In the second morning I wake up aboard the Titanic, relaxed by peaceful dreams I'm not used to have, I get up and crash my head against the top bunk.

Johanna, getting dressed next to me, bursts out laughing.

"I don't know why Mr. Hawthorne wants to marry you, Brainless. You have no grace whatsoever. You were born to marry a milkman or something of the sort."

"Brainless?" I ask with a frown.

"That's my pet name for you. You're lucky that I'm telling you this, it means I like you."

I scowl. This is not a good start for someone who will be working for me in the near future. She should defer to me and, if not, then at least I should be asserting power over her, yet I keep acting like an insecure teenager who can't stop bickering with her older sister. Not that it happens between Prim and I.

I decide that, since Johanna likes to provoke discomfort in people, the best way to make her forget the stupid nickname is to ignore it.

"Gale was a coal miner back in Twelve," I snap then. "The milkmen were socially above him, so I think he'll do well with me."

"He may have been a coal miner, but look at where he is now," she replies.

We join the Mellarks for breakfast not long after. I'm very nervous and feel particularly self-conscious since last night, given that I don't know what the youngest Mellark son may have told his family. Although he promised that he would keep my nightly excursions a secret, I don't know if I can trust him. I'm also concerned about the proper etiquette to adopt from now on. Do I speak to Peeta? Do we keep ignoring each other like before?

Fortunately, everyone acts like they did on the previous day. The only thing that differs from before is Peeta himself; he looks at me and gives me an acknowledging smile from the other side of the table. I do the same and that's the end of our interaction. He seems more relaxed and talkative overall, and by his family's reaction this seems to be his real self.

Johanna and Rye have apparently become very friendly with each other. It was to be expected, if I think about it, because they have absolutely no limits. It's a match made in heaven: they banter loudly and drive all the attention to themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark look at them, horrified, probably because Johanna has the manners of a sailor.

Nobody notices when I leave the table and go for a walk: my roommate is making too much noise for my excuses to be heard. So I go to the deck again, to the same exact place where I was with Peeta last night, and lean against the railing with my eyes closed, to feel the breezy wind caress my face as if I were in the woods.

"I think you may like this," a familiar voice tells me.

I turn around to see Peeta again. Uncovering a small package from inside his overcoat, he puts it in my hands.

"What is this?" I ask, confused.

"Cookies. They were made three days ago, so you should eat them fast before they dry out," he says, his ashy blond curls bouncing with the wind.

Prim used to love seeing their cookies, although I could never buy any for her. She always said that they were some of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. I open the package to find the round frosted cookies, perfectly decorated as primroses and dandelions.

"Primroses and dandelions?" I observe. "How interesting."

Peeta looks embarrassed.

"I made them for you."

"For me?"

He nods. I frown.

"You're giving them to me because I'm poor?" I ask.

He looks confused. "No, it's because they are delicious and may remind you of home."

It sounds odd to me. It's probably a trap.

"If you made them for me, what didn't you give them to me on the first day?" I ask.

"I don't know," he replies, "But I'm giving them now."

I look at the cookies again.

"Peeta, I can't pay for this. I didn't bring a huge amount of money with me."

"I don't want you to pay."

"I can't take them without paying," I say, giving the package back to him.

"You don't pay for gifts," he says, refusing the package, "Try them. I'll have them back if you don't like how they taste."

I'm still distrustful of his reasons to do this, but I don't know how else to refuse.

"Will you eat with me, then?" I ask.

"All right," he says. "I've had enough of them since my accident, but I think I can still eat half of a cookie."

We sit together on a bench. I break a dandelion in half and give him one of the pieces. When I put it in my mouth, there's a mixture of feelings. First, it is too delicious. Second, it reminds me of my father, when he would buy these cookies for me as a little girl. Of course they didn't have these beautiful drawings back then, but they taste the same. I can't repress a moan and I'm immediately mortified by it. When I open my eyes, though, Peeta is grinning like this is the most amazing moment ever.

"I'm sorry," I say, ashamed, "It reminded me of my childhood. You said you made them?"

"Yes, it's a family recipe," he says.

"Did you decorate them as well?"

"Of course. I used to make all the frosting and decorations at the bakery."

I'm astonished by the revelation.

"Those beautiful cakes… Was that you all this time?"

