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We’re standing in the disgustingly hot July heat, the sun beating down on us, already burning the tops of our noses. Really, for the sake of all us Townies, the town square should be covered. I’m pale enough, but some of these kids, like little Lottie Sayers over there, are too white to be outside now. She looks like she’s going to burst into flames at any second. I look around at the sea of sweaty necks and brows, looking for a dark braid instead a blonde one. Not for me. For my idiot brother. Everdeen has her hair up in a crown of braids today, and she’s in a pretty little dress, shows off her little waist. The hair and dress make her look sweet, maybe flirty, but she’s (as always) scowling. Can’t imagine why Peeta likes her. She looks fuckin’ mean. Stuck up. Also, the fact she can kill things and drag ‘em through town? Something tells me you’d have to make sure you toed the line with her, or else. Kinda like how Mama is to him. Well maybe that’s it then.
I have heard about Everdeen for comin’ on Eleven Goddamn Years now. I know everything there is to know about this chick that can be known without actually saying a word to her, because he’s never said a word to her. I’ve seen the sketches, the letters, the truly awful attempts at poetry, the (admittedly, pretty good) pencil drawings that took weeks for him to finish scattered across our room for Eleven Years. I’ve heard the soliloquies(see, Mrs. Marks? I’m payin’ attention) practiced in the mirror, the grand planned gestures, the paper flowers and ribbons gathered and then abandoned after Sweetheart’s Day, every instance of young tender love and I could not be more sick of it. It ain’t- isn’t. Isn’t real. Not a lick of it. If it was, he’d talk to her. If she’s too scary, which again, she sure as shit looks that scary, maybe move on? Maybe pick someone different? Hell, it can even be another Seam girl, if that’s what he’s into. Leevy’s got that same little tits and long legs thing. And she actually smiles. But whatever. One day something will break it, and then I won’t have to fuckin’ hear it ever again.
That weird Trinket woman is just about to pick the girl’s name, and I’m still wondering what it takes to get someone’s hair that big , that pink , that shiny when she reads out the slip. Primrose Everdeen. Well. Shit. I don’t know what this is gonna mean, when her little sister dies. When her dad died, Peeta talked for months about how we needed to help her. I kept telling him it wasn’t the time or place, that the last thing she needed was some over-enthusiastic Townie meddling in her shit. She already had it rough enough. We could tell she was taking care of everyone now. That her mama wasn’t doin shit, and she was the breadwinner now. I remember thinking it was weird, and how I couldn’t imagine it, then I thought about how that’s just what older siblings do. That that’s what Rye does for Peeta and me. A buffer for when Mama’s on the war path. Even when she ain’t- isn’t. Isn’t coming after me, he protects me all the same. She usually doesn’t come after me, and that somehow feels worse. I owe ‘em both a lot of beatings. Rye used to take the blame sometimes, but we all kinda quickly realized I could get away with significantly more than he could, and especially more than Peeta could, poor fucking kid. Never understood why she hates him so much.
There’s some screaming and shuffling, and I look over and there she is, her face showing real emotion for once , screaming that she’s volunteering. I can’t imagine that. How would you ever do that? And then it sinks in. Shit. Everdeen is gonna die. I look over at Peeta, who looks like he’s gonna spew. Shit. What am I even gonna say to him, when this is over? While we walk home? Happy fucking birthday! That girl you’ve been obsessed with your whole life is gonna get gutted by some teen-freak Career. It’s too awful. I just sigh and brace for the boy’s name. Almost over. One more year of it for me, two for him.
And then that pink and green bitch calls his name. I’m shocked. I can’t move, or see, or hear anything, and then it’s too late. He’s up on the stage and it’s too late. I can’t volunteer, can’t save him, can’t fix it. Once again he’s getting more punishment than his fair share. This kid that cries when he sees a hurt wild dog. That cried when he learned we ate our baby pigs. That’s been in love with the same girl for eleven years. The girl that’s going in with him. Shit!!! She’s going in with him!! They’re gonna die in there together. Well, I think darkly, they’re gonna have to talk now .
I go and look for Rye, and we both just stare at each other. He’s not saying it, but he’s thinking it. “Yeah, I know. I should’ve. I… I couldn’t make the words come.” I hate myself.
I’m expecting him to scold me, to yell. Being the parent’s favorite makes me the least favorite brother. They neither one like me much. Well, that ain’t- isn’t true. They like me just fine. They’re just very jealous. I would be too, if I was- were gettin’ beat for minor shit that don’t even matter, and someone else wasn’t. I don’t expect him to hug me. He does, pulling me in close, even kissing my forehead like he did when I was little. I don’t even wipe it off this time.
“Hush. It isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything right neither.”
He smiles a little. “ Either, you mean. But it doesn’t matter. It’s going to be okay. Besides, I think she’d kill him, if you went in instead. It wouldn’t be a good sacrifice. She’d hate him even more, especially if you didn’t come back.” He shook his head. “God help me for what I’m gonna say, but it’s better this way. If he comes back, JoAnn won’t think he’s worthless anymore. If he doesn’t”, his breath shudders, “if he doesn’t, well. Then she never touches him again.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. The one thing she only did to him. Rye got beat, sure. But he didn’t get touched like she touches Peeta. It… it’s not that she straight up sleeps with him. But it’s…uncomfortable, to even watch. Humiliating. Can’t imagine what it feels like. “Right. Well, ready to say” Oh I can’t say goodbye. I blink some rogue tears. “To send him off?”
“Yeah.” He says gruffly. “Yeah.” I can tell he’s thinking what I am. This is gonna be a shitshow.
