Everyone left the square, family by family, relieved that one of their own hadn't been chosen. Although my family was safe, I felt no relief. He had been chosen. "Peeta," I tasted his name on my tongue once more. "Peeta," I whispered.

"What's that, Nevi?"

"Nothing, mom. Nothing," I mumbled as we traveled along the stony pathway to our home. Tonight, we would celebrate. Celebrate that none of ours was chosen. I, on the other hand, had other things in mind. Slowly and quietly I slipped away from my parents. I wasn't sure where I was going, only that I had to find something of his. Something he had touched. He lived in this same stinking district as me all our lives, how had we never crossed paths? I ventured through The Seam for what seemed like hours, finally reaching my destination as the sun went down. I was at the bakery. I wasn't shocked my feet had pulled me here, because as I stood outside looking in, I felt him. The warm feeling of my dreams washed over me. I stepped closer, and closer, until my next move had to be to try the door, or turn around. I tried it. I whistled inwardly as the door slide open. I crept inside slowly, searching for any signs that Peeta's parents might be inside. When it felt like the coast was clear, I began to run my finger along the counters, the oven, and the cupboards. When my fingertips touched a piping bag of green icing, I felt energy run through me. In my mind's eye, I saw him.

He looked so graceful, his hands carefully molding flowers out of icing, placing them one by one on delicious looking cakes. He looked so concentrated, but also made it seem effortless.

My eyes flew open. He decorated cakes. I stepped over to the window display. All of these cakes, he delicately slaved over; turning something ordinary, albeit expensive, into something extraordinary. He did that, my Peeta did that. "Oh, Peeta, how could I not have known all this time?" I took one last look around the bakery, and slid myself out.

"What are you doing here," shouted a loud voice. I spun around until my eyes met a woman, stepping out of from the shadows beside the bakery. "I.. I was just.. "

"You were just leaving! Scram! Get away from here!" I turned on my heel and ran with every ounce of energy I had. It had begun to rain, and each step I took sent mud flying up my clothes. I stood outside my home, trying to catch my breath before I went in and faced the scolding that was sure to come. It didn't buy me any time, the door swung open and there my mother stood. "Nevi Waters! Where have you been, and what on earth is all over your Reaping clothes? You know we can't afford good outfits!"

"I know, mom. We can't afford good anything. That's why I went to get a job." I stepped passed my mother's menacing stare and took my place at the eating table. My dinner was cold, but it was there, as was the empty place for my brother. "A job," exclaimed my mother. It was more of a confused statement than a question.

"Yes, a job. At the bakery." My father spit his nightly cup of lavender tea all over himself in his chair. "The bakery!" He exclaimed. "Why that poor family hasn't even had a chance to mourn and you're pounding on their door! Have you no respect, Nevi? Surely we raised you better than that." "Well that's just it dad, you did raise me better than that." I looked back and forth at their questioning glances. I had to come up with something quickly. "I.. That boy..Peeta." "Yes, what about the boy?" My mother sighed. "Well, I heard that he worked for his mom and dad, at that bakery.. I went to offer to replace him, to help them to keep their bakery going." I started to blush sheepishly.

"Well young lady-" my dad's voice was cut off by the sound of the television flickering on. The Games! Ceaser Flickerman, a man as old as time, came on the screen to wish everyone a Happy Hunger Games. They were going to recap the tributes from all the districts.

I scooped up my bowl of cold oatmeal and sat close to the television, waiting to catch a glimpse of Peeta. I hoped my reaction hadn't been caught on camera, or I'd be in very big trouble. I waited as I watched Careers from districts 1 and 2 volunteer for the Games, then names from 3, more Careers from 4, and more names. Unsuspecting boys and girls took the stage, all with the same frightful look on their faces. Finally, it came to District 12. Effie was unmistakeable. "Peeta Mellark," she called. I leaned so far forward that I had to catch myself on my hands so I didn't go crashing into the TV. "Peeta," I mumbled. I reached out to touch the screen, and it went black. "That's enough, Nevi. Time for bed. I need you up early in the morning to help me with this weeks gathering." Mother and I gathered whatever herbs and spices we could find along the fence line to add to our usual meals of oatmeal. I shuffled off. That night, I fell into a dreamless sleep. I woke at dawn, my eyes flying open. "Peeta," I whispered groggily, clutching onto the piping bag I'd stolen from the bakery.