HELLO EVERYONE! I know I've been silent on the Everlark fic world for a good while now. This is my new baby that I've been working on for quite some time, hence the silence. I'm not quite finished with it yet - and it's unlike me to start posting before I'm completely done - but I have good reason. I know exactly how I want it to go, but the motivation to get there is not happening for me. So I figured by posting what I do have (which is a very large chunk) and getting feedback from you all, it'll give me the push I need to finish this monster.

I'm so excited to introduce you guys to the new world for Everlark that I've created. I've based it in the town where I grew up, though all the names are of course changed. It's a little different than what I've read before where it's based in Panem, but I hope you guys will like it anyway. You know how I feel about the intimacy of knowing location with my stories. It's very important to me! So I did the best I could with this one.

With all that said, enjoy Never Let You Go. :)

KATNISS

On the first official day of summer, I wake up and the sheets beneath me are drenched and I can hear my little sister blasting the Hannah Montana Movie soundtrack in the room next to mine. The movie is seven years old, she was only four when it came out, but she doesn't care. The song Let's Get Crazy is playing so loud that I can feel the poppy bass inside my veins.

I pound on the wall and screw my eyes shut tight. "Shut up!" I shout, dragging the words out for much longer than necessary. "I'm trying to fucking sleep."

"Telling Dad you swore!" she calls out over the music, and I pull my covers up over my head. It's not as easy as I hoped to fall back to sleep because of how much I've sweated overnight; there's no air conditioning to speak of in this house.

"Shut up," I groan again, and the song switches toHoedown Throwdown. "I swear to god, I'm going to…" I mutter under my breath, and then throw my covers away and storm up from my bed. In just my underwear and cami, I stomp the four steps between our bedroom doors and throw hers open.

She lets out a small shriek, but her face is gleeful. "Turn it down," I growl, and stalk over to her stereo that had once been mine before I got a used iPhone. Prim is only eight, she doesn't even have an iPod yet and she probably won't for a long time. We don't have that kind of money to throw around. "It's the first day of summer. I'm trying to sleep in."

"It's past lunch," she informs me, standing up from her bed. She's dressed in a full hand-me-down outfit; jean shorts and a faded striped shirt with a chest pocket. I had worn those clothes six years prior. "Dad said get up."

"You said get up. Dad didn't say anything."

"He told me to get you up. So I did."

I glare at her. "I don't believe you."

Her blue eyes widen. "Ask him! He said so!" She plants her hands on her nonexistent hips. "Dad!" she calls.

"Stop!" I extend my arms out straight in efforts to shut her up. "Mom is probably sleeping."

"She's always sleeping," Prim says, shrugging, and then Dad appears in the doorway.

"What's going on?" he asks. "What's all the noise? Your mother's trying to sleep."

I whip my head back around to glare at my little sister. "See. Told you."

"You said to wake her up. So I did. And then she said the f-word at me."

I close my eyes and clench my fists at my sides. "I did not."

"She did so."

"Katniss…" Dad sounds exhausted, and I immediately feel responsible. "Primrose. Please."

"Dad, I didn't mean…"

"It's fine, Kat," he says. "Just get in the shower and get dressed. We gotta go."

I follow him out of Prim's room all the way to the top of the stairs. "Go?" I ask. "Go where?"

He sighs. "You and your sister are signed up for community ed theater camp."

I stop in my tracks. "Wait, what? Theater camp? You're kidding. Dad."

He turns around and looks me dead in the eyes, and I can clearly see that he isn't joking. "It's to get you out of the house. You know how long the summers can get when you two are holed up here."

"Yeah," I fight back, not letting him escape down the stairs. "That's what summer's supposed to be like. The school year is crazy for me, dad. I work, I do soccer, I do all this stuff, and the summer is the only time I get."

He throws up his hands in submission. "Wasn't my idea."

"Mom?" I ask snidely. "Seriously. What say does mom have-"

"Katniss," he says, stopping me. "Enough. Be ready downstairs in thirty minutes, no buts."

I trudge back into my room, careful not to slam the door when I close it. If I did, I'd be in deep shit. In the shower, I go on an inner tirade of everything wrong with this picture. My mom should have absolutely zero say in what Prim and I do this summer because she never does anything with us. If I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times that it's not her fault that she's the way she is, but that doesn't change the fact that she shouldn't get to plan our every free moment.

