This chapter ended up being far too long so I decided to split it into two. Which means another update will probably follow shortly.
I spend the rest of the week trying to figure out if I'm relieved that I have a good excuse not to meet up with Gale on Sunday or if I'm annoyed and nervous about Peeta coming over to do school stuff on my hunting day. I lean more towards the former. I know I can go hunt on Saturday and truth be told I'm not looking forward to seeing Gale. I'm scared that things might be weird between us and I'm not sure I can handle that. For a long time he has been one thing I can count on not to be weird or uncomfortable and it's unsettling to me that this won't be the case the next time we see one another. Briefly I wonder what he will think if he comes out to our glade and I'm not there but I figure it might not be so bad. It might even benefit me if it makes him draw the conclusion that discussing a possible romance between us is not the best thing right now.
Prim's face bursts into a wide grin when she hears that a classmate of mine is coming over on Sunday. Or rather, when she hears that a boy classmate of mine is coming over. The only boy who's ever come over to visit me is Gale and up until now he hasn't counted as a "boy" in that sense. Not that Peeta does either. He is a classmate coming over to do homework, not some suitor coming over to woo me. Judging by Prim's reaction though you'd think this particular classmate was coming over to have an impromptu toasting.
"So is he cute?" she asks, flopping down on the bed on Friday afternoon, resting her chin in her hand.
"What?"
"Is he cute?" she asks again in a tone that implies I'm a bit on the slow side.
"He's…" I begin, not at all sure how to answer the question so I end up giving more of a mathematician's answer. "Peeta Mellark. You know, one of the baker's sons?"
"Yeah those guys are cute enough," says my baby sister in a tone like she's appraising them in her mind. "The curly hair looks a bit silly on a grown man but I guess technically your husband isn't fully grown yet."
"He's not my husband," I say in a tone far more cold than I normally use with Prim, though she doesn't seem to notice.
"Whatever. You know what I mean." She looks thoughtful for a moment and then grins. "Yeah Peeta is cute. You could do worse."
"He's too old for you," I protest, slightly horrified that my fourteen year-old sister is appraising the physical appearance of a guy who turned eighteen not long ago.
"Yeah," she scoffs. "I said you could do worse." She tilts her head and gives me a pensive look. "In all seriousness Katniss, don't you ever think about boys? As boys, I mean, and not just project partners or hunting partners?"
"Sure I do," I mutter, the lie sounding almost natural because it comes off like bashfulness rather than insincerity. She is used to me not wanting to talk about matters of the heart so that helps. "Just not the ones that are my hunting partner or project partner."
"Why not?" she asks. "Just because you know them as friends doesn't mean you can't like them on a different level. Come on, Gale's a total hottie."
"Primrose!" I exclaim, sitting down on the hard wooden chair by the desk.
"Well he is," she says coyly, rolling over on her back. "It's a shame if you can't see it because trust me, other girls do."
I frown as I think about what she is saying, though it's not news to me. I've seen how girls look at Gale, I've seen it for years in fact, and of course I am aware that he is a handsome person and an attractive partner. That's not the issue. Since I don't know how to explain it all to my still very young sister I instead try to steer her in a different direction.
"There's a whole lot more that matters than whether or not a guy is handsome," I say. "Looks aren't all that important."
"I suppose they don't matter much in the dark," she says, wiggling her eyebrow. She then bursts out laughing at my dropping jaw. "Katniss I'm teasing! Yeah I know, looks aren't everything, but this is Gale we're talking about, not some stranger. You know him. You like him. Hot guy plus likeable guy equals guy you can date."
"For other girls, maybe," I say. An uncomfortable knot forms in my stomach as I think back on my last meeting with Gale in the woods. "I'm not at all sure it would be a good idea for Gale and I to go down that route. What if it didn't work out? Our friendship would be gone. Why take that risk?"
"So you have thought about it?" she surmises, sounding like the cat who got the canary.
"And I don't think it would be a good idea."
