#nancymay

Katniss reached out, her fingers fumbling as she tried to pick up the key. It was really a very non-descript piece of dull metal. Something that could easily be lost again, dropped down the back of a chair or forgotten at the bottom of a drawer. It could be that easy to leave all this behind.

But there was the challenge of those suspicious eyes, watching from across the table for her next move. He wasn’t going to volunteer any more of his story; not without some sort of a fight. “Suits me,” she muttered and pushed back her chair. Swinging her mane of dark hair over one shoulder, she reached back to untie the leather cord that always stayed around her neck.  Briskly, she pulled the locket out from her shirt, pretending not to care what he thought about her still wearing it, and threaded on the key so they clinked together.

She raised her eyes to his defiantly. “For safe keeping.”

He still wouldn’t speak to her. He had said too much already.

“I suppose a visit to the bank is called for then,” she sighed, her energy sapped by his resistance. “Will you walk with me at least...Please?”

It was her pleading that broke his resolve.

On the way, they had to pass by the park. It had been changed, fewer trees and more play equipment. Less places to hide. “Remember how we….” kept starting in her head, but there was no point in that. She was sick of it; this whole day and the way things were between them. She kicked at the gravel, dragged back to a much younger version of herself. “Fuck it,” she thought, there was nothing to lose anyway. “I’ll race you!” she picked up her speed a little turning to see his puzzled expression.

“First one to the swing is the winner!”

He shook his head, but couldn’t help a small smile from sneaking out.

“Scared I’ll beat you?” she taunted and jogged in place, before setting off.

“Fuck it all,” she thought and let herself run. Her boots were heavy but she pounded down the path, pumping her arms, the locket and key hitting her chest with each stride.

Blind to the looks of joggers, she sprinted past them helter skelter, focused only on her own race. She could practically hear young Katniss, laughing at her breathlessness and how weak she had grown.  Approaching the swing set, all she could see was a blur of red through either her sweat or tears. She seriously wondered if she had started to lose her mind, as well as everything else that had been taken from her. Until he passed her, his familiar lolloping gait rousing her spirit. No way was he going to beat her now. She gave a last spurt, brushing his shoulder as she made it past him to the prize. First to sit on the swing.

He fell down on the grass at her feet, hands thrown back over his head, chest heaving, and peered out from under his arms. Of course she had beaten him. He sat up and rubbed his damp hands through his hair, realising he was glad that hadn’t changed.

“You always have to win don’t you Everdeen.”

“If you think I’ve won, then tell me,” she gasped, still barely able to speak. “What did you find in your father’s deposit box?”

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