I'm mad at my dad at the same time for not sticking up for us. He knows how busy my schedule gets during school. Summer is my only reprieve.

I come out of the bathroom squeezing my wet hair into a towel, and see Prim waiting on my bed in the same ratty outfit from earlier. "Prim…" I say, digging around in my dresser. "You need to change clothes."

"Why?" she asks.

"We're going somewhere. Those are play clothes. Go put on something nicer. How about that old yellow dress of mine?"

She sighs softly and stands up, walking past me to go through our bathroom into her own room. When she comes back, she's in the yellow dress with tiny sunflowers printed on it.

"And did you sleep in those braids?" I ask, pulling on a fresh pair of underwear under my towel. Prim nods. "Sit down on the floor," I say. "I'm gonna redo them."

She tugs at the end of one. "Why?"

I sigh exasperatedly, facing my back towards her as I put on a bra. "Because they're all messed up. I'm not letting you go out like that."

She sits down on the floor and waits for me as I pull on a pair of cloth black shorts and an army green t-shirt. I twist my hair into a quick, wet French braid and then sit on my bed above Prim so I can quickly separate her hair into two neat braids.

"Shower day when we get home," I say gently, patting the top of her head once I'm done. It's my job to not only be her sister, but her mother, too.

In the car, I sit in the front seat next to Dad and Prim sits in the back. She, of course, has requested that we listen to Top 40 radio, so the tinny sound of her singing along to Closer by the Chainsmokers is right next to my ear. Prim's music is what we always listen to, so I find myself gravitating to it more than I'd like to admit. My foot is tapping before the song is even halfway over.

Dad clears his throat when we're at the stop sign before my high school, where this camp is. "You know the new family that moved in down the street?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, only half paying attention. I have my chin resting in my palm, looking out the window at the rest of the kids not getting dropped off by their dads. I have my license, just not my own car.

"Well, I told them that you'd be friendly with their son. His name is Peeta, he's about your age…"

"Come on, dad…" I mutter, lifting my head up from my hand. "First theater camp, now I'm being assigned friends."

He purses his lips. "It's a nice gesture, Katniss. And you can never have too many friends."

"Yes," I say, my hand poised on the door handle as the car comes to a rolling stop. "You can."

"Promise me that you'll make him feel welcome," Dad says, ducking his head to keep eye contact with me as I get out of the front seat of the car. "He's standing right by the door. See? The one with the blonde hair over there." Dad waves in his direction, and the guy waves back.

"Fine," I say. "Come on, Prim."

She holds my hand at first as we walk away from the car, but then spots some friends from school. She drops my hand instantly and runs off to talk to them, her braids flopping and hitting her back with each bounding step she takes.

My stomach sinks with dread. The last thing I want to do is make friends at this thing, and I have plenty of friends at school anyway. They're who I want to spend summer with, not a bunch of theater geeks.

"Hi," I say once I reach him, and I try to make my voice sound not so glum. "I'm Katniss. My dad said that you're new here."

He smiles and I see his Adam's apple bob with the effort. "Yeah," he says, and extends his hand for me to shake. "I'm Peeta Mellark. Nice to meet you."

I grip his hand and notice it's practically dripping with sweat. I try to make wiping it on my shorts look inconspicuous.

"So, um, why did you sign up for theater camp?" he asks.

I lean against the stair railing, settling my weight back into my elbows. "I didn't," I say. "I got told this morning that we were coming here. It wasn't really a 'signup' sort of deal. It was more like a 'get out of the house' sort of deal. My sister, she's over there," I point my finger towards Prim. "She'll have fun. She likes this shit." I shake my head. "I hate it."

"Oh, um…" He clears his throat. "I don't really know how I feel about it. I figured I might as well try, you know?" He waits for me to respond, but I don't. "My dad suggested I sign up, and I thought it was a good idea."

I nod silently and then notice everyone gathering by the main doors, heading inside as it was about to start. "Guess we better head in," I say. "Wouldn't want to miss anything."

