April 14th starts in a beautiful light. I wake up in time for breakfast, having barely slept the night before. I thought a lot about Peeta, Gale, uncle Haymitch, the Mellarks and myself, and I think I've made a decision.

Going to breakfast, I smile shyly at Peeta and he smiles at me too. We're getting careless, allowing ourselves to shoot curious glances at each other across the table. I don't care because, unbeknown to them, The Mellarks will have to deal with me for a long time.

As it is Sunday, a short morning service is held in the saloon by the Purser. I'm not one to go to church frequently, but I'm happy to join the worship. We sing Oh God Our Help in Ages Past, which is a song I learned at school. I sing it out loud, heartily and full of hope for the future, thinking of it as a sign as the opening lines seem to support my resolution. Looking at everyone around me, the mood is as bright as mine.

After the service, not many passengers want to face the bitter wind and the inner spaces are overcrowded with people. I don't know whose idea it is, but Peeta and I decide to talk a walk on the deck. The hell with everyone's opinion.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asks when we reach the promenade, tracing the dark rings under my eyes with his fingertips.

I shrug, noticing he has matching dark rings too. "Did you?"

"No. Not now that I found out I have a chance with you," he says. "Is it real, Katniss?"

"It is," I promise.

"I wonder how you'll make up your mind," he says. "But it'll be good to feel hope for a while."

I don't tell him my decision is taken, because I'm afraid of his reaction. I don't want anyone else to know it before I have a conversation with Gale. We must do this as respectfully as possible.

"But I'll be an obstacle in your life," I say. "At least in the beginning."

"Not at all," he says. "You'll be my joy."

I smile.

"What about my leg?" he asks.

"What about it?" I ask.

"You haven't seen the stump yet."

I smile. "As long as you don't take your trousers off here, I think we'll be fine."

Peeta chuckles nervously. "I'm serious."

"I'm serious too," I say. "I've known for years that your leg is missing and it doesn't change anything."

He smiles sweetly at me.

"I still can't believe this is happening," he says softly. "Can I kiss you again?"

I look around and see that no one is coming.

"All right," I say, and Peeta grins.

He cups my cheeks and presses his lips against mine, taking my upper lip very gently between his own, then doing the same to my bottom one. I have no idea of what I'm doing, but it feels exciting and I fondle his hair as he continues leading the kiss. He gently tugs my braid in response.

"This youth is lost. This would never be permitted in old times," an elderly man protests in passing.

I feel my face getting warm as we break the kiss. Peeta chuckles, but he's flushed too. He apologizes profusely to the man before throwing me an apologetic look.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I smile. "I liked it."

Peeta grins again, and then puts his hand softly around my waist while we lean at the railing to look at the hull.

"Have you noticed that the Titanic lists to the port side?" he asks, pointing down with his index finger. "Take a look at it."

I look to see if it's true. It's not pronounced but, now that he has said it, it's easy to notice.

"That's scary! It seems that the ship is going to fall to the side."

"I can assure you that she won't," Peeta chuckles. "It's quite normal in larger ships, actually."

"How do you know?"

"I like reading about shipwrecks. It has been one of my hobbies in the past few years."

"Shipwrecks? Isn't that morbid?" I ask.

Peeta shakes his head and smiles. "Not at all. What fascinates me about shipwrecks are the survival stories. The human part of it."

"Then what is the best way to survive a sinking?"

"I don't know. It always seems to be a matter of chance," he smiles. "But there's nothing to worry about. You are Katniss Everdeen, you would survive anything. I'm not very lucky with these things, so I'd be doomed anyway."

"That's where we disagree. I think you're incredibly lucky to have survived that accident."

"That I am," Peeta says softly, examining my braid with his hands. "You know… I find your reaction incredibly sweet when I make fun of my leg."

"Why?" I chuckle. "I hate it."

"It shows me that you care about me," he says matter-of-factly.

"Because you're much more than that. I hate it when you demean yourself; it reduces you to a stupid accident."

He grins and hugs me.

"I'll be much more than that," he promises. "Just give me time to get used to the idea."

