Catching Fire - Peeta's POV

Chapter Two - One Braid

It was a horribly rainy day. I could hear every drop that hit the ceiling, and it created a chorus. I wanted to hide under the table, to make the noise diminish. But Ma forced me to continue working. As I was carrying the trays, Ma heard ruffling by the dumpsters. She went to sort it out, leaving me to finish the days work.

"What was it?" I asked, hopefully no causing a beating.

"The oldest Everdeen. I've had enough of these people rummaging through our trash. Just give her to a community home, for God's sake." Community home? Katniss in a community home? I can't imagine it - all of her spirit would be sucked away by the hopeless children. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. It's Katniss, who resides to a lamp post that never worked. She splashes into a small puddle, but doesn't seem to mind. Her cheekbones are sharp, the rest of her face almost carved out. I could tell she was going to die. Either from pneumonia or simply starve. But she was doing so well, I heard! She used the money wisely, she sold Prim's goats milk. On paper, she was going to survive just fine.

I grab the bread loaf, perfectly cooked, and try to toss it out the window. Instead, Ma snatches it.

"Well done, Peeta. Well done loaf." I needed to find a way to get the bread for her.

I drop another loaf on the floor. Maybe Ma will deem it dirty enough to give to her.

But years by her dreadful side, I know she doesn't care enough to sacrifice a single breadcrumb.

I am lost in ideas to help, scattering my brain. I wasn't paying attention, when I accidentally burn a batch. Burned.

"Ma! I burnt some!"

"Oh, you stupid boy! Clean the oven and then feed it to the pigs." I do so, wiping down the hot surfaces as quickly as possible, before I scooped up the loaves and left. Standing underneath the small roof outside, I threw two, three, four loaves to the pig pen. Why? I should give all of them to Katniss!

I sneaked a look at Katniss, who seems mesmorised by the food. As sneakily as I could, I tossed the final loaf to Katniss, where it lands on the rubble. Staring at it, she finally decided to take it. Spontaneously, she picked the only dandelion in sight, before stuffing it down her hunters coat, and hurrying home.

"Peeta! I saw that! How stupid do you think I am?" Here comes Ma.

"She was starving, Ma! She could've died! And then Prim and her mother would've died, too!"

"Do you think I really care? It's enough working six days a week to keep my family fed. I don't care if some stupid girl dies because she's hungry. Stupid girls die everyday in this district! And don't you answer back to me!" She slapped my on the cheek, hard, before going inside. That wasn't such a bad beating.

But she returned with my fathers belt. She grabbed a ball of my shirt, and pulled me inside, where she closed the shutters and whipped.

Every slash she took, was another jolt of pain. The only thing that covered my screams was the ever-pouring rain.

That night I couldn't wait to go to school. To make sure the Everdeens' were alive. If they hadn't, I had taken a beating for nothing.

It was probably the hardest night, the hardest night before I was reaped for the Games. I slept flat on my stomach, as to not irritate the raw skin on my back. It hurt more that morning, aching every time it twisted or turned. Ma made me wear a long shirt to cover it, but I don't think she saw the fresh scar that peeked out of my collar.

Katniss wasn't back to normal. Her cheeks were still hollow, but she smiled.

I didn't want her to come back, though. I cared about her, about anyone who was on the brink of starvation. But I don't think I could take another one of Ma's beatings again. Who knows how brutal her next one would be.

After school, when she picked up Prim, I noticed her hairstyle. It was one braid.

The day before at the bakery, it was two. It made her look like a poor district girl. But with her hair intricately in one plait, along the side of her head and finally resting on her shoulder, she looked like a survivor.

A true survivor.