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jhsgf82 · 2 years

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Feel the Beat, Always Part I

A/N: Thanks to @daydreamsandcaffeine for encouraging me to write this and for the little brainstorm session! I’m not very good with edits, but above is a little visual anyway. It’s kinda long. Enjoy!

Katniss raises her arms above her head, stretching her lean, lithe body; she links her thumbs, bends her knees, and arches her chest as she drops her head back, leading with her fingers. Slowly, she goes into a full standing backbend, then drops down and catches herself. She bends her elbows and goes into a reverse tabletop position for about ten seconds, then lowers herself down to the mat.

She’s been up since sunrise, limbering up and running through her dance routine, twice. Now she’s completing her post-dance stretches. Maybe she’ll go through the routine once more though, for good measure.

After all, her big audition is TODAY.

And big shot producer, Alma Coin, is going to be there.

Dance is Katniss Everdeen’s life. And she’s good at it, really good. Oh, she’s not a star by any means, but she’s managed to land a couple of larger roles which have gotten her name out there, and she’s kept steady gigs in the chorus line of several popular stage shows. It’s been enough to make a living without having to work two or three jobs, which is a small miracle here in New York City. Her place isn’t a penthouse, obviously, nor is it a rat’s hole‒it’s just a simple loft, and it’s just right for her. What she loves best is that there’s plenty of space to dance.

A small town girl leaving her small town life to make it as a performer in “the big city” is relatively unheard of–well, no, not unheard of. It’s all too common. What’s not common is being successful at it. But Katniss has talent, and she’s aware of it. She can sing; she can dance, and if only she could act, she’d be a triple threat; however, she sucks at acting. But that’s okay. She doesn’t really need to; she can make her body work for her when her words and facial expressions fail her.

Katniss goes into a butterfly stretch.

Her mangy old muddy-orange cat, Buttercup, whom she inherited when her grandmother passed, comes up beside her, brushing her with his tail as he passes. He stops to stretch out beside her, elongating his body and sticking his butt in the air as he digs his nails into the gray and beige geometric-patterned rug. Then he trots over and jumps up on her couch and assumes the loaf position. Lazily, he watches her with rotten squash-colored eyes. He blinks at her once, and Katniss’s lips twitch.

Buttercup, an unlikely companion (and one she didn’t like very much at first), is quite possibly the ugliest cat she’s ever seen with his mashed-in nose and half an ear missing. He was definitely unwanted at first, but he’s grown on her. He’s her only company, truly, the only person in her life, and he’s not even a person. Well, Katniss hasn’t had a date in…some number of years, but that’s okay. She doesn’t really need anyone; she only needs the stage.

As for family, there’s only her dad. She’s an only child, and her mom left when she was little. She does try to call her father at least once a week. They don’t have much to talk about, but they get each other all the same. For one, he’s good about not guilt-tripping her for never coming to visit; he’s just happy to hear her voice. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go back to New Hope, West Virginia, or maybe she doesn’t. Admittedly, it would be too hard to see…certain persons, namely one, and of course, she’d have to hear everyone drone on and on about how she abandoned the town to make her way in NYC.

She finishes her stretches, showers, braids her long hair up in a high braid, and dresses in her dance attire as she doesn’t know what the changing room situation will be like‒she hates crowding in a room with dozens of other girls, all fighting over the last mirror. Not that Katniss cares about the mirror so much; she’s not a heavy makeup wearer. She checks the weather, and of course, it’s raining, so she grabs a trench coat and slips into it on her way out. In the elevator, she buttons it partially up and cinches it at the waist.

Midtown traffic is a killer, per usual. Actually, it seems much, much worse today. What the heck is going on? It takes her nearly twenty minutes to hail a cab, and her once leisurely commute is suddenly a rush. When the cab comes to a stop, she says a silent thanks. But then, she sees a middle-aged woman with long gray hair across the street, and she’s going for the same cab as her.

Oh no, no way. That’s my cab! thinks Katniss.

Her competitive side kicking in (and also her survival instinct‒Katniss Everdeen doesn’t get pushed around by anyone), she runs for the cab as fast as she can in her character heels, and without being hit by traffic. Fortunately, it’s come to a crawl. The other woman gets to the cab just ahead of her and opens the door, and Katniss slips right in, calling out, “Thank you!”

