Im so so SO SORRY! I know its been MONTHS since ive updated and i feel awful about it :( The truth is one of my very close friend/roommate was diagnosed with IDC breast cancer. She was in and out of the hospital for months and is now doing much much better. Im sorry about the long wait but i was quite distracted and frankly i didnt even think of writing. But everything is much better now :) and i will be going back to my normal updates! And as always ENJOY :D
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT MY OWN CHARACTERS
Chapter 6
I play the song that was the last thing Rue ever heard on this Earth. Tears continue to stream down my face, falling onto the ivory keys as my fingers create the melody that sung her to sleep. To death. I can't bring myself to sing the lyrics, so playing the notes will have to do for now. Seeing her today, or thinking I saw her today, was the worst flashback yet.
The first time it happened was when I opened my knife drawer in my new kitchen. Peeta and I had just finished our stories of heartbreak and woe, and the pastries that he bought were looking even more delicious than usual. I opened my knife drawer to cut one in half for us to share, but, the moment I laid my eyes on the sharp blade, I reeled backwards.
Peeta told me I fell to the ground screaming and yelling, but I don't remember that. The only thing I recall is looking into the drawer and seeing all the knifes covered in fresh blood, the red liquid dripping off every blade. The next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to find myself on Peeta's lap.
I convinced him then that there was no reason for alarm, that I was just startled by the knives and, that my mind just played a trick on me with the blood. I could tell he didn't believe me, but he let it go.
That is until we went into my backyard, and I saw the boy from district three getting stabbed by Clove. When I woke up that time, it was in my bedroom to the hushed voices of Peeta and Haymitch.
It took them days to convince me I was not going mad. They insisted that this was just because of the trauma of being in the Games and then being forced back into real life. My brainhad yet to realize it was out of the danger zone, that I was safe.
Still, this last one was by far the worst. Not only due to the pain of seeing Rue die once again, but because of whom I had been around. It was not only my first panic attack- flashback or whatever the correct term for it is- in public, but it just had to be in front of him. In front of his whole family! And Katniss. As if I need another reason to look like a fool in her eyes.
And the way she looked at me as she left my house, the pity in her eyes...that stung more than I ever thought it would. There was a time when I thought we were friends, when I truly believed I meant something to her. But I suppose I'm a pretty bad judge of who cares and who doesn't when it comes to me.
The song comes to an end, though my hands hover over the keys. My gaze falls onto the bottle of sleep syrup that sits perched on top of my piano. Visions of my mother strung out from morphine fly into my head, her body limp as thee drug drags her into a state of bliss. I promised myself that I would never let that happen to me, and yet, here I am, not even home a month and already having to taking sleeping syrup to give me an escape from the demons that haunt me.
Heaving myself off the bench, I grab the glass bottle in my hand, placing it in my kitchen cabinet before slamming the door shut. I don't need drugs. I am not weak, no matter what Katniss or her mother thinks.
I ascend the stairs quickly, throwing myself onto my bed and pulling the heavy covers to my chin. I force my eyes shut, begging my mind to give me a good dream, or no dream at all. To just- for one night- not feel all the pain and grief, to just get one night of rest.
It soon however becomes quite apparent that my pleas are falling on deaf ears, and I curl into a ball under my sheets. My breathing becomes erratic, and my head aches as visions of dead children falling dead before me.
Before whatever measure of self control I have left can stop myself, I throw my covers off of me, my feet racing down the stairs. I yank open the cabinet that- not even half an hour ago- I slammed shut in frustration. After rummaging through the drawers in my kitchen, I finally find a teaspoon. My hands shake as I pour the clear liquid into the spoon. I don't think, I don't allow myself to feel the guilt and fear of hiding in the same way my mother does. Instead I jam the spoon full of the sickly sweet syrup into my mouth.
The syrup leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I can already feel its effects on me. I hold tightlyonto the stairwell as I try to make my way back to my bedroom. I feel my feet slip from underneath me, my body going limp as my eyelids drift close. Next time, I should take this when I'm already in bed, is my last thought before I fall into a deep sleep.
The sun is too bright. That's the only coherent thought I can produce as my eyes slowly blink open. As I stretch my arms up over my head, a long yawn comesout of my mouth. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden light.
