I walked home in a near-daze. What had just come out of my mouth? Was it true? Of course it was true, I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't. And it just flowed off my tongue like water. Of course I loved Peeta. I meant it even more the second time. It was easy to see that he meant it when he said it back to me. I had honestly felt that from him for a long time, though never as intensely as I'd felt it in the past few days.
I wanted to stay with him, and that made me feel horrible. Prim was a wreck before I'd even left the house; she needed me and I couldn't stay away. Not to mention Mom's plan for dinner. We were going to the Hawthorne's, and she'd spent quite a bit on food to take with us.
The meal was tense and quiet. What little conversation went on was stunted, brief, or between the kids. Posy refused to eat unless she sat in Gale's lap, and I couldn't help but wonder just how much she understood about what was going on. It seemed to be enough. Once she'd cleared more of her plate than any of the rest of us could manage, she relocated to Rory's lap instead. I couldn't help but think the meal would have been better served in a day or two, when one way or another our nerves would have settled enough to actually taste what was in front of us. At least there would be plenty of leftovers. After we'd finished, while Mom and Hazelle argued halfheartedly over where all of the extra food would end up, Gale and I slipped out back and sat on the steps.
"Did I tell you Rory went and put his name in for tesserae behind my back?" Gale asked.
"You're kidding," I said, watching him shake his head and stare out over the yard.
"Apparently teaching him to hunt isn't enough," he frowned. "Stubborn little shit."
"Wonder where he gets that from," I said. Gale snorted and nudged me with his elbow. I understood his frustration though. That was something he'd never get back, even if he didn't do it again. Those extra slips would follow him until his last Reaping. My worst fear was Prim doing the same, though in the past few months it had become a more abstract one, as our circumstances improved. Even if we suddenly lost the income and extra food that had come to us by way of the Mellarks, I'd managed to accumulate some real savings; more money than we'd ever had at one time. We'd be okay until I figured something else out. Prim would never struggle with what I did right after Dad died and before Mom's work picked up. "You know if you take that job and it pays half as well as it pays Phyl, I'm pretty sure they'll be fine."
"Yeah, I made up my mind about that," he said, looking away from me. "I'm sure you'll hear all about it when you see Madge tomorrow."
"I'm guessing she got her way, since she hasn't turned up in a rage to rant at me about you," I smirked, waiting for a reaction from him.
"I already regret it," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm just glad you don't have to go into the mines," I said, really turning the idea over in my head for a moment. The realization dulled the sharp edge of my anxiety about the next day, knowing, at least, that after tomorrow Gale would be safe. Not just from the Games but from the same grueling life that kills everyone in the Seam one way or another.
"Neither of us have to," he said, nudging my knee with his. I smiled to myself, happy to hear someone say I'd keep working at the bakery. I certainly wanted to stay; even if it was part time, it was enough. I wouldn't beat the pay in the mines unless I managed to work my way to foreman or higher. That wasn't the only reason I wanted to stay, though.
"Peeta told me he loved me today," I said after a few moments of silence. Gale looked at me, breaking into a slow smile.
"Well, it's about fucking time," he said. I chuckled, biting my lip and doing my best not to look at him. "You'd better have told him, too."
"I said it first," I said quietly.
"Wow," he said. I snapped my head toward him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he laughed. "I'm impressed, Catnip. Good for you."
"Okay, weirdo," I said, getting up and pushing his shoulder as I went back into the house. He followed behind me, and our families said our goodbyes before Mom, Prim and I returned home. I'd see Gale again in the morning, though I honestly doubted either of us would get much sleep. I could face the Reaping exhausted, but I couldn't face it without a few hours in the woods with him first.
Prim was pale and shaky when we went to bed. She'd been excessively quiet all night, the fear on her face made her look years younger. I hummed to her softly as she curled up in my arms the way she did when she was little. I couldn't help but think about my own first Reaping, and the strange mix of terror and relief it brought. We'd so desperately needed the tesserae then, and the relief felt bitter with the extra chances I'd thrown in for myself. She'd been afraid for me then, moreso every year as she understood exactly what it meant, and how many times my name really was in that bowl. And now had to add fear for herself onto it.
"Katniss!" Prim sobbed, winding her hand in the back of my shirt and burying her face against my neck. I'd managed to nod off somehow, and woke to her trembling and pressing as close to me as possible. "Please. Please, wake up."
"I'm awake," I murmured, wrapping her in my arms and forcing my eyes open. "I'm here, Duck. I'm up. It was just a dream; it's okay. It's not going to be you."
"It was you," she said, her voice catching in her throat. I wanted to tell her it wouldn't be me, either, but I didn't really believe it. I tried what I'd told Peeta, listed the chances of our neighbors and the girls more likely to be drawn than me. It worked until I mentioned her best friend's older sister before realizing just what I was saying and she began to sob again. I combed my fingers through her hair, working her braid loose as I tried to lull her back to sleep.
