Chapter Eleven: Peeta's Confession

"He who wishes to secure the good of others, has already secured his own."

-Confucius

"I'm sorry, Katniss," Prim tells me, looking deflated. "I thought you'd be happy about it. I know I would be. Peeta is so—"

"Peeta is an assuming asshole, just like everyone else."

I continue walking a little more briskly than before. I can't think straight. I don't know what to believe anymore; I've never had to deal with these sorts of things. I know Prim isn't lying, because why would she? Yet… why in the world would Peeta like someone like me? I don't understand it. As much as I hate to even think it, maybe Gale was correct. Maybe Peeta has only been nice to me all along because he's only after one thing….

But that doesn't make sense either. Peeta just doesn't seem the type at all. He's never said one vulgar or sexual word to me, or even hinted at wanting that sort of thing.

No, I don't think Gale is right about this at all.

Peeta is too kind, sweet, and gentle, too genuine, for all of it to be an act. Even if he wanted that sort of thing, there's no shortage of girls who are way prettier than I am at school. There'd be no reason for Peeta to settle for me or waste his time and energy with it, really. Even if I'm wrong, and Peeta does have those sort of intentions toward me, he'd just have to get over it. Contrary to what he believes about me right now, I've never been like that with a guy, and I'm not about to jump into bed with someone I barely know.

"No, he's not!" Prim defends Peeta. "He's really nice and he only has good things to say about you."

"Whatever, Prim. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Drop it."

She does and we don't say anything else for the rest of the walk home.

When we finally get to the trailer, I'm relieved to find the front door unlocked. I open it slowly and walk inside, expecting the worst.

Much to my relief, everything is quiet. I glance down the hall to my mom and Snow's bedroom and notice that they're both fast asleep. He's probably sleeping off his high or has taken some downers.

I release a long breath I'd been holding back as Prim and I tiptoe to our bedroom as quickly and quietly as we can, closing the door behind us. I'm thankful that at least one good thing happened tonight. Not being hurt by Snow is always a pleasant surprise.

The next morning when I arrive at school, my stomach is in knots. I want to explain things to Peeta and need to clear the air as quickly as possible, but I'm not in a rush to talk to him. I don't really know what to say or where to start, and I definitely don't want to have a conversation like this in class where everyone can hear us.

I wait until the very last minute before class begins and then walk in. I don't want to sit by him. I don't know how he feels or what he thinks about me at this point, and I don't know if he'd even want to sit by me, but I don't want to take the chance. I'm not ready for it yet.

I see him as soon as I enter the room; his bright blue eyes meet mine and I glance away just as quickly, making my way to a desk on the opposite side of the room. He looks over at me with a frown. It makes me feel sick to my stomach, because I know exactly what he's probably thinking of me.

Throughout class, I chance quick glances at him. He seems very absorbed in taking class notes. He doesn't look up even once to notice what's going on around him.

When class is over, I practically run out of the room to avoid him. I'm evidently not quick enough, because he catches up to me in the hallway.

Avoiding my eyes, he hands me a folded note. I take it from him but I don't say anything. All he says is, "I'm sorry," then walks away just as quickly as he'd caught up with me.

I stand there for a few moments with the paper in my hand, almost too scared to read it. What was he apologizing for? Last night, or the things he'd written in the note he just handed me?

I find an empty desk in the very back during second hour and finally decide I can't take the suspense any longer. I slowly unfold the paper in my shaking hands - not knowing what to expect, yet bracing myself for horrible things.

But the more I read, the more I feel my anger with Peeta ebb away until it vanishes completely:

Katniss,

I know you're mad at me and you have every right to be. But I'm very sorry for what I said to you last night. It's not any of my business and I shouldn't have stuck my nose in where it didn't belong. That being said, I feel like I should explain my behavior a little.

I know you think I haven't noticed, but I've seen you go through so much over the years and I don't like the idea of someone using or hurting you. You shouldn't be treated that way and I admit that it made me a little angry with that guy (and not with you!), because you deserve nothing less than to be cherished and treated with respect. If it makes you feel good about yourself and it's something mutual that you want then fine, that's great. And like I said, it's none of my business anyway. But please don't ever think that's all there is or that's all you can get, because you are worth so much more and you deserve to be loved. You should never have to feel forced to settle for being used at some guy's convenience. I wish I could make you see that.

You are brave, beautiful, and smart. You are wonderful, Katniss, and don't ever think for one second that you're not. Maybe you already know that, I have no idea, but I figure it doesn't hurt to hear it from someone else. I just want to see you as happy as you were in the bakery the other day, because you were truly radiant. Your smile has a way of brightening up the day so much that it puts the sun to shame, and the world is a much darker place without it.

Anyways, I really hope we can somehow forget about all of this and still be friends. I'm just now getting to talk to you and know you, and I'd hate to go back to silence because I've already been silent for way too long. I hope we can maybe talk at lunch? Please meet me by my car if you can. I'll understand if you're still too angry though. Again, I am very sorry Katniss. I was a huge jerk and would hate for this to make things uncomfortable at work, or between us in general. I just want things to go back to how they were before last night, if it's possible.

