Peeta stood behind his mother, peering out into the dark and dreary night. His mother was screeching at the top of her lungs. Someone had been pawing through the garbage again. Probably some orphan from the Seam.
He watched the thin, feral girl and immediately recognized her. Katniss Everdeen. The girl who sometimes traded squirrels with his father for fresh bread, even though his mother hated the vile rodents. The girl who sang the valley song on the first day of school and caused all the birds to fall silent in awe of her melodious voice. The girl with whom Peeta had fallen madly in love...
His mother pushed brusquely past him and returned to the kitchen. But Peeta could only stand there and watch as Katniss slunk away into the darkness behind the pig pen. She leaned against the old apple tree and slid down the trunk to the roots. It reminded Peeta of that time when he saw an old mangy dog lay itself down in an alley to die. That same defeated posture was exhibited by the girl shivering in the rain.
Peeta knew what he had to do. He ran inside and went immediately toward the nearest oven where they were baking their most sumptuous bread. He took a long handled paddle and made as if to move the bread to the cooling rack. He let his hand slip, and the two loaves fell into the fire.
“Oh no!” he said, loudly enough that anyone within earshot could hear. “I'm sorry!” He quickly scooped the bread up with the paddle, before they could scorch too badly. “My hand must have slipped...”
“You stupid boy!” His mother was there with a wooden spoon in her hand. Before Peeta could react, she cracked the utensil across his cheek. He stumbled, dropping the bread to the floor. “You know we can't afford to waste good bread!”
“I'm sorry!” Peeta fell to his knees, scooping up the burned loaves. “I'll clean it up... Throw it away... No one will eat it anyway.” With hunched shoulders, he gathered the loaves to his chest and hurried outside, into the rain. His mother was shouting at him still, telling him to feed it to the pig.
Peeta made his way to the pig pen. He began pulling off hunks of scorched crust, hoping that his mother would see and be satisfied before he got to the unsoiled part. Thankfully, the bell rang and his mother disappeared to help a customer.
As soon as the door closed, Peeta took one look over his shoulder, just to make sure that the coast was clear. Then he tossed the remains of the two loaves to the girl huddled at the base of the tree, making sure that they wouldn't land in a mud puddle.
The boy never even spared her a glance before sloshing back toward the bakery. He couldn't. To see her—Katniss, that beautiful huntress—reduced to such a pitiful state... it was too painful. Besides, she had her pride, and he respected her for that. Those two rich loaves of bread filled with nuts and raisins would last her, and her family, for one night, he hoped.
Please, let it be enough, he thought as he opened the door and returned to the warmth of the kitchen.
He would have liked nothing more than to invite her in and let her eat the best bread and cakes he could offer. But he wasn't allowed. Those were reserved only for the wealthy residents and the Peacekeepers. Not even his own family could eat that bread until it became stale and unfit for sale.
He'd done the best he could, given the circumstances. And he hoped that it would be enough...
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Re: Peeta Mellark | The Hunger Games 4 of 4 DONE
Peeta stood behind his mother, peering out into the dark and dreary night. His mother was screeching at the top of her lungs. Someone had been pawing through the garbage again. Probably some orphan from the Seam.
He watched the thin, feral girl and immediately recognized her. Katniss Everdeen. The girl who sometimes traded squirrels with his father for fresh bread, even though his mother hated the vile rodents. The girl who sang the valley song on the first day of school and caused all the birds to fall silent in awe of her melodious voice. The girl with whom Peeta had fallen madly in love...
His mother pushed brusquely past him and returned to the kitchen. But Peeta could only stand there and watch as Katniss slunk away into the darkness behind the pig pen. She leaned against the old apple tree and slid down the trunk to the roots. It reminded Peeta of that time when he saw an old mangy dog lay itself down in an alley to die. That same defeated posture was exhibited by the girl shivering in the rain.
Peeta knew what he had to do. He ran inside and went immediately toward the nearest oven where they were baking their most sumptuous bread. He took a long handled paddle and made as if to move the bread to the cooling rack. He let his hand slip, and the two loaves fell into the fire.
“Oh no!” he said, loudly enough that anyone within earshot could hear. “I'm sorry!” He quickly scooped the bread up with the paddle, before they could scorch too badly. “My hand must have slipped...”
“You stupid boy!” His mother was there with a wooden spoon in her hand. Before Peeta could react, she cracked the utensil across his cheek. He stumbled, dropping the bread to the floor. “You know we can't afford to waste good bread!”
“I'm sorry!” Peeta fell to his knees, scooping up the burned loaves. “I'll clean it up... Throw it away... No one will eat it anyway.” With hunched shoulders, he gathered the loaves to his chest and hurried outside, into the rain. His mother was shouting at him still, telling him to feed it to the pig.
Peeta made his way to the pig pen. He began pulling off hunks of scorched crust, hoping that his mother would see and be satisfied before he got to the unsoiled part. Thankfully, the bell rang and his mother disappeared to help a customer.
As soon as the door closed, Peeta took one look over his shoulder, just to make sure that the coast was clear. Then he tossed the remains of the two loaves to the girl huddled at the base of the tree, making sure that they wouldn't land in a mud puddle.
The boy never even spared her a glance before sloshing back toward the bakery. He couldn't. To see her—Katniss, that beautiful huntress—reduced to such a pitiful state... it was too painful. Besides, she had her pride, and he respected her for that. Those two rich loaves of bread filled with nuts and raisins would last her, and her family, for one night, he hoped.
Please, let it be enough, he thought as he opened the door and returned to the warmth of the kitchen.
He would have liked nothing more than to invite her in and let her eat the best bread and cakes he could offer. But he wasn't allowed. Those were reserved only for the wealthy residents and the Peacekeepers. Not even his own family could eat that bread until it became stale and unfit for sale.
He'd done the best he could, given the circumstances. And he hoped that it would be enough...
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