KATNISS

I wake up in the morning and immediately feel excited. Today's the day! I lay in my bed for a while and check my notifications, which include a good morning text from Peeta at 5am, and then text him back. I know he won't be able to answer, but he'll see it when he gets done at work and is headed over to my game.

It's about lunchtime now, since I've let myself sleep in. I walk downstairs and eat some cold macaroni and cheese that Prim must've made earlier, and watch cartoons with her for a while until I have to get my soccer clothes on. While I'm packing my bag, Dad gets home and from work and walks in the door, giving us each kiss on the head as he comes in.

"Gonna try to be awake to see you off for the dance tonight," he says gruffly, pouring his cold cup of coffee down the drain.

"Really?" I ask. "You don't have to. I know how tired you are."

"Katniss," he says. "Yeah, yeah, being tired. You're my baby girl, and this is your last Homecoming. I wanna take some pictures, see you off, be a proud dad. Can you let me do that for you?"

I grin. "Yeah, I can let you do that."

"Okay," he says. "See you later. Where's your sister?"

"Watching cartoons," I say, throwing the words over my shoulder. "Been at it for a while. Tell her to do some homework or go outside or something."

He gives me a wave, and I happily leave the house to head to the stadium. When I get there, I sit out during the first quarter which is fine with me. When I go in during the second, I glance up to see Peeta in the bleachers waving at me. My performance picks up once I know he's there, and by the end of the game we've won by a landslide.

In typical fashion, I ditch my team and cart my stuff up the bleacher stairs and throw myself into Peeta's arms.

"Congratulations," he says, his voice close to my ear. "You big old ball hog."

"Just being my showoff self," I say, still holding onto his biceps after we break apart from our hug. He brushes a piece of my damp hair off of my forehead and somehow still makes me feel beautiful as I stand before him drenched in sweat and covered in dirt and grime from the field.

I glance at my phone and see that it's closer to 3 than I thought. "Hey, I gotta get home," I say, urging him along. "If you want me to look anywhere close to respectable tonight, then I have to start getting ready. I'm supposed to be meeting everyone at Jo's at 3:30. I have to shower before then! I'm so gross."

"You're not even that bad," he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as we walk.

"I'm pretty bad, wanna sniff?" I ask, lifting up my arm so my armpit is close to his face. He sniffs in, and pretends to faint. "Ass," I say, and punch him.

When he drops me off, I pat his arm and say, "So, back here at 7?" I confirm. "It'll just be me," I promise him. "Everyone's going off their own ways after Jo's house. It won't be like a big, crazy thing."

"Just us," he solidifies.

"Just us," I repeat, and squeeze his wrist. "I'll see you then, all decked out. I can't wait."

"Me, neither," he says, and his eyes are glinting.

I hurry inside and shower the filth from my body, then get my stuff together that I'll need to get ready with at Jo's. Right on time, I see Madge's car outside, so I hurriedly pack up my last few things and then give Prim a kiss on her cheek as she sits at the kitchen table with paper and colored pencils spread out everywhere around her.

"Be back in a few hours," I say. "There are Lean Cuisines in the freezer if you get hungry."

"Okay," she says, and hugs me tight. "You're coming back here to show me your dress, right?"

"Of course," I say. "Be back soon."

I wave my sister goodbye and get into Madge's car feeling excited and breathless. "Hey," she says, and throws it into reverse. I keep all my stuff in a pile on my lap. "You smell good."

"Just got out of the shower," I say, and lift up a section of my wet hair. "My game went long. I had to hurry a little."

"I would've waited," she says, eyes on the road as we drive the short distance to Jo's.

"Jo would've been pissed," I say, and we both chuckle as her house comes into view. When we arrive, Madge gets her garment bag from the back seat and I cart my own stuff in, and thankfully Jo is holding open the front door. When Madge and I go in, I can see that a bunch of our other girlfriends are already here. Ellie, April, Christina, Delly, and Annie are all in the living room with their hair in mid-stages of getting done, eating snacks.

"Hey, guys!" Ellie says excitedly. Her hair is already in curls around her shoulders. Both Jo's mom and sister are hairdressers, which is why we always come to her house to get ready. No one can make us look better than they can.

"You two need to get in the chairs, like now," Jo says. "You're late. Tell Mom and Natalie what you want and they'll do it."

I sit down in a makeshift hair station that they've created in the dining room after giving Jo's mom, Hattie, a hug. She's known me since I was a kid, so we're basically family.

