Chapter 2:
We walked through what I assumed was their main street. Neither bothered to fill me in on my new surroundings. Both were clearly reluctant to be any sort of tour guide, and I didn't dare break the silence of our trek.
I knew it was going to be a bleak place, but nothing could have prepared me for the shantyville that was Twelve. It was as though the town as a whole was in some sort of secret contest to win the prize for ugliest building. Even their Justice building was dilapidated. We had stopped in momentarily to file some paperwork, and I was issued a 'temporary' ID. Though, nothing about my situation or my stay in Twelve was temporary. The clerk behind the desk was a young man with a hooknose, and glasses. I swear his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw me. I knew I wasn't the prettiest girl around, but good grief, there was no need to be so rude! I sighed, as he handed me the plastic badge, and tried to keep the testiness from my voice as I thanked him. As we left, silence followed us.
At the end of the street I saw what was likely meant to be some sort of park. It was completely deserted. Such an odd sight, having grown up in a metropolis.
"Where is everyone?" I couldn't help but ask.
"School… work." Haymitch shrugged. Talkative, that one. I just made a simple nod. The schooling must be quite different here. I had gone to the Malkin Refinishing Academy for Young Ladies. I doubted if they even had a Refinishing Academy in Twelve. And as for a job, well I had never needed one before. I looked about, wondering if I was expected to get one now? The only thing I was good at was practiced affectation, and I highly doubted they desired an etiquette teacher here. I had focused in the field of culinary arts, but everyone in the Capitol knew that was just an M.R.S degree. Any wellborn lady hoping to snag a rich and influential husband had to be well versed in the art of homemaking with a certain flair for entertaining. None of these things would serve me well here. Such skills were useless outside the realm of polite society. Not that it mattered, as it was very unlikely I would ever get married now anyway. I pretended like that thought didn't break my heart.
By the time we made it past the school my feet were aching from my pumps, pinching my toes and rubbing the skin on my heel raw. But I kept with their grueling pace, not wanting to slow them down. Not wanting to appear weak. Despite the early spring day, a light sheen of sweat had broken out across my forehead and chest, and I shifted the bags on my arms restlessly. I walked a few yards behind the two quiet men as I pondered their relationship. They seemed content in their silence. It was companionable, that of friends perhaps? I looked at the back of Gale's head. The skin of his neck was bronzed a golden brown, even this early in the year, and I wondered if he worked outside. He must have been some sort of laborer. His calloused and dirty hands certainly suggested as much, not to mention the muscles peeking out of his pushed up sleeves. His shoulders were wide and toned, and he stood a full foot taller than Haymitch. None of the young men in the capitol had a laborers' build. And it was rare to see one so tall. They were generally thin, but rather doughy at the same time. Soft, pudgy even. Perhaps that was why all the women went gaga for the career tributes each year. Bodies built by hard labor were certainly far more appealing.
He suddenly glanced back at me, pulling me from my thoughts as my eyes locked with his dark, seering gaze. With a disgruntled sigh, he suddenly turned towards me and grabbed both of my other bags gruffly. Without a word, he turned back around and fell into stride with Haymitch. I gaped at him for a moment, unsure if I should be grateful or thoroughly shocked and appalled. In the end, I was thankful as my burning shoulders tingled with relief.
As we came upon the entrance to the cul-de-sac of vacant mansions of the Victors Village I felt a chill work its way up my spine. The houses were like living ghosts of the dead tributes that would never live within their walls. Only three houses on the long street were occupied. They sat across the circle from each other in triangle formation, and the only sign that anyone lived in them was the three green lawns.
The two men broke off towards the house on the left of the street, and I followed along, as the road turned from dirt to cobblestone. The dirt had been difficult in heels, but the cobblestone was so unevenly laid that it was nearly impossible. I was thankful when we reached the smooth flagstone drive. Suddenly, the front door of the house swung wide and a middle-aged woman with gracious eyes stepped out onto the front porch. She was flanked by three children. It was obvious on first glance that she was related to Gale. They had the same hair, eyes and coloring, though her countenance seemed considerably more amiable.
"Hello Arie, and welcome!" She walked forward and instantly embraced me in a bone crushing hug. Pulling back, she made a quick introduction "I'm Hazelle Hawthorne, and these are my children Rory, Vic, and this is Posy." I smiled because hers was simply contagious. It was also the polite thing to do. She continued with a wave, "Of course you've already met my oldest, Gale." Oh yes, I had certainly met her sourpuss of a son.
