Chapter 2: French a Stranger

The Third Quarter Quell is a predictable loss for District 12. Fast forward a year later, and it is a regular Games... and my last Reaping.

For most 18-year-olds, surviving their last Reaping is extra special, particularly for the girls. For if one has a boyfriend, he will often kneel before you and ask you to marry him as soon as the Reaping is over.

It's not like anyone will do that for me, though. And I have for a long time had no plans to marry. Besides, who would have me? Prim is the real beauty of the Everdeen family.

Two years ago, however, I had thought my best friend, Gale Hawthorne, might ask me after his last Reaping. It would have been cute on his part, and not unheard of - many marriages today, especially in the Seam, are based on two people who are only platonic friends. There is an expectation in Twelve that everyone should be married, and those that aren't - like my widowed mother and Gale's mother, Hazelle - are an exception to the rule. Even some widows remarry eventually, though Mother never has. But, anyway, no proposal came from Gale two years ago. So I am preparing myself for him to ask me this year, after my last Reaping.

Unless, of course, I am picked.

But I am not. And neither is Prim. And I don't know the male tribute either. Our new recruits have barely been hustled away when boys begin to kneel before girls with rings en masse and pop the question.

Looking across the expanse, I can see Gale kneel before Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter who has always had a crush on him and she happily accepts. I smile sadly at the sight. Oh, well...

Just then, I feel a tug on my shoulder. I expect it to be Prim, telling me we need to go. But instead, it is Peeta Mellark.

Peeta Mellark is the youngest of the baker's three sons. He's a Merchant, and we are classmates in school, though we don't know each other well at all. We only interacted once and it was years ago. He is on the wrestling team. Muscular build. Blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

My stare of confusion turns into one of astonishment as Peeta Mellark suddenly kneels before me and pulls out a ring.

"Katniss... I know we don't really know each other... but I have been in love with you since we were five years old. Would you marry me?"

I ogle at him in disbelief. A complete stranger has just asked me for my hand in marriage! I should laugh at Peeta for his gall.

But, actually, I admire him for his chutzpah. All the more so that he is asking for marriage from a young Seam woman, across class lines, which is still largely frowned upon in this district. Besides, he leads a worthy profession. Strong. Good with his hands. And kind.

So, I make a split second decision. I suddenly grab Peeta, dip him and firmly press my lips to his. It quickly becomes a heated French kiss, as I slip my tongue in between his lips and massage him there. Peeta, though stiff with surprise at first, quickly relaxes into my impulsive kiss and even kisses me back. At last, we break apart. I release him jerkily.

"No children," I whisper in his ear. I will not sacrifice any babies of mine to the Games. I refuse. But I will marry him. As a thank you for saving my life with bread when I was starving. I owe him. And Seam folk always feel strongly about being indebted to someone.


A few weeks later, I don my mother's wedding dress. Peeta arrives at our Seam home in a suit. Kneeling beside the fireplace, the two of us share a kiss after we toast the bread and share it. My family and the Hawthornes (Peeta's family is not present, sadly) cheer our union.

And I party with my new husband long into the night.