Chapter 1: Little Sisters are the Worst

"Well, would you look at that?"

I glance up, blinking, from where I am skinning our dinner of beaver venison at the head of the table. "What? What's going on?"

At the end directly opposite from me, my baby sister Prim (though she's really not a baby anymore) is spreading out newsprint over our kitchen table, blue eyes glinting with intrigue. "There's an advertisement here. Peeta Mellark is seeking a governess."

"The Baker?" I lift an eyebrow with surprise, and I can't help but let my mouth fall open along with it. Prim lifts her head and catches me gawping. I could swear I detect a quirk on her lips, but I can't be sure, as she pushes the spread of the district local paper in my direction. I try to beg off by rolling my eyes.

"Primrose: why do you read that dribble?"

"To be an informed district citizen," she quips flatly.

"By gobbling up the Capitol's propaganda?" I shoot back, though I manage to keep this sotte voce; you never know who might be listening.

"There's still useful information. Such as the fact that Peeta Mellark is out hiring a governess for his young daughter."

I roll my eyes. "You really don't have to chew on every little subject…"

"Just like you don't have to go about changing the subject every time you get flustered."

"F-flustered?!" I splutter, feeling heat come into my cheeks. "Why would I be flustered?"

"You tell me."

I nicker out a huffy breath through my nose. "Well, if I got flustered about anything, it would be about how anyone in Twelve could possibly use the word governess in a sentence. It's such a…. Capitolite term," I shudder.

"Come now, Katty, it only means he's searching for a nanny…"

"I know what governess means, Prim! I wasn't the top of my grade in English for absolutely no reason…!"

"Well, well, well," Primrose jousts back, a sparkle in her eyes, as she nudges the newsprint down the length of the table before rising and sashaying towards the sink to wash our tea mugs. "Mother will be pleased to learn she raised such a cultured district lady…."

I stiffen. "Mother isn't here," I mumble.

"I'll tell her of your pinings in my next letter," Prim wiggles a little with her back to me. She's clearly enjoying this.

With another huff, I actually bother to zoom in on the advertisement Primrose speaks of. WANTED: a reliable young woman to serve as GOVERNESS to a young girl, aged 10. Inquiries to PEETA MELLARK. I think I drank my tea too fast, for my brain now seems a bit fuzzy. I think back on the old classmate who I never spoke to at all, though in the years since we graduated school, I've traded squirrel with him at his back loading dock often enough. His father, the original Baker, had a guilty pleasure for them before he retired, following the death of his wife. And also after Peeta got…

I swallow through a bobble in my throat. "Why… why wouldn't he have advertised for a governess before now?" I ponder it half to myself. Prim hears me anyway.

"I suspect he was giving the little one time to grow. And himself time to…" she doesn't finish, even as I watch her carefully. My sister plunks back down into her chair, tucking back her skirts like a…. cultured district lady. I feel my own smirk playing at my lips.

It's gone in the next second when Prim fixes me with a very serious stare. "I think you should go and apply, Katty."

I gape at her, certain she's gone off her rocker. "What?!"

Prim shrugs around a helpless grimace. "Between you, me and Rory… we need the money."

I leap out my chair, indignant. "And you think that since I clearly don't provide enough for this family, this is another way to earn my keep?!"

"I'm not saying anything of the sort!" And Prim sounds genuinely affronted. "Although, I've had some attrition in patients this season and with the cut in Rory's wages down in the mines… times are hard."

I fold my arms under the bodice of my old blue Reaping dress, cross. "So why all but put me forward as a recommendation, if not so we can have extra income?"

"Well, for starters, it would also give you something else to do besides traipse in the woods, and your game isn't entirely on the level anyway, now is it?" Prim is making that stupid, sheepish expression again, like she really is sorry for this blatant manipulation. Ha! If only she were….

"My game is still the finest the district gets, never mind how I get it! By comparison, I don't know the first thing about minding a little girl…"

"Yes, you do. You had me," Prim's smile has a tinge of sadness to it.

Damn her. I grin softly too, even as I mutter, "You were pretty low maintenance. So that isn't to say the… the Baker's daughter wouldn't be…"

Prim leans over the tabletop, now almost imploring. "Please, Katniss. I…. it would mean a lot to me if… if you did." I shift a little unsteadily as I recognize the look in her eyes: pain. Regret.

I sigh. The State help me if I haven't ever been able to resist Prim's wiles. And because it's her… "Do I at least get a trial period?"

Prim brightens like a Yuletide tree. "Yes. So long as it is of a decent length, I leave that up to you."

My teeth set. "Fine," I grind out. "I'll speak to the Baker in the morning. I'll be out that way with those squirrels keeping in the icebox anyway…"

"OK, Katty, but you might make the sale at the front door this time." I almost growl at her mirth. Gods all damn her…..!

The front door to our little abode bangs open and my brother-in-law bustles in. "Primmy, have you seen my chisel?"

"On the mantelpiece, darling," Prim directs her husband of nearly seven years.

"What are you working on, anyway?" I ask him. "It's your day off!"

"The front porch is listing; thought I'd sand down this new plank I got off the carpenter to right it!" Rory tousles his head up towards me, grinning tiredly. Suddenly, he's yanked to the right as hands seize his collar and my sister pulls him down for a deep kiss. She laughs at his very pleased expression.

