This chapter is a bit of an in-betweener... Sorry about that. =)
Monday afternoon Peeta's eyes meet mine across the classroom as the teacher announces that our last class before Project Hour is over. We have a ten minute break coming up but lately Peeta and I have taken to heading straight for the assembly room to claim our table. Ten minutes isn't much of a break, more like a leg-stretcher, and I wouldn't do much with that time anyway. Peeta's clique always seems to have enough time to have fun together in some way or another, no matter how short a break, but he chooses to forgo that at this hour every Monday. I stand up and gather my things, putting them into my backpack in no particular order, and put my backpack on. Peeta isn't done neatly stacking up his books and notepads when I reach his seat in the classroom and I smirk and try not to roll my eyes at the orderly fashion in which he does things like that. Putting your books into your backpack or your locker seems to be something of a science with him.
"Why are you always ready faster than I am?" he mutters rhetorically under his breath, putting the last of his things into his pack. "Okay, ready."
We leave the classroom together, one or two of his merchant friends stopping us along the way to try and convince him to come join them for whatever it is they plan on doing for the next ten minutes. Peeta shrugs them off with a smile and joins me in walking towards the assembly room. On the way there he asks about my weekend and I give only a short retelling of events, namely that I did nothing much on Saturday and on Sunday Gale came over for dinner. Peeta nods and launches into a vivid description of an incident that happened in the bakery with his brother Scotti on Saturday. I remind myself that this is why it's so beneficial for us to head straight for the assembly room without taking the break first. Peeta is naturally chatty and with each week he seems to require more and more time to talk about random topics before he can settle down and focus on the work. Just as well then to talk it all out before the hour actually starts.
"So how did you do on the chemistry test?" I ask as we get our things in order at the table, books and papers seemingly everywhere.
"Okay, I guess," he answers with a shrug and a slight scowl. "I mean, I definitely didn't ace it. But I know I didn't flunk it either, which is the most important part. My parents will have to settle for a medium degree."
"Your parents must be thrilled about our grades in general," I note, opening the plastic binder that holds my work for the project. "I strive to keep myself on better-than-average levels so I can have a shot at decent employment this summer but you… You seem to have top grades in almost everything and you don't even need it."
"Why on earth do you think I don't need it?" he asks, looking bewildered.
"Well, I mean… Bakery job or not, you're from town…"
"So what? You think jobs will be lined up for me just because my hair is blond and my father doesn't mine coal?" He sounds offended and that takes me by surprise. Why would anyone be offended about not being on the bottom rung of life?
"No, I mean…" I begin, scratching my neck in an awkward gesture. If I have insulted him then that makes me feel bad and I want to smooth things over. "You must have a ton of connections. Growing up in town, being friends with other merchants, having relatives who run various businesses… Connections help out a lot when you're trying to get a job; the people who hire already know you and know your strengths. Whereas I have to rely on my grades and my ability to charm a potential employer into wanting to hire me." I sigh and make a face. "An ability I was born without, unfortunately."
Peeta studies me with a soft expression on his face, no longer seeming to be offended or irritated.
"You don't actually believe that, do you?" he says.
"You don't actually mean you don't," I snort in reply. "Who do you think they'd rather hire? You, a person they've known for years and know is a safe bet or me, a person they've never seen before, who might be utterly wrong for the job?"
"I meant about you being born without any charm."
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze I turn my eyes to the material for our project, racking my brain to come up with something to say to steer the conversation into more appropriate territories. I end up just staying silent, like an idiot, and Peeta doesn't press the subject further. The assembly room begins to fill up with people as more and more students from our class settle in to work and a few kids in grades below ours take refuge here to do their homework here in peace. Relative peace, anyway. It can get pretty loud in here with so many pairs working together on the project. All the same it's probably a better study environment than many homes.
"I think we should start with…" I begin but I notice Peeta's attention isn't on me anymore. He's half turned around in his chair, from what I can tell looking at a very sullen boy who is shooting him death glares from the other side of the room. "Peeta?"
"What?" he says absent-mindedly, not turning around.
"Peeta… Hello? Are you still with me?"
The other boy makes a face at Peeta and mouths something I can't make out. Peeta sighs and turns back around. He runs a hand through his ashen hair, looking frustrated and a little weary.
"Just… give me a minute…" he says. He gets up from his seat and walks over to the other boy. They seem to talk heatedly for a minute or two, the other boy gesticulating rather vigorously throughout, then Peeta holds up both hands in a surrendering gesture and turns back to our table, shaking his head all the while. The whole scene surprises me. I've never known Peeta to get into fights at school, unlike some of our classmates who seem very prone to brawls. Not that what I just witnessed was a brawl but something tells me it could be a prelude to one.