“This is my cab!” the woman screeches.

“I’m sorry, but it’s a matter of life or death.” Katniss shuts the door and gives the driver the address, and he’s speeding off, leaving the woman standing there in the rain‒she’s lost her umbrella, so she’s getting pelted. For a moment, Katniss feels bad, but she can’t miss this audition; this is her big break. Wherever the woman has to go, it can’t be as important as where she’s going. She probably has some cushy office job, anyway, where it doesn’t matter much if you’re a few minutes late.

Briefly, Katniss thinks of someone she used to know. He was always such a do-gooder that he’d never approve of this kind of behavior. He’d never make it in this city, she thinks; NYC would chew him up and spit him out. Even so, she decides to do something nice for some random stranger later in his honor; perhaps she’ll buy coffee for the next person in line at Starbucks after she nails this audition.

-----

Katniss gets to her audition with only five minutes to spare. It’s good she decided to wear her crop top and tights to the audition rather than change there; now she only needs to dry off her shoes a bit, so she doesn’t slip.

When her name is called with a group of several others, Katniss heads confidently to the stage. She’s not nervous, not really. There was a time when she used to get nervous before auditions, but such a thing does no good. It’s better to appear confident, even if you’re not; although, she is.

Katniss performs the routine perfectly. She noticed a couple of the dancers getting off the beat, but it didn’t throw her a bit. Those two will surely be cut. She makes it through the first round of cuts, and then the second, and she’s practically flying, her smile wide, her face glowing with hope and just a bit of perspiration.

“Now, Ms. Alma Coin would like to have a look at you,” Coin’s assistant, who’s been doing the cuts, says.

Katniss stands tall, strikes a pose, and smiles just as the cab woman walks out on stage.

Oh crap.

Katniss prays this woman won’t recognize her, but of course, she does, her thin, lipstick-less mouth curling up into a snarl-grimace. Then she hopes for Ms. Coin to be professional, to choose the best dancers, regardless of petty vendettas. But no. She immediately begins dressing her down for her outlandish behavior, says she’d never allow such a disgraceful person to perform in one of her shows. It seems a bit much to Katniss. Just because she inconvenienced her and ticked her off she’s going to ban her from being in any of her shows? And not only that, but Ms. Coin also declares, in an overly dramatic fashion, that her ‘career is over.’

She can’t just decide that, announce that she’ll never work on Broadway again!

Katniss tries to explain herself, smooth things over, but that only results in her accidentally knocking Alma Coin off the stage and injuring her. Not knowing what else to do, Katniss rushes out of the audition.

-----

On her way back to her apartment, she receives several texts from her friend Cinna. Apparently, someone captured a video of her knocking Alma Coin off the stage and posted it on social media. The ridiculous thing is up to 30,000 views.

Cinna, what am I gonna do? she texts.

Cinna: Just give it some time. Lay low and try again after a month or so. It’ll die down.

A month? she texts back. I don’t have a month. I’m already behind on my rent since the money from my last show ran out, and I’m sure my sleazebag landlord isn’t gonna be happy.

Cinna: Don’t worry, darlin. Just let me know if you need some money.

I don’t take charity, Cinna, she texts.

Cinna: I know.

-----

Over the next three weeks, Katniss does everything she can to make ends meet, even cocktail waitressing, something she never thought she’d (or wanted to) go back to. Additionally, Cinna had the brilliant idea that she should audition for Portia Rose, a big Broadway producer, who’s apparently the only one not intimidated by Alma Coin. But how is she going to audition for her? Her agent dropped her after the video, and it isn’t exactly easy to take meetings with wealthy show biz people.

Her one chance comes after Cinna does a little detective work and discovers that Portia will be dining at the ritzy Capitol Bar & Grille for lunch Friday afternoon. It might be crazy, but if Katniss can put on a performance on the sidewalk as Portia is coming out of the restaurant, maybe she’ll catch her eye. Dressed in her best dance ensemble, a sparkly silver little number designed by Cinna, she waits outside for Portia. Sure enough, she’s there, and the moment she leaves the restaurant with her group, Katniss goes right into it.

