When I wake up, it is early morning, and the sun hasn't even begun to rise. I'm thoroughly confused as to where I am, but I barely get the chance to think about what happened last night before the white liquor makes its reappearance. I spew over the edge of the bed and it burns just as much coming up as it did going down, and tastes twice as bad. I groan as I roll back over onto the bed, and realize that I am trembling, sweaty, and naked, but at least most of the stuff is out of my system. Though, enough of it got into my bloodstream to result in a pounding headache, parched mouth, and boiling stomach. Wait. Naked? Why am I naked…?
As I take inventory of my surroundings, I see Peeta is lying next to me, sound asleep. Well, he looks it, but his breathing tells another story. He is covered in a sheet, (blanket hog), and I hope to god he's wearing something under it. What did I do last night? I think. My sore muscles tell me what I hope to be just a bad dream. I slept with him. Peeta and I-… I shudder at the thought, and sit up just in time for another vomiting spell to hit, and I just barely miss ruining his soft white sheets with bile.
Peeta stirs, and when I come back up over the edge of the bed once again, I see that he has turned over, and is looking at me. Before I can think, I grope around by my feet and grab the sheet to pull it up to my chin. Crap, crap, crap! What have I done?
I don't know what to say to him, and it looks as though he is at a loss for words as well. "Peeta?" I say cautiously. "What happened last night? I don't remember much…" He gently strokes my cheek with his thumb, and smiles.
"What do you want to know? The good or the bad?" He asks.
"Peeta… We didn't, uh, you know… Last night, did we?"
He looks taken aback. Like he cant decide whether to tell me the truth, or a lie. "Well, there was a lot of drinking on your part. But that was before you ended up on my doorstep. And then, well. There was a lot of kissing, and that was mostly me, but you went along with it, seemed to enjoy yourself, even."
"Anything else…?" I whisper.
"Not really, no. I mean, you were covered in vomit and sweat, so I helped you out of your clothes, but nothing more happened."
"Don't lie to me Peeta… Something else must have happened, or else why would I be so sore?"
"That'd be the liquor. Had two bottles all by yourself. I'm surprised you haven't vomited more." He answered.
Peeta always did have a way with words, and even if he is lying to me, I'll never know. "Okay," I sigh, and make to grab the rest of the sheet to wrap around myself so I can go to the bathroom.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"I have to pee…"
"Oh, right… Uhh," he looks around, and comes up short.
"Your not naked too, are you?" The words spill out before I've had time to process them.
"No! Of course not," he stammers. "Just close your eyes for a minute."
I'm thoroughly confused, but I don't question his motives. I close my eyes, and I hear him rise from the bed, and pad across the room. After what seems like forever, he says "Okay. You can open your eyes now," so I do, and he is standing across the room from me, wearing a fresh pair of boxer shorts.
"You were naked!" I exclaim. "I told you not to lie to me Peeta!"
"I didn't lie. You threw up on me halfway through the night, and instead of disturbing your peaceful sleep to get new shorts, I just slipped the soiled ones off. Nothing happened, Katniss. Don't you believe me?"
Instead of arguing the point with him, I just sigh, and he knows he's won. Now all I have to worry about is showering, and finding something to wear. "I'm gross, Peeta. I need a shower. Can I just do that here?"
"Yea, of course. I go make you some breakfast."
"I need something to wear…" I say.
"Easy enough. While you shower, I'll just run over to your house and grab something."
"Alright" I say, getting up, making sure to secure the thin sheet around my nude body, hoping against hope that he wont see me.
I turn on the shower and stand under the warm rain. I pour shampoo on my head, and when I start scrubbing, I notice the stinging in my hands. Stitches, small and even, across one palm and up the side of my other hand. My mother's work for sure. I scrub myself from head to toe with the sweet smelling bubbles, and have to force myself to leave the comfort of the warm water.
I go back to Peeta's room, where I see he has laid out my clothes, which seem to be some of Cinna's beautifully uncomfortable creations. I quickly dress, and realize that fast movements probably wont be the best thing for me today. After I've dressed, I meander down the stairs, toward the smell of the bread, baking in the oven. "Mm. Cheese buns, my favorite." I say, smiling at the scent.
"I know, and I have plenty. Though, I'm not really sure what I can do to help your hangover."