"Yes," he chuckles.

How amazing is it that the man I met last night, with all his hopelessness and self-hatred, can still make such delicate, exquisite cakes?

"I'm very impressed," I say, honestly, "My sister Primrose always loved to see them."

"Not you?"

"I never had time to think about it," I say.

Peeta nods.

"Will you bring your sister to America later? I didn't think the two of you could ever be separated," he asks softly.

I'm touched not only by Peeta's concern, but also by the revelation that somehow he noticed how close Prim and I always were. The idea hasn't even crossed Gale's mind and he was our neighbor and friend for years.

"I want to," my voice is a thin whisper. She's the reason why I'm going to get married in the first place.

An amused snort startles us both and announces Johanna's arrival. Her scornful expression accompanies it as she walks to join us. Peeta blushes at the sight of her.

"Brainless and Lover Boy together, I figured. Am I interrupting something?"

I don't like her tone of voice and the implications it seems to contain. I also dislike the way she refers to Peeta as Lover Boy. It's obvious it makes him very uncomfortable.

"You always interrupt something," I say. "What do you want now?"

"You're eating together like an old married couple."

I can feel my face getting warm. Johanna is constantly crossing the line; she can't keep humiliating me in front of Peeta Mellark and questioning my honor day after day like she has been doing. Gale's honor is compromised too, as a result of her words.

"Johanna!" I snap. "I'll have you fired when we arrive in New York."

Johanna laughs.

"I like your spirit," she says. "Won't you offer me one of those things that you are eating?"

Peeta, next to me, has a bewildered look on his face. His eyes dart between me and Johanna.

"No," I say. "These cookies are mine. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I get up and walk away, unwilling to take another glance at any of them.

I decide to request a bath so that I can get rid of everyone. Baths are gradually becoming my favorite thing in this ship. I try to take as long as possible before returning to my bedroom, and after that I spend the remainder of my morning there.

I miss Prim so much. I take her photograph out of my suitcase many times a day and kiss her face repeatedly. I hide Peeta's cookies next to the photo. I'm not able to eat any more of them, because Peeta Mellark's gesture was so sweet that it makes me want to save these cookies forever as memory, even if they rot. When I become a mother and a grandmother I will still remember the day when the boy with the bread gave them to me.

At lunch, probably to the horror of everyone but themselves, Johanna restarts her loud, happy banter with Rye. Graham Mellark, who always sits next to me but never talks, murmurs:

"Can you please tell me something interesting? I need to stop hearing their voices."

I snort in amusement.

"I'm sorry, I can't think," I say. "They are finishing my brain off."

"That makes two of us," he says in annoyance, retreating back into his usually silent self.

I don't want to let Graham go, not now that he has presented himself as my only escape to my roommate's loud voice, so I keep talking to him.

"Actually, I was wondering. Will it seem too rude if I cover my ears?"

It's his time to laugh. "I'll do it if you do."

I smile. "On the count of three."

Graham looks surprised at first, but then he chuckles. He nods and counts. "One… two…"

We burst out laughing before we try to do anything. All of a sudden, everyone is quiet at the table and looking at us.

"I'm happy that you're getting along," Mrs. Mellark says in a warm voice.

"Yes," Mrs. Mellark agrees with her forced kindness. "What are you talking about?"

"I forgot," I say stupidly.

"Stop trying to court Katniss," says Rye. "You're both engaged."

That's not funny, and I don't like the implication, but Graham's face registers pure anger.

After lunch, walking through the promenade, I find out why it upset him so much: Graham has been corresponding for one year with a girl who was born in Twelve, but whose parents emigrated to America when she was only ten years old.

"How did you get in touch with her?" I ask.

"She wanted to get married to someone born in her hometown, so she sent an ad to our newspaper," he explains. "I knew who she was because she used to be Peeta's playmate as a child, so I wrote to her to see if I liked her as a woman. And I did," he adds proudly. "You must have attended school with her. Her name is Delly Cartwright."

That name means nothing to me, so I shake my head.

"Are you travelling to get married?" I ask.

"I hope so. She has no idea that I'm going. I shall surprise her when I get into her parents' shop and she sees me there."

I don't know why, but the first thing I imagine is Gale showing up one day all of a sudden. It doesn't sound very pleasant.

