A/N: Okay guys, I might not be updating over the next few weeks. We all know what season it is and I don't want to throw away my exams just for writing (as tempting as it is). I'll begin updating again the Monday after my last exam (which I think is the 15th of June). I hope you will all remain interested in this story over that time since it is over a month away . . . I'm sorry, I have no other option.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter Eleven

"Can a school be corrupt?"

Doctor Aurelius looks at me in surprise, shocked that I'm even speaking to him with a logical conversation to boot. "Any school in particular?" he asks, crossing one knee over the other and placing his notepad on top. I shake my head, making it clear that I wasn't going to say, even if there was. "Depends on who's in charge of the school. Some people aren't very good at hiding their deception. Others . . . well . . . others disguise it very well." He tilts his head in curiosity. "Why?"

I prop my leg up on top of the coffee table and fold my arms securely across my stomach. "Say there was a school," I say. "And the kids have arranged themselves into a pecking order where only the athletic and the beautiful are at the top. These people-even though they aren't very bright-rule over every other student in the order. They control things . . . make people feel like dirt. Hurt them, punish them for things beyond their control . . .

"The other students in the order aren't bad people, either. In fact, they're very smart. They deserve praise for their abilities but don't get any because of this stupid pecking order system. The system that deems they deserve to be treated like scum because of their smarts or their appearance or trivial things like their weight. What does it mean if the teachers support that? If the principal doesn't do anything about it?"

"Children are like wild animals, Katniss," Doctor Aurelius explains. "They behave like the school is a jungle and thus they have to assert their dominance to stay on top. If they don't, they believe they'll fall down and die."

"But what about the people who don't have a choice? The good people? The strongest people aren't always the best people to be on top so how do they get there and why don't the adults in charge do anything about it?" I insist.

"Adults can't see things the same way adolescents your age do. What you think is important will seem trivial to them. However, some try to stay in touch with the younger generation by siding with them when they maybe shouldn't. Maybe to get them on their side or encourage them to do what they want them to do."

I think of all the times Snow had my back before I broke my leg. I was the Head Cheerleader, he needed me on side to keep his silly football team motivated. When I broke my leg, things reversed. Suddenly he didn't need me on his side anymore, he needed Glimmer. For the time being until I'm healed, that is. What Snow wants is for the school to win the Homecoming Game and every other Game after that. Anything else, in his eyes, is unimportant.

"Have you been thinking about corruption within a school environment a lot recently?" Aurelius asks curiously.

"Yes," I confirm.

"Why do you think that is?"

I mull it over. I know why it is but I'm still not 100% sure I want to share this with him. He's my therapist, I know that, but the reasoning as to why I need a therapist in the first place is wrong. Aurelius is here because I supposedly tried to kill myself. But I didn't. I could still get help from him, though, if I just asked . . .

"I'm a bitch," I say flatly.

Aurelius raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm a colossal bitch. Before I broke my leg I'd have spat on a homeless person if they'd gotten in my way," I deadpan. "I was one of those assholes at the top of the chain who treated the rest like shit-sorry, I didn't mean to swear-and I continued to be like that beyond my accident. I still think I am a bitch. Peeta says I'm not, he says I'm changing or whatever, but he's too nice to say otherwise"-

"Who's Peeta?" Aurelius asks.

I frown. "Why?"

"Because it's the first name you've ever mentioned during our sessions," he replies.

I chew on my lip. "He's a friend. He tutors me math."

"How long have you been friends with him?" Aurelius probes.

"Not long," I admit. "He's too good for me, really. He's innocent in a sort of way. I feel like I'm going to get him in trouble." I stare at the floor shamefully. "I already have." Aurelius' gaze is gentle and I hate how much it comforts me. "He gets beat up a lot. Because he's clever. Before we were friends, I used to make fun of him horribly. Now it's backfired on me and I don't know what to do." I run my fingers through my hair in frustration and resist the urge to scream.

"How has it backfired?"

"This is private, right?"

"I can't repeat anything you say to anyone but you," Aurelius assures me.

"He's sick!" I blurt out, despite myself. "He's sick and I don't know what to do!"

Aurelius doesn't even flinch at my outburst. Has he a prepared reaction for every possible outcome? "How is he sick, Katniss?" he asks gently.

I already feel guilt swelling up inside me. I've betrayed Peeta by telling Aurelius, even if Aurelius can't go off and tell anyone else. "Peeta used to have a weight problem in Middle School," I explain, practically talking into my chest. "Even though he lost a ton of weight and toned up one summer, the nickname 'fatboy' hung over his head like a death sentence. I used to be one of the people who called him that. I didn't think he'd . . . If I'd known I wouldn't have . . ." I shake my head shamefully, knowing there's no excuse for how I treated Peeta. "He's anorexic now and is nearly a skeleton. I tried to tell him to get help but he doesn't think I understand!" I look at Aurelius desperately. "If he keeps going at the rate he's going at, he's going to die Aurelius." Those words make my stomach lurch and I instantly feel sick from uttering them.

