A/N: Okay, I should be working on my other fanfic right now, but I can't make any headway on it. So, I present to you, this one-shot about Peeta thinking! (It's better than it sounds?)
Before the Games
(1 month before tribute drawing)
Peeta was sitting, his head perched on top of his large, oafish hands.
He was daydreaming at the moment, his eyes distant.
And, as you may know, teenagers think only about one thing.
Yes, he was thinking about his crush, Katniss Everdeen.
She was always in the corner, unnoticed by most. She did this on purpose; he could tell. She'd never been the same since her dad died.
Right now, in fact, she was sitting at a corner table, alone except for Madge, the mayor's daughter. Peeta supposed they were friends out of necessity. High school was a tough place, and neither coming from the Seam nor having a crippling shyness (as Madge did) helped make it easier.
Katniss was munching gingerly on a piece of bread, and Peeta couldn't help but notice. She almost never had a real lunch with her, and he hadn't seen her ever buy the cafeteria food, even though it tasted surprisingly good. Oh, how he wished to walk over and share his lunch! But, frankly, Peeta was a bit shy around girls. He never really knew how to approach them. So he stayed, fused to his seat.
One of his friends now nudged him back to reality, with a few repeated cries of his name.
"Peeta? Peeta! What do you think?"
"Huh? About what?" was Peeta's charming response.
"The wrestling match. How do you think it's going to go?"
Peeta answered in his usual way, but he wasn't paying much attention to the subject at hand. He knew that they were only talking about wrestling because they wanted to avoid the other subject- The Hunger Games. Because the Games were being held in just a month, and any one of them could wind up a tribute. Because even though they could all get by without tesserae, they still each had six tickets in the drawing.
Two years ago, in fact, one of Peeta's friends had died in the Games. He wasn't a close friend, really- just the son of one of his father's customers. From the seam, needless to say. The two had started hanging out only months before the Games. Though desensitized to violence now, Peeta had had nightmares about his friend for weeks.
Then, he thought about Katniss. (His train of thought always wound up here, due to his infatuation with her.) She probably had dozens of entries for the Games, taking out tesserae each month. And her sister, Primrose, would be entered in the draw for the first time this year. It must be a hard time for her right now, thought Peeta. He resolved to give Katniss some extra bread the next time she traded with his family.
Extra bread. Pity. Love. It was all he could give her right now. Little did he know, that one day his love would save her life.
End