-Peeta

I sit with my eyes narrowed, reading and rereading his letter during the entirety of class, and then through the next one too. I don't come close to understanding it. Why do I even matter at all to him?

I feel the need to explain things to Peeta, so I gather my courage and decide to meet him during lunch like he asked. I see him standing by his car, getting ready to unlock the door when I approach.

"Hey…" I greet quietly. He turns around instantly, his eyes going wide with surprise.

"You actually came. I really didn't think you'd show up. Not after what I said to you last night. I'm really, really sorry, Katniss."

I glance away, feeling awkward to be talking to him about this out in the open.

"Can I talk to you in the car? I don't feel like saying things out here… in front of everyone."

"Sure," Peeta replies and moves to unlock the passenger door for me. I sit down and he shuts the door behind me before making his way to the other side.

When we're both inside the car, he turns to me with a small, sheepish smile. "You seem like you got more sleep today."

"Peeta..." My heart hammers against my ribcage as I turn to him. "You left before I even had a chance to explain things to you last night—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me." He glances away, seemingly uncomfortable that I'd even bring the subject up again. I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, but I don't like him thinking that Gale and I are anything more than what we are, or that I 'sleep around'. Because that's not who I am, and he should know that.

"Yes I do, because you were wrong about everything. All of it." I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my seat to stare up at the ceiling. "I was really tired yesterday, and I guess I didn't think of how things sounded when I was saying them." I bite my lip and glance over at him again. He's staring at me intently, as if wanting to believe me, yet not fully convinced. He raises his eyebrows for me to continue, and so I mumble self-consciously, "Gale and I… we're not like that. We never have been. When I said we sleep together, I meant only sleep - nothing else."

"Katniss, I'm so sorry for everything," he says, and I can hear the sincerity and embarrassment in his voice. "Really, I had no right to say anything that I did. I feel like a complete ass."

"I'm sorry for being an idiot who can't talk right," I say quietly, wanting this conversation to end as quickly as possible.

"And I'm sorry for being an idiot who says hurtful things," Peeta replies in turn, and I can tell he's being sincere. I notice his demeanor change in an instant, as if remembering something. "Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you lunch today. I hope that's okay?"

I glance curiously at him and he flashes a smile before reaching into the backseat to retrieve two brown paper bags.

What in the world would even compel him to think of bringing me lunch? Does he know I don't eat at school? I guess he doesn't ever see me in the lunchroom, or maybe he knew we'd have to talk today and planned ahead...

He hands one of the bags to me. I hesitate at first, feeling awkward about accepting his charity. But then I realize that if I don't take it from him, that would be rude. And also, I'm kind of hungry too.

"Thank you," I mumble. "You really didn't have to."

"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to." He gives me a half smile, then opens his bag to take out a sandwich.

I open the bag he gave me without another word. As I look into it, though, my heart stops and the blood drains from my face. My mouth is dry and I can't find the words to even talk.

The past comes rushing back in an instant….

Inside is a sandwich; turkey, lettuce, and swiss cheese on whole wheat, an apple, a sugar cookie that's obviously from the bakery, and a small carton of chocolate milk.

To anyone else, this would just be normal food in a normal lunch. But to me, it's so much more than that.

I remember being young, just having turned twelve. My dad had died earlier the previous year and Mom had married Snow a few months prior. It was when things started getting bad; when we moved into the trailer and the abuse got worse.

I stopped being able to receive school lunches, and while I was living as best as I could off the land with Gale before we had moved, I didn't know the new area well enough to venture off far. I was too scared.

I remember being so hungry… unbelievably hungry. I wasn't used to the newly missed lunches at school. I still remember smelling the delicious scents that would waft down the hall from the cafeteria, how the other kids would talk about how horrible it all was while stuffing their faces, and how I'd envy them for every bite they took.

And then, as if by miracle, the lunches started appearing.

Every morning I'd sit in my assigned seat at the beginning of class and open the lid to find a brown paper bag with my name scrawled across it in childlike script. There was never a name of who it came from and no one ever gave me any indication that it was them. I thought maybe it was a sympathetic teacher for a while, trying to appear as a student, but I wasn't sure.

This went on for months, every day, and I'd always save half of it for Prim. In a lot of ways, I feel like just this little bit of nourishment is what kept us alive in the beginning.

Then one day it stopped.

Every so often, though, I'd open my desk to find something inside of it. Sometimes it was a turkey and Swiss sandwich or a piece of fruit, a cheese bun, a cinnamon roll... or a sugar cookie….

Just like the one in the paper bag that Peeta had just given me.

How did I never connect the dots before now?

All I know is that I need answers, and I need them now.

"Peeta…" I'm still staring down inside the bag with wide eyes. My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. I glance at him in confusion, as well as dawning realization. "It was you… wasn't it? It had to be…."

"Katniss—" Peeta looks guilty and won't meet my eyes. And now I know it was him; I have no doubt about it.

I turn my body towards him in the seat, interested in hearing what he has to say. What would compel him, as a young boy, to do something so thoughtful for some poor girl he didn't even know or talk to? I don't get it. I need to make sense of this somehow.

