Ghost (A 'The Hunger Games' Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Two

It was exactly one month before Reaping Day, when every child aging from twelve to eighteen would gather in front of the Hall of Justice and wait anxiously for District 12's Capitol representative, Effie Trinket -a woman with more wigs than brain-cells- to draw two names of children that would be sent to their deaths in an arena filled with terrors. Ghost wasn't exactly bursting with joy on that matter, considering the fact that her name was in the pot over twenty times for tessarae. She never even kept the extra food given to her for the ultimate risk to her life, Ghost would always give it away to the poor or Joseph.

Then the crimson sun had completely disappeared beyond the horizon, Ghost took her bag from its spot on the wall, nodded her 'farewell' to Mr.Jennings, and exited the small beat-up building. By this late hour of the night, workers in the mines and employees from the local shops had already gone home. 'Good', Ghost thought. 'Less people to gape and gawk at me like the wordless freak I am.'

The usual evening lights that flickered in house windows down the road were non-existent, except for a faint glow coming from the window on the second floor of the bakery. A candle resting on a bedroom window-pane.

Ghost didn't know very much about the family that ran the bakery, except that the youngest of the baker's sons was the same age as her and his mother was the cruelest viper anyone had the utter misfortune to meet. But the boy was kind, charming even. Peeta was his name. Peeta Mellark. And Ghost knew him mainly for two reasons.

The first reason was because he had been kind enough and concerned enough for the new orphan who lived only a few houses down from his own to bake her an entire dozen of frosted sugar-cookies the day after the massacre in front of her home. She treasured those sugar-cookies like precious gold, always admiring the beautiful blue flowers that covered the very top of the delicious sweets before eating the temporary delicacy.

The second reason was a little more personal.

Ghost could easily recall the enormous crush she had had on him for the longest time. Ever since first grade, in fact. His beautiful eyes and kind personality were just too much to resist, she just couldn't help herself. Peeta was the complete and total package. But she knew better than to get her hopes up when it came to Peeta. And guys in general.

No one liked her, that much was obvious. Any smart guy would know better than to even consider her as an applicant for that special role in their lives. Ghost knew that she had an ocean-full of flaws, one major one being the fact that she couldn't talk. And relationships usually required a large amount of communication. Another flaw was that she wasn't the prettiest girl, either. Her murky blue eyes, pig-like nose, and cracked lips weren't exactly something that made the boys gasp. Well, they gasped, but for all the wrong reasons.

For a large portion of her life, Ghost felt like she was ugly. Just a freak of nature that no one cared about. Rarely did she ever feel like she mattered, but there were a few occasions when she'd look in the mirror and see someone worth her breath. And usually that happened after a run-in with Mr. Peeta Mellark.

There were some times where she;d see Peeta in the bakery window across the street from the library, putting bread and cakes out on display. She'd watch him work for a few minutes, staring silently in admiration of the strong boy while she sat in her comfy red chair, a book in her lap and open to a random page. Sometimes, if she was lucky, he'd catch her watching him and smile. Peeta would wave and her face would turn the darkest shade of red, but she'd return the grin then quickly hurry back to her novel.

For two whole seconds, she gazed up at the window and wondered if that bedroom belonged to him. Maybe he was in there right then, sitting on his bed and thinking or getting ready to go to sleep. Could he be standing just out of eyesight, waiting for her to get off work just so that he could catch a fleeting glimpse-