One-Shots (The Hunger Games)

One Shot 8

Peeta's POV

Imagine a world where you have a ridiculously huge crush on a girl in your math class. She sits in front of you and and you just sit their wondering what her back looks like without the layers of clothing covering it. Then the next day, as if she read your mind, she comes to school with a back-bearing tank top. You can only see the top part, but it's probably more than you'll ever see. Well then, you just had a trip in my world.

I walk to my math class with a far too quick pace. I'm not exited to learn about stupid numbers and letters and all that junk, however I do get to stare at Katniss Everdeen's hair. It's not as amazing as her face, but I can work with it.

When I step into the classroom, Katniss is talking to a tall, broad-shouldered blond. Jealousy bubbles up in me and I clench my books hard enough to hear a small crack. Not that the crack was necessarily audible, I just felt it. Maybe I could have heard it if Katniss wasn't laughing to tears about some stupid joke Cato made.

I speedily make my way to my seat and sit down with a loud thud. I glare at Cato in hope that he will stop, but he doesn't even acknowledge me. I repeatedly tap my pen on the desk until a blonde sitting behind me annoyingly asks me to stop.

The bell rings, signaling the last period is starting, but Mr. Abernathy has a way of getting drunk in his prior lessons, so he always forgets he has to teach us. He usually comes stumbling in after 5 minutes or so. Surprisingly enough, he actually saunters in on time today, though none of the students notice him.

"E'rybody listen!" Mr. Abernathy barks. "I graded your tests so sit down or you're not gettin' them!"

Everybody, including Katniss, scrambles to their seats and Mr. Abernathy starts handing out the test. The dramatic sighs and groans from kids who receive their tests make me nervous. I'm not bad at math, but I'm not as good at it as I am at English.

When Katniss receives her test sighs quietly and fumbles with the corner of her paper. I know she's never been good at math, she's been struggling ever since freshman year. I would offer her help, but I never had the guts to say anything.

Mr. Abernathy stops at my table to give me a sloppy smile and says, "Good job, boy." He sets the paper down and a 93 is messily written with red ink. I smile back at him. Ever since Katniss started sitting in front of me I've been trouble paying attention in class. I was determined not to mess this test up, so I stayed up all night studying. It's good to know that paid off. I drank a lot of RedBull that night to keep myself awake.

We discuss the test and turns out Mr. Abernathy counted on of my correct answers wrong so my grade gets cranked up to a 95. While discussing, Katniss and Cato throw little papers at each other and I have a hard time not standing up, grabbing the papers, and reading what's written on them.

"You two!" Mr. Abernathy suddenly growls, pointing at Katniss and Cato. "Detention in room 72. You're all so rotten, all the seniors filled up one classroom for detention!"

This can't be good. I've been in detention before and since there are so many kids who have detention, you can't really talk alone with all the commotion around you. But if Cato and Katniss are alone, well who knows what will happen?

I frantically try and think of solution, but I know that there really is only one. Get detention too. But how? Mr. Abernathy likes me and won't easily give me detention. I need to do something that another teacher would sent me to the principal for.

I look in my bag and find a half full Coca Cola bottle. I hesitate doing what I'm about to. It's not only going to cost me a free afternoon, but is also going to bother other kids and their shoes. I choose doing it anyway and grab the bottle from my bag. I unscrew the cap and take a sip. Only this would normally earn myself a detention, but like I said, this is Mr. Abernathy's class and he doesn't give a damn. I'm about to "accidentally" drop it on the ground, when my hand loses its grip on the bottle, and instead of falling on the ground, it hits Katniss' head, pouring Coke all over her.

She gasps audibly and I'm pretty sure I do to. So does the whole class, expect for Mr. Abernathy who just stops scribbling on the blackboard and rubs his temples.

I'm so embarrassed and stunned that I can't even mutter a simple apology. Heat rushes to my face and I'm sure I'm as red as a beet. I just want the ground to swallow me up. Even more shame seizes up in me when she turns around very slowly. Her glare could kill me or bury me alive.

"What was that for?" Ire is laced in her tone and I have a hard time not crying, because I really feel like doing so. The scariest part is that she doesn't raise her voice. In fact, her voice comes out in a low, hoarse whisper that sends shivers down my spine.

The whole classroom is dead silent as the students prepare for my answer.

"I-I, I'm s-so sorry." My voice cracks, but that is the least of my concerns. "I d-didn't mean, uhm-"

"Goddamnit. Mellark, go help her get cleaned up at Paylor and you have detention. Everdeen, forget yours." Mr. Abernathy shakes his head, making his long blond locks toss around his head.

I awkwardly stand up, though Katniss rises quickly with a forceful push of her chair that clatters against my desk. Her action makes me wince and as I walk past Cato, he spits, "Jerk."

As we walk down the hallway I have a hard time keeping up with her brisk pace. I'm not used to being at loss of words, but it's the effect she has on me. And this scenario, of course.

I clear my through and say what anybody else would say. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to-"

She scoffs, turning around and making me stop in my tracks. "Just shut the hell up."

"Okay, sorry." I mumble, focusing my gaze on my sneakers.

"And quit saying you're sorry. That's not gonna get me cleaned up, isn't it?" She jeers.

I shake my head. "No, sorry. I mean, no. Just no."

She rolls her eyes and continues walking. I'm pretty sure she's walking faster than before, and at one point I have to jog a bit not the lose her. We finally reach Paylor, who is our school's concierge.

"Did you two break up or something?" Paylor suddenly asks while handing Katniss a towel.

"No! He's just stupid!" She scorns.

"Calm down, there's no need for names." Paylor warns.

"She's right, though." I say, not quite meeting her eyes. "I am."

After that, Paylor offers Katniss a clean and dry shirt, but she declines it, stating it won't be long till school ends. We thank her and start making our way back to the classroom. This time, she isn't practically running away from me.

"Listen," I say after having scraped up enough courage to say something. "I know you don't want me to say I'm sorry, but I still am. I just-" I sigh before continuing. "I really like you and I didn't want you to have detention alone with a jerk like Cato."

"Yeah, well, you're the jerk that spilled soda all over me. I don't take that as a sign that you like me. " She pushes a damp strand of hair from her face.

"I do. Trust me." I smile sheepishly.

"Whatever, at least your got me out of detention."

"True. So," I run my fingers through my hair. "Is there any chance we could hang out after detention?"

"Are you serious? Haven't you realized I still smell like Coke?" She gives me an incredulous look.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I promise I won't spill soda on you again." I chuckle softly.

"Not in a million years." She scoffs.

And that's the first ever conversation I had with my wife.