"Primrose Everdeen"
The words ring clear across the square. Isn't it odd how two words can change someone's life so completely? It's the same every Hunger Games. Two children are sent into an arena and die. And we all watch, some in horror, some in glee. But we all watch, we all have to watch. And this time little Prim will be killed. I shut my eyes tight, and as soon as my eyes close I see her. Long, dark hair falling down her back, tanned skin covered in dirt. And then those bright, grey eyes. Seeing nothing but death. I can hear her heart pounding in my ears. She's scared. Weapons flash behind my eyelids. A spear? A sword? An Arrow? How will she be murdered? How will the capitol kill her? And I know that the capitol won't personally kill her. No that would be scandalous. But they will have sent her and her murderer into that arena. They will stand by, on the edge of their plush, velvet seats, and watch an innocent child bleed to death.
My eyelids snap open when I hear Katniss' voice.
"Me! No, not her me!" No. No. Not Katniss. Not her. I've loved Katniss for as long as I can remember. On the first day of school, we all walked in. And all I saw was Katniss, with her dark, braided hair and those big, gray eyes, even then hardened with the wear and tear of malnourishment and determination. I remember my Father leaning down, and pointing to her.
"See that girl, Peeta?" He whispered into my ear. See her? How could I miss her? I nodded obligingly. "I wanted to marry that girls Mother" I looked up at him, confusion clear in my blue eyes.
"So, why didn't you?" I lisped. Because in my little boy brain, if you wanted to marry someone then you did, no questions asked.
"Because when her Daddy sings, all the birds stop, and listen."
I never knew Katniss, but I always knew I loved her. It was something that was hard not to do, but no one else seemed to share my thoughts on Katniss' sublime beauty and I was glad, because she was mine. One day we'd get married and live happily ever after, in a big house with lots of children. Then there was Gale Hawthorne.
I hated Gale. I do hold a little grudge towards him, for being so effortlessly close with the girl of my dreams. But I can't truly hate him. He was tall and ruggedly handsome, with thick, dark hair and grey eyes, so common in the seam. And then there was me. I was tall. And had muscle from years spent lifting flour for the bakery, and some girls loved that. But not Katniss. At first I told myself that her and Gale were cousins, related somehow. They couldn't be together. I loved Katniss. There Fathers had both died in a mining explosion, and both had become close after it. But I knew that Katniss and Gale weren't truly together. Not like Tulip and Coal, who kissed on corners and spent every second of there time together, except when Coal did things like go-all-the-way with girls that plainly weren't Tulip. But they were back together after two weeks every time he did that. But Katniss and Gale. They couldn't be.