Chapter 16-
Peeta has to turn off all the stoves and ovens in his kitchen before he leaves his house, so I stand at the door waiting. I know exactly what I want us to do. To celebrate being friends.
He shrugs on a thick jacket before I take his arm. He looks surprised at this contact, but doesn't pull away. "Let's go," he says.
I release his arm when we start walking through Victor's Village. Its still mid-afternoon and the cool air is tempered by the warm sun. I walk purposefully with Peeta following behind, his feet scuffing in the dirt.
"Where are we going?" he asks.
"The Hob," I say. He looks at me, puzzled. But he doesn't argue or ask why. His feet just keep moving.
As we walk through town, people stop their work and begin to stare at us. To Peeta, its nothing to worry about. He simply smiles easily and ignores the questioning gazes around him. But for me, its distracting. I feel like I am being judged for walking with Peeta. What is so interesting about a Mockingjay with broken wings and the baker?
The stares are getting to me. Burning into my neck. My face. From all directions. I grit my teeth. I guess its to be expected, being the face of the rebellion and the co-star of two Hunger Games. But my walk with Peeta no longer feels private.
Peeta must understand because his arm brushes mine as he moves to walk next to me. Close but not touching. The action is comforting. We walk through the staring eyes together, not even bothering to confront anyone.
When we reach the place I want to be, I stop in the middle of the road. I turn to face Peeta who is looking at me expectantly.
People stream in and out of the dark building. Sharp white lights are temporarily fixed along the ceiling beams of the structure as men hoist themselves up on the roof and fix large metal sheets to form a roof. The preparation for the snow day is evident as they scramble around like ants from an anthill. The Hob, burnt down long ago, is rising from the ashes, flourishing with new life. I can see the merchants conducting business with the people below, readily selling goods or stubbornly bartering.
As I stare at the construction of the Hob, I feel different from when I looked at it before. When it was just a pile of charred planks and ashes. Its different now. Despite the odds, and after so much destruction, it comes back stronger than before. I know what I want to say to Peeta now.
"Did you need to buy supplies for supper, Katniss?" Peeta sounds puzzled as to why I am standing there, just watching as the citizens of District 12 go about their daily business.
I take a deep breath, then begin.
"See these people?" I ask.
Peeta nods. His eyes flicker over to where some children run out of the Hob, laughing and chasing each other until their mother emerges from the Hob and scolds them.
There's that small detail again. That Peeta wants kids and I don't. I decide to put it off and ignore it for now. Its important to get this out there. Its important that he hears me.
"They're rebuilding, Peeta. Despite being torn down, reduced to nothing, losing everything, they're building it back up."
He looks confused. Understandably. All I've done is state the obvious.
"Its nice, Katniss." He says finally. He's looking out at the people again, trying to figure out what I'm telling him. Or perhaps he thinks I'm deranged for dragging him out here to show him this. But I'm not done.
The next part comes out in a rush.
"I want that. To be us. To rebuild ourselves. Together." His head snaps around and those blue eyes lock on mine as I struggle with my words. I can feel my face heat up, but I force myself not to look away.
He doesn't speak for a long moment and I'm beginning to grow uncomfortable as it stretches between us. Does he understand what I mean? I can only hope that he feels the same way. We just agreed to be friends, but can we really help fix each other and heal from our experiences? The experiences that we shared?
"Okay," Peeta says. When I stare at him, taking in what he says, he continues as if he feels obligated to explain.
"We can't fix this with boards and nails, like the Hob. But we can with each other."
"Each other." I echo, feeling a small smile finally grace my lips.