Title: Inconstant

Summary: Because so much can be conveyed in a name. And in the end, it was the simplest things that mattered the most. Prim-centric. A collection of one-shots, in non-chronological order.

Notes: Sorry for the month-long wait; I've been busy working on a one-shot I'm planning to post sometime soon.

Enjoy the (slightly) longer chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

White Clover

I promise

He snickered.

"What's a Merchant girl doing here, huh?"

Without looking up, Prim knew exactly who he was talking to. What other blond-haired girl would be caught in a Seams place?

Still, she pretended that she couldn't hear him. Katniss will be here soon, she told herself, over and over again. She rubbed the fabric of her sweater between her fingers, waiting for her sister to come.

"Why are you still here? Go run off to your rich parents!" he taunted her. She didn't budge, just ducked her head and kept silent.

What was she doing here? Why wasn't she home with her mother, helping her heal patients?

"I'm not a Merchant girl," she whispered, so softly she could barely hear herself.

He didn't listen.

"Go back to where you belong."

Prim glanced at him. The boy in front of her was about the same age as her, maybe younger. They were at least the same height, though she cowered before him. When he leaned in, she could smell the scent of coal in his breath. Years ago, that was what her father had smelled like after a long day at the coal mines. Unconsciously, she stepped back.

She considered leaving. Maybe then he would leave her alone. But that would be worse, because then Katniss would ask why she had left and she would have to tell her what had happened.

It seemed like hours before Prim heard the familiar clink of boots approaching her. Katniss had finished trading game, and they were ready to leave. Prim breathed a sigh of relief, and greeted her sister.

"Katniss," she managed to squeak out. "Hi."

Katniss gave her a quick smile, then glared at the boy. "Was he bothering you?" she demanded.

Prim avoided both their gazes. "No," she said quietly.

Katniss's glare didn't falter. "He better not be," she said.

The boy raised an eyebrow at this. He looked from Katniss to her, then back at Katniss. A Seams girl defending a Merchant girl...The ones from Seam rarely, if ever, conversed with the ones in the merchant area. So this, here, was unusual.

"Mom's waiting for us at home," Prim reminded Katniss. "We should go now." She took a few steps away, and gestured for Katniss to follow.

Katniss turned from the boy. "I guess," she said. Her tone carried a stony quality to it, firm like a schoolteacher's, unlike the patient, delicate voice of her mother. She gave the boy one last warning glare, and said to Prim, "Let's go."

They walked home in silence. Prim was usually the one who did the talking, but she didn't know what to say. There wasn't much to say. She trudged along beside Katniss, taking a false fascination with the fabric of her sweater.

By the time they arrived home, Prim was almost convinced that Katniss had forgotten what had just happened. Almost. She knew better: Katniss never forgot anything, especially something like this. So when Katniss gripped the doorknob before Prim could to stop her from opening the door, it was no surprise.

"If he does something like that again, you can tell me, okay?" Katniss said. The question was more of an order than a suggestion.

"...He won't bother me again," Prim promised. But even to her, it sounded self-assuring.