A fresh wave of nausea washes over me and I throw myself at the toilet. My fingers dig into the porcelain bowl as I hack up my guts for the third time this morning. I don't have any food in my system so I'm basically choking up stomach acid. How Glimmer used to be able to do this on a regular basis is beyond my comprehension, just because she wanted to be thinner.

"Katniss, are you alright?" Prim's voice floats in from beyond the bathroom door.

"Yeah," I call back, stumbling to my feet and flushing the toilet. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and wash them before opening the door for Prim. "I think I'm coming down with something. The flu is going around, I think."

"Maybe you've caught something from the hospital," Prim suggests.

"You don't catch things from the hospital, Prim. Everything is sanitised," I say. "I use the soap they provide when I come in and when I leave. It's nothing. It's sickness." I weave around Prim as she enters the bathroom and throw myself onto the sofa in the living room. I've been at home for a week and half now and for at least a quarter of that time I've been sick. I keep trying to figure out where I could have caught the flu from but nothing comes to mind. It's probably just in the air or something.

"How's Peeta?" Prim asks as she returns from the bathroom.

"Good," I mumble into my pillow. I've seen Peeta every day, despite the fact that I feel like shit. I met his family, too. Well, most of his family. His mother wasn't there but it wasn't too big of a loss. His dad is really sweet. He brings Peeta tins of soup every time he visits because he knows that's all Peeta can eat right now. When Peeta goes home, his Doctor wants him to try to eat some vegetables and other solid foods. He can take it at his own pace, though. His brothers were cool, too. They're both goofballs but they obviously care about Peeta, which is what matters.

"You know that he wouldn't mind if you missed one day," says Prim. She crosses her legs on the armchair and balances a stripy glass of water on her knee.

"He knows I'm sick," I tell her. "But he needs me."

"I think you're better staying at home rather than barfing over him," Prim reasons. "Besides, if it is the flu, you might give it to him."

"It's weird, it doesn't feel like the flu," I say.

Prim is silent. She stares at the carpet with a frown. I wonder what she's thinking about . . .

"Katniss," she says quietly.

"What?"

"Are you pregnant?"

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Her words leave me winded. "What?!" I exclaim. "No!"

Prim drinks from her glass and shrugs. "It's just a theory," she says. "You said it doesn't feel like flu and you've been barfing every morning for a week and a half." Her blue eyes widen. "Oooh, is it Peeta's?"

"I'm not pregnant, Prim!" I snap at her. I grumpily turn around on the sofa and snuggle into the cushions. My stomach is churning still but I'll just sleep it off. Usually once the morning has passed the sickness wears off. I'm not pregnant. I haven't had sex in a month and a half. Marvel put a condom on, I watched him do it. The idea of getting pregnant by such a sleeve makes the sickness worse and I push the thought away.

"You know what they say," says Prim, "there's no 100% form of contraception besides not having sex at all."

I scowl into the cushions. "What the hell, Prim? Where are you learning this?" I demand to know.

"Religion class," Prim replies.

"Don't worry about me," I tell her. "My sex life is my business. I'm not an idiot, I've always taken all the necessary precautions." I frown. "Not that I've needed to. Make sure you love the person you first make love to, Prim."

Prim rolls her eyes and sets down her glass. "I know, Katniss. I'm not going to throw myself at anyone. Trust me, I don't intend to do anything like that anytime soon. Looking at you and the way things have been going for you I can't say that I'm all that keen to do it at all, really."

I turn back around and glare at her. "What do you mean 'the ways things have been going for me'?!"

"I'm sorry Katniss but it hasn't exactly been smooth sailing for you," she says. "You used to bring boys around here all the time! You don't honestly believe that I don't know you regret it because now you've met someone you really care about?"

"You're too observant, Prim," I say dryly.

Prim shrugs. "You used to keep me up at night, Katniss. It's not like I was trying to be nosey. It was every night mum was on the night shift. Every night. You brought some guy home and you'd be up most of the night giggling and kissing. I used to think you didn't respect me enough as a person to know that I didn't want you messing around with boys when I was home."

