The Girl With The Silver Eyes

Chapter 3

Katniss

"I had a nice time tonight," I say as Peeta walks me to my truck.

"I still can't believe you've never seen National Lampoon's Vacation before," he chuckles.

"My mother isn't exactly the kind of person to allow me to watch those kind of movies," I say. "She's not usually observant, but when it comes to that kind of stuff, she draws the line."

"I hope I didn't just get you in trouble," he says.

"I can keep a secret if you can," I say opening the door to my truck and putting the key in the ignition. I turn the key but the engine just won't turn over. The damn thing needs tuned up again. I slam my fist against the steering wheel.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Looks like I just bought myself a five mile walk home," I say.

"At eleven thirty in the dark?" Peeta asks. "No, you're staying here."

"You can't make me and I don't even really know you," I say getting out of the truck and grabbing my backpack from behind the seat.

"Please Katniss," he pleads as I start down the drive way."None of my family's home and it's not like you're bothering me here."

"That's a line Mellark," I say slinging my backpack on to my shoulder and stomping down the drive.

"Look, I'd take you home if I could," he says and I scoff. "but I don't have a vehicle right now. Like you, my truck is in desperate need of repair. Its not safe for you to walk home right now. I promise, I'm not trying to play you. I have more class then that. I just want to know my friend is somewhere safe and warm tonight." I stop walking and think it over for a second. "Please Katniss. I promise, I'll help you fix your truck first thing in the morning. You'll be out of here before noon." I turn to him.

"Separate rooms and bathrooms," I say. "If the door is shut, knock before entering."

"Of course," he says. "Anything you want."

"Fine," I say. "I can't really leave my truck here by herself."

"Her?" Peeta asks.

"It was my dad's, you know, before the accident," I say, a tear running down my cheek. "He named her Betsy. My mother's offered to buy me something else, but I just."

"You can't let it go," Peeta says. "It's almost all you have left of your father." I nod and wipe away the tears that start staining my cheeks. Peeta walks towards me and ever so gently wipes the tears away with his thumb. I surprise both him and myself by wrapping my arms around his shoulders, sobbing into his shirt. He very hesitantly wraps me in his warm embrace.

"Hey," he whispers. "Its okay. Please don't cry."

"I'm such a weak person," I say.

"You're only crying because you've been strong for too long," he says. He lifts my chin and smiles gently at me. "Do you want to go back inside now?"

"I guess," I say. I release him and he puts an arm over my shoulder, leading me back into the house. I'm still trying to figure out this boy. It's like he's trying to make a move on me and trying not to at the same time. He's overly nice, but it's not like he's smothering me or creeping me out. He's just way too nice to someone he barely knows.

He takes me inside and leads me upstairs. We stop outside a door.

"My brothers' rooms are disastrous so I guess you can have mine while I take one of their's," he says. He opens the door to reveal a relatively neat bedroom that has somehow been converted into an art studio. "I know it's not very clean but," he starts and I cut him off.

"It's fine," I say. "It's really nice Peeta."

"Do you have anything to wear?" he asks.

"I have an extra pair of clothes in my gym bag," I tell him. "They should work." He nods starts to walk out.

"Goodnight Katniss," he says.

"Goodnight Peeta," I say. "Thank you for giving up your room for me. I know that I wouldn't give up my bed for anyone, not even Prim."

"It's nothing Katniss," he says. "If my brothers do decide to come home tonight, I'd rather they don't find you in one of their beds. They might see it as an invitation."

"Yeah, I don't think I'd rather like that much," I say.

"Well, make yourself at home and I'll wake you tomorrow for breakfast," he says. I step forward and stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight," I whisper. I step back to see a faint blush flood his cheeks.

Goodnight," he says before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. I set my bag on the bed and look around. Everything is neat and tidy except for one area. His desk.

I walk over to it and see its covered in sketchbooks. I pick one up and carefully flip through it. I see beautiful sceneries that are nearly as perfect as a photograph. I flip to a page filled with color, a beautiful sunset over water. A place I know well. The lake my father taught me to swim in. A place that I thought only I knew about. I quickly close the sketchbook and set it aside. I think of looking at another one, but I don't want to invade his privacy.

I go into the bathroom and quickly change into my gym clothes, not that I think Peeta will try to walk in on me, I just don't want to chance it. I pull back the black bedspread and am about to lay down when I notice a n acoustic guitar laying by the bed. I run my fingers over the strings before tentatively picking it up. I remember when my father used to play for me at night and how he taught me. I pick it up and carefully begin to strum the stings. Without realizing it, I begin to form a song and start softly singing.

"Eighty-Nine Cents in the ash tray
Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard
That dirty Braves cap on the dash
Dog tags hangin' from the rear view
Old Skoal can, and cowboy boots and a Go Army Shirt folded in the back
This thing burns gas like crazy, but that's alright
People got their ways of coping
Oh, and I've got mine

I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain's a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck

I leave that radio playing
That same ole country station where ya left it
Yeah, man I crank it up
And you'd probably punch my arm right now
If you saw this tear rollin' down on my face
Hey, man I'm tryin' to be tough
And momma asked me this morning
If I'd been by your grave
But that flag and stone ain't where I feel you anyway

I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain's a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck

I've cussed, I've prayed, I've said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I'm missing you this much

I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain's a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes, brother sometimes

I drive your truck
I drive your truck
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind
I drive your truck"

I feel a tear run down my cheek and hit the face plate. I set the guitar down and lay my head down on the pillow before switching off the lap by the bedside. I wipe away my tears and fall into a peaceful sleep, enveloped in the warmth of the blankets and a sweet scent of cinnamon and dill.