Insignificance is some thing unimportant, some thing that is consequentially not the most necessary thing in the world, or the thing recognised as most important to the individual. However, there is just some thing about the way the wind can catch in a sail boats sails that makes you wonder why we ever criticise the wind, when it can make cotton look like milk flooding over the blue sky like some one tipped a glass over.
And then all the times we admire the yellow buttercups as they turn gold throughout the warmth of the day, when their cousins the dandelions, can tell the time, and grant a wish every time their seeds are whisked away on the tidings of another time.
Little things we take for granted every day, that are the foundation building blocks of the imaginaton every child possesses before they are grown up. A mind so empty of worries, and situations that seem dark, that their eyes open and see the world as this wonderful place filled with important things, no matter how eclectic the library, or eccentric the old ladies hair style, each tiny part of the scenery is crucial.
But what is it that stops us thinking like the child, as they gaze at the button moon, a twirling coin in the hands of a midnight fate? Like myself right now, as the mind begins to grow, it collects all sorts of new information, from new words, to learning to sew, to the knowledge of each note in a musical scale. Our eyes stop drinking in every single thing they can, and find themselves glued to the pages of books, where the images are printed in the ink of the words there.
Only, my eyes are not glued to the pages of my history book, they are not reading about the sickening rescue our Capitol claims to have made in order to keep us alive today. My eyes do not admire their costumes in the photographs, or envy how they have the easy life when we do all of their chores.
My eyes are gazing up from beneath my long lashes, to the back of Peeta Mellarks head. He sits in front of him, his elbow moving from time to time closer to the edge of his desk as he takes notes on what the teacher is writing. His concentration is just another slap in the face, another note to say "he will never love you". To him I am the insignificant sunlight streaming through the window, Im meant to be there, but it wouldnt kill him if I wasnt.
By the way, Im Katniss Everdeen, 16 year old resident and hunter situated in district 12. I know my talking is some thing that might seem weird, but its just one of those things that comes so naturally to me, talking like I know every thing. I just love to learn in general. Learning is some thing that might move me to a more pleasant place one day, maybe even the capitol. I want to end up in a comfortable house, plenty of food on the table and no need to move from before a cosy fire.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking - dream on, district 12. Thats what Im thinking too.
"Miss Everdeen?" My head snaps up to the stern smirk and folded arms of Miss Vincent, her glasses flash menacingly as the sun streams down, and heat up the blush on my cheeks, spreading it along my fore head and chin.
"Y-yes Miss Vincent, I'm sorry, I didnt hear what you said" I manage to stumble, her empty eyes peeling away the mask of an attentive pupil to show the guilt of the day dreamer.
"I said, could you read from where Mr Mellark finished off about the rebellion in 1948" Her eyes are expectant but revealing nothing, as I glance down at my closed books on the desk in front of me, gulping as my curled fingers tighten their grips around the spines.
"I'm sorry Miss Vincent, I- I cant do that" I keep my eyes level with my desk, as all of the eyes in the room turn to me, the usually invisible shadow at the centre of the room now put on a pedestal before all to see my shame.
"Indeed, so it would seem, and would you like to explain to the class why Miss Everdeen?" the Metal frames around her glasses remain ice cold, but her voice is catching fire by now.
"B-because I wasnt paying attention" My voice gives nothing away. I hear her smile as she smirks down her nose at me.
"At least you got some thing right young lady" she spoke venomously, gripping my wrist as she drags me to the front of the class room for my punishment. I dont look up from the floor boards once, I dont need to in order to know that he is looking at me.
I can feel his blue eyes burning in to my skin, my heart beating faster and faster as we pass his seat. Kill me now, at least that would be less embarassing than see the boy I have been crushing on since I was 5 years old see me punished in front of every one.
"We all know the punishment for daydreamers dont we class?" the class nods, unsure that their response is needed, as I stand meek and defenceless at the front of the class room, fear trailing up my arms and through each nerve in my body.
"Bring them back to earth." With that Miss Vincent slams her desk draw and returns to side as her skeletal hands push me over so that my back is flat.
I feel the metal rod slam in to my back once and the breath is knocked out of my body, but no one else in the class moves. How do they not do any thing against this revolting treatment bestowed upon me after many others?
