Chapter Seven: Bakery Smiles

"You haven't lost your smile at all, it's right under your nose. You just forgot it was there."

-Unknown

The bakery is only three blocks away from the elementary school, so we arrive there in no time at all. As we all get out of the car and head inside, Prim grabs my hand and practically glues herself to my side. She's avoiding looking at Peeta, or even being seen by him. I can't help but shake my head and grin about it all. She's acting so silly. Peeta wouldn't hurt her or make her feel bad about the way she feels. I guess I should probably remind myself of that, too.

Despite the worries I have about other people seeing us together, I guess I'm also a bit afraid of accepting his friendship… only to have him turn on me further down the line. If that were to happen, especially with someone as seemingly kind and sweet as Peeta, I would lose whatever desperate shred I have left of my hope for humanity. And the other reason I'm afraid of accepting his friendship is… well, I don't know how to be friends with someone like him. We're obviously from different social circles, completely different worlds; I don't understand how we'd have anything in common, let alone anything to talk about. I don't have the slightest idea why he'd find me interesting, and I'm not in any hurry to wear my heart on my sleeve.

As soon as we enter the bakery I'm hit with the intoxicating smell of freshly baked bread, pastries, and cakes. I can almost taste the air; I breathe in deeply, filling my nostrils and lungs with the delicious aroma. I glance down at Prim, who is still holding on tightly to my hand. She looks as overwhelmed as I am. As out of place as I feel here, I suddenly remember that this is where I work now; I work in a heaven of sugar and spice, of bread and pies.

The bakery itself is very nice: quaint and sort of old fashioned, yet it's kept up very well. The front room is filled to the brim with shelves and tables of breads, cupcakes, doughnuts, muffins, pies, and any other treat a baker's dream would include. There are glass cases and shelves along the walls, and along the window sills are elegantly decorated multi- tiered cakes in every color, shape, and size.

I feel so intimidated by it all; there's no way I'll be able to do all of this. I'm not a baker… I've never really baked anything in my life - nothing fancy like this, anyway. I'm thankful to work here, and even more honored that I was offered the job without even asking for it, but I have no idea what I'm doing here. Surely there are much more qualified and experienced people that could be hired for this?

"Miss Katniss, pleased to see you here today!" Mr. Mellark cheerfully states as he walks in. The dining room he came from is full of tables and booths;it even has two couches, a coffee table, and a lounging chair in the back. There's a shelf along the wall full of books and magazines. Music is playing, but I can't think to listen to it or bother to decipher what it is or who it's by.

Mr. Mellark's eyes land on Prim, who squeezes my hand tighter and clings a bit closer. "And you must be Prim? Pleased to meet you. Feel free to make this place your home away from home." He says the last part to both of us. There's something so warm and gentle about him that puts me at ease, and I instantly know I have nothing to worry about here. I'm sure I'll make mistakes starting out, but Mr. Mellark wouldn't have offered the job to a completely inexperienced person if he didn't expect that.

Or at least, I hope that's the case.

"Thank you. I'm glad to be here," I reply. My voice comes out as if I'm in awe, which I kind of am. I haven't been in this bakery for years, and I guess I'd forgotten how wonderful it was.

"Well, we're certainly glad to have you work with us! Consider yourself part of the family here. I guess I should go get your uniforms to get you started," he replies enthusiastically. "I'll be back in a moment. Peeta, you should show these lovely ladies around the place."

I watch as Mr. Mellark goes over to the counter where the cash register is located. Behind it, there's a door that leads to the back. I'm guessing that's where they do all the baking.

"Everything's pretty straight forward, really," I hear Peeta begin from beside me. I was so distracted by my surroundings and Mr. Mellark, I'd almost forgotten he was there. "As you can see, we're in the storefront here. This is where we keep all of the baked goods on display. We also get a lot of commissions for special occasions, so there are booklets behind the counter if a customer asks. We'll talk more about that later, but most of it you'll just learn as we go along. It's really not that hard, so don't feel overwhelmed."

