I know I've said that now that the school project is over the pace of the story would be quicker, since it wouldn't be covering more or less every week of the timeline. During the past year I wrote a number of scenes that would take place in-between the project ending and K&P's graduation, but hardly any of them will actually be included. It's a case of kill your darlings, I guess. They don't contribute enough to the story, at least not when the pace has been as slow as it's been, and therefore need to end up on the literary cutting room floor. I might post some of them at some point as "deleted scenes" or something, but we'll see. Unfortunately, Peeta's wrestling tournament is more likely than not to be one of the parts not included. It doesn't contribute much in the grand scheme of things and isn't necessary.
This chapter is in many ways another one of those that ought to have been deleted, but I admit I have quite the fondness for it, so I decided to keep it in. I fleshed it out and imported some elements that would otherwise have been in a different kind of chapter, so it should conduce well enough.
The following two weeks are strange, even though strictly speaking it's only Monday afternoons that deviate from the previous routine. I wait impatiently to find out if we will be getting to read our partner's evaluation, and to find out our grade, but it's as if the project never happened. Our teachers don't mention it with a single word. The hour that used to be filled with project work has now been devoted to mandatory study time, in itself not unwelcome since the number of essays and exams we have lined up is staggering. Each Monday afternoon Peeta's eyes meet mine and he smiles at me, and I entertain the thought of asking him to study with me, for old times' sake. What stops me is Madge staying beside me as I get ready to head to the assembly room, and one or other of Peeta's friends dragging him along to sit with them. Maybe it's for the best, anyway. After the strange way I felt on the day our project ended, wanting him to kiss me like that, I feel a bit bashful around him and I'm a touch concerned with what might happen if I feel that way again. If I do, I will have to consider the possibility that it really does mean something deeper, and that is an overwhelming thought.
On the first Monday we do what we said we would, and speak to one another like friends. Like he said he would Peeta comes up to me at what used to be the recess before project hour, inquiring about how I've been, how my family is doing, how my studies are coming along. The only thing he doesn't seem to ask about is Gale. I see his friends rolling their eyes, especially Rusty seems as perturbed by our socializing as he did before. But nobody voices any objections out loud, and our conversation is short-lived anyway, by necessity. Once the brief recess is up we are due back in our homeroom to spend the following hour sitting in silence, each student working on whatever they need to devote their time to the most. Peeta and I are soon back in different ends of the classroom, saying nothing further to each other for the duration of the day.
The weather has improved steadily over the past couple of weeks, not counting three days of heavy rain we had earlier this week, and when Gale and I meet up in our glade on Sunday morning we can't even see our breaths during the coldest hours. We still keep scarves and gloves and hats on, and let the hot tea in our mugs warm us where we sit on our overturned log, but once the sun has been up for an hour or so we will probably start feeling sweaty. Once we start moving through the woods to check the snares and search for prey neither one of us is going to be feeling cold. The snows have melted almost entirely by now, and if this keeps up the only places in the forest where you will find any is where the shrubberies and evergreens and undergrowth keep the warmth of the sun from reaching the ground. Not a lot of migrating birds have returned yet, but they will soon enough, and it won't be long now before a new generation of woodland animals will come into the world. It's a good time to be a hunter and a gatherer. If it weren't for the upcoming Hunger Games, it would be a good time to be alive in general.
I'm feeling quite content today, almost happy. Springtime can be a difficult time for me, but I do love that the world around me comes back to life after long months of winter hibernation. Food becomes more plentiful, we don't have to freeze and can let fresh air into the house for hours every day, and the dreary whites and greys and browns of late autumn and winter give way to bright blue skies, flowers of various colours, and luscious greens on the ground and on the leaves of the flora. This year I'm not enjoying spring as much as I tend to, the worries for the future and the demanding work load at school keeping me occupied in more ways than one. And I don't even want to think about the reaping. My very last one. I've heard it said that your last reaping is the only one more nerve-wracking than your first. It isn't hard to understand why.
We have a fairly successful hunt, felling not only squirrels but finding two rabbits in Gale's snares. And best of all – I shoot a racoon. I'll willingly trade the other animals but this one I want for myself. I haven't managed to bring a racoon home in over two years and I'm already thinking of things I can do with its pelt. Holding it in my hand I stroke the soft fur with a feeling of triumph, and Gale gives me such a great smile that I offer him the meat, all of it.