A tiny smile smile comes to my lips as I remember my dream-free night. My smile promptly disappears however when I remember the price I paid in order to get said night. I slowly sit up, my back cracking and making unnatural sounds as I struggle to rise from the floor. I groan as I realize that, not only did I sleep on the hard ground, but I was only about two steps away from my bed. My comfy, warm bed that would not have made my back knot into a pretzel.
Gradually I make my way to the bathroom to inspect the damage. My eyes grow wide as I catch my reflection staring at me. For the first time in weeks, there are no bags under my eyes, my skin does not seem to sag off my cheeks. I feel refreshed, rejuvenated, I feel…normal.
As I get into the hot shower I try to reason with myself. It was just a one-time thing, I'm not weak, I'm not addicted, I won't get addicted.
All the things I'm sure every person says to themselves before they down another bottle of whiskey or jab another needle into their arm. Just like Haymitch. Just like my mother.
I shake my head, trying to clear away these thoughts as I quickly towel off and get dressed. Rue's star pendent pokes my skin as I pull a sundress over my head, and I rub my thumb over the small star.
The images of the tributes in the white room flash before my eyes as I stare down at the pendent around my neck. All of them telling me it wasn't my fault, to not blame myself. Thresh telling me to live my life...which is the exact opposite of what I have been doing.
Sure, yesterday I had every intention to go have lunch with Peeta and his friends, but it was all too easy to spend the hours in the safety of my old home. And, yes, of course I wanted to spend time with my mother and Nora, but even I know that I was lingering, stalling, buying myself time before I had to go out into the world again.
My reflection becomes hard and determined in the mirror as I quickly brush my hair, letting it fall past my shoulders. I got out of the house yesterday, which was in itself a huge step forward, but today I have to really push myself, to really try. I have to get used to being around people that did not know me before, or, at least, not well enough to care. I have to try to coexist with the rest of District Twelve.
I inspect my reflection in the mirror as I slip on a pair of shoes, fixing my hair to look mildly presentable, straightening out my dress. The last thing I do before heading out my front door is pull out the chain that has Rue's pendent dangling from it. I let it hang in front of my dress. I have no reason to hide it anymore.
According to the clock on top of my mantle place, I have a little more than an hour before lunch begins over at the school. I bite my lip as I stand on the front porch, trying to decide what the best plan of action is to waste that time. Something that does not include me going back inside the house because if I do, I doubt that I'll find it in me to leave again.
I'm still standing there when I see him dash out of the house next door, his steps full of huffiness and smoke. He grumbles something underneath his breath, shaking his head violently, his eyes cast downwards.
It's the first time I really allow my eyes to follow him. He still has the same dark features, same posture, same ever present scowl. He still looks like the boy I loved from afar for all that time, like the boy that tricked a whole country into thinking he loved me back.
Pretend. Pretend everything's alright, pretend until you convince everyone, even yourself. He's not paying attention as he stomps around his front yard, grumbling in frustration. Pretend pretend pretend.
"Good morning," I call out to him, my voice coming out strangled and in a higher pitch than usual. I have to force myself not to cringe as the sound echoes in my ears.
His head snaps up, his eyes giving away his obvious startlement. His grey eyes widen even more when they see me standing only a few yards away from where he is, with only a picket gate between us. He blinks rapidly, his brow shifting down into a look of utter confusion.
I feel my cheeks begin to burn red, but, still, I force myself to stay facing him, trying not to feel too offended by his expression and lack of response. Finally, when I know that if I stand here for another moment I will either burst into tears or throw my shoe at him, I give him the award-winning smile I reserve for times when all I want to do is yell and hit things, before walking down my porch and out my yard. And even though I feel his eyes on me, I refuse to look back.
While the standoff with Gale seemed in my mind to go on for hours, when I open the door to the Mellark Bakery, the small clock hanging on their wall informs me otherwise.
I sigh as I stand at the counter, eyeing all the treats on display. "Hey ya, Madge!"
I smile as I look up to see the middle Mellark boy emerge from the backroom, wiping his hands clean on his apron.
"Hi, Rye. How have you been?"
He shrugs his shoulders, his trademark bright smile in place. "Can't complain. You?"
I can see in his baby blue eyes that this he's is not asking because it's the polite thing to do. Peeta isn't one to gossip, but he also doesn't keep things from his brothers. Especially when it's about someone close to them.
"I'm fine, "I say with a sincere smile.
Fine, it's a good word to sum up how I am. Not horrible, not great, not falling apart but also not completely together. Just fine.
