Chapter 1 – The Reaping

PEETA

Disclaimer: I have always wondered and hoped for Peeta's side of the story, thinking that his head would give a more romantic side to it. The story in itself is based on Suzanne Collins' novel. I created Peeta's perspective based on the entire book, so there will obviously be similar lines.

I wake up with a start; half-dazed, half-expecting my mother's shrill voice to wake me from oblivion. Oddly enough, it didn't come, and that's when I remembered that this day may be an exception to our normal routine.

My family lives because of the bread we make. We are not exactly rich – our hunger is satisfied only by the stale food or bad bread that none of the customers would even bother to look at – but still, we are better off compared to the people in the Seam. On an ordinary day, my mornings begin with my mother pestering me to wake up, gather ingredients in the market (which involves carrying a hundred-pound load of flour), and assist my father in baking.

Oftentimes, I would see her and her little sister on the street outside our shop – just staring at the cakes I've decorated. This gives me a sense of pride, particularly because this is the one thing that I can do really well. She may not know it, but ever since I was a small boy, I've had this huge admiration for her. Katniss Everdeen: the girl from the Seam who looks radiant even with the troubles that life has given her.

I sigh. My adoration for her is a lost cause; that I have decided years ago. Apart from the cakes that she and her sister, Prim, come to adore, there is no other part of me that she even noticed. So I channel all my feelings into my work; and I do what I can to excel in it. This in itself is the reason why I am able to gather the energy to wake up each day and face my mother's demanding voice.

Today, though, I am given the liberty to stay in bed a little later than usual, but out of habit (or nervousness, maybe?). I got off the bed and proceeded to take a bath. My mother has gone off to the market herself (as one of her rare moments of kindness) to relive me and my brothers of our duties. Just when I'm about to take my breakfast, a knock in our back door startles me.

I knew who it was, of course. My father had been trading with them for years now, and they sort of have an unspoken agreement to do these trades without my mother. Of course, this will be impossible with her in the room. I look up in time to see my father open the door to Gale Hawthorne, Katniss' hunting partner… and my mortal enemy (in my mind, that is).

"Good morning, Gale," I hear my father say.

"Good morning, Sir." Gale replied. There's a certain huskiness to it, and I find myself imagining his days with Katniss while they are alone in the woods to hunt. "Would you care for a trade? I only have one squirrel, though."

"Oh that's fine. Here, take this loaf of bread."

Gale looks at the bread incredulously. I am certain that he was not expecting this: my father is a very nice man, but to trade one squirrel for a whole loaf seems very surprising to him. "Are you sure? But I don't have anything else to give you. If Katniss and I would be able to get more game later, I promise to give you some of it."

My father laughs. "Oh, that is not necessary. Take the whole loaf – you need your stomachs full for later."

Gale nods, deciding, maybe, that the reaping can make people closer and nicer. "Well, thanks. Good luck to your sons." He said before leaving our door and heading to the path towards the woods.

"That's a nice trade, dad." I said, hoping that it would hide the scowl on my face from thoughts of Gale and Katniss.

"Well son, everybody deserves to have something to smile about today. At least, before the clock strikes 2."

I nodded, understanding the ordeal that we all have to face later. Every year, the Capitol picks one girl and one boy from every district to become "tributes" for the Hunger Games, which is our penalty for the revolution that happened 74 years ago. I am on the safer side compared to other teens from 12 to 18 years old. Having no need to sign of for tesserae, I only have 5 slips of paper on that round ball. Compare that to what people from the Seam (who signs up for tesserae every year), and the odds that they will be picked are definitely higher. But that still doesn't mean that I'm immune.

My older brother is lucky enough not to be picked. I am hoping that his luck will be passed on to me; but at the same time, I'm also hoping for something else: Katniss' safety from the reaping.

I nervously waited until a few minutes before 2 and we all have to go to the square. I joined the other boys my age and waited for the entire program to start. I craned my head from side to side, hoping to get a glimpse of her, and I am not disappointed. From where I stood, I can see her face, lost in thought, and I wondered if she's as nervous as I am. Probably more so, because surely her name will be in that ball more times than mine. But, seeing her eyes squint at the direction of the 12 year olds, I had a distinct feeling that she is more worried for her sister.

