A/N: This is my first story, but I'm really excited to finally share something on here. Shoutout to my best friend, Artemis Rose, for being my beta. This story is The Hunger Games told from Peeta's perspective, so I'm following the story as closely as I possibly can. Any dialogue that takes place when Katniss is present, was quoted from the book, and I do not own it. Nor do I own any of these characters, or events, they are all the property of Suzanne Collins, and I'm just writing this story for fun.
Chapter 1
I wake up, seeing the first beams of sunlight entering through the window. From another room, I hear my father's snores, slowly but surely, breaking the silence of the early morning. For a moment, I wonder what he is still doing in bed and asleep, normally he is up before the sun, preparing the bakery for the day. Then I remember. It's reaping day, and he won't be opening the bakery today.
The reaping, the cause of fear for every child in Panem. "Will I have to go to the hunger games this year?" is the question on the mind of everyone in Panem between the ages of 12 and 18, and the fear for every parent is that they will have to watch their children fight to the death on screen.
"What if it's me this year?" I think.
I quickly shake the thought from my head. That is no way to be thinking. Besides, I only have my name in five times, whereas I know there are boys, who live in the Seam, who's names are in the reaping ball more than forty times. The chances of me being picked are so slim…
"But not impossible," I whisper.
That does it. I can't sleep so I go down to the bakery, I always feel my best when I am baking, I enjoy it. This is something I can control, how much flower, water, yeast, etc. goes into the breads and other things. Baking is how I get my stress out, and on a day like today when I have no control over the odds, I like being able to de-stress and do something I have control over. I have a craving for cookies, so I get out the ingredients to make them. My mom won't be too pleased. She doesn't like it when I bake without permission; she wants us to follow orders, to be obedient robots. I try to please her, I really do, but sometimes there are extenuating circumstances…
It was a rainy April day. I heard my mom yelling at someone in our back yard. I looked over her shoulder to see who was infuriating my mother so. I recognized her immediately; I'd had a crush on her since I was five. Her name is Katniss Everdeen. She's beautiful, with her long dark hair and grey eyes. But that's not why I love her. On the first day of school, I heard her sing, and I melted. Everyday I tell myself that I'm going to talk to her, tell her how I feel. Yet, everyday, my nerves get the best of me, and I end up walking home, beating myself up for being a wuss. On that cold April day, she was looking for food. I knew her dad had been killed recently, and I guess they were having a hard time making ends meet. She clearly looked like she was starving to death, and if she looked that bad, I can only imagine how her seven year old sister was fairing. My mom walked back in the house, out the window, I saw her fall against a tree and just sit. I couldn't do nothing, and just let her, and very likely her family, die. There was some bread in the oven, my mom asked me to take it out. I remember making a rash decision, I burned both loaves, knowing what would happen.
My mom struck me across the face, but I was prepared. I took her blow, then, as instructed, took the bread outside to feed to the pig. But that's not what I did with it. I threw both loaves to Katniss, hoping that it would help her and her family. I put all the love that I couldn't say into that throw. It was worth the beating, saving her life.
I haven't told my parents about Katniss yet. My dad likes her and her sister, even buy's the squirrels Katniss hunts, but my mom is a different story. She despises those "Seam brats" as she calls them. I don't really care, but part of me will always seek my mother's approval. But, Katniss is worth facing my mother's disappointment, and possibly wrath.
I smile, thinking about her. Then I go back to making my cookies. I think chocolate chip sound good, and my dad can sell the leftovers in the bakery. As the smell of warm chocolate chip cookies fills the house, I hear stirring upstairs. It will be my dad, my mom and brothers don't get up until they absolutely have to. That's how my dad and I are different from the rest of the family; we like to be awake, and to help people. My mom and brothers are out for themselves, and I guess, with District 12's economy, you have to be. I just can't do that; I don't like to see people suffer.
I see my dad walk down the stairs to the bakery. He looks worn. I know he did not really want to marry my mother, but it was the best arrangement he could get. I don't think he's ever really been happy. I can't say I blame him, she treats him so horribly.
"Morning, son," he smiles at me. I love my dad, often times I feel like he is the only one in my life who understands me. Well, him and Delly Cartwright.
"Hi, dad," I say. "Sorry, for the mess, I'll clean it up. I just had such a craving for chocolate chip cookies."
"It's fine, we can probably sell these in the bakery tomorrow."
"That's exactly what I was thinking."
A little while later, after I've had my cookies, I take a bath to get clean and wash all the flour off of me. My mom lays out my reaping clothes, and nice shirt and pants. I put them on, knowing that both my brothers, Rye and Barly, wore these at my age. Rye is 20, and Barly is 18. They are nice, I guess, but I don't think they like me very much. I'm not the same kind of person, I'm more quiet than they are.
I put on the outfit, and steel myself. This is going to be hard no matter which way you look at it. There aren't very many of us in Twelve, so even if I don't get picked, odds are, I will know the kids who do. But I guess this is the debt we have to repay. The districts started a war, and this is how they keep us from starting another one. What would happen if we did?
I walk out the door, and go stand in line with the others my age. I get my finger pricked, and the Peacekeepers tell me where to go. I settle into a spot between two other boys in my class; one tall with a lanky build, and dark hair and the other, thin and wiry who looked as if a slight breeze would knock him over. I immediately scan the crowd of girls for Katniss. It is an automatic thing for me…to always look for her wherever I go. I guess it comes with the deal. When you are that crazy about another person, isn't it normal to want to know where they are all the time?
"Even if you can't be with them?" I think bitterly. I spot her…her beautiful grey eyes looking strong and determined when someone taps on the microphone, sending a truly repulsive sound echoing through the square. I cringe along with everyone else at the sudden assault of our eardrums, and look up to see Effie Trinket, the overly perky escort from the Capitol, at the podium. Her unnaturally pink hair stands up on her head like an obnoxious mound of cotton candy. She smiles to us all, and, with an annoyingly high-pitched voice, she introduces the event, and then a video about the Dark Days is played. We have to watch this video about the Dark Days, or the rebellion that took place seventy-five years ago, every year. The same one, over and over again, it's tedious at this point. The rest of the rituals of the reaping take place, then, awkwardly, the only living District 12 victor, Haymitch Abernathy, tries to hug Effie and she gets the look of extreme discomfort on her face. It's funny, but I'm not laughing, too nervous, I guess.
After all the ceremonial hoopla, Effie says, "Ladies first," and goes to pull a name.
I really don't want it to be Katniss. So what she doesn't know I exist? She's so beautiful, and if she's picked, there's no way her mom and sister will survive without her. I wait for the name, saying in my head, "Please don't be Katniss, please don't be Katniss."
And it's not. It's her sister. Primrose Everdeen.
