I am dancing with one of snooty, stuck up ladies-in-waiting at the ball.
"Everybody's staring at us Peeta," she says to me and I roll my eyes.
"Prince Peeta," I reply. And I know it's rude, but she is SO annoying. First of all she asked me to dance and being the King my dad is he wouldn't allow me to 'politely' turn her down. So here I am, dancing with Clove from Sector 2. Just as I'm thinking about purposefully knocking the two of us into a punch bowl with only intent on Clove getting wet I hear the sounds of screams for freedom and being set free. The screams of a desperate and ticked girl. Clove, I, and the rest of the people in the ballroom turn and gasp as a dirty and thrashing young girl, probably around my age is being hauled in trying to be contained by guards.
"What's going on?" I hear my mother ask.
"This girl and another have been reported for not going to mandatory events and this one for stealing and illegal poaching," says Boggs, the head guard.
"STEALING?! STEALING WHAT?"
"Bread, milk, cheese," says Plutarch, second in command.
"I BOUGHT THOSE STUFF WITH MY OWN MONEY! NOW LET ME GO!" she says in a pathetically failing attempt at escaping.
"That's not what our report says," Boggs answers.
"WHO CARES WHAT YOUR REPORT SAYS? I HAVE RIGHTS AND RIGHT NOW THEY ARE BEING VIOLATED! WHAT? YOU THINK IT'S EASY TO FEND FOR YOURSELF AND YOUR LITTLE SISTER?"
"Little sister?" I pipe. She calms down a bit and looks me into the eyes. For the first time I notice how silvery they are. Mystic, majestic, and glistening practically bathing in sparks of stubbornness and rebellion. I take a full bodilly look at her. Although she is quite dirty—no doubly from poaching—if you remove the mud, sweat, and dirt, there in front of you it the most beautiful creature ever to be seen. I'm snapped out of my thoughts when she throws a reply at me.
"Yeah, little sister. What's it to you rat face?" she spits making the room gasp. "Are you bent on killing seven-year-olds as well as their families."
"She's seven?" I ask, ignoring everything else she spit at me.
"You deaf or what?" she asks her eyes shooting daggars of hatred and something else that I cannot comprehend. I take a few steps closer which makes her squirm even more.
"Where are your parents?" I ask.
"What?" she says. I shuffle uncomfortably. I think I asked her something very sensitive because I can see the hurt in her eyes as she searches her memory.
"Uh, what's your name?" I ask her trying to change the subject.
"I don't have to tell you," she hisses regaining her tough additude.
"I will not have my son disrespected in such a manner," my father finally speaks up. She rolls her eyes at him and huffs at me.
"Where is my sister?" she growls.
"I'll tell you right after you tell me what your name is," I reply.
She mumbles something that sounds like Catnip, but I don't want to offend her so I ask the closet normal name possible. "Kathrine?" I ask.
"I said Katniss!" she replies annoyingly.
"Katniss," I repeat. "What a beautiful name," I tell her sincerely. I smile at her and she glares at me.
"Now tell me where my sister is!" she shouts.
"Boggs, where is the little girl?" my father asks him.
"Her name is Primrose!" Katniss shouts in defiance.
"I'll go get her sir," Plutarch offers and scurries out of the ballroom returning with a small pretty, little girl with blonde, curly ringlets, blue eyes, a pink dress, white leggings, and creame colored dress shoes. I smile at her and she looks shyly at me running to hide behind Boggs' leg.
"Your family doesn't seem too fond of me," I say to Katniss. She rolls her eyes at me. I breath in deeply and smile at Primrose. "It's okay sweetie," I tell Primrose, "I won't hurt you." Primrose cautiously steps out from behind Boggs' lag and slowly towards me. "Hi, my name's Peeta. What's yours?" I ask her.
"Primrose," she says in a small, high-pitched, melodic voice. "But my friends call me Prim."
"Well, Prim, if I can call you that—" I feel Katniss glaring daggars into the back of my head as Prim nods. "I hope your planning on staying for the rest of the party." I can hear a growl erupt from Katniss and I try my best not to smile.
"Can we?" she asks hopefully.
"Yes. Both of you," I say turning to Katniss, who looks as if she'll detonate in a matter of seconds.
"Yay! But can we go home first? Katniss left her dress at home!" Prim tells me. I nearly burst out laughing at the thought of the hostile girl in a dress. "Of course. But if I may ask, may I accompany you?"
"Yay!" Prim shouts. I pick her up and the guards drag Katniss along.
We step in the carriage and arrive at a hovel at the edge of Sector 12. Katniss picks up Prim and the guards and I follow them into the cottage. I look around. Except for a few beautifully crafts toys for Prim and a few books on shelves. There on the ground is lying an archery set, a bucket of fruits and berries that have spilled over, with a bucket of water, and a giant turkey with an arrow shot through the eye. Katniss grabs a sunset orange and pink dress from the window and make her way up the stairs. Just as I'm about to follow her she stops me.
"So you wanna watch me get dressed. I didn't know fancy smancy princes were perverts too," she grumps and I take a step back.
"Sorry," I apologize. When she comes back down she looks even better than what I saw under all that dirt. She's showered and has her wavy hair pulled to one side and has on the sunset orange and pink long-sleeved sparkling gown with peach roses and pearls sewn along the ball gown-like skirt. With peach lipstick and nude eyeshadow she smiles down at little Prim revealing the yellow ribbon ties in her curly locks. I look up at her in admiration as her white heels click against the steps. She isn't looking at me either hate anymore, but more of a distant curiosity and that other emotion I still can't place.
"You look gorgeous," I tell her and I can feel heat rushing to my cheeks. I'm not sure but I think her cheeks are turning a faint shade of pink.
"You know, you don't have to lie to me," she says. She takes Prim hand, making her way back to the carriage, simply brushing me off.
I sigh. "But I wasn't lying," I mutter. I think Plutarch heard me becausehe gives me that teasing fatherly look which makes me turn red. I look back at Katniss who is playing with her sister and smile. I like you, maybe you can learn to like me, I think.