I'm happy to inform you all that this is FINALLY not a filler chapter, well... Kind of.

"No, no, no! Not pink! She'll look like Barbie's multi-cultural friend," I rolled my eyes as Johanna and Annie argued about what color to start with for me, "You know, the one with the prettier face but your mom wouldn't buy for you because she wasn't white and blonde," everyone stared at Johanna who's crass personality was beginning to grow on me.

"How about red?" I suggested, remembering what I was told in my kind of psychotic dream. They had me in every manor of dress, from fluffy princess to short mini dress before we finally found a winner. It was long and sleek with only one shoulder. I ran my fingers over the silver beading on the shoulder strap and the X like pattern it made under my breasts.

"Perfect… I wish I had your curves," I twirled around, feeling the fabric cling to my body, watching the silver beads reflect the light.

I wasn't allowed to pay, I wasn't even allowed to argue or ask how funded a two hundred dollar dress for a total stranger… But it wasn't entirely for me, it was for Peeta. I couldn't bring the dress home today, it needed to be shortened considerably having been made for a six foot tall Amazonian, not five foot three inch me.

"We're going to go grab something to eat in town… You joining us Kat?" Annie asked closing the door to Madge's car who lived in the borough of Doylestown.

I shook my head, "I think I should get back to the Mellark's… erm home, thank you though," we were a short walk from main street, "I'll see you at school?"

Madge hugged me tightly, "Look both ways crossing Main, people blow that red light all the time."

"Thanks mom," I teased, hugging back, ruffling her hair a little before throwing my backpack over my shoulder.

I heard banging and thumps as I walked up the stairs to the Mellark's house, "Get your ball sack out of my face Ryan!" I threw open the door though it bumped into Ryan pinning Peeta to the ground, his groin in his face.

"Seriously?" I asked stepping over them, I proved to be enough of a distraction to give Peeta the upper hand. I sat on the back of the couch next to a perched Andrew.

"Ten bucks on Peeta," Andrew whispers in my ear as a leg knocks over a lamp.

"I'm not taking that bet, I don't' have any money… How'd this start?"

He just shrugged, "Same as always, one jumped on the other… You should join in, throw'em a curve ball," I gawked at the brawl, they were both laughing but in a street fight the one on the ground is usually the loser, paying in blood or his or her life.

"I'll jump on the winner," he puts his arm around my shoulders, "Let you pick off the scraps."

"I like the way you think kid…"

"Uncle… Rwagh! Uncle!" Ryan cried as Peeta bent his arm over his knee, the elbow bending as far as it could.

"Ready?" Andrew asked, I nodded as Peeta stood, "Threetwoone go!" in a matter of seconds Andrew had dove for Ryan, knocking him back to the ground and I launched myself onto Peeta's back, not knowing what I was doing from there.

He seemed shocked at first as my legs wrapped around his torso and my hands clutched to his muscular shoulders but he regained his barring, "They'll go at it until my parents pull them apart… Where to Madame?"

"Excuse me? It's mademoiselle… And… Erm… My room?"

It was amazing, every other exchange I had with the opposite sex was for the purpose of well, intercourse, with Peeta it was something more, not brotherly as it probably should…

But I felt so perfectly natural around him.

We fell into a natural groove, Peeta and I. We would leave for school around seven, meet up with everyone before dispersing to class, finally at 2:30 we'd walk home if we didn't have something after class (Which was only Monday and Friday's right now) every other day I'd finish up track or choir and watch the end of his wrestling practice.

Finally after dinner we'd park somewhere and finish whatever homework we didn't get done throughout the day. Our groove was comfortable, nothing could disrupt it, not my strange dreams, or his nightmares.

And for once I was at home, I actually felt like I belonged somewhere. I thought I had over a year to feel at home here, that nothing could threaten my happy bubble, or the natural groove of my now simple suburban life…

That was until I received a letter from Graterford, the state prison my father was serving his sentence at.

Thomas came up the stairs, flipping through the various magazines, bills and junk mail of the day before setting the envelope down in front of me while Peeta and I attempted to write our essay's for history class.

"Know anyone in Graterford?" he asked idly, ripping open a bill.

"My pops…" I gingerly opened it, as if any sudden movement would make the thing explode.

Trina,

You should come visit your old man sometimes.

-Dad

I gulped, "How… how did he find this address?" I asked, my voice cracking a little.