I sit up. "I never had sex with anyone when you were at home, Prim," I try to assure her.

"You cared more about using the time mum was gone to be with all those boys instead of spending time with me," Prim mutters. She looks at me with glittery eyes. "Especially when dad died. I needed you then, you know."

I feel ashamed of myself. Of course Prim needed me. What made me think she didn't? I was always too caught up in myself and how I felt that I thought Prim sailed through dad's death easily. Just because she didn't fall like me didn't mean that she didn't need support.

"I'm sorry," I say. "When dad died I went to a dark place. I turned into a lousy person. I'm different now though! If you think there's still a chance for us to revive what we missed out on then we try to spend more time together?"

I want Prim to believe me however instead of immediately taking my word for it-expressed through a smile maybe-she simply nods. "I'd rather wait to see if you're honest about that before getting my hopes up about it," she tells me.

"I understand," I reply. God, I can't believe I have to have a conversation like this with my own sister. I had always just thought that Prim was okay with the sort of person I was. I had never been directly bitchy to her. Nor had I ever planned to be. Yet now whenever I look into her eyes I know that she was never okay with it. She just wanted a big sister to look after her when she lost her dad. That isn't a lot to ask for. I couldn't even give her that.

"Maybe you should give the last guy you did it with a call," says Prim, all previous admissions forgotten. "Just to ensure that he . . . you know."

"But he did," I insist. "I'm not pregnant. If I was, wouldn't I have been throwing up ages ago?" I laugh it off, knowing that the impossibility of it was so fierce for me. I wouldn't be pregnant. I never had sex with people that often. Prim stares at me with the same serious, medical face mum uses when she's in doctor mode. "Would it get you to calm down if I did?"

Prim nods. "I just want to be sure. For your sake, not mine. If you were pregnant, mum would skin you alive."

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it." I was raised to never make stupid decisions like having unsafe sex. That's why every partner I've ever been with has put a condom on and I've been on the pill since I turned sixteen. Except I had to stop taking those when I had to take my antidepressants. However, I've only had sex once since I was prescribed those and that was with Marvel at Cashmere's party. He wants a baby as much as I do and I know for a fact that he put a condom on.

To keep Prim happy I lean forward and grab my mobile off the coffee table. It feels wrong dialling Marvel's number. I know he's going to misinterpret my calling him. He's going to think I want to ask him out or something. Again. Well, too bad for him. I'll never go out with a sleazy jerk like him ever again. Especially not after what he did to Peeta on Cashmere's front lawn.

"Hey baby," is the immediate response I get once Marvel answers, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Marvel," I say flatly, "you wore a condom when we had sex at Cashmere's party, right?"

"Of course," Marvel says, all previous sleaziness forgotten at the spontaneity of such a question. "Why?"

"I'm just trying to prove a point," I reply. "You definitely put a condom on and the sex we had was safe, right?"

"Right," Marvel answers. "I even pre-poked the holes at the end of it myself."

My blood turns cold. "What holes?" I ask slowly.

"Y'know, the ones you pierce through the condom to make sure I get as much pleasure as I can."

"You don't poke holes in condoms!" I shout hysterically down the line. "Who the fuck told you that?!" Prim straightens up in her seat, her eyes widen in horror. "What sort of fucked up sex education class did you get?!"

"I didn't get sex education, Snow cut the class," says Marvel. "It doesn't matter because you're on the pill anyway, aren't you?"

"NO!" I roar at him. "I couldn't take it once I was put on antidepressants!"

There's silence on the other end.

"MARVEL!" I scream. "Say something!"

"It doesn't matter!" Marvel says quickly. "You're not pregnant anyway! No harm, no foul, right?" I drop my phone onto the floor. "Katniss? Right? Answer me! Katniss!" I take one last panicked look at Prim before my churning stomach has had enough and forces me to throw up all over the living room carpet.

~xXx~

I sit on a bench in front of my house, staring at the ground beneath my feet. It's cool outside and feels nice against my inflamed cheeks. Marvel is a dickhead. I can't believe he honestly thought that he could poke holes into his condoms without any consequences. My stomach is still churning, more from nerves now than nausea. Prim helped me clean up the living room and promised not to tell mum.