"What was that about?" I ask warily as he pulls out his chair and sits back down. I note that the other boy still glares, seeming just as sullen as before.
"I'm sorry," says Peeta with a sigh. "I shouldn't have gone over there, it's rude, you and I are supposed to get started. I don't mean to bore you with all this 'drama' going on. It has nothing to do with our work so it's inconsequential right now."
"If you say so." I study him on the sly, truthfully quite curious about what's actually going on. I've never cared about gossip or the various antics of my schoolmates but this silent theatre going on between Peeta and that other boy has caught my attention. I study my notebook for a minute, pretending to read through some of what we got done last time, and when I look up again that boy is still glaring at us. "I don't mean to stick my nose where it isn't wanted," I say, "but that guy seems hell-bent on giving you the evil eye until you crumble or run away or something."
Peeta casts a look over his shoulder.
"One might wonder why he bothers, seeing as how my back is turned towards him and I have to turn around to see him," he sighs.
"I'll admit," I say, putting my pencil down, "I'm a bit curious. Why, exactly, is he glaring at you like that? If you don't mind me asking, of course."
Peeta casts another look at the boy and then turns back to me, a somewhat troubled look on his face.
"You remember at the Harvest Festival, when you and I ran into each other?"
"Yeah?"
"I had to help Jess Adams, who was… overly inebriated, so to speak."
"Right."
"Jessamyn lives near me. Her older sister Caitlin used to go out with Scotti their three last years of school. We were all quite convinced Scotti and Caitlin would end up getting married, as you can probably imagine, and our families spent a bit of time together. When I ran into Jess at the festival, drunker than Haymitch Abernathy on Reaping Day, I couldn't just leave her like that. Ryean saw us, came over and we brought her back home."
I nod slowly, remembering seeing all of this but still not getting what this has to do with the boy glaring angrily at Peeta. Does he think Peeta, or Ryean, did something bad to Jessamyn? If so he should speak up and not just sit there and glare.
"That boy over there…" He makes a nodding motion with his head in the direction of the glarer. "That's Jessamyn's boyfriend. Apparently someone saw me carrying her when she was all but passed out, before my brother got there, and spun it into something more than what it was, or at least made some suggestions along those lines. Bradley's been pissed at me ever since. I've told him half a dozen times that nothing happened and that I'm not interested in Jess, she's too young for me and it would be weird dating a girl I at one point thought would be my brother's sister-in-law."
"And our sourpuss over there won't listen to reason?" I conclude.
"Nope," says Peeta dryly. "Me not being involved with anyone is apparently enough to convince him I must be secretly lusting for her." He makes a face, the leans in closer to me in order to speak in more confidence. "You know what really irritates me about how he's acting?"
"All of it?" I suggest dryly, looking over at the boy over Peeta's shoulder. "It seems like a colossal waste of time to just sit there and… glower."
"Say he's right," says Peeta. "Say I did have a thing for Jess and at the Harvest Festival I seized the opportunity to be a chivalrous suitor who helped her get out of a tough spot, hoping to win her affections in the process. What the hell should that even matter? If I want to be with her, does that mean I get to be? No. She's with Bradley and I can only be a threat if she feels something for me – which she does not." He sits back normally and shakes his head, looking very disapproving. "Whatever problems they may have it has little to nothing to do with me. I just feel sorry for her, being with a guy who trusts her so little."
"Though you don't know if she's done something to earn that mistrust," I can't help but point out. "Fair should be fair."
Peeta gives me a look similar to the one Bradley is still giving him. His arms are crossed over his chest and he raises one of his eyebrows.
"Really, Katniss? Fair? I don't think he's acting the least bit fair."
"I'm simply saying that while you might be right and he's just a jerk, the reality might also be that Jessamyn hasn't been the best girlfriend."
"What exactly are you implying?" he asks, looking very disapproving.
"I'm just saying, we have no way of knowing and maybe we shouldn't judge."
"Well I do know this," says Peeta with a snort. "If you have that much distrust, warranted or not, maybe it's better to talk it out or cut your losses than to spend weeks obsessing over whether or not some guy who held her hair back for her when she puked is lying awake at night fantasizing about being in her arms."
"Maybe he really cares for her and wants to make it work, despite whatever may have happened between them," I say pensively, twirling a pencil between my fingers.