"I don't really know what I want," I tell her. "You can choose. I always like what you pick." I trust her, and just sit back as she works her magic on my hair. As Hattie is busy on top of my head, Delly goes to work on my face in applying makeup. I show her the color of my dress and she takes note, adding deep red accents to my eyeshadow when she gets to that point.

After more than an hour, I'm finally done. Hattie walks around to the front of me and nods at the work she's done, then holds up a handheld mirror so I can see for myself.

She's turned my dark brown hair into an ocean of curls, pulled back from my face with a braided crown. I couldn't have asked for anything better. "I love it," I say. "Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble," she says. "You know I love your hair. You look beautiful, Katniss."

I stand up and fluff it, and then get fawned over by the other girls for a while as they take in my new look. I go and join them on the couch, and Christina pets my curls gently. "Peeta is gonna freak," she says.

The group goes quiet for a beat and the only sound in the room is that of the TV. "Oh, I almost forgot that you're going with him," Jo says.

I try to keep an upbeat tone. "What about it?" I ask.

She shrugs. "It just seems weird. He was kind of weird at our table the other day."

I frown. "You guys were intimidating. He's shy."

"I still don't really get why you picked him," April says. "It just seems random. Like, where did he come from?"

"Up north," I say. "He moved here because his dad-"

"I mean, we get that," Jo cuts in. "But there are a ton of other boys at school who'd like, die to go with you. And you pick him. It just came out of nowhere."

I cross my arms over my chest. "I don't know why I always have to get the third degree about it," I say crossly.

"We're just curious!" Madge says, trying to be the peacemaker. "We don't know him that well and we just want the best for you."

I scoff a little bit, feeling that chip on my shoulder. "He is the best thing for me, especially after the motherfucker. And it doesn't feel like that, anyway, that you want the best for me. It feels like you're judging me. And him."

"We're totally not," Ellie says. "That's not it at all."

I start to feel cornered with all of their eyes on me. "Maybe I shouldn't have come here," I say.

"Katniss, don't say that," Annie pipes up. "Guys, leave her alone. If she likes Peeta, then she likes Peeta."

"I still don't like it when you talk about him like he's a charity case," I say. "He's not. I'm not going with him because I feel sorry for him or anything. We're really good friends. He gets me."

"Friends don't hold hands," Delly points out.

I shoot her a look. "We don't," I say.

"I've seen you do it at lunch before," she counters.

"Why are you stalking me?" I ask, and can feel the argumentative tone rising in my voice. "I didn't come here to get interrogated. So what, I like a boy. So what? So what?"

They all seem to smile at once, and then start nodding. "You do like him," Christina says.

"Well, I mean, duh," I say. "I'm going to the dance with him. You guys are so stupid. You make such a big deal out of every little thing."

"Stop being such a drama queen," Jo says. "We don't care that much about your life."

"Except for the fact that you do," I say, raising my eyebrows. "I can't even hold hands with a guy without secret agent Delly keeping tabs on me." There's a laughing tone in my voice now that wasn't there before. Now that the cat's out of the bag that I like him, everything seems easier. I didn't think I'd be relieved once they knew, but I am. I don't feel like I'm keeping a secret anymore, and maybe now they'll get off my back about it.

"Have you guys kissed?" Ellie asks, leaning forward.

"No," I say quickly, and lean back on the couch. "We haven't really done anything except hold hands and hug. You know. It's… not like that. It's slow."

"What are you waiting for?" Christina asks.

I laugh, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I don't want to scare him off."

"Katniss," Jo says seriously. "Have you seen the way the boy looks at you?" I shrug and shake my head. "He's fucking in lovewith you. Nothing you do at this point could scare him off."

I scoff. "If you're so sure he's in love with me, why were you all on me for having him as my date?"

"I don't know," she says. "We don't wanna see you get fucked over again."

"Well," I say surely. "Peeta isn't like that."

Once everyone is dressed, we take a slew of pictures together and then all leave to go our separate ways. Madge drops me back off at my house, and when I get out of the car I can't stop wringing my hands. I'm suddenly so nervous for Peeta to see me. I hope he thinks I look pretty.

I open the door and find Prim waiting at the bottom of the stairs in an old dress of mine. It's pink with a tulle skirt with flower decals on the frills, and a thick white ribbon at the waist. "Well, look at you," I say, and she stands up. "You're all dressed up."

"I wanted to be fancy, too," she says, and hugs me. "You look like a princess."

"So do you," I say and my stomach drops when I hear a knock at the door. "That's him," I whisper.