Unfortunately, Portia either doesn’t notice her or doesn’t care because she walks right by. As she’s trying to get her attention, Katniss runs into a hot dog vendor and ends up covered in ketchup and mustard.

For the topper on the crap sundae that is her day, and her life, when she gets back to her apartment, her stuff is in the halls and there’s an EVICTED notice on her door in bold black letters. And the locks have been changed. Did her asshole landlord throw her out with no real notice?! Okay, so maybe he’d been threatening her for weeks, but how could he just toss her stuff into the halls and change the locks? It could’ve been stolen! At least he put Buttercup in his cat carrier rather than turn him loose. She considers going to her landlord to plead her case, but he’s already made it clear he won’t be lenient anymore, that is, unless she wants to sleep with him. She’d rather be homeless. She doesn’t want to live in a place managed by such a creep anyway.

Katniss slumps against her door between the boxes and slides down to a seated position. Her head falls back against the door with a thunk. Buttercup yowls from beside her, and she sticks her fingers through the holes of the carrier to let him sniff her.

“We’re gonna be okay, Buttercup. We’ll be o-kay.”

Just then, her phone rings, and as if he sensed her despair, it’s her dad.

She hesitates, then answers the video call. “Hey, Dad.” She attempts for bright and cheery, but she’s sure she’s grimacing, and she can feel hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Katniss hasn’t cried in years, not since her mom left, and she doesn’t plan to start now.

“Hey, Catkin! How’s my best girl?”

“Just…paying my dues, Dad,” she mutters. She can’t fake it much longer, but she doesn’t exactly want to give him the deets.

“It’ll happen, sweetie,” her dad assures. “You’re so talented. You’re gonna make it.” He goes on to tell her how proud he is of her and how he’s saved the playbills she’s sent him for all of her Broadway shows. He’s only made it to one of her shows, but she knows that was difficult enough for him to manage, so she’s thankful.

“Thanks, Dad,” she says, plastering on a small smile.

“Are you…sitting in the hallway?” he asks.

Oh God. She positions the phone to ensure he only has a view of the door, not the boxes and bags littering the hall.

“Yeah, just, uh, waiting for my take-out,” she says. And he seems to buy it. Her dad knows how much she loves food.

“Oh,” he clears his throat, “what’d you get?”

“Chinese,” she answers immediately.

“Oh. Sounds good.”

There’s a pause.

“Well, uh, Dad, I think that’s my food coming up the stairs now, so I better…”

“Okay, honey. Call me later. Love you.”

“You too.” She hangs up and sighs.

She stares across the hallway at her neighbor’s door until she hears a little ding. She looks down at her phone. It’s from Dad.

Dad: You can’t fool me, sweetie. Just come home.

Dad: You can stay in your old room as long as you want. It’s all set for you. Haven’t changed a thing.

Katniss sighs. She doesn’t want her dad to think she couldn’t hack it; she doesn’t want to admit failure. But what else can she do? Presently, this city is sucking the life out of her, and she needs a recharge. She can crash at home, er her old home, maybe get a job and save up some money, and once she’s back on her feet, she can work on getting to Portia again.

-----

Against her will, her dad bought her a plane ticket and insisted on picking her up at the small New Hope airport. Probably for the best. There aren’t any cabs. Even Ubers are extremely rare. And unless she wants to hitch a ride on Old Farmer Diggs’ tractor, it’s best that she lets her father pick her up.

They sit quietly in his truck; Katniss has barely said anything since their greeting and hug at the airport. After several minutes pass, her dad starts humming a little song they used to sing together, which successfully breaks the ice, and she starts humming, then singing along. Her dad has an amazing voice, always has. She swears he can make the birds stop to listen. Truthfully, he was her inspiration to get into show business, although she's more confident and comfortable dancing than singing.

Just as they’ve passed the New Hope sign, “So, uh, heard from your mom lately?” her dad asks out of the blue, effectively putting the ice wall back up.

“Nope,” she replies. She doesn’t know why he would think she would after all these years.

Suddenly, Katniss has a terrible thought. Not that she should care about what the person who abandoned her thinks, but… “I hope she didn’t see the video.” Katniss groans. “Or anyone in town. I’d die.”