His smile grows, and he stretches his arms out to me. I could really use one of the Mellark boys' famous bear hugs right about now, and I quickly wrap my arms around his middle, leaning my head against his chest.
We stay like that for a moment, and I feel myself relax before I lean out of the embrace. "So what's new?"
Rye is very easy to talk to, perhaps even more so then Peeta. His anecdote about how Barley mixed up the salt and sugar for a batch of vanilla cookies leaves me in a laughing fit as he demonstrates the customers face when he took a bite. "Can you believe that fool? Working in a bakery all his life, and he puts the salt in instead of the sugar! Who does that?"
When he asks me about my plans for the day I tell him, "I'm going to go to the school to have lunch with Peeta and his friends."
Rye's grin grows. "That's great! They're a good bunch, not too annoying," he enthusiastically exclaims. "Unlike my brother and your best friend."
I laugh at him, knowing fully well that he and Peeta are quite close.
"Well, you better hurry along if you want to make it in time. I mean, I understand why you would want to spend all day basking in my eyes, but I wouldn't want all my other lady friends hearing word about it and causing trouble for you." He winks at me playfully and I laugh, shoving his arm.
"Alright then, I'll take a cheese bun and, um-" I scan the array of baked goods on display, thinking about what treat I could surprise Peeta and his friends with. In my experience I've found it's hard to be mean or rude to someone when you have something sweet in your mouth. "What do you suggest for someone looking to trick friends of a friend into thinking they are not a sociopathic killer that will spaz out and stab them with a spoon?"
Rye puts on a serious business face and replies, "Well, miss, our red velvet cupcakes are known to make people enamored with who gave them the treat. Although since its cake is red as blood and you wish for them to not associate you with as you say a 'sociopath', I would suggest something I bit more mild. Such as our fresh delicious vanilla cookies."
"Oh no you don't!" I exclaim as I shake finger at him. "Don't you dare think I'm dumb enough to take the salt vanilla cookies Barley made."
Rye's serious façade crumbles immediately as he begins laughing and shaking his head."Oh come on, you know that we threw them out."
I'm clearly not convinced and he grins, holding up a finger to motion me to wait there.
He goes to the backroom and comes back out with a tray of unfrosted vanilla cookies. "Look," he says, grabbing one off the tray and taking a big bite out of it. "Delicious as always," he says with a smile.
I inspect his expression for any hint of indiscretion, but finding none I say, "Alright then, I'll take half a dozen."
Rye bags the treats, ringing me out for one cheese bun and seven cookies, since he had to try one to prove their validity. He waves goodbye as I step out the door, a smile on my face as I head to the school.
The school building is old and rather drab looking, much like the curriculum that is taught there. I take more than a few deep breaths before I walk up the steps, feeling quite odd to be doing so in the middle of the day and without my ill-fitting school uniform on. I have perhaps ten minutes before the lunch session begins for the two highest grades; and since Peeta is in the second highest grade I got here right in time.
I take the hallways I know will be mostly empty, but i can still hear some of the lowerclassmen racing to class from their lunch. I drag my feet as I walk ever so slowly to the lunch room.
This was a bad idea. I shouldn't be doing this, at least not the day after my very unsuccessful attempt to return to society. My hands grip the bag of treats tighter as I find myself closer and closer to where I will have to endure all the questioning looks and spiteful glares.
One of the district's newest victors comes to the school for lunch, it'll be all anyone can talk about. My feet stop in their tracks, and I lean against the row of lockers, my head in my hands as I try to force myself not to back out of this.
This is Peeta, your best and admit-ably only friend. He would not have told you to come if he thought his friends would be awful to you.
I begin pacing quickly, muttering things under my breath when I hear the unmistakable sound of teenagers coming out of their classrooms. I stop pacing immediately, backing myself up against the wall, hoping against hope that I am as invisible now as I once was.
Because I was not in one of the main hallways, only a few students pass me on their way to lunch. I keep my head down as I hear them chatter to themselves about nothing of any importance. The group passes me without a second glance, and I lean away from my protective wall, watching as they walk away from me without ever noticing I was here.
"You lost?" I squeal loudly as I nearly jump out of my skin, dropping the bag of cookies onto the floor in the process.
I spin around quickly and am met by a set of green eyes, dimples, and a charming smile full of perfectly straight white teeth. I blink rapidly as the boy continues to smile at me, and I realize that I'm staring at him like a fool.
