The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.

Peeta's POV

"Wake up!"

It's so cold. That's not unusual, but right now it's even colder. Where are the sheets? I search with my hands, but can't reach far enough. Grunting, I open my eyes to find them easier and wish I hadn't. There's a bare foot right in front of my face.

"Rye!" I exclaim, sitting up, suddenly awake.

"Told you to wake up, didn't work. Thought you might want a little motivation," Rye says with a smirk, leaning against the wall.

"Gross."

"And you are going to be too unless you take your turn in the bathroom right now. I was feeling nice enough to wake you up before you miss it at all. Doesn't mean I won't kick you out if you're in there for more than 8 minutes. Actually, 7 minutes, 30 seconds and counting…"

I groan and stand up off the floor, stumbling against the wall and then proceeding to drag my feet to the bathroom. I close the door as quietly as possible, in case someone's lucky enough to still be sleeping. My annoying brother isn't to blame for my grumpiness, it's how bad my last two nights have been. The first night I didn't sleep at all, not used neither to the different house, nor to the cold ground beneath my head. I thought last night would go better, with an extra pillow and blanket, and it did. I managed to fall asleep, but I wish I hadn't. I woke up countless times from nightmares, too discontinuous for me to remember, but always with my mother as a main participant. Each time I was too exhausted to think too hard about them, so I managed to go back to sleep, just to wake up not much longer after that, shivering and sweating at the same time.

The nap I tried to take beforehand was shortly interrupted by Katniss, though somehow I was feeling energized after our talk. Too giddy, I went to bed later than usual after I finally convinced myself that'll make the next day come faster. Now, even considering the nightmares, I wish I had controlled myself faster, because my eyes are closing and I'm not even at school yet.

It probably wouldn't have been bad to take a cold shower to wake me up, but in the end I choose to take a hot one, because my back is killing me and because it's going to piss off Rye, who's always cold. I laugh when, as I'm reaching for the soap, my brother calls out a threat about what's going to happen to me if there's no hot water left. I decide to be considerate this time, quickly rinsing off and wrapping a towel around my waist. I'm barely out of the bathroom before my Rye's walking right past me and slamming the door in my face.

"You're welcome," I say, walking back to "our" room. It actually belongs to our not born yet nephew, but we all decided it'd be better for us to sleep on this floor rather than on the living room's, where dad snores his head off. We've moved the not in use yet crib and shelves to the side of the windows, so there's more space and so that they keep at least some of the cold out.

I pull out the easiest pair of clothing to reach in my unpacked luggage – a pair of blue jeans and a beige sweater. After quickly putting them on, not having anywhere to check if I look presentable enough, I start making my way downstairs. I pass by the living room and notice that the couch is empty. The sheets are gone too, so dad must've woken up a while ago. Even without a bakery, he still remains a baker at heart.

I'm more surprised when I don't find him in the kitchen, either. I told him yesterday about the visit to Haymitch Abernathy he's got to take, but I don't think he's naïve enough to think the drunkard would be awake this early.

"Your dad got a few calls from people, asking for deliveries. We could use the money," Elsa, Bannock's wife, tells me when she sees me standing awkwardly. We don't know each other very well. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only not so obvious thing she knows about me is the reason I have to stay in her home.

"Oh. They should've woken me up earlier. I could've helped," I say, though it's hard not to flinch at the idea of getting even less sleep. Still, I hate feeling useless, which is what I've been since we moved here.

"It was just a couple of simple bread orders, no point in three people working on one recipe. The kitchen's too small, anyway." I nod, finally walking in said kitchen. "There are scrambled eggs on the stove. That is, if Bannock left any, of course," Elsa says with a smile and then returns to her book.

I fill a plate with eggs, grab a piece of the bread that's left on the counter and take a seat next to Elsa. She stands up shortly after that and I sigh at my failed attempt to get to know her to avoid any more awkward interactions. Now, naturally, I've made it even more awkward. She sets her book on the counter and takes two glasses out of the cupboard. It's not until she's setting one of them, filled with orange juice, in front of me that I realize she's just being polite and smile. She returns the smile, but that makes mine disappear. The way she's looking at me reminds me of the way dad did when he told me we were moving here. She's about to tell me something she doesn't want to, but has to. I clutch the glass while she clutches my other hand.

