Chapter Text
Home Is A Wandering Thing
I'm seeing my family today.
It's been nine months, three weeks, and three days since we were all able to get into the same room at once. The chances I've had to see any of them have been few and far between, and rarely for more than a few minutes, never long enough for them to really tell me anything. Posy seems normal, but I can tell that Rory and Vick have changed, not as much as I was afraid of, but still there. I feel both proud and angry that we've all toughened up so much. We've already had to be so tough.
It's not my family, technically. I am not a true Hawthorne. I'm an Everdeen. I am the last Everdeen. Dad's dead. Mom's dead. Prim's dead. Her name echoes in my head, Primrose. I dream that she calls my name while the house burns down around her. It was an electrical fire from a loose outlet I had been meaning to fix. I just hadn't gotten around to it. I almost followed them a few days later. Mom was a home care nurse for years, so she had a cornucopia of medications. I sat down and figured out what could kill me and how much I needed, but when the time came, I stared at all the pills on the table for hours and finally flushed them down the toilet.
Dad's been dead for years. That's how I ended up a Hawthorne, really. Gale Hawthorne's father was killed in the same construction accident as mine, and with four kids to take care of between our two families, we were linked forever. I'm not sure where he is today. He's not coming with us. I think he's probably at a group home. I have a feeling he has gotten kicked out of a lot of homes at this point. He's big and tall and angry, and it's enough to put people off if they never see the sweet smiles he gives his little sister or how he ruffles Rory's hair when he wants to annoy him.
We're supposed to be able to see our siblings—not much help for me, but still—any time we want, but it became clear pretty fast in some homes that it wasn't a good idea. It felt so easy to lose each other.
I'm excited but a little concerned. I can't imagine who would want to take in all four of us. Posy is seven and sweet, it's easy to see why someone would want her. But Vick is eleven, an awkward age already, and Vick makes it plenty awkward on his own, and Rory is thirteen and already guarded. Me, well, I can't imagine anything good that someone wants with a sixteen year old. If they're expecting some kind of sexy Lolita, they'll be sorely disappointed. I've always been small, and I've done nothing but shrink into myself in the past year, since Mom and Prim and then Gale's mother, like we were being punished for something. I've learned to make myself invisible. I don't know if I'll ever be myself again. I hope Prim isn't watching me from heaven. She would hate it.
But there's no time to wallow. I have packing to do and I'm still curled up on the floor in the closet. My hands shake and I cry silently, knowing that this is the last time I'll be able to cry for awhile. I can't cry in front of the kids. They're scared enough already.
A shadow plays over the crack at the bottom the door and it's pulled open a second later by my roommate Johanna. I spare ten percent of my brain to being embarrassed, but Johanna punches her pillows in her sleep and walks around half-naked even though she has a scar on her back that runs from one shoulder to the opposite hip. I don't think she'll make fun of me or stare right past me like so many other kids have in the group home. I've only been here a few times, but it's hell. The quiet stillness that had been an asset becomes a liability here. I seem like an easy target. Girls try to corner me in the bathroom. Boys try to catch me alone. This time, I just try to make it to Thursday.
Johanna sits on the floor in front of the closet instead of trying to hug me. “Where ya headed?”
I just found out where I'm headed yesterday. “The Mellarks.”
“Oh, phew,” she says, and looks genuinely relieved. “You'll be fine. I mean, it's hard work—they're basically in the system for slave labor. They'll make you work in the bakery. But it's safe and they even have a farm if you wanna play country girl in the summer.”
“So why aren't you there?”
“I couldn't deal with the mother. She's psycho. I got into a screaming match with her and she sent me back. I mean, the whole family seems kind of fucked up, she—um.”
I tense all over. “She what?”
“It's...not really my secret to tell,” she says uncomfortably.
I'm taken aback. Tact and respect aren't really things I've come to expect from Johanna. I nod with respect.
“But it's safe,” she adds quickly. “The place is mostly run by one of the sons. He's not too bad.”
I'm worried about what she won't tell me, but if she says it's not bad, I have a little hope. Johanna never speaks kindly about foster families. In fact, she views the whole thing as 'us against them'.