“Oh, now, don’t be too full of yourself, sweetie. People around here have other things to worry about, you know. Their own lives.”

“I know.”

“Probably just me stalking your Instabook.”

“That’s Instagram, Dad.” Katniss smirks.

“That’s what I said.” Her dad laughs a little, and Katniss’s lips quirk. But not long after, her lips curve into a frown. “I hate the internet,” she says on exhale.

“Me too,” her dad replies. “Just keep up with it for my pride and joy.”

That brings another little smile from her.

They’re driving past Town Hall when they see Coach Odair and his football team. He’s barking at them to pick up their feet and run faster, so they’re not the slowest football team out there, as well as other little passive-aggressive encouragements.

Katniss’s dad throws up his hand. “Hey, Finnick.”

“Hey, Mr. E, how ya doing?” Finnick waves back, then proceeds to ride his team.

“I see the football team still sucks,” remarks Katniss.

“Ah, they’ve had their good years and bad. Finn’s a good coach. He rides ‘em hard, but he’s actually a big softie.”

That sounds about right.

Katniss and her father make idle conversation about his job in the mines, which Katniss wishes he’d give up, and about the possibility of making the farm his sole source of income, which she encourages. But he isn’t a risk taker, he tells her. Not like her.

“Some risk taker,” she mumbles. “I take these huge risks and fail.” Katniss sighs, and Buttercup meows from the truck bed. “I really screwed up, Dad.”

“Oh now, honey. That’s what the term risk implies, that you might fail. But you haven’t failed. This is just one missed opportunity, a minor setback after multiple successes. Like you said, in a profession such as yours, you’re bound to have to pay some dues.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Come on, gimme a smile.” She does her best to. “Aw, you can do better than that.”

“This might be the best I have in me right now, Dad.”

“Ah, that can’t be it. Hey, I know what you need…cheese.”

Katniss quirks a brow. She does love cheese. Cheese and chocolate: two substances she could pretty much eat (or drink) her weight in.

“Or better yet, cheese buns!”

“No, Dad.” Katniss shakes her head. “Can’t we just get some cheese at the market? You know I can’t go to the bakery‒”

“Not to worry, Catkin. He won’t be there. He’s never there this time of day. I’ll even go in for you, just in case.”

----

Katniss waits outside Mellark’s Bakery while her father goes in for bread and cheese buns. She decides to get out of the truck for some fresh air. As she leans up against the truck, she cranes her neck to see if she can see who’s inside working.

“Katniss?”

Katniss spins at the sound of the high-pitched affected accent of who could be none other than Ms. Effie Trinket, her dance teacher from when she was a pre-teen through high school.

Sure enough, there she is. She’s a bit older, though she looks much the same (probably thanks to Botox, and all the makeup). Naturally, her hair is dyed a vibrant color; today, it’s bright pink. She’s dressed in her usual flamboyant style and wearing at least three or four-inch stilettos. She’d always change into dance shoes for practices, but otherwise, she’d be wearing high heels around town.

“Oh, h-hey, Ms. Trinket.” Although she’s married to the surly town drunk with a heart of gold, she still uses her maiden name. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain, dear. How are you?” She raises her voice on ‘you.’ “The big Broadway star!”

Katniss feels her shoulders slumping, but she puts on the hint of a smile. “Fine. Just fine. How’s Haymitch?”

“Oh, goodness! He’ll be the death of me, I’m sure of it!” she wails.

“You two are still…together?”

“Heavens, yes.” Then Effie launches into a number of complaints about her alcoholic husband, who is apparently sober now (for the most part) and assistant coaching the football team, interspersed with sprinklings of praises throughout. These two have an interesting relationship. They’re so different, yet somehow, they’ve made it work all these years.

“And what about you, dear? Any special man in your life?”

Katniss shakes her head. “No, not really.” She knew it was a mistake mentioning Effie’s relationship, for it was bound to lead to questions about her own, or lack thereof.

“Oh, speaking of, I just saw Peeta!” trills Effie Trinket.

Katniss feels as though a large thorn has been jabbed into her side at the mention of his name.

“Peeta?” another voice chimes in. “Oh, I saw him this morning!” Delly Cartwright has just strolled up the sidewalk hand in hand with her little girl, a light brunette girl with her hair in buns wearing a pink tutu and leotard. The last time Katniss saw her, she was a baby; she recalls that her name is Emmy. “Katniss! Is that really you?!”

