Chapter 15: Bakery Raising
My first semester as a teacher is one that I actively come to enjoy. Since these are little kids who are in my care, I feel much more qualified to teach them things like their numbers and reviewing their letters. There is a social studies curriculum that I teach, but it centers mostly on geography and not history or civics. At least not yet. Some of our recent history is still fresh and raw, and despite their youth, my students are far from innocent – their young eyes have born witness to far too much. All the same, the thought of teaching them history, particularly Hunger Games History, the way I learned it when I was in school, is too much for me to bear. Thankfully, the arenas and history of the Games won't be taught until kids reach Upper School, just as it was before the war. However, I resolve that if a student of mine comes to me and asks me about the Games, I will not shy away or lie, the way that my Games school course was propagandized. I will tell them an honest version of the truth, and how the Games were horrible and it is a very good thing they are now abolished.
It surprises me when I come to realize that I enjoy being around children. Maybe Peeta was right in that it's not all that different from the way I used to get when doting on Prim. Is it enough though to make me reconsider having my own in childbirth? Absolutely not! Still, I can't help at how Peeta knows me so well, even if his suggestion of a career change may have some wily alterior motives. I decide to let him have his victory while also sidestepping the question of if we'll ever have babies of our own someday.
Winter turns to spring, and when the school year is winding down to let out for the summer, I approach the principal and request that I stay on for the coming academic term. I am proud that my new boss, Cardella, is so pleased with my work and assures me that we will likely have even higher enrollment in my classes for next year.
Haymitch and Peeta are ecstatic, vindicated, that I have found something that gives me new purpose. Evenings are now spent comfortably curled up next to Peeta in the couch before the fire, compiling my students' report cards and preparing lesson plans.
One Friday afternoon, I am seated at Peeta's and my kitchen table, grading papers, when my partner comes in grinning unabashedly. He is clearly brimming with good news.
"Katty! You'll never believe it! I just got word from the Lieutenant Governor and Amp, the construction foreman – the bakery has been moved to the top of the queue! We're going to start rebuilding!"
Pulling me up from the table, he picks me up and spins me around, causing me to shriek in happy surprise as I throw my arms around him.
"Oh, darling, I'm so happy for you! It'll be the best season to rebuild it!"
"I know. If we stay on schedule, it'll be done by the time you go back to school!"
I smile softly, my hands resting lightly on his chest as I perch up on my tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. "So…. when do we start?"
"Well, we're going to reuse the foundation – that's half the battle right there. But next weekend… pack a basket of vitals, Katty girl, and put on your best dress – we're going to a barn raising!"
I throw back my head and laugh musically again, reaching up to tenderly kiss him again. "Or, bakery raising, I should think. Shall you escort me there, Mr. Mellark?"
He presses his lips back to mine in answer. "I should like to take no one else!"
The following Saturday, Peeta and I gather just off the Square with the rest of Everdeen to assist in the bakery raising. I am heartened that so many are on hand to help, and feel ready to burst with pride when Governor Petrie briefly calls Peeta up to introduce him to everyone – not entirely necessary (everyone knows who he is), but I appreciate it all the same.
"Thank you everybody for coming out here this fine morning! And Mr. Mellark is especially appreciative that you braved this heat to help him raise his bakery!"
Peeta smiles bashful, giving an awkward wave. "Thanks, folks!"
"And a special thank you to the ladies for all the lovely vitals they brought!" Applause. I don't bother to mention how Peeta prepared most of the pastries in the basket, and feel tickled that my lover insisted I take the credit. "We might not be like other couples, who think cooking is woman's work," Peeta had grinned at me with a wink. "But just because we're not like other couples doesn't mean I don't know how to share credit with the lady of the household." I had felt my cunt clinch, and nearly tackled him to have sex, and only the prospect of ruining my best dress made me refrain.
"Now," Petrie instructs. "Because a bakery has four sides, there's going to be four teams. The first team to get their side up wins the little bitch – Thomas, show them Clarabelle! Now here's a fine hunting hound dog – fresh from the Capitol!"
Thom lifts up in his arms an adorable hound. I hardly know anything about dogs, but she looks like the sheepdogs I've heard tell about, used in the fields of Dakonada (once District 9), and it gives me an idea as Peeta makes his way back to me.
"Haymitch, you could use her to herd your geese."
"Huh, that's not a bad idea. How 'bout it, Boy?" At Peeta's nod, Haymitch flags the Governor down. "Hey, Petrie – you can put the seven of us Victors down for one team. Sweetheart here's taken a liking to Clarabelle!" I'm grateful that all of our fellow Victors (with the exception of Annie, who is still on maternity duties with her little boy) agreed to come out to Everdeen and lend a hand. Johanna was even able to depart from the Governor's Mansion – that's what many of the old Justice Buildings are now being called - in Mason for a day. I was nervous to have here, since her and Peeta's disagreement over the 76th Games has led to an estrangement of sorts. But Johanna has been quiet thus far, cordial with my boyfriend and, besides, Ariadne Snow, last year's Victor, has been plenty enough distraction for the hot-blooded woman formerly from 7. Johanna detests Ariadne, the granddaughter of President Snow, for leaving the Capitol Arena alive.