"Peeta, I'm telling you this, because your father or brothers never will. I meant what I said – we could use the money from deliveries… it's just not enough. It was barely enough when the bakery was open. I'm stuck here and that puts a lot of weight on Bannock's shoulders." Her sigh tells me this problem is way older than yesterday. "The baby's not even born yet. What's going to happen when it is? We don't have money for ourselves and you don't even have a roof over your heads. We need to do something before it's too late."

I did know we can't live here for much longer. Elsa's almost 8 months pregnant and time's running out. Even if we win back the bakery and our home, we can't know when that would happen. I don't want to think about the situation if we lose everything forever.

"It's too cold outside to go around asking people if they want to buy anything from us without the guarantee that they will and with the chance of Peacekeepers noticing. Rye declined but I… I was thinking you could tell your friends and they could tell their families about the deliveries your dad and Bannock are willing to do. Just friends, though. I know it's against the law without the Mellark Bakery sign, but I don't know what we'd do otherwise, Peeta, I don't know…"

"Okay." I let go of the glass and place my hand on top of ours. "I will and I'll be careful. I don't know if it will make a big difference, though."

"People are starving. As heartless as it may sound, we can use that in our favor."

I nod. Everyone can afford at least a loaf of bread, as long as there is somewhere to buy it from. Even the merchants must be finding themselves in trouble now.

"Months ago I tried to give a couple of my paintings to my parents to sell, but they refused to "let me use them"… which I guess I was trying to do." Elsa's family owns a tiny art shop in town. If it wasn't for her mother's paintings being sent to the Capitol, they'd be one of the poorest citizens. I can count on my fingers the people in this district who can even dream about buying something from there; about buying something for their own entertainment. It was one of my own dreams, which is why Elsa and Bannock even know each other. When he was still in school and had the responsibility to get me home safely, I'd beg him to go past the art shop, even just to stare through the window, much like I've seen Katniss and her sister do at the bakery. One time he was nice enough to agree to go inside and it wasn't until that started to happen more than once a week that I realized Bannock had found his own entertainment in the painter's daughter.

Elsa doesn't have the greatest relationship with her family, either. You don't need to know her very well to notice that. While she was invited to a dinner with our family at least once a week, I doubt Bannock's even stepped foot in her house. I don't think it's because they don't approve of him, I think it's her they're disappointed in. Elsa and Bannock were both terrified when they learned about the pregnancy. It was then that Elsa began to join us for dinner even on the nights my brother was supposed to come alone and she - to go to her own childhood home.

"It's funny, really. A year ago they were begging me to paint, so I could get the chance to go to the Capitol, possibly even move there. Now they don't think they're enough for a small shop in district 12." She laughs bitterly.

I can't think of a good enough response. It'd be like comforting myself for the things my mother has said to me. Scars left from words take longer to heal than bruises from a slap (or a punch or a kick). Thankfully, Rye walks in before I'm too deep in thoughts of the past.

"You done?" He asks me and I shake my head, looking at my untouched plate. Rye stayed at home yesterday because he could barely walk thanks to the kick Ewald gave him, but he seems fine today. All because of the medicine Katniss delivered, of course. Otherwise he would have probably missed the rest of the school week. Ah, wishes.

"No, but if you are, go ahead. I'm meeting Delly at her house before that anyway and something tells me you wouldn't want to accompany me."

"Why's that? Delly's nice." I snort. If I had a penny for every time I heard that… well, we wouldn't be worrying about money. Not that it's untrue, but Delly's so much more than just nice.

"Well, you see, Rye… I know sometimes, with the good treatment here, it's easy to forget, but you don't live at the bakery anymore," Elsa hints with a smile.

"I'd have to do more than cross the street to get to the Cartwrights," I add. He gets my drift and goes to put on his coat, murmuring about how I'm either the best friend anyone could ask for or a complete lunatic. Since Delly is the best friend that could exist, allowing me to complain to her about anything and everything, I'm clearly a lunatic.

After quickly packing two cupcakes and, to Elsa's insistence, the leftover bread, for lunch, I go to put on my coat and boots. I grab my bag and with a quick goodbye, step outside. The hot shower wasn't such a bad idea after all, the cold wind does a good enough job to wake me up. We'll definitely have snow by the end of the week. In my hurry to get inside a warm place again, I must get to Delly's house earlier than we agreed on, because when I arrive in front of the shoe shop there's no sight of her. Looking at the shoes displayed on the window, I jump slightly from one foot to another in an attempt to get warmer. I really jump when my arm is being grabbed and I'm hauled down the stairs.

