“What? My head doctor says I’m not supposed to censor my thoughts. It’s part of my therapy,” replies Johanna.
The life has gone out of our little party. Finnick murmurs things to Annie until she slowly removes her hands. Then there’s a long silence while people pretend to eat.
“Annie,” says Delly brightly, “did you know it was Peeta who decorated your wedding cake? Back home, his family ran the bakery and he did all the icing.”
Annie cautiously looks across Johanna. “Thank you, Peeta. It was beautiful.”
“My pleasure, Annie,” says Peeta, and I hear that old note of gentleness in his voice that I thought was gone forever. Not that it’s directed at me. But still.
“If we’re going to fit in that walk, we better go,” Finnick tells her. He arranges both of their trays so he can carry them in one hand while holding tightly to her with the other. “Good seeing you, Peeta.”
“You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you.” It could be a joke, if the tone wasn’t so cold. Everything it conveys is wrong. The open distrust of Finnick, the implication that Peeta has his eye on Annie, that Annie could desert Finnick, that I do not even exist.
“Oh, Peeta,” says Finnick lightly. “Don’t make me sorry I restarted your heart.” He leads Annie away after giving me a concerned glance.
When they’re gone, Delly says in a reproachful voice, “He did save your life, Peeta. More than once.”
“For her.” He gives me a brief nod. “For the rebellion. Not for me. I don’t owe him anything.”
I shouldn’t rise to the bait, but I do. “Maybe not. But Mags is dead and you’re still here. That should count for something.”
“Yeah, a lot of things should count for something that don’t seem to, Katniss. I’ve got some memories I can’t make sense of, and I don’t think the Capitol touched them. A lot of nights on the train, for instance,” he says.
Again the implications. That more happened on the train than did. That what did happen—those nights I only kept my sanity because his arms were around me—no longer matters. Everything a lie, everything a way of misusing him.
Peeta makes a little gesture with his spoon, connecting Gale and me. “So, are you two officially a couple now, or are they still dragging out the star-crossed lover thing?”
“Still dragging,” says Johanna.
Spasms cause Peeta’s hands to tighten into fists, then splay out in a bizarre fashion. Is it all he can do to keep them from my neck? I can feel the tension in Gale’s muscles next to me, fear an altercation. But Gale simply says, “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.”
“What’s that?” asks Peeta.
“You,” Gale answers.
“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” says Peeta. “What about me?”
“That they’ve replaced you with the evil-mutt version of yourself,” says Johanna.
Gale finishes his milk. “You done?” he asks me. I rise and we cross to drop off our trays. At the door, an old man stops me because I’m still clutching the rest of my gravy bread in my hand. Something in my expression, or maybe the fact that I’ve made no attempt to conceal it, makes him go easy on me. He lets me stuff the bread in my mouth and move on. Gale and I are almost to my compartment when he speaks again. “I didn’t expect that.”
“I told you he hated me,” I say.
“It’s the way he hates you. It’s so…familiar. I used to feel like that,” he admits. “When I’d watch you kissing him on the screen. Only I knew I wasn’t being entirely fair. He can’t see that.”
We reach my door. “Maybe he just sees me as I really am. I have to get some sleep.”
Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. “So that’s what you’re thinking now?” I shrug. “Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he’s not seeing you as you really are.” He kisses my cheek and goes.
I sit on my bed, trying to stuff information from my Military Tactics books into my head while memories of my nights with Peeta on the train distract me. After about twenty minutes, Johanna comes in and throws herself across the foot of my bed. “You missed the best part. Delly lost her temper at Peeta over how he treated you. She got very squeaky. It was like someone stabbing a mouse with a fork repeatedly. The whole dining hall was riveted.”
“What’d Peeta do?” I ask.
“He started arguing with himself like he was two people. The guards had to take him away. On the good side, no one seemed to notice I finished his stew.” Johanna rubs her hand over her protruding belly. I look at the layer of grime under her fingernails. Wonder if the people in 7 ever bathe.