Panem High School {COMPLETED}

Chapter 45 - Johanna

(Skipping Peeta...because...reasons...

How am I already on chapter 45, and it's only November first in the book? I might have to make a book for every semester! Ay yi yi!

Warning: I do plan on having one of the seven die at some point. I don't know who and I don't when yet, but it will most likely happen. Then again, I might just be saying this to get the feels going *shrugs* who knows?)

(Johanna's POV)

I am not sad to say goodbye to Katniss. I push down the slight twinge of guilt I feel for ruining truth or dare last night. She deserved it. Clove doesn't agree, for some reason, but she won't talk about it.

After I get home, I carry my bag to my room and drop it on the floor. I can unpack that later. I plug my phone in, put my headphone on, and turn on Fall Out Boy. I then proceed to immediately fall asleep.

My door creaking open wales me up. I look up towards my door, my vision blurred from sleep, and make out my mom. "Johanna, honey? Are you awake?"

"I am now," I mumble. "What is it?" I say, louder.

"Your dad and I need to talk to you." Uh-oh. I immediately sit up. Her tone sounds like someone died. Maybe my grandma got cancer again? I follow Mom into the living room.

Dad is sitting in his recliner, but it's not reclined. He's leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. That's not a good sign either. Am I in trouble? I mentally flip through everything questionable I've done recently, but I can't think of anything that my parents would get mad at me for.

Mom sits down on the couch, and motions for me to sit next to her, but I vouch for the chair next to fireplace. Whatever this little meeting is about, it can't be good, and I don't want to sit next to Mom, who seems to think I need comforting about everything.

After an uncomfortable silence, I speak up. "So, what's up?" I try to sound upbeat, but my voice sounds abnormally high-pitched. Fail.

"Um..." Mom says, glancing at my dad.

He sighs. "Your mother and I have been talking." Nothing good ever comes after that phrase. "And we've decided that it might be best...if we...um...separated."

"You're getting a divorce?" I glance in confusion between the two of them. I thought they were going to wait until I was out of the house. This isn't bad news at all, though. Why are they so upset? This divorce will end the years of fighting that have basically torn our house apart.

"Um...yes," Dad says. "We are getting a divorce. Your mother is moving to District 7, to live with her sister-"

"Until I find a place of my own," Mom says, frowning at Dad.

"Right. We know this is hard on you" (haha, sure it is) "and we wouldn't do this if there was any other option," (Thank the good Lord up above that there isn't) "but there isn't another option. Anyway, we're going to let you decide where you want to live. With me?"

"Or me?" Mom smiles encouragingly at me.

Ok, that I was not expecting. They're finally doing it, making me choose between them. And the choice is obvious, but not because I'm choosing one over the other. But there's no way I'm leaving the Capitol.

"I want to stay here." My dad started to say something (probably arrogantly) to my mom, but I cut him off, "It's not because I like Dad more than you, Mom. I just don't want to leave."

Mom sighs. "I had a feeling you'd say that. I'll be leaving after Christmas, so we can spend one more together as a family." Oh great, what joy! Oh, wait. Last year they spent the whole holiday fighting over whose parents we should go visit. They finally had me choose, and I chose staying at home, because I hate spending Christmas at my grandparents'.

"Is that all?" I ask.

Dad nods. As I get up to go back to my napping, he stops me. "You're taking this really well, Johanna. Are you sure you're ok?" I nod quickly. My dad is a psychiatrist, so he's always trying to analyze my feelings. As a result, I tend to not show my feelings. I can't tell you how many therapy sessions I'll have to go through with him after Mom leaves, "just to make sure I'm ok." It'll be awful.

It's times like these that I really wish Clove had a phone. Because a part of me is a bit upset about this. Do my parents not love me enough to keep trying to stay together? I push that thought down. I'll see Clove on Monday, and I can talk to her then.