Chapter 2
Greasy Sae makes me take another bath. I don't fight her this time. I know it's a good idea.
I'm seeing Peeta again tonight. I wonder what he'll say. Is he wondering what I'm going to say? Is he thinking about me at all? Maybe he just needs someone besides Haymitch to talk to.
Does he still want to kill me? Surely he doesn't. He wouldn't invite me to dinner if he wanted to kill me. He'd just do it, right? Maybe it's to ask me to stay away from him. Maybe he wants to tell me that he's made a full recovery and doesn't think I'm a mutt anymore. Maybe it's just for another round of Real or Not Real.
What am I going to have to say? The whole time I've been back in twelve I've barely left my house. What will we talk about? The view out my window? The few walks Greasy Sae has made me take? How much I miss hunting? How much I miss other things?
I have no idea what he'll say or what I'll say. But I can control how I look. There's something comforting in that.
I open my closet, looking at some of the more casual clothes Cinna made me for the Victory Tour. I wince, remembering the man who made them and how much I owe him. I decide on a burgundy sweater, grey pants, and comfortable black boots. As I stare at myself in the mirror, fidgeting I try to remember how long it's been since I've seen my reflection. But before I can recall I walk downstairs and dry my hair by the fire.
After I can put if off no longer, I walk over to his house.
I stand on the stoop, willing myself to knock. What are we going to talk about? Almost everyone we know is dead, has abandoned us or won't talk to us because we remind them of something they don't want to remember.
But, Peeta. How is he? Is he the way he was in the war? The games? When we were in school together? Or when he gave me the bread?
I knock.