She woke off and on until the sky began to lighten, and did her best to cling to me when I slipped out of bed to dress and head out to the woods. It took a song and a promise to take her to the bakery the following week for her to let me go quietly, and I made it to the other side of the fence as the sky shifted to an electric blue. Gale was already waiting on the ridge when I arrived. We sat in silence, watching the sky shift from electric blue to bright white as the sun rose under cloud cover behind us.
"Y'know, I used to sit out here and fantasize about running away," Gale said, watching as I pulled the bread, cheese and tea I'd brought for breakfast out of my bag. I glanced up at him, passing him the thermos and shifting until I was facing him. "Take you with me. The kids. Our moms. Somehow. Anything to get away from all of this. And now I'm getting ready to take a job with the fucking government. What the hell happened, Catnip?"
"Madge," I said, unwrapping the bread and passing him the knife I'd packed before he could try slicing it with his hunting knife. "You fell in love, you big softie." He chuckled, a faint bit of color rising to his cheeks.
"Yeah, and look who else did," he said, grinning at me and stuffing the heel he'd cut from the loaf into his mouth.
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes before changing the subject completely. We bickered about what to do with the rest of our morning; hunt or walk the snare line. I won, and after we finished eating we worked our way along the snares back toward the District, stopping at one of the berry patches so Gale would have something to bring Madge before the Reaping. The day was getting hot, though it wasn't enough to burn through the clouds overhead. I liked that better. Even though by the time we got into town and stood around the square for the hours it would take to get it over with we'd be drenched in sweat from the humidity, it felt more appropriate than the indifferent cheeriness of sunshine.
Prim was already getting ready once I got home. We were meeting up with the Mellarks at the bakery first, then heading across town together. The house was tense and quiet as I bathed and dressed, and I did my best to reassure Prim as Mom pinned back my hair. I felt like I was just repeating the same things, but the more I talked the less she seemed to panic. On the way into town she kept a firm grip on my hand, her palm slick with sweat.
When we arrived at the bakery, we found Delly sitting a step above Rye on the back porch, a towel around his shoulders and his shirt draped over the railing beside them. He was grimacing as if the scissors in her hand were the worst possible thing to be happening to him today. She paused cutting his hair long enough to give us a greeting entirely too cheerful for the day before turning Rye's head forward again and resuming. I could hear the two of them bickering as we went inside.
Mrs. Cartwright was standing in the kitchen with Twain, their quiet conversation ending as soon as we stepped in. I crossed the kitchen to where Peeta stood leaning in the doorway to the storefront, staring absently toward the front windows, wringing his hat in his hands. It was grey, and obviously new, not the faded green he'd worn nearly every day I'd seen him. He started when I reached his side; he'd been so lost in whatever was going on in his head he hadn't even heard us come in.
"Hey," I said softly. He just nodded in return. His jaw was tight, the muscles along the side of his neck and up into his face visibly tense. He pulled the hat on, rubbing his hand over his brow as his eye twitched. "New hat?"
"Yeah," he said, reaching up and tugging at the back of it before nodding toward our parents. "M-Mrs. C-Cartwright made it. It's—lighter. F-for summer." I glanced over my shoulder to see Mrs. Cartwright hugging my mother, offering some quiet reassurance I couldn't make out.
"I like it," I said, drawing a small, tight smile out of Peeta. He took hold of my hand, squeezing it as tightly as Prim had on our way into town, and didn't let go. He was jittery and quiet as we waited for Delly and Rye, absently staring at one point or another, his eyes occasionally slipping out of focus so completely I started counting the number of times it happened. If that meant he was having a seizure, he had six before Delly even came in from the back porch, Rye behind her, still buttoning his shirt.
Rye was almost unrecognizable; his hair trimmed short, face shaved clean. If it weren't for the couple of inches he had on Peeta in height the two of them could have passed for twins. The complete lack of sarcastic commentary from him was just a painful reminder of what we had to face. Delly and her mom left as Twain locked up, returning home to meet up with her father and brother. The rest of us quietly joined the other families making their way across town; Peeta's fingers still tightly woven through mine.
Peeta didn't leave my side until after check-in, when we were all forced to split into our separate groups. I stayed close to the edge of the rest of the sixteen year old girls, craning to see if I could spot Prim towards the back. After a few minutes I spotted her sandwiched between the Morgan sisters, the three of them wide-eyed and silent and more than likely clinging to each other's hands, though I couldn't see more than their heads and shoulders, even when the crowd shifted. Gale was easy to spot, one of the tallest in the crowd, and I had only just started to scan the boys on the other side of the aisle for Peeta when Delly and Madge appeared at my side and pointed him out. It wasn't until Madge's father stepped forward to begin his speech that I managed to catch his eye and flash him the closest thing to a smile I could muster.
