14. Unexpected Announcements

I grip the robe tightly around myself and gulp back the embarrassment. I can literally feel the blood rising to my cheeks as Plutarch, Effie, Haymitch and Gale look back at me in bewilderment. Only Peeta is standing near the oven and eyeing me with an unreadable expression.

For a moment no one speaks and then Plutarch, wearing a bright red jacket and clearly oblivious to the ridiculousness of my entrance trills out agreeably "Yes! And also, myself, Effie, Gale, and Haymitch! It's a pleasure to see you again, Katniss!" And he crosses the short space and grips me up into a bear hug that lifts me off the ground.

"Wh-what…are you all doing here?" I ask, smoothing back my hair as I try to recall whether or not I even washed my face last night.

"We're here to escort you, of course!" Plutarch says but the friendly hesitation in his voice is matched by the look he gives as he glances at both Peeta and Haymitch.

"To escort me?" I say extremely confused, and I also look to Haymitch who offers no answer and Peeta, who still wears the unreadable look.

"Yes…For the ball." Gale says, and his look is definitely readable; he's annoyed. Likely put off by my entrance, my overjoyed screeching for Peeta. I can't really blame him because I'm definitely annoyed with myself.

"What ball?" I ask and I manage to awkwardly seat myself on the kitchen stool, still gripping the robe. I have no idea where the belt is. Haymitch is making some crazy motion with his finger across his neck, but I don't understand it and then Plutarch stares at Haymitch incredulously.

"You didn't tell her?! You said you would! You swore by the seal of the Mockingjay!" Plutarch squeals and he looks as if he's been slapped in the face.

"First of all I never wanted to swear by anything; you said it I just agreed." Haymitch drawls in a tired tone, "Second, I just never got around to it. I guess I thought she'd see it for herself on the news or that her good old, trusted fiancé here would let her know." Haymitch motions towards Peeta and I see the slight jerk of Peeta's head. Haymitch knows better than to say this, so I think that he must be sober again. He always becomes crass when he's sober. Well, more crass than usual.

I have the urge to argue with him, tell everyone here that Peeta is not now, nor has he ever been my fiancé. Not in real life. But, as I glance at Peeta and see his blue eyes focused on the fresh buns that he could surely remove from the pan without staring so hard, I realize that he has suffered enough. Besides, everyone in this room knows the truth. Or at least, as much of the truth as I know. Peeta was never truly my fiancé…but what was he?

From nowhere, I hear Peeta's voice a hoarse whisper, "We haven't really talked."

"…About that." I add quickly and Peeta looks up at me in disbelief. With my eyes I am trying to communicate with him without words. They don't have to know that we aren't friends anymore. They don't all have to know that we aren't speaking. But Peeta either doesn't understand my meaning or just chooses to ignore me and says in a steady voice laced with low anger that I am sure is meant for me.

"No. About anything. We haven't talked. Period." The room is silent and Peeta's blue eyes seem almost vacant as he seethes at me angrily. I notice the knife in his hand, and my mind drifts to the days when Peeta wanted to kill me. The days after President Snow hijacked his mind and stole him from me, making him hate me and even think me inhuman. And I feel that odd feeling of fear, similar to the lingering fear that I felt for Gale earlier, but worse, because this fear could easily be realized. It is the fear that Peeta might leap across the counter and plunge the knife into me.

"Well…" Gale says and Peeta and I both break away from staring at one another and look at him, "We're all talking now, so let's explain it to her." Gale walks over and sits on the stool beside me. As he casually swipes the hair from my face, I can't help but wonder if he is trying to taunt Peeta. I've always hated the way being in a room with the two of them feels. Even in my thoughts, they have never coexisted.

"The Capitol is holding the first annual Freedom Ball. It's in honor of the winning of the war and the uniting of the districts." As Gale continues to speak, I instantly want to protest, but I cannot. It is trivial, but I can't help but to be pleased by the name that it is being called. The Freedom Ball. Unlike our forced victory tour, where Peeta and I rode around celebrating the fact that we had survived while the other 22 tributes died, this sounds like something that is announcing the state of all people in our society for the first time in as long as I've lived: free. "So, of course, everyone in this room is expected to attend." Gale finishes.

