Hi guys! Sorry for not writing for such a long time! I went on a family vacation and after that I got distracted. So here is chapter 4, and please enjoy! Also, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, REVIEW! thank you!

I don't own the hunger games, just my own characters. Sadly I cannot control Katniss and Peeta, for then I would have them meet Jedi, half bloods and save Finnick and Primrose. Oh well...

The evening was cool with a pink sky waiting to vanish as the night set in. The halls felt forbidding with nobody in sight. All was quiet as Rose walked past the rows of lockers. Finally, she was there, at the chorus room. She could have taken a path closer to the entrance, one that students are more likely to use. But it was the solitude. For a strange reason, Rose felt anxious. Only the band geeks and teacher pets care. This shouldn't matter; she didn't care about image (well, maybe) and she didn't need to prove this to Miss. Caroline. Now, calm and ready as ever, she walked through the doors to what later seems to flash by.

Bits and pieces still can be remembered. Rose remembered being handed an instruction sheet. She remembers hearing the excitement and seeing groups of older students. She remembers Lilly kicking up her feet on the chairs and declaring herself an audience member. She remembers Apollo's efforts to convince Lilly otherwise. She remembers 's attempt to move Lilly elsewhere, so she won't be in the way of auditions. Finally, the teacher allowed the stubborn girl to be a small part of the supporting cast if she moves or better yet; leaves. Later, Rose vaguely remembers Lilly explaining this is what she wanted the whole time, to not work too hard on a part she won't particularly care about but to have a small piece of credit when it's time to perform.

Still, Rose recalls of when she waited in the wings, waiting. Her feet felt light as her name was called.

"Rose Victoria Mellark?"

The 14-year-old peeked behind her, sure that someone should been waiting after her in line for their turn. Strangely no one was there; surely she wasn't the last in line, was she? When the conclusion was made that she was the last of the auditions, Rose stepped onto the stage. Why was she so damn nervous? Get a grip, she told herself. "Hello, I like to sing one of your selected songs for the altos," Well, that was formal, maybe too formal, she thought. At least she didn't start freaking out like a girl she saw earlier who started crying, begging the world for her to do amazing.

Rose glanced further at the page. The top was ripped off for the directors containing personal information including type of voice and address, like the Victors' Village. The bottom instructed which songs are available to audition with and it included one verse for each. Most of the music are found to be written and made popular before the destruction of countries and the birth of Panem. Rose recognize as well that they were all once classical musicals, probably ones being revived now that the country isn't as divided. It was another benefit and outcome of having a teacher who was educated in the Capital with a love of the arts.

"I like to do Somewhere Over the Rainbow." She continued. Miss. Caroline reassured her with a smile and started the opening notes. "Somewhere, over the rainbow," and there she went, describing the lemon drops, and chimney tops. Rose closed her eyes; it was so simple, so easy. She relaxed and used the music to transfer the message of a wonderland through the sound.

"Please, would you sing another?"

Rose looked up. Miss. Caroline wasn't demanding more, but her expression made it clear. "Am I doing well? I wasn't expecting anything but alright…" there wasn't anything else good that she knew. Then a thought occurred; if the teacher wanted music, this would have to do. "Can I sing the Valley song?" The woman didn't answer, she just waited.

"Down in the valley…" here she was again, now describing a lover who may be heartbroken without a hug and how the wind breezes. "Send it in care of Birmingham Jail." The song ended. It was an old folk song that her grandmother taught her, especially when granddad Peeta was around and her hair was in braids. But it always confused her where Birmingham is, let alone the jail itself.

Miss. Caroline looked at her speechless. How was it she taught here in District 12, a boring place compared to others even if it rebuilt itself, for 3 ½ years and get a performance that is completely unexpected? The child is a natural, not one of the wannabee suck-ups that she ends up casting. And she isn't even interested in what music has to offer? Such an interesting case that Miss. Caroline took notice of when she was listening to the alto section back in September. The girl doesn't try to stand out, it just happened that her voice reached the teacher's ears. Miss. Caroline waited for the directors to comment then realized that she was the one to take charge. "Is there anything else you would like to show-off, a talent useful for the production of this musical?"

A memory resurfaced in Rose's mind. It was of her father and her grandmother back when grandma Katniss was younger and more fit to take a stroll through the woods. Rose was five or six, and was just eager to explore. Her father chuckled, thinking of her mother concerned that she might run through poison ivy. The three of them began bird whistles and teaching Rose about how robins fly south for the winter, what chirp does a blue jay make and how to avoid wild dogs. They stopped at the sight of a mockingjay, when her grandma muttered, "Pollux." Her humming began, of a haunting melody filled with rope necklaces. It reminded Rose of something.

"Can I whistle for you? I know some bird calls." Again the teacher didn't answer so she continued by demonstrating what a red tailed hawk would sound like, how a cardinal sings, until something Rose didn't intend on doing flowed out of her mouth. The audition was 8 minutes already, maybe a new record, and perhaps it was either she wasn't focusing correctly or it was fate.

Her whistling morphed into the melody she heard long ago, under a bird whose voice is harmony from the lips of Katniss Everdeen Mellark herself. It was eerie, sending a chill down everybody's back, yet spellbound until the only line Rose knew, "If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."

To Miss. Caroline, it reminded her of a time when her family was tragically spilt over conflict. The war was a time of Rebel vs. Capitol, and unfortunately relatives who lived in Capitol vs. loved ones in District 5.

The group of fellow directors ( a piano teacher, a choreographer, and the social studies teacher) were reminded of a commercial (it was believed they were called propos, but who knew? Only those high in ranks of the rebellion had information) long ago. It was of a woman of similar features singing the same song. The apple didn't fall far from the tree of the Mockingjay.

The clapping started, and figuratively, it would never stop. Rose, take your applause…