Chapter Three
My head is throbbing, each beat feeling like a fresh blow to my skull. Thump. Thump. Thump. When my eyelids flicker open, I'm blinded by a white flare of light. I groan in pain and lift my hands to my eyes, rubbing them fiercely with the heels. "Wha . . ." I mutter. Thankfully, the blurriness in my eyes clears as I prop myself up on my elbows and look around.
Jesus, is this a hospital room?
My mother gasps in relief and I jump in surprise. My mother's here? "Mom?" I ask in confusion.
"Oh Katniss," Mom says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it desperately. "Thank God you're okay."
"Mom, what's wrong?" I frown. "Of course I'm okay. What happened? Why am I here?" I try to pull the covers of my bed back and get up but Mom stops me. "Mom, you're freaking me out. What's going on? Where are we?"
"You're in District 13 hospital," Mom gently says. "You've been here all night."
All night? Then it rushes back to me. The painkillers, the water, the pain in my ankle, the slip. "Did I break something?" I ask, lifting my arms. I wouldn't be surprised if I did hurt myself, the fall was pretty hard. "Or a sprain or something?" I lift the covers and my heart skips a beat at the sight of a huge cast swallowing up my entire leg.
"Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," Mom insists.
"No, it's not!" I exclaim.
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not!" I look at my Mom in blind panic. "I can't cheer with a broken leg! How long is it going to take to heal? Will I be able to cheer at the homecoming game?"
Mom shakes her head. In fact, she looks a little confused. "I don't think so, sweetie."
Oh my god. This isn't happening. My world is crashing down around me. If I can't cheer, what am I supposed to do? Cheering is my life! If I can't do that, there's nothing else worth doing. I groan and fall onto my back again on the bed. "This isn't happening. I'm going to wake up and this will all be over. It has to be a dream. A horrible nightmare or something. My life is over!"
"No, it is not," Mom says firmly. I lift my head and frown at her. She sounds so determined. She's never been all that worried about my cheerleading. In fact, I know she'd prefer that I didn't do it. That I focused more on my studies or whatever. If anything like this actually happened, I would have thought that she'd have been overjoyed.
"What is up with you?" I demand to know. Mom looks uncomfortable. "Mom?"
"Dr. Aurelius wants to talk about you," Mom blurts out.
My frown deepens. "Who?"
Mom touches my hand again and I look at our joined hands, completely perplexed. "He's a psychiatrist," she explains.
"Why does a psychiatrist want to see me?" I ask.
The door to the room opens and a man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck steps in. "Hello Mrs. Everdeen," he said. "Katniss."
"I don't understand what the hell is going on," I say.
"Dr. Aurelius," he introduces. He approaches my mom and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Would it be okay if I spoke to Katniss privately?"
My mom nods and, with one last look towards me, she gets up and leaves. Dr. Aurelius takes her spot by my bedside and smiles this weird, overly bright grin at me. "So, Dr. Aurelius," I say, dragging his name out, "what the hell is happening? Why is my mom acting weird?"
"Katniss," says Dr. Aurelius, "how have you been feeling lately?"
"Okay," I reply cautiously. "Why?"
"Has anything made you feel . . . sad or upset?" Dr. Aurelius continues.
"Er . . . no."
Dr. Aurelius nods but he doesn't seem convinced. What right does he have not to believe what I'm telling him? Why is he asking me this anyway? I broke my leg. Why does that entail questions about my feelings and whether I've been upset recently? "I still don't understand what's going on," I insist.
"Katniss, how long have you been taking painkillers?" Dr. Aurelius asks.
What? "Since I sprained my ankle the day before yesterday at cheerleading," I answer. "Please tell me what the heck is going on! Why are you asking me these weird questions? I don't get it!"
"We're just trying to get to the bottom of why you tried to commit suicide, Katniss," says Dr. Aurelius, his voice incredibly soft and careful.
I stare at him dumbly for what had to be at least a minute and half. "Suicide?" I repeat slowly. "I didn't try to commit suicide!"
"According to your mother, you've been failing math, has the pressure of school felt like it's been piling up on top of you?" Dr. Aurelius continues regardless of my denial. Is he mad? I didn't try to kill myself! I don't have a reason to! My life is perfect! Up until now, that is. When I'm too stunned to answer his question, he continues, "Has the fear of failing caused you to snap?"
