A/N: Had to write this one after listening to Ava Leigh's Mad About the Boy. I really like Johanna, ever since she slapped Katniss' face. And she nailed a rare chemistry with the love of my life. So, here it is. Hope you enjoy. :)


Mad About the Boy


Can't make up my mind about the boy

Sometimes he brings me down

Sometimes he brings me joy

SHE throws the keys on the couch the moment she enters her apartment and goes straight in front of the mirror. Her uneven brown hair is starting to grow but she wishes it would grow faster. A fine‒looking hairbrush sits unused on the dresser screaming, Hey! There's a reason why I'm here, brainless! The big, round eyes stare at her as she contemplates the reason why she is standing there, like a fool must perfectly exhibit. She presses a finger to smooth one too‒uneven eyebrow.

Why, even in this state, Johanna Mason can never be ignored.

And that stupid boy from Twelve did not even give her a second glance. Johanna had never felt more humiliated. I'll let him see, she thinks angrily. I'll give that boy a dose of his own medicine.

Here she is in Two, trying to help with all the mess because Paylor gave her a job here after she is certain that Annie would be fine with a relative in Four. And Gale Hawthorne had the nerve to ask what the hell she is doing in this district before he walked away like a true gentleman. God, had she known he would be that infuriating, she would have taken her axe with her so she could plant it into the bastard's arrogant head.

Still furious with all the mortification Gale had made her feel, she goes to the kitchen to have a beer. It may soothe her nerves; it used to. She plops down on the couch.

It isn't like her life, after all the horror it had faced for the past years, now revolves around making a fuss out of boys who do not notice her. In fact, it is the whole point of it. Johanna wants to worry and be annoyed by things as silly as her looks.

This is the diversion she needs so she can, even just for momentary lapses, forget that the world once turned its back on her.

And this after all was the entire point of the war. So they could go back to being as normal as they could be. Because however broken she is inside, all the shattered pieces — glass, if you may — are still there. At least. Maybe she can still glue them back together because somehow she refuses to die.

Johanna looks at her hands. She isn't a Victor or a rebel anymore. She is now only Johanna.

And what should she do with Only‒Johanna but to burden her with small things, like think about buying new things she could call hers or wonder how some snare‒maker's brain could be so addled to even register the beauty that his eyes has seen? God forgive her, but she is much better looking than Katniss, what with all the kinds of braids she'd sported.

Johanna laughs. She really wants another shot at normalcy and tall, gray‒eyed challenges could complete that.

She cannot help but smile evilly as a thought forms in her mind. Boy, you're gonna regret the day when you walked out on Johanna Mason, she chuckles.

Maybe she must have a few months without Gale first. It will give her the head start she needs.