It's a Jungle Out There

by Blueberrychills94

When head cheerleader Katniss Everdeen is found in her bathroom unconscious and surrounded in pills everyone thinks the same thing: suicide. Her life is thrown into turmoil when nobody believes her when she says that she didn't try to kill herself and the only person she can turn to is Peeta, the boy who she has bullied for most of her life and is now tutoring her for math. OCC.

4. Chapter 4

A/N: Since I was late updating yesterday I decided to give you guys a long chapter a day early :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter Four

Mellark is once again in the library before me. I'm not surprised by this, I purposely procrastinated even arriving. Thankfully it's a lot emptier than the first time we tried this and there are only a few pairs of eyes staring at me as I limp over to Mellark's table. He's hunched over a book again, not to hide any bruises this time I'm guessing.

I slap my books onto the table hard enough to make a loud bang. Mellark jumps in shock and looks at me in alarm. "Was that necessary?" he demands.

"I don't know, was it?" I ask back, easing myself into the seat across from him and throwing my crutches onto the floor. I expect a snide comment from him. Something about karma or comeuppance, that since I made fun of his black eye on our first study day, fate has bit me in the ass in the form of a broken leg. Or maybe something about my alleged suicide. Maybe he's going to say something like the world's better off without me or whatever. Nothing I'd take to heart, since he is such a dweeb.

Except nothing comes. Well, nothing concerning my broken leg anyway. Or my 'suicide'. I eye Mellark sceptically as he slips his book underneath the huge ass algebra text book and wonder if he's making fun of me by not saying anything. Maybe he makes jokes with the other twerps from Loser's End when my back's turned? Typical. Coward won't say it to my face.

It's difficult to concentrate. My thoughts are distracted with images of Glimmer and Gale. I worry that Gale will think I'm not interested and give up, maybe actually trying to become serious with Glimmer. I'll have to find someone soon, and something tells me it's going to have to be Marvel. The guy who seems to have a vendetta against the squishiness of my breasts.

"Are you even focusing?" Mellark brings me back to earth by asking.

I focus my eyes on him and cock my head in interest. "You're a smart guy, do you think Glimmer and Gale's relationship will last?"

Mellark stares at me with an expression I can only decipher as disbelief. "Excuse me?" he asks.

"Glimmer and Gale. Do you think they'll last?"

"And this has what to do with Algebra?"

"Nothing," I say. "But I'm asking anyway."

Mellark rolls his eyes and directs them back to the textbook. "It is not my place to comment on the relationship status of others. Especially not Gale Hawthorne's."

"Yeah but you must have an opinion," I insist.

"And what if I said I did think it would last?"

"I would say you're a lying fucker."

Mellark pushes his glasses up his nose and sighs. "Put like a true lady," he says.

I scowl. "Just answer the damn question."

"Katniss, if you honestly believe that anyone thinks that the spontaneous getting together of Glimmer and Gale is anything but fake then you're obviously paranoid," Mellark says. "Why would a guy whose eyes have always been glued to your ass ever since freshman year choose one of your best friends when you disappear for a week? It's hardly a feasible decision."

A smirk curls onto my face. "His eyes have been glued to my ass since freshman year?" I ask. There's a possibility that Mellark could be lying but out of all the things to be untruthful about, why would he bother with that? Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if Gale's eyes had been glued to my ass since we were freshman. I always had a feeling he had been attracted to me for that long. Maybe even longer.

"I knew it," I conclude, folding my arms smugly. "I knew you'd be good for something, Mellark."

"Most would assume that the good you should have suspected would have been my aiding you in passing math," Mellark comments.

I laugh. Idiots. "Look Mellark, I don't need math. I'm only coming to these lessons so I don't get thrown in hot water with Mr. Abernathy," I explain. "Do you honestly believe I'd come here for any other reason?"

"Obviously not," Mellark replies.

I grab my cast in both hands and haul it up so it's elevated on the seat beside Mellark's. I lean back in my seat and rest my crossed arms on top of my chest. I watch the nerd with a perplexed frown as he arranges his papers. The bruise on his face is beginning to fade but I'm sure Gale will be giving out plenty more before the year ends. Still, if Clove is right and Gale and his friends have been stopping him outside school every day to take his money, what has he been doing for things such as lunch?

"What have you been eating?" I find myself randomly asking. I shouldn't care but curiosity has gotten the better of me.

