The Baker's Story
The first time he met her was when his sister was dying of the illness. He was eight years old, and when his terrified parents brought her to the apothecary, he followed, crying silently and trying to stay out of the way. In the apothecary, Mr. and Mrs. May worked hard on his sister while his parents stood fretfully by, holding her icy hand and stroking her hot, sweaty forehead.
All the while, Mr. and Mrs. May's daughter sat quietly in a corner, flipping calmly through a book. This was the thing that stood out to him about her - while his world was falling apart as his sister lay dying, she sat there so calmly with her book. He imagined she saw sights like this everyday.
His sister didn't make it, but Kaysa May, who he knew was in his year at school but whom he had never really noticed before, stayed in his mind forever.
Things were rough for a while after that. Mr. and Mrs. May were pricey - even if they hadn't been able to save her, they had used some of their most expensive medicines trying. His mother and father, numb with grief, closed down the bakery for several weeks, which didn't help. They were never as poor as anyone in the Seam, not by a long shot, but sometimes he wondered if they might get there some day. But no, his parents opened the bakery back up and payed back Mr. and Mrs. May, and he stopped wondering about it.
But he still thought about Kaysa May. He'd catch himself watching her at school, notice her whenever she came into the bakery with her parents, see her playing in the square with her friends. He assumed it was because of the strong association she held to that night when her parents couldn't save his sister.
And yet, it wasn't sadness he felt when he watched her. He noticed little things, like how she moved so gracefully, how her pale hair spread out behind her when she ran, how her laugh tinkled like the keys of a piano and her eyes smiled when she made a joke.
Through the years, he figured it out. It wasn't grief he felt when he watched her.
It was love.
When he was thirteen years old, he spoke to her for the first time. It was after the Reaping, at the celebration for the families in town and most of the families in the Seam - all except two. Not joy and excitement for the coming Games, as the Capitol would have it, but relief for the families whose children were safe. His parents had a stand set up in the square where they were selling cookies for half of their normal price, which was a real treat. He snuck one, and his father pretended not to notice.
He was about to take a bite when he noticed Kaysa standing in line quietly. Emboldened by the festivities, he walked up to her, seemingly calm.
"Hi," he said. She looked at him and smiled.
"Hello," she said pleasantly. He fidgeted for a moment, trying to think what to say. He hadn't actually had anything in mind to say. Finally, he snapped his cookie in half.
"Do you want it?" he asked, offering her half. She smiled hesitantly and took it, confused.
"Thank you," she said. She broke a bit off and put it in her mouth. He smiled, then turned and walked away.
And Kaysa watched as he disappeared into the crowd, wondering what had just happened.
He watched her more than ever after that. He became so finely tuned to her that he could recognize the sound of her footsteps, of her breath. He learned the names of her friends, two twins, Maysilee and Merilyn, and, much more frighteningly, of the other boys who watched her. She was pretty, and she was sweet, and she was wanted. Samir, Adem, and Kort, that he knew of. He saw the looks on their faces when she smiled in their direction, saw them trade seats with friends so they could watch her in the lunchroom. Knew that they saw him.
But he continued to not talk to her. The thing with the cookie felt like it had been a disaster, like she would never speak to him again because he'd made such a fool of himself.
His next encounter with her was, once again, after the Reaping, this time of the 50th Games, when he was sixteen. This time was not a happy occasion though.
One of Kaysa's two friends had been reaped in this awful, doubled Quarter Quell. She was the first tribute from town for a long time - the Seam kids with their multiple entries were more often sent. But the odds hadn't been in Maysilee's favor.
He hung around the entrance to the Justice Building afterwards, waiting for Kaysa to come out. He knew that she'd be in there, saying goodbye to Maysilee, but he also knew she'd give her some time alone with her family, with her twin sister.
When she wandered out alone, crying, he wasn't sure what he was even planning to do before he did it. He stepped in her path and she stopped and looked up at him.
