In a small house, there was a boy hastily putting his belongings into different suitcases and boxes. His clothes, books, art supplies, and everything else of importance was being packaged safely. The boy was Peeta Mellark, a son who has artistic aspirations and a less-than appealing mother.
"Are you done packing up yet?!" A loud voice asked from downstairs. Judging from how annoyed and feminine it was, it could have only been his mother.
"I still have a few more things," Peeta said, loud enough for her to hear. He always made sure to not sound aggressive, because that would throw him into a battle that he knew he couldn't win.
"I swear to God, Peeta! I wish you spent as more time being useful around the house than you do trying to become some stupid artist!" She yelled back, most likely pacing around the house afterwards.
The boy sighed, continuing to do what his mother wanted. Normally, a person would have been visually upset after hearing their own mother speak to them in such a way. However, the adolescent had been putting up with this for quite a while. She wasn't always this bad, at least, not before his father passed away. His father was the only one he had to protect him from his mother's abuse. Without him, she spoke as she liked.
It had been a few years since the man died. Not too long after that, maybe a year, the woman started to date. Apparently, she had been dating the same man for the two past years, and they had been engaged not too long ago. Of course, his mother never cared enough to tell him about important things. Just a week ago, she broke the news to Peeta: they would be moving in with her fiance. Much of a surprise to the teenager, the man had a son as well. Sadly, his witch of a mother never said a word about him until now.
"I wonder what he's like," Peeta mumbled to himself, placing a cook book into a box. He considered himself to be a bland person among his schoolmates. The boy had a few friends: Katniss, Madge, Gale, Leta, Rue, and Thresh. To be honest, they were the only ones that he talked to at all. Peeta never believed that he belonged in the popular clique, and he had no interest of being in it. From his perspective, most of them were arrogant, obnoxious, or just plain bullies. He could remember one of them, whose name was most likely Marvel, that spilled paint all over his art project because he and some others were playfully shoving each other.
"...Happy thoughts," He mumbled, not wishing to be annoyed by people like him. Peeta desperately hoped that his future step-brother wasn't going to be a pain; it would a nightmare to live with an obnoxious, popular prick. Now that he thought about it, even his two older brothers were annoying at times. However, it was easy to see that they meant well, and they knew when to stop. Though it made him feel slightly childish, he wished that his two older brothers would still be living with him. Both of them could probably make living with a irritating person a lot easier. Sadly, his oldest brother had gone into the army, and his other older brother went to college. That left Peeta completely alone with his mother, and he lived a nightmare for the past few years.
"I finished packing!" Peeta yelled, wiping a drip of sweat from his forehead.
"Now go change into your best clothes! I don't want this man to think we're a bunch of slobs!" She yelled, using the same aggressive tone as always. The boy sighed, going over to pick up his set of clothing. It was nothing too fancy; there was a white dress shirt with black dress pants. His shoes, although a little hold, still shined on the dark brown surface.
When he finished dressing himself, the blond's blue eyes scanned the somewhat empty room. His mother stated that they would only take what they wanted, and a friend of her fiance would come by and pick up the remaining goods around the house, such as the beds and couches. She stated that this man, although he wasn't as rich as a celebrity, was doing well in the financial department.
In his silent state, Peeta could only think of his father. Would he be rolling over in his grave if he saw this? It was as if Mother had never cared much for him in the first place. The adolescent felt disappointed in his mother for being so disrespectful to his dad before and after his death, but there was nothing he could do. His mother was who she was, and he was who he was.
"Peeta, get your ass down these stairs! I can't stand in this rotten place for another second!" She yelled, the sound of a door echoing throughout the empty house. The blond sighed, taking one more look before he began to carry boxes and suitcases filled with his personal belongings to the truck.
"Wish me luck, dad."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Sorry for it being a little short, but it was mostly for giving out some of Peeta's background and the setting of the story. This is the first time in years that I have written fanfiction, so I hope it wasn't too bad. By the way, I gave Foxface the name "Leta". I would be happy if you left reviews! Anyways, have a nice day!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.