What is this? A reunion?

Well, Katniss knew she was bound to run into people from her past in town. But does every one of them need to bring Peeta up?

Katniss nods and smiles faintly, and Delly claps her on the back.

“I thought it was you, but I couldn’t be sure! I mean, I thought you were in N-Y-C. I’m so glad you’re back.”

“I’m not back,” Katniss protests, though they both seem to ignore her.

“Ohhh,” Ms. Trinket claps her hands together. “It’s almost as if nothing has changed.”

Delly smiles. “Minus Katniss and Peeta being attached at the lips, that is.” She giggles.

Another thorn in her side.

Katniss rolls her eyes out of Delly’s sight. It wasn’t like Peeta and she were super into PDA. Okay, maybe they were. Peeta, anyway. Oh, he was perfectly fine with showing his affection for her anywhere and everywhere, and he was, quite frankly, hard to resist, so that made Katniss a little more lax on her no-PDA policy.

“Have you seen him yet?” asks Delly.

“Who?” Katniss plays dumb.

“Peeta!” exclaims Delly.

“Uh, no, I haven’t.”

“He’ll be glad to see you.”

No, he won’t, thinks Katniss.

“You know, back then, you two were pretty cute,” says Delly. “Some people thought you were a little sickening,” Delly giggles again, “but I always thought you two were perfect together. I really thought you were gonna get married and have a bunch of babies.”

Yeah, well, that was a long time ago, Delly. People grow up. They change.

“Oh, but then you went off to dance school while Peeta waited at home and you got that audition in Manhattan, and then came ‘the text’.” Delly uses air quotes.

Why is she giving her the play-by-play? As if Katniss doesn’t remember what happened.

“Oh yes, the text!” bleats Effie. “How scandalous!”

Katniss certainly doesn’t need to be reminded of the infamous text. She can’t help that she’s no good at saying things and chose the worst way possible to break up with her high school sweetheart. And apparently, Peeta went around telling everyone in town about it. She can’t believe he did that.

“When you two broke up, it really messed with his head, you know,” says Delly. No, she didn’t. “He was moping around town for months, barely spoke to anyone, and you know how friendly he normally is. We were all very concerned about his depression.”

Peeta was depressed? Katniss feels awful about that, but it was the way it had to be. It wouldn’t have worked out with her going to New York, and Peeta, quite obviously, wanting to stay in their hometown. Whatever existed between them was nice while it lasted, but it’s gone now.

“Oh, you remember my youngest, don’t you, Katniss?” Delly pulls Katniss from her reverie, presenting the little girl in the tutu. She’s holding a stuffed pig. “She was in Pampers last time you saw her. Emberlyn. Emmy for short.”

“Of course, I remember,” says Katniss as sweetly as possible. “Hello, Emmy. You’ve gotten big.”

“Hasn’t she?! And she’s taking dance now, just like you!”

“That’s nice.”

“Ohh, and she’s doing just marvelously!” Effie chimes in. She bends slightly at the waist as she can’t quite squat in her skirt and heels and taps Emmy on the nose. “You know, Miss Emberlyn, Miss Katniss was my star pupil.”

“That’s right!” chirps Delly. “And star soloist in the choir, too.”

Wow, that was a long time ago. Does everyone in this town have the memory of an elephant?

“And now she’s on Broadway!” adds Ms. Trinket with an air of pure pride that makes Katniss feel sick to her stomach. She hates the thought of letting down these people who believe in her.

“How’s Gale?” deflects Katniss, needing a change of subject.

But it’s short-lived as all Delly says about her husband is: “Oh, same old Gale, you know.”

Katniss nods and says, “Give him my best.”

“Will do!” bubbles Delly.

“Oh, darling,” Ms. Trinket interjects, “while you’re in town, you simply must come by and see the girls at the dance studio!”