We sit in rickety old theater chairs and I keep a watchful eye on Prim as the coordinator speaks. She's sitting with a group of friends, but I make sure not to lose sight of her blonde head anyway.

We're broken up by age groups, and Prim gives me a wave before heading off with her people. I'm left in a smaller sized group with Peeta and a handful of other kids our age, ones that I don't recognize from school. They have the homeschooled vibe to them, which makes me instantly standoffish. Peeta, on the other hand, is a natural socialite. He makes conversation that flows easily, and when he feels me watching him, he includes me though I hadn't asked.

We all sit in a circle for the first exercise. We already had to sit through a lecture on the importance of knowing the who, what, when, and where of theater, which droned on and on forever. It all seems so trivial and I can't find it within myself to care.

"So let's go around the circle and answer this one question," our leader, Effie, says. "If you were an animal, what would you be, and why?"

I roll my eyes. People take their turns and say a butterfly, an eagle, a wolf, all things cliché. I scoff under my breath at a few of the more ridiculous ones, and only pay attention when Peeta says that he'd be a chameleon.

"So I could blend into my surroundings. It would make it pretty easy for me to fit in, you know, if people couldn't even see me."

His answer resonates with me and I spend a minute thinking it over as I stare at the dusty floor. I think about it for so long that I don't even realize that it's my turn until the leader calls my name.

"Katniss? How about you?"

The disdainful feeling is back. I wish I was anywhere else but here right about now. "Roadkill," I say, deadpan.

She narrows her eyes at me. "That's not an animal. Be specific."

"A raccoon, then. Dead as a doornail."

Effie stares me down but I stare at her right back. I cross my arms and she backs down before I do, breaking our eye contact. "And why's that?" she asks.

"Because then I'd be on the side of the road and not here," I say, and I hear Peeta trying to stifle his laughter.

She doesn't acknowledge my answer; she just moves on to the next person. Peeta catches my eye as he's still giggling, and I can't help but return his smile.

After that exercise, Effie has us lay on the floor to concentrate on our breathing. My now-undone hair fans out around my head and I fold my hands together over my protruding ribcage, feeling my breaths go in and out quickly. There's no way I'm going to be able to relax with all of these strangers around me, so I don't even try.

"Katniss, try and breathe a little easier," Effie comments, walking close to me. Her feet are right by my head, and if she's not careful she's going to step on my hair. "Close your eyes and just think about your breath, that's it."

I close my eyes, but don't pay my breath any mind. All I can think about is just how much I want to get out of here.

"This is so stupid," I hiss, just loud enough so Peeta can hear.

I open my eyes and see that his are still closed, but he's grinning. "You're gonna get us in trouble," he says.

"I don't care," I respond, bending my knees up so I can tap my foot impatiently.

"That's not very Zen of you," he chides.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well."

Camp drags on forever, lasting all the way until 4pm. Prim finds me where I'm standing by the wall close to the stairs when the day is over. Peeta is sitting on the bottom step, messing around on his iPhone 6. I feel self-conscious of the iPhone 4 that's in my shoulder bag, so I don't make a move to pull it out, not even to give my hands something to do.

"Katniss!" Prim says enthusiastically, running up to me and throwing her arms around my waist. The brunt of her weight against me forces me against the wall, but I return the hug and pat her back.

Peeta turns his head to look up at us and then flashes a shy, if not a bit awkward, smile. We all share a moment of strained silence until I realize what I have to do. "This is my sister, Prim. Prim, Peeta. You know, the guy who Dad wanted us to be friends with."

"Oh, yeah," she says, flouncing over to him. "You just moved in on our street, right?"

"Yeah," he says. "That's me."

"His family is opening a new bakery in town," I say, repeating what he told me earlier.

Her blue eyes widen with excitement. "I wanna go!" she trills.

"It opens in October," Peeta says, and I can hear the pride in his voice. "You guys should come in on opening day."

Prim looks to me for approval. I shrug one shoulder. "We'll have to see."

My attention gets caught by the sight of Dad's car pulling up to the pickup lane, and my stomach jumps with excitement because we finally get to leave.

"Oh, there's Dad," I say, and take Prim's wrist. "We gotta go. See you around, Peeta."

