I am so sorry this took so long! I started this chapter a few weeks ago but things kept coming up. I finally made myself sit down and finish this. If there are mistakes blame writing after midnight, hope you enjoy!
16 years old
I arrive at mine and Gale's rock ledge about an hour before sunrise. I'm exhausted, I stayed up half the night holding Prim while we battled nightmares and tears. Her first reaping is in just a few hours and no amount of cuddling and soothing words could get her to sleep peacefully. A few hours after Prim had finally fallen asleep I decided to get up and go to the forest. I managed to trade some blackberries for a few batteries for the small flashlight we keep in the kitchen. I should be able to gather a few herbs to replace some in my mothers stock.
After gathering a little I made my way to our spot. Gale should be here soon and he'll want to start right away. Maybe he'll want a piece of the pie I bake with Peeta and his father. I shake my head, I don't really want to think of Peeta right now; we have one class together and the teacher decided to make us read lines from this old play called Romeo and Juliet. She paired Peeta and I together and made a big production of each pair standing in front of the class. And as luck would have it- we got a kiss in our scene. When we got to that part Peeta grew flustered and awkwardly kissed my cheek. It seemed like I could still feel his lips on my skin hours later, they were surprisingly soft, and warm.
"Something wrong with your face, Catnip?" Gale asks, flopping down next to me. He lets out a long suffering groan when he stretches his legs out in front of him -the mines seem to be wearing his body already.- I hadn't even noticed I was rubbing the cheek Peeta had kissed a week ago, the kiss made my chest tight and my stomach floaty, making me angry at Peeta; I shouldn't be affected with feelings I don't understand, nor do I want to. I've got no time for silly things.
Besides, Peeta needs to find himself a proper girl. Someone like the candy makers daughter, Delly Cartwright- she's been sweet on Peeta for a while now. They don't come nicer than Delly. Or even Mayor Undersee's daughter, Madge. I've tried to steer him in their direction a few times, he usually laughs at me and changes the subject.
I put my hands in my lap and clear my throat. "No, just thinking."
Gale sighs sadly next to me. "I felt the same way when Vick's first reaping came around. I don't even know how my mother is going to handle today, Vick and Rory are going to be in that square today."
"I was up all night with her, if she wasn't crying about herself she was hyperventilating over me."
"Twenty isn't so bad, Nip. I had forty-two at my last reaping."
I'm silent for a minute, not sure what else to say. It's a depressing day all around, I'd rather not spoil what little carefree time I have.
"And what of our feast?" I ask snatching Gale's bag. Once we started hunting together we would make a special breakfast on reaping days. Nothing fancy, just flat biscuits and jam Hazel made.
Gale smiles a soft smile and pulls out a cloth with two biscuits and a pot of jam. He opens it and dips his biscuit inside and hands it to me. The smell of fresh peaches wafts from the container. "Where did your mother get peaches?" I ask in awe. They're hard to come by in The Seam, even after the trains bring produce, the Merchants buy all of the good stuff before they hit the market, forget about finding this stuff at The Hob (The Seam's (illegal) version of the Merchant quarter, if you've got the means, you can trade for just about anything there, it's frowned upon, but the Peacekeepers usually don't mind; a few even spend their money there.) My question causes Gale's face to darken.
"Haymitch Abernathy. About a week ago some Capital lackey came and decided that his house keeping wasn't fit for a Victor. They asked around and everyone told the guy that my mom was the best laundress in District Twelve. She cleans his house, and he pays her in food. Not like he needs it, the lousy drunk. Spends all of his money on booze." Gale finishes, brushing his hands on his pants.
Haymitch Abernathy is District Twelves second and only living Victor. He spends most of his time holed up in his home in Victor's Village, usually piss drunk and sitting in his own filth. My mother says he wasn't always like the way he is now. He came from The Seam, had a family and was going to school. He came back from his Games different, and not too long after, his mother passed away. He's been drinking himself to death ever since.
"Is he nice to her?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Haymitch hasn't been known to be cruel, but drunks tend to have loose lips.
Gale makes a low growling noise, and looks to the top of the trees. "Her first day, he was so drunk he thought my mom was some girlfriend he had before the Games. She had to slap him to get him out of his hallucination. He hasn't done anything like that sense,"
We're quiet after that; me, not knowing what to say to that, and Gale, not wanting to continue that line of conversation.