"I didn't snap," I protest. "I don't even care about math!"
"Katniss, things would be a lot easier if you just co-operated," says Dr. Aurelius. "You were found lying on your bathroom floor covered in painkillers with the water overflowing around of the sink. We just want to help you, I want to help you. But for any helping to be had, you have to be willing to work with me."
"I shouldn't have to!" I exclaim. "I didn't try to kill myself! I was taking a painkiller-you hear that doctor? One!-maybe another one a few hours later if the pain persisted! But my ankle spazed out and I slipped, probably bringing the whole bottle of pills down with me! It was an accident, I didn't try to kill myself, that's absurd!"
Dr. Aurelius is patient. I hate that he's patient. I want him to get angry, as angry as I am right now so maybe he understands what it's like to be thoroughly pissed off. Maybe I should accuse him of something he hasn't done. Like cheating on his wife. I squint at him in curiosity and lean back into the pillows on the bed. Or husband?
"Why was the water running, Katniss?" he asks.
"I like the sound of running water," I reply.
"Why was the plug in the drain if it was only to do with the sound?"
"I don't know, the plug is on this really long, annoying chain, it probably fell in when I didn't notice," I answer.
Dr. Aurelius nods. He writes something down in his pad. What's he writing? What he could possibly have got from that? I try to peer over to read it but he pulls it up so I'm left staring at the bland brown book cover. "Katniss, I'm going to put you on some medication for depression"-
"Depression?! I'm not depressed!" I shout. Depression is something those weirdo Goths and Emos who sit in Loser's End have, not me! What, am I expected to be constantly gloomy now and walk around wearing a black veil? As if!
"It's a mild form of medication, just to stabilise your emotions. I also want to meet with you once every week, so I can gauge your progress," Dr. Aurelius explains. "We'll get to the bottom of this, whether it takes the rest of the year or the rest of your teenage life." He stands up and smiles. "You seem like a bright girl, Katniss. We're just trying to help you."
Help me? Helping me would be inventing a miracle drug that can cure my broken leg before the homecoming game! I have spent my entire life dreaming about cheering at the homecoming game and, later, the final game of the season. Now it's all ruined! I wonder if Gale will still be interested in me now that I've got this ugly cast on my leg. Surely he would be? I'm just going to have to make myself look prettier to make up for it.
"Whatever," I mutter, folding my arms. I'm already over all this drama.
I don't go into school for a whole week. I spend the entire seven days of rest at home, spitting out pills when my mother leaves the room and watching annoying rom-coms with my sister. Thankfully, when I supposedly attempted 'suicide' Prim had been at a friend's house and didn't witness any of the drama that ensued when my mother found me. My sister is the only thing besides cheering that I deeply care about. Even though she is in her final year of Middle School, I refuse to acknowledge the idea that my baby sister is growing up. I still feel the urge to protect her, to shield her from the nasty like sex, drugs, alcohol and violence. All the things that I experienced when I entered High School. It's not that I don't trust Prim to be sensible and make responsible decisions, I just feel like her eyes are still too innocent to be dirtied by such horrid things.
As far as Prim knows, I slipped in the bathroom and broke my leg. My mother says it's for the best, which caused me to point out that that is what happened. However, all I got in response was a tut and a sad expression. God, is it so hard to believe that I'm not depressed and I didn't try to kill myself?
I'm almost glad when mum allows me to go back to school. Albeit I hadn't showered in a week and had to spend the entire night before scrubbing my skin raw with a black bin bag around my cast, but it was worth it to have a shot at going back to school. Maybe my life will go back to normal once I do.
As soon as I hobble into school, however, I know this will not be the cause.
Every eye turns to me, like I'm wearing yellow khakis with purple polka dots and a huge red afro wig. They stare at me like I'm an anomaly, something they almost can't believe is standing here in person. It's then that I know that it has gotten around about my 'suicide attempt'.
Absolutely fantastic (!)
