4 Weeks Later

"Mom, what're you doing?"

My mom looks up to find me standing, watching her from around the corner. She looks back down at the cardboard box she was kneeling beside. "Some old photos."

I look at them, some in frames, some in books, and some just loose photographs. Immediately one sticks one that makes me stare. My older sister.

Mom sees it too, but acts like she doesn't. She doesn't really like talking about it at all. In the 6 years that my sister's been dead, she might have mentioned her name twice. I'm not even sure that Pine really remembers her. I do, though.

I was ten at the time, during the 68th Annual Hunger Games. She was seventeen. My older sister, I mean. Her name was Silt, like the soil. She had the same hair as mine, but longer. She was prettier than me too and she was smart. I had two years left to go before I entered the Reaping.

"Can I have that picture, mom?" I ask, pointing to the a photo of us four girls. It was taken some eight years ago, when Pine was four, I was eight, and Silt was fourteen. Mom still looks the same. The picture, however, is a sepia tone which makes us look more yellowish-brown.

She silently hands over it with a slight smile. "I like that one."

"Me too," I murmur. For a few minutes I sit with her before she puts the box back inside a cupboard. I hold the photo of us four in my hand before I take it upstairs and place it beside my bed, on my bedside table. I forgot we really had photographs.

1 Week Later

I cough so hard my throat starts burning. Again.

"Pine!" I croak as loud as I can, hoping my voice will carry down the stairs. Sure enough, my sister floats up the steps, her eyes wide.

"Yes, Fern?" she asks sweetly, blinking her big eyes.

I smile for a moment, despite the pain, and look at her. She's still like she was two years ago. Just her. Slight, blonde, bubbly, sweet. "Can you bring me a glass of juice?"

She nods before retreating back downstairs. Three days ago, I got sick. Now my cheeks are as red as my hair, my throat's raw, I have the chills, and I'm running a temperature. Just a cold, apparently. Although, I don't have the stuffed or runny nose which is a good thing.

A knock sounds downstairs and I hear my mom answer it before letting someone in. Axel? For a moment I hope it's him. Seeing his face would cheer me up exponentially but when I hear the light, yet sure footsteps coming up the stairs I know who it is: Johanna.

She enters my room with a big smile. "Hey, Red. How are you feeling?"

"Great!" I chirped or something close to it. I still sounded like a frog. "Being sick just makes me so happy."

She unwound her tan scarf, tossing it to the side of my dresser before pulling a chair up to my bedside. "I figured I'd come talk to you. Lying in bed with a cold is something I don't know much about."

"Yeah, yeah, Johanna the fighter," I say mock-angrily. She only had to stay in bed two days after her Games for her malnutrition and minor injuries. She's been the predator in her games even though she acted like the prey for a good part of it.

"So, you have my knowledge and experiences. What do you want to hear about?" she asks me quickly, leaning forward and clasping her hands on her knees.

I think for a moment and consider asking her about her family. Instead, I blurt, "how did you meet Finnick? How'd you become such good friends?"

She grins, flashing her sharp, white teeth before speaking. "I was mentoring you, actually. On that first day in the Victor's Lounge, I saw him over there by the food table. It was piled high with, well you've seen what those Capitol freaks like to eat: everything. But there was only one doughnut left. Or at least until the got restocked. I saw him over there."

I could picture it in my head. Johanna watching Finnick while he stood at a table with grapes, juices, jellies, toast, eggs, meats, puddings, yogurts, apples, oranges, and whatever else the victors there might want.

"Anyway, Johanna continues. "He was about to get the doughnut when I picked it up. He just looked at me and said 'I was going to eat that, you know. I wanted it.' I took a bite, shrugged, and said 'I wanted the doughnut too.'" She laughs, remembering, and I smile.

It was so... Johanna.

Hey everybody! So, this chapter wasn't that important. I just wanted to get something out there. I had that idea with the doughnut in my head for a long time. It was original glazed, just so you know.

I'll type something next that has to do with the Mockingjay being Katniss and other stuff, but right now I'll just leave it at this. Hopefully Johanna's story inspires you. I feel like it's not quite how I remember it, but I hope it's Johanna enough for you.

Well, sorry it's taken me so long to add this. Still so much write for this story!

Thanks for reading! Review, id you'd like! I love hearing from you all! Or PM me! Or both!

~Meghan