Chapter 2: Katniss


June 14, 2007

"PRIM! TURN YOUR GODDAMN MUSIC DOWN!" I yell over the sickly bubblegum pop music filtering through my sister's closed door. When there's no answer, I turn the doorknob and poke my head inside. My sister lies stretched out on her stomach on her bed, humming along to the music. Our dog Lady lifts her head to look at me from her spot at my sister's feet.

"Prim!" I yell again.

She jumps, startled, hastily shoving the pink book she'd been writing in under her pillow, but not before I see. "Oh my GOD, Katniss! Don't you know how to knock?" Lucky for her, I'm not the kind of person who gives a damn what her younger sister writes in her diary.

I roll my eyes at her. "I did knock, but you didn't answer. You need to turn your music down. Mom is sleeping."

Letting out an exaggerated sigh of frustration, she climbs off her bed and turns a knob on the top of her old CD player. The sound of girly pop subsides slightly, just enough that I can hear myself think again.

"Thank you," I say. "Are you ready to go for a walk?" At the word "walk", Lady's tail starts to wag frantically, thumping rhythmically against the mattress.

Prim sighs again, looking at her alarm clock on the bedside table. "Do I have to?" she whines. "Rory's supposed to call me later and I don't want to miss it!"

"The Hawthornes live down the street and we see them all the time. Lady's your dog and you need to walk her." I cross my arms over my chest. No way I'm letting her get out of walking the dog again.

"Ugh, fine! Then will you leave me alone?"

Jesus, when did she turn into a teenager? "Whatever, Prim. Just hurry up, if you want to talk to Rory and be on time for Scouts tonight."

Lady follows me out of Prim's door and down the stairs to sit with barely contained excitement by the door while I pull on my shoes and hook up her leash. She looks up at me with pleading eyes, shifting eagerly from paw to paw. She lets out a pitiful whine and I roll my eyes.

"Don't look at me, it's your owner we're waiting for." I watch the stairs, willing my sister to hurry her ass up before we run out of time. "C'mon, Prim," I mutter.

Finally she comes down the stairs from her room, stomping altogether too loudly on the steps. I take a deep breath and decide not to waste my breath on scolding her, choosing instead to wait impatiently as she steps into her shoes. I hand her Lady's leash, barely managing not to comment on the ridiculous pink ribbon she's used to tie back her blonde hair into a ponytail. She looks like a teenaged Barbie doll.

We walk our regular route. It's a beautiful, warm day, and I fill my lungs with the sweet summer air. I feel my face break into a smile of it's own accord. I look across at Prim - she's almost as tall as me, now - and see that she's grinning, too, all teenage angst gone from her face and replaced with the sweetness that is purely Prim.

The ribbon in her hair isn't ridiculous anymore. Now it suits her.

We don't make it very far before we're sweating. Thank goodness there's a breeze. Prim starts to chatter - about Rory, about her school friends, about the neighbors, about her favorite teacher, Ms. Cresta. Lady trots happily along between and in front of us, tongue lolling from the side of her smiling mouth.

As we pass the convenience store, an idea strikes me. I reach out and grab Prim's arm to stop her.

"I just remembered that I need to grab something in here. Just wait out here with Lady, okay?"

The smile drops off her face. "Katniiiiiss!" she whines. "Rory's going to be calling later!"

I roll my eyes. "I won't be long, I promise."

I duck into the store, ignoring her when she shouts after me, "If you make me miss Rory..."

"You'll what?" I mutter under my breath, biting the inside of my cheek to hide my smile. Despite her newfound teenaged attitude, Prim's sweet to her very core, and everyone knows it. The worst thing she could ever do is cry at me.

When I come out with two double ice cream cones, her face splits into that sweet Prim smile again. I hand her the one from my left hand, which holds one scoop of Cookies and Cream and one scoop of Bubblegum. Her favorites.