My thoughts are interrupted as the rod smashes against my spine a second time. I hear a choked sob rip itself from my mouth after another three lashes, and the tears falling down my cheeks leave blotchy marks behind on my face. I know I look hideous when I cry, and he has a front row seat to see what I beast I am.
I allow my eyes to look up at him after the tenth lash, and his eyes are carefully trained on his exercise book, but his eyes dont show that he is reading, and his posture is frozen.
After 15 lashes, the bell sounds for the end of the last class of the day, and the teacher stops, taking the pole back in to ther hands and silently stowing it in her desk drawer.
"Let that be a lesson to you all" she growls, before her face becomes neutral again. "Pack your things away you are dismissed"
The sound of satchels being buckled, and books dumped is hasty, no one wants to stay in a room once blood is spilled. It only makes the silence roar even more though.
I wait till I am sure most of the students have cleared out, alongside the teacher before I dare try to stand up.
"Argh!" Pain shoots up my back to the tip of my skull and I moan in pain, collapsing in to a heap on the ground. I push up on my arms, trembling, ready to crawl back to my seat 6 chairs down.
As I make my first step, the pain shoots again and I cry out, curling in to a ball on the floor.
I sob as the blood trickles down my back, sticky from the deep wound and clinging to the material of my dress.
Eventually I manage to get back to my desk, and I slump on my seat, to tired to move just yet.
A kind hand on my shoulder makes me freeze, and I look up to see his warm oceanic eyes gazing down at me filled with sympathy. In his hand, alongside his own, is my brown leather satchel, and my eyes move from his hand to his face in panic.
"Please, let me help you" his voice is gentle and soft, his eyes pleading. My mouth gapes like a gold fishes momentarily before I manage to nod. Great move Katniss my mind yells, the first time he speaks to you and you act like a complete and utter statue!
He smiles slightly, but there is worry present in his eyes. I cant quite assess why it is he cares, or why he is helping me, but I never look good luck in the eye and say no.
He helps me to my feet, and leans down, beckoning for me to place my arm over his shoulders, behind his neck, so I do, trying to cover up my blush, my eyes unable to leave his as they gaze in to mine with so much more force than gravity.
His arm comes up, so that he can place his arm around my waist to help me walk, but I cry out in pain, as his hand brushes over the lashings, and to my complete and utter horror tears begin streaming down my face as pulls away, his hand covered in my blood.
His eyes widen as he drops our satchels to the ground, and watches me not knowing what to do.
"I-I'm so s-sorry Peeta" I manage to whisper through my sobs. He doesnt run though, he only pulls me in to his arms unsurely and hugs me.
"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for, its ok" he cooes, so affectionately as though he really cares. "I'm not gonna' hurt you, its gonna' be ok now."
As I sniffle, his arm returns to my back slowly, and with his help, I manage to get home where Prim is stood outside of the door waving happily as she stands up from milking her goat, Lady.
"Katniss, where have you been I was so worr-" her eyes sparkle as she catches sight of Peeta.
"Oh, I didnt realise you had company, I'll just leave you two alone" she giggles, running in to the house, her metal bucket carried in her tiny hands.
"Are you going to be ok?" he asks me, as I refuse to look up at him.
"I'll be fine" I whisper. "Thankyou for helping me"
"Its the least I could do" he whispers in return, which immediately grips my attention.
"Im sorry?" I reply, as he cheeks turn red.
"Nothing" he replies, as he picks my satchel from the ground and hands it to me.
"I'll see you tomorrow then" I reply as I begin to limp in to the house
"Katniss wait" he calls from behind me, so I freeze where I am, and acknowledge him by turning my head over my shoulder in his direction.
"Yes Peeta?" I reply, my heart racing as his name passes through my lips.
"Can I meet you tomorrow, we can walk to school together?"
I suppress the whoop of joy in my head. "Yeah, sure" I say, coughing half heartedly in order to reason with saying any thing more.
"Cool, I'll see you later then I guess" and then he turns on his heel and walks towards the square, where his parents will be waiting in the comfort of their home above the bakery that Prim loves so for the cakes decorated with icing in the windows.
"See you later" I murmur as the door swings shut behind me, and my mother comes rushing to my aid.