Just as I turn to answer it, I hear my dad's footsteps on the steps as he descends. "That your boy?" he asks, his voice gravelly from sleep.

I nod shakily, swallowing as I do so. "I can get it."

"Let me," he says, but I follow him. I want to get our pictures outside, not in here.

Dad opens the door and I see Peeta there, dressed in black dress pants, suspenders, a white dress shirt and a deep red bow tie, just like he said he would be. He's holding a plastic container with a corsage inside, and his eyes are darting everywhere, presumably looking for me.

"You must be Katniss's date," Dad says, opening the door a bit wider.

"Peeta, sir," he says, and I notice that his voice is shaking slightly. "Peeta Mellark."

"I remember," Dad says, sounding congenial. "I'm Mike. Her dad, obviously. I met your parents at the beginning of the summer."

"Right," Peeta says, anchoring both hands on the corsage.

"She wants to come outside to get some pictures, you up for that?" Dad asks, and Peeta nods. Dad ushers me out, and Peeta sees me for the first time.

His eyes don't move for the longest time as he takes in the sight of me. "Wow," he breathes, and I hear the plastic creak as he squeezes the corsage box a little too tight. "You look beautiful, Katniss."

I blush. "Thanks." I walk over to him and give him a chaste hug. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Well, I…" he stammers. "You look…" He gets flustered as his words won't come out. "Yeah."

"C'mon, Prim," Dad calls, and Prim scampers out of the house to stand on the porch.

"Oh, Prim, you dressed up too," Peeta says, sounding cheerful. "Well, you'll have to get in some of the pictures."

"She doesn't…" I trail off, but he stops me.

"She dressed up," he says. "She looks wonderful. You look wonderful, Prim. It'd be a crime not to get some photos of you."

She squeals, presses her hands to her cheeks, and looks up at Dad for validation. He nods and raises his eyebrows, positioning the camera as Peeta and I pose in the lawn.

"Here, I've seen this before," Dad says. "Son, get the flower out and put it on her wrist. Then I'll get a picture of that."

As he takes the corsage out, I realize that I didn't return the favor. "I didn't get you one," I say, suddenly fretting.

He whispers as he puts it on me, knowing Dad is snapping photos. "It's okay," he says. "I don't need one. I just wanted to get this for you, since green is your favorite." I look down and see the green theme of the flowers, mixed with red that matches my dress perfectly. I practically melt right there in the yard.

After Peeta and I are done posing, I wave Prim over. She plasters herself to my side with her arms tight around my waist, flashing a cheesy grin. We get plenty of pictures of the three of us, and then it's time for Peeta and I to get going.

I walk up to Dad in my high heels and he gives me a kiss on the forehead. "Have fun," he says. "Be home by 1. No drinking, no drugs, and no sex."

My eyes widen and I really hope that Peeta didn't hear that. "Dad," I hiss.

"You heard me," he says, then moves to shake Peeta's hand. "It was good to officially meet you. Have fun tonight, but not too much fun. Or I'll get you." He stares Peeta down with a deadpan look, but then breaks into a smile and laugh. "I'm just joking, son. Have a good night. Let's go back in, Prim." They both go inside and wave to us from the front window as we get into the car. Once we're alone in the silence, I feel like I can let out the big breath that I'd been holding the whole time Peeta and my dad were in the same place together.

"That was a lot," I say, resting my head back against the headrest.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he reverses out of my driveway. "It definitely was," he says. "But I think it went well."

"Oh yeah, he likes you," I say. "I don't think he ever said more than two words to Gale in the whole time we saw each other. I think he wants to adopt you."

Peeta laughs and then glances quickly over at me. "You really do look beautiful," he says quietly. "I didn't wanna say it too much, you know, while your dad was right there because…weird, but… you do. I…" He closes his mouth and smiles bashfully. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," I say, crossing one leg fluidly over the other. "You look pretty amazing, too, you should know."

"Oh, stop," he says. "Whatever."

"You do," I tell him, and face him with one elbow rested on the console. When we pull up to the school, he parks the car and I take his hand as we walk through the doors. I want to start the night off right.

When we get inside, the lights are dim and the music is already bumping. I can see my girls spread out around the gym; Jo is dancing, Madge is by the water fountain, and Ellie and Christina are sitting at a table deep in conversation. I wave to Madge, who catches my eye as she stands with her boyfriend, Landon, and she throws a wink in my direction.