The hospital administered crutches are difficult to navigate. I practically hop up the corridor to my locker, thankful that years of cheer practice has strengthened the muscles in my thighs and calves. I prop my crutches against the locker beside mine and lean most of my weight onto my left hand while I use the right to unlock my locker. My combination is my sister's birthday; my own birthday and-just to throw people off-the date I found the goat dying on the side of the road and brought it home for Prim as a birthday present. Mom was able to heal it and it became a house pet called Lady.
Prim makes great cheese from Lady's milk.
While I'm pulling my books out of my locker and stuffing them into my backpack, a ball of black hair and pale skin floats into my peripheral vision. I turn my head to look at Clove, who has appeared by my side and is staring at me with huge, wide eyes as if I'm going to melt in front of her any second or disappear like an apparition.
"Can I help you?" I enquire.
"Is it true?" Clove immediately asks.
"I don't know, is what true?" I say, just to be difficult.
"Did you try to kill yourself?" I'm glad Clove isn't going to behave the way my mother has been behaving for the past week. I don't want to have to deal with my best friend pussy footing around me.
I sigh. "No, I didn't. It's all a huge misunderstanding." I slam my locker shut and lean my back against it to give my good leg a break.
Clove squints at me. "Are you being sarcastic?"
"What? No!"
Clove rolls her eyes and I'm irritated that she doesn't believe me. Why won't anyone take my word for it? I've never lied about anything in my life! Okay, well, that's a lie but surely they should know that I'm not lying about this! "Coach Trinket has assumed that you will be out of action for the homecoming game," she says.
I groan and cover my eyes with my hands. "Don't remind me!"
"Glimmer has been promoted to head cheerleader while you're . . ." Clove trails off and glances at my leg, "incapacitated."
"Glimmer? Since when has she been head cheerleader material?!" I exclaim, removing my hands from my eyes and glaring at Clove. I feel betrayed. I bet Glimmer jumped at the chance to become head cheerleader, the bleach blonde tramp!
"Since you attempted suicide," Clove shrugged.
"I didn't attempt suicide!" I shout. People stop in the corridor and glance at me like I'm a bomb about to go off. I lower my voice a little. "I slipped in my bathroom while taking painkillers for my ankle. Remember? I sprained it? I was walking like the hunchback and everything?"
"Don't shoot the messenger," Clove said, holding her hands up in a defensive stance. "I told Glimmer that you wouldn't be happy but she wouldn't listen."
"I always knew she was only friends with me so she'd move up the ranks," I mutter to myself. The bell rings and I sling my backpack on before grabbing my crutches and hopping along beside Clove.
"There's something else, too," says Clove as we enter the Science room.
"What?" I ask suspiciously.
"Gale asked Glimmer to Cashmere's party."
"What?!" I yell, not caring who hears. "He asked me to Cashmere's party!"
Clove nods slowly as she sits at her desk. I plop into mine beside her, relieved to give my leg a break. "Yeah, he did. And you told him you were being stalked by Fatboy Mellark, hence why he now has a black eye and gets his money taken off him every morning before school starts by Gale's crew. It's become so common that they don't even have to force it out of him anymore, he just sort of hands it over like a toll."
I almost feel guilty for what Gale's crew are doing to Mellark. Almost.
"And because you tried to"-I give Clove a sharp look and she sighs-"relieve the pain in your leg, he thought you wouldn't be back for the party. So he asked Glimmer and she said yes."
I slam my books onto my desk, satisfied by the loud thwack! they make. "That bitch," I say. "I can't believe she'd be so quick to stab me in the back."
"Anyone would do anything to stay at the top of the food chain," Clove says quietly, propping her chin on her hand as Mr. Crane comes in, lab coat billowing behind him like a cape, and starts what looks like a monotonous lesson on Hard and Soft Water.
Throughout first and second period, all I can do is ponder Glimmer's betrayal. Why would Gale ask her out anyway when he's never shown an interest in her before? I don't think they've ever even spoken to each other up until now. Gale has always been interested in me that was the point. He didn't care about Clove or Glimmer, it was always me he stopped in the corridor to talk to; it was always me he smiled at; it was always me he went to when Madge wasn't around.
At the end of second period, when I'm shoving my books into my backpack, a light bulb goes off in my head and I'm struck down my absolute genius.
"He's making me jealous," I declare at break.
Clove pauses mid-bite. "What?" she mumbles over her apple.