As the mayor's speech drew to a close I tried looking for Prim again. There was panic rising in my own chest; she had to have felt even worse. I could see her, but she couldn't see me. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes unfocused, her face stony and blank. Too many of the girls around her were wearing the same expression. Effie Trinket's warbling, high-pitched voice cut through the heavy afternoon air and Delly squeezed my hand.
"Ladies first!" she chirped, toddling toward the glass ball filled with the names of the people around me. Seventeen pieces of paper in that ball contained my own. One had Prim's. There was a collective intake of breath as she reached in with a dramatic flourish and the air went still, every last one of us afraid to breathe until she read that name aloud. Effie returned to the microphone and unfolded the paper. "Amanda Tate!"
"No," Manda whispered. I turned to find her standing almost directly behind me, the color rapidly draining from her face. Her dull, horror-struck gaze snapped toward the platform as Effie repeated her name and she turned away, drifting out toward the aisle to be led away by the two waiting peacekeepers. A muffled sob echoed through the square from somewhere to the side of the crowd. Her mother, most likely.
"Poor Manda," Delly said quietly. I looked at her, trying to find something beyond relief that Prim was safe, let alone pity for someone like Manda. I lost myself so thoroughly in wondering what that said about me, or what Delly's pity said about her, that it wasn't until Effie had already drawn a name from the bowl of boy's names that I looked back to the stage. Delly's grip on my hand tightened and I remembered her little brother.
"Wade Maynard!" Effie announced. Asa and Thill's brother, a hulking, ugly brute from Gale's year.
"Fuck!" Wade shoved his way out of the crowd of boys, a low rumble of dissent rippling through his relatives where they stood in the back. Asa and Thill pushed to the edge of their age groups, letting out an odd whistle that Wade returned. He stalked toward the stage, brushing Effie aside and folding his arms across his chest. I wondered what they'd say about his attitude in the recaps.
"Did you know him?" Delly asked quietly. I nodded, watching him reluctantly shake Manda's hand before they were ushered out of sight and into the Justice Hall behind them. The crowd slowly spread out and dissolved, parents pushing forward to embrace their children before ushering them home, siblings pulled apart by age divisions reuniting to track down their parents. Prim crashed into me before I even had time to look for her, winding her arms around my waist and burying tears of relief against the front of my dress.
"You're okay," I said softly, wrapping one arm around her and smoothing the other over her hair. "We're all okay." I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and looked up as Peeta came over, leaning heavily on his cane. Prim pulled away from me to throw herself at Mom and I turned to Peeta, wrapping my arms around him and greeting him with a kiss.
"It's over," he said quietly, as if he were trying to remind himself of it. I nodded, leaning against him as he tightened his arms around me. I could feel his hands trembling against my sides and pulled back to find tears slipping down his face.
"Hey," I smiled, sniffing back my own tears and carefully wiping his face. "You're fine. It's okay." He nodded, his eyes slipping out of focus and his arms going slack. "Peeta?"
"I don't fucking believe this," Rye snapped, glaring over his shoulder toward the Justice Hall.
"Watch your language," Twain snapped.
"Absolutely fucking not, do you even see this horseshit?" Rye gestured toward the Hall, Manda's parents standing at the foot of the steps, waiting to go in to say goodbye to their daughter. Mrs. Mellark was with them, her arm around Mrs. Tate's shoulders, visibly weeping. "Is that dumb bitch fucking kidding me? Agonizing over Manda? Who I didn't even fucking know we were related to until that stupid cunt hauled ass to the Tate's? Oh, after almost k-"
"Rye!" Twain snapped, cutting his son off. "Have some damn respect for the people around you with the way you speak, and she is still your mother."
"Fuck that, I'm adopting Lavender," Rye gestured toward my mother. Mom raised an eyebrow, still rubbing Prim's back as she cried out the built up tension from the day's ordeal.
"Mrs. Everdeen," Twain corrected.
"Whatever, I'm calling her Mom from now on," Rye looked back toward the Justice Hall, glaring until the trio disappeared inside.
"Are you okay?" I asked Peeta quietly.
"Y-yeah," he said absently, staring toward the Justice Hall with a sad, distant look on his face. Twain stepped forward, rubbing his hand across Peeta's shoulders and pressing a brief kiss against his temple.
"Head home, I'll meet you guys there," he said, giving Rye's shoulder a squeeze before walking toward the Justice Hall with the bags of cookies in his hand.
"You'd better fucking say something to that bitch," Rye called after him.
"Go home," Twain snapped, shooting a glare at Rye before continuing on.
Almost there, guys. One more chapter to go. The response to this story has been overwhelming and amazing, and we really can't thank all of you enough for the time you've taken to read and favorite and review. It's awesome. As always, you can find my husband and I on tumblr. He's yourpeetaisshowing, I'm alonglineofbread.