"Do you wanna dance?" I ask him, raising my voice over the heavy beats. He agrees wholeheartedly, and we make our way out onto the dance floor where Juju On That Beat is playing. We don't know the dance moves, but we make up our own. Peeta isn't a bad dancer at all; he has complete control over his body. I'm sure I just look like I'm being electrocuted, but I have fun nonetheless.

The DJ, who is probably just a student at the community college in the next town over, plays a few fast songs and then slows it down. Everyone on the dance floor stops jumping and gyrating, and we all collectively pause and catch our breath.

"Wanna stay?" he asks. "Dance to this?"

It's When We Were Young by Adele, and there's no way I'm turning down a slow dance. "Of course," I say, and then get closer to him.

He wraps his arms around the small of my back, and I wrap mine around his neck. We're not out of place by any means; every couple has stayed on the dance floor so they can sway to this song.

We're so close that I can smell his subtle cologne and feel his heart beating. I look up into his face to see that he's already looking down at me, and we both smile shyly at each other. He starts singing the words softly to me, "You still look like a movie, you still sound like a song… my god, this reminds me of when we were young…"

I blink slowly and sing quietly along with him for a few bars, but then stop and rest my head on his chest as he continues. I can hear him with my ear against the vibrations, and close my eyes and smile to myself. I never want this song to end.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever," he says, as the song drifts on. I nod against his shirt, and we keep on swaying until the song ends and a fast one starts up again.

I lift my head up as we separate and hold onto one of his hands. "Can we go somewhere quiet?" I ask, and he agrees. We walk away from the crowd, hand-in-hand, getting a reprieve from the intrusive noise.

There are people everywhere inside the school, so we leave the school through the main doors and are blanketed in new, refreshing silence. The quiet is nice, but it's still mid-October and the air has a bite to it, so I wrap my arms around myself and shiver.

"I have a jacket in my car you can use," he says, and we stop there before continuing our walk. He pulls the suit jacket out of the back seat and drapes it over my shoulders, which makes me feel much warmer. "Better?" he asks, and I nod.

"Much," I say, and pull it tight around me. It smells just like him, and I never want to give it back.

We lay on the hood of his car with our backs on the windshield and stare up at the twinkling stars, still vaguely able to hear the bump of the bass from inside the school. But we're far away from it now.

I grasp his hand that's resting between our bodies and don't say a thing. We had stayed inside for about an hour, and I think that was enough for both of us.

"Thanks for including my sister earlier," I whisper into the darkness, breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah," he says. "She's a cutie."

"She's something," I say, turning my head so I can look at him.

"So are you," he says. "Something. You Everdeens sure have… something."

I squeeze his hand. "What's that mean?"

"You're supposed to just read my mind," he says, turning his head now, too.

"Yeah, right," I say. "There's way too many thoughts in there for me to get through."

"True, I'm very smart," he says, chuckling.

"Don't go that far," I say. "I didn't say they were smart thoughts."

"Touché," he counters.

We're quiet for a long time again, our fingers still locked together. In the starry darkness, it feels like we're the only two people on the earth. "Peeta," I whisper, my words directed up at the sky.

"Hmm," he responds.

"I…" My voice breaks as I lose confidence on what I want to say next. I force it out, though. "I've never felt like this before."

I turn to look at him and see that he's already had his eyes on me. I sit up, and he follows my lead. We're as close as possible on the hood of his car; our legs pressed flush to each other from our hips all the way down to the points of our knees.

"Me neither," he breathes, and rests his hand on my mid-thigh. My eyes dart down to his lips and I watch his do the same with mine, and suddenly our heads are moving closer to each other. My heart feels too big for my chest; any minute now I think it's going to explode right through. Within seconds, our lips are pressed against each other and I'm kissing Peeta Mellark for the very first time.

My hands move from my lap to his neck, and he leaves one of his on my thigh and winds the other one around my back. His lips are smooth and soft; supple against mine. I leave my eyes closed until we part, and then close them once more when we kiss again. Once the second one is over with, I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, smiling uncontrollably.

"Oh, wow," he breathes, and pulls his hands off me like my body is on fire once we separate.

Our faces are still just inches apart; I can feel his breath whispering softly over my cheeks. It smells like cinnamon gum that he must've been chewing at some point during the night, but isn't any longer.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time," he says softly, getting up the courage to touch me again. He brushes his thumb over one of my cheekbones and I lean into his hand, letting my eyelids flutter shut.

"Me, too," I admit, and wrap my fingers around his wrist. "I kind of want to do it again."