"Katniss…" The serious tone in my sister's voice, so different from the jovial, light-hearted tone from a moment ago, catches my attention. "Look, if you don't want to date Gale then don't date Gale, although I really don't see why you would hesitate. He's handsome, we know he's a great guy and I think he really likes you."
I try to force my cheeks not to blush.
"Maybe," I mutter, barely audibly.
"However, if you don't date him and he ends up with someone else, married to someone else… Do you think things will stay the same between the two of you? Do you think his wife would be comfortable with him having such a close friendship with another woman?"
"If not then that's her problem," I protest, crossing my arms beneath my chest, feeling defensive.
"Gale might not see it that way. Romantic love tends to trump friendship. Spouse trumps hunting partner. If he's in love and married and living with some other girl she will be very important to him and he's likely to want her to feel comfortable." She shifts on the bed, sitting up and hugging a pillow to her chest. "All I'm saying is that if you're hesitant to look at Gale as a possible boyfriend because you don't want your friendship to change, be aware that any romantic relationship he has will likely mean change." She gives me a small, crooked smile. "Same if you start going out with a guy who's not Gale, by the way."
"That's not going to happen," I say, rising from the chair. "Not everyone needs to fall in love, Prim. Not everyone wants to."
"Those two things you just said are two very different things." She giggles, a sound I've been hearing a lot from her lately, and gets up off the bed. "Why don't you ask your husband on Sunday if he would be okay with you having a hot male best friend?" My scowl does nothing to deter her. "The whole purpose of the project is to prepare yourselves for adulthood and matrimony, right?"
"Peeta would probably answer that I'm free to do whatever I like. Now less talking and more working. Mother needs your help with the herbs."
She smirks at me and hurries off to help our mother out. I put on my father's hunting jacket and wrap a warm scarf around my neck before stepping outside to have a seat on the porch. I need to rub my hunting boots with grease to help keep them insulated and warm for the upcoming winter cold. As I work I think about what my sister said to me. About how if Gale falls in love with somebody else and begins to seriously date her, or even marries her, things will change. I realize she's got a point. Who wouldn't be threatened by their boyfriend or husband spending so much time all alone with another girl? In particular when it's a girl he's wanted to date. It was always going to be a future problem, even when we were just friends, but now something else has been added to the mix. The thought brings a tight knot in my stomach and after a while I stop what I'm doing with my hands, close my eyes tight and allow myself a brief moment of weakness.
No matter how hard I try to fight it, life is going to change. It's never static. Prim grows older every day, I do too, and as we progress past reaping age a different set of events and expectations will come into our lives. People around us, most likely including Gale, will be getting married and starting families. I will be needing a job. Prim will likely get married and move out too. I probably won't see Madge at all once school has ended. She too will be married, likely not inviting me to the toasting since I'm from the Seam and she's the mayor's daughter, and she'll become a mother and raise children under better circumstances than anyone else in Twelve while I toil away in the mines – God forbid – or work a low-paying job in some shop in town. Everything is changing and I am not ready for it.
Sunday arrives and I wake up feeling nervous and uncomfortable. All day yesterday I went back and forth between wanting to tidy up the place as much as possible and not wanting to show my mother and sister that I felt that way. It's not that I'm ashamed of where we live or anything like that. I just don't want Peeta to think that we are slobs. My mother keeps a pretty neat house when she's in one of her better phases but she's got her work cut out for her with the inevitable coal dust, cat hair and with two daughters who don't seem to notice if they leave their clothes on the floor or a comb on the coffee table or textbooks on a chair. In the end I tidied up mostly in the kitchen and sitting room, fighting the desire to scrub the floors so the coal dust that always lingers would be less noticeable. My efforts didn't seem to make much of a difference but I'll just have to live with it.
I can barely finish my meagre breakfast and I tap my foot nervously, wishing Peeta would get here already so we can have it all over with and simultaneously wishing he'd never show up so I don't have to do this.
"Katniss you seem oddly nervous about having a classmate over to study," remarks my mother calmly as she clears the table after the meal.
