One Shot, Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

"Mother?" I ask her, but I should have thought first, there was no possible way my mother would let me touch icing.

"Yes." I hear her cold hearted reply, there's no turning back now."Can I, Can I please use the icing?" I eventually let out, every word seems to pass through my mother's ears like a hatred death. I shouldn't have been surprised when I heard her answer, it was only to be expected. "No. Peeta no, if you think you can use icing- when you burn half our bread every day. There is just no way we can sacrifice more of our pay." My mother finally cold heartily answers.

"But I am good at icing. Better than bread." I quickly mumble by complete accident, it takes me moments to realize my mistake when a hard cold wooden spoon gets smashed into my forehead, "How dare you question your own mother's authority. Now go get ready for school. Your brothers have already left unlike you." She hisses at me like a mutt, I do not understand how I can be related to her. I run to my shared room with my second youngest brother and search everywhere for my favourite orange t-shirt.

It seems my brother found its hiding place, I growl with anger. Instead in the end, I grab a black shirt and my blue pants. After I have changed I quickly brush my teeth and comb my hair then head out of the door with my only notebook for drawing, making sure to sneak a pencil on the way out. "Ahem, Peeta? Do you really think taking your only prized possession to school is a good idea?" My father stops me on the way out. "Please Dad, I am going to be late. Please?" I beg him literally on my knees.

"Sigh, in that case I better take you. Come along." He finally replies, he grabs my hand; but not hard like my mother does, more in a firm way but it doesn't hurt. "Why does mother hate me?" I whisper to him once we are nearly at school.

"Peeta, she doesn't hate you, I suppose you just remind her of someone." My farther replies with a neutral expression. "But Dad, I am not that person- so why hate myself for someone I am not?" I quickly reply; but I never hear a response from my father. None at all.

"I can't believe it." He suddenly says, I look up to him with a confused expression on my face,

"I am not going to point her out, that's rude Peeta; never point at people. But look for the girl with tan olive skin and dark hair plaited in two braids." He finally replies, I find the girl with tan olive skin and two braids, her face is slightly pointed to, but only slightly. "Yes?" I reply.

"I wanted to marry her mother, but she married a coal miner instead." My father says, I stand there in shock for a very long time. Her mother would rather marry a coal miner instead of a baker? "Why?" I finally whisper shaken to reality.

"Because, when he sang- the birds stopped and listened. She was captured by his voice." He replies, I shake my head in disbelief.

"Come on, go wait in the line." My father continues, I wave goodbye and in the line and I realize it is alphabetical order. The girl with the braids is in the front, she turns around but I don't look away; it's like she sees straight through me.

"Assembly everyone, behave." The teacher says, we all go in a single line into the hall, as first years we sit straight at the front, I get butterflies thinking about having to perform on the huge stage when I am older like my brothers.

"Does anyone know The Valley Song?" The teacher on the stage asks, I shake my head without meaning to; I have never heard the song.

"I have." I turn to see the girl, everyone falls silent and we can hear birds singing outside.

"Would you please sing it for us?" The teacher asks her, she seems a bit uncomfortable but she still gets up and heads to the stage, I feel anxious for her; instead of waiting till she's older, she has to do it right now. I swear my heart stops a beat as she sits on the stool, she crosses her legs and blinks once before starting. As soon as she does I can't take my eyes of the girl in the plaited red dress. None of us can hear the birds, they fall silent for her like they do for her farther. My eyes widen in realization, she's captured me like her mother. I suddenly get very nervous and start playing with my thumbs, my face fells so hot and I know it is bright red; she doesn't notice but the others around me sure do.

"Thank you, what is your name?" The teacher asks her, she faces the audience. "Katniss Everdeen." Her voice echo's the room and I am stuck for words, Katniss Everdeen; what a beautiful name. I am most defiantly captured like her mother, for life.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed my story. Constructive feedback welcome, no flames please. From AccioDoctorWho