“Uh,” Katniss pauses, “I’d love that, Ms. Trinket…except…” She pauses. Being in a dance studio is the last place Katniss wants to be after the audition debacle; she doesn’t want to be anywhere near anything related to dance, in fact. Plus, she knows her dad was just blowing steam and she actually is under the town’s scrutiny‒it’s a smaaall town‒and she can’t face the looks and little whispers once they learn what a failure she is and how she blew her big shot. And as primitive as this little town is, someone is bound to see that video and pass it along. She doesn’t want to lie to them, and yet she can’t stand the notion of telling them the truth, either. So, she lies. “Except, it’s my dad. He’s sick.”

As soon as she says it, her dad walks out of the bakery, a white bag tucked under each arm. He shoots her a curious glance.

“Oh dear,” says Ms. Trinket. “I do hope it’s nothing serious.” She looks between Katniss and her father.

Katniss looks to her father. “Oh no, don’t worry. I’m fine,” he says. “Catkin is just being overprotective, you know.”

Katniss glimpses Delly, who also has a concerned look on her face. “Always such a trooper, Mr. E! Well, I’m gonna bake you a casserole!”

Ah, small town hospitality.

“Well, um, we…better be going, Dad.”

“You’ll consider stopping by the studio?” Ms. Trinket jumps in before they can get in the truck. “Perhaps around…5:30? I know you need to take care of your father, but the girls…it’d be such a thrill for them. I’d hate to disappoint them.”

Katniss opens her mouth, but her father speaks for her. “Of course she’ll be there. I can get by for an hour or two on my own, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint the girls, now would we?” Her father gives her a pointed look, and she’s toast. Although, why would they be disappointed if Ms. Trinket hasn’t told them anything yet?

Katniss looks between her father and Ms. Trinket then says, “Sure, I’ll be there at 5:30.”

“Wonderful!” shrieks Effie. “Well, you feel better now.” She pats Mr. Everdeen’s shoulder and announces that she’s off. Delly tosses out some last well wishes, a ‘good to see you, Katniss’, and a promise for that casserole ASAP.

-----

After waving goodbye to her father, Katniss stands outside the New Hope Dance Studio. She stares up at the brightly painted sign with the dandelions on it, which was hand painted by Peeta, she recalls. She takes a couple of deep breaths before making her way inside.

The place hasn’t changed much. It’s still painted a bright sunset orange. The reception area is exactly the same with the box of dance-related pamphlets on the counter and a couple of spare leotards and tutus hanging on the wall. She wanders over to the opposite wall with the corkboard. This area has changed a little. Namely, there’s a large framed collage photo of Katniss in various stages of growth in dance attire as well as the newspaper clipping with the story about how a local girl made it big in NYC on Broadway, also framed.

Miss Trinket hums as she comes up behind Katniss. “I know I only taught you for 6 years 10 months and 22 days before you went off to real dance school in Chicago, but I’d like to think I had a hand in you becoming a Broadway sensation.”

Katniss turns, smiles faintly, and nods.

“Thank you, Ms. Trinket,” she humbles herself. “I’m grateful.”

Miss Trinket sniffles and looks like she’s about to cry. She waves her hand in front of her face, then says with a hopeful expression, “Grateful enough to teach a master class, or three?”

Katniss sighs. Not that grateful, no.

“Oh, but don’t worry about that right now.” Effie tugs on Katniss’s arm. “Come on, let’s not keep the girls waiting.”

Once inside the dance studio, which also looks exactly the same, and could probably use some renovations, Katniss surveys the young dancers while Ms. Trinket brings over a folding chair for her. Delly is also there. She’s a committed dance mom, of course.

“Have a seat now, dear,” says Ms. Trinket. Then she turns to the girls. “Girls, this is Miss Katniss. She was one of my best students and is now a big Broadway star! Make her feel welcome, please!”

The girls all clap, save for one. Katniss catches sight of none other than Primrose Mellark off to the side, and she looks none too pleased to see her.

As for the rest of them, Katniss does her best to commit their faces and names to memory as best she can as Ms. Trinket introduces them. Meanwhile, Delly is signing alongside her.

There’s a deaf girl with pale skin, amber eyes, and bright red hair. Katniss has already forgotten her name, but her face and nose is elongated like a fox, so she’s calling her Foxface. So, it must be for her benefit that Delly is using sign language.

There’s Rue, a dark-skinned girl with soft brown eyes who gives off a very birdlike quality. At least she has the body of a dancer, so there could be hope for her yet.

