"What are you looking at?" Prim asks with a smile drawn in her eyes.
"Nothing," I say averting my eyes from the subject of my interest and answering a little bit too gruffly.
"Well, that nothing is a handsome blond."
"Prim!" I exclaim looking at her with genuine surprise.
"What? I'm 15 now, and not that naive anymore. He is handsome, not as handsome as his middle brother but…" she trails off.
If I didn't know any better I'd think she's trying to tease me to get a reaction from me. But my interest in Peeta Mellark has nothing to do with his good looks, which are undeniable, but with his good heart.
"Anyway," I say striking back, "I thought your type was tall with dark hair, like Rory Hawthorne?" now, it's her turn to blush to the roots of her hair and open and close her mouth as a fish searching for air. I feel a little ashamed at that moment but not too much since I got what I wanted, divert the topic from the boy with the bread.
"Let's go Little Duck, mom is waiting at home."
We start walking home, but I can't clear my mind from what I've just seen. Peeta seemed upset, even angry, and that is not his usual demeanor. He is nice and open and he smiles most of the time, except when he is focused in his sketches or in wrestling trainings or tournaments. No, something is definitely not fine with him at all, and I wonder if it had to do with the ball of paper he threw into the bin. Maybe I could…
I'm so immersed in my thoughts, that I don't realize the Hawthorne siblings (well, except for Gale who's working in the mines today, like every single day but Sundays) are ahead of us till I hear the youngest one asking me if I'm ok.
"Yes, why Posy?" I ask waving to Vick and Rory.
"Because you're scowling," she says.
Well, that is pretty normal in me, although maybe it is not that normal around Prim and them. I try to smile for her and she smiles back.
"Don't worry Posy, she's a little distracted today," my sister says, mock in her voice.
"Prim, why don't you walk home with the Hawthornes? I'm sure you'll appreciate Rory's company," I say as genuinely as I'm capable to pretend. She blushes again and nods as an answer while giving me an angry look, but this time I'm not ashamed at all.
I retrace my steps till the little square where I saw Peeta and I head to the bin, luckily there's few people in here and I can recover the paper from the bin.
I head to the meadow to look at it without any other eyes prying around me, it is nearly the end of spring and the meadow it's still full of dandelions. Yes, this is a good place to find out Peeta's problem, maybe this time I can repay him for saving my life and my family's life so many years ago, I think, determined to find a silver lining.
When I open the paper, all I see is the Capitol's Talent Contest. Every year, before the yearly Hunger Games, the Capitol launches a talent contest across the districts for 18-year-old boys and girls who are safe from the reaping for the first time. It is like their award for survivors. They choose one person from every district for each category: music, painting, poetry, acting, sculpture, writing… I've never given much importance to this: first, because my only focus has been to survive another year, and two because not in a million years could I leave my sister alone for that long.
The winners get a full education on their chosen career and, from that moment on, they are Capitolites. They can get back to their district once they finish their studies, but no one from district 12 has ever returned here. I guess it makes sense, when you can keep your education there and live an easy life. Because God knows life isn't easy in district 12, not even for Merchant families.
To be honest, I can't see how I can help him here. It is not like I could go to his front door and ask him what is wrong or if I can support him. It's true that I go to his parent's bakery every Sunday to trade some squirrels, but his father is the one trading with me and in all these 8 years since the bread incident I've never managed to speak a single word with Peeta, although sometimes our looks have crossed.
Maybe he can't participate because his mother doesn't let him, but he is already 18, he doesn't need his parents' authorization anymore…
I stand up from the grass feeling a little bit down, as this is not my opportunity to repay him. I'll have to wait. I have already waited 8 years, this is not a big deal, I say to myself, nevertheless I feel like I missed a good chance.
The rest of the week goes by the same as always, and I don't think about Peeta or his problem anymore. I have enough problems trying to make a living for my family. However, Sunday brings a total different story.
After hunting with Gale in our woods, we go trading in the Merchant quarter. First we visit Madge as we got a bucket of berries for his father, the Major. They're not strawberries, his favourite, but he likes these as well. Then we go the bakery but, before arriving there , we hear someone yelling.
"Mrs. Mellark is not in a good mood today," says Gale, "maybe we should go and trade squirrels someplace else."
He is right, I think, as we turn around and start walking down the street and turn around the corner that brings us to the main street, but what if…
I snatch the squirrels' bag from his hand and run in the opposite direction from where he is standing astonished.
"Wait for me here," I call out, "it is better if only one of us goes there, I need bread this week," I say as all explanation.
When I'm closer to the bakery I slow down my pace, I can start catching some words of the conversation: "wasting money", "not in a million years", "disrespectful son", "I won't allow it."
I'm by the door, at their small veranda, and I'm about to knock when it opens brusquely, nearly hitting me, but I do a good job avoiding it. What I can't avoid is something, or someone, crashing on me and almost knocking me down.
It's Peeta on his way out with a recent bruise on his cheek. When he recovers from the shock he looks surprised of finding someone there, but before he can open his mouth to say anything we hear his mother throwing something out of the kitchen. Peeta flies from the veranda without apologizing before she gets out. I should do the same but his mother starts talking with Peeta's father at that moment and I eavesdrop, moving behind the door so as to not be found out.
"It's his money Moira, and he's 18 now," his father says slowly, like he needs to think about the right choice of words.
"Are you serious Alfred? I won't let my son waste the family money in paintings. He's not an artist, he is barely a baker," she spits venom as she speaks.
"That is not fair. Peeta is the one who frosts and decorates the cakes…"
"Frosting is not art!" she yells again. "We need him here and Bannock and Rye, or this shitty bakery won't survive and our family will be ruined. Do you want that? Do you want that?"
Silence settles around the bakery, after a moment, Peeta's father breaks it "No," it is all he says.
I return to Gale thinking about everything that just happened.
"Where is the bread," he asks gesturing with one of his hands.
"You were right, It wasn't a good time," I reply throwing the game bag at him.
"Then, why are you smiling?" he questions narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"I don't know what you are talking about. Let's go," I say… but I do because now I know how to help Peeta look for the future he wants.