(A/N: This chapter is soooo long, well compared to my other chapters... Oh well, enjoy! P.S. Some of you have been waiting for some of the events that take place in this chapter...)
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three days after the incident in the woods, my days become a part of the same boring routine: eat, sleep, draw; eat sleep draw. On occasion it changes to eat, sleep, draw, shoot an arrow I found under my bed at the wall; but the last one particularly gets me in trouble, especially when my parents notice the tiny holes to the right of my window frame.
My dad keeps trying to coax me into helping him with his orders for the bakery, but, I politely remind him of the time when I accidentally used salt instead of sugar, completely ruining the entire batch of cookies. He ponders this for a moment before coming to the conclusion that I am fine doing what I am now. Besides, he has Asher.
Nothing tremendously interesting happens until two days before my birthday. I am sitting on the couch playing Asher's version of the Real or Not Real game. It's mathematical based, it's whole purpose to help him learn his simple facts.
Asher is stuck on one of the most easiest problems (9+8) when my dad walks in, followed by my mother, who is clutching the book I was caught reading a couple of days ago to her chest. "Asher, why don't you go play in your room for right now?" he asks gently. There is a hint of apprehension in his voice; something almost unnoticeable. Asher doesn't object; probably because he is still stuck.
My parents take a seat on the couch, one on each side of me. They are looking at me with facial expressions so serious, I can't help but ask, "Am I in trouble?"
My dad chuckles. " No Willow, we just need to ask you a few things." I glance up at him questioningly. My dad sighs deeply, a sign that only means one thing- a long explanation lies ahead. "What do you know about the Hunger Games?" I pause. This question was entirely unexpected.
"Just the basics." I reply. "Like what is was and why they had it." Then a thought comes to mind. "Why?"
My dad completely disregards my inquiry and continues, "What about the victors of the Games?"
"No," I start hesitantly. Where is he going with this? "We learn that next year."
"Well, Annie, Haymitch, your mother and I were all victors of the Hunger Games. Did you know that?" I stare at him aghast and feeling somewhat ignorant for not realizing it before. After all we do live in a place called Victors Village.
"You...were...Victors?" I can just barely get the words out.
My mother nods, almost solemn. "In the 74th and 75th." she replies.
"But that's not possible." I inform assertively, remembering what the teacher had explained during the lesson over this subject. "There can only be one Victor, and in the Quarter Quell the tributes could only be previous Victors. Only one of you was a Victor, so..." I trail off, hoping that they got the point.
"I'm sorry Willow. I should have explained before. We were both Victors in the 74th Games, enabling us to be in the Quarter Quell." Two Victors, for one Games, what? My dad must have notice the confused look on my face, because he then adds, " They allowed two victors win in the 74th, as long as there district origin was the same."
"Why?"
My mother answers this time, but her reply isn't necessarily wholehearted. "At first the rules were as usual,- only one Victor, but then they made an announcement stating that 'both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive'." She stops breifly to make sure that I am paying attention. My mother gives me a sort of look that clearly hints if I don't listen now, then she's is not going to explain it to me ever again. She continues, "When it was just your father and I left, they announced that the previous rule change had been revoked and the rules were now back to normal. I was... enraged," My mother chooses her words carefully. "So, I pulled out the nightlock we had previously found in the forest and split it between the two of us. I had it in my mindset that they should have no Victor, and so we were about to swallow the berries at same time, when they frantically told us that we were the victors." She finishes with a grimace, like the recollection pains her. "Does that make sense?"
"Yes." I lie.
"The Capitol did not take this lightly." says my dad. "They thought your mother was trying to show them up." On any other circumstance, I would question this, but the expression on my dad's face is so stern, that I know he is not fibbing.
They alternate when explaining about the Quarter Quell and the rebellion. My mother mainly talks about how she was the rebel's symbol, their 'Mockingjay'.
When they finish, I realize that I have not said one simple word, phrase or sentence throughout their entire elucidation. I want to rise and embrace both of them for all they have seen and been through, but my whole body feels like lead, limiting my amount of motion at the moment.
"Do you have any questions?" asks my dad. I gaze at him thoughtfully. Now would be a great time to have that list.
"Why do you...uh..." How do I put this? "...act weird?" I am vaguely referring to his episodes that have been recently occurring. He stares at me for a second, perplexed, before understanding what it was I was questioning.