"I'm upset that I'm losing valuable hunting time."
She accepts that without question. Why wouldn't she? Not even Prim seems to think there could be anything else going on. That makes me wonder why I'm feeling this way. Am I honestly upset about Peeta coming to my home and seeing how I live? He may be merchant class but he's not Effie Trinket. I doubt it will be that much of a startling contrast and he's probably expecting something far less comfy than his town home, not to mention he seems far too polite to openly disapprove of the state of my house. Is it the fact that someone is coming over? I never invite anyone home with me except Gale. Not even Madge has been to my home. I mull it over while I move from the kitchen table to the small sitting room, trying to decide if I should sit down or remain standing while I wait.
"So how long is this school stuff going to take?" asks Prim, taking a seat on the couch with Buttercup on her lap.
"Another four months or so," I mumble.
"No, I mean today," she says with a little chuckle.
"Oh. No longer than an hour, I hope."
"How come you didn't have time to finish at school?"
"Something… came up."
I don't elaborate and she doesn't persist. She moves a bit to the side, allowing me space to sit beside her. We watch television for a while as I wait for Peeta to arrive. When he does show up the knock on the door startles me almost as much as it startles Buttercup. Nervously I fly to my feet but my mother beats me to it and answers the door.
"Good day, Mrs. Everdeen."
I hear Peeta's voice before I see him. As quickly as I can without seeming like I'm very eager to see him I walk over to the door and open it wider. I'm a little surprised to see him wearing what seems to be worn-out jeans, too worn out for him to be wearing to school anymore, and a sweatshirt underneath his open jacket. Decent clothes but definitely more free time oriented than what he normally wears when I see him. The blonde hair looks like he combed it earlier but the cold winds have messed it up again. He's got his backpack flung over his shoulder, by the looks of it filled with heavy books, and it crosses my mind that hopefully he took the envelope back on Monday because I don't have it. His eyes meet mine and he smiles slightly.
"Hi Katniss."
"You must be Peeta," says Mother in a strangely cordial tone. "Pleasure to meet you. Come right in."
She steps aside and he walks in, rubbing his hands together. They must be cold; I wonder why he didn't wear gloves. For some reason I feel like a bumbling idiot now that he's actually here in my house, not sure at all what to say or do or how to even stand. Do I cross my arms over my chest? Put my hands in my pockets? Lean semi-casually against the wall? My mother makes small talk with him and he easily responds, leaning down to remove his shoes before she tells him to keep them on. He looks a little surprised but she tells him it's because of the coal dust and that makes me feel awkward and a little embarrassed.
"We should get started," I say bluntly, earning me a slight scowl from my mother and a little bit surprised look from Peeta.
"Yes," he then says rather quickly. "Absolutely. I don't want to take up more of your time than necessary."
That wasn't what I was thinking and now I feel stupid on top of everything else. Judging by my mother's look I ought to also feel rude for being so unwelcoming of our guest. I don't know what she expects from me; it's not like we have company over all the time. Not my fault that I never learned how to behave in situations like these.
"You must be Prim," says Peeta and I turn my head and see my sister coming over with the cat in her arms.
"Hello," she says in a tone that still has some of her usual shyness but also a touch of something else. Something more confident and a little bit more grown up. "And you must be Peeta." Changing her grip on Buttercup she holds out her hand to him. "Always a pleasure to meet my new brother-in-law for the first time."
The comment was obviously attempted as a joke, with perhaps the tiniest hint of flirtation, but it comes out strange and she immediately looks crestfallen. I'm reminded very strongly that my sweet young sister is still in there, despite whatever phase she might be going through. My eyes go to Peeta and I pray he won't laugh or make some comment about the number of brothers-in-law she might have been introduced to. Instead he smiles at her in his typical friendly way and pretends not to notice how flushed her cheeks are or the mortified look on her face.
"Pleasure is all mine," he says and then he looks at the cat. "And this must be Buttercup, right? Our saviour from the rats."