I grin back at him.

"Oh, there you are," Graham says with a confused frown, showing up behind us together with Rye, who raises his eyebrows. "Where have you been? Everyone is looking for you."

To say his voice startles us is an understatement. They have watched us as Peeta held me in his arms and we grinned at each other. We get as far from each other as we can. I mumble something and walk away from them.

Maybe it's good that they start to suspect it. The shock won't be as intense when they find out I'm going to follow them.

I walk for a while and then stop, looking down astern from B deck to the steerage quarters. Third-class passengers enjoy a skipping game while a Scotchman plays with a bagpipe. They seem to have a lot of fun; most of them laugh and shout in amusement. They are the Titanic equivalent to the Seam people, while we are the equivalent to the merchant class. No one in this ship looks as amused as they are. Once or twice their banter makes me smile and they wave at me with satisfaction.

I decide to refresh myself before lunch, so I make my way back to use the elevator. But, before I get inside, I hear a familiar voice on the deck.

"You're asking for trouble."

I had expected them to be in the library or their cabins, and not together where I had left them. I would know their voices anywhere, but a quick glance confirms the three ashy blond heads of the Mellark brothers. Something makes me guess that they are talking about me.

"We know you like her," I hear Rye say, and I know I guessed right. I'm not usually a person who resorts to eavesdropping, but this is not a personal conversation. It is something about me, so I deserve to know it.

Peeta chuckles in response. "I may have, but that was before I spoke to her. She's a piece of work, and she doesn't look particularly pretty now that I've seen her closer."

My hand covers my mouth to contain a gasp. There must be a mistake, Peeta isn't cruel.

"Then why were you so intimate with her?" I hear Graham ask. "It's disgusting, she's engaged."

Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively.

"That's Gale Hawthorne's problem, not mine."

I feel my heart shatter in a million pieces as the extent of Peeta's words begins to dawn on me. I have to walk away. I can't listen to it anymore.

I'm in no condition to take the elevator and face the kind boy who works there and always wants to make conversation, so I walk down the stairs and through the beehive of compartments. I'm so stupid to let Peeta Mellark fool me with his gentle attentions. How he must have laughed at me after last night!

I burst into my cabin and open my suitcase to take the cookie package that Peeta gave me a couple of days ago. I've been saving it next to Prim's picture as a treasure, a present from a special person, but now I know it's nothing but a poisoned gift designed to lure me. No, not even designed to lure me; of course he didn't bake them for me. I'm sure they were just stale cookies that the Mellarks felt too disgusted to eat. I'm so stupid. How needy I must be to fall for that!

Very confused, Johanna tries to reason with me and grabs me by the arm, but I ignore her.

Trying to retain a calm and collected façade, I go back to the freezing cold deck and lean against the railing. Luckily, the Mellarks are nowhere to be seen anymore. I stand lifeless for a while, watching the sea through the clouds that are forming in my eyes as I fight against the tears. When my breathing gets regular, I open the cookie package slowly and with trembling hands. One by one, I watch as the cookies fall to the ocean, slowly, lightly, some of them cracking against the hull, until they disappear from sight. With them goes a piece of me. I can't believe I'm crying over stale biscuits on the biggest ship of the world.

The few people that walk around me must think I'm crazy, but I don't care. Worse things have happened to me. That I've disgraced myself is one of them. I'll have to tell Gale about the kiss and there's a good chance he'll abandon me. I'm not sure if I can find a job right away and I don't have Peeta as an ally anymore. All my hope of survival rests now on my uncle Haymitch Abernathy, who will probably send me away as soon as he knows who my father was.

I keep reminding myself that this is my fault.

Going back to my cabin, I find Johanna sitting on her berth with a book in her hands. I must look dreadful, because she jumps to hold me right away.

"You look disheveled!" she exclaims. "Let me help you."

"Did you love him?" I ask her, referring to her husband.

"Oh, Brainless," she says, taking me in her arms.

Johanna doesn't ask me any question and, minutes later, when she goes to lunch, she promises me she will tell our companions that I'm feeling too ill to attend.

