Chapter Two: Mr. Mellark's Offer

"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - Christopher Robin

It's late afternoon by the time I finally reach the Mellarks'.

My hair and clothes are sticking to me in the summer heat; the temperature is in the high nineties by now, and the humidity isn't helping. I had to stop numerous times to recuperate and gain a little energy to continue. Every now and then, I'll take a small sip from the water bottle I have stored in an old fanny-pack around my waist. However, I don't drink much because I have to make it last.

The bucket of blackberries is making my arms sore, but I alternate between hands and keep going. I don't have the option of turning back now. I have to do this. I think of the alternative—of Prim having to go to school barefoot—and it gives me strength to keep going.

My mouth is parched, and I feel dizzy as I climb the stairs of their porch. The Mellarks have a really nice home. The lawn is always mowed and the bushes and trees are perfectly manicured. Their house is white, two-stories high, and has a basement and a wrap-around porch.

They're definitely not poor.

I'm always nervous to knock on their door because I never know who will open it. If it's the wife or the two older sons, they usually give me a hard time. The last time I was here, the wife started ranting about "throwing pearls at swine." I guess paying me for my hard work made me a pig? I don't know. I don't like her. I've always wondered how such a nice guy like Mr. Mellark ended up married to such a witch.

I gather my courage and knock, and only a moment later the door slowly opens. My heart leaps to my throat when I notice wavy blond hair, but relief washes over me once I realize it's only Peeta. He's harmless, I know that much, and he won't be mean to me.

He looks surprised to see me. His bright blue eyes widen as they study me before landing on the bucket. I know I'm a sweaty, horrible mess, and I can't help but feel awkward and self-conscious. I'm not here to impress anybody or make friends, I remind myself, I'm only here to sell berries.

"Yeah?"

"Is your dad home?" I fix my gaze intently on the floor, knowing he's judging me and his mind is insulting me, even if he's too kind to say anything out loud.

"No. He's still in town, but he'll be back in a little while." He shrugs and adds hesitantly, "I can get my mom if you want—"

"No!" I cut him off, my eyes flashing up to meet his. I shake my head, knowing that probably seemed really rude. "I mean… can I just wait for your dad? I don't think your mom likes me very much."

"My mom doesn't like anyone very much," he replies with a slight chuckle. "Don't feel bad about it. Anyway, she's upstairs resting right now. You can come in and wait for Dad if you want. I'm just doing some baking."

He steps aside and holds the door open for me.

"Thank you," I mumble, picking up the bucket and walking into the house.

It feels wonderful inside; they have air conditioning. It's the first time I've felt cool like this all summer long. I find myself wondering what it must be like to live in such luxury and not even think twice about it.

It must be nice.

I follow Peeta silently as he walks into the kitchen. The whole place smells like fresh bread and it makes my stomach growl. As I enter the dining area, I see numerous trays full of buns and cakes on the table and countertop. I'm instantly hit with how hungry I truly am as my stomach and head ache from the lack of energy. I'm dizzy and nauseated, and I almost want to wait outside again because it's such torture to be around all of this delicious food and not be able to have any of it.

He turns to me suddenly. "You thirsty?"

I shrug, keeping my face passive. I'm waiting for him to be mean or make a rude joke like one of his brothers or anyone at school would.

Peeta evidently takes my shrug as a yes, because he grabs a glass from the cabinet and opens the refrigerator. He takes out a pitcher of what looks like iced-tea and pours me some, then walks over and hands it to me. "If you don't like sweet tea, we have ice water, too."

I take the cool drink without hesitation. "This is fine. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replies with a small smile. He turns his back and walks over to the oven, and I take the opportunity to drink the contents of the glass in one gulp. I'm a little embarrassed when I'm done, however, because I see that he's already turned back and gazing at me in amusement. My face reddens and I avert my eyes.

"You are thirsty, huh?" He goes to the fridge again and takes the pitcher out, then sets it down on the table. "Here, have as much as you want. I can always make more."

I eye it a little suspiciously, then look at him the same way. What's the catch? I stand there, with the empty glass in my hand, wanting more, yet not moving a muscle.

"Seriously." He gestures towards the sugared drink. "Feel free, Katniss."

My heart skips a beat when I hear him say my name. I didn't know that he knew it; I've never heard him say it before. Then again, we've never really talked.

"You know my name?" I ask, and immediately feel a little silly for it. Of course he knows my name. We've had the same classes for years. I'm such an idiot.

"Yeah," he answers slowly. "It's very different. Not easy to forget."

"Yeah? Well, neither is Peeta," I retort defensively. I always thought it was a bit weird that a baker would name their kid after a type of bread. Who is he to judge my name? At least I'm named after a flower, and not cooked flour.

He laughs and shakes his head. "I meant it as a good thing."

"Oh." I feel like an even bigger idiot now.

I decide to trust him for the moment and walk over to the pitcher. I pour another glass and sip it a little more slowly than the first. I stand there, feeling awkward, as he studies me like I'm some bug under a magnifying glass. I guess he hasn't seen many poor girls before.

