Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, that genius creation is all down to the wonderful Suzanne Collins.

I woke with a start, like every morning; but today was different, it was my first day of school and the anticipation was beginning to trickle into my bloodstream as I hobbled out of bed, over to my window and opened the curtain. A pathetic excuse for a curtain it was full of holes, hanging by a few tendrils and very translucent.

I looked for a few minutes, out of the window, and across the small district where I live; the poorest, smallest and most pathetic of the twelve that surround the Captiol and we make up the country of Panem. From my window I could see all of the shops, though there are few, I could see the Hob and I could just make out a few houses that mark the beginning of the Seam. District 12 always gives the effect of a black and white picture; the streets are long since blackened from the years of coal dust embedded into them. All of the residents are pale and underfed and the clothes that we wear are mostly colourless or black. We have no real desire to stand out, no occasion calls for it.

Eventually I pull myself away from the window and knowing that my parents were already busy downstairs I began to get dressed and sorted for the day by myself. I changed into a neat set of clothes, ready since last night, combed my blond hair wanting to make the right impression and brushed my teeth.

Once I had made my way downstairs, I grabbed the slice of burned bread that mother had no doubt laid out for me and the cup of water next to it. I forced the spoiled slice down my throat, coaxing it with the water and when I was done headed to where I knew my father would be.

Since my mother had no real care for me or my older brothers I would have to rely on my father to accompany me to school. As I suspected he was in the bakery, kneading dough as he usually does and looking as happy as ever. He was always in a good mood, something I could never quite understand.

He notices me come in without me having to say a word.

'Are you ready to go, son?' he asks with an assuring smile.

'Yes father.' I beam back at him knowing that my happiness brings him happiness.

'Are you nervous?' he asks as he leaves the dough, that is well kneaded, on the side to rise while he is absent, and removes his apron.

I shake my head with a huge grin. 'Not at all father. I'm quite excited really.'

'That's my boy.' He says as he hangs his apron on a hook grabs his coat and places an arm around my shoulder.

As we make our way to the small school that I will spend the next thirteen years of my life in learning things I never knew... obviously. I would also get to meet many new people as I'd kept to myself, mostly because the nearest children to my house were those from the Seam which mother despised. I'd heard her call them every bad word in the book at least twice over. I seemed to have no aversion to them, they were only children like me but just to appease her I kept my distance. Now that I was at school though, I could mingle without my mother's prying eye to shout at me for conversing with them.

As we were walking I couldn't help but think whether or not deep down I was kind of nervous. What if I wasn't good enough, or clever enough, or funny enough to fit in? I tried to push this out of my mind and carried at a steady pace down the road.

It didn't take us long to reach the school and I could see lots of black haired and grey eyed children, Seam children already. One caught my eye straight away. A girl.

The only girl I'd ever spoken to was Delly; a girl who was not from the Seam so my mother approved, one day I had been painting in the back garden when she walked up to me and said hello. Out of politeness I had said it back and expected her to carry on the conversation, but she walked off. The next time I was outside the same thing happened. Again and again it happened until I was the one to tell her my name and since then we'd talked a little more each time. She was nice. That's all i really know.

This girl, the girl in the red dress with two black braids hanging down her back, was something else. She seemed different just by the look of her. She was talking to a man I assumed was her father; he was kneeling down in front of her and was whispering what seemed to be words of encouragement to comfort her. i could only see her from the side but her face suddenly lit up and she nodded enthusiastically to her father. He smiled and told her something else; he then kissed her forehead and stroked her cheek before turning to go. She smiled after him until he had gone from her view and she turned and skipped into the school still beaming.

My father was standing behind me the whole time I was watching her.

'She's special, that girl.' He said abruptly.

'How do you know father?' I turned to face him, perplexed by his statement.

'She's just like her father.'

'How do you know that he's special?'

He smiled slightly, like he was thinking of a distant memory.

'Well, son, I wanted to marry her mother who was a merchant's daughter. She worked in the local apothecary, had healers hands from the day she was born was what everybody said. I had my heart set on her and for a while I thought I was in with a chance until a coal miner caught her eye. I still thought I could have married her at that point, until he opened his mouth and sang. Much to my dismay he was indescribable when he used his voice, even the birds stop to listen.'

I contemplated this for a moment but before I could ask him anymore questions he kissed my forehead, ruffled my hair then smoothed it down again and turned to go.

'Don't forget Peeta, amaze them by showing them that you have a way with words. You're the smartest five-year old I know, make them see it too. I'll see you later son.'

I smiled at him as he went. It was though he had read the doubts in my mind, managing to squash them with few words of comfort like he usually does. I make my way inside to start the routine of school.