Then there’s a girl named Camille, who places a flower crown she made atop Katniss’s head. Katniss recalls Peeta doing the same thing one day in the meadow. It feels like so long ago…

Speaking of Peeta, Katniss knew that Prim was interested in dance because she used to prance around in front of her constantly. And she didn’t seem half-bad for her age. She wonders how she’s progressed. Hopefully, she’s learned some actual steps.

Katniss doesn’t know Peeta’s youngest sister as well, but she seems energetic, and maintains close proximity to her brooding older sister.

Delly’s girls are there as well as Finnick Odair’s brood: a little girl with dark brown hair and sea green eyes named Morgan, and apparently, he leaves his son Rusty, a bronze-haired, green-eyed boy, there while he’s at football practice. Rusty just watches and colors.

Ms. Trinket gets through the introductions, then decides it would be fabulous to have a Q&A session with Katniss, so the girls can learn from a real life success story.

They ask questions like: When did you start dancing? Does the most talented dancer always get the part? Etc. And Katniss answers in brief. When one of them asks what show she’s in now, Katniss moves on to another topic.

They’re all overly excited now, as if they’ve had sugar, and just about every one of them has announced that they want to be on Broadway someday. One of them raises her hand and asks how to get on Broadway.

“Well, first of all, don’t ever make a mistake in front of anyone important,” Katniss says. Alright, so maybe she’s a bit jaded from her recent experience. “But here’s the thing. You don’t always know who the important people are, so that means you can never make a mistake in front of anyone, ever. Oh, and also, hard work and talent.”

The girls are staring blankly at her.

Katniss knows she should stop, but she keeps going. “I’d say you all have a .0001 percent chance of making it.” Delly signs it, then adds an enthusiastic little fist pump after as if to soften the blow.

Despite Delly’s false enthusiasm, their faces collectively fall. And a few of them are even cuddling each other for comfort. But it’s better she tells them the honest truth now before they go out and fall on their faces. They look like criers.

This seems like a good time to take her leave, so Katniss excuses herself (but not before Ms. Trinket slips a dance competition flyer into her bag). She feels a little bad about dashing those little girls’ hopes, but maybe she’s done them a favor. The life of a Broadway dancer is not at all glamorous.

When she steps outside, Katniss is blindsided by the sight of her father standing next to none other than Peeta Mellark.

Katniss comes to an abrupt stop and gapes.

“Look who I ran into, Catkin,” her dad says.

Peeta is grinning at her. And he looks great. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” says he.

“Peeta,” she mutters like an idiot, blinking rapidly. She’s not sure why she’s reacting this way; it’s not like she didn’t know it was a strong possibility she’d run into him while she was home.

“You remembered.” He smirks.

Katniss clears her throat. “Of course.”

“So, the rumors are true. You’re back,” Peeta says. And she can’t tell if he’s happy about that or simply stating the fact.

“Temporarily,” she clarifies. “I’m just home visiting my dad. He’s…” She looks to her father, who quickly chimes in with the fake story she made up in order to save face, which is probably already going around town anyway.

“I’m sick,” her father chimes in. “I’ve been sick.”

“Oh,” Peeta’s brow furrows. “Really? Mr. E, I’m…” Peeta doesn’t finish his sentence, but instead lays a hand on Mr. Everdeen’s shoulder.

“Yeah…” Her dad gives a clearly fake cough. “I better go rest…in my truck.”

Peeta nods solemnly, but the quirk to his lip indicates he knows it’s a lie. “Feel better, Mr. E. I’ll bake you a pie,” he promises as he waves goodbye to him.

Well, at least thanks to her lie her father is going to be well-fed. He’ll have Delly’s casserole and now Peeta’s pie, both delicious.

Once they’re alone, Katniss offers Peeta a thin smile. “So, um, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” repeats Peeta, clearly amused. “Did they wipe your memory while you were in New York? I’m picking up my sisters from dance class. Remember Primrose and Poppy?”

“Of course I remember Primrose and Poppy.”

They stand there a moment, Katniss shuffling her feet, Peeta staring at his.

