Baking is solely Peeta's area of expertise, but Katniss has mastered the art of sprinkling toppings on the different breads. She learned the right mixture of cheeses for her favorite first, eager for something they could do together besides sit and talk or not talk. Those first few weeks after his return had been filled with silence, but now she helps a tiny bit with the baking, and he can walk more stealthily.
"Do you think they'll like Effie's idea?" she asks, sending a rain of sesame seeds down onto a row of buns.
Peeta sighs, shaking his head. "I think a lot of them are going to be wary. Some might not see a problem with it, but-" He doesn't finish the thought, gently sliding a set of completed buns off a tray.
Katniss grabs another handful of seeds from a bag. Her silence tells him everything, that she thinks some of them will hate it, try to scare Effie out of their home because they are like Gale and they can't look beyond what was. They only remember the lies they were fed about the glory of their former country, the horrors they were forced to watch and take joy in every year under the old regime.
She doesn't blame them. She only wishes things were different.
"Last night, I dreamt about baking," she tells him after a while.
He grins. "You're lying."
She shakes her head, gives half a smile. "Does that make me a baker?"
"It makes you a baker's girl." Chuckling, he spreads corn meal on a tray and starts filling it with bread. "I'm glad you're coming today."
She keeps her gaze on the tray she's working on, watches the last of the seeds drop onto the raw dough. "I figure she'll appreciate the support."
"I think you'll appreciate her supporting you, too." Katniss looks up at him, frowning. "People ask about you every week," he continues. "I know you'd rather be out in the woods, but…" He shrugs. "It helps me as much as it helps them when I take them bread once a week."
"I know." It's just difficult to be around so many people, some of them familiar, and to know that they see in her someone far greater than she is. Memories of Peeta's selfless kindness have only recently stopped weighing her heart down with guilt. Facing a town full of people who see her as a hero will only remind her of all the people who died, of Prim getting caught in the crossfire. Prim, for whom Katniss put her life on the line in the first place.
Prim is the real hero, as far as Katniss is concerned, because if not for Prim, they would all be watching the Hunger Games in a few days, and Effie's reason for being here would be to take another pair of children away. Prim is why they're all here. Prim is why the talk of film crews coming in is being presented to them as an option, to show them in a good light, not to crush them beneath garish heels.
"Katniss."
When she looks up at him again, he holds out his hand for the tray she has been staring at for some time. Nodding, she hands it to him, and he slips it and the final tray into the oven.
Wiping his hands on his apron, he says, "Deep down, Effie's a good person." He pauses, meeting her gaze. "Real or not real?"
She pauses a moment, taking the space of a breath to wonder about the woman who spent years sending children to their deaths with a smile, who went to prison because Katniss found the chink in the armor that night, who has not complained for a moment about what may have transpired in the weeks and months between the Panem that was and the Panem that is becoming.
She answers, "Real."
Katniss goes to get Effie, and with Peeta leading the way, the three head to town. Katniss brings up the rear, peering over the basket in her arms at their unintentional procession. It's hardly straight despite the certainty in Peeta's stride, the easy comfort of the path he walks ahead of them. He is far from silent, but even less so is Effie, who almost stumbles from time to time. The limited view Katniss has of her face is enough to show the tension in it. No amount of make-up can create permanent confidence and cheer.
But she's trying, which is more than Katniss can say about herself. Yes, she showers every day, goes hunting, takes care of Buttercup - she has returned from the dark despair of deepest grief. But she is like Haymitch in that she hides away, all but refusing to face the world. Sometimes, she has to leave the house through the back door because she can't stand to see the evening primrose bushes out front. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of them from inside, and Buttercup senses her distress, and she and that hideous cat sit together in silence for hours.
She would rather be back in the house right now, but she will not go back on her word. She hasn't before, and she won't make a habit of it now. Maybe Peeta is right and this will do her good, to see how the town is doing, to talk to other people, even if only for a little while. Besides, it may be hard for her, but it must be a thousand times worse for Effie in her blue wig and boots, pretty dress and gloves, an unwelcome memory of what used to be.
Peeta told her the full extent of Effie's idea the very evening she called to tell him.
"I couldn't say no," he had said, eyes half-open as he watched and heard the things that haunt him. Shaking his head, he had repeated more softly, "I couldn't say no. Before I came home to you, she was the only familiar person I'd see. And-"
"It's okay." She had not let him finish, the unspoken promise not to speak of the unspeakable clear and present in her mind.
