Chapter Text
It’s different being home. The new houses are big and strange. But Gale’s room is right across from mine, and there is a large tree between them. When we moved in, Peeta had pointed it out and said, “You’re beyond front doors.”
Sleeping alone is hard, but I try. Prim sleeps in our mother’s bed. I know Rory and Vick share a bed, and Posy still sleeps with Hazelle. There are so many extra bedrooms because no one is used to sleeping without the sound of someone else’s breath. And Gale has Peeta now. Peeta had already moved his things into the house the day before we came home, and no one talks about it. On the second night, I dream that Rue wasn’t tied to the tree and that she fell when she was killed and fell on top of me. Her blood spurted from her neck over my face. I wake up screaming, and Gale slides into my bed, saying, “It’s just a dream. I’m here. We’re home. Go back to sleep.”
“What about Peeta?” I ask.
“Peeta’s fine,” he says, curling around me. “Go back to sleep.” And I do.
We don’t get out of our beds the first few days we’re home. Greasy Sae brings us soup on the first night. There’s no meat in it, but it’s delicious. She smiles at me fondly and says she’s glad we’re home. I promise we’ll start bringing meat soon, but I can’t stand for long enough to hunt.
My mother knocks on my door on the second day, and when I call for her to come in, she smiles at me and opens my window. She has a handful of small stones and throws them at Gale’s window one by one until he opens it, saying, “Hey, Catnip. Oh, hello, Mrs. Everdeen.”
“We need to talk about what’s been happening to you and how to help it.”
She makes a list of everything: the dizziness, the faintness, the headaches, the vomiting, the aches, the weakness, the tremors, the exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. She asks about our states of mind, and Gale shakes his head, “Who knows? We just came out of the arena. What’s caused by the poison, and what’s just the Games?”
Later that day, my mother brings a glass into my room and says, “Try this. It will taste horrible.”
I drink it all, even though it’s awful. It takes a while, but it works a little. It causes a weird ringing in my ears, though. She changes the mixture a lot, and after a few days, I can stand for longer periods. It takes time. The headaches are gone, and I don’t ache as much. Gale’s color improves, and we start going through the fence again.
We go to our old houses and change into hunting clothes; for a while, we can pretend our lives are our own. But we’re hunting during what should be school hours. Gale’s classmates start working in the mines and making requests of marriage to one another. Our lives are nothing like the ones our old peers are living; nothing like ours would have been if we had never been in the Games. Some of it is good. Gale is nowhere near the mines that make him edgy, and I would make a terrible wife.
Hunting itself is different. We have to stop frequently. We don’t get as dizzy or faint frequently anymore, but Gale still vomits at least once a day. It rarely hits him when he’s close to a bathroom. It’s always when we’re out in the woods, and he has to sit with his head between his knees for a while afterward. I don’t vomit as often, but when I do, it’s not surprising. I never feel entirely well anymore. And neither of us gains much weight. We still sleep a lot; we still get shakes, and neither of us can carry much.
It’s better just to be outside the fence because sometimes it’s hard to speak to the people we know and love. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming, and we’re still in the arena.
We go to the Justice Building and buy a merchant’s license and a store. It’s the building where my mother’s parents’ apothecary was. It’s large and has a four-bedroom apartment. That matters; the kids will always have a warm place to call home. Our mothers clean and stock it, and the sign outside reads “Everdeen and Hawthorne” without any description. Everyone knows what they do, and even if some in the district hadn’t known what they did before the Games, they learned it from our conversations in the arena. Though the store isn’t running yet, but I worry less about the children’s futures.
We teach the kids snares in Gale’s kitchen every day after they get home from school. We take them to the meadow and teach them plants. We start sneaking Prim, Vick, and Rory out to the forest with us. Vick and Prim use the child-size bow, while Rory uses mine. Their aim isn’t great, but they try. They’ll get better. We have time before the reaping. They’re in training for the Hunger Games because neither Gale nor I can volunteer for them now.
I think Gale teaches Peeta when they’re alone. I know he and Peeta go outside the fence, but I don’t ask. If he wants to tell me, he will. We’re not on camera, and he’s allowed his privacy if he wants. I notice that I need to adjust my string more frequently.
