Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All of the characters belong to Suzanne Collins.


"Katniss, it's time to get up!"

Prim. I hear her, but I choose to ignore her for a couple more seconds. My bed wants me to stay.

"Katniss, we're going to be late!"

Ugh. I throw off my covers. I feel the cool September air coming in from my window and shiver. I walk to the bathroom that connects my room and Prim's. I can see that Prim has been here already, and that she probably put on too much makeup. Judging by the state of the sink, she couldn't decide on what color of eyeshadow she wanted to wear. I've told her multiple times that she is beautiful without it, but every time I do she rolls her eyes and scoffs. I've never used makeup. It seems so impractical.

I quickly braid my hair and brush my teeth. I walk back into my room and try to decide what to wear. It's the first day of my junior year. They say you should dress to impress. I say that's bullshit.

I throw off my pajamas and put on the pair of jeans I wore yesterday. I find a green shirt in my dresser. This will do.

As I walk down the steps, I hear Prim arguing with my mother. "Mom, this is how all of the girls look!"

"Please, take off some of the eyeshadow. You're only 12. It's just too much."

Prim doesn't put up much of a fight. As Prim exits the kitchen and passes me in the hallway, I see my mother was right. Prim reaches the stairs as I turn into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Katniss," she says.

"Morning."

I grab an apple from a bowl on the counter and retrieve my backpack from the kitchen table.

"Are you excited for your first day back?" she asks. She wears a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Ecstatic," I say sarcastically, walking back to the hallway. Prim is making her way down the steps as I walk toward the door. I slip on my father's leather jacket, and try to breath in the scent. It's not as strong as it used to be. My mother bids us goodbye as Prim and I walk out the door. I ignore her.

"Katniss, do I look okay?" Prim asks as we walk down the sidewalk.

I look at her, and I must admit that it was an improvement. I nod and say, "Yes. Much better."

She smiles. "Were you nervous on your first day of middle school?"

"Of course, but it will be okay. Trust me." I decide not to tell her about the hell that awaits her. Middle school was probably the worst time of my life. There is so much pressure to fit in and be like everyone else. Everyone is so critical. Evil. Not to mention, my father died when I was in middle school. They definitely aren't my fondest memories.

She sighs and nods. I stop her so that I can pull her into my arms. We embrace for a few moments. "You look beautiful."

"I wish I looked more like you."

I smile, "Well, I wish I looked more like you, little duck." I let her go, and we continue to the bus stop holding hands.


High school. The best years of your life. I try to make my way to my locker while everyone chats with their friends in the middle of the hallway. I push through, occasionally excusing myself for walking through a group. It smells like body odor and cheap cologne. When I finally get to my locker and open it, someone reaches around me and slams the locker shut.

I whip around with a scowl and find my best friend, Gale Hawthorne. "Damn you, Gale!"

"Sorry, Catnip. I couldn't help myself. You looked like you were in such a bright mood this morning, I thought you would enjoy my little joke."

He's right. I guess I could try and look slightly personable. I probably wasn't smiling when I walked down the hallway. I definitely didn't bother to acknowledge anyone. I reopen my locker and hang up my father's jacket. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and look back at Gale.

"I can't wait to get out of here," he says. Gale is a senior this year. Lucky him. "One thing I will definitely miss is staring at Madge Undersee's ass in that pair of jeans." He points her out across the hall. She is standing in front of her locker with her back to us. A group of her friends crowd around her, laughing hysterically. I wonder who the victim of their torture is today.

"Wow, Gale. Your taste is impeccable. She is definitely the most beautiful, the most elegant, the most unpleasant person you could find."

"Hey, she's not that bad. There are worse people here." I have to agree with that. I nudge him in the ribs and tell him that I will see him later.


My first class of the day is Anatomy & Physiology. This is probably my favorite class. The human body is the most fascinating and disgusting thing all at once. I guess this is a good enough reason to make it to school on time.

I make my way to the back row and choose a table. I prefer not to sit with anyone. It makes it easier to focus. As the beginning of first period draws near, I notice that the class is filling up quickly. It will be a miracle if I get to sit by myself.