That's my job.

Mum pulls up in front of the house at 6:00pm, like she does every day. I appreciate her taking me to visit Peeta even when she just got back from her day shift. Maybe she knows that Peeta needs the support. Or maybe she's just glad I'm doing something productive instead of going out getting drunk and chasing boys.

I get into the car and throw my crutches into the back. "How's your day been, sweetie?" Mum asks as she pulls out again.

"I was sick again," I say, the mere thought of it making my stomach gurgle unhappily.

"Again? Maybe I should take you to your GP," Mum muses. "If it's an infection you can get some antibiotics or something. I'll give them a call when we get back"-

"Mum," I interrupt.

"Yeah?"

I take a shaky breath. "Can we stop by the pharmacy?" I ask her.

"Sure. Why? What is it?" asks Mum.

Tears well up in my eyes and I look away from her, out the window to where the landscape is whizzing by in a dizzying blur. "Marvel poked holes into his condoms and didn't tell me," I tell the window. "I need to get a pregnancy test." Saying those words out loud causing fear to seize my being. I start to sob, my head falling into my lap as the realization crashes on top of me that there's a possibility I could be pregnant.

"Katniss," Mum says sternly. I try to calm down to hear what she has to say. I need to know if she's disappointed in me or not. I swallow my sobs and force my head up. I can't really see her through my watery eyes but I can make out her blond hair. "It's not your fault."

"Aren't you disappointed in me?" I cry. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, desperately trying to stop the tears from slipping out.

Mum sighs and pulls a handkerchief out of her jacket. She hands it to me and tells me to clean myself up. "Katniss, I've known you've been having sex for ages now. You aren't subtle. Besides, Marvel Winters' mother came into the surgery when you guys were sophomores and told me about how you broke the bed in her spare room when she and her husband were away for the weekend. I don't care that you're not celibate, Katniss. Asking a teenager not to have sex isn't very realistic. All I've ever wanted of you is to do it safely. Take the precautions I raised you to take.

"Marvel tricked you. From the sounds of it anyway. Punching holes in his condoms is a very low move and if you are pregnant as a result of it . . ." Mum clutches the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turn white . . . "I'm going to kick that son of a bitch's ass."

Hearing my mum swear is so rare I just stare at her in horror and awe.

"It's my responsibility to act as your father and mother in this situation," Mum explains. "Which means that I can get to be comforting while simultaneously hunting down Marvel to shoot him with a crossbow."

"He thought it was better for him to do it," I tell her. "Because Principal Snow cut sex education class."

Mum tuts. "I never supported that man," she says. "He was in school at the same time as my mother and apparently he was just as much of a jerk then as he is now."

I push my hair back from my face and press it between my knees. "What am I going to do if I am pregnant, mum? I don't want a baby."

"There's always adoption or foster care. It's not the desired option but if you don't want to keep this baby then there's no use in keeping it. Besides, you mightn't be pregnant anyway."

All I can do is hope that mum is right.

We drop by the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test. I tell mum that I want to explain things to Peeta before I take the test because as my boyfriend he has a right to know what's going on. She agrees and we drive to the hospital. I worry about facing Peeta. About what he's going to say when I tell him that I might be pregnant with another man's baby. Will he still want to be with me? Or will he hate my guts and never want to see me again?

Peeta's sixth sense picks up on my misery instantly anyways. It seems that whenever I come in here, all I do is bear bad news. "Katniss, is everything okay?" he asks.

"No," I reply. I don't even sit. I'm prepared to leave as soon as I tell him because the likelihood is that he'll want me to go once he knows.

"What's in the bag?"

I want to cry at how nonplussed he is. He's made so much progress. His bones aren't as prominent anymore and there's no wires coming out of his body at all. This is the sort of thing expected of the old me. Getting pregnant with one night stands. I wanted to change for him, I wanted to become a better person for him. Now I've basically thrown all that away.

"A pregnancy test," I tell him.

Peeta stares at me, his expression unmoving. "Why?" he asks.

