Goner

Oh great. Another Monday morning. Another day of having to listen to my mother bark orders at me in the bakery. Another day of spending all of my time baking bread. Another day- wait a second. I jump out of my bed and throw my fists in the air.

I can't believe I forgot! I can't believe it's finally here! At long last, the day I've been looking forward to since I've heard of it has come! It's my first day of school! I will no longer be stuck here alone with my parents!

I run over to my dresser and rifle through my drawers of clothes looking for my favorite pair of pants and shirt: jeans shorts and an orange shirt. I've been keeping this outfit hidden away so I couldn't wear it and then dirty it up with flour or other stuff in the bakery. Then I throw open my door and run down the hallway to the staircase, but end up running into my mother.

"Peeta!" she snarls, "Why are you running?!"

I snap back without thinking, "I'm trying to hurry up for my first day of school!" But I realize my mistake too late. Next thing I know, I get a hard blow to the side of my head. "Ow!" I whine.

My mother is waggling a wooden spoon-which I'm guessing is what hit me- in my face, "Listen here you little creature. Don't you ever talk to me like that ever again! Do you hear me, or you'll regret it. I'm your mother, so respect me like it, got it?" I nod while rubbing my ear where she hit. "Now head down to the bakery and finish those orders!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And don't even think about leaving before you finish every last one of them! I don't care if you're late, or if you even make it to school at all! All I do care about is finishing those orders!" I nod and take a step to turn away, but she continues, "I don't even know why should have to go! What are you going to learn that's of use to you? Nothing! That's what! You'll be working here your whole life anyway!" And then she shoves me away, still ranting.

Still rubbing my ear, I make my way down the stairs into the bakery. I quickly snatch up the last apron and wrap it around myself, completely covering my shirt and pants. So I begin to mix together the ingredients to make the bread, cakes, or other bakery goods according to each order. My eyes constantly flicker to the clock until I finish the last order. I go looking for my two older brothers who were suppose to walk me to school, but apparently they've already left.

"Peeta?" I turn around and see my father. "You haven't left yet? You're going to be late." My eyebrows knit together in worry. I don't want to be late on my first day. "I'll take you. C'mon, son." And he crouches down so I can climb on his back piggie back style.

We reach the school in no time thanks to his long legs. As we approach the area, all of the kids my age are being lined up. They're calling out names to put us in order. He lets me down and kneels on one knee. "Ready for school, Peeta?" I nod eagerly. We look around at my prospective friends and then he places a hand on my shoulder and points. "See that girl?" He's pointing to a girl with olive tone skin, dark hair in two braids, wearing a red plaid dress. She's pretty. "I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner."

I look at my father shocked, "A coal miner? Why would she want a coal miner if she could've had you?"

He gives me a sad smile, "Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen."

Because the birds go silent when he sings? That makes no sense. That's no reason to choose a man from the Seam over my father. I open my mouth to protest and express my confusion when my name is called out. "Peeta Mellark!" I'm put into line, wave good bye to my father and look down at the pretty girl. I've decided I don't like her or her father. Who are they to say my father's not good enough?

After everyone's lined up, we're lead into a classroom and we all oogle. Our teacher instructs us to sit on a colorful rug and she gives us some speech about what we'll be going. I'm not paying attention because I'm still staring at everything around the room. I don't even notice when we are allowed to get up to do stuff.

I walk around looking for something to do until I find it. Paints. They make me think of the frosting on all of the cakes back at the bakery. There are other kids using other sets of paints making random things on their papers. But when I pick up my set and start working, I know exactly what I want to do, using some of my favorite color too.

When I'm through, I smile down at my work. Our teacher is going to each of the other kids telling them good job on their pictures. When she gets to me, I'm thinking maybe I should have stuck to doing random stuff because she seems to like them a lot. I try to cover my picture.

"Hello, Peeta," she says warmly, looking over me. "Why are you covering your picture?"

"It's-it's not that good," I say looking down at it shamefully.

"I'm sure it's beautiful. Can I see it? Please, Peeta?" I sigh and remove my arms, waiting for criticism. "Oh my," she gasps. I frown. She must hate it. She picks it up and I wait for a ripping noise, "This is really good, Peeta. Really good."

I look up at her doubtfully, "Really?"

"Oh yes. I love your sunset. It seems you're quite the little artist."

"Thank you, ma'am." I smile at my picture proudly. "I painted it because my favorite color is orange and sunsets have a lot of orange."

"Orange certainly is a pretty color," she agrees. "Do you paint a lot at home?"

I shake my head, "No. All we have is frosting and I'm not allowed to touch it yet."

"Well you should be allowed to use it."

"Thank you. I've always wanted to use the frosting, but my mother tells me no all of the time."

Eventually, she puts down my picture and she has the entire class move into desks to start practicing the alphabet. From my seat, I have the perfect view of the pretty girl I don't like. I frown at her, still not understanding why her mother chose her father over mine. We're not rich, but we're not as poor as the people in the Seam. I scoff the reason my father gave me. Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen. That's not even a good reason. Maybe they stop singing because he's a bad singer. Why would that girl's mother want to pick a bad singer over a good baker?

Next, we're all called back to the colorful rug for a story. It's a story from before the Hunger Games existed. Before the Dark Days. Before the rebellion. It's a story about a girl who gets saved by a boy from a horrible monster. It's not a mutt, but its not real either. A dragon, I think it's called. The boy almost dies trying to save her, but survives in the end thankfully. I think the boy is in love with her because he tries so hard to save her and she falls in love with him for saving her. It ends happily. I liked it.

The teacher closes the book and goes to put it up. Meanwhile, everyone starts talking. But I look out the window. It's a nice day. The sun is bright, the flowers are blooming, and some birds are chirping in a tree right by the window.

There's a clap and our attention snaps back to the teacher. "It's time for music assembly," she muses. "Okay, now. So who knows the valley song?" She scans the class then points. "Oh! Come on up then, sweetie." Someone has raised their hand. I turn to see who, but frown when I look. That girl. She gets to the front. "Tell everyone your name, please."

"Katniss Everdeen."

I don't like you, Katniss.

"Who taught you the valley song, Katniss?"

"My daddy."

That daddy that stole away her mother from my father. I don't like him either.

"Well stand up in this stool for me please." Katniss gets up on the stool. "Would you mind singing it for us, Katniss?"

She shakes her head, her braids tossing with her head. "Not at all." And she starts to sing.

That pretty girl has a pretty voice.

I lean forward to I hear her sing better. But she sounds just as pretty as before Maybe if her father sounded like this back then, maybe I could see why... I sit up straighter. Wait. All I hear is her voice. Should I look outside? And I do. I look out the window and see it. The birds had stopped chirping. They're listening to her. Just like they listened to her father.

With wide, curious eyes and a dropped jaw, I turn back to listen and watch her finish the song. She sings the last line then looks at all of use, smiling wide and proud and we all clap for her.

Right there, right then, I realize I'm a goner. Just like her mother.

For the rest of the day, I try to work up the nerve to talk to her. Every time I try, I stop myself or someone else comes to talk to me. I really want to talk to her though. Really badly. Why can't I get myself to do it?

Class is dismissed and my father is waiting outside for me. I run over to him and yank him down to my level. "What is it, Peeta?", he asks, guffawing.

I scan the area for her and find her, with who I'm guessing is her father, and point. "You were right! She sang today and the birds stopped to listen to her! I swear! I swear they were chirping before then the weren't when she was singing!" I drop my hand and sigh. "I'm in love with her."

He musses my hair, "Of course you are, Peeta."

"No really. I am. I'm in love with Katniss Everdeen."