Chapter 4: Someone Else's Needs Before Yours

However awkwardly adorable and unorthodox Vick's kiss may have been, there must have been some good luck on his lips, for I actually am not picked in my first Reaping. A fifteen-year-old Seam boy and – in a stunning turn of events – the 18-year-old daughter of the Merchant ice cream parlor owner are drafted for the 70th Annual Hunger Games. Merchant kids getting Reaped is rare, but this time was cause for smug satisfaction amongst the Seam crowd.

Haymitch and his two charges have been in the Capitol for the past couple of days. We all stood in the Sqaure to watch the tribute interviews last night. Troy and Roseanna, our two tributes, did as well as they could, but the real stand-out was the 18-year-old girl from Four, haloed with flaming red hair and looking stunning in her dress. In terms of beauty, she reminds me of Delly…. except Delly doesn't answer questions in a deadly manner while sporting a girl-next-door sweet smile.

I had to do some grocery shopping this morning, so we'll have enough basic amenities to eat while watching the Games. Since Primrose was up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I brought her along to let Mother sleep in before we all have to be in the Square at 10 AM for the start of the Games. As we cross through Town and pass by the Bakery, we briefly detour when Primrose drags me over to the display windows so we can oooh and aahhh over the cakes. I can't help but stare at the intricate designs created by the frosting and icing. It is clearly the handiwork of a master craftsman…. I wonder which one of the Baker's sons does it? Leven, perhaps? He's always appeared level-headed and disciplined, the few times I've seen him in passing. Or maybe the Baker himself frosts these delights – a reflection of what a kind man he is.

"These are amazing…." I breathe out.

"You really think so?" Prim and I both jump and look to find Peeta leaning in the doorway of the bakery. I didn't even hear him approach, much less detect the bell tinkling that always signals the comings and goings of the Mellarks' customers.

"Peeta! You scared me!" I clap a hand to my heart, laughing a little.

He grins sheepishly. "Sorry. I saw Prim coming through the window, and thought I'd pop out and say hello." Peering at me, his eyes dance with mirth. "Nice to know you stop by here for something other than dealing in squirrel."

I frown a little in offense, bristling. Doesn't he understand I've had to trade squirrel overtime with his family to….? I must be displaying the expression on my face a little too well, for I still when I feel a gentle hand on my arm. Gazing up at him, Peeta's eyes are just as soft, if also a little apologetic.

"Katty: relax. I understand….." And I can tell, peering into his deep, blue eyes, that he does understand – the debt I feel I owe him.

He says something else, almost too softly so that I nearly miss it. "While I appreciate it…. you don't owe me anything."

I swallow hard. "Yes, I do…." I whisper. We stay frozen like that for a moment, Prim glancing curiously between the pair of us.

Peeta finally, mercifully changes the subject. "So: a little birdie told me you got a Reaping Kiss after all." The muscles in his face are yanking his mouth up into a smile. "And…. from a six-year-old, no less!" That's all Peeta can get out before he bursts into laughter.

I gawk at him, scoffing and placing my hands on my hips, even while I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment. "It's not funny!" I sound like a six-year-old as I whine, stamping my foot petulantly.

"Can…. can I ask when the Toasting is, or does he need to propose first?" Peeta hoots loudly, face alive with mirth. My face scrunches up in a scowl.

"Oooooh…. You're no fun at all!" Though I'm finding it hard not to laugh myself. Whether discussed facetiously or not, you can't help but smile when you think of a Toasting. The traditional District 12 marriage ceremony is sacred – even though the law says a man and woman are married after signing notaries at the Justice Building, no one here, be you Merchant or Seam, feels truly wed without toasting a bit of bread over the hearth and sharing it, feeding it to each other.

Peeta shakes his head, acrtually wiping a jovial tear from his eye. "Oh, Katty… I was only teasing."

I keep my scowl on my face, though it's weak. "I know."

"Ready to watch the Games?" Peeta asks gently.

I shrug. "Do we have a choice?"

"Not really. Hey, why don't you watch with me? It's easier watching with a friend; I'll find you in the Sqaure."

"Can I come too?" Prim tugs on Peeta's shirtsleeve. My stomach roils at her enthusiasm, as though going to watch a fight to the death is actually fun. Prim still isn't quite old enough to understand yet, but she'll learn.

He grins down at my sister sweetly. "Sure thing, Prim."

"Peeta!" The sharp shriek makes us all spin around, to find the Witch standing just inside the doorway of the Bakery, hands on her hips and with a rolling pin braced against one. "Come away from those urchins now – there's work to be done!"