"See anything you like?" Delly's laugh is too loud for this time of the morning.

"I doubt I'll be able to afford anything you sell in there soon, Del," I say, immediately regretting it when I see her smile disappear. It's not for long though, neither the rainy clouds on the sky nor the dark clouds I constantly put over our heads stand a chance next to Delly Cartwright's optimism.

"Not anytime soon perhaps, but after the people that are afraid of your mother, meaning half the population of the district, are finally free to enter the bakery, you'll be better financially than ever. Money isn't the best prize in this situation, but it's still there," Delly says, linking her arm with mine, for both warmth and comfort, as we begin our walk to school.

"Not if the bakery and our home aren't there. The possibility that we won't win is." I'm usually a glass half full person too, but it's kind of hard to look at the positives when there are so many negatives and the stakes are this high.

"The chance of losing is easy to forget with Katniss Everdeen on your side." Sometimes I think my friend admires Katniss more than I do. That at least actually works as reassurance. I sigh, defeated.

"Good morning to you too, anyway."

"Sorry. Good morning. I might of have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today. Actually, I didn't even wake up on a bed, so that might be for blame."

"It's totally okay, whatever the reason. What won't be okay is if you ditch me at lunch again today." I scratch my neck nervously and she gasps. "Peeta! Who even let you in the art room yesterday, anyway?"

"Please, the teacher loves me," I say, simply stating a fact. I'm one of the few people, if not the only one, that doesn't take her class as just an hour in which you get to entertain yourself for a difference in your boring schedule.

Avoiding both Katniss and our fellow curious classmates had become a nightmare pretty quickly, by lunch to be exact. I wanted at least half an hour in which I didn't have to be on my toes, as if waiting for a bomb to drop. When I passed by the art room, it almost called to me. Miss Manet was just heading out and didn't need much convincing to give the keys to her favorite student and go get some caffeine. I was at complete peace, until Delly found me and told me about Katniss' sudden walkout. Turns out we both have hiding places.

"I love you and that is exactly why you can not leave me again. Yesterday was so bad, Peeta. I had to joke about things I don't think either of us finds very funny. Katniss so hates me now."

"She does not hate you. Just the people that don't know any of the truth, but still have their mouths open. If it'll make you feel better, I'll let her know what you're doing is just trying to survive. I was kind of going to have lunch with her, but if you can't get through it alone…"

"How do you kind of have lunch with someone?"

"She invited me yesterday and I kind of agreed. But we made some things clear, so I think one more day at the usual table won't do much damage."

"No way, you're sitting with her. Then I can be a double agent." Delly smiles again with a hint of mischief and I laugh.

"You sure you can do this?" I ask.

"Yes, Peeta, I think I can handle myself. The real question, though, is can you. Remember that Katniss has a very important part in the trial, so don't scare her off by kissing her… or something." Moments like this I regret that Delly is the first and only person I've told about the crush I've had on Katniss forever. (emphasis on the told, as dad and Rye managed to find out on their own).

Forever started on the first day of school. She had on a red plaid dress and her hair was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed her out when we were waiting to line up. He said, "See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner." And I said, "A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?" "Because when he sings . . . even the birds stop to listen." So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Katniss' hand shot right up in the air. The teacher stood her up on a stool and had her sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent. Right when her song ended, I knew — just like her mother — I was a goner. Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to her. Without success.

"Do we know each other? If I felt such a sudden urge that I just couldn't handle, I think I would've done it by now."

"So you don't want to kiss her?" I groan. This is going exactly where I don't want it to go.

"Of course I want to kiss her! But there are so many things that come before that." It bothers me how many of my interactions with Katniss wouldn't have happened at all it wasn't for my mother. All I can do is take advantage of her stubbornness, or whatever is driving her, to win this and hope that we remain at least acquaintances after my mother is out of the picture.

"You take care of these things, I'm going to chat to Ewald today. Since he's so interested in the case, he might know something we don't from his father," Delly says, surprisingly bold.