"Hello Hazel," I managed as I looked between the three attractive children surrounding her, "It's lovely to meet you all." My tone betrayed my words. It came out weak, and radiated with unease. My elocution teacher would have been appalled. Posy stood just behind her Mother, peeking around her shyly as she looked up at me with a small smile. Likely having just entered grade school, she was a little beauty with her pretty dark ringlets tucked into a ponytail. Vick was older, probably just about to enter junior high, and he had an impish sparkle to his young dark eyes. A heart-breaker in the making, no doubt. I gave him a little smile, which only caused his own, to widen. However, when I looked at Rory, who was clearly in the prime of his adolescence, I nearly slapped him for the way he shamelessly eyed my breasts.
"How was your journey? Are you hungry?" Hazelle quickly ushered me into the house, and I was glad to pass out of her son's obvious eye line.
I didn't really know what to expect walking in to my new home. I suppose I expected the inside to look like Haymitch on the outside. A bit unkempt, disheveled even. But the home I walked into, though modest by Capitol standards, was absolutely charming.
It smelled like new paint, and all the walls where bright and crisp in various shades of neutral and comforting tones. The floors were a rich dark wood with a lacquer upon them that made them shine gloriously. The front entry held a simple wrought iron pendant light fixture and the table along the wall had fresh wild flowers in a an old jar. Facing me was a white staircase to upstairs and a hallway that ran presumably towards the kitchen. Off the main entrance were two sitting rooms it appeared.
"Well, I'll show you to your room first, and then give you the tour," Hazelle started up the steps, Posy trailing her, much the same way I did my own mother at six. I glanced at Haymitch who was looking at me expectantly, and all at once it fully hit me.
This was my life now.
A terrifying panic gripped and twisted my lungs until they burned. This sudden onslaught of trepidation must have shown plainly upon my face, because Haymitch frowned. I should have cared enough to conceal my emotions, but I was too consumed, thoroughly drowning behind my eyes in that surging chaotic hysteria.
"Are you coming, dear?"
And just like that it snapped. It was suddenly gone in such a way as though it had never happened. My mind was free and clear, my breath steady and my heart rate dropping. I started towards the steps, and once again found Gale's keen dark eyes fastened upon me. I looked away as though burned by it. What was his problem!? To say he unnerved me, would have been a gross understatement. I nearly screamed, when I heard him following me up the stair. I just wanted more than anything to be out of his unsettling presence, but then I remembered my bags. He was just helping to deliver them to my room. I forced my self to take a steadying breath, but only grew further annoyed when it shuddered through me on the exhale, revealing to all my current state of distress.
The hall at the top of the stairs was bright and sunny with a lead-paned window on each end of the corridor. Hazel led me off to the corner room facing the back yard.
"Well, this is your room," Her voice was overly cheery, probably in an attempt to soothe. Opening the white door, she stood back to let me in.
The first thing I noticed was the light…. the second, the color. It was about the size of my room in our apartment in the city, though it had far more windows being a corner room and it was absolutely flooded with natural light. The walls where a vibrant light blue that seemed to glow with all the sunlight pouring into the room. My heart clenched at the color.
"Uh…Haymitch said he remembered your mother being fond of a flower this color… but we can paint it to whatever you like." Hazel was clearly nervous of my reaction. Surely they had vacillated at length over whether or not to paint it this shade of indigo.
"Bachelor Buttons…" I couldn't help it as tears filled my eyes as a wistfulness overtook me, "It's a weed," I mumbled, though not really to Hazelle, not really to anyone, "She grew them on our balcony." I clenched my teeth and willed the water in my eyes to recede. Turning to Hazel I placed my small ivory hand on her tanned forearm, "It's lovely." I tried to sound reassuring, and I hoped the desperate emotion in my voice didn't leak through. She looked truly pleased, and for some reason it bothered me. I felt a tear slip free, so I turned away, discreetly smoothing the lone tear along my jawline with my knuckle. How they had managed to mix such a shade was perplexing. Not quite blue, not quite lavender, but rather, the most elegant hue in between. With the natural light, the whole room glowed brilliantly.
The four-poster bed was a gentle ivory and looked brand new with a white matelassé coverlet, and matching pillows. The nightstand, dresser and vanity in front of the largest window all matched. It was an immaculate and well-appointed room. For a moment, my heart felt glad. It was a far cry from my usual flashy taste, but I could appreciate the attempt at symmetry. The modest materials held a certain charm in their simplicity.
My eyes landed on the ivory bench at the end of the bed, and I noticed the most beautiful decal of Bachelor Buttons painted across it. I touched it hesitantly with my fingers tracing the pattern. "How nice."
"Hmm?" Hazel asked, as she busied her self with linens on the dresser top, "Oh Peeta painted that. He lived with his family two houses over." I noticed Gale's jaw involuntarily clench in the vanity mirror's reflection.
"Lived?" I asked at her use of the past tense.
