Seasons of Wither, Chapter 20
The weather has now grown cold, and our humbly-built home a bit drafty. Mother and Prim have taken to piling quilts onto the bed that they share, but somehow I still awaken every night sweaty and screaming. As my due date approaches, my nightmares have increased in intensity and frequency, and they are always about losing the ones that I love. The only thing that ever helps is waking up in Gale's comforting arms, which I haven't had the privilege of doing as of late. He's been much too busy in the mines working extra hours trying to fill the Capitol's quota. Judging by the hours he's put in, it's doubtful that any of the families there are suffering from a cold and drafty home this season.
I sleep lying on my side in bed with a pillow between my knees as my mother has instructed me to do—something about it increasing blood flow to the fetus—when my sister wakes me.
"Mother said you've had enough time off of school. She says you need to go back today."
I reply in a groan.
"You had four days off, Katniss. You're rehydrated, well-rested, and your contractions stopped days ago."
"Just a few more weeks..." I mumble into the quilt which I have pulled over my head.
"You'll have had the baby by then. There'll be no reason to go back."
"I know."
I eat the meager breakfast my mother has prepared for us—cereal made from grain rations with a splash of goat's milk—before dressing myself and pulling my now thinning hair into a braid. I read that pregnancy hormones usually cause women to grow thicker hair, but the opposite has happened for me. Not only that, but I've noticed Prim's cheeks are beginning to appear more hollow than they have in years.
"Did you finish your school work?" Mother asks me, spooning the greyish mash into a bowl.
"No."
She frowns. "Prim brought you home an entire folder full to keep you caught up."
"Didn't seem like it'd do me much good," I argue, forcing down the tasteless, ugly-colored grain cereal while wrinkling my nose in distaste. "I don't think algebraic equations will help me in changing diapers. Just more worthless information that will soon be forgotten." Maybe I'm a bit bitter for having had my entire future planned out for me at 16, not that I had a lot of options to begin with.
Mother scowls but says nothing. She knows that I have a point.
I am out of breath and my cheeks are flush by the time we reach the school.
"Do you want me to see you to your first class?" Prim asks with a bit of a humorous grin, since that's the very thing I did for her when she was a small child.
I shake my head, huffing to catch my breath. "I have to stop off into the girl's room first anyhow."
I end up being late for my first class, and the curious eyes that stare me down as I walk into the beginning of a lecture make me duck my head as I slip in my usual place at the small table in the back of the room. I open my book, act like I'm taking notes, and spend the rest of the class period thinking about anything but the lesson being given.
My back is sore by the time gym class roles around. If there's anything that's completely absurd about going to school at almost eight months pregnant, it's the fact that I'm still required to attend gym class even though I'm not capable of actually participating in any of the physical activities. I used to walk the track when the weather was nicer, but now I sit in the bleacher seating "observing." There's not much to observe, considering that they're playing Bombardment—a game that I've been familiar with since the first grade. Today they've brought in the boy's gym team to challenge the girl's. It's not exactly an even match, but we're used to being at a disadvantage here in 12.
I think of Katrina Evanson, the 15-year-old girl from our district with a degenerative disease who was taken down by a 200 pound career 15 minutes into the last Game.
The whole thing depresses me, and instead of watching, I sit slouched forward over the Algebra homework my instructor insisted I complete while massaging my temples and wishing away my lower back pain. What I really need is to lie down for awhile, but I'll have to wait until study hall to rest my head on my desk, and even then my protruding stomach usually gets in the way.
It's not long after the first balls begin to fly at the opposing teams that a male voice directed towards me snaps me back at attention.
"You mean to tell me you're using this pregnancy thing as an excuse to get out of Bombardment now?" a voice asks with fake mockery. Peeta is staring down at me with rumpled hair and a playful smile as he sits down next to me. "Don't you know that Bombardment is a excellent morale booster?"
Peeta Mellark has rarely spoken to me over the past several months, let alone tried to make a joke. They're the only kind words that any of my classmates have had for me in the longest time, and I smile despite myself.
"If throwing balls at your classmates is such a wonderful morale booster, then why aren't you out there playing with them?"