Peeta nods heavily. "Yes, ma'am." As soon as his mother turns her back, he whispers to me, "I'm sorry about that…."

"It's fine," I dismiss. "And… yes, I'd love to watch the Games with you."

Peeta seems to turn pink at this, but grins dazzlingly. "It's a date." And he hustles back inside, leaving me wondering… a date? Did he mean that the way I thought he meant it?

The arena for the 70th Annual Hunger Games is set against a vast lake, topped off by a sloping mountain on which the tributes are launched via their pedestals. Far below, dotting the lake's shoreline are the ruins of hundreds of lake cottage homes. To the west, is an imposing, marble dam.

When the tributes dash for the supplies, Troy and Roseanna don't stand much of a chance. The Careers – the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 who win almost every year – make the District 12 kids some of their first kills. Kills for sport, as the alliance works to secure the horn and much of the loot.

The fiercely beautiful girl from District 4 quickly establishes herself as one of the leaders, viciously stabbing the boy from Seven through the throat with the prongs of her trident. Leonardo, the boy from 2, anoints himself as Pack Leader, but makes the Four girl – Annie Cresta – his second-in-command.

Six tributes go down in the Bloodbath, and the Careers are just starting to relax when there is noise from out-of-frame, then a battle cry.

The large and hulking boy from District 10 is ballsy enough to attempt to attack the entire Career pack all by himself. The 18-year-old is humongous, and it takes every single Career to surround and bring him down. The boy's death cries are chilling. Annie Cresta gleefully joins the fray and stabs her trident prongs into the tribute's gut.

BOOM. The cannon fires, its echo reverberating through the speakers. Make that seven tributes dead.

Standing by Peeta's side in the Sqaure, I let out a little gasp of fear and, almost without meaning to, reach down to clutch at his hand. Looking at each other, we both flush furiously and promptly drop the connection, bristling as we try to concentrate back on the screens.

"Come on, Katty! Come on! We have to get good seats!"

I'll say this about being friends with Madge Undersee – she certainly knows how to help you keep to a schedule. And there's never been a more enthusiastic, rah-rah supporter of school activities than her, which has subsequently led me to display more extracurricular participation and enthusiasm this year than in all my educational years previous.

I used to never follow the school sports season, fall or spring, until Peeta told me just after the start of term that he intended to try out for his weight class on the wrestling team. 12 is the youngest age you can be considered, and I try not to think about how this may be coincident to Reaping eligibility. After all, wrestling is a useful skill to have in the arena.

On this cold and rainy fall afternoon, the gymnasium is packed and noisy, kids our age acting out raucously in the bleachers. The prime seats in the first few rows are already taken, so Madge takes my hand and guides me higher up the stands.

"We'll probably get an even better view from up here anyway." She points to the scoreboard. "See that? For the wrestling matches, the HOME and AWAY scores flash the last names of the two competitors." She peers at me in a way that is almost teasing. "We'll know when Peeta comes out…."

I feel my cheeks burn. I don't know what Madge thinks is going on. It was harder to talk with Peeta this past summer, since the Games. Whenever I've gone to trade squirrel at the back loading dock door, the Witch has suddenly made a point of conducting most of the trades herself. As a result, the bread's not as nice as the ones the Baker always offers when I deal with him. I didn't get to see Peeta for weeks after Annie Cresta was crowned Victor in a tragic ending, not until school let back in. Now, we eat lunch with Madge and Delly every day. Recently, Gale Hawthorne has taken to joining us, as we finally share the same lunch period.

Magde is still studying me curiously, and I quickly change the subject. "You said their last names will flash up? Peeta's brother could come out first!"

"You'll know when it's Peeta. Rye tends to do a lot of showboating," Madge smirks. "I've heard some of the guys say Peeta has taken to wrestling like a hog to slop."

That might be true, but we're still only twelve, and being that young, Peeta will probably be in the smallest weight class…. I bite my lip in concern.

Finding some empty spaces on the bleachers, Madge and I sit down, the Mayor's daughter eagerly grabbing my arm. "Isn't this exciting, Katty?"

I smile weakly, halfheartedly ruing the day that Madge overheard Peeta calling me 'Katty.' The pet name is something I've only ever allowed from him and Prim (on our hunts, Gale has taken to sticking me with the more amusing nickname Catnip. At least, it's amusing to him). Anyway, when Madge heard my pet name is 'Katty,' she immediately made a habit of calling me that as well. I don't really mind – other than Delly Cartwright, Madge is still the only girlfriend I have, and we've taken to spending a lot of time together after school hours…. especially now that, come the final ringing of the bell, I haven't been able to see as much of Peeta. Sometimes, Prim will walk home with the Hawthornes while I stop by the mayoral residence in the Justice Building after school, spending an hour or two listening to Madge play the piano.