We can't really afford to waste money on luxuries like this, but every once in a while, I splurge. It's why I got Lady for Prim after Dad died, why I spend money we don't really have on things like ice cream, even if it means buying the cheap toilet paper this week. I do it to put a smile back on Prim's face, because she's is the one person left in the world who I'm sure I love, and I can't stand to see her anything but happy.

Seeing her grin up at me, feeling a matching smile spread across my face, makes it all worth it. I would do it again without a second thought.

Prim practically skips the rest of the way home, Lady bouncing along at her side. And when she gets to the end of the cone, she feeds the last inch, ice cream and all, to the dog.

When we get home, Prim unhooks Lady and rushes straight up to her room, the cordless phone from the kitchen in hand. "Keep it short!" I call after her up the stairs. "You've got Scouts in half an hour!" Her only answer is the sound of her bedroom door shutting behind her.

Inevitably, by the time I manage to get her off the phone with Rory, we're running late. I'm in the truck, windows rolled down, hand on the shifter and ready to put it into reverse when Prim finally comes racing out the door and jumps in. We peel out of the driveway and down the street, and by some miraculous combination of my complete disregard for speed limits, the light afternoon traffic and lucky timing of the lights, I manage to make it to the rec center only a few minutes after the meeting has started. Everyone's already gone inside; the parents have all driven off to do whatever it is parents do while their daughters are at Girl Scouts.

"I'm going to get some groceries, but I'll be back before you get out, okay?" I say, giving her pony tail a tug. She laughs, unbuckling her seatbelt and jumping out. She calls her goodbye over her shoulder at me as she runs toward the center.

Shaking my head, I put the truck back in gear and head for the grocery store. My list isn't long and I'm done early, so I take them home to put them in the fridge. When I go to head back to the center, Lady is sitting by the door, blocking my exit and giving me this pitiful look. They don't call it "puppy dog eyes" for nothing.

"Fine, you spoiled mutt," I mutter, "want to come with me to get Primmy?" and she knows she's won when I grab her leash from the hook in the closet. Her tail doesn't stop wagging the whole ride to the center to pick up Prim.

We're early and the parking lot is still fairly empty. The sun is shining, so I park on the far side of the lot near a patch of grass, and sit down with my book beside the truck. Lady sprawls out on the ground beside me and I scratch her belly absently, the handle of her leash hooked loosely around my wrist.

I'm so engrossed in my book that I don't notice the time passing until it becomes glaringly obvious that none of the parents are back to pick up their kids yet, not even the ridiculously primped and manicured blonde in her fancy SUV who looks down her nose at me every time I park the beat up old truck beside her. I glance at Dad's watch on my wrist - it's old and scuffed, but as reliable as it's original owner was before he died - and now it shows me that it's 4:27; Prim is almost half an hour late and none of the other rides have showed up yet. My stomach flip-flops uncomfortably. What the hell's going on?

Suddenly, Lady leaps to her feet beside me; her leash is instantly tight, the leather loop at the end burning my wrist. Her head snaps left and right, looking for something, I don't know what. She lifts her nose, sniffing. I can feel the tension in her body through the leash, and then she starts barking like mad, lunging at the end of her leash.

"Lady, what the hell?" I grab onto the leash with both hands and pull her close to me, wrapping my arms around her neck, struggling in vain to calm her down. I can't see anything that would explain her sudden excitement, no cat or squirrel, no Prim. "What is it girl?" She struggles against my arms, barking all the while.

The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand up, and I feel a wash of cold down my spine. I let go of Lady, her leash slipping off my limp hand as I move shakily to my feet. A strange tingle rushes over me, settling in my arm, as if someone's cold hand is resting there. Almost of it's own accord, my hand extends outward as if someone is pulling it, and I feel my breath leave my body in a whoosh.

"Prim?" I ask breathlessly, although I don't know why, and as suddenly as it came, the feeling is gone.

