Chapter Twelve: Confusion and Comfort

"Butterflies can't see their wings. They can't see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well."

-Unknown

I don't know what to think about Peeta's confession of having a crush on me for so long.

I really had no idea; wouldn't have had any idea. And why would I? He'd never given me any indication of his feelings before, and if he had, I was completely oblivious to them. Apparently, I'm pretty good at being oblivious. Prim and Gale even tried to tell me, although Gale was completely off in his assessment. How could I not have seen it before?

Maybe I just didn't want to see it…

Because now that the blindfold has been lifted, I can't go back. I can't ignore it and pretend that I don't know what I do now.

Peeta Mellark likes me.

Me, of all people.

I have no idea why. I'm truly nothing extraordinary. I am the exact opposite; I'm not even ordinary. I'm somewhere below that. I have nothing to offer and he has nothing to gain… and yet, he likes me. He wants to know me, wants to be my friend, and I have not one single clue as to why.

It makes absolutely no sense at all.

None.

He could literally have anyone else. There are so many other prettier girls who are much more worthy of his attention and affection; attention and affection that I fear I can't reciprocate. I don't know how and I'm too scared to try. I don't want to lose Peeta as a friend, and I don't want to wind up losing this job or screwing it up.

He could never understand my life or the way I have to live. We can never have anything more than a platonic relationship. I'm beyond flattered that he feels these… things for me, but I'm not sure what comes next or how I'm supposed to handle it all.

I definitely don't know how to even process the information that it was him who had been leaving me the mystery lunches when I was younger. It feels so unreal, so unbelievable, and yet… it makes sense now that I think of it. The food he left me was mostly from the bakery: the sugar cookies, cinnamon rolls, cheese buns, the bread for the sandwiches. I should have connected the dots sooner. But, at the time, I had so many horrible things going on, I had so many worries,I never really had a chance to dwell on it or question it further.

I can't help feeling like I owe him - and I do. I owe him a lot for basically saving me and Prim, and he doesn't realize how much. I am so grateful and overwhelmed, but I don't know how to show it or express it.

After lunch, Peeta and I make our way to class. I sit in my assigned seat, and he in his. He glances back at me every once in a while and smiles. I smile back, feeling nauseous and lightheaded. I know he says that he doesn't expect more of me than friendship, and I am thankful for that, but I still feel like it's somehow expected of me after all he's done for me.

During our last hour class, I intentionally arrive late again so I don't have to sit next to him. I avoid looking in his direction. I can't stop thinking about everything, and I wish more than anything that I could.

I catch a ride with him to pick Prim up. I can tell that he's feeling just as weird as I am. He seems really shy and nervous, more so than normal, and isn't saying anything at all. His face is red and he's avoiding looking at me. I think he regrets telling me how he feels, and I don't know what to say or what to do to make him feel better about that. All I can offer him is friendship, and I don't want to hurt his feelings or make him even more uncomfortable by saying that out loud. So I don't say anything.

Once we get to the bakery, his dad takes off in kind of a hurry. I quickly change into my work clothes and meet Peeta in the back, feeling butterflies swarming in my stomach. I just want things to be normal again, and I partly wish that he'd never told me anything. I was happy living in my little oblivious bubble.

"I guess I'll show you how to decorate today," he mumbles quietly, looking everywhere but at me. "We'll start with something simple."

He reaches for a pan with six vanilla cupcakes, though none of them have icing yet. He looks at me quickly and as soon as I meet his eyes, he looks away again as if I'd shot lasers with my pupils or something.

He retrieves a bowl and starts mixing things into it without speaking one word to me. I take it that he's preparing the icing, however. He grabs food coloring and adds it to the mix, and then I know my assumption is correct. The white icing turns

a soft sherbet orange color.

"It's my favorite color," he informs.

"Orange is your favorite color?"

He smiles, staring down into the bowl as he mixes. "It reminds me of sky when the sun is setting. I've always loved that part of the day, when everything is starting to calm and the sky is painted with so many beautiful colors. It's like a promise that no matter how bad the day has been, there's still hope that tomorrow can be better." He shrugs and shakes his head as if embarrassed for sharing too much. "There's just something really magical about a sunset."

I nod, but I don't say anything. Truth be told, I haven't really paid attention to a sunset in a very long time.

"Mine's green," I tell him to alleviate the silence.