"You left the bagged lunches for me. After my dad died, and things got bad…." My voice is soft, almost questioning, but knowing. I know it was him. Why did he never say anything to me or take the credit for it?

Anyone else would have.

Peeta still won't look at me. He just stares down at the sandwich in his hands, his cheeks burning bright red.

"I told you before," he shrugs and finally looks at me with a nervous smile, "I've noticed you more than you realize."

He glances away quickly and takes a bite of his food. I shake my head, still not understanding any of this. I feel like I'm seeing Peeta in a whole new light and it scares me, but not in a bad way.

My mind is racing.

I sit back in the seat again and look out the window, feeling my heart thump erratically as my breathing becomes shaky. I feel like I might cry. I just feel overwhelmed by all of this. And also very, very confused.

He's not jumping to explain anything, so after a moment I turn to him again,

"Why, though? You had no reason at all to do that. You didn't even know me or talk to me before. I really don't understand. Just… why?"

He sighs and shakes his head, as if gathering his thoughts to continue. I frown and raise my eyebrows impatiently, willing him to continue.

He avoids my eyes as he asks in a shaky voice, "Do you promise not to laugh or think I'm weird?" He looks at me with serious, searching eyes and I nod quickly. "I… um… I don't know how to say this without—"

I roll my eyes at him. I wish he'd just get on with already. I have so many questions and he seems to be avoiding them.

"Just say it, Peeta. I want to know."

"Fine. Here goes nothing." He brings his hands to his face and releases a long, unsteady breath. Nibbling lightly on his bottom lip, he looks at me again, his eyes searching mine with a meaning that I'm not exactly sure of. "Please don't let this freak you out or anything?"

"I promise I won't freak out."

I glance down at his hands and notice that they are trembling. I want to reach out and stop them from doing so, but instead I just look away.

"Okay. Well, uh, I've… kind of had a crush on you since kindergarten." I turn to him in shock, not daring to believe my ears. My eyes are wide and my mouth is hanging slightly open in question, but I can't form words. His answer just added a million more questions to the ones I already have. "I've always been sort of shy around you and never knew what to say. You're kind of intimidating, you know, and… oh god, you must think I'm a huge idiot—"

"No, I don't," I reassure him, finally finding my voice again. The words sound foreign coming from my mouth. I attempt to laugh, but it comes out sounding strange too. I fold my arms over my chest again. "I might think you're a bit of an idiot for liking me, of all people, but other than that..." I shrug.

He turns to me suddenly, taking me by surprise. I find that I can't look into his eyes anymore. It just seems weird and awkward, like it's something more than before. I don't really know how to handle or think of all this new information.

"I'd be an idiot not to like you," he replies adamantly. "And I'm sorry the lunches stopped towards the end of the year. Mom caught me and gave me a good whopping for it."

As he explains, I vaguely remember Peeta coming to school with a black eye for a week or so. I just assumed he'd gotten it from playing sports or that one of his brothers played a little too roughly with him. This information makes my hatred for Mrs. Mellark a whole lot stronger. How could anyone harm or hit someone as gentle and kind as Peeta? It's like someone hitting Prim. It's senseless and unthinkable.

"I didn't really care about that, actually, but she started locking all the food up at night. I tried to sneak things into your desk when I could because I knew you were hungry. The next year, we were in middle school and had lockers… and I couldn't sneak things to you anymore. I should've just approached you and said something, but I wasn't sure how you'd react and I didn't want to embarrass you or anything like that either. I'm really sorry. I still wanted to help you, I just didn't know how—"

"Don't be sorry, Peeta," I reply, cutting him off. He should not be apologizing for his generosity. I should be thanking him. He has no idea how much those lunches meant to me back then; how much it still means to me now. It made me feel like someone, somewhere, cared about me. I finally look at him again, daring myself to meet his eyes.

"You did help me. You helped me when I needed it most, you really have no idea. And you're helping me now more than you can ever imagine." My voice is becoming shaky and my face must be the color of a tomato, just like Peeta's. I still have so many questions, but I decide to ask him one that keeps coming to my mind, "I'm curious… the job at the bakery… was that your doing?"

He lets out a small laugh.

"I can't really take the credit for that. Dad sprung that out of nowhere. Not that I'm not thrilled about it..."

My eyes go wide again as I take in what he's saying. I feel self-conscious as I ask, "Does your dad know about how you… feel? About me?"

It's like I'm in a dream. None of this feels real. I still don't come close to understanding why someone like Peeta would ever like or find anything remotely interesting about me. What does he see in me that I don't?

He nods, adding quickly, "Please don't let it make things weird between us. And don't feel obligated into liking me back, okay? I didn't tell you all of this because I expect something from you or for you to return any feelings whatsoever. I know you barely know me, and that would be way too much to expect right now. I only want your friendship. I'm happy just getting to talk to you finally. I never thought I'd work up the courage to do that. Dad didn't really give me a choice though."

He looks at me with a small smile, and I find myself smiling back.

"Well," I tell him after a moment, "I'm glad he didn't."