The Harvest Festival transforms our grubby little district into a scene straight out of the Capitol. Little lights are strung up around the square and bunches of corn husks tastefully accent the place. Of course, there are still the same age-worn buildings that no amount of decor can hide, but for once, there's really an air of festivity.
People dress in the cleanest clothes they own, which is a little painful because most people only own one or two nice pieces that they wear for all formal events…including the reaping.
The square is crowded with people milling about, eating and talking. If any meal screams Harvest Festival, it's the one the Capitol has provided tonight. Creamy pumpkin soups, apple tarts, and thick stews. There is squash and beans and corn, all presented in alluring display of appetizing art. The weather is the only thing that's not compliant. There's a bitter chill to the air and people bundle in sweaters and jackets to cut the wind. At the far side of the square, a group of fiddlers play an upbeat tune and many people have struck up the folk dance that goes alongside it.
I stand a little out of the way and sip a flask of hot cider to warm my insides, waiting for our victors to be presented. Not exactly on the outskirts, but not in the swing of things either. My wife and two other sons melded into the crowd a long time ago, drawn in by the unusual atmosphere. But I just can't bring myself to celebrate tonight.
Ever since the announcement of Peeta and Katniss's engagement, there's been an intense fear rooted away somewhere inside me. The knowledge that our simple, peaceful life here in Twelve may be about to change manifests in my dreams at night. It will be such a relief to have Peeta home again. Perhaps his steadiness will help to wash away these fears.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games," Mayor Undersee announces suddenly. "Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark of District Twelve!"
The doors to the Justice Building swing open to reveal our victors who are met with a great wave of applause. They are dressed in lavish furs, which are both stylish and practical considering the weather. Katniss has on a fur coat and woolen scarf draped expertly around her shoulder. Her dark hair is in its usual braid which she fiddles with absentmindedly. Peeta stands beside her, his fitted cashmere coat hugging his figure. Thanks to the rich food he's been eating on the tour, he no longer looks so emaciated.
They descend into the crowd, accepting people's congratulations and embraces. The scene is remarkably similar to that of their original homecoming.
Peeta catches sight of me and gives me a nod of recognition, but doesn't beeline for me. He just stays by Katniss, differing to her wishes. Like I could tell that he was in pain the night of the proposal, I understand now that this is not just for the audience. For whatever reason, he needs Katniss's presence more than he needs mine right now.
So he doesn't come over to greet me until Katniss drifts my way as well.
"Hey Dad," he says.
I ruffle his curls without thinking about the cameras. He ducks tactfully away, but I know he's glad to see me nonetheless.
"Hello, Katniss," I say, rather stiffly. I don't know of any recent developments in their personal relationship, but she's now my son's fiancée whether I like it or not.
She greets me, but is obviously distracted. Her eyes search the crowds, flitting from face to face.
"I saw your sister over there," I tell her, thinking that's who she's looking for. "Your mother, too."
Peeta is studying Katniss carefully. The cameramen are over by the food. They must have gotten sidetracked by the almost visible scents.
"What is it?" he asks in a hushed voice.
She shakes her head. Either she can't tell him or won't. It must be the answer that Peeta is expecting because he just sighs. I was expecting the same bubbly Katniss we saw onscreen a few nights ago, the one who giggled and was sociable. But this girl's eyes are unfocused and no amount of makeup can hide their shadows. Really, it's exhausting to try and figure Katniss out every few minutes. I wonder how Peeta can put up with it.
But he doesn't seem frustrated or impatient with her lack of forthcoming. He speaks to her very gently, like someone speaking with the mentally ill. "Do you want to go find Prim?" he asks softly, laying a hand on her fur-covered shoulder.
"I'll be right back," she promises. The cameras catch sight of her wading through the crowd and trail after.
"What's up with her?"
Peeta's eyes warn me not to say anything else. "The place looks great," he says. "The Capitol knows how to put on a party."
I don't want to engage in small talk. There's so much I want to say to him. About the engagement. About the injustice of it all. About the unrest in the districts.
"Dad," he says, a measured tone creeping into his voice.
I can't say anything too direct, not here. So I start with a seemingly innocent question. "How are you?"