"Green?" He looks up at me with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. It reminds me of the woods. I always feel safe there," I explain without thinking. My face heats up as I realize what I just said. "I mean, it's just nice… to be surrounded by nature, you know."

He nods.

Suddenly, he lifts his head as if listening intently to something in the distance. Adeep frown takes over his face and he shakes his head as if not wanting to believe what he's hearing.

"What?" I strain my ears, and I think I hear what he does: A soft click-clacking on tile, headed this way.

"Peeta!" I hear a shrill female voice call from the store-front.

"Hide. Now!" He tells me quickly, his eyes wide with warning. He opens a nearby closet full of mops, brooms, and other supplies. "I'll explain later. Just stay in here for now, okay?"

I do as he says without question, yet I don't have the slightest idea of what's going on. He leaves the door open a crack as he walks away to meet who ever called his name. However, he doesn't get very far at all.

I watch silently, holding my breath, as Mrs. Mellark walks hastily into the back room.

She seems to have an air of thinking she is too good to even be in the presence of other people, and the word "humble" is not in her vocabulary. She always keeps her blond hair in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her cold, emotionless blue eyes are outlined heavily with mascara, eyeshadow, and eyeliner. Rouge and powder cake her face and cheeks, and her thin lips are gobbed with lipstick that contrasts badly with her skin-tone; she makes it look even more absurd by outlining them with a dark pencil.

To me, she looks like a glamorous clown. She has all the indication of a woman who probably was a beauty in her youth, and can't, or won't, accept that she is well past her prime. She also always wears designer clothes and heels, and I find it kind of silly as we live in the middle of nowhere and no one around here really cares about that sort of thing at all.

"Peeta!" she snaps. "Are you deaf?"

"No," he answers. "I was busy. I was getting ready to—"

"I don't care." I watch as she peers disdainfully into the icing bowl on the table. "Ugh… you and that god-awful color. I swear, I'll never understand you. Have you seen your father?"

"He left a little while ago. Didn't say where he went, sorry."

She gives a frustrated sigh and glances around, her lips shriveled under her nose as if she's smelled something rotten. She taps her manicured nails on the counter. "I feel as if I'm gaining weight just standing here."

"Hmmm." Peeta shrugs, but doesn't look at her.

She's silent for a moment, and then I see her mouth twist into what I think is supposed to be a smile. It looks more menacing than anything though.

"So where is it?"

"Where's what?" Peeta asks, finally looking at her.

"It." She raises her eyebrows as if that explains everything. He just looks confused. She rolls her eyes and explains slowly, as if Peeta is too dumb to understand her, "The trash that your father insisted on bringing the business down with."

"She's not trash."

I cover my mouth to stop the surprised gasp from escaping me. They're talking about me.

I narrow my eyes and listen intently to their exchange, trying not to take Mrs. Mellark's insults personally.

"If it comes from a garbage can, it surely isn't a rose," she retorts flippantly.

"She's amazing and you shouldn't—" Peeta starts defensively, but his mother cuts him off before he can finish.

"I swear to God, Peeta, if you start dating that dirt mop and bring more shame to this family," she threatens coldly with a sneer gracing her thin, overly penciled lips. "I'll disown you. Then you can live as penniless as she does."

"I kind of thought you already had."

"Disappointment doesn't equal disowning" she states with a roll of her eyes. "Not yet, anyway. Why can't you just be more like your brothers? They want to make something of themselves. Like Appam, going off to college and—"

"And partying. That's all he wants to go for—"

"And Proja, with his talent at sports. He's sure to get a scholarship with it, winning all those awards and getting so much recognition. And then… there's you," she says "you" as if it's some disgusting word in her mouth. "You don't even try, Peeta. You'll be stuck in this bakery day-in and day-out like your moronic father all your life; going nowhere and getting fat and dumb, while feeling sorry for the dregs of society. A total waste. Both of you."

Peeta is silent for a minute or so. I can see from my hiding place that his face is red, but he doesn't seem surprised by what she's saying to him. Which leads me to believe that this isn't the first time that she's said these things or made him feel this way, or even that it's a rare occurrence. It breaks my heart to see him being talked to and treated like he's worthless. How can his own mother not see how truly wonderful he is? I don't get it at all.

And, yeah, he's not like his brothers at all; she's totally right about that. He's so much better than they are. They don't even compare to him in the slightest way. I only hope that he doesn't think or feel that he's in any way less than they are. Mrs. Mellark is completely wrong, and I hope he's aware of how much.

