Pane and I sit on the couch together for another hour, him writing something, and me sketching. I got Dads artistic ability, and even though I can paint images almost as well as he can, my passion is really designing clothing. It seems girly for a girl who can hunt, but once when I was younger, I found a picture of Mom and Dad when they were young. Mom was wearing and elegant dress that looked like she was engulfed in flames, while Dad wore a black suit accented with red. Ever since I saw that, I've been sketching dresses and other clothing. Twice I even bought fabric to make a model of what it would look like. Currently, I'm working on a pink gown, with a sheer fabric of soft reds, yellows, and oranges over the pink skirt.
Pane can't draw like me, but I've always been jealous he got grandfathers voice. He discovered he could sing and that he really liked it early on in music class. Not that I'm a bad singer, I'm okay. I used to be pretty into it until I was like, 5, then I started drawing and only sang on special occasions.
Suddenly, we both stop what we're doing and look at each other when we hear a door open and close. When we see Mom and Dad come into the room, we both stand, and Pane immediately flings himself at Mom.
"Mommy!" he shouts, running into her arms, showing how young he really is. She drops her bags and hugs him back, kneeling down to his level. I walk over to where Dad is standing, taking his hand. He squeezes it slightly, not letting go. I realize that our family is awfully mushy.
"Mommy! What happened! No one is telling me anything!" Pane speaks again, pulling out of the hug.
"It will be fine sweetheart," Mom tells him, still on her knee. "Where's Haymitch?" she asks him, moving blonde hair out of his eyes. Me and Dad are still silent, but I look and see he's wondering the same thing.
Pane crosses his arms stubbornly. "Went to take a nap. Guess all the yelling really tired him out." He says angrily.
Dad suddenly lets go of my hand and steps forward. "He yelled at you?" he asks Pane defensively. I know Dad has had bad experiences with his mother as a child, and the last thing he wants is for his own child to be bullied. Mom stands and looks at him now, as he starts making his way toward the staircase.
"Dad, wait!" I catch his arm. I couldn't let him waste anymore time where we could be finding out what's happening. "I stopped him when I got here. I told him what happened and he said it didn't matter. It's no use. Just please. Tell us what's going on." I say pleadingly. I can feel tears sting the back of my eyes. Why are they keeping us in the dark about everything?
"Peeta." Mom says. "They'll find out anyway. There's no choice." She says, even though I can tell she'd rather not tell us. It's unusual for her to decide, since Dad usually convinces her to do things. I look back to Dad, and Pane runs up to him now, his big grey eyes looking sad and confused. Dad could never deny Pane, especially when he's looking at him with that expression in his eyes. He closes his eyes and sighs, accepting defeat.
"Let's go home. I'll make dinner and we'll talk later. I promise." he says, leading Pane forward with his hand. Mom and I follow closely behind.
When we get home, I rush to Dad's art studio, uncovering a blank easel, and I paint like crazy, all the events that happened today. I vaguely remember Pane and Dad starting dinner, while Mom went to wash off.
I'm startled about an hour later by Moms voice behind me. I didn't even know she had come into the room.
"Dinner is ready, Ivy." She says. I drop my paintbrush, cover my painting of Gale in the woods, and turn to look at her, a still upset about before. I can't sit and eat like everything's okay for another hour, I need to ask her at least one question. I finally work up the courage to ask.
"Who's Gale Hawthorne?" I ask abruptly. She looks shocked, like she wasn't expecting me to know the name. Then, she seems to realize how I must know.
"Haymitch told you." she says it more like a statement, not a question. I nod, but she still didn't answer my question.
"Was he like, an enemy? Should we be afraid? Pane is really confused, and so am I." I say.
She sighs, and speaks. "No, not an enemy. A friend actually. The only way he might have been an enemy was to Peeta, and I know he never saw him that way. I don't know if he's safe now, though. As for your brother..." she took a deep breath. "He has a lot to take in the next couple of days." She pauses, trying to think of anything to add. "I'm sorry. I-can't. I'll tell you more after dinner. Now, come on, your fathers waiting." With that, she waits for me to get up and follow her to the kitchen.
I got some answers. He could he have been Dad's enemy, but he didn't seem him that way? What does that mean? How can an enemy be a friend at the same time? As far as Pane goes, I hope they let it on lightly. He shouldn't have to learn about this at such a young age. I hope Gale knows how much trouble he's causing for our family.
I'll get answers after dinner. I'll learn about what my parents haven't told me after dinner. It seems like everything is going to happen after dinner, and today, dinner can't go by any slower.