"I was. I was the first one tagged out."
I raise my eyebrows. The last I'd heard, Peeta was not only on the wrestling team, but had placed second in the last match. The idea of him being bad at any sport was preposterous.
"I always try to get tagged out right off to get it over with," he then goes on to explain. "I don't wanna be the last guy left standing out there, waiting to have the rest of his classmates do him in."
I shake my head. "That's a...terrible game plan, Peeta."
His expression softens a bit at my words.
"Well," he says, "there's little pride in throwing balls at girls half your weight."
I nod in agreement, wincing down at the blurry numbers and letters on my homework page. Oh yeah, my eyesight is bad now, too.
"Algebra?" he asks me, peering over my shoulder. "Isn't this from last week?"
"I, uh, I was out last week..." I explain. "Just...a pregnancy thing." The usual getting-stuck-outside-the-district-and-then-going-into-fake-labor thing.
"Oh."
There's an uncomfortable silence that follows, because this isn't a topic any normal teenager discusses. It's certainly not anything I want to discuss with a boy I hardly even know. A boy who's mother thinks I'm Seam trash and a whore. I wonder how he can even talk to me, let alone sit next to me.
"I can help you, if you want."
I look up at him.
"I'm good at this subject. I mean, I helped Delly when she was having trouble. I don't mind," he adds with a shrug. When I don't reply right away, his words begin to rush out nervously. "I mean, once you start struggling in math, it's hard to get back on track."
"There's only 15 minutes of the period left and I have four assignments to catch up on," I point out.
"Well, it wouldn't have to be here. In the school library during lunch, or after class..."
I'm almost astonished at the fact that he seems so willing to help me again when I have nothing to offer him in return. I almost begin to think that this is some sort of setup for an elaborate practical joke, but no, I know that Peeta isn't cruel. And as I sit there watching him anxiously wipe the palms of his hands on the fabric of his gym shorts, I am at a complete loss of why he would even want to help someone like me.
The fact that he is willing to take his time to help some knocked-up girl from the Seam bothers me so much that I can't even consider taking him up on his offer.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask before I can even consider the harshness of the question, and regret it instantly as Peeta's face flushes as he looks away from me uncomfortably.
Peeta is one of the very few people who's actually gone out of their way to be kind to me, not only since this whole debacle started, but ever.
The whistle blows, signaling the start of another game, and Peeta slides from his seat.
"I should go," he tells me quietly before walking back across the floor of the gymnasium.
I'm sitting alone at the lunch table thinking about the mystery that is Peeta Mellark when Madge approaches, doing a double take when she sees me sitting in our usual spot. With a shake of her head, she sits down in the seat opposite to mine and begins halving everything in her lunch box.
"I thought maybe you'd had your baby when you weren't at school last week."
"Oh, no. I'm not due until next month."
I smile in thanks as I look down at the meager meal before me. Madge really doesn't eat much considering she isn't required to exert a lot of energy during the day, and I'm at the stage in my pregnancy where I could probably eat an entire deer by myself. But the food that she offers me daily at school still makes all of the difference. I've learned to get over my shame and accept her act of kindness when I need it most.
Besides, the delicacies she brings from home are like nothing I've ever tasted—white bread, sliced meat, and fruits that I've never even seen before. I slowly pick my share, eating it slowly with the hope of making it seem like a grand meal.
"I know you can't possibly go out in your condition and that Gale is probably busy in the mines, but Cray mentioned his longing for some wild turkey last week," Madge tells me. "He's even willing to pay more than the going rate."
Savoring a bite of sandwich, I look up.
"Oh," I softly reply.
"Father said he'd buy some of your rabbit, too, if you have extra to sell," Madge goes on, pausing to bite down on her lower lip. I know what she's trying to do: Everyone in town knows that Mayor Undersee only eats the finest cuts of butcher meat. "He gets tired of beef and horse sometimes. I told him I'd ask you."
