Windgrass (A Hunger Games Fan Fiction)

Seventeen: Distraction

My mother annoys me sometimes.

Out of nowhere, she started cleaning the house. It’s not very messy to begin with, but still, she began cleaning it like President Snow was coming to visit our little hovel.

I was essentially kicked out and told to visit the leatherworker Tally Taylor to have various belts and shoes repaired. Something to keep me busy, I suppose. I made sure to go as far away from C as possible. I didn’t want to stumble upon anything unpleasant and unsettling. Kael wandered up beside me at some point.

“What’s the deal with you and Ripley?” he asked coldly.

“What about it?” I snipped. Not something I wanted to talk about right then.

“Rumors are starting to spread. I’ve heard that you two have been seen together,” he mumbled, so no one would overhear us.

“What does it matter to you?” I demanded, glancing at him sharply.

The look in his eyes worries me. The normally bright color has turned hard and cold, like cut sapphires.

“It matters because…” he started off strongly, but faded out into a rush of breath and moving lips.

“I don’t have time for this, Kael,” I grumbled, brushing past him and hiking the bag with our leather goods up higher on my shoulder. He came after me, after a bit, following at the same pace but further behind me. I go a bit faster; he matches my speed. Fastser; matches. Faster; matches.

Soon I’m running down the street as fast as I can, out of the anger of being pursued.

“Leave me alone, Kael!!” I cried over my shoulder.

“Stop running away!!” he cried back.

I glanced back, and see him struggling to keep me in sight. He’s pressed one hand to his side, and is hunched over. I’m barely breaking a sweat. I must be swifter than I thought. The Grove works wonders, I suppose. I slow and come to a stop; he staggered up to me, placing his hands on my shoulders and panting heavily.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

“I like you, Fiore.”

The statement leaves me dumbstruck.

“Ever since we were kids… at school… I’ve really… really liked you…” he continued.

I couldn’t think of anything to say or do, so I made up an excuse. “My mother needs these back as soon as possible. I have to go.”

“I don’t care if you don’t like me back, Fiore!” he called as I walked away. “Well, I do actually, but… the point is I’m telling you! Now you know, so just… keep that in mind when you play with your Peacekeeper.”

Tears stung my eyes as I approached the address scribbled on a scrap of paper by my mother, in her neat, easy-to-read handwriting.

Too much, far too much, is happening all at once. I don’t know what to do.