the ballad of desolation

6. SEIZE THE DAY (THIRD PERSON)

DAY TWO OF NO JOLENE WAS COMPLICATED ON THE BARDS. Poor Eileen called just about every blonde lady in the Hob Jo. Suki didn't talk to Judah. Eurydice got more dissociative and protective.

The morning was just as silent as it has been since the Reaping. Judah still sleeps on their ratty couch and watches over the house. His body aches from working out in the sun all day and dragging his feet back to the Seam and into his "bed." He was lucky enough to sell some papers and get old coffee grounds in return. While pacing around the house and pulling on his shirt and pants, three short knocks echo through the silent rooms. He sighs and slips a suspender over his shoulder, walking to the door.

"Heya, Jude," Patch, his work partner, grins, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips.

"Whaddya need?" He grumbles, putting a hand on the door frame and leaning down to look at him.

"Not much, not much, just wonderin' when you'll be finished dressin' up. Who ya gonna impress, eh? The ladies?" He teases, wiggling his eyebrows at him suggestively.

"I ain't dressing up for nobody, Patch. Yer definitely not. I mean, the eye patch and refusing to shave that five o'clock shadow aren't doin' much ladies wise," Judah scoffs.

"Hey, the ladies care what's underneath and my charm," Patch argues, his hands vaguely tracing his scrawny figure.

"Oh, yeah, the charm." Judah just shakes his head and takes his hat from the coat hanger Eurydice made a few years back. Jo's coat still sits there. Judah nearly lets out a scream of anger and despair remembering the memories of her in that coat. Patch notices his sorrow-filled face and claps his hands in front of his face.

"C'mon, sunny. Johnny's waitin' with our papes in the square." Before Judah can thank him, Patch already has his arm around his neck, pulling him out the house.

"Johnnycake!" Patch yells, waving an arm out for his attention. Johnny had a hard time seeing and hearing well so yelling and squinting was frequently used between the boys.

"Huh?" He shouts back, looking around for who might've just yelled for him. Eventually he spots the two guys. "Patch?"

"And Jude," Judah adds, jogging up to him, Patch following right behind him.

"Hey! I got ya'll some papes. My treat. I traded some coins for bread last night with one of the baker's kids. I had enough for a hundred. Twenty-five for each of us."

"Which kid?" Judah asks, his voice quick.

"Lemme find 'em," Johnny mumbles, looking around, his face scrunched up while he squints. "Ah. That guy." He vaguely points at the same stocky blond guy I got drunk with, some newspapers under his arm, talking with a young girl who's digging through a tiny sack in her hand. "Pete, maybe. I dunno, he was talkin' too quick."

"Peeta," Judah corrects.

"Peter?" Johnny asks.

"No, Peeta," He says.

"That's what I said, no?"

"It's Peeta," Judah says louder, leaning closer, getting the attention of some people walking past and even Peeta's own attention.

"Jeez, don't gotta yell," Johnny snarks, putting a hand up in surrender.

"Hey, Judah!" Peeta rushes over, his fist squeezed shut, the sounds of coins smacking together catch Patch's full attention.

"Hi, Peeta," he greets, ruffling his hair when he stops next to the boys.

"Whatcha doin' selling papes? Ain't you got a job already?" Patch asks, raising his bushy eyebrow at him.