"Not on your life, honey," he smiles. "That one is all yours."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. You felled it, you keep it. We'll take a rabbit each, and we can divide whatever the baker will trade us for the squirrels." Then he scowls. "Oh, wait, I forgot. We can't go to the bakery today. I guess then I can take two squirrels and you one – or we can trade them at the Hob and split that between us."
"Don't be ridiculous," I say dismissively, carefully rearranging the contents of my game bag to put the racoon at the bottom. "We'll trade with Mr. Mellark and get bakery bread."
"Second week of April. They're closed."
I pull my arm, then my head, through the strap of my game bag, letting the bag rest in-between my arm and my side. I place a fingertip on Gale's chin, stand up on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the lips.
"I want bakery bread. Please? For me?"
He doesn't look happy, but I don't make that kind of request often, so he relents. He puts his own game bag back on and starts walking towards the spot where we hide our weapons. It's early, we could easily stay out here another two or three hours, but we've got a decent haul – more than a decent one, in fact – and I definitely don't have any objections to heading back already. I'm eager to get back home and show Mother and Prim what I've got at the bottom of my game bag.
My spirits are high as we crawl underneath the fence and cross the Meadow, and in my mind I'm already imagining the bread we'll be having with supper tonight. I had originally intended not to sell the rabbit, but now that I've got the racoon instead I'm starting to consider the things I could get to go with it. Some potatoes perhaps? We haven't had any for at least three weeks. Prim is fond of bell peppers, and I like the green ones especially, so maybe we can get that?
"You're thinking of food," comments Gale as we make a right turn onto one of the larger roads that lead towards the part of town where the bakery is located. "You get an almost dream-like look in your eyes when you do."
"I'm thinking of bread to go with the racoon meat tonight," I confirm. "We've still got butter left, and Prim made cheese the other day. Are you sure you don't want both rabbits, though? Your family is bigger than mine and-"
"Oh come on, Katniss, you know I'm not going to take both. Besides, we've still got meat left over from last week's turkey."
"As long as you're sure."
I can tell from the look on Gale's face that he's sceptical to say the least, but not pertaining to the rabbits. His thick eyebrows furrow over his grey eyes and he's biting the inside of his bottom lip, the way he only does when he doesn't think something is going to work. I don't ask him what is on his mind. He'll tell me soon enough anyway. And as predicted, once we turn onto the street that leads to the bakery he voices his concerns.
"I think we're wasting our time."
"Oh, we're not," I say in a carefree tone. I have to give him a nudge to move aside so I can sidestep the near-decimetre deep stream of water that runs along the curb. Unsurprisingly the drains have done little to take care of the recent downpours and the water from the melting snows.
"The bakery is closed," Gale points out in a slightly annoyed tone.
"And what? You think the Mellarks went on a family vacation? Touring the catacombs of the arena from the 74th Games, perhaps? Come on, Gale, what does it matter if they're closed?"
"Not if. They are, for sure."
"What does it matter?" I repeat lightly, shrugging a shoulder. "So long as they're there we can still trade."
"We never have before," he reminds me. It's true. The bakery being closed has always meant we don't stop by to trade but that doesn't mean we can't.
"They're doing their spring cleaning," I say. "So they'll be in the kitchen. Thus we can trade."
"Okay, two things," sighs Gale. "First of all, if they're cleaning then they're not baking, and we won't have anything to trade. Second, how do you know they're cleaning?"
"Peeta told me."
"Right," he mutters under his breath. "Silly me."
I smirk and give him a nudge with my elbow.
"A lot of the things they bake keep for a day or two. If you preserve it right it won't go stale in just one day. Besides, slightly stale bread sounds better than no bread at all."
Gale looks like he contemplates this for a minute. I think I know him well enough to tell that the mention of Peeta made him want to go to the bakery even less but ultimately putting good food on the table tonight wins out. Besides, the bakery always means the possibility of running into the people who live there, so it's not like he didn't take that into consideration to begin with.