My eyes quickly dash downwards when I see the white bag of goodies on the floor. Luckily none of them fell out of the bag. I bend down to grab the bag at the exact moment the unknown boy does, and our foreheads bash together in the most painful manner.
A small yelp escapes my lips as I fall back onto my bottom. I wince as I instinctively rub my head with the palm of my hand. The boy is doing the same thing, except he just stumbled back a few steps rather than fall onto his buttocks. However the mark on his head is no doubt matching mine.
He looks down at me for a moment before bending down to offer his hand to help me up. I take it, and he effortlessly pulls me onto my feet.
I open my mouth to say thank you but am struck frozen by his smile which is now back in place as well as his unusual green eyes. Most people in twelve have grey or blue eyes, ranging from light as the sky to as dark as steel. But green eyes? The only other person I know with eyes that shade is Darius.
A grin appears on the boy's face, and he immediately erupts with laughter, a loud kind of booming laugh, the kind of laugh you have when you can't stop even if you wanted. The kind of laugh that hits your side and makes it impossible to breathe.
I blink rapidly as I see this boy I've never met before laugh in my face, and my eyebrows quickly turn downward, my eyes narrow, and my lips purse. I do not need some stranger laughing at me today. I grab the bag off the floor giving the boy a narrowed look before I turn on my heels and stalk away from him.
"Hey, wait," he says, but I completely ignore him.
His hand grabs my elbow to stop me, his grip soft and gentle, and so easy for me to break if I wanted to. Still, I turn back to him, raising an eyebrow at him. "What?"
His smile is still in place, yet it's more subtle than his grin before. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't laughing at you, I just- you got to admit that was humorous."
It was humorous- may have even been downright funny- and any other day I would have probably joined in the laughter, but right now I'm far too nervous and wound up to force a chuckle. Still I have to admit: "It was vaguely humorous."
The green-eyed boy's smile grows, and I'm about to return it when I hear the bell ring. All the doors fly open, gushing student out into the hallway. I bite my lip, forcing myself up against the wall again as students fly past me.
"So," the boy says conversationally, as if he doesn't see me trying to mesh into the wall. "You never did answer my question. You lost?"
Now that dozens of my peers are walking right by me- and quite a substantial amount have noticed me, leaving their mouths agape- my patience for the green eyed boy has run out. "No, I'm not lost. I'm having lunch with a friend here."
"You're choosing to have lunch in the school cafeteria? Why?"
I frown up at him, getting more annoyed by the minute by this boy and his questions. "You writing a book or something?"
"Maybe," he says with an irritatingly charming smile.
This makes me frown even more at him. "Why'd you assume I was lost anyway?"
"I didn't assume, that's why I asked." My glare must give him the sense that I do not like that answer so he promptly says, "You looked lost."
"Well, I'm not. I know exactly where I am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch to get to, preferably before it's over."
The swarm of students has trickled down considerably so I muster up the small amount of courage I have left and heave myself off the wall and down the hall.
"Fantastic." I hear the boy say, appearing by my side as I walk. "I'm heading that direction myself."
I suppress a groan, "I understand that being seen walking the halls with me might get you ten seconds of fame in the rumor mill of this place, but let me advise you that none of the attention you'll receive from associating with me will be good."
"What makes you think I'm pestering you because of that?" His voice sounds incredibly sincere, and I feel my cheeks heat up.
"Well why else would you risk being seen with me?" I ask him, looking up at him from the corner of my eye.
"Simple, when I saw you in the hallway, you looked like you could use some help. You looked lost."
There's a truthful tone to his statement, and I can't help but think he's telling the truth. But, before I can think of a reply, we round a corner and find ourselves back at the school cafeteria.
"Well," I say, turning to face my escort, "thank you for, um, walking with me. I have to find my friend now."
"Right," he says, another smile appearing on his face, "Maybe I'll see you around?"
I nod once to be polite, but as he walks off to get in line for food I can't help but mutter "I highly doubt it."
People are staring at me. They're turned around in their seats, poking their friends' arms and whispering in each other's ears. My grip tightens on the bag in my hand, and I instinctively begin to walk back toward the empty corner table where I sat for years.
But the sight of Katniss Everdeen placing her backpack on the table brings me back to the present, and my feet stop in their tracks. That's not why I'm here; that's not where I belong anymore.
I turn around slowly in a circle, searching for Peeta as my heart begins to pound.
This is the stupidest idea you've ever had; this is even worse than going into the woods.