At dinner, like he always does, Mr. Mellark requests red wine. Everyone drinks it along with the meal except for me but, once the time to pour the wine in Peeta's glass comes, he shakes his head and refuses it too.

"I'll drink water instead," he says.

"Why?" his father asks.

"I heard that drinking is a disgusting habit, and I agree," he says, echoing my words from last night. He's bantering with me and no one else knows it; I find it exciting and amusing. I almost chuckle, but I'm able to stop It in time. A while later, when everyone else is eating, he looks at me and grins.

When the excitement wears off, I feel disappointed again. I had expected him to speak with me during lunch, afternoon or dinner, but he didn't try to pursue a conversation with me again after the episode with Johanna. It's like he doesn't want people to see us together, so I don't have the courage to talk to him either.

Later, rolling in bed and unable to sleep, I wonder if Peeta is on the deck tonight. Our conversation last night may not have been entirely pleasant, but it was interesting nonetheless. Talking to him has been one of the few stimulating things to do here, a breath of fresh air in this tedious journey. A strong desire to do it again comes to me. I put on my overcoat and boots, not bothering to change from my nightgown, and rush to the deck.

There he is, at the exact same place where I found him yesterday, leaning against the railing, like I expected him to be. Tonight he wears an overcoat.

He grins sweetly when I lean next to him. "You always come at midnight," he says.

"Are we looking at the sea again?" I ask.

"No," says Peeta, turning to face me with bright eyes. "Tonight I came to see you."

I laugh at that. Some of the things he says are absurd, but I didn't expect this one.

"What for?"

"I liked your truths from last night," he replies.

I look at his face, trying to understand if he's being serious or sarcastic. I may have been a little too harsh with him about some of the things he said yesterday, but I don't think I could have toned it down.

"You didn't even know I was going to come," I say condescendingly.

Even I didn't think about it until I was in bed.

"But I hoped you would," he says.

I laugh. "You always find an excuse to be here."

He chuckles in amusement.

"What are you really doing here, Peeta?" I ask.

Peeta gives me a funny look that I can't quite decipher.

"I'll tell you if you tell me," he defies me.

"And how do I know I can trust you?" I ask teasingly.

"You'll have to put your faith on me. I promise I'm trustworthy."

He clearly hasn't told anyone about last night. There was also that incredibly sweet gesture with the cookies this morning. And he saved my life when we were children. I think I can trust the boy with the bread.

"I come here just to be alone," I admit at last. "I need to think."

He gives me a wincing smile. "Sorry for spoiling that."

I smile.

"And you?" I ask.

"I come to think too," he says, "About what I'm doing with my life."

"You didn't seem happy about it, last night," I state.

He smiles sadly.

"Not at all," he admits. "Being here with you made me realize that I have been doing everything wrong."

His eyes are locked with mine, but I don't know what to say, so I look at the back of my hands instead.

"Every one of you has a life plan and I don't even know what I'm going to do when we disembark," he continues.

"You'll follow your family to their destiny."

"What if I don't want to follow them?"

I don't understand where this is coming from. It's exactly the opposite of what he told me last night. He could have stayed in Panem, running his family's bakery, but he elected to join them in this voyage.

"You said you came because you didn't want to be far from them," I say.

He snorts. "I don't think I used those exacts words."

"What will you do if you don't follow your family?" I ask, perplexed.

"I have my economies. I could work somewhere else and have my own life."

"But you can't be alone," I reply. "You need them to take care of you."

I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. After everything I criticized yesterday about his perception of life with a disability, I say this. I was probably the first person to treat Peeta like a regular man since the accident, and now I've taken it away from him.

Peeta sighs dejectedly and supports his forearms on the railing. "And by that you mean I'm incapable because of my disability," he says in a dull tone. It's so non condoning that it breaks my heart more than if he had shouted at me.

I could deny it, but that's exactly what I meant.

"I'm ashamed of myself," I say softly.

His eyes look incredibly sad. "Believe it or not, Katniss, I'm very capable."

"I'm sorry, Peeta."

Actually, by telling Peeta that he needs someone to take care of him, I'm projecting my thoughts about my own life: unable to find a way to feed my family and remain single. I'm crippled by my poverty, much more than he was crippled by that accident. He can be free in peace, while at the same time the strings of hunger threaten my mother and sister and prevent me from doing the same.