I lie on my bed but I can't rest. I consider my options in the case Gale abandons me and I can't find a job. There are not many. Perhaps Gale will still want me if I say I didn't initiate the kiss. I may even elect to say nothing at all. That's it, I won't tell him anything for now.

Johanna comes back later with some bread she grabbed at lunch, for which I'm grateful.

The afternoon passes in a blur. I get out of my cabin about an hour before dinner and decide to take a walk on the promenade. I look down astern from B deck to the steerage quarters like this morning. The third class passengers are still having fun. This time, I notice someone who stands out in the crowd: a young man, about my age, who stands alone and aloof, nicely groomed, visibly out of place and looking very unhappy. I wonder what his problem is, but then I realize I must look exactly like him.

I don't know why I do it but, when his eyes meet mine, I wave at him. He may be in need of kindness. He's utterly astonished at first, but then he laughs and waves as well. That's my only interaction with the stranger, but it makes me smile. I don't look at him again, though, because I don't want him to get the wrong idea.

"I can't believe it!" I suddenly hear behind me. I know the voice; it's the same voice that, a few hours ago, I thought was going to accompany me for a long time in the future.

My insides twist in longing and disgust as I take a deep breath. I won't confront him. People who use others thrive both in good and bad attention. I'll behave in a dignified manner instead.

I turn and see Peeta smiling sweetly at me, with those lips that will never be mine again.

"I thought you were feeling ill," he says, offering me his hand.

"I was," I say with a faint smile, admiring the strong, manly hand he's offering.

"I missed you so much. Do you feel better now?" he asks.

"A new woman," I reply. "Actually, I was about to leave."

I start walking away.

"Katniss, wait!"

I look back and see him staring at me with a confused frown.

"I'll see you at dinner," I smile, leaving much faster than I know he can walk.

I know he doesn't try to follow me because I don't hear the sound of the crutch against the pavement.

I walk quickly across the promenade to get out of his reach, fighting the urge to scream or vomit. Maybe I would feel better if Peeta showed me his true personality, but he keeps playing nice. I'll act in the same way; I'm just not ready for that yet.

"Katniss, are you blind?" a familiar voice asks.

I turn to look at Rye. He's grinning at me as if he had never sat there, listening while his brother insulted me hours before. I didn't hear Rye insult me, though, so I'll give him that. There's no need for me to hate Rye.

"Oh," I say. "I was distracted."

"Clearly," he says, offering me his arm.

We walk through the promenade, talking about the weather and pointing out several pieces of ice floating in the ocean. Rye inquires about my health, since I've missed lunch, and says they were all very worried about me. I think they are just concerned about the goose that lays the golden egg, but perhaps I'm being unfair.

Unfortunately, we find Peeta at the exact same place where I left him.

"Little brother," Rye exclaims. "Look at who I found."

Peeta looks at me with hurt in his eyes. What a pretender! The three of us sit on a bench while Rye talks to me.

"What do you want us to give you as a wedding gift?"

"Oh," I say. "Were you invited?"

"But of course," he replies. "We all were."

"I see," I say absently. "I don't want anything."

"That can't be, it would be rude," Rye says.

"Buy me a riffle then. I really want to have one."

"If I give you a riffle will you reserve a dance for me?"

I laugh.

"No, I'll dance with Gale," I say. This is how I'm letting Peeta know I don't want him. "I may be persuaded to dance with my brothers-in-law, but no one else. Besides, it's the perfect chance for you to find your rich bride."

"Now, that's an idea."

"Although as a good boy you should dance with your mother mostly," I say.

"You think?"

"Yes, girls love that," I say. "Then you present them to your mother and she'll do the rest."

To get the girls rid of Rye, of course. Peeta snorts.

"Are the two of you laughing at me?" Rye smiles amusedly, pretending he hasn't known it from the beginning. He turns to Peeta. "I thought you were trying to make yourself invisible. My baby brother is fooling you, Katniss. He's not usually this quiet."

"He's got me fooled really well," I say, and Peeta smiles at me.

"Graham is the quiet one," Rye says. "Peeta is –"

"Shut up," says Peeta. "Don't involve me in your stuff."