"Yeah, well he should leave me out of it," says Peeta sourly. "I am not a factor. As I said, it doesn't matter whether or not I want to be with her; what matters to her boyfriend is who she wants to be with."
"Okay," I say to placate him. An awkward silence fills the next couple of minutes and then Peeta sighs and opens his notepad to where we left off before the break.
"Let's get back to our essay," he says. "You sure you're okay with me writing? You don't want to have a go at it?"
"Works just fine for me," I say. That's an understatement. He's much better at how to phrase things, having a way with words that I could never hope to match, not to mention I've realized his penmanship is a lot better than mine. To a degree that makes me a touch ashamed of my own handwriting.
"So, where we last left off…" he says, glancing at the notepad. His lips move as he seems to read the last sentences in his head. "Right. We're almost done with the things we feel a child needs growing up. You have the notes from our brainstorming?"
"Yeah," I say, quickly sorting through my papers to find it. I spot it, grab it and hold it out to him. "Here!"
"Why don't you hold on to it and read from it and we'll work together on how to get it down in the essay? Same as how we went about it last time." He frowns a little and glosses over the things I wrote down last time. "Shouldn't take us more than ten minutes to finish up this part. It's pretty straight-forward. Then it's on to the values part."
I nod slightly, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the task facing us. Essay-writing has never been my strong suit and it's more difficult to write an essay together, especially when it's with someone you haven't known very long and even more so when the topic of the essay is about feelings and values and your subjective opinions. I think this project might actually mark the first time we've been given essays as assignments without the requirement of referring everything to a factual source. There's not much room for objectivity or proven facts in this essay, except if we are to argue that our described values are valid for a specific reason. Frankly our teachers aren't interested in objective truths with this. That's not the point of the exercise. The point is to make us think about what is important to us and what we want to convey on our children one day. It's to make us think about the things that matter to us, how we see the world and to realize that our views and values are probably never identical to another person's – even the person we marry and have babies with. What values are we willing to compromise about and what values are deal-breakers, those are the kinds of questions our teachers seem to be hoping to evoke. As difficult as it is to write this thing I do have to hand it to the teachers who crafted this assignment. It's probably the smartest part of the project thus far and to anyone who takes the essay seriously and who understands what it really is about it's undoubtedly going to be an eye-opener and actually prepare us for when we have to face this in real life. Even for someone like me, who never plans on having children, these things seem worth giving some thought. But that doesn't change the fact that it's terribly hard to write together with another person.
"Alright then," says Peeta when we're finished with the first part. "Do you want to give it a read-through before we move on?"
"You've said everything out loud to me as you've written it down," I point out with a lopsided smirk. I don't even know if he realizes he does that.
"Do you want to give it a read-through?" he asks again, looking into my eyes with complete seriousness.
"No," I say, feeling a little like a scolded child. "No, I'll wait and read through the whole all once it's done."
He nods slowly, studying what he has written up until now. It's all in one of his notebooks but he's going to transcribe it over to an A4 sheet of paper later in the format our teachers always require for essays. I would offer to do that part since he's done the bulk of the writing so far but I only need to look at what he's written and think of my own handwriting in comparison to think the better of it. I'll take on a bigger part for the next leg of the project instead.
"Okay, so, values…" Peeta begins, leaning back in his chair and drumming the back of his pencil against the sheet with instructions for the assignment. "How do we want to raise our fictional child? What values do we want to pass on to young Cookie Crisp?"
"Seriously, you need to stop calling it that!" I say. "Or it will stick and we won't be able to think of the kid having any other name."
"Any thoughts? About the values, I mean, not the name."
"Well, one," I mumble. "The one we discussed before. No physical punishments."
He nods. He doesn't write it down and neither do I. It seems like a given, anyway. No need to put it in writing to make sure we remember to include it. It's odd, though, that this should be the only thing we can think of right away. I thought this would be the easy part – what basic morals are important to me, who am I as a person, questions that I should know the answer to. Why does it seem so hard to talk about it? Are we both feeling insecure opening up to one another about something that is, at its core, very intimate?
Finally Peeta groans and draws his hand over his face, from his forehead and downward, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose and then travelling all the way down to his chin. He seems frustrated and in the midst of my own awkwardness in the moment I feel just the tiny bit curious. He seems like such an open person but clearly sharing this kind of information comes difficult to him too.