"That'll wake you up!"

I shift from foot to foot nervously as I stand on the front stoop of the Town Bakery, for once. Since I began trading with the Baker's father as a teenager, I've never made my sales from the front of the shop. The late Witch… the new Bak – Peeta's mother, hated anyone Seam. It's why I've always made my trades off the loading dock in the back, and even after the Witch died, it remained as habit.

It's early, so the Bakery should still be closed before the morning rush. I'm glancing down at my feet when I hear the tinkling of the bell and I glance up too quickly to take in the sight of tousled blonde hair.

I've never been anxious to attempt anything romantic with a man, and yet I've always had to grudgingly admire how Peeta Mellark is an incredibly handsome one. It doesn't help that he once showed me a kindness and I never repaid him for it: a loaf of bread, tossed into a blinding rain when we were children. Not much older than his daughter, now that I come to think of it.

And though I will continue to blame Prim for why I am here in the first place, with one of Mother's old shawls wrapped about my head for good measure, I realize that perhaps this choice position might allow me to finally settle that debt.

These are about all the thoughts I can manage, as what I am really struck by now are the Baker's eyes… cerulean. Eyes as blue as a summer sky…

"Katniss…" he breathes. A soft, easy smile graces his face, and I can't help but think of the sunrise. "You don't usually make your sale out in the front…"

I blush, embarrassed at how he would notice, much less voice, the change. "I, um…" I stall by holding out the usual batch of squirrels to him. "Here. For… for your table."

Peeta grins as he makes a show of inspecting them. He's always done this, ever since we were students, and when his father got wind of it, he picked up the habit too. "Right in the eye, every time!"

I flush pink at the praise. I never thought he would notice a little detail like that. The bust of my bodice feels too tight from a sudden strain there. And my legs… not only are they knocking, but I feel an ache in them too….

Peeta locks eyes with me again unexpectedly, and we stand there frozen for a moment, blue on grey. "The usual loaf?"

I swallow. "Raisins and nuts," I say softly.

He nods and dutifully ducks back inside to get it. When he returns and passes it into my arms, I haven't the heart to scold him that it's clearly fresh from the ovens. That's never been a part of our deal, ever since he took over the family business and we grew into adulthood.

"So…" and he sticks his hands in the pockets of his apron. "How are Prim and Rory? You're still living with them, yes?"

I blush again, glancing askance and down. "I pay rent," I murmur. "And in game. Even though they always say they don't need coin…" These days, however, with the slowage in business, I'm pretty sure my sister and brother-in-law are very glad for the extra coin.

Peeta grins wistfully. "I remember their Toasting. Never been to a finer one."

"That's right." I still sound unnaturally small, but the compliment makes me skirt back into my memory. It had been a glorious day; Prim had been resplendent and buzzing in Mother's wedding dress – our one family heirloom that she made off with when she, the daughter of the Merchant apothecary, eloped with my father, a coal miner from the Seam. The garment now hangs in Prim and Rory's closet, where it is likely to stay.

"… and my goodness, they already have a baby boy, now, is that right?"

I nod, smiling shyly, secretly pleased that he cares enough to remember. Though I see no reason why he shouldn't; as I understand it, he and Prim are friends. She passes this way, when she's out with my…

"My nephew, Aspen. He's eighteen months." My tongue darts out over my lips nervously.

"He'd have been born right around my daughter's birthday before last; she's 10 and a half…"

I suck in a breath. Here we go… I don't particularly want to do it, but if I don't, Prim will know, or soon find out. "How is she? Your… your daughter. Primmy mentioned to me she's in need of a governess."

Peeta blinks. "Yes. Yes, she is…" A strange, pleasantly surprised happiness breaks over his face. "Why do you ask?"

"I…." My blue Reaping skirts are getting hopelessly creased with how my hands are kneading the fabric, and I force the words out. "I was hoping to apply."

Peeta smirks, though there is a deeper awareness to his irises as I stare deep into them…. "You mean Prim encouraged you to apply."

A giggle actually bubbles up from me. "Sounds about right." Snow's Roses, what in Panem's name is wrong with me? I've never gotten this flustered, or giggled (!) ever. With anyone else not named Prim.

Or… on occasion…. Peeta….

I nervously meet Peeta's gaze to find he is… beaming. "I'd be delighted to have you, Katniss!"

I blink, bewildered. "Wait. So…. I'm hired? But won't you need references…?"

Peeta smirks. "Prim blossomed into a lovely young woman. I'd say those are references enough."

I duck my head, almost beaming at the compliment.

"Could you start tomorrow? I'd first need someone to pick Enola up from school."

I splutter like a fish for a moment. "Yeah…. Yes! That would be… fine…"

Peeta looks almost…. elated. "Perfect. I'll see you tomorrow… Miss Everdeen. Or is it now…. Governess Everdeen?"

My entire face now feels like it's on fire, even as I'm strangely smiling. "Careful now: Madge will think I outrank her."

"What Mayor Undersee doesn't know won't hurt her!" Peeta tosses over his shoulder as the door closes, the windowpanes rattling a little in the tinkling bell's wake.