I take his arm under my own to try and brighten his spirits a little. I strike up a conversation about the spring rain and how fresh everything smells afterward and Gale, somewhat reluctantly it seems, joins in the talk. We turn the corner into the alleyway behind the bakery, seeing that the back door is wide open to let the fresh air in, and an unusual sound stops us both in our tracks. We can hear various sounds that suggests cleaning is in full motion, like scrubbing brushes working against wooden floors and wet rags being wrung over buckets of water, but the accompanying singing takes us aback to say the least. It seems to be at least three voices, all male, so presumably Peeta and his two brothers, cheerfully belting out a song I have never heard before. They're not entirely in-synch with one another and one of them is off-key, though thankfully the other two fare well enough. The song itself seems utterly ridiculous from what I can hear, though the sound is somewhat muffled and doesn't carry clearly all the way to where we are standing. But when they heartily sing a long note about what sounds to be a jar of mayonnaise I can't keep my composure. Giggling I turn to Gale, giving him a look of amused disbelief, and while he seems mostly perplexed and like he finds it utterly stupid I do see the corner of his mouth turning up a bit.
"Do we dare interrupt?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
"At least they seem in jolly spirits," I offer, stifling my giggles. It won't look good if I'm seeming to be laughing at them when I walk up to the door. "Okay, do you have the squirrels?"
Lifting the three dead animals up by their tails, Gale nods at me. He puts them back into his bag for now and stops about a yard from the open door.
"You know what, Katniss?" he says, suddenly scowling again. "Maybe… Maybe we shouldn't. Or at least come back later. This feels inappropriate somehow."
Pretending like I didn't hear him I walk up to the door and knock on it before stepping around it to the opening. The singing comes to an abrupt stop and when I look through the open doorway I'm met by three blond heads and three pairs of blue eyes looking over at me with the same surprised expression on their faces. For a brief second I almost can't tell them apart, not with all three of them sporting beards to boot. Then Peeta grins, Scotti shrugs and goes back to his task and Ryean scowls. Peeta is halfway inside one of the giant ovens, scrubbing it clean, Scotti works on cleaning the kitchen island and Ryean is on his knees on the floor, scrubbing carefully. Peeta moves back from the oven and stands up, greeting me but momentarily I'm too stunned to reply. A very uncomfortable feeling has come over me upon seeing him with ash and soot in his hair and on his face. It reminds me of the coalminers and how they look coming home at the end of the day. I don't like that look on anyone, but it looks plain wrong on Peeta. Like a violation of something that's too pure and light and gentle to be stifled by the darkness and dampness of the mines.
Swallowing hard I take a step back so that the door no longer hides Gale from my view and I turn to him and wave him over. He doesn't look pleased, but he complies. Peeta is wiping his hands on a towel and runs his arm over his brow, accidentally smudging the soot in the process. Oddly his eyes seem bluer when contrasted with the blackness of the soot but for once I don't find that it makes his eyes look more beautiful. I wish he would clean his face. I'm a little uncomfortable looking at him and I can't remember the last time that happened.
"Katniss, what a nice surprise!" he says, grinning as he sticks the towel in the back pocket of his worn and dirty jeans. "What brings you by?"
"We're closed," says Ryean dryly, glaring up at me from his spot on the floor. "As in, haven't got anything freshly baked for you." When Gale comes into his view he makes a face and looks over at his brother. The two share a look for a couple of seconds and then Ryean goes back to scrubbing.
"I was hoping we could still make a trade," I say. "Gale?"
Looking like a thundercloud Gale reaches inside his bag and produces the three squirrels but he doesn't hold them out for Peeta to inspect.
"I don't barter with the sons," he says to me. "Only with the baker."
"He's not here, so go ahead and scram, then," says Ryean.
"Rye," says Peeta, his voice reproaching as he momentarily looks over his shoulder at his older brother.
"I don't mind bartering with the present company," I say, trying to sound upbeat but feeling a bit awkward.
"Either one of us three can speak for the bakery, I assure you that," says Peeta to Gale, somehow managing a smile and a tone far friendlier than Gale has earned.