"My sickness . . . how I've been throwing up so much . . . there's a possibility I may be pregnant."

Peeta swallows before saying anything. I watch the movement of his Adam's apple as it bobs nervously in his throat. It's better than looking him in the eye. He knows we haven't had sex. He knows it isn't his. So why hasn't he blew up in blind rage yet? "Who?" he simply asks.

"Marvel Winters." My voice cracks from just saying his name. "Remember Cashmere's party? He punched holes in his condoms and didn't tell me."

Peeta's eyes widen in mortification. "He did what?!" he blows up. I wince and squeeze my eyes shut, expecting to be called every word under the sun. "Marvel actually had the gall to do that to you? Isn't that sort of thing illegal?! I can't believe this!" Peeta gets up out of bed and limps over to me. I'm shocked when he wraps his arms around me and squeezes tight. "It's not your fault," he tells me.

"I should have been on the pill!" I cry.

"You couldn't have been on the pill! Not with the medication you're taking!" Peeta scolds.

"I shouldn't have thrown myself around like a cheap harlet then!" I insist. I don't mention that I only had sex with Marvel that night to protect Peeta from being hurt. Besides, it didn't work out that way anyway since Marvel went after him right afterwards. "I should have known better!"

"Have you taken the test?" Peeta asks me.

I shake my head into his chest.

"Okay, go into the bathroom and take it. I'll be right here okay?"

I nod miserably and go to Peeta's bathroom. I don't know whether I'm pleased or annoyed by Peeta's reaction. He should be mad at me as well. It takes two to tango. I mean, Marvel didn't rape me or anything. I let him have sex with me! So why isn't Peeta mad with me as well? I pee on the stick and bring it back out into Peeta's room.

"We have to wait three minutes," I tell him.

Peeta nods. He throws the covers back from his bed and nods for me to get in beside him. I leave the test on the bedside table and crawl in with him. He throws the covers over us and holds me against him. When I place my hands on his sides, I still feel bones, but not as prominently as I had done before. I actually feel the tell-tale sign of muscle beginning to form again.

"I don't deserve you," I whisper into his chest.

"Katniss, this isn't your fault," Peeta tells me. He absentmindedly plays with my braid, his chin pressed comfortably against the top of my head. "You didn't lie to me or cheat on me. I knew you had sex with Marvel at Cashmere's party. I still said yes to being your boyfriend. This is entirely Marvel's fault. Even if he believed that punching the holes would benefit him-I remember Gale used to spread bullshit like that all the time-he still should have told you that he'd done it."

"I don't want to be pregnant," I say.

"I know," Peeta says gently, rubbing my back comfortingly. I lean further into him, wishing there was a way to be as close as I possibly can to him without having to actually be naked or anything. "But if you are I'm still going to be here. I'll help with the child if that's what you want or support your through the adoption process if you want to put it up."

How firm and sure of himself he is makes me want to cry all over again. He tips my chin up with his knuckle and kisses me. It's so soft and gentle I don't ever want it to end. He touches my face and I touch his, my hand pushing back from his cheek and into his hair. We're locked in this embrace for a long time, kissing each other like the rest of the world doesn't exist and it's only us right here right now.

When I break off for air, my heart skips a beat. "It's been three minutes."

Peeta kisses me again. "I know," he whispers.

I turn around and pick up the test.

~xXx~

Ever since I found out that I'm pregnant, it's all I've been able to think about. I'm constantly looking in the mirror, staring intensely at my stomach as if my eyes will suddenly turn into X-ray goggles and I'll be able to see through into the child inside me. When I saw the red plus on the test, I sobbed in Peeta's arms for an hour and a half. It's been a day since then. I haven't called Marvel yet. I don't know if I want him to know. It's his fucking fault that this has happened.

Eventually, I know I'll have to. Whether I like it or not, Marvel is the father. He won't be able to stop me from giving the baby up for adoption when they're born but he has a right to know. Besides, the bastard could use having the living shit scared out of him. He's ruined my life and I want him to know that.

