One of Peeta's failed attempts at "noticing" other girls.
Her name is Lark. She sits corner from me, and she laughs with her bright grey eyes sparkling. Her straight dark hair falls down to her shoulders, and she shakes some strands out of her eyes.
She and her friends have been sitting with us for a few days now. Everyone knows that the girl Ava has a huge crush on Jack. The other girls have gathered around to chat and flirt with us, the people at my lunch table.
They are the girls that my brother warned me about, and yet today Lark just seems so…fascinating.
I was talking to my brother Ry about them the other day. "I think I like this girl from the Seam who sits at us at lunch." I told him.
"Didn't you always like her?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"That girl, the one who dad trades squirrel meat with, with the long braid?"
Of course he was talking about Katniss. Yes, I had always liked her, but she's so unapproachable. I know I'm totally out of her league. But now…there's Lark. "No, I'm completely over her. I'm talking about one of the girls who sometimes eat with us at lunch."
Ry raised his eyebrow. "A girl from the Seam who flirts with the Merchant boys? That sounds an awful lot like a Gold Digger to me."
"Gold digger?"
"Someone who's trying to marry into the Merchants to get out of the Seam."
I laughed at him. "It's not like that at all," I retorted, "we're only fifteen."
"Whatever," he replied, "I'm just giving you a warning."
Now I look over at Lark. She looks pretty. Thin, sure, but she has a cute nose and sparkling eyes. There's no way she's just after us for money—not that we have much, just more than anyone from the seam.
* * *
I wait outside the school building. This time it's not to catch a glimpse of Katniss, nor is it to wait for Meadow so I can go through all the motions of being a boyfriend without really meaning it. This time it's for Lark, someone who I really feel certain about.
"Peeta, what are you waiting here for?" It's Lark. She has a smile on her face, and her eyes are sparkling.
"You, of course." I put my arm around her shoulders and grab half her books. "I thought I'd walk you home to your house. Maybe we can hang out a bit so you don't have to be alone!"
She smiles and cheerfully accepts. We walk down the road and into town. I purposely lead her around the back of buildings, avoiding the market, and my house—the bakery—because I don't want anyone to see me. Not my brother Ry who is bound to make fun of me, not my mother who may freak out at the sight of me with a girl from the Seam, nor anyone else for that matter—people talk.
Lark asks me where we're going. "Oh, just taking the long way. I want to spend more time with you!" She smiles at this. It seems strange though, walking hand-in-hand with someone who honestly I really like, however we are not talking.
We reach the Seam. This part of town is both unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable for me. The houses are grey and coated with coal dust. The people tend to be of darker complexion. My light skin, blond hair, and clean clothes stand out—a lot. I don't know if Lark registers this at all, but she leads me directly to a house on the edge of the second block we get to. I'm relieved we didn't have to go far into the dusty streets.
"Do you want to come in?" she asks.
"Sure," I say, and she leads me through the door of her small grey house. "Is anyone else here?" I ask. The house is very small, but perhaps there is someone in the next room.
"No," she tells me, "my father and sister are both working in the mines, and my oldest sister lives with her husband down the road."
"What about your mother?" I ask, and immediately regret it. It is common for people in the Seam to die young and as a result many of them don't have both parents.
Lark's expression darkens. "She died a few years ago in a mine explosion," she says sadly. I could have guessed. I know of a few other people whose parents died in that explosion too.
"I'm sorry," I say, "I shouldn't have asked. It was rude." I put down her stuff on the table and she comes over to me.
"Its okay, you don't know much about my family." I'm surprised when she actually gives me a hug, but I hug her back.
I begin to wonder why exactly it was I came here in the first place. If we were at my house I could offer something to eat. Mom doesn't like it when I bring friends over for snacks, but if I pay for it with some of the money that Dad gives me when I work extra on weekends she doesn't object to a few cookies or rolls. But here in the Seam I can't expect to be offered a snack when most have barely enough to feed themselves.
"Are you thirsty?" Lark asks me.
"No, not really."
She goes into the tiny refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher. Apparently it's just tap water because when she pours herself a glass she refills the pitcher from the sink and places it back in the fridge. I do notice that there isn't anything else in fridge. Absolutely nothing. I don't say anything though because she seems to be trying to hide this.
She and I go into her living room area. It's very small, probably about two-thirds the size of my bedroom, the smallest room in my family's house. We sit side-by-side on an old couch saying nothing. This is really starting to get awkward when she looks at me.
"Peeta," she says, "thanks for walking me home and being here with me. It can be really lonely here after school." She leans against my chest.
"Uh, sure," I say, not really knowing what else to say.