Aurelius' compassionate gaze doesn't waver. He doesn't show disgust or worry, only kindness. "Katniss, the thing about anorexia is that it's a mental illness. Like depression or schizophrenia. It's all in the mind. Most people with anorexia are also body dysmorphic. This means that they have a distorted image of themselves. They look in the mirror and see something completely different to what we see."

I think of how Peeta had written 'handlebars' on his hips and probably has other 'motivators' marked onto his skin as well, even though he's only skin and bone now. Maybe if he had saw the weight he'd lost that summer before junior year, he wouldn't have saw a reason to starve himself. "I think he might have that," I tell Aurelius. "Can it be cured?"

Aurelius shakes his head. "It would take therapy and your friend would have to come willingly," he tells me.

I sigh in frustration. That's not going to happen! "But that's just it! He won't do anything about it! He still thinks he's fat!" I exclaim.

"You can encourage him, Katniss. You'd be surprised the effect a friend can have on an individual," Aurelius says.

"I don't have that big an influence," I mutter.

Aurelius cocks his head. "Why do you think that?" he asks me.

"Because it's true."

"Do you have low self-esteem?"

"No."

"Low opinion of yourself?"

"I suppose."

"How do other people see you?"

I shrug. "Most probably think I'm a crazy bitch who tried to kill herself," I answer. "Clove is still my friend, I guess. Peeta tried to say that he's always liked me but I think he might have just been trying to be nice . . ."

"What makes you say that?"

"I never spoke to him until this year! If you don't include being a complete arsehole, that is." I wince. "Sorry. I promise that's the last swearword." Aurelius hasn't said that I'm not allowed to swear but I feel wrong swearing in his presence. He seems like such a formal, put together guy. I don't want to dirty his pristine ears with my bog mouth. It might put him off trying to help me. And I need him to try to help me help Peeta help himself.

"You care about Peeta, don't you?" Aurelius asks. "In a deeper way than 'just friends'?"

I scoff, despite the fact that I know that he might just be right. "No," I lie unconvincingly. "We're completely platonically friends." Even though Aurelius looks unconvinced, I plough on. "And friends look out for each other. I don't want him to die. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, even when I was a bad person."

Aurelius thankfully looks like he understands me. "Sadly, Katniss, anorexia is complex. You can't tell someone with it to get help because in their eyes they're already helping themselves." His eyebrows draw together. "Isn't your mother a doctor? Couldn't you discuss it with her?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I promised Peeta I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Sometimes breaking promises are necessary. Especially if it's in a person's best interests," Aurelius says. When I stare at him, completely unconvinced, he says, "Okay, think of it this way: imagine Peeta told you he'd been attacked, let's say brutally beaten or raped, but told you to keep it secret and you promised you would. Would you actually keep it secret or would you inform the authorities?"

"I'd inform the authorities," I frown. "But that's not the same. Peeta wasn't attacked. He's just . . . just . . . I don't know what he is or was or what he plans to do! All I know is that if he goes the rate he's going, he won't make it to the end of the year!" I eye Aurelius wearily. "Shouldn't you want to be talking about me or something anyway?"

Aurelius shakes his head. "On the contrary. The fact that you're expressing care and concern about someone who you wouldn't have looked at before your accident is rather fascinating."

Is it? I wouldn't have thought it would be. I suppose since this is the first half way decent conversation we've ever had, since in our previous meetings all I've done is deny that I tried to kill myself. I'm sure Aurelius has gotten sick of hearing me saying, "I didn't try to commit suicide," and he has indulged in whatever conversation I offer that doesn't include those six words in it.

"Okay then," I say, folding my arms in defiance. "Tell me how to help him."

"Other than providing moral support wherever you can?" Aurelius asks. His eyes gleam with a sadness that takes me by surprise. "You can't."

~xXx~

"So what did you talk about?" Mother asks during the car ride home.

I shrug. "Nothing special."

"Aurelius told me that you've made progress," Mum continues. "That you actually had a civilised conversation. However, he couldn't divulge the information about what the conversation was about."

I shrug again. I definitely can't tell my mother about Peeta's condition. She'd become curious, probe for more information, try to get me to ask him questions to later relay the answers to her so she could build a plan of action. That's one of the things that I suppose is admirable about my mum. That sort of thinking must have skipped a kid because Prim is now exactly the same but I'm not. She's hard working with her dedication to her scout group, her dance classes, and her part time jobs. I'm just sort of floating. After spending so long thinking cheerleading was all that mattered, I'm really stuck for something to do after High School. I haven't even really properly thought about what I want to be. On a serious level, not a fanciful, "Oh, I'm going to be a star!" way.

I look at Prim in the rear view mirror. She's reading a book of some sort in the backseat. Isn't that sort of thing supposed to make you sick? In a way, I'm glad Prim hasn't turned out like I have. When dad died, she didn't throw herself into seclusion and force herself to do something she wasn't even sure she enjoyed yet. She did what dad would have wanted: worked at the things she loved and never let anyone scare her into conforming.

I look at myself in the rear view mirror. My grey eyes dull and judging. I've conformed. I can see that now. All my life I've worried about what other people think. I still do. I can't shake it. I wonder if dad would be ashamed of me or if he would cut me slack. It's been so long, I don't know how he would react to me.

