Prim's Birthday
by Sapphire16

I wake up and Katniss isn't there. I try not to panic, but it isn't going well. Every nightmare involves me waking up alone and finding out that she died in the Hunger Games or a mutt ripped her apart or other things that if I go into detail about they are sure to show up tonight.

But this is real life, not a dream, so I force myself to calm down and start searching the house. She's not in the kitchen, the bathroom, did she go out hunting? But then I look out the window and see her in the gardens.

A wave of relief splashes over me and I'm stupidly smiling when I go out to meet her. I don't notice or question what exactly it is that she's doing out there. I should've though.

It isn't until I step outside that I realize something is wrong. Katniss is holding her knees into her with her head down. I still don't get it. I should've understood right away, I'm usually good with these things, but still I don't.

She lifts her head up to look at me and I see tears streaming down her face. She isn't one to randomly cry, despite our tragic past. Most days she just lives in the moment because if she stops to think for a second Prim and Gale and everything that went wrong will come back. So she just avoids the issue all together. The only times I've really seen her cry were as we were filling in the book.

But then I remember. I don't know why I didn't understand before, but it suddenly all made sense and I can't believe how stupid I was not to know before hand. Why didn't I keep track of the days?

All it took was a simple glance around the garden and suddenly things clicked. She is sitting by the primroses that we had planted. And maybe Katniss isn't one for symbolism, but I bet it reminded her of her. Prim. Her birthday. She would have turned 16 years old today.

Katniss uncurls from her ball and starts to finger one of the primrose petals.

"She was going to be 16 today," she nearly whispers, echoing my thoughts. I try to think back on my scant repertoire of memories of Prim. There really aren't many. I wish I had more. I remember her name being called. I remember the desperation in Katniss's voice as she volunteered. She was trying to save Prim's life. But Prim died anyway. It's a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, one that burns my nose and chokes my throat. I can't stand it, but I imagine it to be magnified many times for Katniss, for the torture President Snow is still inflicting upon her even in his death. It's not fair, but we can't do anything about it.

I think back to how today is her birthday. Today Prim is turning 16 years old. I wonder if she would've had a boyfriends, if she would've trained to be a doctor like her mother. And that horrible feeling comes back that we will never know, because her future was ripped away from her at the hands of President Snow.

"Let's make her a birthday cake," I decide. We aren't going to let her memory go. Maybe it's a bad idea, like rubbing salt in a wound, and maybe it isn't right for Katniss to go on treating her like she's still alive and not dead, but maybe it could be a good thing too. I know that it is something that I want to do for her, and I know that Katniss can't stand not doing something.

Katniss nods in reply, and we walk inside. While I change clothes and get the ingredients out for a cake, Katniss washes her face and picks some primroses to pass the time.

Katniss gets to work measuring and I mix the ingredients together. While I am working on the more complicated parts of it, Katniss starts the frosting. We have a system worked out for those rare occasions that we bake together.

I love how baking clears my head, how it makes order and sense out of the chaos and confusion. The tiny details, the little tasks I can focus on. If I just think about making the cake look perfect, all my other worries float away, if only just while I am baking. It helps; it helped a lot after I was hijacked, and it still helps to this day.

When both layers are in the oven, Katniss and I start to clean up. All while we are working it is dead silent in our kitchen. When the cake comes out we decorate in the same silence. I snip on the stems of the primrose flowers and tell Katniss where to put them. The finished cake looks beautiful, and we cover it and set it out in our window.

"It was Gale," Katniss says, and I frown in confusion. What is she talking about? "Gale was the one who designed the bomb with Beetee. President Snow had no hovercrafts left, the Rebels dropped the bombs and Gale designed it and he knows." It takes a moment to sink in, but then more mysteries are solved. That was why Gale left, I finish silently to myself. I can't imagine Gale doing that, I keep denying it in my head. Maybe it was Beetee, maybe he tried to stop them from dropping it, but no matter how many excuses I make in my head it doesn't change what Katniss believes, and she believes that Gale murdered her little sister.

I put my arm around her shoulders and lead her upstairs. It's getting dark outside and it's always good to end a bad day early.

Sitting in the window as we sleep is a gorgeous double layer vanilla cake with white frost and pink primroses and the words piped in pink icing: Happy 16th Birthday Prim!

A/N: I know that I opened an account and then didn't write anything for months afterwards, but I guess I was just a little nervous that my stuff wasn't good enough. That and I was busy with school and stuff. This fic is in honor of the Hunger Games movie that is coming out tomorrow! I am very excited to see it and I am assuming that you are too since you are reading a Hunger Games fic. At the moment I am also working on another Hunger Games multi-chaptered fic also. Please review to let me know what you think!

EDIT: Since I just added another fic, I decided to update this one to fix some late spotted spelling and grammar issues.