She looks up at me; her eyes are shiny and wide. I touch her face, not really aware of what I'm doing, and then she leans in. Our lips touch and we start to kiss. Deeper and deeper, she opens her mouth and our tongues meet. I lay back on the old couch and she is on top of me. I move my hands down her sides, and then reach under her shirt to the small of her back. Her hands are moving from my face to my chest where she starts unbuttoning my shirt. I let her continue as I kiss her lips, then her ear, then her neck. She starts to pull off my shirt and I let her. I reach my hands up her back, and then pull her shirt over her head.
We lay on the couch, me shirtless and her in just her bra kissing and exploring each others bodies with our hands. Then, she reaches down and unbuckles my belt.
I stop immediately.
"What?" she asks, breathily as she continues to kiss my face and neck.
I push her up. "What are you doing?" I ask.
She leans back down. "Peeta," she says, "I want you. Let's…"
I sit up, and she looks at me startled. "We can't do this now. What if something were to happen?"
"Like what?"
I just look at her. She knows what I mean.
"Well…" she looks at me with big pleading eyes, "you could take care of me, couldn't you?"
"Look Lark, I'm not made of money!" I say, and immediately regret it. I try to think of how that sounds to her. Sure, I don't have a lot, but I still live in a home significantly larger than hers. We eat a lot of old stale bread, but I've always had enough. We even get luxuries like coffee and butcher meat on occasion. I look around. In her house, there's next to nothing. "…I…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," I say quietly.
She's crying now, but whispers "its okay. I shouldn't have expected so much from you."
Now I really feel guilty. What does she mean she shouldn't have expected so much from me? "Look, Lark. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I can't be who you think I am."
She seems to accept this and casts her eyes down. I look over into the Kitchen and realize what I need to do. I know I can't just leave her like this. "Lark, come with me, okay?"
She puts on her jacket and follows me out of her house. I'm walking quickly and she's rushing after me a few paces behind. I walk her back into town and to the alley way behind the row of shops that includes my place: the bakery. I go until we are at the back of the butcher shop next to our place. I finally look back at Lark. She seems confused, and looks so small and thin. "Stay right here," I say. Though I feel guilty about leading her on like I did, I don't want anyone to see her, and I especially don't want my Mother to find her in our backyard. I sneak into the back of the bakery and am relieved that my Mom and Dad aren't home. It's just Ry who's watching the ovens, and my oldest brother Kevin in the front.
"Where have you been?" Ry asks.
"None of your business," I reply. I go straight into the front and find two loafs of day old bread. It's less expensive than the fresh stuff, but it's still perfectly fine and just as filling.
"Hey, what are you doing with that?" Kevin asks me. I'm not supposed to be taking bread from our shop at all.
"It's nothing okay? I'm just buying some bread." I toss a few coins on the counter to pay for it, even though it's all the money I have right now. Kevin raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't push the subject.
I walk back into the back where Ry is and grab a bag. "You're going to be in trouble you know," he says. "Mom was so pissed when you didn't come straight home from school to help us in the bakery. Why didn't you come straight home from school? You better not be leaving either or you're really going to get it! What are you doing with that bread anyway?"
"I told you, it's none of your business!" Ry can really get on my nerves. It's not like mom can really hit me anymore, and I've learned to tune out her yelling. I head straight for the refrigerator and see that we have several bottles of milk.
"Now what are you doing?" Ry demands. Seriously, he won't stop demanding questions. I check the milk over, making sure I get one of the cheaper goat's milk bottles then I take it out of the fridge.
"Hey! You can't take a bottle of milk! What's mom going to say if she sees it missing?" Ry shouts at me.
"Your one to talk," I retort, "you sneak sips all the time!"
That shuts him up long enough for me to get out the door with the two loaves of bread and the bottle of milk. Lark is still standing on the alley by the butcher shop. I hand the bottle of milk and the bag of bread to her.
"What's this?" she asks. She still looks confused, and now she's looking like she's about to cry. She looks in the bag and she gets a look of shock in her eyes. "I can't accept this!" she sputters as she tries to hand me back the bag.
"No," I say, "take it."
"But I…"
"Hey," I say, "It's not charity, okay? It's just my way of apologizing."
"For what?"
"For leading you on."
She looks at me with her sparkling grey eyes, now filled with tears. "You weren't leading me on. I was…"
"I'm sorry I'm can't be the person you thought I was."
"It makes me feel dirty...taking this food from you" she admits.
I don't know what to say back. I look at her, awkwardly holding the bag I gave her, so unsure of what to do with herself. "My mother might be back any moment. You don't want to meet her. Trust me!" I turn around and walk back to the bakery.