Only a few months ago, Gale would never have let someone use my bow without asking me, not even Peeta, but then the arena happened. He’ll never need to ask if he can use my bow, as he never needed to ask to share my sister’s cheese or my water bottle. It is all communal property. He doesn’t need to ask my permission to train his young man for the Games.
On a purely food level, we show the children where all the caches of good plants are outside the fence, and Gale shows them how to make nets to cover them. They’re useful and carry a lot for us. We start bringing a lot of food back through the fence with us and drop it all off at the Hob, in the Seam and at the bakery.
I run into Darius in the Hob. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the train, even though it’s been over a month. I pull a rabbit from my bag, and he reaches for his wallet. “No,” I say. “You helped feed the kids. You’ve already paid.”
He smiles and says, “I’m still holding you to that promise of a walk, Miss Everdeen.”
“Okay,” I agree.
Gale and I now eat lunch, not breakfast, on the rock ledge where we always met. We start our days later than we used to, and there’s always enough food in the house not to need to scavenge our breakfast. One afternoon, while eating sandwiches and strawberries and drinking my mother’s horrible concoction, Gale says, “We need to start spending money.”
“What?” I ask.
“When we die the money stops. But if we spend it now, it will still be in the district when we’re dead. We need to flood 12 with money.”
We trade nothing and buy everything with silver coins. Using money in the market is illegal because no one has a merchant license, but coins are so helpful, and we’ve never followed the law. We pay three times what we once would have but never haggle. The people in the Hob seem to understand our plan and give us prices they would never ask of anyone, not even the merchants. It isn’t greed; it’s simply pragmatic. I see people lowering their old prices when trading with each other, and it all balances out. It’s nice to think we can help our friends and make life easier for everyone.
However, when Gale asks what the book man wants for a book, and he says, “It’s cheap for fourteen coins,” Gale blinks.
Gale says, “Don’t treat me like an idiot.” It should, at most, cost four coins. “I grew up in this building. Rephrase it.”
The man says, “For you, Gale, it’s fourteen coins.”
Gale laughs and hands the money over. Thanking the man, Gale puts the book in his bag. We frequently have another meal in the Hob mid-afternoon, soup from Greasy Sae’s. We eat on the counter and talk to our friends. That’s when it’s the easiest to pretend nothing has changed — though we pay with coins, they always talk about the same stuff we’ve always talked about. We still don’t gain much weight, and I wonder if the nightlock did something to change our metabolisms.
My sleep deteriorates, and my mother adds something to her treatment that actually makes it worse. I sleep through the night with visions of pain and suffering going through my head. Some are memories, and some are just imagined. I wake up in the morning drenched in sweat and tears, feeling more tired than I was when I went to bed.
It’s been five weeks when Darius knocks on my door one morning, a little while after Prim and the others have gone to school. It was a particularly rough night, and I’m only half awake. There’s something strange in his eyes.
He looks anxious as he says, “I’m holding you to your promise, Miss Everdeen.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Two o’clock?”
“Two o’clock,” I agree.
“I’ll bring a picnic as a late lunch.”
“Okay,” I repeat. He leaves quickly, and as I shut the door, I see my mother in the living room. “I’m going on a walk… what do you wear on a walk? Do you have to wear a dress? I don’t want to wear a dress.”
She’s silent for a few moments and then says, “If he liked you before the Games then I don’t think you need a dress. What about your pale suede pants and one of your darker silk blouses? That would look very nice, very pretty, and be much more comfortable.”
The phone rings, and I reach for it, glad for the distraction. I answer it with the greeting that the people who call me always use: “Ahoy.”
“Ahoy,” says Cinna.
“Hi, Cinna,” I take the phone to my room, and as I shut the door, I say, “I’m going on a walk.”
“Oh, were you headed out the door?”
“No, I mean, I’m going on a walk with Darius. A date, isn’t that what you call them?” I think the phones are listened to, and I would never mention that he’s not from the Capitol.
“Oh, a walk! What are you wearing?” I tell him what my mother suggested. “Very nice. You should ask your mother to do a nice braid.”
“No, I think I’ll just do it myself.”
“What happened to forgiving her and trusting her to help?”
“She’s been treating Gale and me for the poison. But I really don’t need help to braid my hair.”