At least a quarter of the cafeteria is staring at me, and I'm half a second away from running as fast as I can out of here when I see Peeta and two other students placing their things on a table.
I feel my body relax as I quickly stride over there, trying not to panic as I feel so many eyes on me. When I finally reach his table, he and his friends are complaining loudly about a teacher, none of them paying any attention to the Victor standing behind the baker's son.
"I can't believe Mr. Edwards' paper is due so early into the school year. Especially with the wrestling match so-"
I tap my finger against Peeta's shoulder, and he quickly spins his head around, looking down at me. I smile nervously at him, while he just continues to stare at me in surprise, making me feel like a complete and utter fool. But I don't feel like one for very long because his face quickly springs into a huge smile as he exclaims, "Madgie!"
I feel my own smile grow as he leaps up from his seat, nearly knocking his friend over to hug me. I giggle as he leans back, shock still on his face. "I can't believe you came!"
"I wanted to surprise you," I admit with a smile.
He laughs, shaking his head, "Well, I'd call that a successful surprise." He glances towards his two friends who are gaping at me in disbelief. "Uh, here Madge, sit here." He pulls out the empty chair next to him and I quickly sit down, trying not to seem as shy and awkward as I am.
"Madge, this is Emma and Grayson. Guys, this is Madge."
I give them a small smile, but they both still seems flummoxed. They're both clearly merchants: the girl has wheat-colored hair and light blue eyes, and the boy shares the same colored eyes and has hair just a few shades darker than hers.
I've seen them both before- Grayson being Grayson Noren Jr. the blacksmith's son, and Emma being Emma Ambrose, the apothecary's youngest daughter.
Emma seems to recover from her shock first, jutting her hand out in front of her. "It's very nice to meet you, Madge. Peeta has told us all about you."
I shake her hand smiling at her politely.
Perhaps following Emma's model, Grayson quickly sticks out his hand as well. "Nice to finally meet you, Madge."
"Nice to meet you as well," I respond, shaking his hand.
"I feel like I practically know you already," Emma says with a kind smile, "Peeta-"
"Wouldn't shut up about you for weeks!" Grayson interrupts. "The whole Games all we heard was how smart you were, how gosh darn brilliant you were, how you were going to make it out just we watch."
"And when you actually won? Oh, there was no living with him," Emma says, a teasing smile replacing her kind one. "He was going on and on like a proud mother at a kindergarten graduation."
"Well, sorry I had faith in my friend," Peeta responds, rolling his eyes.
"Would you have faith in me?" Grayson asks him.
"Of course he wouldn't!" Emma says. "There's having faith in a friend, and then there's just being ridiculous."
Grayson narrows his eyes and throws a grape at her in retaliation.
I feel a small smile beginning on my lips when Emma looks over at me in interest. "So, Madge, I hear you play the piano. How long have you been playing?"
After telling her I've been playing since I was a very young child, she goes into a quite humorous story about how her mother thought it would be good for her and her little brother to learn to play an instrument. But the only one they could afford was the flute, and her brother was constantly hiding it because he thought it was too girly for him to play.
"Did either of you ever learn?" I ask her.
She shrugs. "We never got past 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."
"Oh, again with the flute story, Em?" I tense as I hear the vaguely familiar voice from behind me. "You've got to get a new funny childhood story because that one's getting old."
I half turn in my seat and instantly regret my decision to do so. Standing directly behind me and Peeta is none other than the mysterious green eyed boy from the hall.
The boy takes the seat next to me, and I instantly scooch over closer to Peeta, eyeing the boy wearily. Honestly what were the odds?
"Madge,"Peeta says, smiling as if he doesn't detect my discomfort, "This is Jude. Jude, Madge."
The boy, Jude, smiles at me sticking his hand out to me. "Good to see you again."
"Likewise,"I say coldly, shaking his hand once before dropping it quickly.
"You know each other?" Peeta asks with a confused look on his face.
"We had a brief run-in in the hall," I say, trying to ignore the blush that is spreading over my face. No wonder he didn't leave me alone; he's friends with Peeta. He not only knew why I was here but that he would have to sit through an entire lunch with me.
Jude winks at me as he says, "A literal run-in actually."
He rubs the red spot on his forehead from where we bonked heads together, and I feel a small smile begin to appear on my face.
"Well, if you hadn't startled me I wouldn't have dropped my bag."
He grins at me, poking the white bag on the table. "Well, you wouldn't have been startled if you were paying better attention."
