Chapter Three: A Ride From Peeta
Before you were, or any hearts to beat, weary and kind one lingered by His seat; He made the world to be a grassy road before her wandering feet.
-W.B. Yeats
"Great!" Mr. Mellark beams. "Will you be available to start work next Monday, after school?"
My gut tightens and I'm unsure how to answer.
I don't know how I'm going to tell Snow about this; there's no way of knowing how he'll react. Still, I can't turn this opportunity down just because I'm afraid he'll react badly. He always does anyway, at least this will be worth enduring it.
"Sure." I shrug and look at the floor, but I can still feel Peeta's eyes on me. I can only imagine what he thinks about all of this. I almost feel sorry for him; I know people will talk. I'm sure he does too; we live in a small town. I don't mind so much that they say bad things about me, I'm used to it by now, but I feel bad dragging someone else into it - especially someone as nice as Peeta.
I try not to think too much about it though. I need this job. Not for me, but for Prim. I can't worry about what others will say. "Do I need to bring anything with me?"
"Just yourself. We'll take care of everything else," Mr. Mellark assures me. I nod, not knowing what to say next. He turns to Peeta. "Would you care to give this young lady a lift back home when you head into town?"
My pulse quickens at his words. I don't want Peeta to see where I live. Besides, he's done enough this evening. I expect him to object, sigh heavily, or just say no, but all he says is, "Sure. Of course."
"You really don't have to—"
"It's on the way. It's no problem." He shrugs and looks at me a little strangely; his eyebrows are scrunched together, as if he's trying to figure something out. I find myself fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, avoiding his eyes again. I know he's nice outwardly, but I can't shake the feeling that he's thinking horrible things about me.
I also wonder if he's saying he'll give me a ride out of respect for his father. It's a short distance between our houses by car, but it's still long enough that someone might see me with him. Peeta is handsome and has no shortage of friends. Why would he willingly commit social suicide by being seen with me?
I watch as Mr. Mellark walks over to him, leans down by his ear, and whispers something. I try my hardest to hear, but I don't catch it. Peeta's face reddens and he avoids my gaze. I'm both curious and paranoid. I know Mr. Mellark wouldn't say anything bad, but I still know it's about me. I know he doesn't mean for it to be, but I find it a little rude.
Peeta shakes his head and I hear him give a quiet, mortified, "Dad…"
Mr. Mellark looks back at me with a knowing smile. I have no idea what's going on and I'm afraid to ask, so I fix my eyes on the floor as he leaves the room.
It's only me and Peeta again.
My stomach is in knots and I am not exactly sure why. It might be because of the sudden change in Peeta's demeanor. It's slight, but it's there. He's avoiding looking at me now. I guess I can understand that though; I'm not exactly a prize to look at. I watch as he runs his hands through his wavy blond hair and shrugs.
"Sorry about that," he mumbles as he begins putting plastic wrap over all of the trays of baked goods.
"About what?" I'm genuinely curious about what he's apologizing for. He didn't do anything wrong. Then again, I know what it's like; I apologize for things I don't do all the time.
"You didn't—?" He stops and looks at me quizzically, searching my face. I meet his gaze and he turns away again, distracting himself with the plastic wrap. "Nothing."
"Okay…."
Things feel awkward. Why is he suddenly acting so weird? Is it because his dad offered me a position at the bakery? Is
he too nice to say that he's mad or upset about it? It makes me a bit defensive, but I can understand why he'd feel that way too. Mr. Mellark didn't even ask him how he felt about giving me the job. Almost anyone else wouldn't even be this nice about it.
I won't ask him, though. I know that if Peeta said anything mean, it would make me feel horrible. Hearing something nasty come from such a kind person would be more heartbreaking than if ten cruel people said the same thing.
"Do you need any help?" I ask. I might as well make myself useful. So far, I've just been standing off to the side, watching him bustle about as if I'm not there.
He stops for a moment and looks at me. He bites his lip and looks fleetingly at all the covered trays. "Not really. I mean, they're all done now. Thanks, though."
I nod and cross my arms over my chest.
"Actually," he begins a bit timidly, "would you mind helping me load these into the car?"
"Sure!" I answer a little too enthusiastically. I instantly feel like an idiot. I clear my throat, and walk over to him as nonchalantly as I can. "I mean, no. I don't mind. It'll give me some practice. For the job."
Peeta lifts a pan of bread buns and places it in my arms. He looks at me with a small smile and shakes his head. "You won't be doing much loading or lifting. Probably just baking, decorating, and cashiering mostly."
