Peeta wrung his hands together, a look that reflected a mixture of doubt and worry spread across the surface of his face. Katniss knew exactly what she was going to do, he was sure of it. Unlike her, Peeta had no idea what he was going to do. He was the partner to the Girl on Fire. As lame as it sounded in his head, Peeta knew that it was a good place to be. It was better than being known as the Baker's son. Everyone needed a sponsor or two. Pushing his way through the doors into the Training area, Peeta felt his heart drop to his stomach.
This is nothing like I thought it was going to be.Walking through the doors, Peeta made maybe about half of the heads turn; maybe less, he wasn't sure. What he thought he was sure of, but was obviously misinformed, was that he was sure that everyone would have his or her eyes on him, if not out of curiosity, then out of respect. Evidently not. His hands immediately clenched into fists as he moved over to the set of weights that were on the left side of the room.
Screw them. Imagine you're alone. Peeta shook his head at the feeble attempt at a rude or mean thought. There was no way he was going to be able to ignore a large group of people who were supposed to be judging him but weren't. They seemed more interested in each other's drink than on him. Nevertheless, he bent over to look at the weights in front of him. Lucky for him, he'd warmed up a little bit before he'd came to "show off", as Haymitch has said not one hour before. Grabbing the largest set of dumb bells he could find, Peeta began to do reps, which he counted off in his head.
After fifteen or so minutes had passed, Peeta turned and looked at the table of representatives and felt his brow wrinkle. He maybe had one or two people with their eyes on him. He wasn't a vain person, but he was sure that the weight that he had in his hands was at least a little bit impressive. Sweat had begun to collect on his face, and he could feel sweat trickling down his back. Enough is enough. Putting the weights down hastily, he nodded his head to the only person who was looking at him and walked out.
After pushing through the doors, he had to stop himself from punching the wall directly across from him. They're supposed to be judging us, but they have about as much of an attention span as a goldfish. The walk to his room was blurred and almost non-existent, for he didn't remember it. As he shoved the door to his bedroom open, he let out a heavy sigh of frustration. He didn't bother changing. He drug himself to the large bed and flopped down. Tears of anger poured down his face. He just wanted to go home. Let's hope Katniss does well. Peeta thought hopefully. At least one of them would get a sponsor.