My smile widens as I prepare my counter argument when I feel Peeta's body freeze beside me.
I look over at my friend and find that his head is turned to the back corner of the cafeteria. It only takes a glance in that general direction to find why he's staring. Because Katniss is staring at him. And she's not even trying to hide it.
She's too far away to really read her expression, but, even from here, I can see her confusion. Peeta's eyes are locked with hers, and it takes every ounce of willpower for me not to slap him out of it. Or more acutely, to get up and slap her. For no reason other than hurting my friend. Because what she is doing right now is wrong, looking at him, staring at him.
This will only put ideas in his head, ideas that do not need to be there. Because I know how much hope can hurt, I know what it feels like to lay awake at night, analyzing every little glance in direction. It's painful and awful, and she needs to stop doing that to him. If she truly wants to cut him out of her life, she needs to stop looking at him, she needs to stop causing him more pain. He deserves at least that much.
Her eyes suddenly glance over to me, and her eyes narrow as she scowls at me. I have to hold myself back from laughing. What's her problem with me now? Is it illegal to sit next to the boy she strung along for weeks?
In one quick motion she turns her head away from us, stuffing her things into her bag and stalking out of the cafeteria. I'm surprised for a moment; surely she didn't get up just because she saw my hostile thoughts in my expression?
But, as I turn myself back around in my seat, I find that I'm not the only one affected by Katniss and Peeta's exchange. Emma and Grayson are not even pretending to hold back their distaste, and Jude, he looks nearly as upset as I feel.
Peeta's eyes follow Katniss until she's out of eyesight, and, when she is gone, he slumps down into his seat, visibly drained. I open my mouth to try to give him words I know won't comfort him when I'm cut off by Jude.
"She's a moron," he says heatedly, "And before you say something self-deprecating about how you're the moron or something of the sort, let me just remind you that I was in math class with her last year. And she's a moron."
A small flinch courses through my body at Jude's pointed words. Hearing people talk behind someone's back has always been hard for me to tolerate. She's not your friend anymore, I scold myself, and you can't deny the validity of his statement. Peeta's quite self-deprecating, and, emotions aside, Katniss is horrible in math.
"And you deserve a girl who smiles once in a while, "Grayson tells him, bringing me out of my thoughts. "She always looks like she has something sour in her mouth."
"It's not her fault-" Peeta begins, but Jude cuts him off.
"Oh please, that girl can find a reason to frown about anything. Hard to believe she's related to this one here," he says, throwing an apple core at Emma.
Emma rolls her eyes at his antics, flicking the apple core back to him. "Second cousins. That doesn't even count."
I'm shocked for a second as I slowly connect the dots.
Emma must sense my confusion because she quickly clarifies. "My father is half-brothers with Katniss' grandfather, making him her mother's half uncle and making Katniss my second cousin. Or half second cousin. My father says he was never very close to his half-brother though they had the same father, but different mother. Katniss'grandfather being from his first wife and my father from his second marriage after his first wife died. There was a substantial age gap as well; my father is only five years older than Katniss' mother."
Still, even them being very distantly related, I find some similarities in their faces. They have the same shaped eyes, although in completely different colors. They have similar bone structures, as well as being relatively the same height. Other than that, she looks as much like Katniss as I do.
"The apothecary got handed down to my father after Katniss' grandfather died," she continued, tearing the crust off her sandwich as she talks. "Rumor is that Mrs. Everdeen didn't take to kindly to that, but since she was already married and living in the Seam there wasn't much she could do."
"Thank you for that lovely family history Emma," Grayson says sarcastically. "I so love hearing the stories of Katniss Everdeen's family tree."
Emma's eyes narrow as she throws a piece of crust at him "I was just explaining how it's not at all my fault that I'm related to a crazed, unemotional girl."
"You think that's being related to someone crazy?!" Grayson says dramatically. "Have you met my grandmother? She's full blown psychotic. She's convinced we have trolls in the basement, no matter how many times we tell her it's just rats."
"Oh yes, because having rats is far better than trolls?" Jude says, shaking his head at him. "And that's nothing. You and I both know if we go into who has the worst family tree it's me."
The table goes quiet for a moment, and I can't help but wonder who exactly he's related to that could make everyone else's arguments die in their throats.
"Maybe you win on that," Grayson says. "But we all know who has the stupidest relatives."
He then goes into a full description of how his mother constantly switches him and his brother's birthdays up when Peeta jumps in with how Barley had switched up the salt with the sugar.
