Katniss skips this week's trip into town. It isn't a good day for hunting, either, not with the threat of rain hanging overhead. Early summer storms come in sudden and heavy, often with lightning and gusty winds. Though she itches for the feeling of her bow in her hand, the woods all around her, and the silence both bring, she stays in, the slight risk of a fire deterrent enough.
With Peeta in town, Buttercup lounges by the window while Katniss works on the memory book. She finishes a sentence, carefully going over the letters again in ink, when the phone rings. There are a few people it could be, but as she picks up, she narrows down that very short mental list.
Her guess is right, though she will admit, she hadn't expected the rush of fear in Effie's voice.
"Katniss? I thought you'd be out. Well, either way, could- could you come over quickly? With your cat, if you can."
"Sure. Is everything all right?"
"I'll tell you when you get here."
Effie hangs up without a good-bye, so Katniss knows to waste no time. She lifts Buttercup from the windowsill, cradling him in one arm, and heads to Peeta's house.
The door opens just as Katniss reaches for the knob, and Effie peeks her head out from behind it, waving her inside.
"Oh, good, you brought him," Effie says as she shuts the door.
"Yeah." Katniss frowns. The situation is still a mystery, but the scarf wrapped around Effie's head piques her curiosity more than whatever mission she has been asked here to complete. She holds her questions, though; Effie looks too upset to bear inquiries into her choice of hair piece for the day. "So, what's going on?"
"There's a mouse," Effie whispers, as if someone will overhear. "I've been cleaning up a bit, you see; today is the documentary team's scheduled day off. I made some phone calls this morning and thought, well, I'm not doing anything important besides that, so I should tidy up, you know, in thanks to Peeta for letting me stay here. But then when I came down here, something skittered over my feet, and I just-" She takes a breath, placing a hand over her heart. "Well, I'm lucky the phone is downstairs. Otherwise I might still be on the counter."
Katniss snorts, trying her best to suppress a laugh. She sets Buttercup on the floor and nudges him with her foot. "Go, you have prey in here somewhere," she says to him. But all Buttercup does is stare at her and flick his tail. "Go." Buttercup waits a bit, as if to spite her, then goes off to stalk about the kitchen. Shrugging, Katniss turns to look at Effie. "I can't promise he'll find anything, but he's here."
"And so are you," Effie says, sighing. "At least now I won't be alone if I see it again." She shakes her head, tucking a loose corner of her scarf into knot at the top of her head. "Would you mind staying, actually? I prepared some iced tea."
Katniss figures Effie won't let her go until Buttercup returns victorious from his hunt or they see the mouse run out of the house. Either way, it'll be a while, so she accepts a glass of tea and follows Effie into the living room.
"I thought you'd take the same day off as the builders," Katniss remarks, taking a sip of her drink. "This is really good, by the way."
Effie beams, folding her hands together on her lap. "Well, Plutarch and I discussed it before I came here with the crew, and we thought it might be nice to have a work day on everyone else's day off. That way we can get footage of what they do outside of rebuilding."
"Makes sense."
Nodding, Effie goes on, "There will always be someone on duty, more or less. Quintus, the director, says it's always possible for something major to happen when no one is ready, so he's trying to avoid missing out on anything important. But really, I don't think we'll run into that."
Short of something caving in or being struck by lightning, Katniss can't think of much that could go wrong during the summer. "It's pretty quiet here this time of year. Well-" She presses her lips together, years of reaping days flashing before her eyes in rapid succession. "It would've been."
Effie nods, a thin line appearing between her powdered eyebrows; she is thinking of those days, too. "I mentioned that to Oliver, one of the builders. He said they were thinking they would just ignore it. Old reaping day, that is."
"My father told me once that long ago, before the Dark Days, back even to before all the floods and the rest, there were people who used to honor the summer solstice as a holiday." It had been the day after a reaping, a muggy, sunny morning, and her father had taken her to the lake for a swim while he checked the traps he'd set nearby. The story had come with a few lines of song about a king and a queen and a time of joy. Katniss still holds those notes close, flickering firelight to focus on when the darkness feels like too much to bear.
"I've read about that before," Effie tells her. "Even though the reaping didn't fall on midsummer, we were encouraged to think that it and the Games were our own sort of seasonal celebration." She shrugs, trying to make light of it, but Katniss sees the shadow that crosses her face, the guilt she will live with forever.
They all bear scars from those days, those long and terrible years.
"I don't think it would be appropriate to bring up old traditions such as that, though," Effie says, shaking her head. "I've done enough."
"Right." Katniss nods, staring into the ice in her glass as reaping day after reaping day comes to mind. She remembers the dread most of all, the way she felt she might get sick even with an empty stomach in the days before the reaping. It comes back now, familiar and hot, and she has to set the glass down on the coffee table to push the feeling away.
It isn't enough. She needs a complete change of subject. She glances at Effie, who is lost in her own thoughts, and whose floral scarf is as neatly tied as it was when Katniss got here. "No wig today?"
"Hm? Oh, no." Effie smiles, shaking her head. "I wasn't planning on seeing anyone today, so there was no point. Well, not until that mouse came along and I had to call someone. I only just had time to put something on my face before you arrived."