The question seems to almost strike Mellark like I've slapped him. He almost flinches as if the words I have spoken are venomous. "Don't worry, I've been laying off the fries, just like you said," he mutters.

My frown deepens. "Why should you care about what I say?" I ask. "People like you and me insult each other all the time."

"Oh yeah, sure," Mellark says, rolling his eyes. "All the time."

He's obviously trying to make me feel bad. Mellark doesn't listen to me, let alone do as I tell him. He's trying to guilt me into thinking, 'Oh no! Poor baby Mellark's fweelings were hurt by my wittle comment about his weight.' Ha! As if. "Just answer the question. You're lucky I'm even still here."

Mellark laughs. "You speak as if I want you here," he says. "Go if you wish, but whatever grade you get at the end of the year is on your head."

My phone buzzes and when I pull it out of my pocket; there's a notice of a text from Marvel. I roll my eyes. Fantastic. I knew it wouldn't be long before he heard that I was talking about him again.

"Hey babe, heard u want 2 hook up Cashmere's party?"

I bite back a devious grin and stamp out a fast response.

"Yea. Why? U up 4 it?"

I look back up at Mellark, who seems unimpressed by my texting during a study session. God, he's such a nerd. "Gale's been stealing your money for at least the past two weeks. Unless you Loser's End freaks share food. It's weird but I wouldn't put it past you chumps."

Mellark shows little interest in the direction this conversation has taken. "Look Katniss, all I am here for is to teach you math. I am not a friend, let alone someone you should engage in conversation. Besides, why ask such questions when it is clear you don't care? Why should I tell you anything when if I said something it is obvious you will immediately run off and gossip to your friends?"

I grimace. "What flew up your nose?" I scoff. "Fine, teach me something. I'd like to see you try."

My phone buzzes.

"I'm always up 4 it baby. Want 2 meet up b4? May-b this afternoon?"

"Sure. What time?"

"Maybe it's about time you learned Algebra. Since you are clearly nonplussed on the topic."

"Fine, whatever."

"How about 5:30?"

"KK."

HALF AN HOUR LATER:

I stare at my exercise book blankly. Numbers are scratched out on my page, intercepted occasionally by letters. Beside each one are ticks. Green ticks. As in ticks that indicate something is right. I . . . got it right. All of it. I expect Mellark to be smug. He's bound to be. I'm sure he's pretty pleased with himself, having taught the stupid girl how to collect like terms and solve equations. Oh my God, I already sound like a nerd!

I dread looking at him but when I do, he's not even looking at me. He's packing his bag. I suppose understanding a whole new topic is enough for one day but . . . wow. I actually got it. I still can't believe it. Maybe this nerd will help me.

Mellark stands up and shoulders his bag. "I'll see you around the same time tomorrow." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, whatever," I say.

In his own weird way, I suppose Mellark is kind of cute. Not my type, obviously, but I'm sure if he wasn't such a freak he'd find a girlfriend much easier. Ha, or a boyfriend. I guess I could ask Cato if he was single right now, since I'm obviously going to have to do something to pay Mellark back for his help. If Mellark is even gay, that is. I'm sure he is. He's never showed interest in girls before.

Eck. I hate owing people.

I meet Marvel at the 50's café near the school. This is the most common area for students to hang out and, if I want our going out together to spread as fast as Glimmer and Gale's did, this is our best bet to go on a date.

"Katniss," Marvel drawls as soon as he lays eyes on me. He's sitting in a booth, the glass of cola sitting on the metal table gathering a condensation ring around the bottom. I shudder at his sleazy tone. It feels like someone has walked over my grave. Every step I take towards him feels like I'm wading through thick mud. The only thing keeping me moving is the image of what Gale's face will look like when he hears about us. "How long has it been?"

I plaster a fake smile onto my face and slide into the seat beside him. I leave my crutches against the table and sigh. "Too long."

"So, what brings this sudden request of company?" asks Marvel.

"Loneliness," I lie. "I'm sure you understand all too well what such a thing feels like." I ignore the fact that Marvel is staring at my chest, not my eyes. I should be flattered that my chest is worth staring at, really. Besides, I don't want to really start a relationship with this pervert, I just need him to believe that I do to get Gale jealous at Cashmere's party.