Peeta passes his hands through his curls, from the forehead to the nape of his neck, and then fidgets.

"Never mind," he says. "What do you come here to think about, can I ask?"

I don't want to tell him everything, so I settle for a half-truth.

"My sister."

He smiles. "What about her?"

"How much I wanted to be with her in Panem."

"I understand. But you're going to be with Gale soon," he says, trying to comfort me.

I nod.

"That will be good. At least Prim won't need to leave school."

"Why would she?"

"To work for food, like I did."

Peeta frowns.

"Are you going to marry Gale Hawthorne because you want more food for your sister?"

"The way you phrase it makes it seem that hunger is nothing," I snap.

He ignores my words and lowers himself down so that our eyes are at the same level.

"Is that why you're getting married?"

"That's not the only reason," I reply, avoiding his eyes.

He studies my face.

"Let me ask you something: if your family had enough food to eat, would you be marrying Gale?"

"I don't know," I admit.

"Katniss –"

"Drop it."

Peeta seems horrified. I must stop him before I cry.

"I thought you had feelings for him. That's not fair -"

"I'm warning you, Peeta, don't interfere. We're not even friends, you and me."

He looks wounded.

"I thought we were."

"We are getting acquainted now; a friendship is something much bigger than that."

"All right," he sighs.

We both lean against the railing again. I can't look at him anymore; his reaction has made me feel humiliated. I didn't know the situation was as bad as his reaction made it seem. A prostitute, that's what he thinks I am now. What if he tells the others? I'm angry for allowing myself to be driven into sharing something like this. I don't know how he got me to say it aloud when I never even told Prim the main reason why I'm getting married.

"I should have been quiet," he murmurs. "I won't interfere, I promise."

"Good. It seems that tonight I can only put my foot in my mouth," I say.

He smiles faintly before looking at me with a serious expression.

"Katniss… When you said that I need someone to take care of me… I hope you know that I can fend for myself and for the people I care about. I'm still a man like any other."

"I know."

I can't say anything else. I want to leave; my body is ready to flee. Maybe he realizes how uncomfortable I am, so he changes the subject.

"When did you have to leave school?" he asks softly.

"Right after you did."

It was when we were sixteen. Peeta never returned to school after his freak accident; he rarely left the bakery after that. I had to drop school less than a couple of months later, even though I was one of the best students in the class and there were great expectations that I would become a teacher in the future.

"I wonder why we never talked at school," he says.

"Because it was pointless," I say, "And you didn't know I existed."

"That's the biggest lie," he exclaims with an amused laugh, "You were the one who didn't notice me."

"Of course I did. How could I not?"

His eyes open widely, like a child would do.

"You noticed me?" he asks.

I feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"I will never forget the face of the boy who saved my life."

Peeta frowns. "What do you mean?"

I realize he doesn't remember me from when we were children. What a foolish girl he must have thought I was at the time, all dirty and soaked from the rain, looking for food in this trash bin and lying to die on his backyard.

"The bread," I say.

He gasps and blushes heavily.

"Do you still remember that?" he asks.

So he remembers it. I think it's even worse that he does. He has known it all along: while we were at school, while he smiled at me from the other side of the table, during these nights under the stars. And now he knows I'm still scraping for food, using my own body and my beloved friend Gale to achieve that.

I nod, mortified. "And I never even thanked you."

He covers his eyes in embarrassment.

"Don't. It was the least I could do. I've been so ashamed for throwing the bread to the ground that I hoped you had forgotten about it. I'm sorry, Katniss."

His concern makes me smile. "My plan B was to die in your backyard, so I would have gladly taken it from the trash bin or the pig sty. I'm just sorry you were beaten for that."

"It was worth it. I only wish we had talked at school after that day."

I chuckle.

"That would have never happened. You always had people around you," I state.

"And?"

"That's horrible. Nothing remotely funny ever happened at school. How do you trust a person who is always laughing and relates to everyone?"

Upon hearing this, Peeta laughs heartily.

"Do you have a problem with people who laugh?" he asks.

I shrug.

"They are scary," I say.

Peeta can't stop laughing. I stare at the dark of the horizon and scowl until it's over.

"Who would have said," he states tenderly. "The huntress of Twelve isn't afraid of the wildest animals, yet she gets scared by laughter."