Scanning the crowd, I spot a solitary figure seated up in one corner at the height of the bleachers, and frown. "Madge? What is Haymitch Abernathy doing here?"

The corner is slightly darkened, but I can still clearly make out Haymitch, predictably taking a slug from his flask.

"Oh, Haymitch likes to sit in at most of the sporting events. Coach Gintis, the wrestling coach? – he calls it 'scouting'. For the Games."

I gape at her in horror and revulsion. "But Victors don't have any say over who comes out of the Reaping Bowl!"

Madge shrugs. "Doesn't stop them from scouting for talent. Daddy says the Victors in the Career districts do it all the time."

I take one more glance back at the drunk. Even if he does perform some scouting for fresh blood, strong tributes who might make a go at the Victors' Crown, his skills in this area must not be great, as he has failed to bring home a single winner for as long as I've been alive and even before.

There is a roar from further down below, and Madge suddenly clutches my arm. "Oh, Katty, look! Peeta is up!"

My heart pitters and stutters weirdly as I can see the small speck that is my dear friend, coming into the ring. His opponent looks to be at least his size, maybe even one-and-a-half times his size. And apparently, Peeta and this kid are the same age, in the same weight class!

The referee stands between the boys. "Ready….. set… FIGHT!"

Peeta and his opponent ram together, the opponent flipping my friend over his head. Peeta hits the mat hard, and there are groans. Now I'm the one clutching at Madge's arm, biting my lip in fear.

Peeta quickly gets up and launches himself at his opponent from behind. I am biting my lip so hard now, I am drawing a bead of blood. Beside me, Madge has to nearly scream in my ear:

"Katty…. KATNISS! OW! Let go!"

"Oh….. S-sorry," I stammer, releasing her arm from where I was probably cutting off her circulation.

She just grins at me. "It's OK to be nervous, you know."

As we watch, Peeta actually manages to pin an opponent who's bigger than him. The crowd begins to chant. "8….. 9….. 10!"

"WINNNER!" The ref nudges both boys apart and lifts Peeta's fist triumphantly on high. Madge and I actually applaud with gusto and I even whoop happily, beaming down at Peeta with pride.

Back and forth all afternoon it goes on like this. Peeta actually wins his weight class…. then he starts winning against bigger, older kids in other weight classes. People are by now chanting his name. Finally, the scoreboard flashes the last name MELLARK on either side as we come down to two finalists: Peeta against his older brother, Rye, a year ahead of him.

The ref gives the signal for the two brothers to do battle. "Ready….. set… FIGHT!"

The match is long and drawn out, with neither brother giving an inch. Until, finally, Rye pins Peeta in a chokehold and keeps him there. Peeta struggles bravely, but he can't get loose.

I tremble. "I can't watch…." And I bury my face into Madge's shoulder. The crowd chants bloodthirstily.

"8!…9!…. 10!"

"Game, set, match!" The ref hollers, and he lifts Rye's fists on high. "Winner! : Rye Mellark! Runner-up: Peeta Mellark! New record!"

Second place! Peeta got second place in all the weight classes! More than that, he broke a school record – the youngest person to get runner-up in school history!

Madge and I are squealing and jumping up and down. We stop abruptly, staring at each other, and then start squealing again and hugging.

"Katty?" She draws back, studying me with bemusement. "What's gotten into you?"

All I can lamely say is, "Nothing. Just…. it's the heat."

I can manage to sit through a sports match just fine, especially if it's wrestling and Peeta is competing. But when Madge somehow talks me into attending the Harvest Festival dance, I try too late to put my foot down.

A wrap drawn around my shoulders, I stomp out into the chilly winter air with a scowl on my face. The hem of my blue Reaping dress is swishing at my ankles. "I'm not built for gowns!" I huff petulantly.

"But you look beautiful, Katty!" Madge gushes when she sees me.

"You're sweet," I dismiss. At least she's all right as my date. If I had wanted to go with anyone, I, of course, would have wanted to go with Peeta, but Delly Cartwright had already asked him. I couldn't help but feel incensed, but had to appreciate Peeta honoring the request. Delly asked him first. Besides, it's not like I was wanting to ask Peeta anyway….. right? Gale had actually asked me, which left me deeply confused, as he's a full two years older than me! He probably meant it as a joke. When Madge finally enticed me into attending ("two stag girls going together is better than one all alone!"), I agreed, though hesitantly.