"Let's just tell it like it is," he says, "we have no chance of getting this done in the…" He looks over at the large clock on the wall. "Thirty-five minutes that remain of this school day. And just sitting here like we're playing share-your-ethics chicken won't get us anywhere." He huffs and shifts in his chair, leaning forward over the table with his upper-body weight supported on his crossed arms. "I can't focus here, can't relax and… open up… with so many people around." He rolls his eyes. "Especially not with the guy whose girlfriend I apparently lust after without even knowing it myself staring at me like he wants to go three rounds with me on the playground outside."
"So what are you suggesting?"
"I suggest we call it a day. Each of us goes home, or to some other place where we can think in peace, and we try and figure this out for ourselves. Maybe you already have most of it worked out but I've been so caught up on the chemistry test that I honestly didn't bother with this. I thought it would come easy once we sat here but it doesn't."
"Yeah," I nod in agreement.
"So we figure it out, maybe write a thing or two down, and then we meet up and finish writing it."
"But this leg of the project is due Monday morning," I point out.
"I know." He starts to gather his things. "Is it okay with you if we meet up at your house again?"
"Uhm… Yeah, sure. Yeah."
"Okay good." He's moving surprisingly fast, already his things have been put back in his worn backpack. "Sunday good? I can talk to my father and get the whole day off from the bakery, or trade with Scotti whose week it is." When he stands up I finally get moving too, gathering the papers I have spread out on the table along with the contents of my pencil case. "I don't mean to intrude on your Sunday but I think we should set aside most of the day, just to be on the safe side. I can finish the transcribing in the evening."
"Peeta I can do that part," I say, feeling I need to at least make the offering. "You're already doing the first draft, or whatever we should call it. It's not fair to let you do the transcribing part as well."
"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's my idea to postpone so I will do it."
"If you're sure…" I say hesitantly.
He smiles slightly.
"I'm sure."
I nod tentatively. It occurs to me that perhaps his family have better odds at having electrical lighting on a Sunday evening than we do in the Seam and that he's just trying to be subtle about it and not rub it in my face, but on the other hand I don't know how he would know anything about our lack of electricity, or for that matter why it would make a difference where in the district you live.
"Hey, do you want me to walk with you to the crossroads?" I ask, getting up and reaching for my scarf. "That guy is still giving you the stink eye and since he's not in our class he's done for the day and can leave whenever."
Peeta's smile becomes a bit wider.
"Well I don't think I have anything to fear if he tries to pick a fight with me; he didn't make the wrestling team this year either. I do appreciate the offer and I would love to have your company for the walk, but I did make the wrestling team and I have practice today after school."
"Oh. Right." Why is he so quick to pack up all his things, then, if he's not hoping to get home early?
"But so Sunday it is, then?" he says, putting his backpack on. "At what time should I be there?"
"Make it ten," I answer, putting my jacket on. That gives me a bit of time to hunt with Gale and trade at the Hob.
"Ten it is," he nods. He gives me a smile which I return. "It's all settled, then. Thank you for today. I will see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow…"
He winks at me and then he's off, walking in the direction of the lockers. I head for the bathroom and then go to my own locker, getting the things I need before closing it and locking it up. Slowly I make my way towards the main doors, thinking to myself that I can go out into the woods now that I'm getting home a bit early. As I step outside into the bitter cold I turn my head in the direction of the gym hall where the wrestling team practices. They don't start until fifteen minutes after our last class for the day has ended, giving the senior students time to put their books away and get changed. That gives Peeta about forty-five minutes. He seemed like he was eager to get going and I'm curious as to why. There's nothing going on between him and Jessamyn Adams but what about that other girl he was with? The one he was dancing with and laughing with. The one with the headband. Could she be the reason why he almost seemed in a rush to get done for the day and head off?
I begin my walk home and as I trudge through the snow that has fallen during the afternoon I try to put it from my mind. It's none of my business if he's off in some secluded corner kissing that girl, or any other girl for that matter. Didn't he say earlier that he's not in a relationship? But that doesn't mean he was telling the truth, or that he isn't in the early stages of dating someone, before they have decided to be a steady couple. Catching myself with these thoughts I shake my head firmly. What's wrong with me? Seriously. There could be any number of things he's doing. Perhaps he's heading to the gym hall early to warm up and practice something or other. Or there's another test he needs to study for. Whatever he's up to it is decidedly none of my business and I should stop thinking about it.
I have enough to worry about with my own life at the moment.
"Katniss, are you staying home this evening?"
I look up from my homework with a surprised expression. The question from my mother seems so random that I almost wonder for a second if she's gone over the deep end and retreated into her own world.
"Where else would I be going?" I question. The wind is picking up outside and snow is falling heavily. The temperature is a bit milder but that only facilitates the snowfall. It's a very unpleasant evening to set foot outdoors unless you absolutely need to.