I fall to my knees in the grass and Lady returns to whine and lick my face, but I'm numb and I can barely feel her tongue against my skin. It's like she is licking someone else's face. My belly feels empty, hollow, and I feel suddenly and shockingly alone, as if something precious has been ripped away from me, never to return.

That was the day my sister disappeared.


January 7, 2013

"PRIM!"

I sit up in bed, my sweat soaked blankets falling down around my waist. Lady noses my hand, whining, and I reach out automatically to reassure her, even though I'm the one that could use reassuring. I draw in a shaky breath as I feel myself slowly return to the present, my body trembling with the aftershock of my dream. Blood still pours behind my eyes, ripples of the nightmare echoing forward into reality.

My throat is raw and I wonder how long I was screaming before I was able to shake myself free. I scrub a hand over my sweaty face. That was years ago, I tell myself. It's not happening now. I recite the list of details that I know to be true, a technique that one of the doctors suggested all those years ago, starting with the simplest and working toward the more complicated.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am twenty four years old. I live on Seam Street in the town of Panem. My dog is named Lady. She used to be my sister Prim's dog. Prim disappeared nearly six years ago on June 14, 2007. She is believed to be dead.

My stomach lurches painfully. My god, was it really six years ago?

After I recovered from my experience (as I came to think of it), I ran to check inside the center, only to find the sign that Prim had no doubt seen only moments after I drove off. "Girl Scouts Cancelled - June 14." The words of that sign are burned into my mind; I need only close my eyes to see them.

I found a payphone and called the police. They were skeptical at first; things like kidnappings and murders don't happen in Panem. They tried to insist that she probably went to a friend's house, or went down the street to buy a magazine and would be back soon, but I was sure I knew differently. I screamed at them until they finally listened and sent a squad car just to shut me up.

It was no use, though. I was certain she was already dead.

By the end of the list, I've convinced myself that I'm in the now, not back all those years ago with Prim, drowning in blood. I glance at the clock beside my bed, rubbing my eyes until the blurriness clears and I can see the numbers: 8:13. Not too early.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and grab the phone off my bedside table. I don't even have to look at the numbers; my hand remembers the sequence from dialing this number every single Monday morning for the past six years.

"Panem County Police Department," the drawling voice on the other end answers.

"Finnick, it's Katniss," I answer, my voice still scratchy from sleep and from screaming. I'm relieved that it's him that answers; his boss, Haymitch, is a lot more difficult to deal with, especially in the morning, what with being a smelly, surly, old drunk.

"Happy Monday, Sunshine. How'd you sleep?"

I roll my eyes, even though I know he can't see. "The way I always sleep, Finnick. Any news?"

"What, you mean, you didn't call me at" - he pauses, I assume to check the clock - "8:15 on a Monday morning just to hear my voice? I'm hurt, Katniss. Hurt. I thought after all these years we were more to each other than that."

I sigh directly into the phone so he hears. "Cut the crap, Finnick. Just tell me if there's any news about Prim's case."

The false flirty tone disappears, replaced with genuine regret. "Sorry, Katniss. Still nothing." For all his flash and flirtation, he's okay, really. I know he wishes that he had news to tell me.

When it became clear that Prim really had disappeared, the police did everything they could. Haymitch was on the case from the beginning, and Finnick joined it shortly afterwards, so I got to know them pretty well. They searched and searched, interviewed everyone who could've possibly had any involvement - even poor Rory, who wept when they talked to him. All they found was the pink ribbon from Prim's hair, miles away from the rec center. They tried. They really did.

It's just not enough.

"Okay," I answer, and the phone is halfway down to the cradle when I hear his tinny voice through the receiver yelling, "Katniss, wait!"

I bring the phone back up to my ear. "Yeah?"

"I don't have any new information that affects the case directly but I do have something to tell you," he says. I'm silent, waiting for him to go on. After an awkward pause, he continues, "There's a new guy that just started today. He's getting the grand tour from Haymitch right now."