"We still have yesterday's unsold bread to trade with you," says Scotti. I'm a bit surprised, as I've rarely heard him speak. Then again I can't say that I've spent all that much time around him either. He's four years older than me and we never had any reason to interact at school. He's also much shyer and more withdrawn than his younger brothers, at least so far as I can tell.
"If we're trading for yesterday's goods then the usual rates don't apply," says Gale sourly. "At least one bread loaf more than usual."
"Hey, if it doesn't suit you then you are more than welcome to mosey on off to some other bakery," says Ryean in a tone that's equal to Gale's. He straightens his back and sits back on his haunches, the brush falling to the floor with a thud that underlines his words.
"You know what, I'll handle this particular trade," Peeta tells his cantankerous brother. If I didn't know better I'd guess he was feeling a bit embarrassed by Ryean's unfriendly behaviour. While I do find the middle Mellark boy to be far less pleasant than his charming younger brother and his polite older one, in this situation I have a hard time reproaching his conduct. Gale is deliberately provoking him, and it makes no sense to me that he would – and if it makes no sense to me, I can only imagine how little sense it makes to Ryean Mellark. Despite Gale's feelings towards merchants, and his occasional bouts of unfounded jealousy towards Peeta, this is about procuring bread to put on the table. All the other stuff should be left at the door.
"I think Scotti should do it," argues Ryean, turning to his older brother. "Peete will probably trade goods worth a hog in exchange for a squirrel."
"I think you should be quiet and get back to work," says Scotti coolly. He looks over at us and him and Peeta share a look. "You know Father's usual trade rate?" he asks. Peeta nods. "Alright then. But be quick about it." He resumes his work cleaning the kitchen island, stretching to reach the far end. "Those ovens won't clean themselves."
With disbelief I look from one of the large ovens to the next. There are no less than five in total, and even the smallest is at least twice the size of ours at home.
"You have to clean all of the ovens?" I ask Peeta.
"That's what you get for being the baby," says Ryean, diligently scrubbing away again. I'm almost taken aback by the uncommon sound of mirth in his voice. "He's smallest, so he can reach better inside them."
"Never wanted a younger sister more than I do during spring cleaning," says Peeta, jesting but his voice a touch strained.
"Can we get this over with?" sighs Gale, rolling his eyes.
"How many squirrels do you want to trade?" Peeta asks in return, all polite and business like, hands on his hips.
"You can count to three?" Gale shoots back, holding the squirrels up.
"Stop it," I hiss at him under my breath. I try to look like I'm not in the company of a boyfriend seemingly suffering from a large lump of coal up his ass as I turn back to Peeta. "All three, if you'll agree to it."
"Sounds perfect." Peeta smiles warmly at me as he says it, eyes distractingly blue, teeth white, dimple showing. I smile back on autopilot and for a moment we both seem to forget what we were even talking about, content to just look and smile at one another. It's been a while since we last spoke other than in passing.
Gale, of course, can be counted upon to bring me back to the present moment.
"Do you want to trade with us, or do you want to ogle my girlfriend?" he asks with barely contained anger, crossing his arms over his chest so abruptly that the three squirrels sway in his hand, knocking against each other.
"He wants to ogle your girlfriend," answers Ryean dryly, dipping his brush in a bucket of water sitting beside him.
"Would you shut up, Ryean?" sighs Scotti under his breath.
"You are both being idiots," I say sternly, my eyes going from Gale to Ryean and back again. I glance quickly at Peeta, but his head is turned in his brother's direction.
"Ryean, two loafs of walnut bread and two with raisin."
"I'm not getting up."
"Notice how my voice didn't go up at the end? Not a question." Peeta keeps his eyes on his older brother as Ryean, who is glaring back at him, slowly rises to his feet and walks three paces over to a cupboard. "And throw in that bag of cookies Mother wanted us to toss. To make up for you being an abject pain in the ass to the people who are bringing you the squirrel you're going to eat when you're done scrubbing."
"I'll get the damn bread," answers Ryean icily, opening the cupboard and grabbing four loaves of bread and shoving them into paper bags, never taking his eyes off his brother. "But you can forget the cookies. The hogs are a better use for them."
"We wouldn't take any cookies from you anyway," answers Gale sourly. "We don't take charity. The bread will do."
