Fight for Me

Chapter 4:

"I live close by. We can walk." Peeta comes up just as I'm shoving my books into my locker and grabbing my backpack. 

"Sounds good." I say softly, trying to come off as excited yet not overly eager. 

Neither one of us says much until we make it down the street to the town square. "Have you seen the square yet?" He asks in an attempt to break the silence. 

"We drove through it when we first got here, but I wasn't really paying attention." I shrug.

"Well then," He says. "I guess you'll have to get the official tour from a knowledgeable inhabitant like myself." His voice is triumphant and full of pride.

"Lead the way, Mr. know-it-all." I joke and he grins. 

The town square isn't the most glamorous place, but it has a bit of a rustic charm to it. "Most of the buildings are made out of wood. This side of the country never sees much brick architecture because bricks are only produced in District 2." Peeta rambles off. I stifle a laugh. Part of me wants to tell him that the District 12 town square and the District 11 town square look pretty much the same, but I'll let him play the expert historian for now. "All of the shops are passed down through family, so the townspeople are really close-knit."

"That must be nice." I say.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I guess it could be worse." He points across the street and directs my attention to a storefront with a rough exterior. "That place sells hunting gear. You should check it out sometime."

"Maybe I will." I lie. In reality, all the hunting stuff I own was homemade or secondhand. We've never been able to afford anything shiny and new from the stores. I guess when I told them I hunt a lot they assumed it was for fun. Even though it can be enjoyable at times, it's much more out of necessity. Poaching is illegal, but starvation is lethal. 

"And this," Peeta stops dead in front a set of beautifully painted french doors. They're a soft, minty, green and provide a strong contrast to the chestnut colored siding. "Is my family's bakery." The words 'Mellark's Bakery' are printed on a small sign above a striped awning. There is a window above the bakery that I can only assume is where Peeta and his family live. 

"It's beautiful." I say. Peeta pushes the door open and a tiny little bell rings. 

"We're closed today." A deep voice calls from behind the counter. A tall, muscular man turns around and sighs. "Oh, it's you." 

"Max, this is Katniss." Peeta nods his head toward me. "Katniss, this is my brother Max."

I wave hello. "The one that kept beating you at wrestling?" I ask cunningly. 

Max laughs and holds up his arm to flex his bicep. "Every time."

Peeta frowns and gives Max a look. "We have a project to work on. You can't be in here making noise." 

Max fakes a surprised look. "Mom asked me to sweep. Give me five minutes to finish up and then I'll get out of your hair."

"Fine." Peeta groans. He gestures for me to sit down at one of the tables. "I gotta go grab my computer from my room. I'll be right back."

"Okay." I mutter and he rushes to the door at the back of the shop marked 'employees only'. I'm guessing that door leads upstairs to where they live. 

I fold my arms over my chest and look around at the bakery's interior. It's set up nicely, but you can tell that this building has been here for a long time. I wonder how many generations of Mellarks have lived and worked here. It must be comforting to surround yourself with all that history of your lineage.