CHAPTER 7
Peeta and I begin to spend more time working on our book in our free time; however, the time spent isn't particularly productive. We take plenty of breaks for kisses and for Peeta to wrap his arms around me in front of the fire as we talk about nothing.
Since hunting in the winter is scarce, the diner begins to rely instead on its stockpiled frozen meat and vegetables and I begin to spend more time in the kitchen with Peeta, Haymitch, and Greasy Sae. It's a bit overwhelming at first as I really have little to no talent when it comes to cooking, chopping, or washing dishes. Peeta takes it upon himself to teach me how to bake. We are in the kitchen kneading dough for sandwiches.
"This is boring and it hurts my back," I complain.
"Well then sing or talk while you do it," he says.
"I won't sing." We knead for a few minutes in silence. I have to say or do something else or I'll go crazy.
"So your name is Peeta." I say.
"So I'm told."
"I don't get it."
"What do you mean?" Peeta asks, surprised, I'm sure, that after years of knowing each other it's just now occurring to me.
"Katniss isn't a name to write home about but I'm named after a plant at least. What were your parents going for? Are you named after a pocket bread or is your actual name 'Peter' and your parents just wanted to make sure everyone would pronounce it with a Capitol accent?"
Peeta scrunches up his face in insulted confusion until he turns to see the laughter in my eyes. He smirks and flicks some flour off his fingers and into my face.
"Hey!" I laugh and toss a handful of flour toward him which leads to a small flour flicking match.
Haymitch walks in the kitchen in the middle of the mêlée and eyes us suspiciously.
"You two are awfully chummy lately," he says gruffly. We cease fire and silently return to our work.
The tension between Peeta and I on a daily basis must be palpable because Haymitch addresses us about our "chumminess" one day after a loud bout of laughter from the two of us.
"Katniss, get out of here."
"What?"
"Get out of my kitchen—"
"My kitchen," Greasy Sae overhears Haymitch and corrects him.
"What did I do now?" I roll my eyes, thinking I had once again burnt something.
"Stay out of the kitchen from now on. You're distracting Peeta with your teasing."
"Come on, Haymitch, it's fine. I know she's kidding," Peeta defends me.
Haymitch puts his hands on my shoulders and places his face centimeters from mine at the same level. I expected a heavy smell of bourbon but I realize that Haymitch hasn't been drinking during business hours anymore, instead reserving his binges for evening hours. He slowly repeats his sentence as if I myself were a little slow.
"You are distracting Peeta with your teasing and I'm sick of listening to it at work. Do it on your own time, sweetheart."
It takes me a moment to realize what Haymitch is actually saying and I feel the indignant fury begin to rise up in my throat. I look him straight in the eye.
"Are you calling me a…?" I trail off. Haymitch holds my gaze.
Furiously, I push Haymitch out of the way, throw my apron to the floor, and make a quick and dramatic exit toward the door. On the way out, I bump into someone.
"Sorry," I apologize, still in a blind rage. I look up at the bouncing blond curls and realize who it is: Delly Cartwright.
"Delly?"
"Katniss! Hi!" she says, embracing me.
"W-what are you doing here? I thought you were in the Capitol."
Due to her supporting role in Peeta's recovery, she had become familiar with Plutarch at least. It was difficult to ignore her bubbly beauty and not be affected by it. Plutarch, sensing a star, was of course captivated by this and offered her some roles in television shows that never made it into a second season if they even got past the pilot. She's one of those people that's annoyingly cheerful but you just can't help but to like her.
"Ah, you know. I'm in between work now so I thought I'd come back to District 12 and do the out-of-work-actress waitress gig," she said, tossing back her curls.
I shrink, all of a sudden feeling unfeminine and ugly in her presence. Stupid.
"Oh—here? At our diner?"
"Yeah!" she smiles her lipglossy smile. "I'm staying with my family." Her family was one of the few to escape District 12 before it was decimated.
"Thank goodness because I'm pretty sure Haymitch was just about to make me a waitress and, let's face it, I'd be a terrible waitress."
"No!" she says warmly. "People love you, Katniss. You're a national treasure for godssakes."
Unfortunately, it turns out that Haymitch's plan is to have not one waitress, but two: a beautiful, charming waitress and a taciturn and averse but celebrity waitress. My presence brings in more customers from across the districts while Delly's presence makes sure they will return despite my poor service. Haymitch, slimy as ever, charges people for photographs with me. We all work longer hours. It is terrible. I can't decide whether or not Haymitch is punishing me for my flirtation with Peeta who is technically now my work colleague. Regardless, Peeta and I no longer work on the book let alone say anything to each other aside from shouting out patrons' orders. We're too exhausted after work to do anything.
Finally, one morning in late spring, Haymitch calls us into the back office for an announcement.
"We've broken even!"
Peeta, Delly and I look at each other with confusion.
"You three don't know anything about business. It means we're no longer paying off the debt and costs of running this joint. We're finally turning a profit!" Delly jumps up and down in excitement with Haymitch. Peeta and I are largely indifferent to the matter until Haymitch declares the diner closed for the day tomorrow.
"What? Why? What will we tell people?"
"We'll tell them we're renovating or something. Make yourselves look like human beings again. Tonight, we celebrate!"