When the mayor and Effie Trinket, District 12's tribute escort, come to the stage, the feeling of dread started to creep further. The mayor began to read the history of the Hunger Games at exactly 2 pm, and I stare blankly in front. If Katniss' name will be picked today, there's no way I would be able to hold on to my sanity for the next few weeks, knowing that she will be in harm's way. And thinking of all the other tributes from 11 other districts who are bent on killing her for them to be crowned as victor makes my blood boil in rage. No, it can't happen to her, I thought.

The program is advancing way too fast, and soon enough, the camera crews are zooming in one Effie and the two large bowls containing our names. When I heard her say "Ladies first!" in her bubbly voice, the muscles in my whole body tightened, and a chant formed in my brain. Not her, not her, not her.

And it wasn't her. It's her sister – Primrose Everdeen – and I catch sight of the little girl who admired my cake decorations walking slowly towards the stage. A hushed murmur for this injustice goes through the crowd. It's dreadful enough for two people from each district to be taken against our will to fight to the death in Capitol. For what? For their entertainment, I thought.

I grimaced as I caught sight of Katniss who is now gripped by another boy to keep her steady. This must be devastating for her, I realized. After a few seconds, she seemed to snap back to reality, and a voice loud enough for everybody to hear, she shouted her sister's name. "Prim! Prim!"

Just then, she started making her way to the stage before her sister could mount the stage. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she shouted, and I can see the confusion and surprise in the people on stage. I gulped; this is far worse than I had expected. It's like my nightmares had come to life, and at this moment, seeing the one girl who caught my eye since 5, I felt hatred. For the Capitol.

This can't be happening. If this is a nightmare, please, I need to wake up. Now.

I wanted to rush to her, to protect her from the dangers that the forthcoming weeks will bring, and briefly I wished to be there beside her. But I knew that if I will be picked to be at the arena, I don't stand a chance. Someone like me – who only knows how to make frostings on cakes – will easily be taken down by the other, more experienced fighters.

Prim is now screaming, telling her sister that she can't go. I watched, frozen, as Gale picked up Prim and brought her to her mother. What is he thinking now? Will he volunteer to be with her in the arena? To protect her? It has to be in his thoughts, I can see how this turn of events is wrecking havoc in his brain and how he's almost in tears. .

Katniss has reached the stage and is now standing beside Effie. There is no turning back now. "What's your name?" Effie asks.

"Katniss Everdeen." She said, in a low voice, which I think she's trying to keep steady.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody, let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Efife says.

I wondered idly that I will come to hate anyone who would clap for this – for Katniss, who will be pushed into an arena where she can so easily die. Miraculously, no one even attempts to do so, and silence crept up the entire square. Then I saw it: people were raising the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it up high in the air. A symbol of admiration, and symbolic way of saying goodbye to someone you care about.

I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. Surely, Katniss can stand a chance, right? She's a hunter, a very good one, except that the others, especially those from districts 1, 2, and 4, are also good fighters.

Just then, Haymitch Abernathy, one of the two victors from our district (the other one died already) came up to Katness. "Look at her! Look at this one!" he said, while keeping his arms around her shoulders. "I like her! Lots of spunk! More than you! More than you! " he shouted, before falling head-first on the stage.

I saw her open her mouth slightly and see fear cross her eyes before she composed herself again. She's trying to look strong for the cameras, I thought. The look of fear on her face confirmed my worst thoughts: that she may be acknowledging her slim chance of winning. And how strong is she, really, against other fighters who are well-fed and trained for this event? She can't die in that arena, not yet, I haven't even worked up the nerve to talk to her. I cringe and felt the desire to protect her ripple through me.

"What an exciting day!" Effie trills. Then she walked over to the boys' ball. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

I can't make myself focus, my thoughts were focused entirely on Katniss. Watching her every breath. Thinking this could be the last time I may see her in person… if I don't get picked, that is.

"Peeta Mellark."

I catch the look of surprise and worry in Katniss' face at the same time that my mind registered what had happened. Effie called me. I am also a tribute.

Life can play such a huge joke on you. Who would have thought that it will decide to grant my wish at the last minute. It seemed to hear my desire to protect her and to talk to her moments ago and gave me this opportunity.