"I wouldn't be surprised if even the judge doesn't know what happens now. This must've taken him by surprise."

"Yes, you are certainly making history."

My first two classes go agonizingly slow. The group of friends I used to be in must've come to some kind of mutual agreement about me, judging from the empty seats besides me. It's way easier to avoid someone when they're doing it too. Katniss and I would know.

I've never minded being alone, especially after never having that at home with two brothers constantly bugging me and mother always coming at me. However it's easy to get used to the noise around you at school too. I know I still have Delly, but I had a few other friends that weren't bad people either. Not everyone is Ewald, but surely everyone would take his side, the judge's son's side.

The first class was Math and I forced myself to pay attention, because the last thing I need is failing grades. Going to Science, I was hoping to get at least a glimpse of Katniss but, to my disappointment, she was nowhere in sight.

Wanting to get over with the next class too, I've given up on seeing her before lunch, so when the bell rings, I hurry through the hallway and almost pass right by her, accidentaly this time. I can tell she had seen me from afar, while all I got to register is her frown. She must be thinking I'm back to pretending I don't know who she is. Panicking, I grab her wrist, before she can get too far. Noticing that Gale's with her, I let go. I know he saw us when we were leaving school yesterday and he didn't seem very bothered or surprised, but some of Haymitch's words still bother me, though they're not a surprise. New boyfriend. I haven't seen Katniss hanging with any other male, so it must be Gale he was talking about. Of course.

"Almost didn't see you. Hi," I say, hoping I'm not smiling too widely, but when Katniss gives me a sheepish smile of her own, I know I must be.

"Hi." She looks back to Gale for a second, probably to try and introduce him to me, but he's busy talking to two guys by the lockers. She takes a deep breath, then releases it and I'm left to wonder if it's a sigh from relief or this is causing her pain.

"I'll see you at lunch?" I offer, trying to make it easier on her.

She nods quickly. "Just one more period."

I smile again, relieved she hasn't changed her mind and I've been looking forward to nothing. "Okay. See you, Katniss."

"See you." Her body turns towards Gale, but her eyes stay trained on mine as I walk away.

In English, when the teacher finds out no one has done their reading (or so she thinks, as I didn't raise my hand to not draw attention to myself), we are assigned to read right now the first couple of chapters of a sappy romance novel, sent straight from the Capitol. I read them yesterday before my nap, so I am now free to pretend I'm doing so, while in reality I'm scribbling on a piece of paper hidden inside my book.

I don't fully realize my drawing is more than scribbles before I start working on the shade that falls across the bench from the oak tree. I've drawn Katniss' hiding place.

Around 10 minutes before the class' end, the teacher asks a few questions. The silence that comes after most of them is too annoying even for me, so I end up raising my hand, despite the immediate attention that settles on me and never really leaves before the bell saves me. After I tuck the drawing between the pages of my book, I collect my stuff and leave the classroom.

Even with my lunch bag with me and not in my locker at the opposite end of the cafeteria, it takes me forever to get inside. Have there always been this many people at school or are the odds just never in my favor? Unconsciously, my gaze shifts to the crowd I usually sit with, but they're all ignoring me, just like they have for the entire day. Delly locks eyes with me before quickly turning to Ewald again. When I get to Katniss and Madge's table, they are, of course, already there.

Thanks to my observations, I know they usually sit across each other on the round table, but today they're next to one another, their bags left on the chairs beside them, leaving only one empty. Madge's the first to notice me, while Katniss is focused on buttoning her coat. And just yesterday she was ready to spend lunch outside.

"Hi, Peeta," Madge greets me with a smile, all good manners and all. She doesn't comment on the fact that their lunch conditions have changed for the first time in a while, possibly ever, and that I am the one intruding. I'm somewhat relieved that at least one of Katniss' friends likes me, but still wait for her grey eyes to lock with my blue ones before I sit down.

They already have their lunches out. Madge has a bowl of soup, Katniss - a madehome meat sandwich. I can only guess whose are the items placed in the middle of the table. The box of crackers must belong to the mayor's daughter who can get Capitol supplies whenever and the plate of apples must have come from a certain someone that spends their free time in the woods.

I must have been eyeing them for awhile, because Katniss says, "You can have one. I brought three, one for each of us. We always share."