“Alright. Are you excited about your walk?”
“Actually I feel nervous.”
He sounds shocked when he says, “Why, Katniss? He’s your friend.”
“That’s why… I don’t have many friends, Cinna. And I don’t want to upset that. I’ve never been on a walk and I like Darius.”
“That’s exactly why you should go for a walk with him.”
“You don’t go for a walk, you go on a walk,” I correct him without thinking. Then I add, “But what if I ruin it?”
“You won’t,” he promises, “he’s your friend.”
“I hope so. Why did you call? It wasn’t to talk to me about my walk.”
“I wanted to talk to you about your hobby. Have you figured it out yet? I wanted to get started on your clothes. If your hobby could be worked into the clothes that would be good.”
“I don’t have a hobby. I sleep and eat. Can you work those into the clothes?”
“You have plenty of time to figure out a hobby. I’d suggest fashion but I — and the whole country — know you aren’t interested.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Why don’t you take a bath? You might feel better.”
“I wish he’d sprung it on me. I’ve got too much time to think about it now.”
“Go find Gale. He’ll calm you down.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
“And, Katniss?” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Darius likes you.”
“I know.”
“Relax,” he orders.
I laugh, “I’ll try.”
I hang up and look at Gale’s window. His curtains are shut. I’ve followed my mother’s example and now keep a pile of little stones on my sill. I throw them one at a time at his window. He opens the curtains, and I see he’s shirtless, with his hair a mess, holding an apple. “We’re not supposed to go out to the meadow for another hour.”
“I’m going on a walk with Darius at two.”
“He couldn’t have made it a more convenient time?” asks Gale, biting into the apple.
“I didn’t ask.”
He chews and swallows before he says, “Do you want me to ask him if it could be a more convenient time?”
I laugh, “No.”
“Do you want to go to the meadow now to distract you?”
“Yes please.”
“Fine, let me pull on some clothes.”
“Thank you,” I say and shut the window.
Downstairs, my mother smiles at me, hands me a mug full of the brew and says, “What are you going to do today?”
“I’m going out with Gale.”
“Oh good,” she says as she pours another mug of the stuff. “Would you like some oatmeal? It’ll keep you on your feet until two.”
“That would be nice, thank you.” My legs feel weak, so I sit down as I drink the mug. My legs shake, and my mother sees.
“Is it working?” she asks.
“It helps a lot,” I say, “Can you take out whatever you put in for sleep?”
She looks concerned as she says, “I thought you were sleeping better. You’ve been staying asleep longer.”
“I can’t wake up from the nightmares. I get stuck in them. I’d rather be awake than trapped.”
Horror washes over her face, and she says, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
She starts to approach me, but I hold up a hand to stop her words, and she stops moving. “It’s fine. I’d just rather be able to wake up.” I don’t want her comfort or her touch.
She nods and moves back to the stove. “I’ll change it in your midday drink.”
“Thanks,” I say. Gale knocks, and I call, “Come in.”
He and my mother exchange pleasantries, and my mother asks him if he wants any more adjustments made. He asks about the muscle spasms, and she sighs, “I’m trying for those. I’m still working on it. How’s your sleep?”
“Bad. I fall asleep, that’s good, but then I can’t wake up when the dreams come. Peeta says I sound like a small wounded animal. It’s good that I don’t wake the kids but it’s difficult.”
She nods and hands him the mug, “I’ll cut out the sleep aids from now on. Would you like some oatmeal?”
“No, thanks, I just had an apple. Mom says she’s going to the store soon.”
“I’ll head over there in a bit. Your afternoon batch of this will be in the refrigerator. Katniss, do you need help getting dressed for your walk?”
“No, thank you,” I say. “It won’t be difficult.”
She nods and spoons oatmeal into a bowl, “I understand.” As she brings the bowl to me, she looks at the clock and says, “I should meet Hazelle. We have a lot to do at the store before we can open.”
“Thanks for breakfast and the drink. Have a good day, Mom.”
After she leaves, Gale says, “You’re really trying, aren’t you?”
“I am, Gale, I am. And I know she is too,” I say as I eat.
“There was a time when she never would have made you oatmeal.”
“Yeah. I promised you I would try. We still don’t touch but maybe we will someday.”