Prim looks surprised that he knows her cat's name, and frankly so am I. I wouldn't have expected him to remember it for five minutes, much less weeks later. I write it off as that he must have written it down somewhere in the actual assignment and maybe looked everything over before coming over this morning. Because seriously, who remembers the name of someone else's scrawny old cat? Either way, his comment about Buttercup seems to do the trick as Prim is back to smiling and proudly pets the cat on his very ugly head.
"Buttercup would be happy to kill as many mice as needed," she brags.
"Counting on it," smiles Peeta.
I can't bring myself to suggest that we get started on our work, not while Peeta is talking to Prim and making her seem so at ease. However Prim soon breaks the spell by slipping back into teenager mode.
"We'll show you around," she says to Peeta. "It's not a big house but nonetheless."
"I'd be delighted," answers Peeta in that well-bred merchant way of his.
"Come along then," says Prim, giving me a mischievous look that doesn't make my inner alarm go off soon enough. "We can start with the most important places to know where to find. Bathroom, of course… and Katniss' bedroom."
Now it's my turn to be mortified and even Peeta looks embarrassed. Thankfully my mother has gone into the kitchen and misses the remark but I'm shocked enough for both her and myself.
"Prim!" I exclaim.
"What?" she says innocently. "Isn't that where you'll be working on this thing?"
Alone with Peeta in my bedroom? One – or both – of us would have to sit on the bed in order to sit comfortably. Yeah, that's not going to happen.
"We'll be in the kitchen, actually," I say, giving her a stern look. This is so not like the Prim I know and I can't understand what's gotten into her. Puberty didn't make me behave this way, why should it for her? "Prim don't you think Buttercup is in dire need of a bath? Right now?"
She catches my less-than-subtle drift and with a little wave to Peeta heads off to clean the mangy old feline or do anything else that keeps her out of our hair. I force myself to smile awkwardly as I meet Peeta's eyes.
"Sorry about that," I mumble. "My sister is the sweetest thing but recently it's like she's been suffering from a somewhat frustrating case of…"
"Growing up?" he suggests when I can't find the word I want to use.
That definitely wasn't the words I was looking for but when he says them I'm surprised at how on the mark they are. It is in fact not puberty or being a teenager or any of those things that troubles me about Prim these days. It's the whole fact that she's growing up.
"Yeah," I say, smiling faintly at him. "Well, uhm, anyway… Do you want me to show you around or should we just…"
"I would be happy to see your home but perhaps some other time?" he says politely. "We really ought to get started."
I nod, relieved at his answer, and show him to the kitchen where my mother is finishing up cleaning the countertop. It doesn't seem in particular need of cleaning. I wonder if she's actually there to keep an eye on us, as if this was something that could turn into lewdness. Or maybe she's just curious about this new person I've brought into our home. Peeta is, after all, merchant just as she once was and I suppose it's possible that a link to that part of her life might catch her interest, even if it is an eighteen year-old boy she has no other relation to. I motion for Peeta to have a seat and he pulls out two chairs, one for himself and one to put his backpack on. He rummages through the backpack and starts placing items on the table. Notebook, pencils, pencil sharpener, eraser, the envelope containing our next scenario. Then he pauses for a second before lifting up a paper bag, the same kind they use at the bakery. He rises from his chair and walks over to my mother, handing it to her.
"I, uh… thought I should bring something. As thanks for letting me come over and finish the school work."
I don't know who is more taken aback, me or Mother. She makes faint protests but Peeta insists, placing it in her hands, and I'm not sure what to say. I'm not comfortable with it but I think I'd rather leave an extra squirrel on their doorstep or something than get into an outdrawn verbal sparring over whether or not we can accept whatever is in that bag. Finally Mother agrees to take it and thanks Peeta with a small smile. She opens the bag and freezes, an odd look on her face.
"Mother?"
"Is something wrong?" asks Peeta, looking worried.
"No…" says Mother, sounding slightly distant. "No, nothing at all, just… I haven't seen these in I don't know how long."