Thomas shrugged, "You're not in protective custody from him, only your mother and stepfather, technically he would have custody over you if he were released before your eighteenth birthday," I swallowed hard, nodding.

"That… that would be impossible… That couldn't happen," I felt the room spin, the screams piercing my ears, they weren't actually here, only in my head… Only in my memory, "I'm going to go for a walk…" I mumble bolting out the door before anyone could stop me. I needed to get out, get some fresh air… anything. I walked until I reached the Michener Museum easily climbing over the stone wall and dropping the ten or so feet to the dirt below, there was no grass for a good few feet, probably because this spot never got any sunlight. I kicked at a rock, reading the simple letter over and over as I made my way to a picnic table under the tree, standing on the top so I could pull myself up in the branches, feeling as if any minute something would pounce on me.

I winced as the rough bark scraped and dug into my hands and struggled to hoist my leg over some of the thicker branches but soon I was up in the tall branches reading over the letter, as if I was expecting something to change.

Why would he write me now?

Then I remembered…

My father was eligible for parole this year.

I tore up the paper into as many tiny pieces as I could before dropping them to the ground, no he couldn't be eligible! He shot a man! He force fed my mother heroin to keep her dependent on him… He was in prison for the last ten years…

I watched the sunset through the branches until my world grew dark.

I walked through the lonely streets of Doylestown, shops were closing, teenagers that have come to town to hang out have retreated to their safe cozy homes. The kind my father would take from me…

I didn't want to go back. I liked it here. I loved sleeping in an actual bed, not getting hit, feeling safe in my own home… Even if it was for a short time, this place was now my home…

Thomas and Lisa were seated at the kitchen table when I entered, "Feeling any better?" he asked, I just shook my head, "Why don't you have a seat?"

I felt tears pushing at my eyes as I sat down. I knew what I had to do, there were so many maybe's… I needed answers.

"Could one of you… Since I can't drive or get in without my guardian… Take me to see my father on Saturday?" I tugged at my sleeves, afraid to make eye contact.

"Of course honey…" a loving hand was placed on my arm and I flinched waiting for the hit that would never come, "And listen, if there is any reason you would fear for your safety in your father's custody, in the off chance he's paroled…"

I nod, "Tell my social worker so they can still put me back in his custody like they did with my momma when she got out," the dam broke and I slammed my hand on the table, "because he's probably a model inmate and he's changed so much" I hiss bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest and sinking into the chair, "Maybe he'll go to Puerto Rico and live with his folk," I raise my arms in the air, "He can do all the car jacking's and heroin he wants there!"

I rest my head on the table, my rant almost over, "¿Por qué oh por qué no puedo vivir fácilmente?"

Thomas chuckles, "I'm sorry Katrina, we didn't get that…" he squeezes my shoulder lightly, "But all you can do is see what he wants, we'll call your social worker in the morning, maybe she'll swing by since you have your physical in the morning…"

I just nod, "I think I'm just going to lay down… I'll be out for dinner," I push my chair in quietly walking down the dark hallway full of pictures of a loving family. I was never given that until I came here… Maybe I could give it to some kid someday…

I flopped down on my bed, neglecting to close the door as I felt for a scar in my mid-section, thin and delicate.

"Hey…" I didn't open my eyes, I knew it was Peeta.

"Hey… You can come in…" I continued tracing the scar, I could feel the glass in my side. The thick kind car windows are made of.

I heard his heavy footsteps and felt the bed shift as he sat down next to me, "You ok Kat?" his warm fingers brushed some hair away from my stitches, stitches I was getting out tomorrow.

"I've… I've never felt… home before…" I whisper, still tracing the scar, "Until now…"

I open my eyes, he's lying next to me staring at the fan, our legs hang over the bed only just touching, "He might not get custody of you maybe…"

"That's not how my luck works…"

He nudged me, "Maybe your luck's changing? You did get a 100 on that history test you weren't here for the material for."

I smiled, I didn't even cheat on that one, "Why are your parents foster parents?" I ask, without thinking taking his hand in mine, we don't lace fingers, just cup each other's hands.

"My aunt and uncle are in the Navy…" he says quietly, "My aunt had her two daughters, my cousin Maggie and Teresa before she met my uncle. When they were deployed again they knew if something happened there was a chance the kids could go into the system. My parents signed up just in case so the courts couldn't argue giving them to my mom and dad…"

I nod, it kind of made sense, "This is the first time someone's laid a hand on you and you didn't flinch," I blush a little.