I sigh. I don't see what this has to do with Prim. "Yeah, so?"

"So," Finnick continues, and I can almost hear that megawatt smile behind his words, "he's being assigned to look at some of the older cases, to see if he can dig up anything new. Cases like Primrose's. Fresh set of eyes, and all that."

My heart leaps at the sound of her name on his lips. They're looking at her case again... "This new guy, is he good?"

He laughs. "Well, not as good as me, but he'll do. Seriously though, I grew up with him. He's a great guy and a good cop. He's smart. Maybe he'll be able to bring a fresh take on things. If there's anything there that we missed, I'm sure he'll find it."

"Thanks, Finnick," I say. "Keep me posted."

"I always do. Take care, Katniss."

I hang up the phone carefully, my heart thumping in my ribcage as I process this information. A new cop, a new set of eyes. Finnick sounded pretty optimistic about him. I feel a strange rush of elation. Is that hope? I'd forgotten what that felt like. Six years of hope wasted will do that to a person.

Lady whines and paws at me, jolting me out of my reverie. "Okay, okay. I'm getting up." I dress in jeans and a soft, well worn t-shirt, brushing my hair and winding it into its customary braid down my back to keep it out of my face. My bedroom door creaks when I open it and I make a mental note to pick up some oil for the hinges after payday.

I glance down the hall at my mother's closed door. She hasn't stirred, not even when I screamed in my sleep. I've had this nightmare so many times that my mom doesn't even bother to ask me if I'm okay, let alone come and check on me. Then again, she barely ever does anything anymore besides go through the motions, and keeps to her room as much as I'll let her.

There are two ghosts in the Everdeen house these days. One is the memory of my sister, haunting me in everything I do. The other is my mom.

I let Lady out in the yard to go to the bathroom and my long day starts. I have a banana for breakfast, standing at the sink while I eat, after which I wash last night's dishes, leaving them to dry in the rack on the counter. I do several loads of laundry and vacuum the house from top to bottom, except my mom's room. A microwave pizza becomes my lunch, and after eating, it's time for Lady's walk.

This is my life. Waking up from nightmares, calling the police station, taking care of the house, walking the dog, and every minute of every day, even when I'm asleep, missing my sister and wondering what happened to her.

Speaking of the dog, she's nowhere to be seen. "Lady?" I call, but she doesn't appear. I check her dog bed by the couch, under the table, at both the front and back doors. Finally, I pad up the stairs. Mom's door is still shut, but the door at the other end of the hall, the one we normally leave closed, is open a few inches. The one that used to be my sister's. I must've left the door ajar when I vacuumed earlier.

I don't have to check my bedroom. I know where the dog is.

I push open the door to Prim's room and step inside. The corner of her bright pink diary still peeks out from under the pillow and the CD that had been playing that day is still in the CD player. It's still exactly as she left it the day she disappeared, but stretched out across her bed where Prim had been sprawled that day, is Lady. "Come here," I call her softly, patting my leg. She looks forlornly at me, her dark eyes echoing all the questions I wish that I could ask, too. Where is Prim? What happened to her? Why isn't she here?

"C'mon, girl. Let's go for a walk." This gets Lady out of the bed and she pads softly past me out the door. I shut the door behind us, sealing up all the questions and loneliness inside the empty room.

We walk our usual route, and as always, Prim's absence feels like a knife in my stomach. There's the field where we made snow angels with Daddy when we were kids. There's the yard that we lost our ball in one day when we were playing with the Hawthornes, and Gale had to climb the fence to get it. There's the tree that blooms with lilacs in the spring that Prim loved to stop and smell.

And there's the shop that I bought her ice cream from that day, Cookies and Cream and Bubblegum. I don't go in there anymore, even though they have the best ice cream. I don't even eat ice cream anymore.