This gets me curious and I rise from my seat and walk over to her. I look inside the bag and see three large cookies with chunks of something brown, presumably chocolate, in them. Only three cookies. Seemingly then not intended for us to eat while Peeta is here. That strikes me as odd in a way, yet also just like something he might do. Bring cookies for us to enjoy as a family later without having an outsider present. I'm torn between wanting to thank him for his kindness and wanting to scowl at him for being so presumptive as to bring such a gift. If there's one thing I can't stand it's feeling indebted and where Peeta is concerned I've already got more to repay than I will ever be able to.
"I hope you'll like them," he says, a touch of bashfulness in his voice.
"I know we will," says Mother, still that strange tone in her voice, at once both distant and soft.
"What exactly are they?" I have to ask, having never seen this particular kind of cookie before.
"Chocolate chip cookies," Peeta tells me. "We don't make them often but peacekeepers tend to buy lots of them around the Harvest Feast and sometimes my father likes to bake a batch or two a while ahead, to make sure he remembers how to do them right."
My mother looks like she's about to say something but then thinks the better of it. She closes the paper bag carefully so the cookies won't turn dry and stale and leaves the kitchen to go show Prim. When she's gone a thought occurs to me and I look at my project partner with a scowl.
"It's really nice of you to bring them but won't it get you into trouble?" I think of his mother and how she gave him a black eye at age eleven for burning two loaves of bread. I can only imagine what she'd do if she found out he wasted valuable cookies on what she considers Seam trash.
"Actually…" he says, then lowers his voice even though nobody is around to hear us. "My father sent them with me. Just don't tell anyone. I don't think he wants people to know he hands out cookies for free."
I nod, biting my bottom lip. This makes me feel even more annoyingly indebted but I can't very well let Peeta think I'm not showing his kind father proper respect.
"Be sure to tell him thanks."
He nods and smiles, then gestures to the table.
"Shall we?"
We take our seats at the table, this time with Peeta's bag in-between us on the short end of the table, placing us opposite one another. It feels strange to be sitting here where I eat with my family, in my home, about to find out more about my pretend marriage to Peeta. He seems unaffected by the circumstances which calms me at least a little bit. In fact if things were different I might even be able to pretend that we are two friends working together on our normal homework. However that's rather hard to do when we're a minute or two away from finding out if our teachers think we'd get pregnant in our first year of marriage. The thought makes me blush a little, thinking back to the images I had in my head on Monday. In a feeble attempt at getting that out of my head I, somewhat awkwardly, take a moment to thank Peeta for not making fun of Prim before.
"Hey, don't mention it," he says, waving his hand dismissively.
"Well it matters to me," I say sternly.
"I know. I know your sister is important to you." He smiles crookedly. "I would never make fun of someone for saying something that came out wrong."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't." I run a hand over my head and down my braid, letting my fingers play with the end. "It's strange seeing her… grow up. So fast, I mean."
"I suppose," says Peeta, opening a page in his notebook but keeping an eye on me. "I only have older siblings so I haven't really seen it from that perspective."
"It's awful," I admit in a mutter.
"Really?" he says softly. "You think so?"
"You don't?"
"No…" he says, shaking his head. "No I think growing up is one of the best parts about life. No more reapings. Independence from your folks. Maybe even getting married and moving to a home of your own. Building a life. Adulthood brings a whole collection of new things to experience and all of them seem more exciting than childhood."
I can barely keep in a heavy sigh. It seems everyone but me thinks growing up and getting married and moving away from home is exciting. Even this entire school project is built around the idea that all we want to do when we graduate from school and from the reapings and turn nineteen is to have a toasting and get started on baby-making. Truth be told I think I might start to view my future differently if I survive this last reaping, knowing for the first time in eighteen years that I have a future, but I cannot imagine that I would be excited over marriage and procreation. There must be other things life has to offer.
"Katniss?"
Peeta's voice brings me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah."
"Should we open up this thing and get started?"
I smile slightly and nod.