"While you mother was in thirteen," He swallows hard with a strained look etched across his face. " I was in the Capitol. The President at the time, President Snow, was trying to use me to get your mother to... well, break." I scrunch up my eyebrows in confusion. What does he mean 'break'? Despite my facial expressions, he continues. "They brainwashed me, make me think your mother was the enemy... a mutt. I was hijacked in other words. My memories and experiences were all altered or erased. That is why I do that, Willow, because I get those memories again." He waits for me to say something, but I am at a loss for words. "Anything else?"
Only like a million, I think. "Yes." I mumble. "But this one is for mother. Who was the man in the woods a couple of days ago, you know, the one who said he knew you?" Her face grows deathly pale, as my father gazes at her through his peripherals.
"He was an old friend of mine." she replies almost inaudible to my ears. My dad's eyes widen in recognition. He must know him too. He gently grabs my mother's hand and without a word, escorts her from the room.
"We'll be right back." he reassures me.
"Where are you going?" I call out to him. My dad completely ignores my question, leaving me on the couch, alone.
Roughly two minutes later, I hear the sound of his voice. " It was him wasn't it?" Apparently my mother doesn't reply because I don't hear any other words.
They soon return back to the room in which I am presently sitting, retaking their spots next to me. " His name is Gale Hawthorne." answers my mother.
"Oh." is the one word that escapes my mouth.
"I think that's enough explaining for today." says my dad while checking to see if my mother approves. She just nods in agreement.
"But-!" I start to protest, but my mother interrupts me.
"Besides, we have to get ready for Annie and Everest." she says while presenting me with 'The Look'.
'The Look' is a crossover between a scowl and something else I can't quite decipher to this day, expression of authority maybe? When I was a toddler, I kept meddling around in stuff that I shouldn't have been messing with and it was in those early moments of my life, when 'The Look' was born.
I watch as my parents exit the room.
"Can I come down now?" pleads Asher from atop the stairs.
I hear a chuckle from the kitchen. "Yes!" shouts my dad. All of a sudden Asher comes bounding down the stairs showing no signs of grace whatsoever.
"Asher, could you be any louder?" I ask faking my irritation. He smiles impishly.
"Can you play with me?" he asks oh, so innocently.
"Sorry." I reply apathetically. " I can't. Remember? The ankle?"
Lets just say, he basically disregarded each word that previously came out of my mouth.
"We can play with the dough daddy gave me." he suggests.
I scoff playfully. "Mother is not going to let us play with dough on the couch." He ponders this for a moment before dashing off into the kitchen.
I swear, in a matter of seconds here comes Asher with two large blobs of dough and his face practically broken in half caused by the smile stretched across it. "She said it was fine."
"Great." I say sarcastically while he starts to make 'cookies' with the sticky stuff.
"Lets play bakery." he says. "You're the customer, and I'm the baker."
I nod in agreement. "Okay." Asher has always been interested in working at the bakery ever since he was little; I, on the other hand, am a disgrace to the career 'baker' and basically anything related to that for that matter. Asher is a better baker at age six, than I am at almost age twelve.
"What would you like?" He asks using his quote on quote "dad voice".
"Three cookies and a cheese bun please." Ah, the deliciousness of one of my dad's cheese buns, just the thought makes me hungry.
I watch Asher get to work on the 'cookies'. When he starts on the cheese bun, his face grows puzzled. I laugh. "What's the hold up Baker Mellark?" He frowns at me.
Asher's final piece consists of only a small blob of dough placed on top of a larger blob, but hey, it's better than anything I could do.
He sets the goods on a small saucer and hands them to me. I grab them and reply, "Just put it on my tab." He nods slowly, obviously confused.
We start over, but this time I order a wedding cake for Everest and his so called bride-to-be; but of course Asher doesn't know that. He just keeps thinking it's for mother and dad.
He is making the second layer when we hear a call from the kitchen. "Asher, Willow, dinner!" It's my dad.
Asher jumps up and races to the kitchen at a speed that I didn't even know he was capable of traveling at. I start after him. "Hey wait! Remember I'm slow." I shout while gesturing to my ankle. He turns around and giggles before taking off even faster than before. I scowl at his backside that is now getting further and further away. How does he find my ankle funny?
