The sun is just starting to rise as I turn the last page of my book, and I shift my eyes to scope the streets of the District. The hover crafts are retreating now, shells set in place with their operators and the large screen set up in the town square next to the stage. I shake my head; I hated everything about the Reaping Day, especially what came after the names were called. The celebration, the forced celebration, of losing two District citizens to the Capitol and having to watch them fight for their lives in the sick game of our government…I spent a majority of the festivities using the restroom due to stomach troubles. I set the worn piece of literature to the side and grab my needlepoint, it's one of the only things I still enjoy doing. Now that I'm no longer a child, it's become harder to seek out the amusement in things although I have several spoils that many others do not have. I have a piano and a Capitol quality television but the piano would be too loud and this hour and television wasn't something I had ever enjoyed. I let out a soft sigh, resting my back against the wall of my window seat.
There's movement and a small smile comes to play on my face. It's Katniss with her hunting gear escaping through the broken fence. That was a comfort sign to me; it was a bit of normality on such a depressing day. I know that it wouldn't stop the names from being drawn but seeing Katniss sneak out once more just reminded me that I couldn't let what was coming affect my daily life too much. I hoped that I could do that, though I know I'm not strong enough unlike her. I admire the Everdeen female, though my parents don't care too much for her due to her class ranking. Katniss was strong willed and fearless, I was fragile and held my tongue too often. I desired to change, but I knew better. I wouldn't achieve anything by voicing my opinion except for potentially being disowned by my family. She's disappeared now and my smile fades as I return to my thread pattern.
I have three older brothers, and one older sister. All of which are now safe from the Reaping, my youngest brother had turned nineteen the previous week and his one slip of paper had been removed as a gift from the Capitol. More of from the law; I still believe if it had no age limit, they would have the elderly in the bowl just so they would have more pieces to play. The Capitol showed no mercy except for on themselves. Capitol citizens were sheltered, I knew it, and everyone else knew it. Except for the citizens. While they paraded around in their obnoxious outfits, wasting money left and right on ridiculous surgeries, and consumed more food in a day than most District families did in a week, the Districts were working nearly to death producing products for them to abuse. I never understood it, we were the country's people; the foundation. So why were we mistreated? But my thoughts didn't matter. I was just the youngest daughter of the richest man in District 12 who got ill too easily and couldn't be in the sun too long because my health didn't permit it. I was nothing of importance, so I always thought it was better if I was the female reaped so another girl didn't have to part from her family, friends, and possibly a lover. I didn't have any of those…that was a lie. I had a family, but I felt distant from them no matter how much we spoke and spent time together. We were just different. I had friends, but none I could spent hours with and not get bored or irritated with. And then, there was Peeta.
Peeta Mellark and I had been enemies in my first memory of him. He had put frosting in my hair when my mother had asked his mother to watch me while she ran some errands with the mayor's wife and I had spit on him in return. We both were put in time out and I had lost time playing with my precious new doll from District 1, so I grew a dislike towards the Mellark boy. It all changed on my fourth birthday when it was made apparent to me that he had helped make my amazing birthday cake with whipped frosting. We played together then, from running through the streets as animals or drawing with crayons my father had purchased for me on his trip to the Capitol to discuss business matters with the Vice President. Our mothers began to tease that we would marry when we were old enough, the rest of the District joined in. It irritated me at first but I learned to ignore it. Until about three years ago when I turned thirteen and the gossip was that Peeta and I were secretly 'together'. I didn't understand why people would say that or fuss over it; there were people starving in the Seam for the Lord's sake. We ignored it together, we were just friends. There was no need to obsess over it. My eyes flash to the bakery owned by Peeta's family and a goofy smile appears on my face as I see the light flick on and his blonde hair is visible through the pastries on display.
He moves towards the door and I quickly return my attention to what I was doing, staging that I hadn't been staring in his direction. Thirty seconds later, I look up with a neutral look playing on my face. Calm and innocent, as if I had been working on my pattern this whole time. Our eyes meet and his smile grows. He has an apron tied around his waist, he's baking. I can tell he's nervous. He beckons me over with a wave of his hand and I nod, setting my needle point down and holding up one finger. I hurry downstairs with light footsteps, sneaking past my snoozing father who had fallen asleep watching a television program the previous night. I hurry across the street, trying not to be spotted. We aren't technically forbidden from being outside before the Reaping but if you're caught, you're sent inside in a rude manner. I enter the bakery and I see him mixing something in a stained bowl with a wooden spoon. Cinnamon tints the air and I know what he's doing. "Cinnamon rolls," I say, closing the distance between us to sit on the unused counter space next to him. "My favorite." He looks at me with a smile, "I know." I can't fight the blush that creeps onto my face. Even though I had complained about the rumors about Peeta and I's relationship, I couldn't deny to myself that I had feelings for him. I hated it though, because I knew he had always had a thing for Katniss. Ever since we were five; I never complained. I respected him and wouldn't try to convince him that I was the better choice and what not.
He rolls the dough and then places them in the warm oven, the heat radiating my bare legs as he pulls the door down and I shiver lightly. He then comes towards me, placing himself between my thighs so he can wrap his arms around me. It was a strange position but I didn't mind. We had done this several times before and the awkwardness had come and gone. "Peeta," I say, chin on his shoulder, "She won't get picked…" He knows who I'm talking about and doesn't respond. "Even if she does, I'll volunteer in her place." He pulls away at this, shaking his head. "No. Absolutely not. You're not going." I want to scream at him that he can't have both Katniss and I but I hold my tongue. It's better that way. I sigh and nod, though I stand by my words. We make small talk then, joking around and telling old stories like we always do until the food is done. Then we eat and talk until Peeta's brother comes downstairs and makes me realize how long I've been gone. He's giving me a noogie when I remember my mother always gets up early to make a giant breakfast on said day. I push him off, giving him a hug before doing the same to Peeta and sprinting across the street. I beat my mother by five minutes. We ate, we talked, and then she was sending me up with my lady's maid to get prepared for the ceremony. I wish the curling iron would've slipped and gave me a life threatening and untreatable burn.
A/N: So, what do you think? It's my first time writing in a long while. This is my second story I've ever actually posted on here and I'd love for reviews. I plan to update this as soon as possible each time a new chapter is up. I think that should be easy since I have most of the story planned out in my head so yeah….
-Emmalee.