"We should leave," Gale says abruptly, startling me. I look at the position of the sun and guess that it's only closer to eight.
"It's still early, we have time."
"No, I meant we should leave. Pack up our moms and the kids and go. We could do it,"
Not this again, ever since he started working in the mines, this is a focal point of our conversations. I'm not against leaving, but one of us has to be practical.
"You know it would be impossible with everyone," I say hoping to close the topic.
"It wouldn't be different from what it is now, we'd just be in the woods."
"And you think our mothers want to live the rest of their lives wondering the forest? Could you imagine Peeta out here?"
Gale glares at me, but softens his features after a moment. "You'd ask Peeta and his family?"
I scrunch my forehead at his question. "Of course I'd ask, he's my friend."
Gale nods, accepting my answer for now.
We're quiet again, and my mind drifts back to Peeta. There's no way he'd come with us if we decided to go for it. I've taught him a lot, but there's still a lot I don't know. And as much as his relationship with his mother is strained, I don't see him leaving his parents, especially his father. No, Peeta needs to stay. Find a wife who will love him and take care of him.
"I never want to get married," the words tumble out.
Gale looks at me from the corner of his eye. "And what about Peeta?"
I look at him, confused, what does Peeta have to do with me not wanting to get married?
"What if- what if Peeta wanted to court you?" There's something along with his voice that I can't place, he doesn't look at me as he asks the question.
His behavior doesn't stop the laughter from bubbling up and erupting. "That's ridiculous," I pant once my laughter has died down.
Gale doesn't respond, he just shakes his head. He helps me stand and we silently head back into the thick of the woods. Checking snares along the way. We manage to get a few squirrels, and decide to head back so we have time to stop at the Mellark's before I have to get ready for the reaping.
Since Gale said he would try and be nicer to Peeta I've taken him with me a few times to the bakery so he could trade with Mr. Mellark. He goes on his own sometimes, but it's usually quicker if we just go together.
With almost everyone still in bed it's a quick journey to the Merchant side of the District, we don't even run into Peacekeers. I knock of the back door and step back, already hearing someone shuffling around in the kitchen. The door swings open to reveal Rye on the other side. His eyes gleam and he leans against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest; a mischievous smirk on his face. "Hey there, Kitty Cat. What's got you a callin' so early?"
"Well, my day isn't complete until I get a chance to see you. Has your rash cleared up yet?" I ask snickering.
Rye doesn't seem fazed, "As a matter of fact it does look better, want to see?" He asks reaching for his pants.
"No! No, no. Don't to that." I say reaching out and stopping his hands. I glance at Gale, who isn't used to Rye, but doesn't seem to be too bothered. I'm sure I'll hear about it later.
Rye laughs and resumes his stance in the door frame. "Oh Kitten, you're too easy." He turns his head back into the kitchen. "Peet! Katniss is here!" He turns back to me and winks and says, "Good to see you, Hawthorne." Before turning back into the warmth of the bakery. Gale chuckles, but turns it into a cough when I look up at him.
"What?" He asks with feigned innocence.
"We're you just going to let him open his pants?" I ask incredulously.
"I knew he was joking." Gale says with a shrug.
I don't get a chance to reply because Peeta is at the door, looking like he just woke up, but still offers me a smile so bright it would make the sun jealous. I notice it dims slightly when he sees Gale is with me. He was suspicious when I told him that Gale said he would try to be nicer. He's not fully convinced this isn't a long con that ends up with him being hung up in the woods somewhere.
"Hey Katniss, Gale, my dad should be down soon. You want to come in?"
I shake my head. "No thanks, I still have to get home and get ready."
Peeta nods in understanding. "You still coming over after the reaping?" I almost roll my eyes. Every year with go through this, every year.
"Don't I always?" I say with a smile.
"And uh, Gale, you're welcome to join us."
"Thanks, but my mom is going to need help with supper." Gale politely declines.
There's footfalls on the stairs behind Peeta, and soon Mr. Mellark makes his way into the kitchen.
"Oh, wonderful! My squirrels are here!" I will still never understand this mans obsession with squirrel.