Back at home, I shower for work and dress in the black pants and white button down that are the standard dress code at the bar, then whip up a quick dinner of rotini pasta with tomato sauce out of a jar. It's nothing fancy, but it's cheap and easy.

"Mom! Dinner's ready!" I call loudly up the stairs. When she doesn't appear, I sigh and trudge up to her room. Without bothering to knock, I turn the knob and open her door. The air in her room smells stale, stagnant. She's facing away from the door, curtains drawn, her lank blonde hair spread out on the pillow.

"Mom, I made dinner. Come eat."

She opens her eyes and turns slightly to look at me. "I'm not hungry."

I take a deep breath and dig my nails into my palm, fighting the urge to scream at her. "I don't care. You have to eat." I pray that today isn't one of the days that she decides to fight me. "Get up."

Thankfully, she sits up slowly and climbs out of her bed. As she passes by me on her way out the door, her eyes flicker to mine and then down again, but not before I see the empty look in the watery blue irises.

When Dad died when I was fifteen, Mom had a really hard time. She kept her job, but only because I had to stay in school and couldn't work enough to support us. I had to take on a lot of the responsibilities, buying the groceries and cleaning the house and making sure Prim got to school and Girl Scouts on time. But when Prim was taken, my mother completely lost what little will to live she had left. She probably would've starved herself to death, but I wouldn't let her. I wasn't going to have her death on my head, too.

We sit on opposite sides of the table, not meeting each others' eyes, not speaking. The only sound in that lonely kitchen is the sound of our cutlery scraping on our bowls as we eat. When we're finished, I put the dishes in the sink for me to wash tomorrow morning. My mother, of course, does nothing, and when I let myself out of the house and lock the door behind me, I release a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

My dad's beat up old truck sits in the driveway. The green paint is rusting, and it's at least a couple decades out of date, but my best friend Gale and I have kept it running since our fathers died nine years ago, and I'd be willing to bet that it runs better than some new vehicles. I can't afford a new car, and I don't want one, anyway. I turn the key in the ignition and the old thing chugs to life, faithful as always.

The bar where I work is a bit of a dump, but it's a job and it pays the bills. Before Prim, I was going to be a botanist. Had a scholarship and everything. Botany was a field that was made for me. Plants don't call you "baby" or try to cop a feel or throw up on you, all things that have happened to me while working at The Hob. I didn't have a choice, though. I had to keep us alive.

But like I said, it's a job, and most nights it's not bad. The other bartenders are cool, especially Cinna, who is kind, smart and gay as the day is long. If I had time for friends, I would consider him one of them.

And some nights, like tonight, Gale comes to visit me.

As my best friend crosses the room to the bar where I'm standing, the eyes of all the women in the room watch him with interest. They don't look too discouraged when he walks right up to the bar and sits down in front of me, and why should they? With our straight dark hair and grey eyes, we look like we could be siblings. Besides, there's nothing between Gale and me except our dead dads, who perished in the same coal mine explosion. Once upon a time, maybe there could have been something, but I haven't had time for relationships since Prim died.

"Hey, Catnip," he says, resting his long forearms on the bar.

"Hey, Gale," I answer, automatically mixing him his usual Jack and Coke. He nods his thanks when I deposit it in front of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm meeting someone," he says, tipping his glass back to take a big swallow.

The corner of my mouth twitches. "Another one?"

"Just because you've decided to commit yourself to a life of granny panties doesn't mean the rest of us have," he shoots back at me with a grin.

I glare at him, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. "Whatever."

"Great come back, Catnip. Really top notch." His stupid grin spreads across his whole face and I have a sudden urge to splash his own drink at him, just to get rid of that dumb smile. I busy myself drying glasses to quell the urge.

"Hey, Posy wants to go skiing this weekend. Do you want to come?"

I'm shaking my head before he's even done speaking. "Can't. I have to work all weekend." I love Gale's sister Posy but I just don't have time. Or money, for that matter.