I can tell from the look on Ryean's face that he has an acid reply in mind, but he manages to summon the strength to keep from saying it. He walks slowly back to where he was scrubbing and holds out the bags of bread, making Peeta walk over to him and take them. I think to myself that the middle child of the family must be the one who takes after their mother the most, even his scornful facial expression reminds me of the baker's wife, but he did get the bread when Peeta asked him to, which surprised me. Maybe it's the presence of their older brother that does it. Scotti is finishing up cleaning the kitchen island and doesn't spare us even a glance, but he seems to be the mediator between his brothers nonetheless.
Peeta walks back to the door and offers the bags of bread to Gale, who hands the squirrels to me and promptly puts the bread in his game bag. Paying no mind to Gale's sour mood Peeta turns to me as I hold out the dead animals. I know he deliberately lets his hand stay on mine for a moment more than necessary when they pass from my hand to his, and while his face is fairly neutral I can see in his eyes that he's smiling at me on the inside.
"Thank you," he says when he pulls his hand back. "These will be a fine reward for us once we're done with all this cleaning." He sighs and makes a face. "You know, probably just in time for next year's spring cleaning."
"It will take even longer if you keep standing there wasting air instead of cleaning ovens," comments Ryean in a bit of a sing-song voice.
"I remember last month when you had laryngitis," says Peeta with another sigh. "Best week of the year so far."
To my surprise Ryean looks up from his scrubbing and grins at his brother, and Peeta chuckles slightly in return. The mood then changes with the sound of footsteps descending the wooden stairs leading between the bakery and the apartment above. Gale and I both freeze, figuring it must be Mrs. Mellark, and Peeta's tense expression as he turns his head in the direction of the sound seems to confirm our assumption.
"Uhm, you'd better go," he says in a regretful tone. "My mother doesn't particularly like bartering at the door. She prefers more… traditional ways of exchanging goods."
Gale scowls deeply, sticking his hands in his back pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I take a step to the side to avoid being seen, and Gale does the same. He looks like he's about to say something but thankfully Mrs. Mellark's voice cuts him off before he's even begun.
"How is everything going down here?" I can barely hide my surprise. Her tone is pleasant, jovial even. Peeta doesn't react, which actually gives me the impression that it's not uncommon for him to hear it. "Why don't you take a break, boys? I brought you something to drink."
We hear Scotti and Ryean reacting favourably to this news. From the sound of it Ryean unceremoniously drops his brush on the floor, seemingly eager to get something to drink. Even Peeta's eyes light up, making me wonder what it is she's brought them. He turns back to Gale and me and smiles crookedly.
"I'll see you later, Katniss," he whispers. "Have a great day, both of you."
"Where's Peeta?" Mrs. Mellark asks from inside the bakery. "Scotti, go easy on the juice. Save some for your brother."
"You'd better go, or you'll miss out," I say awkwardly.
"Bye." Peeta nods at Gale and flashes me a very quick smile before disappearing from sight.
"Let's get going, already," mutters Gale, beginning to walk away without waiting to see if I'm following.
I cast another look at the open door to the bakery, hearing the unexpected sounds of laughter coming from inside. Then I turn my face forward and decide not to think about the bakery more for the moment. It was lovely seeing Peeta again, if only for a brief moment, but I wish I had sent Gale to the Hob to get started on trading the rabbits so that I could have bartered with Peeta by myself.
"You know, he's not my partner any longer," I point out as we walk back out onto the larger road. "You shouldn't have been rude to him when he was, but now you've got even less reason to."
"I don't like the way he looks at you," says Gale curtly.
"Oh please!" I cry in a scoff. "I've seen you give lewder looks than that to girls, and even before he knew about you and me Peeta never tried to invite me to the slag heap, so stop acting like you think he's incapable of thinking with his head when he's around girls. Even if he was, do you really feel you should be one to talk?"
His jaw drops, and he stares at me, eyes wide with incredulity, and I raise a challenging eyebrow at him in return. Then he actually blushes and looks away, clenching his jaw but saying nothing for about a minute. His hands find their way into his pockets, then his arms wrap across his chest.
"Let's just drop it, shall we? I don't want the entire day ruined by some other guy."
"Fine. But may I remind you that you're the one letting him ruin our day."
