I crack open the door and slip into the house. Stashing the herb bag in a cabinet, I tiptoe back to my room and hide my dirty clothes. I cringe as I see the collared blue dress lying on the foot of my bed. I should be grateful…But it feels so fake. The dress was originally my mother's, and is made of valuable imported fabric from District 8.
Katniss wore this dress to her Reapings.
Whenever Katniss wore the dress, I told her she looked like a princess. She did too, a strong, brave princess, who would never let her sister down, never abandon her family. The sky blue fabric brought out her eyes and complemented her long, winding chestnut hair. She would smile at me then, and tell me that she wished she could be a princess like me. She'd pick me up and spin me around. "I will always be here for you."
The mines made a liar out of Katniss in the end.
I fall back asleep for a few hours, and when I come out again, my mother is making pancakes. I can smell the hot thick cakes frying, delicious even though they are made from the coarse tesserae grain.
"Good morning Mom," I say, trying to hide my surprise at seeing her up and active.
She turns away from the stove and offers me a weak smile and a brief nod. Apparently, her only living daughter does not warrant actual conversation. I miss when she would talk to me. Before the mining accident, she would laugh, and her blue eyes would sparkle all day long. Now I feel lucky to get the nod and halfhearted smile. Why does she shut me out? I could help her. We could help each other. I get so lonely running the apothecary shop alone, and since I dropped out of school I haven't made any friends. I promise myself, by next reaping I won't be alone. If I survive that long.
Pushing aside my morbid thoughts, I plunk down in one of the rickety chairs surrounding our wobbly kitchen table. My mom wordlessly slides a wide, thick cake onto my plate, and I can tell it's a special occasion because the pancake glistens with golden goat butter. I can only choke down half of it, but feel bad for wasting the treat.
I glance up at my mother who has also sat down with a decidedly small pancake. I begin to walk away coolly, but I can't do that today. I smile at her. "Thank you for breakfast." She just nods again, but as I leave the room, I notice a little more conviction in her smile. Happy Reaping Day.
On Reaping Day, we bathe. I carry water in from the pump and my mother heats it on the stove- electrified especially for the Reaping. Down from the attic I drag our ancient dented tub and pour the steaming pails in. Ahhhhhh. The water burns my skin, but it's a nice burn that takes away the grime and fear that always seems to be built in to my body. I comb through my knotted blonde hair with my fingers and grimace at the snarls. I'm about ready to give up and go to the Reaping with my hair in a tangle when mom comes in with a real comb. Swiftly she sweeps through my unruly mane, taming it in an instant and deftly plaiting it behind my head.
"Thank you mother," I say as I step out of the bath. Again, I receive only a curt nod, but I've learned not to expect much more. Now for the dress. Ugh.
Where on Katniss the dress flattered and complemented, on me it only hangs shapelessly. I'm grateful our house has no mirrors, because at this point I don't really want to know. My own imagination fills in most of the details, and I have no desire to confirm them.
Still, my mother bursts into tears when she sees me. "Beautiful," she whispers, and I gasp. It's the first time I've heard her speak in more than 4 months, and a part of me was wondering whether she'd ever speak again. She isn't looking too poorly herself today, when she's bathed and wearing one of her nice dresses from when she was rich she can actually be beautiful. I know that this is just a shell, a façade for the Reaping, but I imagine for a moment that this is my real mom. She is beautiful, and tells me I'm beautiful. She makes me breakfast and fixes my hair. I shake my head. Welcome to the real world, Prim.
Mom opens the door, and together we walk out of the house to the square for the Reaping.