Words would not console her. He looked into her eyes, and he saw that she understood now what she hadn't all those years ago when she'd flipped through that book while he watched his sister die. She understood that she was going to watch Maysilee die, helpless to save her, while everyone else sat calmly by, just as helpless as she was but caring even less.
This was everything he didn't say as he reached out his hand, but everything he was sure she understood as she took it.
Things were happy for a while, in a way. She never watched the Games with him - she always watched with Merilyn and the rest of the Donner family. She rarely spoke with him, though she came by the bakery everyday, and he let her sit quietly in the corner with a book even if she didn't buy anything. She would sit next to him in school, though she ate lunch at a table alone with Maysilee's twin. He followed the Games avidly, hoping though doubting that Maysilee would come home, for Kaysa's sake, even though he knew one of the male tributes better. Haymitch was also in their year at school, a Seam kid, and he was nice enough. Funny, anyway, and he'd spoken with him a few times. But even though he felt awful about it, he continued to hope that Maysilee would make it home.
He was watching at home, late at night, when Maysilee broke off her and Haymitch's alliance, and was still watching when, seconds later, she screamed and Haymitch came running, even though he owed her nothing. He could barely watch as she died, holding Haymitch's hand.
Kaysa came to his house early the next morning, crying. Without thinking, he took her in his arms and held her. He didn't worry about whether or not he was crossing a line, whether this was appropriate. All he worried about was her.
Kaysa slowly pieced herself back together, while also drifting away from Merilyn. She began to sit with him at lunch, she began to speak to him more, she started spending all her free time at the bakery or his house. Slowly, as the Games ended and Haymitch came home, she became happy again.
On his seventeenth birthday, his mother baked him a real cake, and he stood around the table with her, his father, and Kaysa as they sang to him. He blew out the candles and, without warning, Kaysa pulled him in for their first kiss. It was long, and it was beautiful, and it was perfect.
It was better than any gift he could have asked for.
Just a few months later, as he walked her home from school, carrying both their bags and holding her hand, they heard a sound. It was a song, someone singing. It was lovely, though not a song he recognized.
Kaysa stopped and looked around curiously.
"What's that?" she asked, tugging his arm in the direction the song was coming from.
He stopped to listen more closely. It was a boy - no, a man. Singing quietly - a soft tune. A lullaby, maybe?
"It's beautiful," she whispered, her eyes alight. "I wonder who it is."
The melody drew nearer, and suddenly the voice became visible, sitting in a tree.
He was long and dark and too skinny but also too handsome - a Seam kid, and one he recognized, too. Samir Everdeen, one of the boys he'd once thought to be in love with Kaysa. He'd lost track, now, though, as they were no longer threats to him. Kaysa was with him, would marry him.
He turned to watch Kaysa as she listened, transfixed, to Samir's song. Samir must have been at the very end of his song when he glanced down and noticed them standing there. Startled, he almost fell out of the tree.
"Sorry," Kaysa giggled as he adjusted himself into a more stable position. "We were just... that was beautiful."
Samir grunted awkwardly and ran a hand through his too-long black hair. "Um... thank you."
"No really," Kaysa insisted, "I swear, even birds stopped to listen."
He watched her face, watched how she came more alive with Samir than she'd ever been with him, watched how he'd disappeared in her eyes as soon as she heard Samir's voice, and he knew.
He knew she was a goner.
He watched her pull away from him. He watched her spending more and more time with Samir. He listened to her painful break up speech. He watched her kiss Samir excitedly, passionately, on their last day of school. He watched her, sadly, as she threw away everything to be with him, as she moved to the Seam and married him.
He continued to watch her, the one girl he'd ever loved, even as he married another. Elea was nice enough that he wanted to be good to her. He tried very hard not to let her know that it was Kaysa who he really loved.
Elea bore him his first child a few years later. A beautiful baby boy. And he and Elea loved their son. He forgot, even, of Kaysa, when he looked into his son's bright blue eyes.
The next year Elea became pregnant again, and nine months later, gave birth to another son. It was another small miracle.
Elea became pregnant again about a year later.