"Oh, yes, well he lives across the street now… with his wife, Katniss and her family. They'll all be coming over for dinner tomorrow night to meet you," She paused, and I could tell she was uneasy to ask the next question, "Did you watch their…season?"
"Oh… no, not really, only the… highlights, I guess." Highlights? I could have picked a hundred better words.
"Mmmm," Hazel made a non-committal noise, and looked at me seriously, "If you don't mind me asking…when did your mother tell you… about Haymitch, I mean?"
"No, it's fine," I waved my hand casually, my voice dull and flat. "Well…she told me when I was fifteen… It was just after she found out… she was sick. We didn't know how much time she'd… well anyway, she thought I should know."
"You poor poor dear, so much upheaval these last four years," Hazel all but jerked me into another bone crushing hug. I didn't like it. I could tell she was being genuine, but I didn't want to be hugged by her. It wasn't fair of me to pull away so quickly when she was just trying to be kind and comforting.
It was clear her son, who awkwardly loomed in the doorway, did not seem to share his mother's sentiments. Disdain radiated off of him in waves. Upon first impression, it seemed unlikely we would ever be friends. Posy, who stood next to him, rested her head upon his hip as though it was the most natural thing to do. Apparently his disdain was reserved solely for me… and perhaps those like me.
"Well, Haymitch and I are at the far end of the hall. You're room is next to Posy's and Rory and Vick share the large room across the hall. This room has it's own bathroom like ours. The kids will share the one in the hall."
As Hazel rattled on, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Haymitch was shacking up with this lady. She was not a housekeeper… but rather a house occupant. This I did not expect. Though, it did put me at ease slightly. The thought of living with Haymitch all alone was terrifying. At least there would be the buffer of this nice lady and her children. I noticed she had not mentioned Gale's room, and breathed a further sigh of relief. Hopefully he lived in the town somewhere. He was certainly too old to be living at home with his parents. Suddenly, the congenial silence I had witnessed before made sense. It was that of Psuedo-Step Father and Stepson. How odd.
"Gale, lives in the apartment over the carriage house, his workshop is just below." Hazel pointed out the window, by my bed. I nearly cringed. That was still far too close for comfort. I looked out the window and realized I had a clear vantage point of the large detached garage. To my dismay, I could see right into the window that looked into his second story apartment. Those shades would be coming down at once!
Hazel looked at her son, and noticed the bags.
"You didn't bring much?" Hazel asked gently.
"I didn't really think my former attire would…. fit in… here." I swallowed hard, and could nearly feel Gale's glare on me. I highly doubt any of them had ever referred to the clothes they wore as 'attire'.
"I see… well, just in case, I picked up a few things for you." She opened the small closet and a few pastel colored cotton dresses in delicate prints hung neatly inside. They were nothing like the elegant clothes of the Capitol, but I was surprised that the notion of wearing them didn't cause me to vomit. Were these considered 'fine dresses' by Twelve standards? Was I looking at the height of cultural fashion for Twelve? Hazel continued, "Anything you don't like we can resell."
"No, I'm sure they will do quite well," I managed to muster what I hoped was a genuine smile. I would be remiss if I didn't thank such obvious forethought and kindness.
"Oh! I need to get you some towels!" Hazel announced, as she realized the shelf in the closet was empty. Posy, eager to help disappeared into the hall, followed by her mother.
Gale shifted awkwardly on his feet, and cleared his throat,
"Where a…" and suddenly I realized he was still carrying my bags.
"Oh… um, just anywhere is fine," I intended to sound self-posessed, but it came out far to airy. He set them down roughly on the painted bench, covering completely the design. I contemplated this action far more than was neccessay. I was further surprised that he didn't immediately turn to leave.
"So, do you need help?" It was the most lackluster offer of aid I had ever heard in my life. I suppose he said it to be polite, or because his mother had told him to, either way, I nearly had a mind to tell him 'yes' just to mortify him. He began to rub the back of his neck, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"No… thank you, though." And then I did the single worst thing I could have ever done. It was a knee-jerk reaction from years of living in a culture that included servitude, but that was not really an excuse. Without thinking, I reached for my pocketbook to hand him a tip. As I flipped it open I realized what I was doing, and a wave of white-hot mortification washed over me. I froze, not daring to look up. Thankfully, I noticed a tube of lip-gloss hidden in between the bills. My emergency stash! I whipped it out at once and slathered it on as if that was my intention all along. It was a deep brownish plum, and when I looked back at Gale, he couldn't keep the disgust off his face at what he must have thought a queer color to paint ones lips. He shook his head, and left at once.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I wiped the gloss off on the back of my hand, and chucked the tube into the trash basin by my vanity. Insult adverted.