"Did you look outside, Mother?" questions Prim carefully. She's on the threaded old rug on the floor that's just far enough from the fireplace that sparks won't fly and land on it to cause a fire. In front of her is an open history book which she studies with anything but glee. "The weather is terrible. Might turn into a blizzard."
Our mother looks out the window. The darkness makes the bad weather difficult to see but the howling wind can be heard throughout our old house. She looks mildly surprised, as if she truly hadn't noticed the weather but doesn't honestly care either.
"Oh." She shrugs slightly and takes a seat next to Buttercup on the couch. "I just thought that maybe you would have plans with Gale tonight."
"And what would we go do in this kind of weather?" I ask, just barely keeping myself from snorting. I turn my attention back to my school book.
"Discover the indoors," she answers, a touch of actual dry sarcasm in her tone. She sighs wistfully, scratching the cat behind is raggedy ear. "I remember what it was like, don't think that I don't." I look up at her with a scowl. The distant look on her face that I am so used to seeing has a touch of something different, something nostalgic. "When your father and I first fell in love… It was like magic." I squirm where I sit, finding it awkward to say the least. I share a look with Prim but she looks enthralled. She loves hearing about our father, and usually I do too but perhaps not in this particular context. "We had to sneak around a bit at first, find places where we could spend time together. My parents did not approve, of course, and neither did his."
"What does any of this have to do with Gale and I?" I ask, cutting her off before she goes too far down memory lane. By the look on her face she's almost forgotten that her daughters are in the room and she looks a touch surprised at hearing my voice. Her expression sobers up but retains its small smile.
"I suspect we will be seeing less and less of you now with all your free time being spent with him."
"He works in the mines," I point out dryly. "He doesn't have free time."
She gives me a look that I can't decipher so I leave it be. My attention turns to my book again and for a good half-hour or so nobody speaks, aside from a mutter or two from Prim who truly hates her history homework. Then Mother breaks the silence by once again discussing my love life, as if it were any of her business.
"I know you are a responsible young woman, Katniss," she says, and I look up at her as if she had just spontaneously burst into song or something. "But I feel that a few ground rules should be made clear."
"About what?" I ask, not bothering to hide how irritated I am getting. From the corner of my eye I see Prim giving me a look pleading me to be nice but it has little effect on me in my current state of mind.
"Gale is of course welcome to visit here whenever he wants."
"I should think so. He always has been up until now."
"But I do not want him staying over, is that understood? Not until you are older, at least. In fact I don't want the pair of you to be alone together in your bedroom."
"Where else can they be alone together?" remarks Prim, one eyebrow raised. "Our house is pretty small."
"Katniss understands what I'm talking about."
My mother's eyes bears into mine, a kind of seriousness in them which I rarely see. It makes me squirm uncomfortably. It's obvious what she's talking about and my mother thinking about those things makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
"Don't worry," I say firmly, hoping to put an end to this conversation. "There will be no inappropriate things going on."
"Oh I'm sure there will be," answers Mother, making me want to leave the room instantly to get away from this awkward moment. "I know what it's like to be your age and in love. But I don't want it happening under my roof. And we should talk protection at some point."
My eyes pass by Prim and I'm startled to see her sporting a grin, following the conversation with utter fascination.
"What Gale and I do is none of your business," I tell my mother sharply.
"It is when it happens under my roof."
"Well it won't. And that's all the protection I need to know about." I stand up and grab my book. I won't be able to study anywhere else as the power went out hours ago and this is the only room lit well enough. I don't care. I won't stay and listen to this.
"Now, Katniss, there's no need to get irritable."
I scoff and leave the room in a stride, feeling absolutely mortified. Now not only do I have to live with the knowledge that my mother worries about me and Gale having sex, and Prim apparently taking great interest in the topic, but I also have the most unwelcome images of my parents engaging in kissing and who knows what else? I go inside my bedroom, trying to think of anything but the unwelcome images of my parents.
In a moment of childishness I fling my book on my small writing desk, regretting it immediately as it knocks over the old glass Prim and I use as a pencil stand. I let both the book, the pencils and the glass be. I can pick it all up tomorrow. The room is almost entirely dark except for the light coming in from the window – not moonlight but the sky itself being lit up in orange and soft pink from the falling snow. Usually it doesn't light up this way when it's nearly storming but tonight it does and it provides enough illumination for me to find the box of matches and the oil lamp on my nightstand. Once the wick is lit and the match has been put out I lay down on the bed, my chin resting on my crossed arms.