"When I was eight… In my second home…"

"The Scotts?"

"Yeah…" I shudder, was a really about to tell him this? "They had me wash the dishes one night, and the water was so hot, my hands were burning, but I couldn't turn the taps down, Misses Scott wanted them as clean as my dirty hands could make them… The soap was so slippery…" I looked up at my still small hands, "I dropped one of her dishes, chipping it. She took me by the hair and locked me in the closet with no food or water for the next day… After slapping me first until my mouth bled…"

"Oh shit…" he squeezed my hand.

"When my mom would hit me as a child, it was only once… When I talked back, or when I did something wrong… That was my first actual beating… Ever since then…" I shrugged.

"Katrina… no one here is going to hit you… Well… Glimmer might want to, actually she may someday… Ugh, I'm not helping…" I turned my head to look at him, his arm thrown over his eyes.

"You actually are… I've never told anyone that…"

"Not even CPS?"

"No… I was afraid they'd hit me harder next time…" I traced the scar again and again and again until, enough for Peeta to notice and ask me about it, "It's from the night my father was arrested… I was five at the time. My father's only source of income was from a chop shop he ran with Ronnie… erm… My… Let's call him… My guy I used for physical things though he had a girlfriend and was five years my senior… well his dad," I turn my head back to him, "Don't judge me…"

"I'm not… I'm judging him."

"Well… My pops was hotwiring a car when the owner came up and… I was already in the front seat… He shot and glass fell cutting from here," I start at the top, "to here..." I roll onto my side, "the cops came and took him away, five days later my mother was busted for prostitution and a few other things like drug possession and what not," I waved it off, "Next thing I know I'm in my first home…" I sigh, facing him, "And that's the sad pathetic story of me…"

Katniss

"Effie? Effie! Damnit! For my escort you sure are late all the time…" I look down at my new body sleeping like a baby I haven't had this much control over my spirit in over a week, since I pulled the remaining bits of Katrina's subconscious together like I had to so it could be released and move on… But her damn pride kept her attached but only just.

"Sorry! And I'm impressed on how far you've gotten with her…" we watch the sleeping body, it's currently soulless so if someone tried to wake me it would possibly groan from Katrina's remaining bits, but would never rouse, "Crane is almost regretting letting you come back, with how strong your spirit is" she shrugged, "Too late now!"

I nod, slowly, "Is there anything I can do to speed this up?"

"Unfortunately no… When you go into her body the remaining bits of her take you over until you sleep… When you sleep you're Katniss, when your mind is awake you're Katrina. Images flash in my mind, a deep memory of Katrina's that's flashing through our mind, "You'd have to find a way to jog your memory in there… I've seen it done with home movies… or…"

"My journal!" I float down to my body and reach into the head, pulling out Katrina's subconscious, she remembered the red dress instructions.

"Wha… oh not you again!" she snapped.

"Katrina, I need you to listen to me, and listen good… In my bedroom, under the floorboard just under my bed are four journals… I need you to get them. Read them… I need to remember…" all of my out of body nights increased my risk of Shading which was ghost speak for turn into a poltergeist and make everyone's life a living hell twenty four seven as I haunted them until their dying day. I couldn't stop leaving my body at night though since we weren't fully fused yet… Her strong mind which refused to submit threw me out every night, weakening me more and more…

"What? How? I can't just ask your mom and dad to let me in your room I-"

She was right… she'd have to go at lunch, "My house is empty during the day, go at lunch… The code for our garage door is five three one seven, there's a hide a key for the front door under the third rock from the door on your left side, for the back door it's in the place where the propane tank is for the grill… My room is the first one at the top of the stairs…"

She cocks an eyebrow, about to argue, "You have to do this! I have to remember!" I plead, I couldn't shade, I just couldn't… I couldn't become a lost soul wandering and making everyone's life a living hell. As always I had the opportunity to move on, to abandon this, but Katrina, whose spirit had happily moved on according to Effie, would die, I couldn't do that to everyone. Though if I shaded she'd die anyway.

"I… I can't I…"

"You have to… I have to remember, for us, you're too strong, I have to remember!"

Everyone loves a good B and E (breaking and entering)