She helps me pack and I'm at the front door waiting for my social worker before I know it. I try not to blame Effie for the things that have happened. She has so many other kids to worry about and she can't be there all day, every day to protect us. She can't tell from an hour with someone whether or not they're a monster. Some of them hide it incredibly well, so much so that the first time I whispered to someone that a boy—the brother—had come into my room and sat at the edge of my bed and ran his hands over my body while I tried not to breathe, his sister slapped me. It was hard to take a slap from a fourteen year old, but it was a valuable lesson.
But Effie has worked very hard to find a place for us where we can all be together, when she didn't have to. I know it was a hard sell, but this family must have been eager to get more workers. I'm not sure what seven-year-old Posy will be able to do. I worry about her getting burned. But I can't worry about the future until I get through today.
My stomach roils when Effie pulls up, but I forget about my nerves as soon as I see the kids all but leap out of the car and throw themselves at me, Posy screaming my name and Vick whispering it against me while he clings to my waist. I only manage to get one arm around Rory. He's lost weight.
Effie looks almost as excited as the kids. Tears stream down her face in purple streaks from her make-up. Johanna hangs back until the kids let go and then gives me a quick hug from behind. She disappears into the building.
I grab my stuff, everything I've managed to hang onto after four moves. The first time I got kicked out was because my foster sister tried to throw out my Dad's old jacket. Pretty much everything I had to remember my family by was ashes. I managed to throw the jacket out the window into the hedges before she stormed back into the room with her mother.
We pile into the car and Effie treats us all to ice cream. I try to say no, but she insists. I'm a little uncomfortable with how much I'm coming to owe her. This little moment of seeing the kids relatively happy means a lot. But I know she feels the same way, so I order butter pecan and smile blissfully after the first taste. She doesn't even fret about our atrocious manners.
The ice cream shop has a little playground. “Go play,” Effie tells them. Vick grumbles that he's not a baby, he does not play, but the three of them go off.
“You know where you're going?” she asks me.
“Mellarks.” I stare ahead. “How did you find someone to take us all?”
She frowns and looks away. She presses her lips together and finally says, “I've placed a lot of children with the Mellarks.”
So she knows. But she probably also knows that manual labor isn't the worst we could do, by far. I don't know how she's still so soft after doing this job for four years.
“It sounds fine. Thanks, Effie.” I know she's itching to hug me, but she holds back.
Finally, we have to get to the serious part of the day. Every single one of us grows tense as we pull into the parking lot of the bakery. It's a nice enough place, with exposed, white-washed brick and an old-fashioned style sign outside that says 'Mellark's Cafe'. Then I see the cakes in the front window and I have to upgrade it from 'nice enough'.
There's a long counter over the glass cases, with a coffee maker and some complicated thing at the end. The pastries in here are picture-perfect, too. I can hear Posy's oohs and ahhs. Vick tells her to pipe down. His voice is waivery and he suddenly grabs my hand, just for a second.
It's pretty empty and there's no one behind the counter, but the bell over the door quickly brings out a boy. I suck in a breath. He's my age, so I hope he's the brother Johanna mentioned. I don't think I can handle another slap from a fourteen-year-old.
He comes forward and I can see that he's definitely my age, and big, at least to me. He's actually on the shorter side but his shoulders are broad and strong-looking, I guess from all the kneading. It takes me a second to look him in the eye and my breath catches again when I do. They're the bluest things I've ever seen besides a clear sky. He has a strong jaw and hair the color of wheat that falls in waves across his forehead. His smiles a straight, white smile and says hi to Effie with a wave. Then he turns his eyes to me and holds out a hand.
“I'm Peeta.”
I take it and shake it quickly. “Katniss.”
He turns to the kids and says, “Now, let me see if I have it right. You must be Rory, you must be Vick, and you in the back,” he says teasingly, “Must be Posy.” She peeks around my leg and nods.
“Perfectly right!” Effie cries happily. “Oh, it's always such a joy to see you, Peeta.”
He gives Effie a big hug. I'm glad he didn't try to hug me. “You too, Effie.”
“Goodness, children, where are you manners?” she frets. “Say hello!”
We all mumble 'hello', except for Posy he jumps out from behind me and says, “Hi!”
“Hi, Posy! I'm excited you guys are here.” He seems sincere enough.
“Peeta,” Effie says, taking out her bag. “I need these papers signed. Is your father here?”