My mother and I have never had a confiding type relationship. Not even when I was little and she was happy. Even then I would run to my father when I had a secret to tell or a question about the ways of the world. My mother knows I've never been comfortable opening up to her. Why should she expect that to change now? Deep down what upsets me the most is that she ought to know me well enough to know this conversation isn't necessary. How can a mother not know that her nearly adult daughter has decided never to marry or have children? Is it too much to ask that she take at least some interest in who I am as a person, beyond what use I am by bringing home food?
A soft knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, followed by my sister's equally soft voice coming from the other side of the door.
"Katniss? May I come in?"
With a slight huff I shift onto my back and pull myself up into a sitting position. It's her bedroom too, of course she can come in. But it's just like my sweet sister to not just barge in and to actually respect my privacy.
"Yeah, of course," I say, just loud enough so that she can hear.
The door opens a little bit and Prim stands there for a second, a candle in her hand and a worried expression on her face. I make a face at myself for making my baby sister worry about me over something like this and I wave at her to come inside. She walks in and closes the door behind her, walking over to the bed and putting her candle down next to the oil lamp.
"Okay if I sit?"
"Prim, this is your bed," I say with a mild chuckle. I pat the spot next to me and she climbs up and joins me. To show her that she's not unwelcome I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she leans her head against mine. "Have you come to scold me for getting angry at Mother?" I ask. "Or are you here to check up on me because I'm acting completely irrational and might have had a seizure or something?"
"If you'd had a seizure you would have more alarming symptoms that made storming off quite difficult," she says, gazing up at me with a pointed look.
"You know what I mean, though."
She nods slightly and pauses.
"She means well, Katniss. She's just concerned."
"Of what? Out-of-wedlock pregnancy?" I sigh and shake my head. "Prim it's a little late in the game for her to be suddenly lecturing me on what I can and cannot do."
"Well, she is our mother," argues Prim. "Making sure we don't do inappropriate things is kind of her job."
"Going outside the fences and into the woods to hunt would be considered wildly inappropriate by most," I retort. "Never seen her try to stop me from doing that."
"She's just looking out for you."
"Prim, I'm seventeen. She hasn't been doing much of looking out for me for seventeen years."
"Yes she has," argues Prim. "You know she has. She worries when you don't come home on time, she-"
"You know what I'm talking about." A scowl comes over my face. "And besides, this is Gale we're talking about here! Gale Hawthorne, the guy who has been helping all of us live for the better part of five years. He's never done anything to hurt me. It's a little insulting that she would all of a sudden think of him as someone who might do something to me that he oughtn't to."
"Katniss I don't think she worries he's going to push you into doing something you don't want to do," says Prim, sounding a touch amused for some reason. "He's a gentleman, even if he's not like the boys she grew up with as far as manners go."
I roll my eyes, thinking of the number of merchant boys who have no compunction regarding bringing girls to the slag heap for any number of un-gentlemanlike behaviours but I don't want to talk about that with my sister.
"No, he's better than the boys she grew up with," I settle for saying.
"But there's a great big difference between him forcing you to do something you're not ready for and the two of you willingly engaging in things like that."
"For goodness sake, Prim!" I cannot believe it, do I now have to listen to my sister talking about me being physical with Gale? For that matter, how come the mere thought of it doesn't make her skin crawl, the way mine does knowing that she and my mother apparently think about it? "Look, it's not like that with Gale and I. Okay?"
"What do you mean?" says Prim with a light scoff. "You're in love platonically? Come on Katniss, I'm not a dummy or a little child. I know what couples like to do."
"Oh God…" I groan, pulling my arm away from her and burying my face in my hands. "Do I really have to have this talk with you, too?"
"No," she chuckles. "I'm just trying to make you see… She's not a dummy either, sis, and she's a healer at that. You know, delivering babies and whatnot? She knows you and Gale are going to want to-"
"Primrose!" I say firmly, looking up at her with a very stern face.
"Well, anyway…" shrugs Prim. "I told her she doesn't have to worry so much. I reminded her that you are a sensible person and you probably won't do anything rash." She gives my leg a hearty pat. "You'll be able to save yourself for marriage."
"Seriously?" I ask, wondering if she too suddenly has forgotten that I never intend on having a toasting.
"I know how you think and feel about marriage," she says calmly. "Probably you'll stick with that. But who knows? You might end up surprising yourself." She gets back down on the floor and grins at me, reaching for her candle. "All will be well, sis. And now I fear I've taken a long enough break from my history book. You should pick up your book and come join us again. I promise Mother won't talk about you and Gale anymore. Unless you want her to."
