第10章

  why not? no one decent will buy burned bread!”
  he began to tear off chunks from the burned parts and toss
  them into the trough, and the front bakery bell rung and the
  mother disappeared to help a customer.
  the boy never even glanced my way, but i was watching
  him. because of the bread, because of the red weal that stood
  out on his cheekbone. what had she hit him with?
  my parents never hit us. i couldn’t even imagine it. the boy
  took one look back to the bakery as if checking that the coast
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  was clear, then, his attention back on the pig, he threw a loaf
  of bread in my direction. the second quickly followed, and he
  sloshed back to the bakery, closing the kitchen door tightly
  behind him.
  i stared at the loaves in disbelief. they were fine, perfect
  really, except for the burned areas. did he mean for me to
  have them? he must have. because there they were at my feet.
  before anyone could witness what had happened i shoved the
  loaves up under my shirt, wrapped the hunting jacket tightly
  about me, and walked swiftly away. the heat of the bread
  burned into my skin, but i clutched it tighter, clinging to life.
  by the time i reached home, the loaves had cooled some-
  what, but the insides were still warm. when i dropped them
  on the table, prim’s hands reached to tear off a chunk, but i
  made her sit, forced my mother to join us at the table, and
  poured warm tea. i scraped off the black stuff and sliced the
  bread. we ate an entire loaf, slice by slice. it was good hearty
  bread, filled with raisins and nuts.
  i put my clothes to dry at the fire, crawled into bed, and fell
  into a dreamless sleep. it didn’t occur to me until the next
  morning that the boy might have burned the bread on pur-
  pose. might have dropped the loaves into the flames, knowing
  it meant being punished, and then delivered them to me. but i
  dismissed this. it must have been an accident. why would he
  have done it? he didn’t even know me. still, just throwing me
  the bread was an enormous kindness that would have surely
  resulted in a beating if discovered. 1 couldn’t explain his ac-
  tions.
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  we ate slices of bread for breakfast and headed to school. it
  was as if spring had come overnight. warm sweet air. fluffy
  clouds. at school, i passed the boy in the hall, his cheek had
  swelled up and his eye had blackened. he was with his friends
  and didn’t acknowledge me in any way. but as i collected prim
  and started for home that afternoon, i found him staring at me
  from across the school yard. our eyes met for only a second,
  then he turned his head away. i dropped my gaze, embar-
  rassed, and that’s when i saw it. the first dandelion of the
  year. a bell went off in my head. i thought of the hours spent
  in the woods with my father and i knew how we were going to
  survive.
  to this day, i can never shake the connection between this
  boy, peeta mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the
  dandelion that reminded me that i was not doomed. and more
  than once, i have turned in the school hallway and caught his
  eyes trained on me, only to quickly flit away. i feel like i owe
  him something, and i hate owing people. maybe if i had
  thanked him at some point, i’d be feeling less conflicted now. i
  thought about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never
  seemed to present itself. and now it never will. because we’re
  going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. exactly
  how am i supposed to work in a thank-you in there?