Revisions started October 2022.
Top ranking #10 in Hunger Games
Peeta Mellark has loved Katniss Everdeen from the first moment he heard her sing. In his innocence he watched her, hoping to gain enough courage to finally talk to her. One fateful day...
"Sure. Cousins. It is possible." Edrig smirked, pushing Peeta towards their classroom.
His shoulders drooped as he followed Edrig into the classroom. He knew he was right. He didn't stand a chance against the guy every girl wanted.
He waited for Katniss to enter the room. She had to walk by him to get to her seat at the front of the class. When she finally arrived, it seemed like forever, she was smiling. It confirmed his worst suspicions. They weren't cousins.
He laid his head on the table in front of him, listening to the shuffle of chairs scrapping the linoleum floor, and the soft murmur of conversation. He refused to raise his head until Mr. Candor started his announcements.
"Students, since this is the first year you are required to participate in the Reaping, the Capital requests that you watch a short video." Mr. Candor pressed a button on the wall. A small screen slid down from the ceiling, and shortly after a video began to play.
The video was different from the one shown at the beginning of the Reaping. An announcer, Caesar Flickerman, appeared on the screen. He looked directly at them through the camera. He was a pro, you could tell. It was like he was talking directly to them, that the broadcast was live, but he knew it was recorded. He had the same color of hair that he wore two Hunger Games prior.
The recorded Flickerman began, "Welcome to the first year of your important role in the Hunger Games. You are the brave young people who may get a chance to compete with other tributes from districts all around Panem. This is a chance for the glory and honor of representing District 12."
Peeta couldn't help sit up at this. Flickerman made it feel personal, that this was their duty, to serve their District.
Flickerman's smile was plastered, and his voice, simpering, "Now I understand you might be nervous about Reaping Day. Who wouldn't? It's a big day for you young people, but I assure you there is nothing to worry about."
Someone snorted. He look to see who it was. Of course, Katniss. She was looking around the room with an amused look on her face. She didn't say anything. When no one reacted with anything close to humor she turned around again.
She's brave. She made him want to be brave, but he couldn't help think about all the Games he'd seen before. They were definitely not something to laugh about.
Flickerman continued to narrate while images of the previous victory tours showed in the background. There was even one brief clip of a young Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's own, and only victor. The person on the screen was unrecognizable from the man he saw around town, a man who sometimes bought bread, and always in a stupor of drunkenness.
"So you see," Flickerman continued, "the life a Victor is noble. Honor to your district, respect from the Capital, and many admirers. Tomorrow, when you wait in line hoping for your name to be called, know that the Capital welcomes you, this your first Reaping year."
The lights went up. Everyone was silent. Dazed even. The reality of the games, and the Reaping settled into their thoughts. No escape. The life of a victor for District 12 was nearly impossible. The only example was drunk.
"...1 sheet per person."
Realization hit. He just missed what Mr. Candor said to the class. He took a sheet of paper that was handed to him. It was an unusual, as they hardly ever wrote anything in class. Still, he took 1 sheet and passed it along.
Mr Candor wrote on the board in front of them.
Write your name:
Write something about yourself that you are proud of:
Write the meaning of your name:
This was the most unusual request of all. They rarely talked about ourselves, and never spent time writing in class. No one ever asked us what we were proud about ourselves. How could we even begin to answer that? Our life wasn't even our own so, how could we be proud of that.
He began to write anyways --
My name is Peeta Theus Mellark. I am a baker's son (I think I am proud of that). I like to decorate cakes, and I can draw. I think my name means stone.
After a minute, he couldn't think of anything more to say. He put down my pencil and looked straight ahead. Katniss was still writing. She did everything with fire and passion. He looked at his paper again, doubtful of his responses. He erased the part about decorating cakes and drawing. Instead he wrote-- I am reliable, and I help my family. I am quick to learn new skills. I am strong.
He thought about the change in what he wrote. It seemed less, but it also seemed more real too. He wanted to write that he was brave, but he knew he wasn't. Not like her.
He also didn't feel like he was allowed to be good at drawing. That it was more for him. And decorating the bakery items was only because of his father's skill and teaching, not his own. He was a good son. He was proud of that.
"Now, I want you to each take turns sharing with your classmates what you wrote. I will collect the papers when you are done. Stand where you are and read your paper."
In turn each of them read their papers. Or course, he couldn't help be mesmerized by what Katniss shared. He didn't dare look at her when she spoke, it would give too much away. He took in the sound of her voice instead.
"My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am proud that I can take care of my family. I am named after a plant root, and it means archer."
"Thank you Katniss." Mr. Candor said.
By the time He stood to read his, he felt hot. His heart raced like it did when he searched for the songbird in his dreams. He stole a quick glance at Katniss. Mistake. Her words were still echoing in his ear.
He got a false start and had to begin reading his paper a second time. He forced himself to concentrate on looking at Mr. Candor, but Mr. Candor was standing right in front if Katniss' desk. Far too close to not be distracted. Still, he never took his eyes off Mr. Candor's forehead.
Someone from behind, when he'd finished, said, "I thought your name means bread. You are the dough boy, right?"
The class laughed. He was so relieved to be done that he sat down and laughed with them. They were probably right, he was more bread than stone.
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