In this I agree with Peeta: I don't want to know what he is.

"What are you?" I ask Rye.

"The good-looking one," Rye replies matter-of-factly. Peeta and I laugh at that. "Now you must tell us who your favorite Mellark is."

I look at the two of them; both seem curious to know the answer. However, while Rye eyes me expectantly, Peeta doesn't seem to look at me; he seems fearful.

"Your father," I reply. "He's the best one by far."

Rye chuckles. "No, the best brother."

I frown at that. There isn't really a lot of competition; I'll always choose the decent one. "Easy, it's Graham," I reply.

It's true; Rye and Peeta are a pair of flirts, but Graham is not. He adores Delly Cartwright, whoever she is. Rye shakes his head.

"You're just being mean! You chose him because he's not here," he says.

"That's not why I chose him. And why can't he be? He's Delly's favorite too." I say. "Are you anyone's favorite?"

Rye giggles with an air of shock.

"That was low, Katniss," he replies. "If only you knew."

"It's probably better that I don't," I say, and turn to Peeta. "And you? Are you anyone's favorite?" I ask dryly, hoping to reduce him to his insignificance.

Of course he's no one's favorite; he's been closed in his house for years.

Peeta shrugs.

"A train got out of its way to meet me, once," he replies sardonically. "It chose me out of many people."

I seethe when he talks about the accident once again, but I stop my scowl before it shows. Peeta knows I hate the jokes about his leg; he's doing it on purpose to provoke a reaction. I wonder what I could say that would shock him instead of producing the result he wants.

I dislike the defiance I see in his eyes; I don't know why it makes me so angry. My question was aggressive and hurtful and Peeta gave me the answer I deserved for that.

"So I'm glad I'll never be next to you at a train station again," I say with the same defiance, this time in my voice. "You must be very special if even trains want to claim a piece of you."

Upon hearing my answer, Peeta frowns and Rye looks confused. I feel embarrassed for matching his darkness with more darkness.

"I should go," I say, and don't wait for an answer.

Rye rushes after me as I walk quickly and drives me as far away as possible.

"That was the oddest interaction I've ever witnessed," he says, wide-eyed.

Rye doesn't understand that the root of our problem is much deeper than this sole interaction. Being called me a piece of work and not pretty is hurtful enough, but I'm really aggravated at the way I was dismissed as Gale's problem.

"Do you think I was rude?"

"No," he replies. "But no one has ever replied to Peeta like that."

"Maybe you all coddle him too much," I say. "He's not a baby."

"He has gone through a lot, Katniss."

Somehow, people seem to think that is a good reason to let him get away with everything. The poor crippled boy can do no wrong.

"He's still a person like any other," I say. "Have you ever seen an amputee like him walking with one crutch only? And this fast?"

Rye seems to consider it.

"I had never thought of it in that way."

"He says those things to test our reaction," I say. "You must stop believing him, or he'll believe it himself."

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into this," he says. "Do you care for him?"

"I'm just speaking my mind," I say. "This is what I would do if I had a brother in his situation. He's your problem, not mine."

"You two seemed very friendly this morning," Rye says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I snort.

"Do we seem friendly to you?"

Rye nods. "You seem close enough that you don't refrain from speaking your mind to him anymore."

I could deny it, but I don't want Rye to mention the hug he witnessed this morning.

"I do care about him, but not in the way you think," I say.

I tell him about my close call with death at eleven years old, about the bread Peeta burnt to feed me and the beating he took as a consequence.

"He was a good boy," I say. "It's just disappointing to see how he has turned out to be."

Rye frowns.

"What do you mean, Katniss? He's still a good boy."

"I mean that now he's a big flirt, like you. Really, Rye. Does anyone truly fall for it?"

I did fall for Peeta's lies, but I won't ever admit it. I need to take this chance to deflect the subject and save my reputation after their conversation this morning.

Rye chuckles. "I don't know what kind of talk he has had with you, but I swear that he's not a flirt. Have you considered that he may have unrequited feelings for you?"

I laugh.