I flush and for one terryfing second think about how my cheek would be red for another reason if my mom ever catches me staring so rudely. Shaking my head, not allowing the dark thoughts in at least for as long as there is daylight, I take my own lunch out too.

"Maybe later, thank you. I actually brought something too, but it's probably more appropriate for dessert."

"is it cheese buns?" Katniss asks with a raised eyebrow, but I can tell she's trying to contain her excitment.

"Actually… no." I curse myself for not waking up earlier. "Most of the orders for the deliveries Bannock and dad did today were just bread. I guess they didn't have time to experiment and I was still asleep. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Katniss almost scolds me. "It's fine."

"Right. Sorry." She rolls her eyes, while Madge just laughs softly. I place on the table the two cupcakes I grabbed in the last moment, but still very much with the intention of giving one to each of the girls.

"They're from the last batch from the bakery, but still good, I hope," I say, looking at Katniss.

"Chocolate cupcakes. I've never had one of those," she says, not taking her eyes off them until I push one towards her and the other towards Madge.

"Well, let's change that."

Both me and Madge leave our other activites to see Katniss take her first bite. She does, with an unsure smile that widens after she swallows.

"It's different than normal chocolate."

"Good different?" I ask.

"Good different," she confirms, leaving the rest of the cupcake aside. "Too good. I need to finish my sandwich first."

Madge, noticing all I've got in front of me is a piece of bread with some ham, stops before she's even had her own first bite.

"Oh, wait. I can't have it if it was supposed to be for you. You obviously brought two so you and Katniss can share them," Madge tells me hastily, putting the cupcake down.

"I was expecting for you to be here, Madge. If I wasn't, I would've brought just one. Actually, perhaps two wouldn't have been a bad idea, since Katniss likes them so much." This seems to make Madge relax in her seat, but Katniss fidget nervously and I laugh. My laugh is even sincerer at the scowl on her face.

"You sure?" Madge asks, fidgeting with the wrapper.

"Absolutely. Personally, I'm more of a cinnamon guy."

With a relaxed smile, Madge finally takes her bite. She doesn't comment before she's done chewing, of course.

"Don't tell this to our chef at home, but these are way better than his. Actually, pretty much everything from the bakery is better than his," she says, smiling sadly. "I miss that place already." There's my cue.

"I have good news, then." Suddenly nervous they'd think I'm using them and this is some kind of a sham, I clear my throat before I continue. "As I said earlier, we're willing to do deliveries. As dangerous as it is, I think we won't get in trouble if we keep it between a few costumers. There's no other option with how fast our savings are disappearing. I don't think Bannock's even paid you yet," I say, turning to Katniss. That's the part that bothers me the most – Katniss suffering from our situation. Considering I would be the one suffering if it wasn't for her, that's the last thing that I want.

"Oh! That's good… I think. I'll ask at home and let you know, but I'm already sure no one would mind. Some days my mom gets out of bed just for a piece of cake." The more Madge talks, the quieter her voice gets. It just hit me that I've never seen her mother, but I don't want to pry.

"The paycheck can wait, you sort your things out," Katniss says, done with her sandwich and now focusing on her cupcake.

"Katniss, I can't-"

"I have an idea." For sweet, good-mannered Madge to interrupt me, it must be a pretty good idea.

"Katniss, you just asked me for help with your investigating, right? But it can never happen because of my dad. What if you hire Peeta and instead of paying him, he works for the money the Mellarks owe you?"

Both of us seem to be thinking this through for a moment. A chance to be in Katniss' company even more often? My heart screams yes, but my head disagrees.

"I don't know the first thing about spying."

"It's not just spying," Katniss suddenly says. "There's a lot of paperwork too, but what I'm looking for is someone to take photos for me. I'm terrible." With my background in painting, that doesn't sound so difficult.

"I guess I can do that."

"Good. I really wasn't looking forward to holding auditions or something," Katniss says, wrinkling her nose and I laugh, relieved. "You free after school? There are some things we have to discuss about your case, too."

"Yeah, I'm free. Bannock's place hardly an option, though. We barely fit as it is." It's my turn to fidget nervously.

"My house is okay… if you're okay with that." My eyes widen. I haven't even dreamed of going to the Everdeens' house. Okay, maybe just a couple of times.

"Sure."

So the odds can be in my favor too.

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