Governor Petrie, however, looks pleased. "Hear that, boys? That was Haymitch Abernathy! First time he went to the Capitol, he said he always got what he set out to get, and danged if he didn't! He's a hard one to beat, I'm warning ya!"
"Don't worry," states a mustachioed Capitol ex-pat who looks like one of the villains in those classic old movies Peeta likes to watch.
"We'll handle him!" growls another from what looks to be Mustachio's team, shaking a hammer-filled fist in the direction of us Victors.
"I've got your third team right here, Bert!" calls a miner.
"And here's your fourth, Bert!" says the greengrocer.
"Now, that's fine. All of you, take your marks then! The sooner you raise the bakery, the sooner you get the vitals! Ready? Let's GO!"
The Governor fires off a pistol round, and we Victors begin to prop up our side first with our hands, and then with poles, to get them upright. Down low on the floor, Johanna is hammering a nail in as Haymitch – who has declared himself the leader of our team – barks out orders.
"Come on, Baria, getting that rigging ready…"
"OW!" Johanna suddenly yelps and leaps to her feet, nursing her hand that just had a hammer go down on it from a man on another team. Haymitch whirls around.
"What happened?"
But instead of launching into a fight, as Johanna is wont to do, the Governor of Mason instead concedes, "My fault, sorry. I guess I shouldn't have had my hand there."
I frown, handing a bucket of nails up to Beetee. Using his cybernetic legs, but with his wheelchair always within reach in case he needs to sit down, Beetee briefly scales a ladder to assist where others are lay the scaffolding to the roof.
"Beetee, how we doing up…"
"OW!"
Looking up as we were, Haymitch and I don't notice someone else's hammer slam onto Beetee's foot. Our fellow Victor hops down from the ladder, hissing in pain, all the worse because of his cybernetics, which apparently cause more sensitive nerve endings as they technology "talks" to his muscles.
"Now what happened?" Haymitch is glaring over at one of the men from the other teams, suspicious.
"… Stubbed my big toe," Beetee grumbles.
Haymitch leaves it, calling to Ariadne across the green. "Ari, get those sideboards…"
I don't even half time to cry out. Mr. Mustachioed is swinging a large section of lumber up from the pile and it seems to go unwieldy, clocking Ariadne right in the back of the head so that she goes down.
I'll only learn later what was said, as Ariadne actually moved to engage the guy in fisticuffs. Mustachioed had just taunted, "Hurt yourself, little Snowflake?"
Despite being well within her rights not to, Ariadne had still backed down.
By now, Haymitch is clearly thinking something's up and when he sees a hammer fall from the roof construction above and nearly clock my sweet Peeta in the eye, the drunk is already to climb up half the side of the building and clobber the bastard. He is halfway up before Enobaria gets a grip on his ankle.
"Hold it, hold it!"
"He didn't drop that hammer on Peeta – he threw it! I saw it!"
"But we don't want no fights!" Beetee insists.
"We promised Lover Boy and Katty!" Enobaria explains. This is news to me – maybe Peeta has some agreement with them, just in case he has a flashback. If he has to resist the urge to fight, maybe he has encouraged the other Victors to do the same as well.
"We're gonna keep it calm, so don't start anything!" Ariadne comes up, passing a bucket of nails to one of the other teams. "We're way behind now!"
"He's made you into a bunch of mama's boys…." Haymitch breathes, shooting a glare at Peeta, who looks flummoxed, as if to say, What did I do? I have to admire his restraint and instinct for peace – I was ready to take that asshole out myself. "They're out to murder you, and what do you do? Apologize for living? You're all a disgrace to the title of Victor! You're a bunch a lilly-galling, chicken-hearted, lickspittles!"
There is a CRACK and an entire section of lumber comes down on Enobaria and Ariadne, just missing me but causing my friends to crumple like puppets, momentarily dazed. Haymitch just scoffs.
"Serves you right! I hope they break your necks!"
A little while later, Johanna is up with me on the roof, driving in nails. Peeta and Haymitch suddenly pop their heads in while sharing a ladder below.
"Jo, get those sideboards – OHHHFFF!" Both the men grunt as a guy rather brazenly swings a section of lumber, catching both Haymitch and Peeta in the chest, right in front of us.
I would have thought with his flashbacks, Peeta might have been the first one to snap. So I am surprised when it is Jo who throws all caution to the wind, stepping forward with a snarl to defend her friends – one of whom, she isn't on speaking terms.
"What are you doing that for? They ain't done nothing!" And she lays the guy out with one punch.
As the bakery raising dissolves into chaos, I hear Haymitch down below laughing gaily, having gotten just a touch of the thrill of the old fight. Soon, all of us Victors are launching ourselves at our passive-aggressive attackers, and the community team effort backslides into a statewide brawl. Standing on his cybernetic legs, Beetee actually hefts his entire wheelchair over his head and throws it, sending three men sprawling and crashing through one sidewall, the wooden boards splintering.