I glance back at her curiously. So the mayor really has no idea what's going on outside the district? It's both a bit concerning and somewhat of a relief. Maybe her father is in a position to help, but then again, maybe it's something so devious that it's beyond his control. Mayor of 12 isn't exactly the highest-ranking position in the government.
But he is the highest ranking official here, and a decent human at that. And if he wants to help us by buying game that he would never actually eat, maybe he'd be able to put a stop to whatever is going on outside the district.
"I mean, when you or Gale get the chance to go out again-" she begins.
"I think the Capitol is poisoning us," I find myself suddenly interrupting.
Madge blinks, her face paling as her hand comes across the table to clutch mine. I close my eyes, grimacing as I chastise myself for blurting it out in such a public place. Glancing at the kids that sit around us and who are too occupied with each other to pay any attention to a couple of outcasts like us, Madge finally decides that it's safe to speak again.
"What do you mean?" she whispers.
"Several months ago, Gale and I started finding dead animals," I begin. "It was...strange to say the least. Deer, panthers, squirrel, rabbits—they all started dwindling in numbers. Then Gale, he...he got sick from drinking from the creek. Poisoned, my mother had said. Almost killed him. Then they poisoned a little lake far away from the district where we'd been fishing. Burned down the little building next to it. Now the power to the fence is on full-time."
"They're poisoning the water then?" she asks.
"Yeah, basically. Everything is dying and there's nothing left to be hunted even if we could get past the fence. It's like they're trying to scare us out."
Madge pokes thoughtfully at her purple melon chunks with a fork, frowning.
"Do you know something?" I ask her. When she doesn't reply, my mouth gapes. "You do know something, don't you?"
"No, not really," she begins, looking a bit unsure. "My father spoke out against an idea the Capitol had introduced to control the animal population surrounding 12 last year. It seemed like a strange idea and a bit of pointless one, considering there's a fence that keeps out most of the wild animals anyways. They're no real threat to anyone who doesn't leave the perimeter of the fence, and he was worried about the toxins seeping into the well water."
"Why would they care about our safety?" I ask her, a bit confused. "They've only just begun turning on the fence."
"No, you're right. They wouldn't," Madge agrees. "There's a lot more to it than that." She pauses momentarily, as if contemplating whether or not to go on. "There have been people running away from some of the districts, Katniss."
"What?" I gasp. "You mean...into the woods?" I ask her, thinking of Gale's insistence to run.
She nods.
"Too many have done it successfully. Some from Six and Eight just last month. They took supplies with them and no one's seen them since. The Capitol doesn't have the resources to explore the open space between districts for runaways, and it's not really known where they took off to. Father said that the wildlife population control was just a way for them to instill fear in the district citizens, because where there's hope, there's a chance of an uprising," Madge tells me in a whisper.
My heart is thumping wildly in my chest at the idea. People successfully fleeing the districts? The all-powerful Capitol scared of an uprising?
My mind is spinning. It's too big of an idea for me to even process. I always thought that the Capitol had a stranglehold on it district's citizens, but it seems that perhaps I was wrong
I stare down at the table before me in shock.
"Katniss," Madge begins, and I know what she's about to ask before she even says it.
"I know. This stays between us," I assure her.
When I return home that evening without Prim, who said she had to run a few errands in town, Gale's mother and two youngest siblings are there. Hazelle and my mother are picking through a couple of old boxes of things that sit on the kitchen table while chatting and drinking mint tea.
"What's this?" I ask them after setting my backpack down and peering into one of the boxes.
"Hazelle's washed some baby things for you," my mother says. "We thought it'd be a good idea for you to be ready when the time comes."
"All pink things at Gale's request," Hazelle adds, and I roll my eyes. "I'll bring the other things over once I get through washing them. You'll get use out of all of them anyway. Babies don't care what color they wear."
"He's still dead set on a little girl then?" I ask Hazelle as I pull out a tiny pink sleeper.
"Afraid so."
I offer them a weak smile before deciding to lie down for a bit. Gale awakens me two hours later when dinner is ready and the sun has begun to set.
"Sorry," I tell him groggily as I rub my eyes. "I only meant to lie down, not take a two hour nap."
He smiles down at me as he pushes a loose strand of hair from my eyes.