"Yeah," he scoffs. "I could tell you were enjoying his company."
"People usually do when they see their friends." I sigh. "Usually."
"He's got a thing for you, and you're not exactly discouraging him."
"If I was flirting with him, if I insisted on stopping by the bakery just so I could – what was that word you used – ogle him, do you honestly believe I would have brought my boyfriend along?"
He says nothing but doesn't seem entirely convinced, which offends me. I mean, yeah, it's true, I did want to trade at the bakery partially because I wanted to say hi to Peeta. But not for any inappropriate reasons. Besides, while I knew they were doing their spring cleaning today I had no way of knowing that Peeta would be there. He could have been in the store, or up in their living quarters. His wretched mother could have answered the door. Gale keeps getting himself worked up for no reason and he keeps acting in ways that are very unbecoming.
"I wasn't even in the mood for bread," I hear him mutter under his breath after a minute.
"Gale," I groan. "Why can't we just… have a good time together? Forget about everyone else. A few weeks back you accused me of thinking of other things when we're alone together, but if you ask me, you are the one who keeps bringing other people and other things into the equation."
He gives me another look, one that suggests something that I said got through to him. I wait for him to say something, meanwhile wondering to myself yet again if the time has come to make my final decision – am I in, or out? Right now though I feel as if I never get the chance to properly evaluate what it's like to be a couple with him. There's always something else interfering – the large amount of schoolwork that I have, the pressure of finding a job this summer… my friendship, or whatever it should be called, with Peeta… Ought I to distance myself from Peeta for a while, now that the project is over? Give Gale a chance when it's just him and me, no other boys involved in any capacity? Peeta is a temptation of sorts, an attractive boy whose company I feel good in, someone I could easily run towards if I felt I needed an out from being with Gale. Not that I ever would – I couldn't do that to Gale and I couldn't treat Peeta that way either. He is more than means to an end, and I can't ever allow myself to grow closer to him physically unless it's for his own sake, and not as an escape route. All in all though, Peeta does present some complications, and perhaps it might be best to not seek out his company for a while, at least until I've figured out where things stand with Gale.
Only the problem is, school ends in just a few more weeks. After that, who knows when I will spend time with Peeta Mellark again? If I want there to be a friendship between us that survives after graduation I can't distance myself from him now.
We turn a corner and I glance at Gale, wondering if he will say anything further on the subject we just discussed. I notice that his focus has shifted elsewhere, though.
"Damn," he mutters as we both look upward and see the dark, greyish purple clouds looming over the Seam. It may only be April but by the looks of those clouds we might be looking at the first thunderstorm of the year. Neither one of us has a fear of lightning but neither one of us would enjoy getting caught in the downpour that usually follows thunder. It's rained enough already in my opinion, but it seems the skies would disagree.
"You think we can make it if we make a run for it?" I ask.
"No," he says flatly.
I squint to see better at a distance and I notice what he's already realized. It's already pouring down rain over the Seam. We're going to get soaked, unless we stay at the Hob and wait it out. I look over at him and he meets my eyes. Then he smiles faintly, his first real smile of the day, and I know we're thinking the same thing. It's been a while since we last spent an hour or more at the Hob, socializing with the traders there and enjoying Greasy Sae's stew.
"Race you to the Hob," I say and then I take off running before he can reply. Behind me I hear him cry out that I'm cheating, though his tone is amused, not upset. Gale is faster than I am, but I am more secure on my feet and the rain that's already fallen, and the mushy half-melted snow, makes the ground beneath us slippery, and filled with puddles and specks of mud which you do best to avoid. As we race over the town square with its cobbled stones he nearly slips and loses his balance just as he's about to pass me.
"Shit!" I hear him exclaim seconds later, as he comes close to falling a second time.
"Come on now, Hawthorne!" I call out to him without looking over my shoulder to meet his eyes. "We're halfway there and I'm way ahead of you!"