So did, for the first time, Kaysa Everdeen.
She came into the bakery one afternoon, which was a rarity. She was a woman from the Seam now - she couldn't afford bakery bread on her husband's coal miner salary.
The first thing he noticed was how happy she was. The second was how skinny. She may not have the black hair and gray eyes typical of the Seam, but the Seam had certainly done it's work on her.
He was working by himself today, as Elea was in the back with the boys.
"Hello, Kaysa," he said quietly. She smiled shyly.
"Hello," she acknowledged. She brightened. "One loaf of bread, please."
He nodded, then gestured towards the available loves sitting on the counter.
"You have a preference?" She thought for a moment.
"Whichever is least expensive," she said finally. He sighed sadly and started to wrap up the least fresh loaf.
"Haven't seen you in here in a while," he said idly. Kaysa nodded.
"No," she murmured. She brightened again and put her hand on her stomach. "But Samir and I are celebrating tonight," she said excitedly.
And he knew that they were expecting. And it pained him, but he smiled anyway.
He handed her the wrapped up loaf of bread, and shook his head when she reached into her pocket to pay him. He then wrapped up another loaf, the freshest available. He handed this to her, too, and smiled as she stared at him, befuddled.
"Congratulations," he told her, and as she left, he smiled, truly happy.
"What was that?" a sharp voice asked from behind him.
He turned around and Elea was watching him, holding one of the boys against her hip, holding the other's hand, as he could now walk.
"You know we can't afford to be giving away bread," she whispered. He stared.
"It was a gift," he murmured half heartedly. But he could see in her eyes as she figured it out. Everyone from their year in school knew that he and Kaysa had once been together. Elea now knew that he still wished that they were.
"You still love her," she whispered. "Did you ever even love me?"
He was ashamed that he was hurting such a sweet girl, a girl who maybe he could have loved, if it weren't for Kaysa.
Elea saw his answer all over his face, and tears began to spill from her eyes.
"Mommy cry? Mommy cry? Why Mommy cry?" The tiny voice of their oldest son asked, tugging on Elea's hand.
Harshly, she yanked her hand away.
"Shut up!" She shrieked. "Shut your mouth!"
And to his horror, before he could stop her, she slapped their precious son across the face before storming from the room.
Five and a half years later, slapping the children had become a natural thing to Elea, no more out of the ordinary than combing her hair or taking a drink of water.
It was his youngest son's first day of school. The little boy bounced down the sidewalk, yammering excitedly about how much fun learning was going to be, and how many friends he was going to make.
The boy tripped and fell for a third time, and finally the father sighed.
"Give me your hand, Peeta," he said exasperatedly, though he was smiling. Peeta took his hand and continued to skip toward the school.
In the yard, kids everywhere were playing and shrieking and tearfully saying goodbye to their parents.
One in particular caught his eye. Samir Everdeen, kneeling in front of his and Kaysa's little girl as she kissed his cheek goodbye. He watched as Samir put his hand on the dark haired girl's shoulder and said something very seriously, then laughed.
As Samir stood and walked away, he caught the baker's eye, then glanced down at Peeta. He nodded and smiled slightly.
Once Samir was out of sight, he bent down to get on eye level with his son.
"You see that little girl over there?" he said, pointing out Kaysa's daughter. He had never seen her before, but she was really quite cute. Her dark, Seam hair was in two braids and she wore a red plaid dress. She was just a bit too skinny, of course, just like her parents, but that couldn't exactly be helped in the Seam.
Peeta nodded, looking at the girl his father was pointing to.
"I used to want to marry her mother," he said. Peeta's jaw dropped open at the idea of his father ever having been with anyone other than his own mother. "But she ran off with a coal miner."
He watched his son digest this.
"But, Daddy, why did she want a coal miner if she could have had you?" Peeta asked curiously.
He glanced at the little girl, standing nervously by the door, watching the other kids playing.
He looked back to his youngest son and smiled sadly.
"Because when he sang, even the birds stopped to listen."