Katniss doesn't bother suppressing a wry grin. "Have you been wearing that all day?"
"That I have been. This was a huge trend when my mother was a teenager, you know. She taught me how to wrap my hair in case it ever came back, but it never did."
"It's interesting," Katniss says. She isn't sure if it's more or less strange than wearing wigs.
"The fabric lets my scalp breathe," Effie continues, adjusting the edge of the wrapping at the back of her neck. "And even wigs need a day to rest."
"I don't know how you manage to wear one in this weather."
Effie shrugs. "I'm used to it." Her gaze shifts to one side for a moment, and she frowns slightly, pressing her lips together. Katniss watches, the hesitation making her eager to hear whatever it is Effie is thinking about.
When Effie snaps out of it with a shake of her head, Katniss forces herself not to look disappointed.
A clatter in the kitchen cuts off both their thoughts. Katniss stands and goes to investigate, and Effie follows. On the other side of the counter is Buttercup, who is cowering, his eyes fixed on a tin cup that lies not a few feet from him.
"Oh, you sure are a hero," Katniss says, rolling her eyes. "Stupid cat." She picks up the cup and sets it in the sink. Buttercup stays in place. "Go on!" she tells him. "We're not leaving until you find something."
"I don't blame him for being scared," Effie says, wrinkling her nose. "It was a big mouse."
Katniss shakes her head. "Maybe it's in the basement. Come on, big hero, let's go." She grabs Buttercup none too gently and drops him off in the basement, leaving the door open for him.
"I'm sorry I made you come over," Effie says.
"Don't worry about it. I needed a day off, too."
"Why don't I make us something to eat?"
"You cook?" The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. "Sorry. I didn't-"
"I manage," Effie corrects, chuckling. "It won't be long."
It's no lamb stew, but the simple potato and mushroom soup is good, especially with spices from the little bottle Effie brought with her from home.
"I really can't live without this blend," she says, sprinkling a bit more into her bowl. "I got the rest of the ingredients here, and I must say, they are excellent."
"Greasy Sae used to make the most amazing soups out of anything," Katniss remarks.
"It's a gift," Effie says almost solemnly. "One I sadly do not possess."
"You got more of it than I did." Katniss can only repeat what she has been taught. Written recipes don't turn out so badly, but it's always better if she assists first. Maybe if she gets this one from Effie, she'll be able to make it later on.
A crash issues from the basement, but Katniss doesn't move to go look into it. "I'm not going anywhere until Buttercup comes up here with a dead mouse in his mouth."
"Fine by me," Effie says, shuddering. "I don't want to go down there."
The basement, with its windows and proximity to the surface, doesn't bother Katniss in the least. But when she thinks of it the way Effie does, dark and hidden, strong enough to pull her back to those places, those days beneath the ground-
"Katniss, do you believe in ghosts?"
Inhaling deeply, Katniss grounds herself in this room, in the smell of lunch, in the heat of the day as it creeps inside the house. "Sort of," she answers. "Do you?"
"Yes. Well-" Effie presses her lips together, reconsidering. "There are some people who've died who I can't- it's like they're here. Sometimes I swear I see them in the mirror, or feel them just standing next to me, and I think- well, it feels so real."
"Yeah," Katniss says quietly. "My sister-" She stops herself, shakes her head. "Especially when I go into town." There, she sees the buildings as they used to be, sees familiar faces, hears the old melody of work and subdued sorrow. "Dr. Aurelius says that's normal."
"So does Dr. Hesiod. He says it gets easier with time."
Katniss shakes her head. "I keep hoping so." But even as she says so, she knows that it has gotten better, that Peeta has helped her so much. Even Haymitch has helped, in his own way. And now, Effie has, too, with her relentless dedication to her work, and with such simple things as this soup, this tea, this conversation.
Down in the basement, a chase ensues; they hear Buttercup run from one end to the other, knocking down cans and boxes for much of the way. Finally, when all is silent, Katniss stands. "I'd better go make sure he's all right."
A few minutes later, she tosses the dead mouse in the trash. Buttercup peers into the can as if to make sure the rodent is, in fact, dead.
"I don't have anything to give him but my thanks," Effie laments, shaking her head.
"He'll be fine," Katniss says. "I'll feed him when we get home, and he'll probably forget all about it."
"I hope not. I'd love to be in his good graces in case another one turns up."
Katniss laughs and picks up Buttercup. "You are ugly as hell," she tells him, "but you're a hero."
Effie scratches him between the ears, and though he doesn't purr, he doesn't swat at her, either. That's a step up from the hatred he used to show everyone he hadn't known for at least a year.
"I don't want to forget them," Katniss says suddenly. Effie frowns, and Katniss clarifies, "The ghosts. The people who are still with us. Not the ones that matter, you know?"
"Yes," Effie answers, nodding slowly. "There are some I could certainly live without, but-" She pauses, seeing one of them, no doubt, or maybe all of them. "Many of them were important to me."
Katniss nods.
When she gets home, the book is waiting for her on the table, open to the page she had been working on before the phone call.
There are her ghosts, turning into benevolent spirits. There, they are honored.
There, she can find the beginnings of peace.