He holds my chin and draws my face close to his, and without wasting any time our lips are pressed up against each other again. I do my best to memorize him, though I'm sure this is nowhere near the last time we'll be in this position. I slide my hands around his waist and try and pull myself closer, even though it's impossible at this point. We're already as close as humanly possible.

Interrupting us, I hear my name being shouted in a brash tone from far away.

"Everdeen!" Peeta and I jolt away from each other and I gape, open-mouthed, in the direction of the sound. I squint my eyes and can see that it's Mr. Abernathy, who chaperoned the dance. "No physical affection! Get the heck off that car and go home!"

Peeta and I dissolve into giggles that come from knowing we're doing something that we're not supposed to. We jump off the hood of the car and get inside, and speed away from the school towards our neighborhood.

Once we're on the main road, I turn my head to look at him. "I should go home, but I don't want to," I say, my voice dreamy. I reach over and trace his jaw with one finger and watch his eyes sparkle.

"I know," he says. "But your dad will be happy that you made curfew."

"Yeah…" I trail off. "You're right. As usual."

"I could get used to hearing that," he says, tipping his head to look at me.

"You won't," I tease, and try to control the butterflies in my stomach as we pull up in my driveway. I can see that all the lights in the house are off; it's almost midnight and everyone is asleep. I shift in my seat so I'm facing him and sigh. "Tonight was…" I start, but can't finish.

"I know," he says. "I wish it didn't have to end."

"Me, too," I whisper through the darkness. His face is only illuminated by the blue light of the clock radio on the dashboard.

Out of nowhere, I lean forward and take his jaw in my hands and kiss him for the last time tonight. It's a different kiss than the ones from before; this time, his lips part and his tongue invites my own into his mouth. I lean into him, curving my shoulders inwards, but only let us go so far. When we break apart, I'm breathless and overwhelmed.

"See you at school," I say, and then run inside my house while feeling his eyes on me the whole way.

Once I'm inside, I press my back against the front door and have the urge to shriek, but I keep it inside. I hurry up the stairs, still in my heels, and then shut the door to my room so the lock makes the quietest click possible. I stand there for a second, in the middle of my dressers, bed and closet, and everything seems different because of him.

I collapse on my bed without bothering to take my dress off, and stare at the ceiling with a huge, dopey grin on my face.

I just kissed a boy and he kissed me back.

I've kissed boys before, but never like that. No, not ever anything like that.

In the morning, I wake up and the house is abuzz with noise. It's usually silent on Sunday mornings because Dad works first shift instead of third and Prim sleeps in, but today it's different.

I slide out of bed and hear two voices in the kitchen; Prim's and Mom's. I screw up my eyebrows and pick up my sequined dress from where I had discarded it on the floor last night and throw it on my bed. I walk out of my room dressed in soccer sweatpants with my number 3 on the hip and a long-sleeved black shirt from a 5k I ran last year with Jo, and go slow in the hallway so I can make sure I'm hearing what I think I am.

Mom hasn't left her room for more than minutes at a time for weeks. The last time was for my choir concert, and even then, she disappeared again right when we got back home. In the beginning of the school year she was out more; not talking much but at least showing her face, but as the weather has gotten colder she's been becoming scarcer and scarcer.

I'm used to it at this point. Her empty spot at the table doesn't catch a second glance from me and I don't miss her. It's easier for me when she stays away because it doesn't confuse Prim. And now, by just hearing the upward-lilting tones in my sister's voice as she talks to our mother, I can tell her hopes are up.

And Mom won't be there as her shoulder to cry on when those hopes are dashed. That's my job: to clean up after the messes Mom makes.

I step into the kitchen and stand in the entryway for only a second before I'm noticed.

"Katniss!" Prim says excitedly, and I see that the kitchen is a mess. I have no idea what they're doing, but they haven't bothered with cleanliness. For Prim, it's okay because she's eight. In Mom's case, it's unacceptable but not unexpected.

"Finally, finally," Mom says, and I can see that she's dug out her chef hat and apron. "Come over here and help us. We're cooking a breakfast feast."

I glare at her reproachfully. "Did you take your medicine?" I ask, skirting around the table and staying as far away from her as I can.

She scoffs at me, like what I've said is so off-color. "Katniss, it's not your job to worry about that," she says.

"So you didn't," I finish. "Don't do this, mom. Please."

Mom looks at Prim conspiratorially. "She's no fun, is she?" She plants her hands on her hips. "Spoiled sport."

"Spoil sport!" Prim echoes, giggling.