Marvel raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of the cola. He doesn't ask if I want anything. I can feel hundreds of eyes on us. Every single student from Capitol High is probably watching us right this minute. I smile. Good. Always so intrigued in everyone's lives and never their own.

"And here's me thinking it was because no one wanted you after you tried to top yourself," Marvel says.

"One: I didn't try to top myself," I say, "and two: why would you think that? You know I've always had a soft spot for you, Marvel."

Marvel chuckles, clearly pleased with my answer. "I do leave quite the impressionable mark," he says. He threads his fingers to form an arch and sits his chin on top. "I heard that you've been stalked by Fatboy Mellark. Some think that's why you swallowed all those pills. Thoughts?"

My façade momentarily wavers. What? Surely he's lying. The whole stalking thing was only a white lie I mentioned to Gale, surely people aren't taking it to such extremes? I shake my head quickly. "Mellark can't scare me," I say. "I didn't swallow loads of pills either. I slipped."

"Nevertheless, I wouldn't worry about him anymore, babe, Gale and I have been taking care of it," Marvel explains.

I resist the urge to turn my nose up. I know all too well that they've been dealing with it. Although, it's kind of sweet they've been doing this to defend my honour. But the damage they're causing to Mellark . . . maybe I should tell them to ease off. Not that I care but I need the little nerd to finish teaching me math.

"He's backed off," I say. "There's really no need to keep punishing him. He'd be an idiot not to be afraid of you guys." I lean over the table and touch Marvel's arm, resisting the urge to hurl. God, this better work.

Marvel grins and cups his hand over my own. I'm repulsed by his touch but continue to smile anyways. "Whatever you say, baby."

Yeah, whatever I say. As long as you do your job, you can do whatever you want, too. "Thanks. You know . . . just . . . leave Mellark alone, alright? He's a weakling. It's almost unfair to keep bothering him."

Marvel sighs, clearly agreeing with me. I remove my hand from his arm and try not to shake it to rid it of his pervy germs. "School is a jungle, baby," says Marvel. How many times has he called me that now? "Sometimes the bacteria at the bottom of the food chain have to be reminded of their position. And that's what we predators do. It's not really a question of fair and unfair. Really, because Mellark is a weakling he's just asking for a beating."

I pick at the red napkin sitting diagonally on my side of the table. "I know-all of Loser's End are practically asking for it-but does the tiger attack the deer simply for the sake of it? No. He waits until he's hungry. Where's the joy of the hunt if the animal is always expecting it?" Why are we still discussing this anyways? I don't care about Mellark but the poor sap can't defend himself against Marvel or Gale or anyone else who have decided to be a part of the morning collection.

"But I'm always hungry," Marvel smirks.

His hand crawls onto my knee. I silently inhale, thankful that I chose today to wear jeans. If I felt his bare hand on my skin I'd probably throw up for real. "I'm counting on it," I reply seductively. "Let's stop talking about that loser Mellark. Are you on for Cashmere's party or not? I'm sure if you don't there's somebody else who would be more than willing to"-

"No, I'm game," Marvel blurts out. His eyes slip down to my chest again and bounce back up like the sight of them alone had a bouncy castle effect. "As long as you promise to wear that sexy mini dress you were wearing when we met."

It takes me a moment to remember the dress he's talking about. Do I even still have that dress? I nod anyways. "Of course." I'll probably wear something else and tell him on the night that Prim borrowed it for her drama class.

Marvel grins so wide I can see his teeth. They're unnaturally white. He's probably whitened them over a thousand times. When we were going out, he told me that he wanted to have them capped. I can imagine him doing it so much that he ends up looking like a horse. "You know what they say, the best should always go out with the best," he says.

What? Who the hell says that? I smile anyway. "Obviously."

Besides, all of this is a game anyway. All you need to do is play the right moves and you're sure to win.

~xXx~

Cashmere is a classic rich kid. Every time her parents leave on business trips, she leaps on the chance to exploit their mansion-sized house in the form of throwing parties. All she has to do is tell one person, who tells another, who tells another, until the entire school knows about it. It's not very difficult for word to spread at this damn school. You know whether you're welcome, of course. The Loser's End freaks are sensible enough to know to steer clear while we cheerleaders know we're more than welcome.

Marvel and I agreed to meet at the house. I suggested this. Mostly because I'm not at all keen on the idea of sharing a cab with Marvel, who will try and touch my thigh every few seconds. I hope he realizes that we can't fuck tonight. I'm clearly not in the state for sex. Unless he wants to do all the work, that is.