He stands before us and we dig out a squirrel each and hand them over.
"Well, these will make excellent stew! I'll be right back." Mr. Mellark said and then disappeared back in the bakery.
"I don't understand why he likes squirrel so much," Gale whispered next to me.
"I wonder that all the time." I said just as Mr. Mellark came back with two white bags.
"There you go! Katniss-" Mr. Mellark paused and looked behind him. "I put two cookies in your bag, I know your sister must be worried. My boys always felt better after a reaping when they had a sugar cookie."
I nod my thanks, and Gale and I step down the stairs.
"We'll see you later then?" Mr. Mellark calls after me. I turn and smile at him.
"Just like last year, and the year before that, and the-"
"Alright, child. Get out of here." He says shooing us away with a smile on his face.
...
Once I get to my house my mother has shoved me into our small bathroom to wash, we don't have much time.
"I could help you wash your hair?" My mother asks, playing with her sleeve. She had been trying to back off a little, she'd started to smother me after she came out of her depression. Now she fidgets when she offers to help me.
I only nod in acceptance, not having the energy to argue; and she tends to rub my scalp when she washes my hair, that sounds nice right now.
After I'm clean my mother brings in a dress, one I have only seen her wear once before. I slip it on and turn toward that mirror. It's blue, with sleeves that end just above my elbow and the hem falls just below my knees. I turn to my mother, the question clear on my face. Ever since she was disowned by her Merchant parents for marrying my father, her finer clothes had been kept in a trunk, her memories tied to them painful.
"I want you to wear it, every girl deserves to feel beautiful." She says reaching out and touching a strand of my hair. I look back at my reflection, I do feel beautiful; the soft fabric, although a few years old is still in good condition. The shape of the dress creates the allusion of curves that aren't there, the periwinkle bringing out the steel grey of my eyes.
"Would you like me to fix your hair?" My mother asks timidly. I look at her in the mirror.
"Is Prim ready?"
"Yes, I put lunch on the table while you were bathing."
I nod at her and sit on the bed, giving her room to sit behind me. She pads over and softly sits next to me and gets the brush from the small table. She gently runs the bristles through my tangles, messaging my scalp. She begins weaving an intricate braid, and by the time she is finished I realize I almost had fallen asleep.
"I'm sorry Prim kept you up, but she didn't want to come to my bed."
I so badly want to snap at her, but I remind myself that today is hard on her too.
"I'll be fine," I say shrugging off her hands and leaving the room.
Prim sits at our small table, eating a biscuit and cheese. She takes small bites and quietly chews while staring at the table.
"Are you ready, Duck?" I ask from the door smoothing the front of my dress. Prim's eyes flicker to meet mine before descending to the table top, the movement was quick, but I could still see the glistening of tears. I stride over to her chair and crouch down at her side. "Everything is going to be fine, Prim. It's only one piece of paper, we'll be picking berries and baking pies before you know it." Prim takes a fast, shuddering breath.
"But what about you? You have so many!" She says throwing herself in to my arms.
I wrap my arms around her tightly. "We'll figure it out; besides, there isn't anything I wouldn't do to come home to you." I whisper, giving her a little squeeze.
She pulls away and looks hard into my eyes. "Promise," she demands.
I smile sadly at her, "I promise."
...
I always seem to forget how hot the square gets on reaping day, with all the extra bodies corralled into sections by age. It's sweltering, Prim's face has flushed and the little hairs poking from her braid stick to her neck.
Before we get to the tables for signing in I pull her aside. "All you have to do is tell them your name, they'll prick your finger and you go to your square. As soon as this is over, you find mom as quickly as you can, and I'll meet you by the bakery." Prim's eyes had been locked on mine the moment I crouched down to her level, her beautiful blue irises are dull with fear, and the skin around her eyes is still puffy from her short cry on our walk to the square. "C'mon Duck, it's time to be brave." I take her hand and lead her to the tables.
Prim did well with the quick blood draw, I escorted her to the twelve year section and gave her one last hug. Now standing in the sixteen section, I look across the small isle and immediately find Peeta, his corn silk hair a bright beacon of light.
He must sense my gaze, he turns his head towards me and gives a halfhearted smile.
"You ok?" I mouth silently, only receiving a terse nod in reply.