I don't take Mom's bait. I never do and never have, not even when I was younger. Prim can't help it; she wants to be close to our mother so badly.

"It's a mess in here," I say, walking further into the kitchen to gather some bowls and ingredients they've spread everywhere to put them away. "Are you planning on cleaning this before Dad gets home?"

"If we get there," Mom says.

"Daddy will love our feast so much he won't even care about the mess," Prim says, and those sound like words that were fed to her.

I close my eyes and massage my temples, wishing desperately that I'd just stayed in my room. I could've spent the morning in there, thinking about Peeta and last night. And later, maybe snuck out to see him without these two asking where I'm going.

"He'll care," I assure them, and then make pointed eye contact with Mom. "You know he'll care."

"Oh, he'll get over it," she says, waving me off. "Let us have some fun, would you? If you're gonna act like this, I'd just rather you leave."

My eyes flit to Prim and I can easily see she's torn. Her blue eyes shift over to me and I can practically see her cogs working, wondering who to side with. She presses her pink lips together and adjusts the lopsided chef hat atop her blonde head and ends up saying nothing.

"Prim," I say firmly. "After you're done playing, you need to get a start on your homework."

"Why?" she whines, shoulders collapsing.

"So you don't leave it all until tonight, like me," I say, and then add, "Listen to your sister momma." I throw the nickname out just to stick it to my mother, and I know it works. She physically recoils by hearing it and I feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

"Okay," Prim agrees.

"We're not just playing," Mom pipes up, a manic smile painted on her face. "We're professional chefs and we must get back to our recipes. Isn't that right, Primrose?"

I walk away before I can hear anything more of their conversation, and shut myself back into my room, shaking my head along the way. I text Dad, knowing he'll see it once he gets out of work.

10:58am –mom's up again and it's bad.Hurry home when u get off bc she has prim all wound up. Need help

I lock myself in my room and try to busy myself with homework, but it proves to be impossible. The noise they continue to make downstairs is impossible to ignore, even when I put on my headphones I can still hear them straight through. Finally, fed up with the interruptions, I give up on my homework and pick up the phone call Peeta instead. The phone rings and then goes to voicemail, and I realize that he must be working his morning shift at the bakery and won't be off for a few more hours.

I lay on my bed and listen to music for a little while until I can't take the cantankerous noise downstairs anymore. I get in the shower, and when I get out it's still just as boisterous as before and I'm fed up. I dry off angrily, and with wet, wavy hair, descend the stairs and show up in the kitchen again.

"Would you guys-" I start to say, but get cut off.

Both Mom and Prim flip around; now both are wearing aprons and have flour poofs everywhere on their bodies. Mom's eyebrows are raised and a hyper smile is pulling at the threads of her lips. "You know what I heard, Katniss?" she asks, ignoring the fact that I had been speaking first. "I heard you went out with a boy last night." She sets down her cooking utensils and walks towards me, stopping at the midpoint to lean with her elbows resting on the kitchen island. I can feel Prim's eyes on me, but I don't look over at her. I concentrate on our mother only. "So, what happened? Did you guys kiss? Is he your boyfriend?" There's a long, steely silence that follows. "Oh come on, Katniss. You can tell me. I'm your mom."

I clench my fists at my sides and dig my nails into the fleshy part of my palms, surely leaving imprints. I grit my teeth and close my eyes for a beat longer than a blink, then reopen them to stare hard into her face. "It's none of your business," I growl.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, seemingly innocent. "Of course it's my business. You're my baby. Both of my girls are getting so big." With that sentiment, she wraps her arm around Prim's shoulders and brings her youngest close to her side, hugging her tight and kissing her temple. She holds Prim like that because she knows if she tried that with me, she might get an eye clawed out.

"I'm not telling you anything," I say, trying to keep my distance. She knows just how to push my buttons, she always has. It's a challenge to keep my temper at bay around her when she's up, and she knows it. "I don't have to tell you shit. You don't deserve it."

"Don't talk to me like that, young lady," she says, her voice growing darker.

"You don't talk to me like that," I snap back. "Stop acting like you're my mom. If you want to be my mom, stop sleeping 26 hours a day and take your medicine for once."

Mom lets go of Prim like she's touched a hot burner and rips the apron off her neck and throws it to the floor. She stomps out of the kitchen, shoulder-checking me on the way out, and I hear the door to her room slam shut once she's gotten far enough.

After she's left, the pancakes on the griddle start sizzling as they burn. I rush over to them, ushering Prim out of the way, and turn the heat off.

