She sits in the patch of thick grass in front of the schoolyard, curling her fingers through the blades, coming up with small fistfuls. Alone, as normal. She doesn't notice me, a good ten feet behind her. I watch her, hesitating, despite how I may look to the thirty some-odd kids at my back.
Her single braid find her discernible, as she dons it regularly. Her dark jacket, however, is new. It is broad over her needle-thin shoulders, nearly swallowing her frame. Brown and worn, it is seemingly secondhand, possibly from her father. Still, it is so impossibly Katniss I can't imagine it belonging to someone else.
I shuffle closer, my face beginning to heat. Before I get close enough for her to notice me, though, I stop. From where I was standing before I couldn't have noticed it what with all screaming and laughing behind me. I can barely hear it from where I am now, but it's there, being carried by the wind. Under her breath, she hums sweetly. It's a tune I don't exactly recognize, but the wondrous lilting of her voice makes it evident that the song is something she speaks with all her heart. And I realized for the second time since I've known Katniss that I am so agonizingly and completely gone.
She turns abruptly. I snap my eyes to my shoes. "Are you watching me?" she asks. I look up to meet her narrowed eyes, blushing like mad. I shake my head furiously.
"No," I say. I step closer. "I—I wanted to give you something." She frowns.
"I don't need anything." She turns back around, dismissing me.
But I stay. I reach into my knapsack, pull out the bag with fidgeting hands. "Cheese buns," I say, trusting my arm forward. She turns around again, about to tell me to leave but I continue. "From my parents' bakery. There's four, so you could take some home to your family if you like." She gasps, almost inaudibly. "They'd be cold by then, though. I guess I should have brought them to you straight from home. I could find a fresh batch for you, if you don't want these." My cheeks burn, and I pull my hand away beginning to put them back into my knapsack.
"No," she says. "I want these. I mean, it's okay."
I shake my head. "I could—"
"Peeta." She says my name as if she's not sure it's right, tentative. I freeze. It's the first time I've heard her say my name. She takes the bag in her hands gingerly on the tips of her fingers, almost as if she is unsure of what to do with them. She looks up at me, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you, Peeta. For thinking about them."
I nod, smiling widely. "You're very welcome, Katniss." And in that moment, I can't help but wish I could hear her say my name forever.