It's not that odd. Wild animals are easy to predict, they are reliable. People, at best, can be cunning most of the time. But I won't explain anything, because I don't want him to think I'm a fool.

"Am I scaring you now?" he asks.

"Of course. You're the most dangerous creature I know," I say teasingly, although there's a shred of truth in it.

He clearly expected me to say no because, for once, he's speechless and doesn't seem to know what to say for some time.

"I should have talked to you," he says finally. "Maybe then we would have married and you'd never go to America."

It's my turn to laugh. This boy is a flirt just like Rye. Not like him, he's much more refined and persistent than his brother. This is not a proper conversation to have.

"Your mother would have chased you away with a stick long before that day came," I say, trying to deflect the course of the conversation.

He shakes his head with a funny grimace. "I just pictured it in my mind. It doesn't look good."

I shake my head. No, it doesn't.

"My mother has no business in my life," he says. "I couldn't care less about her opinions. She can be a snob sometimes."

"Just sometimes," I smirk.

He smiles. "Well, she admires you. She always says you're a survivor like her."

"She thinks I am like her?" I can't stop myself from laughing. "Oh my God."

"You're not like her at all," he says softly.

"Maybe I am," I say with false bravado. "If you had come to offer your fine self to me in marriage, as you say, I would have been the one to chase you away with a bow and arrow."

He gives me a funny look.

"That bad?"

"Not at all. I'm just replying to your nonsense," I say.

He doesn't say anything for a while, so I gaze at the stars and my mind wanders to Gale. I wonder if we'll be talking under the stars next week, if it will feel as peaceful in the balcony of our house as it feels on this ship, whether I will fall in love with him as a consequence of it.

I wake up from the daze when I see Peeta's lips move.

"What?" I ask.

"I was saying you have a beautiful bracelet. Did Gale give it to you?"

I look at my wrist. Being loose for my size, the bracelet is almost hanging around my hand.

"No," I say. "It was my father. This is the most precious possession I have. In times of doubt, it always reminds me of who I am and what my father would say."

"What would he say about all this?"

It isn't that easy. If my father was alive I would be at home right now, sleeping with Prim. However, Peeta's question has me picturing how sadly my father would weep, thinking about his girl offering herself to a rich man in exchange of food for her family. Fooling that man into thinking she reciprocated his love. My father would never let this happen. Tears well up in my eyes and I try to make sure they don't fall.

"He might be sad to know I'm getting married, but he would also say that I'm doing what it takes to keep his women alive and healthy," I lie.

I don't know why I overshared so much and I desperately want to fix it. This boy has a real talent to make people open up to him, but I should have known better.

Peeta sighs. "It seems that I've learned some important things about you tonight," he says.

"I hope I won't regret trusting you with them."

"You won't. I'm thankful that you're here. Our conversations have been doing a great deal of good to me," he says. "You're making me reconsider my views about some things."

"Such as?"

"Alcohol," he chuckles.

I smirk, remembering how shocked and unique I felt when he used my words to tease me in secret.

"I liked it when you refused the drink today", I say.

"Did you?" He asks.

I nod. "Yes, the surprise of it. I had to stop myself from laughing in front of the others."

"Me too, after seeing your reaction," he chuckles with a sweet look in his eyes.

"It will be good for you in the long run. My father always said that drinking is bad for our health."

"Does that mean you won't allow me to drink alcohol ever again?" he asks.

"You don't need my permission to do anything."

"Of course I do," he replies.

"I won't allow it, then," I say with a smirk.

Peeta grins as if I have just told him the most wonderful news.

"What else are you reconsidering?" I ask.

"My future," he says.

"Your future?"

"Yes," he says, "I decided that I won't give up. I may not be a complete man, but I'm still here after all. I still want to be a baker, get married, have children. Do you think it's unreasonable for me to expect that?"

His eyes search for mine, full of fear and uncertainty.

I consider it. Peeta is kind, intelligent and he has revealed himself to be an unexpected flirt. He has the leg to turn his odds against him, but otherwise he's very good looking and young enough to attract someone. I've seen him walking and, being an amputee, it's remarkable that he only needs a crutch and moves so well with it. So yes, he can still work.

"Not at all," I say, honestly.

He shows me the dazzling grin again.

"Good, because I've decided that I won't let myself go down without a fight."