As we emerged from the woods that morning, Gale asked me to take his portion of the haul to trade at the Hob, claiming his mom needed him home. Alone at the market, game bag full of squirrels, shoulders laden with pheasants we collected from our snares, I make trades for items on our mothers' lists — clean muslin for bandages, a small haunch of pork, shoelaces, a whet stone, and some other odds and ends.
In line for Greasy Sae's concoction of the day, I look past the open warehouse door to see Gale bound past, towing a blonde girl with pigtails behind him. I lean around the shoulder of the person in line ahead of me to follow their path. Was that Madge Undersee? Gale stops in a shadowed alley between the bakery and the tailor, looks around — it was definitely Madge — presses Madge against the wall, and leans in to kiss her. They mold into each other, and one of Gale's hands presses against Madge into him while his other gently tugs on a pigtail. Mouth agape, I watch Madge pull back and notice how in-sight of the Hob they are and pull Gale around the corner and behind the tailor's building, out of sight. It was safe to say that Gale had not been called home by his mother.
"Any squirrels for me today, girl?" Greasy Sae's raspy voice pulls me from my spying.
"Huh?" I snap to and feel color rising in my face
"Any squirrels in that game bag of yours?" She repeats her question, looking pointedly at shoulder. I am so distracted that I dumbly open my game bag to see if I have any squirrels inside. I trade Greasy Sae four squirrels for a bowl of stew and two rolls of bandages, still too preoccupied with the intimate encounter I had just witnessed to haggle.
I eat my stew mechanically, return Sae's bowl, and begin to wander out of the Hob. Why hadn't Gale told me where he was really going? I would not have minded…we had traded off Hob trips plenty of times before, and he knew I wouldn't tell anyone. Who would I tell? Prim? As I exit, I steal around the far side of the bakery and peek to see if Gale and Madge are still there. Nothing. I lean against the back porch railing of the bakery to think. When had that started? Madge and I were friendly enough, and Gale and I had traded plenty with her father. The mayor loved strawberries in the early summer and often gave us extremely generous trades for the sweet, wild berries. Besides those habitual encounters, I had never seen Gale and Madge interact. I reflect on the way Gale and Madge seemed to melt into each other, how his hands pressed her into him so firmly but so tenderly at the same time. I find myself wondering what happened next, both embarrassed and made curious by the little scene.
"Hi there," a voice startles me from my thoughts.
Jumping from my post, I look up to find the baker's youngest son, Peeta, looking down at me from the top step of the porch. He tilts his head curiously, waiting for me to answer.
"Oh, uh…" I stammer. Peeta points at my game bag.
"If you're here to trade with my dad, he's not around," he informs me, looking sorry. He waits patiently for a response.
As I come up to speed, I take Peeta in. Although we have been in class together since kindergarten, I have never taken much notice of him. He's taller than I remember, having gone through a healthy growth spurt courtesy of a merchant-class diet. His sandy blonde hair is pushed back from his forehead with a dark green bandana. Peeta brushes his face with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of flour across his left cheek bone, beneath a cerulean eye. He's holding a trash pail in his other hand.
"Peeta!" A voice shouts from inside the bakery. He cranes his neck towards the voice.
"Gimme a second," he says to me and ducks back into the bakery.
I am not sure what I am waiting for, but I remain at the bottom of the porch stairs, hopeful for even a small trade. The baker's wife does not approve of her husband trading with me and Gale, but I know she has incorporated the wild chives and blueberries into small batches of baked goods before. I have passed the bakery display window before only to see small meat pies decorated with pretty pink chive flowers that I had picked in the meadow the day before. Though my bag is full of previous trades, I only have three squirrels left. I had planned to take them home to my mother and Prim, but maybe I can get a loaf of bakery bread. My mouth waters at the idea of a thick slice of warm white bread and a glass of cool goat's milk.
Peeta reappears with a brown paper bakery bag and his trash pail. As he descends, he deposits the pail on a stair, and gently takes my arm to steer me around the corner into the alley where I'd seen Gale and Madge earlier. I am too surprised by his touch to pull back. He releases my arm as we step out of sight.
"My dad would be sad if he heard he missed the weekly squirrel delivery," he chuckles, "do you still have any?"
"Only three — is that alright? Enough for a loaf maybe?" I open my game bag to show him.
Peeta steps closer to peer inside, and I breath him in as he looks at the three squirrels. He smells like boy — all sweaty and musky — but also like the delicious smells that curl temptingly from the bakery when you walk by. I find myself leaning in to get more of the smell, then leaning away as I wonder what I smell like...hopefully not squirrels.
"Oh sure. Whatever you have is great," Peeta says. He motions to the Hob and says, "Looks like you had a successful day in there."
"Well, it's a little more than usual, because Gale ditched me today. So I've got his trades too," I explain and hand him the three squirrels on a line of twine. Peeta smirks and I wonder if he saw them as they stole around behind the bakery.
"Gotcha," he says, "well, I'm glad you stopped by."
"Sure — gotta get Mr. Mellark his squirrels."
We smile at each other, and I feel comfortable nervous here in the cool shade with him. A cool breeze blows, and there's that delicious bakery smell again, from him, from the bakery, I'm not sure. I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and gesture to the bakery bag in his arm.
"Is one of those for me?"
"Oh, no. It's all for you," he says and quickly adds, "and Gale."
The bag looks big enough to hold at least two loaves of bread, which is far too much for the three squirrels, not that I'd protest. I take note that while Peeta might be a whiz in the math classroom, his bartering skills leave something to be desired. I can't help thinking how similar but starkly different this encounter is from the time he had thrown the bread my way that day in the rain. I wonder if he remembers, if he knows how important that bread was.
"PEETA!" an angry-sounding voice yells from the bakery.
"Coming!" He calls back. Peeta presses the bag into my arms, fingers grazing my forearm as he pulls away. "See you, Katniss."
He disappears around the corner and I hear the screen door slam. I peek back around the corner and see that he's forgotten the trash pail on the stairs. I make to head home but pause and reconsider. I grab the pail and empty it into one of the larger bins behind the bakery before making my way back down the alley.