"They burnt, they're ruined," Prim says, now sobbing. Fat tears are rolling down her blotchy cheeks and she throws her hands down to her sides. "You ruined them, it's all your fault. I hate you!"

I ignore her. She doesn't know what she's saying, and I know that. "Okay, Prim," I say, calmly and with a level head. Now that Mom's out of the room, I can think clearly again. I'm still mad as hell, but my thoughts aren't clouded with the sight of her. I can take care of Prim; I always have. I don't get her hopes up and then crush them. I teach her about the real world and I'm the best thing she has. I keep reminding myself of this as I clean up the kitchen, stepping around my sister who has dissolved into a puddle of screams and sobs in the middle of the floor.

"Prim, come on," I say, wiping down the counter and stepping over her yet again. I throw the soiled paper towel away and try to pick her up from the ground by her armpits, but she fights me on it and goes limp. "Okay, fine," I say, backing off.

She eventually stands up on her own and dusts herself off, and I glance her way as I continue to clean. Without acknowledging my presence, she walks to the backyard through the screen door and I watch her as she stops at the rickety, old jungle gym and climbs it, then sits at the top of the slide with her arms crossed and chin pressed to her chest, pouting.

I shake my head and let out a long gust of air. I do everything to make the kitchen spotless again so Dad won't have extra work to do when he gets home from his shift, and then redo the pancakes that got scorched during the fight earlier. I make a plate of three and then arrange them nicely with fruit, syrup, even whipped cream, then open the screen door with one hand as I hold the plate in the other.

I walk up to Prim through our too-long, dewy grass, and lean against the slide. "Brought you this," I say softly, and set the plate next to her. She eyes it, but says nothing. "I didn't think you'd eaten yet." There's a long silence between us that feels purposeful on her part. "I know you're mad at me," I say finally. "But you have to understand why Mom gets all happy like that. It's not a normal happy. It's part of how she's sick. It's not real."

Prim lifts her eyes from the plate and casts them out towards the yard. "She'd be better if you were nicer to her," she says, jutting out her lower lip again. "That's what she said. And she's right, Katniss. You're so mean to her."

My gut twists and I can't bear to listen to her anymore, so I turn around and go back inside, but only to grab my coat and shoes. After zipping up, I head out towards the only place where I can be with the only person I want to see.

When I get to the bakery, I've cooled down considerably thanks to the long walk to get here. When Peeta sees that it's me coming through the door, his face totally changes. His eyebrows raise and he smiles widely; he lights up in every sense of the word. "Katniss." My heart swells just hearing my name come from his mouth.

"Hi," I say sweetly as I walk up to the counter. He comes out from behind it, though, and wraps me up in a hug. I'm glad for it, too; without having to say it, he knows exactly what I need. "It's good to see you," I say, mostly into his shirt that my face is pressed up against.

"You, too," he says, letting go. "I was hoping you'd stop in." I nod and keep a soft grip on his arms, running my hands up and down them. "Is everything okay?" he asks, tipping his head to one side.

"Yeah," I sigh, then shake my head. "No, actually… no, not really."

"What?" His facial expression changes on a dime; from soft and vulnerable to defensive in milliseconds. "What happened?"

I lean against the counter and he walks back around behind it, but is still actively listening. "My mom," I say. "She's not taking her meds. She was on a crazy high this morning, you know, like a mania phase. And we got in a fight. I said some things I shouldn't have." I rethink my last statement. "Well, I mean… I meant them. But I shouldn't have said them in front of Prim. Because now, not only do I have my mom mad at me, but Prim is, too. I don't give a shit what my mom thinks about me, but Prim…" I bite the inside of my cheek. "I tried to make it better with her, but it didn't work."

Peeta reaches across the short counter and curls a stray tendril of my hair behind my ear. "She'll come around," he assures me. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that. About your mom. I… don't know if I could ever do that."

"You'd learn," I say. "My whole life I've just, I don't know, gotten used to it. I know how to avoid her, basically. And I just get tired of hearing her shit, so I stand up for myself." I shrug. "I had it down by Prim's age, so I guess I just expect her to react the same way, and she doesn't. And that bothers me."

"She's really different from you," he says. "It's pretty easy to see." I give him a questioning look that prompts him to continue. "She's just… a feeler," he says. "I don't know how else to describe it."

"I know she is," I say, and I really do. "I love her for that most of the time. But not now. I wish she could just see."

"She probably will someday," he says.

"I don't know what to do until then," I say, feeling deflated. "I can't protect her from Mom if she won't let me. If she keeps going back."

