Chapter 4:

After briefing Paavo and Prim on what was expected of them, Haymitch dismisses them both, and Prim and I head back to our house to relax for our last night of freedom. Peeta heads off in the other direction, and Paavo then follows Haymitch to his place, where Hazelle had already graciously prepared a room for him.

Just before 8 a.m. the next morning, I escort Prim to Peeta's yard, where he is looking over a thick packet of notes. At 8 a.m. sharp, an alarm sounds from inside Peeta's house, after which he launches into a series of calisthenics, directing Prim and Paavo to follow him through stretches and leg movements and sit-ups. I can't help but smile at Peeta's enthusiasm. Though I'm not sure Paavo would agree- in fact, if Prim and I weren't there, I don't know if he would be following Peeta at all- he scowls the entire time. Prim is not particularly animated but follows along obediently. While I had been planning to gracefully exit as soon as I dropped Prim off, Peeta was so motivated I find myself sticking around.

Two hours later, after Peeta has completely exercised them out, he moves Prim and Paavo inside to work on camouflaging for the remainder of his portion of the training session. Peeta had all of the paints that we purchased in the square laid out for our siblings to use (he also had several plants that they could substitute for a brush to better simulate resources that would be available in the arena), and he briefly demonstrates to Prim and Paavo several different brush techniques. They quickly begin practicing the basic brush skills, though clearly, Paavo does not have the frosting experience that Peeta does. His simple daisy looks much more like a monstrous yellow porcupine.

Haymitch shows up around eleven-thirty, lit up like a Christmas tree. I try to pull Prim aside and explain to her that he is nauseous and sick, but she just laughs at me and tells me that she has seen drunkenness with the miners enough times to recognize it. He starts after noon and slurs for half-hour or so increments, between which he takes breaks to either run to the nearest bathroom or down a few swigs of his flask. Prim and Paavo look on with a combination of anxiety and disgust. I wonder if Haymitch is just nervous. By three-thirty he is passed out on Peeta's porch, head back and mouth wide open, snoring. I decide that this is a strong signal that I should take over early.

I am relieved that Peeta plans to work the physical activity into his four hours- because I have a lot that I can teach them. Though the archery part will have to wait- my bow and arrows are still hidden deep in the woods, guarded 24/7 by the electrified fence. I begin with the book that Peeta has been helping me make in the last several weeks, explaining to them everything that I know about the plants I've encountered in the woods, but I am cursing the fact that I can't show them firsthand because of my carelessness in the woods with Gale. I also recount to Paavo and Prim stories of my survival in the Games- sure, I was lucky in a lot of ways, and I couldn't have done it without Peeta, but there were several occasions where I know that I could have died if I hadn't used what I knew about feeding myself in the woods. Just learning which berries to eat and which ones to avoid saved my life at least twice.

I am quite tired after talking for over four hours, and Haymitch is still passed out, but Peeta has stayed and hung onto my every word. I dismiss Paavo and Prim, who immediately run their separate directions, relieved that their grueling day is finally over. But Peeta stays and gives me a little round of applause, and when I turn to follow Prim home, he asks if he can come with me.

"Please, Katniss? I want to explain something. I wanted to last night, but you had already left with Prim. I won't stay too long," he pleads, desperation in his voice.

I shrug my shoulders, and when I turn to walk home, he quickly catches up with me.

"Look," he begins earnestly, "I feel like I need to give you an explanation as to why I said what I did to my brother the other night."

I look at him expectantly. Of course I was curious to know what could make him say that.

He continues. "It's just….my mom has always worked really hard, and she always did her best to provide for us. But she was always cold, distant- never affectionate with us, never showed us that she loved us, even my dad, at all really. On the day that I first met you, I came home and couldn't stop talking about you. My mom asked me what your name was, and when I told her, I think she knew somehow- that you were the daughter of a girl that my father loved before he had loved her- and I think she just got really jealous. She started being really cruel to me- hitting me for almost no reason, belittling me in front of the rest of my family. She never did it to my brothers. What you saw at the bakery that day? It was normal for me." He takes a deep breath.

I don't say anything, fascinated, letting him unfold his story. He continues.

"And one day a couple of months before the Games last year- I just snapped. It was right after the bakery had closed for the day and everyone but my father was there- he had opened up the shop early that morning so he was home asleep. She slapped me across the face for counting the money wrong, and the salt on her hands from baking went into my eye. I don't know if I told you this before, but I met your mother once- I had a burn from the oven that needed mending. I think you were gone, but I saw her- and she was patient and nurturing and comforting- just how I hoped my mother could be and never was. So when my mom slapped me, I snapped, I don't know why that time specifically, but I did. I screamed at her that I wish that my father had married your mother, or at least someone like her, because he deserved more than to be married to a witch. That was it really- my brothers heard me say it, and as soon as I said it they were on her side, and I never really got along with them again. Of course, my dad and I had a long talk that night, and even though he wouldn't speak badly of her, I knew that he understood. We've stayed close."

My mind is swimming with all of the details that Peeta has just relayed to me. I look at him, and he is clearly still heartbroken from all of this. I immediately decide that I am grateful for my own mother, despite her emotional absence in a really critical time in my life (and Prim's). I just can't fathom life where your mother didn't want the best for you, where she actually wished you harm, and inflicted it. I also feel guilt, even though I didn't do anything wrong- I had something to do with how awful his mother had been treating him? This information tugs at my heartstrings, makes me want to reach out to Peeta- I think because it also makes me realize how the odds were going against him, how small a chance he had to become the big-hearted guy that he has. I take his hand and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He smiles. "I'm glad that I told you."

I nod. "Me, too. Come on."

I keep his hand held through the entrance of our house, up the stairs, and down the hallway into my bedroom. We fall asleep talking, his arms wrapped securely around me, and mine around him, trying to comfort him in any way that I can. Neither of us has nightmares. This is the first time since Gale was whipped that I let Peeta share my bed.

But when we wake up, it's the start of another long training day.