He nods, “I know. So are you excited for your walk?” His tone is teasing.
“No, not really,” I say.
He laughs and says, “You’re really bad at being a girl.”
“I know,” I groan. I finish the oatmeal and wash the bowl, putting it back in its place.
We leave without speaking, and Gale says, “Two o’clock is so awkward. We’re going to have to be back here by one.”
“It won’t take me an hour to get ready. Cinna isn’t here. I just need a quick bath and time to braid my hair and pull on some clothes. I need a half hour, tops.”
“What about makeup? Do you own makeup? We could buy you makeup.”
“I don’t even know how to do makeup. I just know how to sit still while someone else does it.”
“I bet Madge knows,” he says. I’ve been spending some Sunday mornings with her. She’s nice. I have always liked her, but I’ve never really known her. At first, she tried to teach me piano, but I wasn’t any good at it, and I liked listening to her play more. I doubt she knows anything about makeup. She’s not much better at being a girl than me.
“If Darius likes me in tatty clothes, sweaty in the Hob then he’ll like me nice clothes with nothing but a clean face.”
He nods and says, “Shopping in the Hob is so hard now. We need to buy things in the town to trade at the Hob.” He’s aware that the houses are monitored, and it’s good to keep up the lie that no money is exchanged in the market.
“They’re the people who paid for our gift. It wasn’t the merchants; they don’t know us and they didn’t care as much about whether or not we got home. I don’t want to shop in town just because it’s easier.”
He nods and says, “I wasn’t suggesting that we did. I was just saying it’s harder.” We leave, and as we walk, he repeatedly bumps my hip with his own.
“Stop it.”
“You’re going on a walk,” he says.
“I’m nervous,” I admit.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never been on a walk. And he’s my friend.”
He shrugs. “That should make you less nervous.”
“I don’t know how to behave on a walk.”
He smiles, “Well, like you said: he likes you in the Hob. You should just act like yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“Pretend I’m sick and that that’s the only reason I’m not with you.”
“That’s actually a really good idea.”
We change our clothes in the houses and then meet at the meadow. We check the fence automatically and find that it’s off. We hunt in silence; I relax into it — let myself forget. We gather supplies for my mother and check our snares. Gale has a watch now. He bought it from a man who makes mechanical things in the Hob. It doesn’t keep great time, Gale likes it, but we still use the sun for the time. And when Gale says, “We should go.” The sky tells me that it’s some time before one.
We head back to the houses and go to the Hob. Inside, I give out meat and plants while Gale gets soup. I buy Haymitch liquor because I have to pay him back for doing his best for us in the Games. If drinking helps him sleep, then it’s not my business. My mother offered to brew him a treatment, but I know the stuff she makes to help us sleep won’t help him if he’s looking not to dream. The alcohol is clear, and I know he prefers the dark ones, but no one makes them here. I don’t know anything about alcohol, but I guess the clear one is easier or cheaper to make.
When I head over to Greasy Sae’s counter, she says, “It’s rabbit today.”
“I can’t. I’m going on a walk with Darius, and he’s bringing lunch. I can’t eat much anymore, so I’d better not have soup.” But I push myself up onto her counter next to Gale. I don’t buy soup just because I have money. That would be insulting. That would be charity. I know how these people think, and I’m no less welcome for not spending money.
People start to tease me about going on a walk. They tease me that girls go on walks when they’re thirteen and that I’m late in doing so. It’s always been much easier to speak with these people than the kids at school. But these people share my lifestyle, and the kids don’t. I start blushing as they gently taunt me. They mock me more for that. But I laugh with them.
Finally, I say, “What time is it?” Gale looks at his watch but shrugs. “I better go.” I push myself off the counter. People sober and tell me to have a good time with sincere voices. And somehow, that makes me less nervous than anything else has.
I go to Haymitch’s house. He’s not awake. His door has no lock, just like all the houses in the Victor’s Village. But he’s set up a lock latch, unable to sleep feeling unprotected. It’s easy to unlock and relock it from the outside. But it gives him the illusion of safety. I leave the bottles on his table and let myself out. In my own house, I wash and braid my hair and dress in the nicer clothes. Downstairs, I open the refrigerator. It’s confusing that it’s always cold, that we always have power. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.