I get out my notebook and reach in my bag to find a pencil. I sense movement beside me. Damn it. I guess I will have to deal. I grab the pencil in the bottom of my bag, and look up to see who I have the "pleasure" of sitting next to.

He turns to me and smiles. Peeta Mellark.

"Hi, Katniss," he says, still giving me a toothy smile. His blonde hair is perfectly trim. He is wearing jeans and a blue, button down shirt that brings out the color of his eyes. He smells like cinnamon.

I stare at him, perhaps for too long, but his warm, genuine smile never falters. It makes me angry, but I also find it comforting. I remember that, typically, humans respond when they are spoken to.

"Hi," I say. He doesn't further engage me in conversation and I am appreciative. He looks to the front of the classroom, still smiling, just as Mr. Abernathy walks to the front. The bell rings.

"Hello, class. Welcome to the first day of what I'm sure is going to be another fantastic year. I hope you all had a great summer. Just so you know, I, like you, wish I wasn't here, so we are going to keep it simple today. This semester, you and a partner will be responsible for presenting a project."

Oh, great. Here we go.

"This project can be about any physical disease you can think of: Diabetes, Parkinson's Disease, MS, anything you want. You are responsible for presenting this disease to the class and typing up a report. Now, everybody look to the person sitting next to you."

I glance at Peeta, he glances back.

"This is your partner, and you are not allowed to switch. Give me a sheet with your name and your partner's name with your topic by the end of class. Have at it, kids." Mr. Abernathy makes his way around his desk. I notice that he opens his bottom drawer and takes a swig out of a flask. I turn back to Peeta. He has his hand held out to me.

"Nice to meet you, partner," he says, smirking at me.

I try my best to look pleasant and keep from frowning. I take his hand and shake it quickly. He seems pleased.

"So what would you like to do? Do you have an interest in anything in particular?" he asks.

I sit and try to come up with something. I hate group projects more than anything. I would much rather do it myself. In the past, I've had to suffer through some of the worst partners. I'm always stuck with all of the work.

"Look, I'm not so good at this partner thing. Maybe we should ask Mr. Abernathy if we can do one individually." I see his smile beginning to fade.

"Katniss, I don't know what kind of partners you have had in the past, but trust me. I'm not going to leave you with the work. Give me a chance."

Mr. Abernathy clears his throat from the front of the class. I look up and see a couple of girls glaring at each other next to Mr. Abernathy's desk. "No, you may not work alone either. Deal with it. It's part of growing up," Mr. Abernathy tells the class.

"Well, it looks like you're stuck with me," Peeta chuckles.

I guess so. Even though I am still skeptical, I have a feeling that this can work out somehow. I don't know Peeta that well, but I do know that he cares about his grades. He has to if he wants to participate in his extracurriculars (nearly all that the school offers).

"Alright, so what do you want to do, Katniss?"

I look down at the floor. I hope he doesn't think my idea is stupid.

"How about psoriasis?"

He looks surprised. "Huh. I thought you might have chosen something really off the wall and strange." Why would he think that? Is that how I come across to people?

"Not a lot of people know about it, really. There's a lot to write about and a lot of nasty pictures to present."

"Nasty pictures?! You sold me," Peeta says. I can't help but smile.

After some thought, I decide that there are much worse partners that I could have. Peeta is charismatic. I know that he is great at talking to people, which is not my strongest quality. That alone may come in handy for this particular project.

I watch as Peeta takes my notebook and jots our names down on the first empty page. His handwriting is incredible. He must have taken a course in calligraphy. He writes "Psoriasis" under our names and walks the paper to the front of the class. He hands it to Mr. Abernathy, and Mr. Abernathy nods indicating that it is an acceptable topic.

Peeta walks back, still wearing that smile. I almost smile back.

"We should work out a time to meet. Would you like to meet at the bakery this afternoon?" he asks.

"Your bakery?"

"Yes," he laughs, "That way we can make a plan and decide who does what."

"I have to make sure my sister gets home first, but I can come by after that."

"Great," he says as the bell rings, "I look forward to it."

He gets up from his chair. I smell cinnamon again. "I'll see you later, Katniss."

I wave goodbye. As I get up to leave, I realize I am looking forward to it.