It’s worse than I thought it’d be. We’re all standing there and not saying anything. Rye at least held him while he cried. JoAnn is world class, says something truly evil. Says she’s rooting for Everdeen, and if there was any fondness I ever had for that woman, it’s done. She runs out, even though all the rest of us are begging her to not. I scoff, but Peeta is laughing, no, cackling. Like nothing has ever been so goddamn funny.
“Love you too, Mama! Hope I get to see you again!” He yells out, voice hard and bitter. “ God. What the fuck?” He scrubs at his face, leans back, screaming and laughing and sobbing into his hands.
Rye runs after our useless fucking parents, trying to talk sense into them. It’s pointless. Anyway, we’re almost out of time. Almost out of time. I can’t fuck it up again.
“I know it ain’t great timing to be asking you a favor, but do one for me anyway?”
“God, Soren. What?” He sighs, clearly not in the mood for whatever he thinks I might say. I sit down on the saggy sofa, clapping his shoulder.
“I need you to tell her. Please. She deserves to know.”
He huffs, rolls his eyes. “It’s all a bit pointless, ain’t it? Nothing either one of us could ever do now.”
“Yeah, but I know you. You’d never be able to live with yourself if you never told her. So you’ve gotta. Find some way. Do one of those grand gestures you’re always planning. Or, fuck, I dunno, do it private. Over coffee or whatever. But tell her, little bun.” I’ve never called him that. Not sincerely, anyway. That’s what Dad and Rye(mostly Rye these days) call him. But, it felt right. “I’m really sorry I didn’t”
“Don’t be.” He cuts me off. “I get it. Don’t be sorry. In fact, promise me. You don’t get to feel guilty about it.”
I swallow hard again. The Peacekeepers are coming to take me away. I clap him on the shoulder one more time. “Alright. I love you. Uh, good luck and all that. And happy birthday”
It gets him to laugh, even if it’s just a dark laugh. “Thanks. Uh…see…mm. See you later.”
“Yeah. See you later.” I don’t know if I believe he will , but I know he can win this. I hope he does.
I try to keep my promise, of not feeling guilty, for not stepping up and going in for him. It’s not easy. Suddenly our room feels too big, too empty. Rye and I haven’t moved a damn thing. There’s still a half finished drawing on the desk, a pair of silver eyes. I wanna puke everytime I see them. I do my homework downstairs in the bakery now.
We’re closed on the day of the interviews. We close a little more now, though not as much as I thought we would. Dad hides, crying in long showers or disappearing on errands, and JoAnn, Rye and I are stuck in the bakery together, avoiding curses and rolling pins being hurled at us. Now that Peeta isn’t here, I’m getting on her nerves more. I’m sporting black eyes now too, though I don’t let them show. I can’t cover them like Peeta does, and I’m a little paler than him anyway, but the little tube of concealer he left behind does fine enough.
We all sit on the couch, pretend to be a family over some tea and cookies. We’re eating more fresh, a result of the sympathy money. People have been spending a lot on baked goods here lately. The mayer orders a cake a week. Madge must know we’re feeding Prim and Mrs. Everdeen(Mama does too, and she hates it. Dad catches an ashtray to the nose for it). She likes Katniss too.
Anyway, my baby brother is talking to Ceasar Flickerman, and they’re playing off each other like they’ve been co-hosts for decades. He’s charming. Affable. He could make this a career if…when he wins. And then Ceaser asks about a girl, his whole body shifts. He gets a little nervous, a little small, tries to shift the conversation but Ceaser ain’t having it. He pushes Peeta again. Say it say it say it, you little dork, or I swear to god . I’m staring at his face in the tv. Maybe if I think it hard enough he can somehow get it. You promised .
He clears his throat. “Well, there is this one girl…”
I sink back into the couch with a sigh of relief. There you go, bro. Took you long enough.
She even goes for it. When they change the rules(which I still can’t get over, but maybe young love is more exciting than child murder for those people.((if that’s the case, can we make it a matchmaking game? I’ll volunteer. I’ll host. )) I just don’t know if I trust it) and she’s up in that tree, screaming his name, I know it’s over. She likes him too. She tears through the Arena just to find him, looking very camouflaged and very dead by the river. He flirts, and she giggles and blushes. What? Maybe she’s just soft for him. Good. It’s what he deserves. Hard for everyone else but soft for him.
For a few days I’m worried I’m gonna have to watch my baby brother lose his virginity on national television, but as cuddly and kissy as Katniss is, she’s clearly not very experienced . She won’t change around him, she blushes every time they kiss. She’s actually sweet . A giggly, nervous, even precious little thing. She looks even tinier next to Peeta, so short and thin and fine-boned. They fit each other. They’re striking together.
It’s all anyone can talk about, but for the first time, I don’t mind hearing about it all. I join in at school, spilling all the secrets I know. It’s a little shitty, but I can’t help it. It’s so…excuse the dopey ass phrasing, but as one teacher said, life affirming to see. My homelife is worse, but if they really can win and win together, it’ll be like a real-life miracle. Hard proof that not everything always has to completely fucking suck, all the time. That sometimes, good things happen to people. Sometimes good things happen to the people who deserve it the most.
The berries give me a heart attack. I’m on the edge of my seat and I don’t think I breathe the whole time. I don’t know what to expect. Are they gonna let them live? Are they gonna blow them up? Send in mutts again? Let them live and torture them on the air? I almost shut my eyes, bracing for the canons, but instead Templesmith is shouting, telling them to stop, that they both won, and he did it. He actually did it. I’m jumping and screaming and laughing and we’re all hugging even, because he fucking did it . He won, and he got the girl of his dreams. This one time, it actually works out for him. This time, Peeta gets what he wants.