It's March, and spring has definitely sprung, or whatever they used to say. Usually here in District Twelve (especially around the Seam), there isn't much color. The skies are gray, grass doesn't grow well, and trees only get a few leaves it seems before they turn colors and fall away again.
But this spring is different. We've had our share of rain, but we've also had several bright cloud-free days, and there's suddenly green grass, flowers and buds sprouting up everywhere. It's amazing how much happier everyone becomes with a little sunshine. My teachers smile, the bakery customers are friendly, and even Mother lets us sneak a few cookies that aren't fully stale yet.
The only thing on my mind right now, however, is Katniss. She's even more beautiful than she was all winter, bundled up in her father's old canvas jacket. Today, her nose is pink from the sun-she was probably hunting after school yesterday afternoon-and she's wearing short sleeves for the first time in months. From my seat behind her in class, I'm mesmerized by her arms. Her elbows are too bony but they're clean and smooth, unlike my own after the long dry winter. When she raises her hand to answer a question, I can see a bit of toned but tiny bicep peek out under her shirt, and I wet my lips, willing away thoughts of what it would be like to see underneathher shirt.
I want her. Like, wanther. I want to feel her skin on my lips and her lips on my skin. But I can't even bring myself to speak to her. What the hell is wrong with me? She turns her head to ask the girl sitting nearby a question, and I stare at her lips, mouthing the words softly. "Do you have a piece of paper?"
Do you have a piece of paper ... five seconds too late, I realize that instead of getting an erection over Katniss saying something so mundane, I could have interjected and actually given her a piece of paper, talked to her, made her see me.
I sigh and adjust myself, trying to focus on the lecture. If you could open my brain, though, all you'd see would be arms and lips and skin … her skin.
It's Hunger Games Day! I cannot stop thinking about Peeta. I made three loaves of Peeta bread, District 11 crescent rolls, and Mr. Mellark's cookies last night, bundling them in 'parachutes' with quotes from the book and delivered them at 7am to my friends' houses. I'm CRAZY for Peeta. What can I say. *sigh*