"I'm alright." Peeta seems to understand what I'm getting at. "A bit tired."
"And," I glance around to make sure the cameras are still on Katniss. "How are things between-"
His eyes widen and he cuts me off. "Not here!" Peeta hisses. In a much more pleasant voice, he says, "Yes, the Capitol was wonderful."
"More so than Twelve?" I play along even though I already know the answer.
He shrugs. "Nothing can surpass the comfort of home."
The rest of the festival slides along to the tune of the fiddles. Knowing that I can't speak properly with Peeta until it's all over makes the night a bit more arduous, but I'm the only one not completely entranced. The festival has put everyone else is in really good spirits. Laughter peals across the square as people fill their bellies with the rich fare. It seems that every time a dish is running low, more appears from nowhere. Is this what it's like in the Capitol? And endless supply of parties and delicious food? Don't the galas lose their special feel if you attend them every night?
As Capitol standards go, this probably isn't an extravagant party at all. But for District Twelve, this is the holiday of the decade. People have never been so satisfied. It's amazing what full stomachs can do for the attitude. As much as it's nice to see people in such good condition, the best part comes when the crowd begins to thin and the music dies down.
When Peeta and Katniss make their final rounds and are cleared to return home, I offer to walk with my son. At last, we'll get to discuss things of worth. Out of pure paranoia, I wait until we're inside his house to speak.
"So, how was the tour?" I ask, still being careful to keep my voice down even though there's literally no one to hear.
Peeta shrugs, the fatigue beginning to creep into his features. "A strange kind of awful." He kneels at the hearth and begins to build a fire.
"And… the proposal…" I start awkwardly.
My son shakes his head. "Just part of the act. Means nothing."
"Then why was Katniss so lit up by it?"
"Search me," Peeta stokes the small flame until it blazes up, immediately warming the space.
"You're mother and I were - did you know - unrest, Peeta. The districts are thinking about rising up." It all tumbles out.
"Yeah, I know." Peeta settles himself heavily on the couch. "I think I'll sleep here tonight. Maybe finish a painting."
It's his way of dismissing me, but I'm reluctant to leave. "But Peeta-"
"At least she's talking to me again," he cuts me off. "We're on better terms now. Really, it was a mutual agreement. It's going to be okay."
This is news. It's true, Katniss and Peeta did look a bit more natural tonight. That at least, relieves some of the pain I've been carrying.
"So, you're friends again? Is she over Gale?"
Peeta shakes his head. "You don't understand how Katniss works. She's not an easy read. Most of the time, I have no idea what she's thinking or feeling. I do know that she loves Gale in her own, fractured way, but she loves me too."
"Peeta, you keep saying that, but she's given you almost no energy. How can that still be -"
He sits up straighter, giving me a harsh look to stop my words. "Katniss cares about me. I don't need any fancy words from her to know that. At the parties and on TV, it's an act, but at night when we're sleeping -" His face burns red in the firelight and he ducks his head.
It takes a moment for me to catch on to what he's saying. "You - you guys - on this tour - you slept together?"
"Not like that," he assures me quickly, still blushing like there's no tomorrow. "We just- she gets these awful nightmares and wakes up screaming. It's better when I'm there to calm her down so…"
"And she let's you?" I can't hide my shock. That enigmatic, stormy Katniss Everdeen would ever let my son share a bed with her. Especially when they've just recently rectified their frozen relationship.
He avoids meeting my eyes. "She asks me to."
On the walk back from the Victor's Village tonight, I try to understand if this new piece of information makes me feel about differently about the engagement. They're still much too young, but it seems I was wrong about them being indifferent towards each other. That must be why Peeta slept on the couch tonight. The bed upstairs was just too lonely. At least he'll have the fire for company.
The images of lonely, saddened Peeta now get brighter instead of darker when I think of Katniss. Maybe they don't love each other in the way the country thinks they do, but I guess they need each other. Really, it gives me hope for tomorrow.
I couldn't be more wrong. Because in less than a week, the square that looked so lovely the night of the Harvest Festival is no longer a square at all.
It's a torture chamber.