Prim's POV
We played in the Meadow, my brother and I. As I'm chased by my brother across the field of flowers, I notice as I often do, my mother peaking at us through the window. And, as is usual, she wears an expression somewhere between sorrow, grief and triumph. I stopped, and Gale runs smack into me. We tumble and one of his stubby toddler legs has somehow ended up behind my neck.
"Ouch, Prim! What did you do that for?"
I don't answer; he's too young to join me on my suddenly determined quest.
" Where's Dad?"
"At the bakery I think. Why?"
"Oh! Uhhhh…. I wanted to know if he was almost done with his painting, would you mind running down there and asking him?"
"Sure! Maybe I can get him to bring home some cheese buns! I love those."
And he was off, his golden hair swinging with each stride he took. I let out a sigh. Maybe it would be best if he got some cheese buns. I didn't know what the answer to my question would be. But I figured it wouldn't be a bad thing to have around some of Mother's favorite comfort food.
As I walk into our home, the very first thing I see is my Mother, eyes flickering quickly across a page in her book. The only thing I know about this book is that my mother and dad wrote it when they were young. Gale and I weren't allowed to touch it.
I let go of the front door, letting it slam behind me. Mother quickly drops her book, as if its burst into flames. I stroll towards her, pretending I don't notice. Without an introduction I slowly sit down on the sofa next to her. We sit there for a few minutes, not speaking. I don't know how to begin. Luckily, it seems I don't have to.
"You saw me watching you today didn't you?"
"Yes." I say.
"How old are you?"
I'm taken by surprise. Surely she knows how old I am? Shouldn't parents keep track of these kinds of things?
"Twelve," I reply. "Why?"
She doesn't say a thing, but responds to my answer with a sharp intake of breath.
"That's how old my sister was. When she was drawn in the reaping."