any business of mine or not it makes me uncomfortable to picture him with some girl, no clothes on, tangled together. My hands have a tight grip on the edge of the sink and I slowly let go of it and straighten my back. I sigh heavily and decide that even though turning eighteen means I'll soon be free of the reapings I hate having to grow up. Things were so much easier when I didn't have to think of Gale in terms of romantic interest or not and when I wasn't imagining my classmate and project partner in bed, having sex with one of my other classmates.
I know I've been gone for about five minutes by now and I need to get back out there. I just don't know how I can go back to that table, sit down next to the boy with the bread and open an envelope to find out whether or not our teachers think we'd end up having a baby within a year if we got married. It might have been okay after the argument-of-sorts we just had but not now when I've tried to picture him in the process of making babies. It's almost as if I've seen him undressed for real and not just in my mind, even though what I pictured in my head included nothing graphic. I don't even know what a boy looks like when he's, well, in an excited state, so I couldn't very well picture Peeta like that. Even so I can't help a deep red blush from colouring my cheeks. Seriously, what business is it of mine what he may look like when aroused? I feel as if I'm invading his privacy in a terrible way by merely imagining it and the thought of sitting back down at the table with him and looking him in the eye is a little intimidating. I feel as if he would be able to tell what thoughts have been in my mind and I would want to die from embarrassment if he actually did know. It takes another couple of minutes for me to decide what to do. I can't go back out there and pretend like nothing happened. I know it's just procrastinating but it can't be helped. I've had more than my share of emotional difficulties for this week and I can't sit through the rest of this hour with him under these circumstances. I walk back out and find Peeta anxiously waiting for my return. He hasn't touched the envelope and looks concerned. I can see the heel of his right foot tapping rapidly against the floor and he drums his pencil against his hand in a nervous manner. He notices me and the drumming stops and he shifts in his chair, sitting a bit more straight, the look on his face is apologetic.
"Katniss..." he begins but I cut him off.
"I'm not feeling well." My tone is blunt, hopefully concealing the real thoughts running through my head. "I don't think I can continue today. Do you mind if we postpone it?"
"Katniss I'm sorry," he says, sounding stressed. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I was a pig, I'm sorry."
"No," I say, shaking my head. He wasn't a pig. He didn't really say or do anything that would upset most other people or that could be considered inappropriate. In all likelihood he's right; I am too innocent. An innocent prude with no understanding of how love works, judging by my reactions and emotions lately. "No it's not that. It's... other stuff."
He doesn't seem the slightest bit convinced.
"Are you sure? Because really, I-"
"No it's fine," I cut him off. His eyes go to the envelope and I realize that we're not going to be able to finish this assignment on time if we don't do any work at all today. We're already over twenty minutes behind schedule as it is. "We can meet up later this week and do the work then."
"Really? That's okay with you?"
No, not really. I don't want to waste hunting time on this and I would much rather just forget all about the work and not have to deal with this project again. If it were just up to me I might but there are other people to take into consideration. I need the best grades I can get if I'm going to get a job anywhere else but the mines and Prim and Mother depend on that. There's also Peeta and I can't let him down.
"Yeah it's fine," I say, trying not to show my discomfort.
"Okay, well..." He reaches inside his bag and fishes out what looks like a calendar. "Which day works for you? I have wrestling on Wednesday and Thursday, and Friday and Saturday I have to work at the bakery."
I try not to groan out loud. I have promised Prim we'd go and buy her new gloves tomorrow for the money I earned selling the rabbit yesterday. It's getting colder outside and she really can't wait any longer to get them. This means I'll have to sacrifice Sunday, or at least parts of it.
"It will have to be Sunday, then," I say, trying not to show how displeased I am.
"Okay," he nods eagerly. "So, uhm... Where?"
"My house." I'm not sure I'm comfortable inviting him into my home when not even Madge has visited me there but if the other option is going to his home and possibly running into his mother I think I prefer letting him come to me.
His eyebrows go up in a surprised expression. I can't help but feel insecure. Are there public places where we could meet and do school work on a Sunday? If so I can't think of them right now but I hope Peeta doesn't think it's too weird that I just invited him to my home. Maybe he just doesn't want to spend a few hours in the Seam, especially on account of a girl who is flaking on him right now.
"Your house," he nods.
"If that's okay with you," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady and sound confident.
"Yeah, it's fine," he nods quickly. He scribbles it down and puts his calendar back in his bag. "Just, uh, I'm not exactly sure where you live."
"Oh. Right."
I walk up to him and lean over the table, jotting the address down on the first open page in his notebook. I realize I'm standing in very close proximity to him but he doesn't say or do anything to suggest he finds it strange or uncomfortable. Once the address has been written down I put the pen down and share a look with him before I pull back again.
"I'll see you Sunday, then," he says. "Well, tomorrow, too."
"See you Sunday."
Halfway home I realize he didn't thank me for the day.
A few closing comments:
Katniss' behaviour in the first scene is quite off, I know. I allude to it in the text but the reason why I had her acting irrationally like that is the combination of hunger and emotional stress. Not that she's the only one acting less than perfectly in this chapter...
I purpousely wrote Gale as not being all too smoothe here because I figure he'd be a bit nervous while also excited. He's been having these feelings for two years or so by this point and has been waiting for the right time so it felt right that he should be less than stellar in his approach. Also, like Katniss he hasn't eaten properly in a while. He's probably been going over what to say several times, anticipating any hesitations or concerns she might have, and tried to come up with the best thing to say in response. That he comes on a bit strong is meant to be more a result of that than anything else. I hope he doesn't come off as unsympathetic.
Then there's the sex talk between Katniss and Peeta. I hope he didn't come off as a jerk or that she came off as too naïve. He caught her at a bad time with the topic and misread the mood. Also I think he's a bit nervous bringing up the topic of sex with the girl he's had a crush on for so long.
While I don't explicitly state it in the text (not yet at least) I put the age of legal adulthood (consequently also the age you can get married) at nineteen. I've done so for previous stories I've written and saw no reason to change it here. I chose nineteen because when Panemians (or whatever they're called) hit that age they become too old to be reaped and thus it seemed appropriate that one's nineteenth birthday would signify reaching legal adulthood and being able to get married.
As far as the exact ages of the characters, I don't believe Suzanne Collins has ever stated their dates of birth with the exception of Katniss. IMDB has Peeta's birthday being in October and while I have no idea where they got that information it's a date as good as any so I'm using that. This would have him born in the year before Katniss, seeing as how they're both sixteen when they are reaped. Presumably then kids in Panem (or at least District 12) start school based not on their year of birth but having kids of the same reaping age in the same class. For Prim, I put her at 3 ½ years younger than Katniss instead of four, since she might as well be. This would mean she was thirteen at the last reaping in this story and Katniss was seventeen; now Prim has turned fourteen but Katniss won't be eighteen until May. This isn't really super important but in case someone is wondering...
Hm, I think that's all I was planning on commenting on... Thanks for reading, I hope it was entertaining.