"I wholeheartedly don't," I assure my sister.
She smiles and shrugs, leaving the room and giving me a bit of privacy again. I sigh and contemplate following her suggestion and going back out there. I need to study but I really don't feel like being in the same room with my mother. Funny, when Gale was here for dinner and we told them our news I was happy that my mother took an interest and showed concern. Why does it anger me so much tonight? Is it just because it embarrasses me when she tries to talk about intimacy issues?
Mustering my energy I scoot forward and let my feet land on the cold floor. I get up and cross the short distance to the writing desk, picking up the book and rearranging the glass and the pencils while I'm at it. Who knows how long this weather is going to last? Perhaps we won't even be able to go to school for a day or two if it turns into a blizzard. I might be stuck indoors with my mother for a while and if that is the case I might as well try and act a bit mature and swallow my embarrassment and my somewhat wounded pride. Holding back a heavy sigh I carry the book under my arm, lean over and snuff out the oil lamp and then leave my room and head back out to my mother and sister.
Prim looks up at me with a pleased smile and a wink. Mother doesn't even seem to notice that I'm back until I sit down in the armchair, shoving Buttercup out of the way in the process. From the look I get I can tell my mother thinks I'm the one being unreasonable and that she doesn't feel she needs to apologise for anything. Well I'm certainly not going to apologise either. Perhaps it isn't actually necessary for either one of us to do so. We settle for acknowledging one another with a look and then I open the book and find the page I was reading.
"Oh by the way, Peeta is coming over on Sunday to work on the project," I say in a catty tone, unable to resist getting one last petty remark in. Childish, I know, but to be honest I don't feel like being a mature adult tonight. "Is that alright? Or do I need a chaperone for that as well?"
"Oh how nice to see him again," says Mother in a calm voice, showing no trace of wanting to take my bait.
"Can Katniss be alone with him in her bedroom?" asks Prim, a Cheshire Cat grin all over her face. The surprised look I give her is nearly rivalled by that of our mother. "What? I still say it makes sense for them to work in there. Less distractions, more… privacy…" She wiggles her eyebrows as she says the last word and it almost makes me laugh.
"I can't imagine Katniss doing anything inappropriate with young mister Mellark and cheat on Gale," says Mother and now my surprised face is directed at her. Young mister Mellark? Me cheating? What on earth? "But all the same I would prefer it if you kept your study sessions in the kitchen or the sitting room."
"Fine," I say with a sigh, now deeply regretting having brought Peeta up in the first place. I turn my attention back to the book on my lap, or at least I try to. "But for the record I would indeed never cheat on Gale and nothing inappropriate would be going on behind closed doors even if Gale was the one there with me."
"I'm glad to hear it," says Mother, putting her needlework aside and rising from her spot on the couch.
"I'm not," Prim stage-whispers as soon as she is out of hearing range. "Seriously Katniss, you could use some fun in your life."
The mischievous look on her face makes it impossible to be angry with her so I settle for ignoring her so that I don't encourage this. I know she's just teasing me but I could really do without it. I wouldn't mind being alone with Gale in my bedroom so we could talk in private and I know with complete certainty that he will never try and pressure me into something I'm not ready for or willing to do. But I also know that if he were to come visit and we were to go into the bedroom and close the door I would never hear the end of it from my mother or my sister and it doesn't seem quite worth it. Not when we have the woods, our glade in particular, where we can be alone as much as we want to be.
Thankfully the weather improves the following day and no blizzard hits. When I wake up early on Sunday morning it's cold, Prim has wrapped herself all around me in her sleep to get some warmth, but the sky is clear and I can't hear the wind howling. I untangle myself from my sister, waking her up in the process but she is back to sleep again by the time I've shimmied into my pants and pull a sweater over my head. I peek out through the blinders and although it's still dark out at this early hour it looks like it can be a promising day. The crescent moon above provides some illumination, enough to make the snow-covered ground glisten and to help me find my way to the glade without problem. I tiptoe through the house and prepare a thermos with hot tea to bring with me. I wish we had something I could eat for breakfast but no such luck. I'm hopeful that we will be able to bring home enough game to allow us to sell some of it for money to use at the marketplace. I want to buy potatoes and perhaps some salted fish.