Both Prim and I wave as we hurry off towards the car, and I let out a long groan as I buckle myself in and Dad drives away from the building after giving Peeta a wave.

"So?" he asks. "How was it?"

"I had so much fun!" Prim says.

"I'm not going back there again," I say. Dad gives me a look. "I'm not," I repeat. "I'll gladly walk Prim there in the mornings, but there is no way that you can force me to step back inside that place. It was torture."

"She talked to that one boy," Prim says.

Dad raises his eyebrows. "Is that why you don't want to go back?"

I screw up my face. "No," I say. "I don't want to go back because everything they made me do was stupid and not relevant to my life."

Dad sighs. "Well, I still want you there. I don't care how dumb it was, it's good for you to get out of the house."

I grip the handle on the armrest. "Dad, please," I say, my voice rising.

"No, Katniss," he says. "Just give it some time."

"It's only going to get worse," I grumble, slumping against my seat. "Can you just drop me off at Gale's?"

Dad doesn't answer, but he turns down the next street. When he pulls up in front of my boyfriend's house, he puts the car in park and leaves it running. "Be home for dinner," he says.

"Can I come in with you?" Prim asks.

"No," I say. "I'll see you later."

I walk towards the house and when I see the Trump sign in Gale's front yard, I practically scream. I'm in a bad enough mood as it is, and seeing that just makes it worse. The only car in the driveway is his, which means that he's here and his mom and dad aren't. I was hoping that would be the case, because if he had been gone at football practice then I would've had to walk all the way home.

"What the fuck is that sign in the yard?" I call out once I'm inside. I hear movement from upstairs, and stand in the foyer looking up.

He peeks his head out over the railing so I can see the shit-eating grin on his face. "Dad put that out," he says. "You like it? Come up."

I kick off my shoes and can feel myself fuming. "No," I say. "I don't fucking like it. It's horrible. He's a horrible person, Gale."

"It's just a joke," he says. "Him running and stuff. He'll never make it past the primaries."

"You still don't have to have the sign up," I say, plopping down on his bed. "It's offensive."

He scoffs. "Offensive. Offensive, like what? To who?"

"To me," I say.

"To you," he says, rolling his eyes. "What's so offensive about it to you? You're not running against him."

"Because I'm a woman," I say. "It's offensive to all women. He's made it pretty clear that he hates women."

"What? How?" Gale laughs. "Plus, you're a girl. Come on. Don't say woman like that, it makes you sound old."

"It's the same difference," I say. "Take the sign down."

"No," he says. "It's my dad's. I'm not touching it."

"I'm going to come here in the middle of the night and torch it," I say.

"Dare you," he says. "You won't do shit."

"I'm thinking about it."

"Uh-huh," he says, raising his eyebrows. "All talk no action. Familiar, familiar."

I raise my lip. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on," he says, pulling me closer to him and massaging my shoulders with his strong hands. "Stop trying to start shit."

I lay back on the bed with my arms stretched above my head. My shirt billows up to expose my stomach with the breeze coming from the fan in the corner, and he slips his hand under the hem to touch my skin.

"I'm not starting shit," I say, bending my knees. "I'm telling you that you shouldn't support Trump because it makes me not want to date you."

"Shut up about him already…" Gale says, rolling over on his side so his body is pressed along the length of mine. "I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"I don't either," I say, feeling his lips on the curve of my jaw. "But with the sign out there, it's hard not to. You started it."

"No, you did," he says, nipping at my earlobe.

Chills make the hair on my arms stand up as he blows gently into my ear. "Stop…" I say, a smile playing on my lips as I squirm away from him. He holds me in place with one arm heavy across my hips, though.

"Stay," he whispers, and kisses my neck. I turn my head so he can fit easier, and his hand skims up beneath my shirt to gently graze my breast, tracing the underwire without moving any further.

"You really should take the sign down," I say softly, letting my hands wander over his back.

"I'll think about it," he says.

"He's a misogynist," I say, as Gale's teeth graze my pulse point. "He's anti-feminist."

"And you're a feminazi," he says. "We all have our faults. Now, please, please be quiet so I can kiss you."

Even though I want to find it within myself to continue being pissed off, his lips on my skin feels crazy good from the shit day I've had. He kisses the skin made bare by the V in my shirt, and then makes his way down to lift the bottom fabric up over my bra so my top half is basically entirely uncovered.

