Once, years ago, when I had only just turned thirteen, I was walking through the Hob, as usual. My friendship with Gale had only just started to blossom, so that day, I walked alone.
It was a balmy summer day, and I remember thinking that I was getting too hot in my long pants and boots. Prim had been sick with a fever for days, and my mother had been especially busy during the last few weeks. I was tired and hot and grumpy, and most of all, hungry.
I was thinking about how good a cold glass of water would taste at that moment when I felt a lump under my boot. I stopped for a moment, not quite sure what to think. I carefully stepped back, revealing the shiny surface of a small bag of coins. I picked it up out of the dirt, looking through the bag. I held more money than I had ever seen before. I couldn't believe it.
Someone had been foolish enough to drop this bag on their way through town, most likely being trampled on my unknowing citizens. It was my light step and my eager sense for thrill that made me realize what was under my boot that day. I couldn't fathom my excitement.
And that's when I felt a strange feeling, like excitement, but even greater. Things had been going so poorly lately, and this, this seemed like a miracle. Of course, once I became a more skilled hunter, I would eventually start bringing money home every evening, but at the time, it was more than I could have ever wished for.
I shoved the bag into my pocket, thinking only for a moment of turning it in. I knew that there was no one real to even submit it to, and trying would be foolish. A large smile spread across my face as I thought of how excited my mother and Prim would be when they heard of my great luck.
When I look back, I am not sure why I was so excited. Was it because I was simply overjoyed at the thought of all that money, or because of how badly things had been going in my life? I want to think that it was a combination of both, but I can't be sure. All I know is that I felt so happy.
And that is how I feel now. Like things in my life have been foggy and uncertain, and now on this warm spring day, here he is. I have only been trying to find him.
At first, I am not sure what to say. I know it is silly to be so excited to see the person I live only a few houses down from, but I can't conceal it. Am I crazy to miss someone who's been right there the whole time? We have distanced so greatly over the past year. I am smiling, and possible even blushing, because before I can answer Peeta's question, he is laughing.
"What's so funny?" He asks, rocking on his heals, smiling. I am not sure exactly how to respond, because really, I am not laughing. I am genuinely happy to see his face.
"Nothing, not really. I guess I just feel...good today." I say, a half smile splitting up my cheek. But, he only rolls his eyes, watching the chaos in the square as people sign up for the event.
"What exactly is going on?" I ask, looking towards the sign-up area. Plutarch has most likely been trying to call me about this, but I don't even try to pick up the phone unless I am interested in making a call.
"Haven't you heard the details?" Peeta asks, in an uncanny resemblance to a Capitol citizen. I laugh, shaking my head.
"A celebration of our new found independence! A gathering of every District, brought together in the spirit of Panem!" Peeta exclaims, raising his hand in the air. Now I am really laughing, watching him perform like this. I haven't laughed like this in a long time, and I must be getting some odd looks, but I don't really mind. All I know is how good it feels.
"You've always been easy to cheer up." Peeta says, rolling his eyes, but I don't really notice. At a different time, in a different place, I might take that in the wrong way, but now, when I feel so good in the warm sunlight, I don't mind. I watch him when he turns his head away, how his jaw relaxes, how his shaggy hair falls, wondering if he ever notices anything like that about me.
We stand there for a moment, watching as children and adults alike mill about. I think to myself how much better everyone here looks now. Fuller, stronger, happier. Like real people, with a real home. I'm glad, even if it took so much to get here. Maybe one day living in District Twelve won't be so bad.
Peeta interrupts my thoughts when he gently clears his throat, and I look over at him, seeing a troubled look on his face. I'm suddenly worried, and I feel that excitement draining.
"Katniss, I'm sorry, about the other day." He says, his jaw locking.
I'm not sure how to respond. At first, I want to say that it is fine, no big deal. And really, it's what I am thinking. But then, I think about how much I owe him. What I talked about with Haymitch, what I have been thinking about. Peeta has never done anything wrong to me, he should not be apologizing. It is me who should be saying sorry. All of this time, he has only been doing what is right, and I stood to the side, watching.
I try to take a breath, feeling the air pass through my shaky throat.
"You don't owe me any apologies." I say, biting my lip. I close my eyes for a moment, my chin dropping under the weight of my head. I think for a second that he might have walked away, but then, I feel his warm hand under my chin, lifting my face up. I am startled at this sudden action, and I feel a flutter in my stomach. My breath catches, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"You're right," He says, nodding head ever so gently, he hand sliding to my shoulder. For a moment, I think that I might feel resent at this comment, but then he reaches for my hand with his other hand.
"I owe you so much more." And when he says it, I am afraid that I might start crying. I don't know why, maybe because I know its not true, or because of the guilt I feel, but all I can do is squeeze his hand. In a moment, he is slowly moving his body into mine. I am not sure exactly what is happening, but I seem to forget the world around us. I feel his steady chest rising up and down, and it is calming.
"Peeta..." I murmur, and for a second, I am afraid he might lose it. His hands begin shaking lightly, he neck tightening as he bites down. But, he squeezes my hand, and opens his eyes again.
I don't want to pull away from him, but I know that we are beginning to attract a small crowd. When he lets go, I am aching for him to come back.
He leans in for a quick second, taking in a breath.
"I miss you," He whispers, and I am afraid that now, I might really start crying. All of this emotion, hitting me now, here, it is too much for my fragile state.
When I don't respond, he quickly adds to his first statement.
"Let's go somewhere," He says, and when he grabs my hand and pulls me away, I don't resist.