It's the day before homecoming and I feel like complete shit. I've been wandering around the house like a zombie, not able to comprehend what this will mean for the next eight months of my life. I've stayed in the same pyjamas the entire time. Mum has instructed Prim to let me have my space because I could easily lose my cool at any moment. A part of me is actually tempted to call Marvel just to get him to come to the house so I can take my anger out on him.

There's a knock on the door. I groan because I'm the only one in the house. I hobble over and answer, ready to send whoever it is away. I've got a pizza in the oven and I'd prefer to eat it alone and wallow in my own self pity.

Peeta stands on my doorstep.

My heart lifts and my mouth falls open. "What are you doing here?" I ask in a mixture of surprise and shock.

"They let me out early," Peeta says.

"And you came straight to me?" I ask, overwhelmed but genuinely touched.

Peeta smiles. "Of course I did. You're the first person I wanted to know I was out. Besides, you could use some cheering up after the past few days you've had."

Just seeing Peeta outside of the hospital lifts my mood impeccably. I throw myself at him, accidentally causing him to stumble backwards into the doorframe. I hold him tight, as if this is just a dream and when I wake up he'll be back at hospital after turning down help from the doctors and I'll still be pregnant but completely alone.

I let him in because it's raining and take his jacket to put on the radiator to dry. The fact that Peeta lets me take it from him without complaint shows the huge leaps in progress he has made with his doctors. Sure, I can see his ribs faintly underneath his shirt but I don't care and neither does he.

"What about your family? Don't you want them to know?" I ask, taking the lead into the living room.

"I told my dad that I wanted to see you and he was fine with it," Peeta explains.

"Does he know about . . . ?" I look down at my stomach.

Peeta shakes his head. "No. I wouldn't tell him without you expressing that you want me to. Marvel doesn't even know and he's the father so I don't have the right to say anything at all." He steps forward, still lumbered with a small limp from his once broken ribs, and lays his hand over my stomach. It's odd, how comforted I am by the gentle touch. It makes warmth seep into my blood and I grip his wrist desperately, wanting him to forever anchor me through this.

"I'm going to be a laughing stock at school," I say miserably.

"Dating me was going to make you a bit of a laughing stock anyway. They'd think you're mad," says Peeta with a wry smile.

I roll my eyes. "Don't talk like that. If they try to poke fun I'd show them where to shove it"-Peeta raises his eyebrows at me and I swallow hard-"by peacefully ignoring their jibes." Peeta grins and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin. I touch his hands which now frame my face and kiss his palms.

"Everything will be alright," Peeta tells me. "We'll get through this together."

"Do you think I can sue Marvel for tricking me?" I ask.

"I don't know if there would be much of a case in that," Peeta admits. "But it should be illegal, in my opinion."

I suddenly realize-with a great deal of embarrassment-that I am in my pyjamas. I cross my arms over my chest even though Peeta's eyes haven't travelled anywhere near my bra-less breasts because he's a gentleman. However, I'm extremely aware of the fact that my breasts are only covered by the thin material of my sleep shirt, nipples clearly visible.

Peeta keeps talking, not having noticed at all. I don't expect him to because that sort of thing probably flies right over his head but I'm still hyper aware of it now. "On my way out of the hospital, I saw these by the reception desk." Peeta pulls a bunch of pamphlets out from his back pocket and shows them to me.

Dealing with teenage pregnancy.

How to cope with underage baby carrying.

So I hear you got pregnant.

Hey, there's a baby in there!

"This one," Peeta says, pulling the last one out of the pile, "has adoption or foster care options at the back, see." He opens it open and shows me all the options I have for giving away the baby. "Unless you've decided you want to keep it?"

I shake my head. "No. I can't," I tell him. "It's not fair. Besides, can you really see me as a mother? I'm struggling to care for myself here!" I gesture to my broken leg with a flourish.

"There's still a possibility it's a hoax," Peeta helpfully says. "Sometimes the test flukes. Or you could be having a hysterical pregnancy. That's where your body shows symptoms of pregnancy, therefore fooling the test. Although that most likely only happens with women who want kids so desperately that their body changes to accommodate it."

I snort. "Yeah because that's likely."

Peeta smiles sympathetically. "Have you told Marvel yet?"