The party was due to begin at 8:00pm but when I arrive at 7:55, it seems like things have been in full swing for quite some time. I don't know where to meet Marvel (all we agreed on was meeting at the house, the thought of where exactly at the house didn't really dawn on me until I was hobbling up the steps leading to Cashmere's house).

On my way into the house, I'm shocked to find Mellark sitting on the bench on the porch. "What are you doing here?" I ask in surprise.

Mellark looks at me, his surprise equating mine, and shrugs. "Delly's parents are out of town and she's staying with my family for the weekend. I have to look after her. The only way my parents would let her come was if I came with her."

Of course. That would the only reason someone as cool as Cashmere ever allow a loser on her front porch. Delly is awesome and can be the heart and soul of a party. You don't party without a Cartwright there. It's like a national rule or something. Ignoring Mellark and walking on, I use my crutches as a personal space enforcer. I beat anyone who gets too close out of the way and push people with them if they're in my way. Cashmere's house is huge and earlier tonight I reconsidered even going. I knew I'd be exhausted within five minutes from having to drag this anchor-a.k.a. my cast-around. I dismissed the very idea, however, as it would be foolish to miss the party. Cashmere's parties are always monumental and I missed the last one to Spanish Flu so I'm not missing out again.

"Katniss!" Clove pushes through the masses to reach me, pushing a drunk who touched her ass into the staircase on her way. The idiot was clearly wasted and simply allowed himself to roll down the steps instead of trying to save himself. "You made it."

"Of course I did," I say breathlessly. Shit, I'm sweating. I dab my forehead with the back of my hand and try to breathe slowly to get oxygen back into my lungs.

"Maybe you should sit down," Clove says, eyeing me cautiously, like she expects me to pass out right before her eyes.

"I'm fine," I say. I flick my hair out of my eyes and flash my winner smile at her. Clove rolls her eyes but doesn't question me. I know she doesn't believe me but it wouldn't be the first time.

"Oh my god!" A tipsy Leevy pushes stumbles in from the kitchen. Leevy is the daughter of the head of the school's board of governors so she can basically get away with anything. She climbed the popularity ladder by handing out test answers like candy without getting in trouble with the teachers. "Katniss!" She looks at my leg, staring at it intensely for a good half minute. She eventually meets my eyes again and gushes, "I have to sign your cast!"

When I was little, I remember being desperate to break my arm so people could sign my cast. Now it hadn't really passed my mind. "Uh"-

Leevy helps me to the living room. "MOVE!" she barks at the wasted teens on the sofa. Once clear, she all but pushes me down on it, lifts my cast and balances it on the coffee table. "Anyone got a pen?" she yells.

Clove appears beside her, her expression as bored as usual. "Here," she said, passing over a black sharpie.

"Oh! I wanna sign!" Someone else declares which starts a chorus of other drunk nimrods deciding they want to sign my cast as well. I don't mind, really. I'm just thankful for the seat. I don't recognize half the people who take the sharpie and signs their name but Clove looms over their shoulders like a hawk. One guy tried to draw something inappropriate and she pushed him away before he could.

"We really should be charging," Clove concludes, perching on the arm of the sofa beside me.

"Mmm," I hum in agreement. Imagine the profit! A dollar a sign amongst these drunk idiots? We'd make a fortune!

When the excitement over the cast signing begins to die down, a voice behind the sofa asks, "Any room for one more?"

I bolt upright and crane my neck around just in time to see Gale make his way around the sofa. "Of course!" I say, nudging Clove with my elbow so she'll hand Gale the sharpie.

"Ow!" Clove yelps. "What are your elbows made of? Steel?" She grumpily hands over the sharpie and walks away to leave Gale and me alone. I touch my hair, making sure that my braid hasn't come undone so I don't look scruffy. When I'm satisfied that it's intact, I straighten up and try to look unfazed by Gale's appearance.

Gale crouches beside me and traces his name onto a spot near my ankle. I hold my breath, watching his strong hand as it cuts straight and true to create the letters of his name. I lay back to seem casual and ask, "So where's Glimmer?"

"Powdering her nose," Gale answers. He stands up and hands me the sharpie. His fingers brush mine and I tilt my head. Curious. "Why do you girls need to powder your noses anyway?"