"You can sit down, you know. You don't have to stand the entire time you wait."

"Maybe I want to stand."

"Do whatever you want," Peeta tells me, holding his hands up. "But the chair would probably be a lot more comfortable. Just saying."

I hesitate for a moment, feeling my feet and leg muscles throb and ache from the long walk, before finally deciding to take his advice. I pull a chair out and sit down. It feels strange to be sitting in such a nice house, being treated like a guest. I don't really know how to react to it, so I keep my eyes fixed on the floor and remain silent.

"Feel free to eat anything you see in front of you," he suddenly says.

I look up at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to tell me he's only joking. "What?"

"They're all going to the bakery this evening. Chances are half of it'll end up in the trash at the end of the night anyway," he shrugs. "I'd rather someone eat it than have it go to waste."

He seems honest enough, but I don't understand why he's being so nice. I came to his house to sell his dad some berries, not beg him for food.

My stomach growls and I grab a cheese bun from a tray anyway. If he's going to offer me food, I'm not going to deny it. Truth be told, it's been ages since I've even tasted fresh bread. I pull it apart in halves and stuff some into my mouth – chasing it down with a sip of tea. I can't help but feel guilty that I'm sitting here, eating and drinking such delicious things, and Prim is stuck back at home starving.

"Do you like it?" he asks brightly.

I nod, my mouth too full to answer him with words.

"You can take some home to your sister," Peeta offers, "if you think she would like them too."

"You know I have a sister?" I ask in surprise, raising my eyes to his.

"Prim, right?" I nod slowly. I understand why he'd know my name and who I am, having classes with me and all, but he has no reason at all to know about Prim or even care. He doesn't ride the bus with us. His parents and brothers go into town every morning for the bakery and he rides with them. "I've seen her with you."

I want to ask more, but I don't. I don't want to seem too curious.

The oven buzzer goes off suddenly and he slowly walks over to it. He looks inside and shakes his head, seemingly disappointed.

"I burnt them a little," he explains.

He takes the pan out and pours them into a brown paper bag. I want to ask if I can keep them; I don't care if they are slightly singed on top. But I don't. I don't want to seem impolite and needy, especially after he's already been so generous.

He turns to me with his eyebrows raised. "You want these? I'm going to throw them away if you don't."

I nod my head quickly, thankful that he'd asked. He hands me the bag, looking particularly pleased with himself for having burned a batch of rolls.

Mr. Mellark finally comes in the front door a few moments later. He notices Peeta, the bread, and then me.

"Why, hello Miss Katniss. What can I do for you this fine evening?" he asks cheerfully.

"I brought fresh blackberries and I'm hoping you'll want to buy some," I blurt, my face burning.

His eyes land on the bucket of blackberries and he falls silent for a moment. It makes me uncomfortable and slightly impatient, having to wait for his answer. Finally he asks, "You picked all these today?"

"Yes sir."

"It's a scorcher out there! You walked here, too?" His voice is sympathetic.

I nod and repeat, "Yes sir."

He tilts his head slightly and scrunches his eyebrows together. From the corner of my eye I can see Peeta off to the side, watching us. It makes me feel self-conscious, like I'm a lowly beggar, and I wish he wouldn't see me like this.

"How about," he looks as if he's adding numbers in his head, "fifty dollars for the entire bucket?"

"Fifty!" My mouth drops open, but I close it quickly and shake my head to rid the shock. "I mean, yes. Sure. That would be wonderful."

My heart is beating fast from excitement. That's enough to buy Prim shoes, supplies, and then some! I knew coming here would be a good idea.

"It's a deal then!" He smiles and pulls out his wallet to retrieve a $50 bill. When he hands it to me, I instantly feel like the richest person in the world. "Just one more thing…."

I look up at him, my eyes narrowing in confusion.

"My oldest son is going off to college this fall, leaving me one person down at the bakery in the evenings. I need someone dependable. Someone hard working. You seem to fit the bill. Would you be interested in a part-time job, Miss Katniss? I'll compensate well."

My mouth opens, but I can't seem to find my voice. I don't know what to say. I didn't expect this... not at all. I'm assuming it would be after school and that would mean Prim would have to go home alone. I'm not sure how I feel about that. At the same time, it's a lot harder to make money off of the land in the winter and eat off of it, too. It's always a really rough time and a job would greatly improve everything.

"I'd love to, but my sister…." I trail off, not knowing how to finish.

"She's welcome to tag along with you," he offers kindly. I'm immediately relieved. The answer is obvious now, but one more thing weighs on my mind.

"I don't have transportation into town."

"We'll make sure you always have a ride. Right, Peeta?" Mr. Mellark asks, and Peeta nods quickly.

He looks just as surprised as I do at his father's offer, but he doesn't seem angry or embarrassed by it. Not yet, anyway. Wait until people at school find out. He'll probably hate me then.

"Sure then," I finally reply, "I'd be happy to work for you."