I've never been one for dances – not even the one held every year in honor of the Harvest Festival. Traditionally, the Harvest Festival dance is held the night after the Victor of last summer's Hunger Games passes through Twelve on his/her Victory Tour. This year was a bit of a downer, watching the poor, mad Annie Cresta who only won after an entire dam broke in the arena recite a yawn of a speech. Madge tragically had a front row seat for it, being the Mayor's daughter and all.

We enter the Hob to find the party in full swing, vendor stands pushed to the side and lights strung up from the rafters of the repurposed warehouse. Looped arm-in-arm, Madge and I nervously edge out onto the dance floor, amidst the crowd.

"Want to dance?" Madge looks at me askance, clearly feeling as nervous as I am. Well, good – we can be nervous together.

"You actually got her to come." We both turn to see Gale eyeing us both with amusement. He nods to Madge with respect. "Props to you, Undersee."

"T-thank you," Madge stutters through the word, and I glance to her, frowning. Madge almost never gets flustered.

"You want to step over and get a drink?"

"I'm fine," Madge says a little too quickly.

"Katniss! Madge!"

We both turn again, Gale now looking over my shoulder and frowning deeply as Peeta comes jogging up. My best friend is beaming, eyes only for me, and suddenly I'm very, very glad that Madge practically browbeat me into coming here with her.

Peeta's hair is combed back neatly, and he looks quite striking in a pressed shirt and slacks.

"Hi…. Peeta," I get out nervously.

I resist the urge to shiver happily at how Peeta is appraising me up and down. "You look lovely. Always have in blue."

Behind me, I can practically feel Gale glowering at Peeta, which makes me bristle in annoyance, even as I smile shyly at the handsome lad standing before me. "It's just my Reaping dress."

"I like it," Peeta chuckles.

A small silence, and then:

"Would you like to dance?"

The question echoes oddly, and I realize that both Peeta and Gale asked at the exact same time. I look between them with confusion, my eyes resting on Gale. "You talking to me?"

Gale rolls his eyes a little, smirking. "What are you, a drunk Haymitch Abernathy? Yes, I'm asking you…."

"Actually, Hawthorne, why don't you and I go for a spin?" Madge suddenly blasts out, lurching forward to take Gale's waist while practically pushing me into Peeta with her free hand. My taken-aback hunting partner can do nothing but acquiesce, and he and the Mayor's daughter spin away, leaving Peeta and I to gaze at each other before glancing away shyly.

"Well….. we mustn't disappoint the Mayor's daughter now, can we?" Peeta finally gets out.

Gazing into his sky-blue eyes, I feel my entire chest flush. "No. Indeed not."

Peeta takes me in his arms, and I rest one palm on his shoulder as a slow song begins to play. Gently, we begin an awkward yet passable waltz. We stare at each other wordlessly, frozen in each other's irises. Gulping, my throat feels dry until I feel Peeta lean in close and whisper:

"Snow, I've missed you."

Something like a squeak escapes me at the…. huskiness in his voice. Still, I have to admit…. "I've missed you too." Before long, I am light-headed enough that I allow myself to sag against him, resting my head on his shoulder and we sway almost in place. "Where have you been?"

"Extra hours at the bakery. Mom's been in rare form." I look up into his face, gaze into his eyes.

"You shouldn't let her get to you, Peeta. You're too good a person – always have been, in spite of her."

A pause, and then –

He smiles wondrously, and I feel everything become all right with the world. "Thank you, Katniss."

At some point, we've swayed to a halt, and I am only vaguely aware of how my one hand which had been resting on his chest has migrated to loop up around his neck. Peeta slides closer, tilting his head, and my eyes dart to his lips….

I glance back up into his face to notice Peeta shifting his head, as he spies something from over my shoulder. I twist in his arms, turning my head to follow his gaze. "What is it….?"

He winces. "Speak of the devil – she's coming over."

"What's she doing at a teenager's party?"

"Chaperone. To make sure we're dancing with the right people." He states this bitterly, squeezing my hand.

I whimper, suddenly not wanting this moment to end. "But…."

"Meet me out back by the Justice Building service door later? I'll walk you home."

Though the question takes me aback (I've never had a boy ask to walk me home before), I nod quickly; I'll have to drop Madge off anyway. Peeta grins, winking at before he melts back into the crowd.

I stand there frozen, head spinning a little. Perhaps I got dizzy from all the dancing. Wait…. what did I just agree to? And why does it make me all a-flutter with anticipation?

My emotional confusion only makes my heart clench all the harder when, after waiting under the service door of the Justice Building for over an hour upon dropping Madge off, I have no choice but to walk home alone, the winter's chill freezing the teardrops to my cheeks.