I look to the back where the families are and spot Gale, Hazel, Posy and my mother. Gale gives a slight nod, Hazel a warm smile, and my mother is wringing her hands to a point it looks like her fingers may fall off. A loud static noise fills the air as the mayor, District Twelves escort, Effie Trinket; who unsurprisingly, is wearing quite the outrageous outfit. A long neon green skirt hides her feet, a blouse of the same color with flowing sleeves that reach almost to the tips of fingers and excess fabric that falls to the floor from the wrist, the collar of the shirt is sticking up and is high enough to almost reach the top of her head. The crowing jewel of the ensemble is a gold birdcage, with a live canary flying around.- How fitting, a canary in a coal mining town. Is the symbolism lost on her? Canaries are taken into the mines as an alarm system of sorts, if they stop singing, you should have already been out. And she, who escorts children to certain death, wears one on her head? It makes me feel ill.-And a noticeably cleaner version of Haymitch Abernathy take the stage.
The mayor gives the required speech of the history of Panem; it was once called North America, but wars, disasters and rebellion shaped it into what we know now as Panem; a strong Capital, nestled in the middle of thirteen Districts. The Capital brought peace and prosperity to the people. And then came the Dark Days, the revolt of the thirteen Districts. Twelve were brought back under control and the thirteenth was blown off the map.
The Treaty of Treason brought new laws and the Hunger Games, a yearly reminder that the uprisings must never happen again.
As punishment for the uprising each of the twelve districts must offer up one boy and one girl, known as Tributes to participate. The twenty four tributes will be held captive in an arena, with any kind of environment- a harsh desert to a bleak frozen tundra- lasting for several weeks. The Tributes are forced to survive harsh conditions, other Tributes, who, although not required, often kill other Tributes to speed things along.
Rules state that any number of Tributes may win, from multiple Districts, "survival through unity and generous gifts from Capital citizens." But the Capital never allows it. You can't give the Districts too much hope. The Games end when all obstacles are defeated and/or one Tribute remains.
The Games are held as a spectacular sporting event by the Capital, in the Career Districts (One, Two, and Four) to be chosen is an honor and to volunteer brings great pride to the families.
When he is finished he turns the microphone over to Effie, who takes short strides as her skirt is very constricting. "Hello, hello! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She trills in that wonderfully annoying Capital accent; sometimes when we have tea in the house, Prim and I pretend to be snobby Capital people with put on accents, it makes her laugh so much she can hardly drink her tea.
"As always, ladies first!" She steps away from the microphone and scuttles to the large glass bowl of papers, twenty of which have my name scrawled on them.
She digs her hand in, making a show of swirling the slips around.
One out of a thousand. Prim will be safe.
Satisfied with the one she's chosen she makes her way back to the podium and carefully unfolds the paper. I suck in a deep breath as she leans into the microphone.
"Primrose Everdeen!" She squeals, clapping her hands.
There was one time when I was thirteen when the electric fence surrounding the District had been turned on. I had been in too big of a hurry to meet Gale that I didn't stop and listen for the dangerous humming. I reached for the fence to separate it from the post and was immediately jolted back a few feet, landing on my back. My mother doesn't know how I survived.
But I remember my hands vibrating with the power surging through the wires, the heat traveling up my arms and seizing my heart.
And that is what I'm feeling now, I can feel the other girls staring at me, looks of pity and horror. Twelves were hardly chosen, and when they were it seemed that much more cruel.
I almost miss Prim passing my section before I bolt into action. I push girls out of my way and stumble over the ropes, sprinting I grab my sister and shove her behind me.
"I volunteer! Please!" I scream. "I volunteer as Tribute!" I finish in a calmer tone.
"Katniss!" Prim screeches behind me, tugging on the back of my dress. "No, no, no!" She shouts pulling me back. Suddenly her grip is gone, and Gale has picked her up. His eyes are sad, but I can still see the pride beneath it.
"Go on, Catnip, I've got her." I nod and walk to the stage on hollow legs.
"A volunteer! How marvelous! What's your name, dear?" Effie asks as she thrusts the microphone in my face.
Aware of the cameras, I stand tall and make my face blank. "Katniss Everdeen," I say, my voice a lot stronger than I feel.