He opens his mouth and shakes his head. "I don't know," he admits. "I think you do a pretty good job with her, though."

I attempt a smile. "Thanks," I say, then change the subject. "So… last night."

The blush that creeps onto his cheeks is near-violent. "Last night," he repeats. "Tell me I didn't dream that."

"You definitely didn't," I say, giggling. "I was hoping I didn't, either." We look at each other, eyes glistening. "I was wondering if we could do it again?" I feel stupid immediately after asking, but the feeling quickly fades as his face alights with a grin.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," he says, and leans over the counter that holds the special pastries and treats that he makes. He takes my jaw in his hand and kisses me, petting my hair back with the other hand as he does so. I trace his knuckles with my thumbs as our lips are pressed together, and smile against his mouth as it ends.

When we pull apart, I run my tongue over the seam of my lips and can still vaguely taste him. "Wasn't a dream," I whisper, making heavy eye contact with him.

"Katniss, um…" he stammers, itching the side of his face and looking down at the floor instead of at me. "I, um…"

"What?" I push.

He shakes his head, running his tongue over his lips now, too. "Nothing," he concedes. "It's nothing."

"You sure?" I ask, smiling.

"Yeah," he says, looking up. He flashes me a grin and I can see that's something is still on his mind, but I don't pry.

"Okay…" I trail off, and then grab his hand where it rests on the counter. "Do you mind if I just sit in here and do homework for a while?" I ask.

He guffaws. "Mind?" he asks. "Of course I don't mind. As long as you'll let me feed you."

I go find a table and roll my eyes at him. "You're insufferable."

"So I've heard," he says, then brings me a plate. "Eat up. I insist." He leaves, then comes back with a brown paper bag. "And take this back to your sister when you leave. It might make her like you again."

He sets the bag down and I start my homework with the cap of my pen between my teeth, staring down at calculus problems without getting very far at all. I put it off to the side after a while and pull out a worksheet for bio that's due tomorrow, which proves to be much easier.

After an hour or so, the customer flow slows down again and Peeta is leaning on the counter, looking at me. "How's it going?" he asks.

I sigh. "I'm avoiding calc."

He nods knowingly. "I can call Leo again, if you want."

"Ugh, no," I say. "I can figure it out. I just need to look something up. Can I use your phone? Mine goes so slow."

He obliges and tosses his phone to me, then turns around to walk into the back to replenish some supplies. His phone is already unlocked, but I spend a few confused seconds flipping the app pages trying to locate Google before I can search anything. Once I'm there, though, I click the search bar to start typing and am met with the last four things he searched. It's impossible not to read them, my eyes go straight there out of habit, and I audibly gasp when I read the list.

'How to ask somebody to be your girlfriend'

'pizza hut Otsego michigan'

'flowers for homecoming'

'watercolor paint sale'

I'm most concerned with the top query, and after looking up to see if he's still in the back room, I click on it. The top result is a Buzzfeed article that he's already clicked on, and I'm tempted to click it too, but don't get the chance. He comes back to the front of the bakery, carrying a huge sack of flour over his shoulder, smiling the whole way.

"Did it help?" he asks, totally innocent. He doesn't know what he left up, and I don't know whether to bring it up. Now, though, my whole body is buzzing with excitement and calculus is the last thing on my mind.

"Oh, um, not yet," I stammer, fumbling with his big phone and dropping it with a clatter to the tabletop. "Oh, shit, sorry. I was just typing. Took me a sec to find it."

"Oh, yeah, I have a lot of apps. Need to clear those out."

I clumsily type in my calculus question and click on the first helpful article that comes up, then pretend to read it with heavy concentration. All I'm really doing is staring at the page and wondering to myself if I should just blurt out a huge yes now or wait until he asks me.

I decide not to say anything and finish up my work. When I've done the best I can, I gather my things and hand him back his phone. "I've done all I can," I say. "If I get a zero, so be it. I tried."

"You won't get a zero," he says, and gently grips my wrist as my hand lies on the counter. "You going home?"

I nod and lift the bag he's sending with me. "Got this," I say. "Hopefully it'll win her back."

"Do you think your mom…?"

"I won't see Mom for another ten years now," I say, exaggerating. "She's gone for however long. I don't know. I'll talk to Dad when he gets home, that's the best I can do. You know?" He nods silently. "See you at school," I say, and lean across the counter for a hug. He kisses me on the cheek as we separate, and the skin on my face burns the whole way home.