By the time I step outside my stomach is growling but I ignore it and wrap my scarf tighter around me. There's about a decimetre of snow on the ground which thankfully means I won't have to plod my way towards the Meadow. I know once I get there the snow will be thicker and there will be a crust that probably can't hold my weight. It's difficult work to trudge across the Meadow when several steps has you sinking knee-deep down into the snow but it cannot be helped. If I'm lucky then Gale will already be out there and have made a path for me to follow. He takes larger steps than I do but it's still easier to follow after him and be able to step in at least some of his footsteps.
We find each other out in the glade and sit there together in comfortable silence, drinking tea and huddling close together to share our body heat. It's almost completely silent out in the glade this morning, a sharp contrast to how the wind has been howling several days this week. Gale takes my hand in his and I give a light squeeze. This I can get used to. Just the two of us out here, drinking our tea and waiting for game to hopefully pass us by. Holding hands and sitting close together, enjoying one another's company without the need for lots of kisses and conversations about us. Not that I have a problem with kissing or that I dislike talking about us but I don't want to do it all the time, every time we're together.
We're in luck this morning. Just as the sun begins to rise on the horizon a flock of birds of some kind come clucking into our glade. Sharing a look with Gale I lift up my bow slowly and as silently as I can. He gets on his feet without hardly making a sound and together we move as quietly as possible, hoping that the birds won't notice our presence. From the looks of it these birds haven't been hunted much, if at all, because surely they must be able to at least pick up on our scent and should be a little bit wary. Too bad for them, I guess. We are able to fell two birds, one each, and I share a smile with Gale as the rest of the birds fly away. I suppose we could have aimed to fell one more each but I don't recognize this type of bird, they must be on their way south for the winter and just briefly passing by, which means we don't know if we'll be able to sell them. True, many are starving and would eat them even if they turn out not to taste so good, but those people cannot afford to buy the birds from us. We need to sell to peacekeepers or well-off merchants who won't be interested unless they know what they are buying.
"I call this a good start," I say with a grin, walking up to the bird I felled. Gale laughs and gives my cheek a brief caress and I decide to celebrate the moment by giving him a kiss. The warm smile he rewards me with makes me feel good inside and I'm almost blushing as I pick up the bird and tie its feet together with a piece of string from my game bag. "We have dinner for both our families and the sun is not up yet. These things look big enough to provide food for at least a couple of days."
"Do you want to go scouting for rabbits or for squirrels?" asks Gale, tying up the feet of his own bird. "We could sell those, buy some supplies. Posy's birthday is coming up and I would love to be able to buy some proper white flour so that my mother can make pancakes for her. They're not quite the same with tesserae grain."
I smile slightly, both endeared by his desire to make his sister's birthday special and sad that something as simple as pancakes can be such a tricky thing to bring about.
"Sure," I nod. "Which way do you want to go?"
Following his lead we head deeper into the woods, keeping eyes and ears open for anything that might make for a good catch. For the following hour and a half we trudge through the forest and check up on Gale's snares, gather a bit of willow bark and try to bring down any animal we can trade at the Hob. Gale manages to shoot a squirrel and I fell two but aside from that we're all out of luck.
"Seems like those birds and these three guys were the only animals out and about today," says Gale, squinting as he looks up at the sun above. "Maybe they all spread the word?"
"I have to go," I tell him, stuffing my bird into my game bag. "I'm running late."
"Late? For what?" He's got a crooked smile on his face as he studies me, picking the three squirrels up by their tails.
"Peeta's coming over today. We've got some unfinished work to do before we hand in the next part of the project tomorrow." I purposely avoid looking at Gale, having a sneaking suspicion that the look on his face will not be one of approval. I don't want to get annoyed with him right now so it's easier to just not meet his eyes. "He's supposed to come over at ten and he's quite punctual."
"Oh I see," says Gale, his voice sounding strained. "My one day a week off from the mines and my girlfriend has better things to do than spend time with me?"
"I have spent time with you today," I point out. I give him a quick look as I throw the bag over my shoulder. "I'm sorry Gale, but you know the project is important. It's a big part of my grade this year and I would very much like to get a job outside of the mines and in order to do that I need good grades."
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, looking displeased but also a little conflicted. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, stuffing the dead squirrels into his own game bag.
"Yeah, Catnip, I know," he says with a sigh. "I can't help but feel disappointed, though. I spend all week longing for this day and…"
He doesn't finish the sentence but I think I understand. I walk up to him and place my hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.
"Listen, why don't I come by this afternoon? We could go for a walk, or something. Just the two of us."
He nods and leans in for a quick kiss.
There will be much more Peeta in the next chapter, I promise! And probably not all that much Gale.