"It's a secret," I whisper. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Gale laughs. I smirk, pleased that he finds me funny. "I guess I'll just have to ask Cato next time I see him."

I snort. "Like he'd know."

Gale takes Clove's position on the edge of the sofa. My body is on red alert, my brain wide awake to make sure I don't do anything stupid. I shift over so I have a better view of him. "Sure he does," said Gale. "Pansies tend to, don't they?"

I pull a face. Well that was out of taste. "I guess," I say unsurely. "Isn't that a bit . . . ?"

"Honest?"

"I was going to say stereotypical."

Gale laughs again. I don't find anything funny this time around but I laugh anyway.

"Katniss."

My head jerks to the right and I jump at the sight of Marvel standing at the opposite end of the sofa with his eyebrow quirked. "Marvel," I beam, "there you are! I was just holding a little signing session. Care to add your name to the pool?"

Marvel seems weary of me. His eyes constantly glance at Gale and I hope he doesn't figure out what I'm doing too early. Once he's signed his name, he climbs over the coffee table and sits down beside me on the sofa. He throws his arm around me and I try not to cringe at how he smells of pungent sweat. "Gale, where's your beautiful date for the evening?"

Gale's eyes are locked on Marvel's arm and how it's wrapped around my neck. I bite back a smirk and, against my better judgement, snuggle closer to Marvel so my head lies on his chest. "Powdering her nose," Gale repeats. His voice is guarded. Suspicious.

Marvel rolls his eyes. "Women. A mystery all of their own."

Gale also rolls his eyes, clearly in agreement. "Tell me about it," he says. "I"-

"Gale!" Glimmer launches herself at Gale, her thin arms encompassing his neck and practically strangling him upon contact. "I'm back!"

Now that I have taken a step back from Glimmer, I can truly see how fucking annoying she is. Her voice is so high pitched and unnecessarily shrill. She's too giggly, almost like a five year old, and I don't understand how it took me to hate her to actually notice this. Even Marvel winces when she opens her mouth and he's dealt with much worse.

Glimmer drags Gale away to the kitchen for some drinks. I resist the urge to push Marvel away from me, knowing that since the night is young there will still be plenty of opportunities to make Gale jealous. The way he looked at Marvel's arm around me was enough evidence for my theory to be confirmed. Now all I need is to batter him with envy.

"Why aren't you wearing the dress I asked you to wear?" asks Marvel.

Damn, I almost forgot he was here.

"Prim borrowed it," I lie.

"And you didn't have any other dresses to wear?"

I look at my jeans. What's wrong with skinny jeans? Who gives Marvel the right to control my wardrobe anyway? Every second I'm in his presence the more aware I become of why we broke up. "None of them looked good enough because of my cast," I say. "Besides, I can't navigate well with a skirt on. It'd hitch up too high. Probably bunch up at the waist or something."

Marvel's eyes darken. "And what's wrong with that?" he asks.

"Many things," I say flatly. My annoyed tone makes Marvel begin to frown and I quickly whisper, "Because I'm not wearing anything underneath," while tracing patterns on his chest. Okay, that's a lie, but Marvel doesn't know this. I don't plan on him getting my pants off at any part of the night so he'll never know if I'm being honest or not.

The grin that curls onto Marvel's face is something to put the Joker to shame. I shiver in its presence. "Really now?" he purrs, tilting his head and leaning towards me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that the kiss is over quickly. I count backwards from fifty in my head and frown when I reach twenty without feeling Marvel's mouth on me at all. I open my eyes again and jump when I see that Gale and Glimmer have returned and are sitting across from us. They've gotten us drinks as well, which I accept graciously, overwhelmed with relief that I don't have to worry about Marvel kissing me just yet.

"Did anyone else see Mellark outside earlier or am I losing my mind?" asks Glimmer.

"No, he was there," I reply, sipping my beer cautiously. If I drink too fast, it'll react with my meds and I'll throw up. I can drink alcohol, just as long as I take it slowly. Which means no more shots for the feasible future. "Said something about being Delly's guardian or something like that? I don't know."

"He's not there anymore," Gale says.

I look at him over the rim of my beer cup. "What do you mean? Delly hasn't left, has she?"

"No," says Gale. He beams, as if proud of himself, and explains. "I don't think Mellark has fully gotten the message about leaving you alone, so I taught him a lesson."