It's a nice enough day so we're sitting outside. I have my leg propped up on the double bench so (A) my leg gets enough rest and (B) Glimmer can't join us. Although, I haven't seen Glimmer all day. I don't know where she is. Clove, who sits across the table from me on the single bench against the wall, is only vaguely interested in what I have to say.
"Can't you see?" I insist. "I disappear for a week so Gale gets worried and asks Glimmer out on impulse. When she says yes, he realizes he can use this to his advantage and make me jealous. It's the only logical explanation."
"The only logical explanation?" Clove asks, raising her eyebrow. She digs her teeth into the apple and chews thoughtfully. "Have you not maybe considered that he actually likes Glimmer? Genuinely?"
I scoff. "Glimmer has about as much appeal as cold sick," I say.
Clove stops chewing. "Thanks for that image, I really needed it," she says sarcastically. She pauses and glances over my shoulder, her face unreadable. I turn to see what she's looking at and my face immediately melts into a scowl.
Across the yard, at the football team's table, Glimmer is sat on Gale's lap, laughing and throwing grapes into his mouth. His hand is holding her hip while the other one rests dangerously close to her ass. Typical. I bet he's glad that the girl who he's using as an envy tool won tits of the year in Junior year. It wasn't anything official, just a stupid game the Junior boys did at the end of the year. Clove won rear of the year and I got best figure overall. I still remember the look of faux pleasure on Glimmer's face when she found that one out.
Gale glances at me and our eyes lock. Glimmer prods his mouth with another grape and he takes it, chewing it slowly while still holding my gaze. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he smirks. It's then I know that I'm right. The bastard is trying to make me jealous. Well, you know what? Two can play at that game!
"What's Marvel doing now-a-days?" I ask Clove once I've turned back around.
"Gropey Marvel?" Clove asks incredulously.
"Yeah, him."
"I don't know. I haven't heard much about him since you two broke up."
Marvel was my first ever boyfriend. We dated for a couple of semesters in Freshman year. Clove's nickname for him is derived from the fact that he was extremely handsy. It's annoying for me to admit that he has my virginity under his belt and I extremely wish I had held out for my next boyfriend-Finnick Odair-who had been a total babe and still is.
"Are you sure you want to go through having your boobs squashed in those huge palms again?" Clove frowns.
I wince at the idea. "Probably not," I say. I blow a thoughtful raspberry. "What about Cato? Is he still gay?"
Clove snorts. "Last I heard, yeah."
"Damn."
The story of Cato's coming out is an interesting one. I suppose it eradicates all homophobic stereotypes that people who are gay are pansies or feminine or that it's obvious to know that they are gay because you'll just instantly be able to tell. Cato is the inside linebacker for the football team and nobody suspected a thing concerning his sexuality. Everyone just figured he was focusing on his game more than dating and stuff. But when in Sophomore year he and a foreign exchange student-who I admit, was pretty hot-were caught making out in the janitor's closet at lunchtime, Cato decided to confirm everyone's suspicions by completing an art project that consisted of a huge, wall size poster of Elton John with a rainbow coloured background. It certainly shut the haters up, anyhow.
No one would dare bully Cato about it because they know he's capable of crushing anyone into the ground.
"I'll just give Marvel a call, then," I mutter.
"You don't have to," Clove reminds me. "You don't have to stoop to Gale's level."
"I'm not going to let him have the last word. If he wants to make me jealous, then I'm going to make him jealous first," I declare, fishing my phone out of my pocket and sending Marvel a text asking if he had a date for Cashmere's party.
Clove rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything more on the subject. "You still have to go to Maths after school, by the way," she reminds me.
I groan at the very idea. "Surely I'll be let off, since everyone thinks I'm a depressed saddo who tried to top herself."
"No such luck," Clove replies. "Fatboy Mellark will be waiting for you, as usual, in the library. Mr. Abernathy told me to tell you when I saw you next."
"I'm going to catch the loser off him," I whine. "I can feel it."
Clove takes another bite of her apple. "Being a loser isn't contagious, you know. Just like it can't be cured."
For some reason, I have a feeling she's wrong.
A/N: Sorry I'm a day late! :O
Please R&R with thoughts :)