"Oh my! I bet this pretty bird that that was your sister." She says almost giddily. I don't really blame her, District Twelve is the smallest of all and our reapings are uneventful, this will probably be the most exciting thing she'll witness in her career as District Twelve's escort.
I nod my head in confirmation. Sending Effie into another round of hysterics. "Oh wonderful!" She says gleefully, and then sighs. "Well we mustn't let you have all the glory, let's find out who your District counterpart is!" She practically glides over to the other bowl, picking the first slip her fingers come in contact with, she bounces back unfolding the paper as she walks.
"Roger Halpert! Where are you, Roger dear?" She puts a hand to her brow to block out the sun and scans the crowd. A small boy from The Seam makes his way to the isle, no older than thirteen, he is very skinny and walks as if one leg is shorter than the other. As much as I feel bad for Roger I am tremendously relieved that Peeta, Vick and Rory have been spared another year.
Roger is almost to the stage when a familiar voice calls out, "I volunteer!"
My heart stops as Peeta steps up to the boy and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, Roger sags with relief, and his mother runs and gathers him in her arms, sobbing her thanks in Peeta's direction.
This can't be happening, he was supposed to be ok. Why is he doing his? So many emotions are raging inside of me. Pride, for allowing that small boy at least one more year, sadness because I know Peeta can't kill- he has some wilderness skills that I've taught him- and anger, how dare he throw his life away!
"My goodness, another volunteer! Please tell me your name, young man."
"Peeta Mellark," he replies in an unwavering voice, staring down the crowd.
I look over to the people by the bakery and see his father and brothers, his mothers face shows grief, but she sheds no tears. His father is openly weeping, his left hand covers his mouth. Rye and Bram stare at the ground, jaws locked.
"Outstanding! Please shake hands, and we'll be on our way!"
Peeta and I turn to one another and claps hands. His hands haven't changed much from when we were children, just grown larger.
Suddenly I remember his small hands giving me bread.
It had been three days since there had been food in our home, I was walking around the Merchant quarter trying to sell or trade some mittens my mother had made before my father died, they were uneven and moths had gotten to a few. No one wanted them. I had some how on my way home managed to find my way behind a few businesses, being in my weakened state I slipped and fell, landing on the edge of concrete steps. The sound of my painful cry alerting the owner of the shop I was behind. Unfortunately for me, it was Mellark's bakery.
The door opened to reveal the angry face of Mrs. Mellark, upon seeing me laying at the bottom of her stairs she started screaming, telling me to get away before I scared away respectable paying customers. Standing up, I noticed a boy standing behind her, her son, Peeta. I've seen him around school but never spoken to him. I mumbled an apology and stumbled away from the steps, only making it as far as the scraggly apple tree a few feet away from the door.
After a few minutes of trying to gather my strength there was a loud clatter and shout from the bakery kitchen. The door was thrown open and Mrs. Mellark shoved Peeta down the steps.
"Give it to the pigs you disgraceful boy! No one will buy that now!" She shouted slamming the door. Peeta looked at the door and then looked at me. His small face had already started to swell where her hands had struck him.
He ran to me and knelt on his knees, opening my thin jacket, he pressed the two loaves of burnt bread into my torso. "I'm sorry I burnt it so much," he said closing and buttoning my coat. "But I had to make sure it couldn't be sold." He sat there looking into my eyes for what seemed like forever before he smiled and stood. I quickly snatched his hand to stop him from standing fully.
"Wait!" I whispered, swallowing what little saliva I had, my voice was rough with exhaustion and dehydration. "Thank you,"
Peeta's smile brightened and he helped me to stand. With a newfound strength I ran home. The still warm loaves keeping me warm.
The joy in Prim's face when she seen the bread had almost ensured that I gave her at least half of the first loaf.
The gentle squeeze of my hand brings me back to the present. I'm not a starving girl anymore and Peeta is still watching over me.
...
Few things have changed, I don't remember who Delly's parents were, or if they were even important.
We'll still see Madge, she'll be in the next chapter.
I hope I haven't changed who Katniss is too much, I just see her as being a different person if she had been able to thank Peeta, plus we'll see how he wormed his way in her life soon.
Thank you so much for reading and favoriting shoot me a review if the notion strikes you.