Another chapter by Azalea! :P I'll write the next chapter I promise! She put the flashbacks in italics, just so you know what's going on. XD Please review! :D
P POV
When it is time for lunch, I see that Annie has already brought Katniss to our table. Once we all have our food, we sit talking and laughing. I am filled with relief as I realize how comfortable Katniss is with my friends. She talks to Madge mostly, but I don't blame her for that; Madge and I were her closest friends before she left.
"So, you said you guys were best friends when you were ten, right?" Annie asks.
"Right," I confirm. "But we met when we were about eight."
"Do we get a story?" Finnick teases.
"Yeah, tell us the story," Delly says, giggling.
"Well..." Katniss starts.
The scene begins to play out in my mind as she describes it.
I stood behind the counter in the bakery with my dad when we heard someone walk in. It was a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, but her daughter had black hair and grey eyes. My father told me to call the woman Mrs. Everdeen and the little girl Katniss. Mrs. Everdeen and my father began to talk, and she explained that they had just come from a dance class. But the little girl lost interest in her mother's conversation quickly. She wandered over to the corner of the bakery and dropped her bag. She then reached up and pulled her hair out of the bun so that her hair fell over her shoulders in thick, black waves.
"What?" she asked, making me realize that I was still staring.
"Nothing," I said, shrugging. "I'm Peeta."
"Katniss," she said as she braided her hair.
I looked down and realized that she was standing on her toes as she looked around the room.
"How come you're standing like that?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Practicing, I guess. My mom said that if I practice, I'll be a good dancer."
"You wanna be a dancer?"
"Not really, but my mom wants me to," she said. "It makes her happy when I dance. Know why?"
"Why?" I asked.
"'Cause I'm the best dancer in the world," she joked.
She giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh, too; Her smile was too contagious.
"What about you?" she asked. "What do you wanna be?"
"A painter," I said. "I could paint you right now, if you want."
She smiled again, making me do the same.
"Okay," she said, giggling a little.
"Katniss!" Mrs. Everdeen called from the counter. "It's time to go home!"
"Maybe next time," Katniss said, picking up her bag.
"Hey, wait!" I called as she started to walk away.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Do you wanna be friends?" I asked.
She smiled one more time and shrugged.
"Okay," she said before following her mother.
After that, Katniss and I would spend time together when one of her parents came to the bakery. We would stand in the corner, just talking. Katniss always stood on her toes, and I always watched her, wondering if she would ever go down. She never did. She even showed me some new dance moves that she had learned if we had nothing to talk about, which only happened once or twice. We did this from the age of eight all the way to ten, until her father announced that they were moving. We stood in our corner, like we always did. But instead of talking, she hugged me for the first time and told me that she would write me every time she could get her hands on a pen and paper.
"Aw, what a cute story," Delly squeaks, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Yes, I remember the days when it wasn't weird to just ask someone if they want to be friends," Madge sighs.
"I miss those days," Annie agrees.
"I never did that," Gale cuts in. "I always thought that was weird."
"Your face is weird," Annie retorts. Madge giggles.
"I like his face!" Katniss jokes.
Gale smiles triumphantly, and Annie smirks. But I start to feel something strange. Anger? No, that's not it. What would I be angry about, anyway? I try to shrug it off. We all keep talking until the lunch period is over. We return our trays, and I head straight for Katniss.
"What do you have now?" I ask.
"Choir," she responds. "You?"
"Art," I say. "They're close to each other, so I can walk with you."
"Good," she says, smiling.
"So, I wanted to ask you something," I say.
"Shoot," she chirps.
"Why did you stop writing?" I ask.
"Oh..." she says quietly, looking down at her feet as we walk. "Well, that is... not something I can explain in the five minutes before class."
"When can you tell me, then?"
"After school?" she suggests.
"Sounds good," I say, stopping in front of the music room. "Here we are!"
"Great," she says, faking a smile again. "I'll see you later, then."
xXx
At the end of the day, I find her waiting near the doors. I smile and walk right up to her, leading her into the courtyard. Only when she says nothing do I realize that whatever she wants to tell me must be pretty bad. We sit down next to the trees where our friends will come to meet us.
"So, what happened?" I ask after a few seconds of silence.
"Um..." she starts. "When we moved, there were so many new classes and competitions."
"I know," I cut in. "You told me in your letters."
She smiles just the slightest bit, but her face turns serious quickly.
"When I was eleven, I had a very important competition to go to," she explains, even though I already know this from her letter. "It was pretty far from where we lived, so we didn't have time to actually move or anything. So, my dad decided to take me there, and then he would just record it so that Prim and my mom could see it. See, I had to get there a few hours earlier, so he decided to drive around until the show started. Find something to eat, maybe. I don't know. But when I went on, he wasn't there. I figured that maybe I just couldn't see him in the audience. But then, the show was over, and I was waiting for him to come and get me, but he didn't. The only person left was the teacher, waiting with me, but there was nobody there for me. The teacher called my mom, and she called the police, and..."
"And what?" I pressed.
"They found him," she croaks before clearing her throat. "They found him in his car. On the side of the road. He was in an accident. By the time they found him, he was..."
She shakes her head slightly. I know that she doesn't want to say the last word, so I don't make her. I only take her hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"Anyway," she continues. "That's why it was so hard to write. I tried to, but it just didn't feel the same, I guess. I'm sorry."
"It's all right," I say.
"It already took so much energy just to keep dancing. I only did it because it made my mom happy. Well, not exactly happy, but she always felt just a little bit better when I danced."
"Why didn't you tell me about any of this?" I ask.
"This isn't exactly something I could write in a letter," she snorts. "I would've told you sooner if I could."
She squeezes my hand once, but then she lets go and picks up her bag.
"Your friends are coming," she points out.
"Our friends," I remind her.
"Okay, Corny," she teases.
I chuckle and help her up so that we can join the group.