Marvel and Glimmer burst out laughing like it's hilarious. If it had been a few weeks previous, I'd probably have done the same but now I can't find the humour in it. "Oh man, what did you do?" Marvel chuckles.

"Locked the loser in Cashmere's parents' bathroom," says Gale.

My eyes widen and I almost forget to laugh with everyone else. I fake a laugh which still doesn't match Glimmer's over exaggerated trill. She slaps Gale's arm and covers her mouth in this painfully fake manner. I swallow more beer and fan myself. Has it gotten warmer in here?

"How long do you plan on keeping him there?" I ask.

Gale shrugs, throwing his own arm around Glimmer like it's the ultimate 'this is my girlfriend' gesture. Marvel's arm feels like deadweight on my shoulders and I want nothing more than to lean forward and get the damn thing off me. "I don't know. Probably until Delly comes looking for him."

"God, poor girl," Glimmer sighs. "Out of everyone her parents could have known in High School, it had to be Fatboy Mellark's folks."

I pick at a loose thread in the seam of my jeans and shrug. "I guess it's just hard luck."

"Didn't Delly and Mellark hang out in Middle School?" Marvel asks. "I think I remember them going to classes together. What happened?"

"The party at Snow mansion happened," Glimmer answers.

My ears prick up and I frown. "Snow mansion? What happened at Snow mansion?"

Glimmer is about to answer but then someone announces a Chugging competition in the kitchen which causes Gale and Marvel to bolt out of their seats. Glimmer immediately follows, moving so fast that she has to clutch her purple beret to her head and twittering about how she had to film Gale chugging to post on her Vine account.

I'm left sitting on my own. The party continues around me but I don't feel as into it as I had been before. I heave myself off the sofa and limp upstairs to the top floor. I'm not sure where Cashmere's parents' room is but after knocking on numerous doors-and apologizing to the kids hitting third base inside them-I finally happen upon a door that has a sign "DO NOT ENTER" on it. When I peer inside, the double bed makes me think that it has to be the folks' room.

I don't even know why I'm doing this. I don't owe Mellark anything. Not yet. I haven't passed anything. All he has showed me is how to do a couple of algebra questions. But still, something sits unhappily inside me at the thought of leaving him in the bathroom to eventually be caught by Cashmere or worse her parents.

"Hello?" I rap my knuckles on the door beside the vanity table, guessing that it's the bathroom. "Anyone in there?"

"Occupied," A voice replies.

I roll my eyes and turn the handle, muttering, "I swear to God if you're not decent . . ." as I enter.

Mellark is standing in the middle of the small bathroom, his hands tied to the shower curtain rail by what looks like the sash for a bathrobe. He jerks his head to the side, so I'm staring at the back of my head, and says, "Go away, Katniss. I don't need this right now."

"I'm here to free you, you numbskull," I spit back. I prop my crutches against the wall and reach up to grab the sash binding his wrists. "Jesus this is tied tight. Were Gale's parents in the Military or something?"

"I don't need your help," Mellark says.

"Sure looked like you didn't," I say sarcastically. I move around him to try to approach the task from another angle and Mellark turns his head to the other side again. "What the heck is your problem?" I roughly grab the front of his shirt and force him to turn back and look at me.

His eye-the one that Gale had previously bruise-is beginning to swell with a fresh cut skimmed along his eyelid. Added on top of that, on his forehead in what looks like scarlet red lipstick the words "FATBOY MELLARK" are carved into his skin. I'm taken aback by this and bump into the sink as I move to back away.

"Oh God," I say.

"Don't even," Mellark says, looking away from me again. "Please just help me get free."

I resume my job of loosening the bindings. While I do this, I notice multiple cuts along his arms and wrists. "So, how'd you get the marks?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.

"What marks?" Mellark asks defensively.

"On your arms," I say.

"I don't know," he says, so fast my sentence is barely finished before he speaks.

I blink in surprise. "Erm, okay, I guess." Weird.

The sash comes free and I whoop in triumph. I turn to Mellark, expecting him to be equally as happy. Instead he mutters a quick thank you while pulling his sleeves down into his hands before leaving the bathroom as fast as possible. He leaves me in the bathroom, clutching the purple sash in my hands and wondering what the hell just happened.

A/N: Please R&R! You have no idea how much your feedback inspires me to keep writing! The reassurance is so comforting! :)