A braid.

No, make that two.

Two braids dangle back and forth, following the jumpy movements of the girl. She's twirling round and around in front of grown up who could be her daddy. Her dress flows with her movements. I don't like the dress too much. It's weird with its lines that go up and down and left and right. I think my mom called it pu-lad. Now that daddy pointed her out among all the others, I can't take my eyes off her. It's certainly not because she's breathtakingly pretty though. Well, she is cute but I've seen a lot of prettier girls in town. Maybe it's because in the sea of kids like me, she's the only one I know; er...I feel like I know.

It's the first day of kindergarten and all the parents went back to home or to work. After all, in a town like this, we need every penny we can scrape up. At least that's what mommy says after spanking my oldest brother for spilling a cup of flour.

Daddy seated me in the front. He said that if I sat here the teacher would know me right away except I don't see the good in that. I didn't tell daddy of course. Big brother told me that I shouldn't question our parents too much especially mom. If I did, I shouldn't say them out loud. I took his advice by heart even though I see him answering daddy back. Good thing daddy is nice, maybe too nice. Mommy, on the other hand, well, we avoid talking to her as much as we can.

So there I sat in the front, looking up at the teacher because she is too tall. They should give us taller seats so we can at least see the face of the teacher. I decide to call her Miss. She has a longer name except I didn't hear because I was thinking of tall chairs. Anyway, she asks us if we know the alfabet and I'm glad she did because big brother taught me that two days ago. He told me if I sounded smart, girls would come to me. I don't understand why I need to, as he puts it, "impress the ladies" because oldest brother says I am too young for girls. I wonder why I am too young for girls. Could you be too old for girls? I didn't ask them though because I got used to not questioning people.

The teacher taps my head suddenly, bringing me back to class. She asks me if I know all the letters and I say yes. I stand in my place and begin to recite, "A, B, C, D, G, E, R, Q..." The teacher then hurriedly applauds me and says good job. I sit back in my chair and think that it was unfair of her to not let me finish. I catch a glimpse of her looking at me as if I am interesting. She seats three chairs to my right. I stare back at her hard. Daddy says it's rude to stare and that you should stare at the person staring at you so that the person knows that you know the person is staring at you. I had to memorize those words before I could ask oldest brother what it meant. Point is, when you stare at them back, they'll stop staring. They get all shy and stuff. I stare and stare but she isn't looking away. Instead she smiles and even giggles a little before looking back at the teacher. I just realized that she had grey eyes. That proves she comes from the Seam.

She's a strange Seam person though. Most of the Seam kids aren't as giggly as her. They look sad and hungry whenever I see them. They pass by the bakery and look at the cakes and cupcakes by the window. Either they want to eat the cake or they like the little crooked flower cookies I make. The kids from town aren't as sad as the Seam kids. In fact we play a lot and laugh and giggle. That must mean we are happy, right?

I barely notice the teacher say we're going to learn about the traditional songs of District 12. She turns her back on us as she shuffles the papers on her desk. One paper drops to the floor. It's filled with dots and lines. I laugh to myself. The teacher doesn't know how to write properly. Even I can write my name. P-E-E-T-A.

I try to pick up the paper but the wind keeps blowing it farther away. After a while, I manage to catch it. Then I notice another hand holding onto it. Definitely not my hand. My skin is fair. The other hand is olive-ish. I look up to the owner of the hand and almost jump back to see it's her.

"Is this yours?" she asks. "I wanted to draw a flower, a Katniss, to test out the dusty old crayons but since you got to it first, you can have it." She whispers in a disappointed yet at the same time friendly tone.

"It's not mine. It's the teacher's." I whisper back.

"Then, you can give it back to Miss." She pushes the paper to me and walks back to her chair.

She looks at her dress before sitting down. She waves and smiles shortly at me, and points at the teacher. I turn back and pull on the end of Miss' shirt and show her the paper. She pats me on the head and tells me that I did a good job. I see the girl giving me a thumbs up in approval. I smile back and go back to my seat.

"So, who hear knows the Valley song?" asks Miss.

In the corner of my eyes, I see the girl raise her right hand up. This reminds me, daddy says if I know the answer to the teacher's question, I should raise one of my hands. I was trying to remember which hand I should raise when the teacher asked her name. I lean closer even though I am already at the edge of me seat. She opens her mouth and in a clear voice says, "Katniss. My name is Katniss Everdeen."

Katniss. Katniss Everdeen.

"Well, Katniss, stand up on this stool and sing for us with all your might!" The teacher tells her.

When she opens her mouth again, a soft, gentle melody comes out. The sound is nice and fills the room. Her voice breaks a little when she wants to make it high but can't quite reach it. It's still captivating though. When I look at the window, I am not the least bit surprised to see the birds outside standing still on the branches of the tree. They know good music when they hear one. I return my gaze to Katniss and let her voice draw me in.

For one moment, the sun outside shines brighter, lighting up Katniss' body. She looks as if she is bathing in light. Her hair is a pretty dark black. Her eyes, the gentlest ones I have ever seen. She is beautiful after all. I guess the more you look at a person, and I mean really really look at a person, they become prettier.

Even after she finishes her song, the sound of her voice keeps echoing in my head. I clap as loud as I can when I see others clap too. I clap harder when the clapping becomes louder because I can't let the other kids beat me. Katniss notices my excited clapping and smiles.

I freeze as does my heart. She looks away and beams at Miss. Slowly, my heart feels like it's beating again but this time it's beating faster. An electric spark tickles my spine and though it's weird and unknown, I like the feeling.

This is what they must call atraktion.

I don't think it's love though. Love is such a strong word and I barely even know her. But one thing I am sure of is that I am enraptured by her.

I realize then and there that I have a tiny crush on Katniss Everdeen. I'm not embarrassed to admit it because it's only a crush. Nothing much is going to come out of it, Right?

A/N:

There you go, my first published fanfic. I know some of you may think that Katniss is out of character but I always imagined her to be a cheerful child and became the Katniss we know because of the death of her father. It was hard to write this, in a way, because I had to be careful to use small vocabulary but, as you can see, I failed. Oh well. You may notice that Peeta gets distracted easily but weren't we all when we were younger? I actually like the image I painted of little Peeta. I think he is freaking adorable; both as a child and as a man. Yes, a MAN.

And, if it isn't obvious, I meant to misspell some words to make it seem like a child wrote it... Then again, I am childish...

Reviews and constructive criticism are strongly encouraged. No baseless or irrational hate please :)