He anchors his hands on either of my breasts and gives them a rough squeeze, keeping his grip there as he presses kisses on the warm skin of my abdomen. His grip is a bit tight on my chest so I situate myself in attempts to wordlessly let him know, but it doesn't change.

"Loosen up," I finally say, and shift his wrists myself.

"What?" he asks, lifting his face to look at me.

"You're grabbing me like you're operating a forklift. Be gentle."

"You're too fucking sensitive," he says, and then moves his hands down from my breasts to my hips, where he messes with the drawstring of my cloth shorts. He goes to untie the string, but I grab his hand before he can.

"Stop," I say, and sit up against the headboard.

"Come on," he groans, throwing his head back and running his hand through his raven hair like I've done him such a disservice. "You're such a fucking tease, Katniss."

"I didn't come over here to have sex," I say, pulling my shirt back down to cover myself. "I just wanted to hang out."

"Then you shouldn't have let me keep kissing you," he says, his voice pouty like a little kid's. "I still don't get what the holdup is. We've done it before, what's stopping you from doing it again?" My eyes flit all around the room and can't help but pause between his legs, where his pants are bulged from his apparent erection.

"I just don't want to right now," say, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Right now or ever. Then when?" he asks. "I'm tired of it. You already gave it to me twice. I know a million other girls who'd do it with me in like, seconds." I glare at him. "Not that I would, Jesus. I'm just saying. I could."

"You giving me an ultimatum really, really helps," I say sarcastically.

"I'm not trying to… ugh!" He throws his hands up in the air. "You never fucking listen to me."

"If you don't want to wait, then maybe you shouldn't be with me," I state simply.

"That's not what I mean," he says, growing increasingly angry. "I want to be with you. I love you, goddammit. I just want moreof you, okay? I got it before, so it's hard not to fucking think about it. I just want to do what all other couples do. You won't even let me see you naked anymore."

"I know we did it before," I say. "And I won't let you see me naked because I know it'll lead to other things."

"And what would be so wrong with that?"

"I don't know!" I blow up, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I stand up from the bed and straighten my clothes for a second time. "I should just go. I shouldn't have come."

"Wait, Katniss, stop…" he says, his voice softer and different. "Don't go. Don't be mad."

I shake his hand off where he's grabbed me. "I'm not mad," I insist. I do not want to start crying on front of him; in fact, that's the last thing I want. I've never cried in front of him before and I don't plan on starting now. I never let people see me cry, specifically Gale. "I just want to go home."

He follows me down the stairs and keeps his eyes on me as I put my shoes on. "Do you want a ride?" he asks.

I shake my head, staring down at the laces I'm tying up.

"Are you pissed off at me?" he asks pitifully.

"I said no," I repeat, sniffling in.

"Are you crying?"

"No!" I practically shout, and then take it down a notch. "I already said that. I'm not." I'm halfway out the door when I say, "See you tomorrow. Or something."

PEETA

After Katniss leaves, I stand up from the staircase and watch her dad's car drive away towards the street where we both live. I drove myself here this morning and could've left at any time, but I wanted to wait for her to go first.

My body feels light as I walk to my car, and I can't get her eyes out of my head. I've never seen ones like them before; gray like flint around the edges and lighter in the middle, like a shallowing pool. It's hard to believe that she of all people is the first person that I've met in this little town, and the thought of seeing her every day this summer has my heart going wild. Earlier today, I had wanted to ask her out for coffee, or for dessert, or for something, but hadn't worked up the courage. Tomorrow, I promise myself, that's when I'll ask her. I really want to get to know her outside of the theater setting, which she's made it quite clear that she hates.

I can't help hoping that her dad keeps forcing her to come. I need an excuse to see her every day.

The whole drive home, I can't stop smiling. When I pull up in my driveway, my mom is out on the front porch throwing rugs over the railing, and she avoids looking over at me as I walk up the path to the front door.

"Hey, mom," I say. "Need help?"

"Could've used help all day," she says under her breath. "Your father's been at the bakery, I've been here all alone trying to set up this house that we just had to move to…"

"I can help now," I offer, bending at the waist to pick up a rug that's lying on the ground.

