In the muddle of the hijacking, the memories filled with uncertainty, the feelings tainted, Peeta manages to remember one thing. The bread, and the dandelion...
Peeta could barely sleep, on one hand, because the bruise on his face was redder than usual and hurt about ten times more, and on the other, because he was so terrified that he might actually have to talk to Katniss. That she might actually acknowledge him in the school. That perhaps he wasn't as invisible so much as he had thought.
But as the school day went on and she hadn't said a word, hadn't shown him any bit of attention or thanks he started to think that maybe, just maybe it wasn't as big of a deal for her as it was for him...then again she didn't get smacked across the face for intentionally burning the bread...oh no, that was all on him. He would happily do it again, too, if it meant the difference between seeing her at school and not.
At the end of the day, when everyone was standing outside of the school, Peeta just caught a glimpse of her braided hair from across the schoolyard...not that there was much of one. They didn't have much in District 12, and some less than others, and some still - like the Everdeen's - seemed to have little to nothing at all.
From time to time Peeta would watch Katniss, watch her come to the school, take her seat three rows ahead of him. Watch her cringe as they would talk about the mine explosion that killed her father. He watched a lot of things, but he never had the courage to ever say anything to her. But for just a moment their eyes met, and just as quickly as that she looked to the ground, and after a few seconds tore a dandelion from where it sat at her feet. Dandelions, bright yellow flowers, that always signaled the start of spring. He liked dandelions, but he liked them even more when they were situated neatly in her hands.
Before he could say anything, could take a step in her directed, her sister came rushing out to meet her and they were gone. However brief the moment, however young they were, it was there, and no matter what they would always have that. Even if it never came to anything else, they'd always have the bread.
"Why don't you ever say anything to her," chimes in Delly unannounced.
"Why would I?" Peeta panics.
"You like her," she teases, giving him a light punch on the arm but then seeing his face she stops. "What was it this time?"
He shrugs, "I burnt some bread."
"You're never this red from burning any bread Peeta," she coos.
"I burnt it so I could give it to Katniss…" he looks at the ground and kicks at the dirt.
"Did she know that?" Delly grabs out the freeze bag she used to keep her lunch cold, and places it on the bruise. "Have you seen them lately?" she asks redundantly. "Katniss, and her little sister, they're too skinny. I'd help them if I could. I'm glad you could...even if you ended up like this."
"Thanks Delly," he places his hand over hers on the ice. "You're a good friend."
"No," she shrugs. "I'm a decent friend. A good friend would make you talk to her."
"She picked a dandelion just now," he shakes his head. "We held each other's gaze for a brief moment and then she looked down, but she grabbed a dandelion."
"Maybe it's a sign," she smiles.
"A sign of what?" he chides.
"A sign that maybe, sometime in the future," she takes her hand down from his face and puts the ice back into her bag. "Maybe sometime, you could remind her of this. A moment you saw her, when she maybe thought she was invisible - I don't know - a moment to remember, that she's here because of you. Maybe you can be the dandelion for her in the future."
"I don't know…" he hesitates.
"Give it time, Peeta," she taps him on the nose with the tip of her finger. "Some day in the future you can use this moment, I don't know when or what for, but some day it's going to mean something...count for something." Then with a gentle shove to his forearm and a swift motion towards the ground, she comes back up and hands him a dandelion, "look, now it's a moment you can share. Even if she doesn't know it. Even if she thinks you didn't notice."
"I doubt I'll ever have a time to use it Del," he taps her shoulder. "But I'll remember it, in case I do."
"Promise?" she laughs.
"Promise."
And if he only kept one promise in his life, it was this.
"...for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion," she nods in response. "I must have loved you a lot," the memories were fighting again.
"You did," she chokes out.
The memories were right. And Delly was right. He finally had a reason to mention the dandelion.
"And did you love me?" was he pressing his luck? She kept her eyes glued to the floor when she answered.
"Everyone says I did. Everyone says that's why Snow had you tortured. To break me."
"That's not an answer." So maybe he was still wrong. Maybe the dandelion was nothing more than a shared memory. Maybe it meant nothing to her at all.