We don't rumble to kill this time, of course. But we leave plenty injured – jammed into the legs of ladders, thrown from the roof scaffolding (it's a wonder no one breaks their necks). And good old fistfighting. I knee one guy in the groin when his hands land on my ass to try and hold me down.
After about ten minutes of this, Governor Petrie charges into the fray in a panic, trying to break it up.
"Victors, stop it! Please! Stop the fighting! Stop the – OOOOFFFF!" Bert is clocked in the face by an errant wild punch (it wasn't us!) and is sent tumbling out of the staging area, tripping into a patch of nearby grass where some chickens were grazing, scattering them in every direction.
Above the melee, just about as bad as any Cornucopia bloodbath, at least in terms of injuries, we don't hear the creaking and the swaying above us until it is too late.
All four sides of the bakery pancake outwards, coming down nearly right in the same place where they started, leaving us seven Victors back to back in a kind of posse ring, several men knocked out cold around us.
We all burst into laughter. When order is restored and the bakery is finally erected, no one does clearly win the hound dog Clarabelle outright, though Thom gives the little bitch to Haymitch quietly, apparently for giving the State of Everdeen "one helluva fight."
Mellark's Bakery reopens to much fanfare, and I am standing by Peeta's side, beaming with pride as any…. spouse might be, when he cuts the ribbon. When my teaching duties let off for the summer, I spend my evenings working in the kitchens to help. It gives me a good chance to learn about baking, and Peeta is happy to help me. When he first attempted to teach me how to bake, not long after coming home from our first arena, it was a disaster. It largely still is, and we make out more than we bake, getting into wrestling matches over the dough, but neither of us minds.
We're in a bit of a wrestling match now, Peeta overcome with lust as he tried to stand behind me while guiding my hands through kneading dough.
Bending me back over the counter, my musical laugh is cut off by Peeta's lips firmly on mine, and closing my eyes, I sink into his kiss. "Mmmm…. Hmmmm….."
I feel his mouth worship my face, as his fingers deftly undo the ties of my apron, then work to push my blue skirts up and over my hips.
"Peeta…." I whine.
Suddenly, his arm is pinned to my throat and he looms over me, eyes wild. A flashback – his first in weeks – has interrupted our passion. I had been thrilled by the chance to close up the bakery late tonight – a chance for Peeta and I to be alone. Now…
"I'm gonna kill you, you damn mutt! Where no one can hear you scream!"
"Peeta…. No…. please…" I whimper, now out of fear instead of arousal.
As my hijacked lover bears down on me, I don't think. Propping up on my elbows, I snake a hand around his neck and slam his lips down on mine, kissing him fiercely. Kissing Peeta has snapped him out of it before.
And though Peeta seems to relax into the kiss after briefly stiffening in my hold, his hands are nonetheless still violent as he pushes my skirts up over my hips. Yanks me up from where I had been lying prone on the table and slams me into the wall. His hands pinch the curved flesh of my rear until it hurts and I yelp into his mouth, raising my leg to his waist and rutting against him in an attempt to calm him. It doesn't.
Hoisting me up the wall of the bakery, all while I'm still covered in flour, Peeta yanks my soaked underwear down to my knees. I feel him take me with one powerful thrust, and I cry out, wrenching out of the kiss.
When I look into his eyes, I am chilled and confused when I find the black pools or orbs that replace his eyes of brilliant blue when he is under Snow's influence. And yet, he does not kill me. Bashing me into the wall, he begins to thrust into me. Grabbing for his face, I smash my lips back down onto his, and soon we have licked our way into each other's mouths, our tongues grappling for dominance, as Peeta slides me up and down the wall with each powerful ram of his hips.
"AHHHH! OHHHHH! UGHHHH! Yes, Peeta, yes! Harder…. Faster!" I breath. "HARDER! TAKE ME HARDER!"
And take me harder, he does. Peeta isn't making love to me, the way he usually does – my boyfriend is almost entirely a kind and caring man, a gentleman, in bed.
Except Peeta isn't making love to me. He's fucking me.
And to my immense shock, when it comes to shagging in this way, I like it. Panem have mercy, I like it!
"Mmmmmm….. Hmmmmm….." I rock against him, until our movements are wild and jerky. Peeta has an arm pinned to my throat as he fucks me. I am starting to lose breath, my vision is becoming grayer and spotty…
There is another slam, and against Peeta's plundering lips, I scream out my release. I squeal and scream and scream and squeal. His arm falls away from my windpipe in the nick of time as he tires inside me.
"MMMM-HMMMMM!" I flood out all around his member, my femininity now pollinated with flour. Peeta follows me over the edge with a roar and we collapse in a sweaty heap on the floor of the Bakery, holding each other.
We don't rise and dress ourselves until hours later, even after Peeta has come back to himself.