Homework sucks, right? Yeah. It's the same reason why I'm not playing soccer with my friends, but trudging through the school halls looking for a math worksheet. My other option was to go home and face the consequences, and I just wasn't in the mood to see (or get hit by) Mom.

I nudge the math classroom door open, wary of it being locked. Eerily, it floats open, inviting me in. Sighing, I crouch next to the teachers desk and stick my hand underneath it. It's the only place it could've been. My hand struggles to go further, but my shoulder protests; it's size it too much for the puny desk. And that's when I hear it.

The soft plink, plink of the highest notes on a piano. And then a voice, a girl's voice, spreading over the school. I rise slowly; only one girl can sing like that. One girl who I've been madly in love with for most of my life. Sure, we haven't really spoken, but she's gorgeous, and talented, and strong, and independent, and fierce, and caring, and loyal, and so many other things. Katniss Everdeen is standing in the music room, singing.

I haven't heard her sing solo since kindergarten, and we're thirteen now, so with a voice like that, it's impressive. I know that before her dad died, she'd been in the chorus, but since then? She spends all of her time hunting with-my face twists into the expression you get from drinking sour milk-Gale Hawthorne. He's two years older than Katniss and I, and spends all his time with her. But where is he now? I know we're alone in the school; I didn't hear anyone and I've been in here a while. Peeta, I tell myself. Are you ready to finally talk to Katniss? Not just throw bread at her, but really talk to her? Hell yes. Hell yes I am.

After much deliberation, I decide that the best way to approach this is a casual run-in. I'll be looking for my homework, just in the music room. I had music last; I thought my worksheet might have slipped out of my bag.

I work my way into the music room, than act surprised. "Oh! I'm sorry, I, uh, didn't know anyone was in here. You're Katniss, right?" Recognition flashes through her eyes, and I know she's thinking about me, and the bread, and my mom. I almost expect her to say something regarding that night, but instead she nods.

"Yeah. And you're the baker. P- Pe- I'm sorry, I don't know your name..." Color steadily rises in my cheeks, but I cool them. There's a lot of people in this school. She doesn't have to memorize everyone's names. And talking is good, right?

"Peeta. We have math together; I was just looking for my worksheet." I run my eyes over the piano, and how she's perched on the bench. My eyes may wander from the black, wooden legs of the instrument to hers a few times, but Jesus, I'm thirteen! I'm hormonal and stuff. "Were you singing?" Oh, God. I blew it. I wasn't supposed to hear her. Think, idiot, think!

"No, no, I was just listening... to a cd. My sister really wants a cd player... and I was..." I raise my eyebrows at her as she fabricates an allibi. "Testing them. You know, the, uh, sound... To see if it was worth saving for one." She tries to shrug nonchalantly, and I force down a chuckle.

"So, what cd are you listening too?"

"Does it really matter?" She spins around from her school bag, where she was stationed. "Look, I don't know if you want anything for... for the bread, but even now I can't afford to give anything to you..." I want you, I think to myself.

"Of course not, never. That was a favor, just a favor. I don't need anything. I'd just like to know what cd you were listening to. That's all." She rolls her eyes.

"Fine. Alright, here's the cd." She jabs the eject button with her finger, and throws up the cd. It's a cello cd. I nod unbelievingly, and let out a bark of laughter, surprising myself. She shakes her head, and makes this face like damn it! and it's all I can do not to kiss her.

"Hey, if you were singing... I already know you can sing. You're really good. You should do it more often..." My voice fades out as her glare intensifies.

"See, that's the problem with townies. They seem to think that everyone just has time to do all those things they want to do, and all those things that will entertain everyone else. But I have a sister, and a mother to take care of, and unlike you, I can't do that by drawing flowers on over-priced cakes!" I stare at her, a bit of hurt flashing in my eyes. I see regret in her posture as her shoulders slump, and she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. I decide that I have to be the one to break the silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd take it like that. I just meant that you're really talented, and you're voice is amazing." I turn to leave, my mission a failure, but I hear something.

"Peeta!" I turn around hopefully. "Um, I already give my family food, and I don't need a degree to tell me that. You can have my worksheet, if you want. I won't have time to actually do it, anyways." She trots over to me and places the paper in my hand. Our skin brushes for an instant, and the room temperature goes up like, 100 degrees. "You're talented too, you know. My sister loves your cakes." I know that that's the only apology I'm going to get, because she really believes those things about the town, but my heart is still jumping, and fireworks still explode in my belly.

"Catnip, you ready to go?" We both spin around, and see Gale, standing there in the door way. Damn, that guy is creepy quiet. And fast. Plus, Catnip? Really? My mind molds the affectionate nickname into a disgusting, degrading insult. But it actually is a cute name for her, I think, as she blushes.

"Yeah, let me grab my stuff." She nods to me, and strides to her backpack. Swinging it across her body she swerves around Gale, who just stares at me, something akin to jealousy in his eyes. After about thirty seconds that feel like a lifetime, he tip-toes away, still silent.

I sigh, and go to follow them out of the school, when I see a piece of paper flipping under the leg of a seat. Curiously, I clutch it. My math homework. I have two now. Funny how Katniss always gives me more.