"No," I lie. "All I have considered is that he wallows in self-pity and you enable him. I think that's what brought you here, isn't it?"

"Well… Yes. What you said made sense," Rye says. "That he's testing our reaction."

"I think it's the same with you," I add. "You pretend to be this person to provoke a certain reaction and, when people believe in what you say, you believe that's your true personality too. You're fine, but I think the real you must be much more interesting."

I walk away before he has the chance to reply.

After dinner we, along with about one hundred other people, take part in a hymn sing-song in the second class saloon, assisted by a gentleman on a piano. I know many of the songs and singing them brings me a fleeting moment of joy. The singing goes on until after ten o'clock and then we are served biscuits and coffee before we retreat to our cabins.

People approach me to praise my voice, to which Mr. Mellark, seeing my embarrassment, remarks amusedly:

"It runs in her family. When her father sang, even the birds stopped to listen."

I grin because it's true.

"Did you know my father well?" I ask him.

"Not too well. We went to school together but we never talked. I got to know him better when he started trading with my parents. And then -"

Mr. Mellark doesn't finish his thought, but smiles at me. I remember the times my father and I would trade with the kind baker, and that my father trusted and appreciated him, as I do now.

While Peeta eyes me curiously from the other side of the table, Rye approaches me.

"Aren't you angry with me?" I ask him.

"Should I be?" Rye smiles.

"Maybe," I say. "I would be."

"I don't have a temper," he says, sitting next to me. "Do you truly want to know me better?"

I don't understand. Is he trying to seduce me based on what I said hours ago?

"Is this some kind of game?" I ask with a frown.

"Hell, no," he exclaims. "But I think I gave you a bad impression of me, and I want to show you that our family is not that bad."

"All right," I sigh. "What do you want to share?"

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said and I think we're more similar than you think."

I laugh. "Oh my God. How is that?"

Rye grins.

"You use your wit to deflect your fears, like you said Peeta and I do," he says.

I snort. "What?"

He shrugs proudly, probably thinking he has successfully deciphered me. "You're not the only mind reader here."

I shrug too. "Right. What do you fear then?"

"Calm down. It's still early for us to be that intimate, isn't it?" he giggles. "Although I can tell you if you tell me too."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Tell you what?" I ask.

"Admit that you like my brother."

I look at Peeta on the other side of the table, talking to Graham. Apparently he hasn't heard a thing Rye said.

"Where does that come from?" I ask.

"You said Graham is your favorite. It's a lie. He's too tedious for you."

"He's not!" I reply. "He's just confident enough to be quiet when he wants to. That irks many people, but I like it. And he loves Delly, it's really sweet."

"I see," Rye rolls his eyes. "Well, it brings me to my conclusion anyway."

"Oh."

"Graham can't be your favorite Mellark. It's curious that you didn't choose Peeta after he saved your life in the way you say he did."

"I don't think I understand. I suppose you asked it as a joke…?"

"If you didn't say Peeta's name in a heartbeat, then you're hiding something," Rye says. "You're hiding your feelings for him."

I shake my head.

"Do you realize I'm engaged and this conversation is not proper?"

"Engaged is not married," Rye murmurs.

"I thought you wanted me to know you better, not to listen to your stupid theories," I reply.

"Yes. Well. We'll have plenty of time to know each other, little sister," Rye smiles kindly. "I don't know what's going on with the two of you right now, but I see you know each other well. You must have had lots of meetings such as the one this morning."

He stands up to go away.

"You can't just say that and leave," I say.

"I'm doing just that," he replies with a grin. "It makes a bigger impact."

Rye kisses my hand unabashedly and leaves me to talk to other people.

A while later, when Peeta approaches me, I'm still scowling at Rye.

Peeta looks miserable; there's no hint of the happy young man I kissed last night and this morning. He must have realized my shift in behavior.

"Will I see you at midnight?" Peeta asks tentatively.

"I don't think so," I say. "I didn't sleep last night."

His eyes turn down slowly in disappointment.

"I think I understand," he says. "I'll be there in case you change your mind."

"I'll consider it," I lie.