I smile, almost feeling like laughing. How long has it been since we did something like this, something childlike and fun with no care to how we might look to everyone else who is still out and about in these moments before the rain will start to fall? Gale seems to have grown up so much in the past few years, become a serious adult who frowns upon acting like a fool in public, and truth be told I've never been one to enjoy that kind of thing. Right now though it just feels like fun, like a moment of reprieve in which we can both get a brief outlet for all the pent-up anxiety over the looming reaping and everything else that is to come. I'm reminded of another race, taking place indoors earlier this year, but I cast the memory aside and focus on staying ahead of my competitor. As we turn a corner and dart towards the Hob, now only a hundred yards or so away, Gale catches up to me and passes me, sending me a grin in the process. I shake my head, determined not to let him win so easily, and make an effort to run faster. It's been a while since I last ran any longer distance and my mouth is starting to get a metallic taste and my side is starting to cramp, but I suck it up and push a bit further. Gale still beats me, with just a couple of paces to spare, but I don't mind it when I hear his laughter mixed with his panting breaths as he presses his left palm against the wall and leans over a bit. I don't join him in his laughter, but I smile slightly at him as I sink down against the wall and fight to catch my own breath. It's not that we're out of shape, it's just that our exercise rarely constitutes of racing one another like this. As hunters we've become sprinters more than long-distance runners.
"Looks like I beat you after all, Catnip," pants Gale, grinning widely. He stands up straight and holds his hand out to me. "Come on, we should head inside before the rain hits."
I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet, refusing to let on that I could use another couple of minutes of rest before getting back up. I press my lips to his for a few seconds and the look of surprise in his eyes when we part makes me grin too. I don't think I've ever kissed him in public before.
"What?" I say, trying my best to sound coquettish and probably failing miserably since I'm still trying to catch my breath. "The winner deserves a prize, no?"
Without waiting for a response from him I head inside the Hob, Gale following right behind me, and we each find ourselves a chair to sit on right by the door. I take our bags and place them in my lap, feeling better when I feel the weight of them, knowing that they contain not only meat from the woods but goodies from the bakery. We have not been seated for long before the rain begins to fall, and I am instantly glad that we decided to go here instead of trying to outrun the clouds.
"For crying out loud!" yells Darius, coming running into the Hob with a newspaper feebly held up over his helmet-less head, as if that would shield him successfully from the heavy rain. "Why does it always have to be bad weather when I'm on duty?"
"When are you ever not on duty?" teases Gale good-naturedly. He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, looking comfortably and dry compared to Darius. The peacekeeper gives him a look and flicks the soaked newspaper at him.
"The better question is, what do you even do when you're on duty?" I say, a line I would probably never dare give any other peacekeeper but Darius.
"The pair of you are well on your way to be ordered out to clean the street," replies Darius, leaning forward and shaking his wet red hair like a dog, droplets of water flying everywhere. "How's that for something I do when I'm on duty?"
He hollers out for Greasy Sae to bring him some stew to warm him up, even though it's not cold out, just raining. While he waits for the food he takes a seat next to Gale and the two of them begin to talk, mostly about what we've caught in the woods today and if we're trading anything. I barely listen. My attention is on the scene outside, the rain pouring down in a manner that is almost transfixing. It's not just a lot of rain, it's real heavy rain, the kind that tends to accompany thunder. The raindrops look big and fat and come pouring down from the sky in a way that makes it splash from the pavement and the puddles, the latter almost looking like they're boiling. Then comes the first bright flash and I close my eyes and count in my head. When the rumble comes I determine it to be about three kilometres away, probably in the direction of home. It's rare to have thunder at this time of year, when the temperature is still fairly low, but it happens every now and then. I feel a sudden longing to be home and wish I hadn't decided to be comfortable and aim for riding this out at the Hob. Prim gets nervous during thunder, though she thoroughly denies it, and the closer the lightning is the more uncomfortable she naturally gets. I wish I was at home with her.
Another bright flash comes, and I open my eyes this time, again counting and this time determining the lightning to be further away. Gale and Darius are still talking, leaning in closer to one another now, and at this point the sound of their voices has gotten too overpowered by the roaring of the downpour for me to be able to tell what they are saying. I breathe in deeply, as always enjoying the fresh smell of the rain, and my eyes catch a flock of blackbirds flying fast through the nasty weather. It almost seems odd that they are able to fly with such ease when the rain rattles down this heavily. I don't envy them. For the most part I feel bad for animals caught in nasty weather, though the thought of Buttercup being outside somewhere, getting his fur showered, brings a petty smile to my face. He could use a downpour to clean his coat, anyway.