I hold my breath as he starts to speak again.

"Dad isn't fat and he seems to take care of you pretty well," Peeta defends with a shaky voice. "Also, Katniss is a way better person than you ever thought abou—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before his mother slaps him as hard as she can across the face. The sound of her hand against his flesh makes me jump. My hands are shaking, my heart is racing, and I feel angry tears coming to my eyes. It's like seeing Snow being violent with Prim. I just want to confront Peeta's mom and defend him, but I know it would do no good and would probably make things worse for him later.

"Don't you ever, ever compare me to that thing again. Do you hear me?" She glares at him, her hand pulled back in threat of another smack. She raises her eyebrows at him for an answer.

Peeta is silent again for a moment, his eyes downcast and sullen. Suddenly, he shakes his head and a look of determination comes to his face as he meets her eyes again.

"She's not a thing. She's beautiful. You, on the other hand—" He tries to defend me, and I want so badly to tell him there's no need for it.

"Do you really want to push me further?" she threatens, cutting him off.

"What more can you do?" Peeta retorts. "Take away my other leg?"

"I told you to never speak of that ever again! You were in the way, you're always in the way, and I will not have you lay the blame on me for that again!"

A tear runs down my cheek and my hand goes to my mouth to subdue any sound from escaping. I can't stand watching her treat him like this. She's cruel and horrible, and I find myself wondering what she did to him that made him lose his leg. Whatever it was, I know she's totally at fault and I hate her for it. I have no doubt in my mind that it wasn't a so-called "accident."

Mrs. Mellark finally steps back from him, straightens her clothes, and sticks her frigid nose in the air. She looks down at her hand with disgust and shakes it as if to bring feeling back into it. "Why do you make me do these things, Peeta? Now my hand hurts, all thanks to you."

She turns away and looks into a mirror, casually fixing any make-up that might have smeared in the bullying of her youngest son. "Anyways, I'm leaving now. If you see your fruit of a father, tell him I'm off to the resort for the rest of the week. Try not to screw things up too much when I'm gone. Oh, and Peeta?"

"What?" he asks in a hoarse, dejected voice.

"I meant every word I said, and don't you forget it."

I close my eyes, trying to calm myself down before I see Peeta again. I listen intently to the click-clacking of her heels as she leaves the bakery. Just as it is when Snow leaves, the air becomes instantly lighter and I feel like I can finally breathe.

Peeta's still standing there in the same place; his eyes narrowed and his face scrunched up with bitterness. And despite his stocky build and medium height, he looks as vulnerable as a little child to me.

I take in a deep breath and finally make my way out of the closet. He looks over at me quickly, his eyes going wide as if suddenly remembering I was there the whole time.

"Katniss, I am so sorry you had to witness that," he says softly. He glances away and runs his fingers through his hair.

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. I just want to comfort him and make him feel better in any way I can, the way I do with Prim after Snow is harsh with her. Without thinking or overanalyzing, I do what I feel is needed—I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. I can hear his heart beating rapidly beneath my ear and feel his entire body trembling.

A moment later I feel his arms around me as well. His hand rubs my back in small circles as he rests his cheek on the very top of my head.

And I find it odd—interestingly so—how it doesn't feel weird or uncomfortable at all. In general, I'm not usually one for hugs or touching, with Prim being the only exception. But right now, as I stand in Peeta's embrace, attempting to comfort him, I find that I don't mind it so much. In fact, it feels sort of… nice. I'm surprised, even more so, that I don't really want to let go. I don't want it to end. I have no idea what that means, and it's both exhilarating and scary to me.

When I finally do lean back and look up at his face, which is searching mine curiously and cautiously, I see that his cheek is reddening slightly where his mother had slapped him. It'll probably leave a light bruise and I feel disgusted at the thought. Peeta shouldn't have to wear a reminder of his mother's hate. I want it to vanish somehow, to alleviate the pain and embarrassment he must be feeling.

So, like I do with Prim whenever she has a bruise or a wound that I'd like to wish into healing quicker, I take his face into my hands and move it to the side as gently as I possibly can. He's questioning me with his eyes, but I don't answer. I don't know how. I don't even know what I'm thinking or doing, all I know is that I want him to feel better.

So I touch my lips to his cheek.

After a moment that seems like forever, yet at the same time very brief, we let go of each other rather awkwardly and I avoid his eyes. I cross my arms and step back a little bit.

"Are you all right?" I whisper.

"I am now," he replies.