I nod, but I don't say anything. Peeta smiles and waves his hand for me to follow him.

He shows me the dining room next, and by that time Mr. Mellark has found us again. His arms are full of folded clothes in turquoise and tan.

"There are five sets of uniforms here. You're welcome to take them home or leave them here. We have a washer and dryer here if you happen to need them, by the way. Feel free," he says, handing the clothes to me. It feels strange to have brand new clothes. I know they're just regular t-shirts and khaki slacks, and uniforms at that, but they are mine. Only mine. And no one has worn them before. I can't remember the last time I even had new clothes.

I feel so overwhelmed, all I can do is mumble a short, "Thanks…."

"Now, I guessed on your size. I hope I did alright. You should go try them on real quick before you get started. If they don't fit, I'll exchange them for you," Mr. Mellark says. "The public restroom is down the hall, or you can use the family one upstairs."

I nod and turn to Prim. "I'll be right back, okay?" I tell her. "You'll be fine for a moment, right?" She looks timidly at me, but nods. I then let go of her hand and make my way down the hall to the restroom. I lock the door behind me and glance in the full length mirror hanging on the back of the door. I notice my face is completely red. I sigh and look away as I start to undress and change into my new clothes.

I'm not sure about this. I'm not sure at all.

The shirt is a plain t-shirt, but it's small. I'm used to wearing baggy clothes… Snow doesn't allow me to wear form fitting ones. I try to stretch the shirt a bit, but it doesn't really make a difference. It still clings to my chest and stomach, accentuating my curves in the most embarrassing way. It makes me feel self-conscious and showy, and I don't like it. But what am I supposed to tell Mr. Mellark? I can't wear your shirts because they fit me too well?

I then try on the pants. They aren't tight, but they aren't loose either. They fit perfectly. The pants and shirt together make me feel like someone else entirely. I feel like one of the girls from school: one that is comfortable with her body and likes to show it off. I really don't know how I feel about mine, and as plain as the uniform is, it also shows off every little contour. I don't look bad or anything, I have to admit, but I don't want people seeing me like this. I'll be wearing an apron over it, I remind myself, and this makes me feel slightly better.

I walk out of the restroom and into the storefront, feeling slightly uncomfortable in my own skin.

"They fit perfectly! Fantastic," Mr. Mellark beams. "You look real nice, Miss Katniss." He has something white in his hands as he comes over to me. I feel my body freeze up as he places the fabric over my head and lets it drape from my shoulders. I look down at the apron I'm wearing. It has an oval on the front, with the brand of "Mellark Bakery" in decorative print in the middle of it. "Now it's official. Welcome aboard!"

I tie the two strings of the apron behind my back and smile. I can't help it. I haven't felt this happy, or this accepted, in a long time. It feels good here, and I never want to leave.

"Thanks," I say again.

I see Prim and Peeta off in the dining room. I can only imagine what's going on in her head at this moment. He's talking excitedly to her about something, and her little face is as red as a tomato. It feels like my face is making up for years of frowns today, because I can't seem to stop smiling. No matter how much I want to. It feels odd, but also very nice. I know it won't last long, that I' ll have to go home sometime... but it's good for now.

"Well, you should go to Peeta now. He'll teach you everything you need to know around here. He really has the knack for all of this, takes after his pa," Mr. Mellark tells me proudly. He places a hand on my shoulder and leans down closer to me as he catches my line of sight of Peeta and Prim talking. "He'll treat you right, that one."

He then looks at me as if to make a point. All I can do is nod. I've never once doubted that Peeta knew his job well, and I wouldn't expect Mr. Mellark to leave him to do a shift on his own otherwise.

Mr. Mellark informs Peeta that he's leaving, and with one last reminder to train me well, he finally leaves us on our own.

I feel nervous all of a sudden. I'm not sure what to do, say, or what to expect now. Prim stays in the dining area, in a booth, and reads a book. Peeta comes back into the storefront and gestures for me to follow him into the back.

