Primrose Mellark

Chapter Thirteen

Look to the side for a pic of "Evan" who is played by Logan Lerman

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  I ended up waiting for two hours at the bakery until the rush finally ended. I was practically bored out of my mind by the time everyone left. I was fiddling with my fingers at a table near the window when I heard my papa's voice ring out.

   "Prim?" he called. "You're still here?" I looked up at him as he stepped out from behind the counter. I looked down at the table top again. I was hurt, in a way. This was just another time when nobody listened to me, so I was sort of used to it by now.

   "I guess." I muttered.

   "You guess? So, there's a change that you're not here?" papa teased me. I couldn't help but smile. He always made me laugh even when I was feeling not so great. That's what I love about him.

   I looked up at him. "Do you guys have any extra bread?"

   Papa looked up, surprised. "Yes, why?"

   I shrugged, pretending that it wasn't a big deal I've waited for two hours for these loaves. "Um, I wanted to take them back home."

   "Why is that, cupcake?" papa walked over and sat down at the table.

   "I just thought they shouldn't go to waste, is all." I shrugged again. I looked up at him and brushed hair out of my face. Papa had a funny look on his face, like he thought I lost my marbles.

   "Well.... I guess you can have them." he stammered. He sounded surprised and confused. I let out a laugh, which only made him more confused. It was just the sight of his face that made me laugh at him.

   "So there's a chance that I can't have them?" I asked. He looked at me funny, then realized that he said the exact same thing a moment ago. Now it was him who let out a laugh. His laugh was sweet yet thick, almost like a boys' laugh. I also loved that about him, too.

   "I see, cupcake. Of course you can have them. They're in the back, where we heat up the bread. Do you know where?" he asked me. When I nodded, he continued, "Alright. I'm going to pack up the rest of the bakery." Papa let out a sad sigh. I understood his sadness- this was the last him he was going to see his bakery that he owned. The next bakery, in the new town, wasn't going to be his.

   "Alright. I'll be quick." I promised. I scooted my chair back with a squeaky noise, and I walked to the counter. I lifted up the wood gate and I walked into the still-hot bakery kitchen. I looked around, then remembered where it was. I walked two isles down- the isles were tall metal racks where the bread used to be-and turned the corner. There was a large glass window with bread leftover.

   I walked along the glass and saw many, many different kinds of bread. But, unfortunately, there was only ten loaves of bread, all of them different. There was pita, french bread, banana bread, muffins, bagels, and a packet of little balls of bread that I had forgotten their names. 

   I reached to the side and got a large plastic bag. I put all the kinds of bread into the bag, including the balls of bread. It was full, and I made sure that they were lightly stacked on top of each other, the smaller bread items on the top. For bread, this bag was pretty heavy. 

 I struggled to carry the sack of bread to where papa was waiting. He had just finished stacking the rest of the chairs when I walked out. He greeted me and opened the door. I looked back at the beloved bakery, where I grew up and went nearly everyday. Then, with one motion, papa shut the door without looking back and locked it.

   Papa had escorted me home, to where mom and Rye were waiting. We walked inside the door, and I was met with a crying brother. I put the sack of bread on the counter and rushed over to Rye. I put my hand on his shoulder and crouched down to meet his gaze.