I open my eyes to my pasty white walls, get up and dress as if were any other day here at the bakery, I practically collapse in my attempt to catch the smell of freshly baked bread. Nothing new but its nice every once in a while to appreciate what goes on around here.
As I walk downstairs I cant help but close my eyes and take in what I can before a day of hard work. I see my mother hard at work attending several customers and I see a nice roll of wheat bread on the kitchen table. Hard to get around here in our district but every once in a while, on a special occasion, my mom can pull a few strings between us and district eleven.
As I reach for the bread I suddenly stop, reminding myself that I'm not allowed to eat our bread unless paid for. I turn to my mother to see her face suddenly glare at me as if she knew what I was thinking. To my surprise she slowly nods her head in approval. I wouldn't want to stop and ask her for her motives so I just sit down and give myself a couple minutes to enjoy my breakfast. Usually my mom wouldn't tolerate me eating bread from the store. Usually id get a smack to my hand or rarely to the back of my head, if my mom can reach. I'm five-eleven and she barely hit's the five foot mark but she still is the authority around the house. I'm only sixteen and I go to school nearby. In about two years I'll be able- I'll have to work in the mines. I thought about how fun it would be to work there, up to the day of the mine explosion. About five years ago a big explosion killed all of the men working in the seam that day. My uncle died in that explosion and he was one of my best friends growing up. My parents were always busy with the bakery. I seemed to hang out with him most of the time. I couldn't bear but crying myself to sleep that whole week until I finally accepted the fact that he was gone. He had no wife or kids so my family was offered to be present to receive the pin from the capitol as a sign of 'gratitude' from the country of Panem. This angered me, I thought that we should've received something more sentimental like a statue of him. When I told my mom she tried to explain to me how 'its too over the top son.' and 'Peeta, the capitol would not approve.'
I never really respected the capitol after the death of my uncle no matter how over the tops my requests were. I'm sorry that I don't see a pin to replace a human life as enthusiastic or honorable as the older people's perspective but I've never really tried to anger the capitol. My mom always said that it wasn't good to anger the capitol, so I try not to.
As i rose from the kitchen table i see my dad come out from behind the door that leads to the back with the ovens. I see what seems to be a squirrel tail and I cant help but let out a tiny laugh. He turns. well aware he's been caught, and gives a sly half smile. He walks outside so fast my mom doesn't see him but hears the slamming of the front door. My dad's crazy for squirrels but my mom hates to know that he trades a nice loaf of bread for the rodent. He's done this multiple times.
"Peeta!" he calls me to him in a demanding tone.
"Coming!" is all that comes out. I pass my mother, kiss her on the cheek "thanks for breakfast mama," and continue outside to where my dad was calling.
I walk outside and I see my dad on the side of our house signaling me to him.
"Son, I need you to pretend that you caught this squirrel for me," I laugh "so your mom wont be suspicious of where I got it from"
"But how did I catch it?" I say with uncertainty in my voice.
"Peeta, your a smart boy. Think of something" he said as he walked off.
I'm not very creative. but I can sure talk my way out of things. Mom always said that I could work for the capitol. I never believed her, once you live in a district that's your district for life.
I leaned against the tree. I let out a sigh, there's no way I can pull this off. I begin to examine my kill. Light brown fur, like the color of bread right when it comes out of the oven. I laugh and notice that all my comparisons of color always come from the bakery. I see an arrow right through the head. Clean kill
"At least it didn't suffer" that's when I thought of it. I don't give myself enough credit for these kind of things. " Peeta you, sir, are a genius."
I grab the squirrels foot and snap it in half as it was a toothpick. It hurt me more to do it, although it didn't hurt it at all due to the whole no feeling thing.
I walk inside confident with my solution.
"Peeta where'd you find that thing?" asks my mom, she's so curious it angers me sometimes.
"I killed it," she squints her eyes. "well lets just say I put it out of its misery. The poor thing was suffering by its broken foot. I would quit crying so I just got a knife and hit it in the head."
"Since when do squirrels randomly brake their feet?" I'm out of ideas.
"Something must've attacked it." I left before she came up with another question. I couldn't help but have a feeling of satisfaction in me. I turn to my dad, he smiles. Yep, now I'm sure of one thing, I'm good at something other than baking.