I am the last one to arrive at the table. As I take a seat, I notice that the past few nights- including tonight- we have not had any peas. I wonder why, I think with maybe just a hint of sarcasm.
Over dinner Asher tells another one of his stories about his friends. Again, I get bored and start obsessively stirring my stew because there is nothing to launch considering the lack of vegetables. I seriously, thoroughly, think about catapulting my stew, but then come to the conclusion that that specific action is too noticeable; especially since my mother has been eying me very carefully at dinnertime these past few days.
"Willow?" asks my dad interrupting my thoughts about a new game to keep myself occupied.
"Yeah?" I look up a bit startled.
"What about your friends?"
"Friend." I correct. "I only have one. Her name is Hazel."
He ponders this then asks, "What's her last name?"
"Hawthorne." My mother's eyes widen. The reason then strikes me. " Her dad's name is Rory, though, not Gale." I reassure her.
"Rory is Gale's little brother." she mutters under her breath.
"Oh."
My dad glances back and forth from my mother to me before stating, "Changing the subject, Annie and Everest are coming tomorrow."
I nod. "What time does their train come in?" I ask.
"8:00 am, so we will have to wake up somewhat early." This comment is directed entirely towards me. I have the tendency to wake up late by accident sometimes.
"Okay." I say while swallowing the last spoonful of my stew. I slowly rise and walk over to the sink and rinse my bowl.
"How's your ankle?" asks my mother from behind me.
"It doesn't hurt that much anymore, but it is still a nuisance." She laughs. It feels good to hear my mother laugh after the earlier events that took place today.
"Let me look at it." I gently set my bowl down and hop up onto the counter. My mother carefully removes the stiff bandage.
The swelling in my ankle has gone down tremendously but there is still some discoloration. Not to mention the pain has ebbed quite a bit.
My dad wordlessly walks behind my mother, who looks up from her examining. "It's getting better." She says to me before turning her head. " I told you it would be fine, Peeta."
"How did you know I was dad and not Asher behind you?" I am now not afraid to ask them questions like these anymore ever since their explanation.
My mother grins. " I have lived with him for almost thirty years, I know what he sounds like." she pauses, waiting for my reaction. "His artificial leg makes a noise when he walks." she explains while re-wrapping my ankle.
"Oh." Then another thought comes to mind. "Why do you have an artificial leg anyways?" I ask. He glances nervously around the room. I guess to make sure Asher isn't listening; though, he is too busy playing with his spoon.
"In our first Games, I got cut really deep and ended up getting blood poisoning. By the time we got back to the Capitol it was too late, so they removed it and replaced it with this." he says while gesturing to his leg. He then adds with a smile, "It was all thanks to your mother and her bad healing skills." This just brings on one of her trademark scowls. I burst into a fit of laughter along with my dad, and then freeze up quickly after realizing that she is the one healing me.
"What so funny?" asks Asher who has stopped playing and is now looking at us confused.
"Nothing." Reassures my dad with a chuckle. "I think it's time for you two to get to bed." he suggests once my mother is finished.
"But it's only eight!" I protest in a voice much younger than mine.
"Yes, but you are waking up early remember?" My dad picks up Asher, who automatically clings to his body.
"Goodnight mommy." He says
"Goodnight Asher, goodnight Willow. I love you." replies my mother.
" I love you too." Asher and I say concurrently. She strides over and hugs us both
My dad walks us up the stairs. He pauses when we reach Asher's room. I start to walk further down the hallway, when he calls to me. "I'll be there in a second." I simply nod and continue walking.
When inside my room I shut the door, and change into my sleep clothes.
I am sitting on my bed sketching, when there is a soft knock at my door. "Come in." I say.
My dad slowly emerges from behind it and takes silent steps towards me. When he reaches my bed, he embraces me in one of his bear-hugs. "Goodnight." He whispers into my ear while tucking me in.
"Goodnight. I love you." I reply.
"I love you too." he says while standing up. "Oh, and Willow," my dad starts. "Don't let what we talked about today frighten you. Your mother keeps worrying that it will."
"I won't." I reassure him almost too quickly.
"Good." he mutters while kissing my forehead and then walking out the door.
Unfortunately my mother's worries come true. I lye there on my bed thinking about everything they said. The thoughts keep delaying my sleep.
Eventually my eyelids grow heavy and I submerge into my dreamland.