He sighs. "Really? You work every weekend. Couldn't you just come for a few hours? It would mean a lot to her, Katniss."

"You know I can't, Gale. Drop it."

His mouth hardens into a tight line. "Fine, but think about doing something with us soon. Take a night off. We miss you." He glances around and sees a tall, pretty girl with white blonde hair walking in the door. "Gotta go, Catnip. That's her." He tips his glass back and downs the rest of his drink, slapping a five on the bar between us.

"Well she looks nice," I mumble sarcastically, too low for him to hear as he approaches his date. I scowl at their backs as they walk away.

It's all well and good for Gale to go on dates and have a sex life and relationships, and to go skiing for the day whenever he feels like it. When I left behind my scholarship and the botany program to work at this place, Gale got to go away and become an environmental engineer. He can afford to waste his time on getting laid and dicking around while I'm working my ass off to put food on the table. And even though our dads died in the same mine accident, he doesn't really understand loss, at least not the way I do.

All of Gale's siblings are still alive.

"You here to work, or just to stare? Jealousy is very unbecoming, you know." A good humored voice interrupts my reverie. I turn around to see Cinna watching me, with one hand on his slim hip and the other brandishing a Yeungling in my direction.

"To work," I grumble, reaching out a hand for the drink. "And I'm not jealous." He jerks the bottle away from me for a minute as his eye roves up and down my body appraisingly. I cross my arms over my chest with a sigh. "What, Cinna?"

"Really outdid yourself with the ensemble tonight, didn't you?" he chirps jokingly.

I snatch the beer out of his hand as his face breaks into a grin. "This is the dress code, remember?"

He laughs. "No one pays attention to those rules and you know it. One of these days you've got to let me work my magic. Maybe if you showed your potential, let yourself shine, you could get a couple dates like your handsome friend."

I glare at him. "Whatever, Cinna. I love you but I'm not wearing a skirt to work in a bar. And you know his name is Gale." I point at the bottle I'm holding. "Can you just tell me what I'm supposed to do with this?"

Still smiling, he waves a long-fingered hand toward the back of the bar. "It's for the cute blonde guy in the booth over there."

I raise my eyebrows skeptically. "Aren't cute blonde men your specialty?"

"Alas, this one's from the other side of the tracks, if you know what I mean." He shoots me a ridiculous wink. "Just take the man his drink, woman."

I roll my eyes, hiding a smile, and scoot out from behind the bar, bottle in hand. I can't tell if the guy in question is cute; he's hunched over his table, his forehead braced in his hand and eyes down cast. I don't recognize him, and I feel a familiar thrill rush through me, a warning as if of danger that I get whenever someone new comes in. Could it be him? Is this one finally him, the man who took Prim? It's a familiar worry, and so far its been wrong every time, but I always keep them at a distance anyway.

His hair, which is indeed blonde, is mussed as if he's been running his hands through it over and over again. He's in his own little world, and when I walk up to the table, at first he doesn't even realize I'm there.

I deposit the bottle on the table in front of him, and he finally drops his hand to look up at me. A tired but genuine smile touches his lips. "Thanks so much," he says, reaching out to take the bottle from me.

His eyes are blue like the sky was on the worst day of my life, filled with warmth, and as they meet mine, I'm transfixed, frozen. My hand shakes as I take the money he offers me. Who is this guy? What is he doing here? And why, when I look at him, am I suddenly and inexplicably reminded of my dead sister?


Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story! We are blown away by the positive response we have received already and want to thank you all for your comments and feedback!

A big thank you as well to sunfishdunes for her awesome beta skills and to desertginger and jennagill for pre-reading! You ladies are awesome.

Keep an eye out for Chapter 3 which will be coming on Thursday; the first chapter from our favorite baker! Come follow us on tumblr: I'm madefrommemoriesff and my co-conspirators are soamazinghere (Prim) and loveforpanem (Peeta)!