“So,” Peeta speaks up, meeting her eyes again and folding his strong arms across his broad chest. Has he gotten even broader? Peeta always had muscles, but now he’s…like a brick wall. A very cozy brick wall, she’d imagine…

Katniss shakes off her delusional thoughts.

“So,” she repeats, folding her arms and arching a brow. She hopes to appear nonchalant, although she feels completely the opposite.

“So?” he repeats, the corner of his mouth twitching. He still has that damn dimple. Of course he does. She’s not sure why she’d think it would go away, or that it would stop having an effect on her.

When she says nothing more, Peeta starts up a conversation, filling in both his and her parts. “So, how are you, Peeta? What have you been up to?” he says. “I’m great, Kat. Busy. Baking, of course. Doing odd jobs around town. And my Grandma Mags has been getting a little forgetful, so I’ve been taking over more with my sisters. You know, doing the grownup thing. Oh, and by the way, your dad is still on me about fixing the barn from that time we, uh,” he raises his brow, “accidentally started that fire.”

Katniss’s cheeks warm, and Peeta adds proverbial fuel to the fire by saying, “Who knew starting a fire,” he winks, “could actually start a fire?” He gives her a sly grin. “Guess that broken lantern had something to do with it, huh?”

“Guess so,” she mutters, suddenly unable to look him in those blue-blue eyes.

Working up her nerve, Katniss decides to just come out and say what needs to be said. “Look, Peeta.”

“Mhm?” He strokes his chin and stares at her thoughtfully. Why does he have to make everything so difficult.

“Since...” She sucks in a bit of air. “Since I’m going to be back for a bit, and we’re clearly going to be running into each other a lot, I should say…I know I broke your heart.”

Peeta pokes out his lip and bobs his head up and down. Is he mocking her?

“I know I didn’t end things in the most…thoughtful way…”

“‘Sorry to do this in a text,’” Peeta quotes, “‘but I’m going to New York, so we have to break up. -Kat.’ No, see, I thought it was very thoughtfully-worded.”

Katniss smirks and shakes her head at him.

“I just wanted to make sure, uh, that there weren’t any hard feelings…”

“Oh, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss. That was high school. Ancient history. I mean, it’s not like we were ever gonna work out.”

For some reason, the way he says it so casually and cheerfully turns Katniss’s stomach.

“Well, I better be going,” says Peeta, reaching out to graze her arm. She feels an electric current pass between them. He then tosses her father, who’s in his truck across the street, a ‘see ya later’

Mr. Everdeen calls out in reply, “That barn’s not gonna fix itself, young man!” Peeta just laughs.

-----

Katniss is in a foul mood on the drive back to the Everdeen farm. And her dad doesn’t help matters by saying, “Well, it’s good he’s finally over you.”

Katniss grimaces.

“At least his skin’s cleared up.” Katniss shoots her dad a bewildered look, and he quickly changes the subject by pulling the dance brochure out of her bag. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Just some dumb dance competition thing.” Katniss sighs. “Ms. Trinket actually wanted me to teach, can you believe it?”

“Well, I think that’s nice. Means she thinks a lot of your skill.”

“No, it means I’m a failure, Dad. I should be doing the dancing, not teaching.”

“I told you, you’ll get your shot, honey.”

Katniss huffs. Her dad clears his throat and starts reading through the brochure.

“Hey, this doesn’t sound so bad. There’ll be all kinds of big name judges there.” Katniss gives a skeptical exhale. “No, really.” He starts naming them off, one of which he claims she is friends with, although she only danced in a benefit she hosted. “Then there’s,” her dad goes on, “Por-tee-uh Rose.”

Katniss slams on the brakes and pulls off to the side of the road. “Portia Rose?” She snatches the brochure from him, and sure enough, Portia Rose will be one of the celebrity judges at the finals in Atlantic City.

“I’m going to do it, Dad,” she announces. “I’m going to teach dance.”

#JHsgf82 writes #Based on Feel the Beat #Feel the Beat Always #dancer!Katniss #exes!Everlark #Prim and Peeta siblings #Peeta has sisters instead of brothers #Mr. Everdeen is alive #AU #dance teacher!Katniss #dance teacher!Effie #dance dad!Finnick #dance mom!Annie #dance mom!Delly #everlark #Gelly #Odesta #hayffie

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