"Yeah, we talked," I admit. "And yeah, I don't want to 'divulge' anything either."

"You don't have to," Mum assures. She removes a hand from the steering wheel to place on my knee. "As long as you're okay and are making progress."

"I guess . . ."

"Katniss," Prim suddenly pipes up from the back.

"Yeah?" I reply, returning my gaze to the rear view mirror.

Prim hasn't looked up from her book. Wait, is she talking and reading at the same time? Oh, no. She's writing. How can she write while the car's moving?! "Who's that boy you were studying with last week?"

My eyes widen and my heart drops into my stomach so fast it knocks the wind out of my lungs. "I . . . what?"

"You were studying with a boy. I saw you on my way to the bathroom."

"You were on your own with a boy?!" Mum exclaims.

I look at her incredulously. "Chill, mum, it's fine," I say. "He's just a friend."

"Well, he's unnaturally underweight. He should see a doctor," Prim states matter-of-factly. My head feels hollow and I have to lean against the car seat for support. How did Prim pick up on something like that? I knew she was perceptive but damn, I didn't think that perceptive! My mum glances at me out of the corner of her eye and squints, obviously recognizing that something's up.

"He's not underweight Prim!" I snap. Prim glances up from her book and quirks an eyebrow at me. I quirk one back. Mum is unaware of this quirking competition because she has to force herself to keep her eyes on the road. "You can't just go around making assumptions like that!"

"I'm not making assumptions," Prim replies calmly. She's using her doctor-to-patient voice on me! "I'm stating a fact." Her blue eyes widen as realization dawns on her. "I know who it is!"

"No you don't!" I deny before she's even said anything.

"Yes, I do!" Prim leans forward, books nearly tumbling out of her lap, and taps our mum's shoulder. "Remember Wyvern Mellark? He baked us bread when dad died?"

Mum nods slowly. "Yes," she says. We're past the point of having to tread on eggshells about dad's death. There was a time when we couldn't even mention dad. Mum went into a deep depressive state after his accident, throwing herself into work at the hospital and barely focusing on anything else. I think she thought that if she could prevent the deaths of other people, their loved ones wouldn't have to go through what she did. I understand the principal of her thoughts but I'm glad it's passed. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life never mentioning my dad out loud.

I don't focus on this, however. Wyvern Mellark. Is that Peeta's dad? Did he give us bread? I don't recall anyone giving us anything. The funeral was very private and nobody really called on us for a while. 'To let us grieve' mum had later claimed. Then again, I had been a bit depressed too, doing exactly what mum did only with cheerleading instead of spending my days at the hospital. I wouldn't have noticed if the Mellark clan moved into our house and baked bread every morning for us.

"It was his youngest," Prim continues. "Right Katniss?"

"No," I lie unconvincingly.

"Yeah it is! His name's Ciabatta!" declares Prim.

"No, it's not, it's Peeta!" I throw back.

Prim bursts out laughing. "And you just proved my point!"

I realize this a second too late and throw my head into my hands in despair. I really didn't want mum and Prim finding out about me hanging around with Peeta. I knew they'd know he's underweight, their medical eyes are trained to notice anything like that. I suppose if we're going to be long term friends, I couldn't hide Peeta forever but I was hoping that I'd maybe have given him a little more of a nudge towards seeking medical help by then.

"Okay, so what?"

"I didn't know you were friends with Wyvern's children," Mum says.

"I'm not. Just Peeta," I answer.

"Didn't he used to be fat?" Prim asks.

"Prim!" Mum and I shout at once.

"What?!" she exclaims.

"That's not nice!" Mum snaps.

Prim rolls her eyes. She's enduring the in-between stages of teenage rebellion which I would normally let her go through peacefully waving my white flag but this time she's irked me. "Don't say that again, ok?" I snap.

Prim, again, rolls her eyes. However, she nods and returns to her writing. "Fine, whatever."

I'm fuming for the rest of the journey. Is all anyone can remember of Peeta that he used to be fat? He has so many other beautiful attributes that people just ignore because he used to be a little tubby. For fuck's sake, that's not all he is. 'Didn't he used to be fat?'! The nerve of it!

Once we're back at home, Prim hands me my crutches from the backseat and I drag myself out of the car. I retrieve my backpack from the trunk and say to Mum, "I'm going to the bakery to see if Peeta wants to come out for a bit to do some work together." Anything to get some fresh air. I feel like I'm suffocating being trapped in that house for most hours every day.

"Katniss," Mum calls when I turn around to leave.

I turn back. "What?"

Mum's expression is unreadable. Prim hurries past, books practically spilling out of her arms, and stumbles into the kitchen. "Be careful, alright? Mrs Mellark, she's . . . just be careful, okay?"

"Alright I guess . . ." I frown as I turn back round.

What could that possibly mean?

A/N: Okay so remember: if I don't update these next few weeks, I haven't abandoned the story. I'll probably be cramming for exams. Urgh, school is such a burden but it has to be done!

Please review with your thoughts and thanks for reading! :)