"You're growing a human, Catnip. I think it's to be expected."
"Where are Prim and Rory?" I ask when we all take our places around the table. "We shouldn't start without them."
Mother frowns as she begins to serve food onto plates, passing them around the table. "Shouldn't have taken them this long at the store. Probably off playing around somewhere. We'll keep them a couple of plates warm in the stove for when they return."
We end up eating butcher's beef with a onions, squash, and radishes, since it's the only vegetables available this time of year. Gale talks about work in the mines with Thom and how they've been trying to meet the Capitol quota. I try hard to pay attention, but all I can think about is my conversation with Madge at lunch and how badly I want to tell him about it.
But I hold my tongue because I know telling him will only succeed in Gale wanting to run away again, and right now neither of us are in a position to leave our families.
Gale must be able to tell that I've been thinking hard about something when he pulls me into his arms on the front step of the porch and begins kissing me softly. His forehead resting on mine and his hands on my hips, he finally asks me what's wrong.
"Nothing," I assure him. "Just a little sick of being pregnant, I guess."
There may come a time when I finally have to tell him the truth about everything, but it seems pointless to get him riled up about it right now when there's not anything that we can do about it.
"It won't be much longer," he promises. "The way are mothers are talking, you'll be having this kid any day now."
"My mother thinks I'll go early."
"Could be," he agrees, rubbing my belly. "It looks like she's running out of room in there. Did my mom ever mention I weighed eight and a half pounds when I was born?"
I groan. "That's about the last thing I wanted to hear right now, Gale."
He smiles. "You'll be fine. You'll do great, I promise."
We take advantage of the dark, starry night that surrounds us by kissing for a good while on the porch. His lips find neck, my jaw, my eyes, before connecting with my own again. This is the most intimate we've been lately, now that doing anything more is too physically uncomfortable for me.
And then there's the awkwardness of the marriage proposal that still looms over us.
"I love you," Gale whispers into my ear, and I press a feverish kiss onto his lips in reply.
Gale says this regularly now. He doesn't look for me to return the sentiment, but his expression always tells me that he wishes for it.
I can't say the words back. I've tried saying them when I'm alone to get a feel for how they sound. It's too awkward. I don't know exactly if I feel the same way, and I assume it's best not to say anything at all. I pretend not to notice the hurt in his eyes when I continuously change the subject every time he declares his feelings for me out loud. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't know how to interpret whatever this is that I feel for him.
I used to think that love was simple. It wasn't hard for me to love when I was a child—my mother, Prim, my father...
But that was long before everything happened. Because now I know that even when you love someone, there's still the possibility that they can be taken away from you in a moment.
It isn't long before Gale and my tender make-out session is interrupted by the sound of his younger sibling clearing his throat. Gale groans a bit, pulling away from me and instead wrapping his arm over my shoulders while Rory smirks a bit at the state he's just caught us in.
"Where were you two?" Gale asks Rory and Prim as they make their way up the steps of our porch. They exchange a mischievous glance towards one another before shrugging.
"I'm not even sure that I wanna know, but what could you two have possibly been up to for the past three hours?" Gale wonders out loud, and I don't miss the implication in his voice. I narrow my eyes at my sister, who's face flushes under my discerning stare. I don't even want to contemplate that maybe our siblings had been up to the same thing we've been. They're just barely teenagers. Besides, making out with a Hawthorne was the last thing on my mind at 13. Not that they haven't been spending a lot of time together lately, because they have. But there didn't seem to be anything going on between the pair other than a strong friendship.
Then again, Rory is Gale's brother. Luckily, before I even begin to think about castrating him, Rory breaks the long silence between us.
"We were at the Justice Building," he explains.
"Rory!" Prim exclaims, reaching out to firmly grasp the boy's upper arm in warning.
Rory easily shrugs my sister off, looking towards her with annoyance. "They're gong to find out anyways, Prim."
Gale and I exchange a confused glance.
"What business would you two have at the Justice Building?" I ask warily.
Prim bites her lower lip apprehensively before saying, "We've signed up for tesserae."