The Same Mistakes

Chapter 2

Haymitch trudged into the kitchen a few minutes later, clad in flannel pants that hung loosely off of him and a black robe that he made no attempt to tie in the front, displaying a white, coffee stained shirt.

He walked to his cabinets, opening three different ones before Peeta shook his head at him, a smile ever present on his face. "The plates are in the third cabinet from the right, Haymitch." He said, earning nothing but a grumble from her lazy, old uncle.

Haymitch all but stumbled into his seat, pouring the stew into his bowl.

The only thing her uncle really shared with her mother, Katniss thought, were the deep blue eyes and the blonde hair. But that is where the similarities ended. Haymitch's nose was set wider on his face, whereas her mother's was slender and his hair was more of a dirtier shade of blonde, darker. Though she wasn't sure it just seemed that way from his lack of washing and grooming it. He also had a rougher face, it seemed tired and weary at all times. But her mother's remained smooth, remained flawless despite the years she'd gone through.

Peeta's chair screeched against his wooden floor and she shifted her gaze away from her uncle. He picked up his plate and took it to the sink, and Katniss stared at his back.

Peeta's hair was short, but the curls still managed to form around his bottom, his blonde hair looked golden in the sun. He was tall, and his shoulders were broad. His bright blue shirt clung to his him, his muscles bulging in his arms.

He looked like the kind of guy Katniss would be sure to avoid at school.

He looked back at them, patting his hands dry on his shirt, smiling warmly. "Well, I've got to go but it was really nice to meet the both of you!"

He patted Prim's head fondly as he made his way out, she beamed at him, excitedly telling him how nice it was to meet him, as well.

"I'll see you guys later," he said, flashing his teeth.

He held Katniss' eye for a beat too long before he waved his hand at her, and Katniss realized, with flushing pink cheeks, that she must have been staring at him.

Katniss turned her attention back to her stew, glancing at Prim for a short second, ignoring the strange smile plastered on her little sister's face.

Haymitch cleared his throat, "So, how's your mom?" he asked, his eyes flittering between both Prim and Katniss.

"Fine." Katniss replied, her usual answer.

"She's okay. Some days she's better, some days she's not." Prim added, her voice sad in a way that Katniss couldn't stand and Haymitch simply nodded.

She didn't care that her mother had abandoned her. Katniss was old enough, she could care for herself. She could handle the sorrow, the grief that came with losing a parent. But her little sister had lost her father when she was just ten, far too young to have to be as sad as she was. And her mother should have been there for Prim. Her mother should have known how to handle her grief for long enough to take care of her youngest daughter.

It was something Katniss would resent her mother for till she died, she was sure of it.

Prim broke a piece of bread with her fingers, her eyes widening as she chewed and swallowed. "This is really good, uncle Haymitch!" She said, her mouth already full with the other half of the bread. "Where did you get this?"

"The boy made it," their uncle said, picking up a roll, turning it in his hand before taking a bite. "He's good at that kinda stuff."

"Who is he? How do you know him?" Katniss blurted. She knew her uncle was somewhat of a freak, but she found that boy to be even a bit more unnerving. Her uncle was the kind of freak she could understand, connect to, even. But the blonde way was out of her realm, unfathomable.