There are multiple ovens, racks of flour and spices, trays and pans, a few counter-tops and tables. There are already some cakes, breads, and other things sitting out waiting to be decorated or to be put on display. I watch as Peeta picks up a small individual-sized cake that has already been decorated with white icing and pink flowers. He starts to write something on it with a huge knowing grin on his face.

"What are you doing?" I ask him curiously, coming over to his side. I notice the first letter is a cursive "P"… and I think I know what's going on here.

"Giving your little sister a cake as sweet as she is," Peeta answers with a small laugh. His cheeks are tinged pink, and I'm pretty sure he's caught on about Prim's little crush on him.

"You know, then?" I try to hold back a laugh, but a small snort escapes me. Peeta looks at me with a bashful smile and shrugs his shoulders as he nods.

"I have to admit, I'm a little flattered," he says as he finishes writing her name on the cake.

"I'm sorry, Peeta, but she's a little too young to be dating just yet. I hope you understand."

He looks over at me, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Well, that's rotten luck. I thought I'd snagged myself an Everdeen for a moment there."

I roll my eyes and look down at the cake, knowing he's just making a comment in jest, and doesn't really mean anything by it.

"You're going to break her little heart," I state with a dramatic, lighthearted sigh. "Giving her a cake and talking all sweetly to her. She's going to fall madly in love with you, and it's all I'll be hearing about for the next few weeks."

"I'm sorry, I just can't bring myself to dash her dreams," Peeta replies with a wink, then moves across the room to retrieve a plate. "I kind of know how she feels. Besides, maybe she can convince you that I'm not as bad as you think."

I look at him in confusion for a moment, and then guilt hits me as I realize what he means. I was totally rude to him today. I pretty much accused him of pretending to be nice to me. He doesn't have to pretend though, it's just his personality - he's just friendly and kind, and I'm a distrustful idiot who always expects the worst of people.

"I don't think you're bad," I mumble quietly. "I've just had bad experiences… with people…"

"You don't have to explain anything to me. I understand." He places a hand on my shoulder and gives a gentle, reassuring squeeze. I don't know how to reply, but the look on his face tells me that I don't really have to say anything at all.

His hand leaves my shoulder, and I begin to breathe again.

"So did Prim tell you about her crush or did you figure it out on your own?"

"She didn't really have to say anything. Sometimes actions speak louder than words," Peeta replies quietly. He suddenly glances over at me, looking hesitant - as if he wants to say something, but doesn't know how. It makes me nervous. He was talking to Prim earlier and it's hard to tell what she had told him. She could have said anything at all. My stomach ties itself in knots, wondering if she told him anything about home. Is that why he's looking at me so strangely?

"What?" I ask with sudden edge to my voice. "If you have something to say, then say it." He sighs heavily and l look away. I just knew something bad was going to come eventually. I hold my breath as he begins to speak again.

"I hope you don't think it's weird of me to say this..." He hesitates, as if debating whether or not he should complete his sentence. Finally, he lets out a long breath and continues, "But... seeing you smile so much is my new favorite thing."

I'm not sure what to think of this comment. Did I hear him right? Why would he say something like that? Then it dawns on me that it's likely a ruse to keep me smiling for customers. It's his subtle way of encouraging good business etiquette.

There wasn't anything more to his statement than that, and I'm not going to read any more into it. Still, my stomach feels as if it's filled with a million little butterflies flapping their wings. It's a strange sensation - one I've never really felt before. I look away from him, but a small smile still remains on my lips.

"Thanks. I wish I had more things to smile about," I reply.

"Well, hopefully we can change that." There's a slight shift of tone in his voice. I can't really place it. It seems wistful, perhaps even a little pitying. I don't know. I glance at him quickly and see that he's studying my face as if he's trying to figure something out. I can almost see the cogs turning in his head.

I shrug and reply with a simple, "Maybe. We're off to a good start."