"Oh shut-up. It'll never happen again. Last night was the worst night of my life, and I'll never do anything of the sort again. If I try, please bring me to my senses?"
His gaze drops to the floor, trying to hide his pain from me, though I cant quite figure out why he'd be so upset over my saying I'd never pick up another drink…
Peeta wraps up my cheese buns, and sends me on my way. Clearly I've upset him, but I still cant see how. I give him a quick hug, and a peck on the cheek before walking home. I slowly cross the three yards that separate Peeta's home from my own, and walk inside. No one seems to be awake yet, so I go straight upstairs to my room, and change into some more comfortable clothes.
The footsteps on the stairs renew my panic from last night, and I realize that I am not quite ready to see my mother and Prim. I know that I have to be strong for them, so I straighten up and brace myself for this meeting. They appear in my doorway, holding tea and toast, both their faces full of concern. I open my mouth, hoping to start out with some corny joke, but instead I burst into tears. So much for being the strong one.
My mother sits on the side of my bed, and Prim crawls right up next to me. They both hold me, making soothing sounds trying to calm me, until I am mostly cried out. Then Prim gets a towel and dries my still damp hair, and begins to comb the snarls while my mother tries to coax some tea and toast into me. The tears begin to fall again, and I just lay there, listening to Prim tell me it will all be okay. She isn't the same frail little girl I left behind on reaping day nine months ago, everything she had had to deal with since then have aged her many years. I drift into a somewhat peaceful sleep, and when I wake, I can tell it is late afternoon.
I head downstairs to the kitchen, where I head my mother and Prim talking in hushed voices, and when I walk in, they silently embrace me, but they don't act overly emotional; I know they are holding things together to make things better for me. My mother ladles me a mug of broth, and I ask for one to take over to Haymitch.
When I walk into his house, I see him slumped over the kitchen counter, only just waking up. I offer him the warm broth, and he takes it without hesitation. We sit peacefully for a few minutes, sipping from our mugs, and then I hear someone rustling around upstairs. Must be Hazelle, I think. A few minutes later, however, Peeta descends the stairs carrying a large box. He says he has poured all of Haymitch's liquor down the drain. We argue for a bit, and I realize that I really don't care. I am going back into the games, regardless of whether Haymitch has his spirits or not.
Peeta is insistent that we start acting like Careers. Haymitch and I protest, but after a few days, we give in, tired of listening to Peeta's endless rants about two of us certainly coming home.
Every morning we are out running, throwing knives, climbing trees, and learning combat skills. My mother even puts us on a special diet to gain weight. At first, Peeta and I excel with the new regimen, but after a few weeks, it begins to take its toll on me, and I cant understand why. I've always been fit, and even when I was sick, I never felt as horrid as I do now. Everything is making me nauseas, and I throw up frequently. I insist I'm just nervous about going back in, but I fool no one, (except maybe Peeta.) Haymitch knows something is up.
Its hot and humid one afternoon when we break for lunch. It's been two months since the announcement of the Quell, and I've only gotten worse, and then I get to thinking. Overly sore muscles, vomiting fits, picky eating habits… I start counting. Oh god, no. I think. It can't be.
"Katniss? You okay?" Peeta asks, bringing me out of my stupor.
"Oh, uh." I fumble for words. "Yeah, I just remembered that I promised Prim I would spend some time with her today." I lied. The looks I get from Peeta and Haymitch tell me I've failed, but I don't care. "I have to go." I pull myself from the ground and jog home without a second glance.
Who do I talk to about this? My mother? No. Surely she would kill me if I even had a sneaking suspicion of pregnancy. Prim? Eh, maybe. I'm not sure she could really give me much advice. Haymitch is out. Peeta is definitely out. Crap. Crap, crap, crap!
I am completely worn out from the jog home, and I barely make it up the porch stairs. I enter the house and hold a stitch in my side, while I head for the phone in the study. I dial the familiar number, and only hope he will answer.
"Hello?" he says, after only the second ring.
"Cinna! I need to talk to you. Its an emergency. How soon can you come to Twelve?"
"Whoa, Katniss. Slow down. What's the problem?"
"I cant say. Not over the phone anyways. Its something that I need to talk to you about in person. Can you please come?"
"Of course. Anything for you, girl on fire. I'll call you when I find a train going that way." Cinna says.
"Thank you, Cinna. I knew I could count on you. See you soon." I say, and hang up the phone.
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