"Should I get you some stew?"
Gale's voice brings me back to the present and I look up at him, nodding slightly.
"Sure. Yeah, thanks."
"See, if you had taken up with a merchant guy you would never have been treated to such culinary treasures," he smirks, wiggling an eyebrow, clearly trying to be funny. I smile half-heartedly and let the bags slide down on the floor.
"You had your eye on a merchant guy?" questions Darius, using a piece of bread he must have brought with him to soak up more of the stew Sae just brought him, putting it in his mouth with a loud smacking sound.
"No."
"Good. You should leave those folks alone." He grins at me. "They're too fragile. You'd break a guy like that in half within a week."
"Lucky I never considered dating a peacekeeper, then," I retort. "You and your kind wouldn't survive an hour with me."
He laughs heartily, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Hawthorne's got his hands full with you, I'll bet."
"You really have nothing better to do with your time?" I question with a scowl. "What do they pay you lot for?"
"Keeping peace," he grins.
"By disturbing it for decent folk?"
He raises an eyebrow at me while shovelling another large spoonful of food in his mouth, and I can't help but chuckle. His eyes go wide, and he whistles.
"Did I just hear Katniss Everdeen giggling?" he asks while chewing.
"That was not a giggle," I say decisively. Then I shrug a shoulder. "It was a chortle. At best."
"You know, I'm almost disappointed in you," he claims, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, the now empty bowl in his hands. "But in the end, probably relieved."
"Why is that?"
"That even you can put aside that sourpuss face and start giggling – sorry, chortling – like a besotted schoolgirl, once you became besotted."
"You really are bored, aren't you Darius?" I question, caught somewhere between amusement and feeling uncomfortable. Does he think I only chuckled a moment ago because I'm in love? What kind of insane logic is that?
"Oh, and speaking of…"
I look up at his words to find Gale approaching, two steaming hot bowls of stew, one in each hand. With a smile he hands me one and sits down beside me, hungrily wolfing down the food the moment he's in the chair.
"Think Sae would like to trade with us?" I ask him, taking a bite out of my own food. The chunk of meat in my mouth is chewy and doesn't taste of much but the bits of potato swimming around on the plate look mouth-watering.
"Nah," says Gale, talking with his mouth full. "Barter with the hard-working peacekeeper here instead. I've decided to keep my rabbit, so he'll happily buy yours."
He resumes his conversation with Darius and I eat my stew in silence, listening to the rain and thunder outside, breathing in the pleasant combination of hot food and fresh rainfall. My mind then goes to Peeta, and I wonder how he's doing with those ovens. By now their break must be well over, and the three of them back to cleaning. I remember how kind and pleasant their mother sounded when she came down the stairs. I've never heard that woman sound so agreeable. It's hard to believe she's the same woman who hit him so badly all those years ago for the crime of burning some bread. I decide I'm glad I heard it. I'm glad Peeta gets treated kindly from time to time by his mother. I shove another spoonful of stew in my mouth, chewing slowly on the meat, picturing Peeta at the end of the day, enjoying the squirrel I brought. Slowly a smile creeps onto my face.
Darius' hand pats me on the shoulder and I look up.
"Well, Everdeen, I'm off. Out to risk life and limb in the hard rains. Your lover here sold me one of the rabbits, get the cash from him." He gives me a friendly smile. "Good to see you're smiling again – this makes twice in fifteen minutes. Besotted, besotted…"
This might be the first time I wrote Darius, and it was quite fun, so he might be returning.
The song Peeta and his brothers sing is something entirely fictional, and I have no idea what the lyrics would be. The part about a jar of mayonnaise sounds ridiculous, I know. I ended up writing it in because I came to think of a Don Rosa story (the best duck cartoonist ever - yes, IMHO better than Carl Barks), in which Donald and the nephews sing a song which includes a line about a jar of mayonnaise. At least I seem to remember that it does, but I could be mistaken. This is in the Swedish translation, so I have no clue what the original line was. Anyway, I just thought it was randomly cute.
Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.