I bite my lip and look away as he lifts a tray in each of his arms. "I, um, don't really know how to bake or decorate," I admit.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll teach you. It's not too hard; just takes a little practice." He says this as if he's excited about it. I really wish I knew how he really felt about everything. He's kind of hard to read. "The car's out front."
I nod and follow him outside until we reach a white car. It's not brand new, but it's still really nice. There are no dents or rust on the body, unlike most of the cars and trucks we've had over the years. He opens the trunk, and I lay the tray down inside.
Without a word, he goes to the passenger side and opens the door for me.
"I just have to get two more trays. You can go ahead and sit in the car if you'd like…?" I nod and quickly sit down. He closes the door, then smiles softly as he assures me, "I'll be right back."
I watch as he goes inside to retrieve the rest of the baked goods. When he disappears from sight, I look around his car. It's pretty clean; not super fancy, but a lot nicer than I'm used to. He has a case of CD's, but I don't look at them. I barely know him, and it seems like it'd be nosy and intrusive.
A few minutes later, I jump as I hear the trunk close.
I find myself holding my breath when Peeta comes around and opens his door. Once inside, he hands me the brown bag of burnt rolls that I had forgotten inside. "I'm guessing you still want these, right?"
I nod and place the bag in my lap. "Yes. Thank you."
"When you start at the bakery, you'll probably get tired of them after a while," he remarks, a smile spreading across his face. "Dad didn't tell you, but you'll be welcome to take home whatever we don't sell at the end of the day."
"Really?" I ask in surprise. He nods and starts the car. I doubt he really knows how much this means to me, but I feel like a huge burden has been lifted from my shoulders. Just knowing that Prim won't have to go hungry as long as I have this job makes me overjoyed. I have a sudden urge to hug him, but I don't. Instead, I lean closer up against the door, feeling embarrassed for even thinking it. "That's cool," I say in a quiet, casual tone.
He backs out of the driveway, and with his eyes still on the gravel road before him, he says, "Sorry about the car. It's as old as I am. It's mine though and it runs okay. So I guess it's better than nothing, right?"
"I think it's nice," I reassure him. It's not a lie. I don't know how to drive, but if I did and I had a car like this, I'd be proud of it. And so should he.
"Thanks." His smile widens, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the road. I can't tell if he's avoiding looking at me or if he just really likes to concentrate on his driving. "That's good to know. You'll probably be riding in it a lot…."
"Oh. I guess so."
I don't know what else to say. This whole day has been a little overwhelming. I didn't expect any of this, and I'm not sure how to take it all in. I place my hand in my pocket, feeling the $50 bill inside.
"You'll be working with me, by the way. I'll be training you. My brothers don't really hang around the bakery much, if you're worried about that. I know they can be jerks. Anyway, Appam is going to college and Proja has his sports training and games. When he does work, it's only on weekends with Dad." I can't help but notice a little bitterness in his voice. I'm guessing he's not very close to his brothers; I never really got that vibe anyway. He's so different from them, personality- wise. They all look quite a bit alike, though. I remember that Peeta used to play sports too, before he lost his leg. I never really knew the whole story behind that, just that it was an accident. It wouldn't be right to ask him either. Not now, anyway.
I see my driveway coming up. Before I can say anything, he's turning the blinker on. Panic rises in my chest. I don't want him to see where I live.
"Uh… you can let me out here!" I blurt.
"What?" he asks in confusion, but stops the car. "It's not that much farther, I can—"
"No. Please. Just let me out here?" I open the door before he can convince me otherwise. Not that he could. I will never be okay with anyone seeing what I have to live in. It'd be mortifying.
"Okay," he replies, frowning. I get out of the car and grab the brown paper bag. "Thanks for the ride," I tell him sincerely.
"Anytime," he replies. With a curt nod, I begin to walk away. I hear him call my name, however, so I turn back to him again. "You know I wouldn't judge you, right?"
I let out a long breath and look away. I shrug my shoulders. I know he's just being nice. Anyone would judge the way I live; even someone as kind as him. Sure, he wouldn't say it out loud, but I know what he'd be thinking, so I just reply with a quick, "See you Monday," before turning back around and continuing to walk.
I hear his car go in reverse behind me and relief washes over me. He's nice, but this is a world that he just wouldn't understand. I wouldn't expect him to. No one should have to understand this.
Once I know he's gone, I sit down on a tree trunk and open the bag of burnt bread buns. Except they aren't burnt anymore. My eyes narrow in confusion. Peeta must have switched them out with fresh ones. There's also a few cinnamon rolls mixed in.
After eating a cheese bun, I stand up and walk the rest of the way home. It's almost dark now, with the sun setting behind the trees. I see a familiar truck in the driveway. My face lights up in excitement. I haven't seen him for most of the summer since he's been working so much….
It's Gale.