She thinks she can see it now, the tie that binds them together. It's in the way Peeta knows not to go too fast and the way Effie tries not to lag too far behind. It isn't colored by need; it isn't the desperation of people afraid to be apart. It's a mutual trust that can only be forged in halls of horror, not unlike the arena, though never as deep and as dark.
That isn't what the rest of the district will see, though, Katniss realizes, and Peeta knows it, too. Katniss doesn't want to see what will happen, but she knows she needs to be here, an ally even if only in presence.
They reach town, and right away the urge to turn around starts to pull at her feet. The rubble has been cleared up, for the most part, but the ghosts of the past rise up, flickering in her peripheral vision as she looks ahead. Soon she hears the builders working, and sure enough, they see the bearers of today's bounty.
Peeta leads them to the covered space they've set aside for meals, a series of long tables with benches on either side. He sets his things down on the innermost table and directs Effie and Katniss to do the same. Katniss barely hears him over the greetings the builders call to her. Beyond a quick glance, they ignore Effie.
Katniss smiles for them, says hello and nods as they gather beneath the shade of the tarp overhead. It's almost stifling, the heat and all these people. She forces down the thoughts of fire and burning flesh. "I've been okay," she tells them. "Your work is really coming along."
"Would you mind telling us about it, Harlan?" Peeta asks as he pulls a folded sheet off the last basket.
"Well, you've seen it," answers Harlan. He is from the old Seam, a man who lived with his family several houses down from Katniss' childhood home. "We finished a few houses and a store. We fell behind when it rained a few days last week, but we're catching up."
"But there's no real schedule, is there?"
They go silent, all heads turning to Effie. Katniss remembers her first interview with Caesar Flickerman, the way her heart pounded in her ears and rendered her speechless despite how easy it had been to volunteer at the reaping for all of Panem to see.
Nothing can prepare a person for being thrust into an unfamiliar spotlight. The bright blue of Effie's eyes betrays her; there is none of the confidence from before.
"That is- you work as you can, at your own pace, without interference," Effie continues. She pauses, clears her throat. "No one can tell you what to do when but you."
The air is heavy with the heat of the summer sun and the old hatred in the builders' bones. For a moment, Katniss swears she sees Gale among them, his hard, unforgiving gaze trained on Effie. Katniss holds her breath.
"That's right," says Harlan. "You have no say in anything anymore."
"Actually, that's why I'm here," Effie tells him.
Harlan frowns at Peeta, who nods. Then Harlan looks at Katniss, who wants to shrug. She glances at Effie, then back at Harlan, and nods.
Harlan looks at Effie. "Go on."
"There is interest in filming your progress over some time," Effie explains. "Things have settled down since the rebellion, but we think it would help nationwide recovery if everyone could see how District Twelve, which fared the worst in the rebellion, is doing now."
Murmurs arise in the group. Katniss tenses, listening hard. Harlan looks over his shoulder and whispers something to the men nearest him, who nod. To her credit, Effie holds her ground.
Finally Harlan says, "Go home. We're not your entertainment anymore."
"That isn't what-"
"Go home," he repeats, his voice so loud it leaves a ringing in Katniss' ears for a second.
Effie draws a quick breath as if to protest, but she holds it instead. Katniss' gaze travels to Effie's hands, at the fingers moving almost imperceptibly at her sides. What looks like twitching is regular and deliberate, a steady count of eight, nine, ten.
"If you would please listen to the whole story," Effie begins with new strength, but that is as far as she gets.
From somewhere in the middle of the gathered laborers, a woman shouts, "Get out of here, Capitol scum!"
Then a man cries, "We don't want your pretend sympathy!"
Then another one says, "Murderer!"
And others follow in disorder, grumbling, their eyes threatening death or worse. In Katniss' mind, it's the night of the interviews before the third Quarter Quell, and the Capitol audience is in uproar over the wedding that will never be.
No, it isn't, and this is not the same, but when the memory goes away, some of the builders are hurling obscenities, and Effie is standing in place only because she has nowhere to run.
Someone's voice rings out over the commotion, and they quiet at once. It takes them all staring at her for Katniss to realize she is the one who called for them to stop.