Now, I go back to being myself, the obstinate girl from the Seam, as my voice comes out incredulous saying to no one in particular "What about the rest of the people?! They deserve to go too!"

"Oh, everyone is invited!" Effie says happily waving her hands around to convey everyone. "Everyone, everyone, everyone!" She chirps and following the wave of her hands, I see that her bright purple wig does not match her red dress, but the shoes are purple which is meant to be the connection. Somehow, I doubt that Cinna would approve.

"But of course, not everyone will make it." Plutarch chimes, with a pleased nod "Which I must say is a good thing because so many people piling in a banquet hall wouldn't make for much of a ball. More like a bunch of people squeezed swaying together in a single move." At his words I think of the people in the square yesterday and the thought of a large crowd only makes me smile. But Plutarch shudders and I hear Effie gasp in a fashion that is almost comedic.

I am slightly confused as Plutarch rushes to Effie's side patting her shoulder soothingly "It's okay, my dear, it's alright. We know that they cannot all attend, don't we?"

"Yes, but the very thought! So many people crowding the room and spilling into the streets so that no one can even move! The very thought of such an unbecoming spectacle!" Effie shrills and then she seems to almost convulse as though this is the worst thing that has happened in recent years. I watch as Plutarch lightly strokes her left hand which seems to glimmer. I blink noting that Effie is wearing a grotesquely large diamond ring around the finger on her left hand. Her wedding finger, I realize and all of sudden it hits me, and I can barely get out the words

"Effie...you're married? To Plutarch?!" I don't mean to sound as stunned as I do, but I can't help it. How did this happen? When? And how did I not know?

"But of course." Effie says with her classic indignity "As soon as the war was over." She smiles at Plutarch bashfully before tsking lightly and saying to me admonishingly. "Katniss? You really should learn to control your excited utterances. After all, you're not the only one who's allowed to have a star-crossed lover you know!" At the sound of her words, I feel an urgent frustration and I leap up pushing the stool back. At the same time, I hear Peeta flinging down what I can only assume is the spatula and we shout in unison "We were never star-crossed lovers!" Our eyes meet momentarily and then I stare down at the counter in front of me.

Gale is staring at me intently; I can feel him. Peeta, however, is apparently even more frustrated than I am and he quickly rushes past everyone in the room without another word and I hear the sound of my front door slamming.

The Freedom Ball is important. Very important, Effie says. While the others leave my house to head into town, Effie stays and goes on and on about the hope that the ball will bring to the districts. It will be the first thing to be simultaneously telecast in every District, since the Quarter Quell, and so there are high expectations. And she is very persistent in telling me that people will be expecting to see the key freedom fighters there; myself, Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, of course the other remaining victors and President Paylor who will host it. After about 20 minutes of her repeated insistence that it is extremely important that I go, I agree that I will be there, but I quietly note that someone has certainly told Effie to be sure that I attend. Possibly Haymitch. Most likely, Haymitch.

Back in my bedroom, I at first try to pack my own clothes, but Effie's gasps of shock and horror at every pair of pants and solid colored shirt that I remove from the closet finally unnerves me to the point that I step back saying with a laugh "Fine. You do it."

Effie immediately leaps forward and is snatching nearly every color that my closet holds except for the one gown that I decide I really want to wear. But I can't bring myself to say it to her. Not like I could to Cinna, so I wait patiently for her to finish packing the bag. She stuffs the large brown case with outfit after outfit that I surely don't need, and shoe after shoe that I can't possibly wear.

After an hour Effie finally finishes looks over at me and says, "We are leaving in the morning, Katniss, bright and early." Which, I know seeing as how Haymitch will be going with us, really means we'll leave no earlier than late noon. As Effie leaves out tugging the bag behind her, I quickly rush over to the closet and rummage through the numerous remaining gowns that Cinna designed, until I find the one I'm looking for. I touch it for just a moment, smiling lightly, as my fingers trace the designs, before I stuff it into a small green cotton bag, and suddenly I feel more excited about the Freedom Ball than I've felt about anything, in a long, long time.