"No," I sigh reluctantly. "I know I'm going to have to but . . ."

"You want to put it off. I understand."

God, how did Peeta come to be so understanding? I don't get it. If I had been dating someone-let's say Gale or Marvel or Finnick-and they came to me saying that they got a girl pregnant, I'd hit the roof. I can easily see myself not giving them any time to explain and just throwing them out. When I told Peeta he stayed calm. He asked me questions about it before jumping to the conclusion that I'd cheated on him.

"If you want, I'll come with you when you tell him," says Peeta. "For moral support?"

"Aren't you worried he'll punch you?" I ask meekly.

Peeta laughs. "I probably should be. However I've grown accustomed to being hit. Eventually it just becomes boring."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Seriously?"

Peeta pulls a face. "Okay, not really. It still hurts like a bitch but you get my point."

The timer goes off in the kitchen. I glance over my shoulder forlornly. Even though Peeta has made improvement-so much so that he can be trusted to eat outside of the hospital-I still feel awful getting food in front of him. When I glance back, his eyebrows are raised. "Do you want me to get that for you?" he asks, his eyes dropping to my leg before bouncing back up to my eyes.

I shake my head. "No, thanks, I got this." I heave myself off the sofa and gesture for him to follow me. "Besides, I have get more exercise. My injury has caused me to become lazy. I don't want my cast to come off and for my stamina to hit the floor."

"After four years of cheerleading? I doubt it," Peeta replies.

"You'd be surprised how fast it can leave you," I say. "Especially since I'm carrying for two . . ." I shudder at the idea. "My body is going to get wrecked."

Peeta sits down at the islet while I yank my pizza out of the oven. I stare at it on the counter with a frown before throwing open one of the cupboards. "We have tomato soup in here," I tell him. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, Nurse Paylor wanted to be absolutely positive that I could go so I finished a bowl before packing to leave," Peeta explains. "Thanks, though."

I bring the pizza to the islet and sit across from him. "Well, feel free to pick at this if the notion takes you," I tell him. "I haven't eaten since yesterday but I still feel nauseated."

"As nauseated as you may feel, you still have to eat," Peeta gently reminds me. "Especially if you . . . Okay, no, let's not get into that conversation yet."

I smile and pick a green bean out of the cheese. "Are you going to homecoming tomorrow?" I ask.

"No, there's no point," Peeta replies. "I'm not officially due out of hospital until next week so I don't have to start school again until then. Besides, it'd be no fun without you there with me."

A cheesy smile grows on my face and I pop the green bean into my mouth. "Last week I thought I was the one who was going to have to go without you," I say.

"And then you decided to pick fights with people," Peeta reminds me.

I laugh and shake my head in denial. "Ah-ah that was self-defence. Ask Annie and Finch. I'd say ask Johanna but if I stabbed Cato with a knife it'd look like self-defence to her. Still, the point still stands, I was defending you, me and our honour. Too bad Snow didn't see it that way." I chew thoughtfully. "Are there ways of getting a principal fired?"

Peeta frowns. "I don't know," he says. "I suppose if enough students complained with viable evidence that said principal was corrupt it could work." He shrugs miserably. "Too bad there isn't enough of us to revolt against him."

I stop chewing. "Say that again."

"What?" asks Peeta, blinking like a deer caught in head lights. "Too bad there isn't enough of us to revolt against him?"

Revolt. That's what District High needs. A revolt. It'd be the only viable way to push Snow off his high horse. There's plenty of good reasons as to why he deserves to lose his position of power. Allowing a food chain to be fabricated among the students, solidifying a pecking order that has ruined many students' lives or greatly affected them. Favouring students involved with sports because the trophies make the school look good. Cutting a class that should be compulsory to all teenagers, causing idiots to spread rumours about how sex works, which resulted in Gropey Marvel Winters getting me fucking pregnant!

All we need are the students.

I look at Peeta, who is staring at me with concern. "Want to help me start a revolution?"

A/N: Please don't hate me for making Katniss pregnant. I just want all issues facing teenagers today to be represented in this story, including teenage pregnancy.

One more chapter left! :D