Chapter Text
After school, I race back to the Seam. I trade my books for my game bag and pack it full of the extra game, some herbs from the woods my mother has dried, and one of Prim’s goat cheeses.
On the way to the Hob, I swing by Hazelle’s again to get her list. She presses a couple coins in my hand and smiles sadly. This time, Rory and Vick are awake and I wave to them through the open window. The list isn’t long, the usual stuff Gale trades for; Lye for the washing, tallow for Hazelle’s hands, clothespins, and thread. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to afford all of this, plus the bandages, paraffin, and salt my mother needs, but I’l try.
I try to focus on the task at hand. I need to get to the Hob, make my trades, and get home before tonight’s mandatory viewing of the opening ceremony. But I can’t help the anxiety that thrums through me at the thought of seeing Gale and Madge on the television screen.
Focus. I take a breath and walk into the bustling market.
Back when my father first died I was terrified of this place, now its familiar coal-streaked frame is a comfort. I know the people inside and they know me. After years of making my own trades I know how to drive a bargain and when to cut someone a break.
My first stop is Greasy Sae’s stall. I may not have the nerve to thank Peeta but I can thank Sae. I slide up to her counter and pass her a squirrel, on the house. In the Hob, saying thanks is that easy.
“How’s Hazelle?” she asks me.
”Holding up,” I say.
Sae nods, “She’s a tough one.”
Sae stirs her large bubbling vat of “venison” stew and adds, “What about you, girl? Holdin’ up?”
I swallow hard. I don’t know exactly what to say. I don’t know exactly how I feel. So I just say, “I’m holding up too.”
And there’s not much more for us to say. I bid Sae goodbye, and I promise to bring her some wild turkey next time I shoot some. Now I have to get to my trades.
Rooba takes the spiced herbs off my hands in exchange for some tallow. I see Darius and he buys two of my fattest squirrels. I use the coins to buy the lye and clothespins from a wrinkled old woman’s stall. Leevy’s mother sells odds and ends her husband manages to smuggle up from the mines. I trade her one of Prim’s cheeses for Capitol-issue bandages and some paraffin. I’ll have to get the thread later
All considered, I made excellent trades today. Perhaps too excellent. I start to wonder if the Hob regulars were cutting me deals out of pity. I look at my meager haul and think, better not get used to it. Charity only goes so far in Twelve, and I can’t start to rely on it.
I’m taking my time wandering back home. I know I need to be back soon, but my legs feel like lead. The thought of actually seeing Madge and Gale all dressed up in the Capitol makes my stomach turn. For the opening ceremonies tributes are forced into humiliating costumes meant to represent their district and pulled around in chariots.
One year our tributes were paraded around the Capitol stark naked and covered in coal dust. For my friends’ sake, and my own, I hope this year’s stylist doesn’t think nudity is the final word in fashion.
I am so preoccupied with thoughts of horses, lit headlamps, and tributes past that I almost don’t hear Peeta coming. His tread is heavy, so I notice him before he sees me. He’s leaving my neighbourhood headed back towards the square. I side-step into a scraggly bunch of trees that completely obscure my presence in the twilight.
A blonde town kid in the Seam twice in two days? It must be some kind of record, perhaps one currently held by my mother. I have exactly two guesses as to where he’s coming from.
I’m very tempted to stay hidden, but this is too perfect of a chance to pass up. I grit my teeth, step into the fading light, and clear my throat.
Peeta whips around, startled. His posture softens when he see’s it’s just me. “Katniss,” he says. “Jeez, you’re quiet.” he shakes his head with an awkward chuckle.
“Sorry,” I say, “Gotta surprise the deer somehow.” He looks at me like he’s debating saying something else, but I have to get this out before I lose the nerve.
“Thank you, Peeta.” He looks as surprised as when I snuck up on him. “Thank you for the bread.”
”Oh, It was nothing, I was bringing some to Gale’s family and well, I just …”
”No,” I say, “Not that bread.”
”The bread? What? You mean the one from when we were kids?” he says.
“Yes. I’m sorry I never thanked you. I’m so sorry.” It’s probably just the pent up emotions of the past couple of days but my voice breaks and I am in real danger of crying.
It only takes Peeta one step to cross the distance between us. His hand hovers above my shoulder, like a bird scared to land. He just pats my arm gently. My eyes meet his kind blue ones and I really can’t believe how much I hated him just this morning.
”There’s nothing to thank me for Katniss, and there’s nothing to apologize for either.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, but I manage a curt nod. Peeta smiles at me and I find myself smiling back. Before I can revel in the weightless feeling of relief I feel, Peeta’s expression darkens. The mandatory viewing!
“We need to go,” he says “Or else we’ll be late.” We turn and rush our separate ways home.