She hears, in her head, Haymitch's laughter at her flubbed Mockingjay lines, sees bombs raining down on the hospital in Eight, feels the heat against her skin from the flames below as she stands on a roof and fires exploding arrows at the Capitol ships.
She hears Cinna's voice telling her he is still betting on her.
"She isn't here to hurt us," she tells them, voice as firm as the ground beneath her feet. "She didn't come in here with a camera crew and just start filming, did she? That Capitol is gone. What more proof do you need than to have a former escort for the Hunger Games come here and ask for your permission to film your work?
"I know it sounds crazy. I thought it was, too, the first time I heard about it. But then I remembered being in Thirteen. Being the Mockingjay. After two Games, after my engagement and wedding being made a TV show, the rebel leaders wanted to use me to further the cause. They thought it would give people hope to see me alive, and guess what? It did. I hated it, and Peeta got hurt so badly because of it, but if I hadn't done it, we might not be here today.
"You never saw the propos. You didn't have to. But just understand that if anyone knows why you're upset, why you feel like this is about using you, it's me, and I'm still willing to listen to her. Nobody's life is in danger here. But what if you can help? What if this will give someone hope?"
In the silence that follows, Katniss feels more than sees the effect her betrayal has had on the builders. They stand tense, frowning, and they stare at her like she has asked them to watch their children burn to end the rebellion.
She ignores those stares, instead meeting Peeta's gaze. In his eyes, she sees that she has not descended into madness. Not now, and not before when defending her prep team to Gale. She thinks of them imprisoned in District Thirteen, shackled and cramped; she imagines, for only a moment, how much worse the Capitol prisons must have been.
Here and now, the workers murmur to one another. Katniss detects the sharp hiss of anger in some voices. It seems like hours later when Harlan takes the lead for them again.
"We'll hear you. That doesn't guarantee our agreement," he is quick to add, "but we won't shut you out."
Effie nods, visibly relieved. "Of course. That's all I ask. Thank you."
"Sit with us," he says as he heads for a basket of bread. "Now is the best time."
"Yes, of course. You're very busy."
Peeta goes with Effie to sit with Harlan. Katniss goes to another table. She has shown she is willing to take Effie's side, but she must demonstrate to the builders that she is with them, too. Nothing will break the bonds they share from having lived in poverty under the old regime, but they need to understand that their world is not so black and white, and that Katniss herself lives in the grey space, bridging the gap.
The Capitol betrayed her when Snow announced the terms of the third Quarter Quell, and even before then, when he promised to keep them safe and instead sought to control them; but District Twelve betrayed her, too, even if that betrayal took only Gale's form. It will never again be easy to take sides.
On the walk back to Victors Village, they go in a cluster with Katniss in the middle. The empty baskets are light, and their pace is quicker.
"Harlan said he'll discuss it with everyone tonight after the work day ends," Effie tells them. "They'll come to a decision by lunch tomorrow."
"One of us can go into town with you to find out, if you want," Peeta offers.
Effie shakes her head. "I appreciate that very much, Peeta, but you've both done enough for me and this project. I owe it to them to speak with them on my own."
Katniss nods, proud, in a way. The gesture will speak well of Effie, and she has figured it out without any help.
They take the baskets into Katniss' house. Peeta gets them all water, and Effie sighs and takes off her gloves.
"I never noticed how hot it is here in the summer," she says, shaking her head. "And I can barely walk in these shoes. The only other pair I brought are for indoors, though."
"You can buy a new pair in town," Katniss tells her. "A man named Marsh makes shoes for the workers and for export."
Effie smiles. "Wonderful. I'll see I get to him tomorrow after I speak with Harlan."
She stays until they've all had their glasses of water, then she is off to Peeta's house. "Plutarch will want a detailed report at the end of the week," she says before she goes, "so I'd best get my notes written down before I forget anything important. Even if we don't film anything, a written update will still be nice to have."
Katniss sees her off, shutting the door behind her as Peeta puts away the baskets for another week.
"Thank you for coming today," he says to her as he comes to stand by her side. Katniss instantly feels more relaxed. "You didn't have to, and you really didn't have to say all you did."
"I know," she tells him, resting her head against his chest. "But she stood up to Haymitch for me when I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers. I owed her one."
Peeta chuckles, holding her close.
Katniss shuts her eyes and smiles.