"Rye told me about that this morning," I tell him, "I even made him take a bite of the vanilla cookies I bought to make sure he didn't try to trick me into anything."
Emma sighs, resting her head on her hand. "We never get anything vanilla at my house; my mother is fiercely allergic."
I smile slyly. "Well then today is your lucky day."
I open the bag and reveal the cookies inside, and Emma grins widely.
"Oh, thank you, Madge!"
Grayson reaches into the bag, grabbing two cookies for him and Emma. "You should bring her around more often, Peeta! Anyone who brings sweets is alright in my book."
Jude laughs, taking a cookie for himself as well. "Anyone who brings you any food is alright in your book."
I take out the last two cookies, handing one to Peeta. He takes it, inspecting it closely. Grayson moves to take a bite out of the cookie, but Peeta unexpectedly yells out , "Wait!"
Grayson frowns at his friend from across the table, clearly displeased about being stopped from eating his treat. "What?"
Peeta turns to me, one eyebrow raised. "Rye sold you these?"
"Yeah, but I told you, I made him take a bite out of one. They aren't the salt cookies Barley made."
"They certainly smell delicious," Emma says, inhaling deeply.
"They look fine," Jude agrees, sniffing it as well. "They don't even smell salty, just vanilla."
Peeta continues to inspect his cookie before he nods once. "You're right, they're probably fine."
We all shove the cookies in our mouths, expecting the sweet, delectable taste of a mixture of butter, sugar and vanilla all rolled up into one cookie. Instead, we are bombarded with one taste and one taste only. Pure unadulterated salt.
It must be hilarious sight as we all spew them out of our mouths: Emma guzzling down her water bottle and Grayson scrapping his tongue with his fingertips. I grab a napkin from the table, not bothering to check if it was clean, trying to wipe the taste of my tongue much like Grayson is trying to do.
Peeta recovers first, his breathing labored as he says the one thing that's on all our minds. "I hate my brother."
Our antics quickly cease with the ringing of the bell, signaling lunch is over and that students have ten minutes to get to class. By habit, I start to hurry to my feet, looking for my books and my bag only to have to remind myself that I'm no longer a student here.
Peeta gives me a quick hug goodbye, promising to see me later. Emma and Grayson both shake my hand warmly, telling me that it was nice to meet me and I should definitely come have lunch again.
"As long as we don't get any more salt bombs," Grayson says teasingly before walking off with Peeta and Emma.
I smile to myself as I wave goodbye to Peeta. Grayson and Emma wave as well before he slings his arms around her shoulders, and she wraps her arm around his waist as they head to class. I'm surprised at the affectionate embrace; I had no idea they were a couple.
"You wouldn't think they were together, would you?"
Jude smiles at me, his unusual green eyes causing a shiver run down my spine.
"No," I reply, "they don't seem very romantic towards each other."
He shrugs, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, "That's just their way I guess. They've been friends for a long time, so it's hard to get over the friendly banter and teasing once they started seeing each other. I kind of like it though. It's not as cheesy and suffocating as other couples."
He turns to me with a smile, displaying his dimples. "Well, it was really nice meeting you, Madge."
He sticks his hand out, and I am quick to jut my hand out as well, unable to help myself from noticing how soft and warm his hand is in mine. How well they fit together.
His smile grows slightly shy, and his face looks instantly more boyish as his hand stays in mine a moment too long. "You're not at all what I thought you'd be."
I give him a quizzical look, about to voice my confusion when he quickly says, "I better get to class. See you soon?"
I nod my head, smiling as him as he quickly dashes out of the cafeteria. I, however take my time as I leave the lunchroom, taking the same back halls I did to get in the school.
A small smile creeps onto my lips as I think about the last half hour. It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. Peeta's friends were quite nice and pleasant to be around.
Maybe I will come back, maybe I'll make it a weekly thing. Not daily though; I wouldn't want them to get tired of me.
I'm lost in my thoughts as I step down the stairs of the school, beginning the trek home, when I hear a familiar voice call out, "Hold it right there, Miss Undersee! I have a few questions to ask you."
Ok so i know its a bit of a filler, but hey atleast its a chapter! And next chapter is all ready writtedn and ready to go, so i will be posting that tommorow :D and i know that you guys are probably mad at me but please REVIEW! Kisses from Gale/Peeta/Grayson/Emma/Jude/Madge lol