“No, just Mom. I'll take them up and bring them back,” he says quickly.
She thanks him and then turns to us. Quietly, she says, “Well, I will see you in a few weeks for a follow-up visit. Don't be afraid to call if you need me.”
Peeta returns in a flash with a papers. He and Effie exchange a look when he hands them over, but he cheerfully says, “All done!” He gives her another hug and says, “See ya soon.”
Then Effie goes out the door and we are left alone with this boy. I feel a sudden terror. I've worried about everyone else plenty of times, but I could never do anything about it. Now that we're all here together, I realize that I'm completely responsible now for keeping them safe. Until I find Gale and he's there to split the responsibility. I've never missed him so much. I hope that they'll let Rory talk to him, since they're real family.
Peeta cuts off an awkward pause and says, “Ready to see your room?”
Room, singular, for the four of us.
We all pick up our bags and he tries to take mine, but I jerk it away, mumbling, “I can get it.”
He takes us through the back of the bakery and I know the kids are staring around in curiosity. Vick is holding Posy's hand tight, so I know she's safe from the ovens. It will probably be amazing when it gets colder in a few months. Being warm will be worth the work.
But he leads us into the furnished basement, where it's chilly now, but could get terrible in the winter. However, it is much bigger than a pantry. There are two bunk beds in the one corner with a curtain to pull to hide them. So we'll all have our own beds. That'll be pretty nice.
“I know it's not much,” Peeta says quickly, although Vick has already thrown his stuff on the top bunk and declared that was dibs. Peeta must see the worry on my face because he says, “It gets cold, but we have lots of blankets and some space heaters if it's really bad.” He sounds sorry.
“It's plenty,” I say quietly. “Thank you.” We watch Posy take out a teddy bear and lay down happily on the bed. After a moment, I say, “Will we be working tomorrow?”
He doesn't answer for a moment. Then he says, “How do you know about working in the bakery?”
“A girl who lived here. She was my roommate at the home.”
“Who?”
“Her name's Johanna.”
“Oh, I'm so glad,” he says. “I haven't seen Johanna in years. Is she alright?”
“I don't know. I mean, she lives at the home.” He looks pained and I add, “She'll be eighteen in a few months.”
He nods. “That's good.”
“It might be better this way. I can explain it to them.”
He doesn't say anything to that. He says, “You might as well start tomorrow. 5:30.”
He asks if we're hungry and says he'll bring us sandwiches before we can respond.
I turn to Rory and wave him over while the other two are distracted. “Are you alright?”
“I'm alright,” he says. His voice is gruff and I have to remind myself that nine months is a long time. He finally gives me a full hug and doesn't let go for a long moment.
“My friend at the home said we'll be okay here,” I whisper.
“What's 'okay'?”
“She said 'safe'.” He nods grimly and my eyes sting. “We'll work in the bakery.”
“Okay.”
Peeta comes back with a basket of wrapped-up sandwiches and a tray of lemonades. I think we all look shocked at being served food, but Peeta doesn't notice, or probably pretends not to notice. He must have seen dozens of kids looking at food like they've never eaten.
“I'll let you guys get settled. There's a bathroom in the corner with towels and stuff. I'm upstairs at the back, off the hallway.” I have no idea where that is, but I nod. “Let me know if you need anything.” He hesitates and then puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
I force a smile but I think it's pretty weak. “Thanks, Peeta.” He goes up the stairs and I have to admit that I'm glad.
We tear into the sandwiches, which are on some kind of fancy bread with some kind of fancy meat and fancy cheese. I'm sure it's the fanciest thing we've evereaten, and the kids get excited and start picking it apart to see what's inside. After we stuff ourselves, we find the chest with extra blankets and even some pairs of thick, wool socks. Then Posy finds a stack of board games and insists that we all play. Vick and Rory grumble, but we play three rounds because Posy loves it so much.
Finally, I glance to Rory and say, “Guess what, guys? We get to work in the bakery tomorrow!”
Vick certainly doesn't look as excited as Posy. “Get to?”
“Yes, Vick,” Rory snaps. “Get to, just like we get to stay here together.”
“Sorry, Rory.” He glances at me. “Sorry, Katniss.”
I suggest we get some sleep and I feel grateful when I get into bed. Even if things go to hell, at least we have this one happy day together. That's something.