"Leave it," she says sternly. "You're not gonna know how to do it. Just let me. Go inside and start dinner." As I start to walk inside, she stops me by grabbing my arm. "Where were you all day, anyway?" she asks.

"I was um, at the auditorium," I say quietly.

"The what?" she asks, turning one ear closer to me. "Speak up."

"The auditorium," I say, louder this time.

"Auditorium?" she repeats, her face all screwed up. "What the hell were you doing there?"

"Theater camp," I say. "Dad saw something for it on Facebook and thought it looked fun. I had a pretty good time. I think I made a friend, too."

"Theater camp," she scoffed, mostly under her breath. "Nice to know my son is doing theater."

"So, um," I stammer. "I'm gonna go inside now and start dinner."

We make prolonged eye contact and then she widened her gaze at me. "So?" she asked, her tone biting. "What are you waiting for?"

I take the cue to leave and walk inside, navigating the maze of boxes that we have yet to unpack. Coming to this small town in Michigan, Otsego it's called, was Dad's idea. We used to live in the northern part of the state, but he bought out an older bakery here for ours to replace. He thinks it will do well and I hope he's right, but Mom, of course, has no faith in him or the bakery.

Both of my older brothers live out of the house; Leo just got engaged and Abe goes to the community college located in our old town, where he still lives.

So now, living here, we probably won't be seeing much of them. I'm not happy about that because the two of them always helped ease the tension that Mom brings with her everywhere she goes. Now, I have to bear the brunt of it myself, and I'm the one she hates the most.

When Dad gets home, Mom and I have already eaten dinner and I'm upstairs unpacking my room. I hear a soft knock on my door, and he pushes it open seconds later with a smile on his face.

"Hey, Peet," he says, leaning on the doorjamb. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," I say, standing up straight from the box I'd been digging in.

"You had the first day of that theater thing today, right?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah," I say.

"You think you might become a famous actor now?" he smiles and his tone is jovial.

I shake my head and laugh. "No, no, I don't think so. It was kind of fun, though."

"Meet any friends?"

I shrug. "Maybe," I say. "Not sure yet. It was just the first day, you know. Can't really tell."

"Right," he says. "How was your mother when you got home?"

I give him a straight-faced look. "Same as always."

"Mad?"

"Yeah," I say. "She was shaking out rugs when I pulled up. I offered to help her, but…" I shrug again. "Didn't want it. So I just made dinner. There're leftovers in the fridge if you want them."

"Ah, okay," he says. "She'll come around. You know how she feels about us having to move and stuff."

"Yeah," I say.

"Are you feeling alright about it?" he asks. "I know it's a big change for you, too."

"I'm okay," I tell him. In all honesty, I'm not too bothered by it, but changing schools for my senior year isn't ideal. I wasn't hugely popular at my old school, but I had people who I talked to. They probably won't miss me; I'm not too hung up on missing them, but starting over is never easy. "I like the change."

"My boy," Dad says, walking to me and giving me a firm hug. "I'm gonna go get those leftovers and then hit the hay. Don't stay up too late, okay?" I nod and smile, and he gives me a wave goodnight.

After a while, I give up my unpacking mission and turn in for the night, laying down on my mattress that's still bare. I fall asleep with my brain clogged of thoughts about Katniss.

In the morning, I embarrass myself by spending a few more minutes than usual in front of the mirror, making sure my hair is perfect. Yesterday, I hadn't really given much care to it, leaving it matted and sticking up in weird places. But today, I comb it down and make sure it looks presentable. I want Katniss to think I look nice and that I care about my appearance. I want to look put together even though I just moved in and my routine isn't established yet.

When I finally go downstairs, I grab a banana and then practically trot out to my car. I drive out of my neighborhood, which last night I found out is called Ely Acres, and drive down the main road to get to the auditorium.

When I pull up in the parking lot, I park near the entrance and am about halfway to the door when I see Katniss waving Prim goodbye and then start walking the other way. Prim skips inside and Katniss, with hunched shoulders, hurries away from the building.

I call her name, but she doesn't turn around. I see the wires coming from her head and realizing she has her earbuds in, I catch up to her and touch her shoulder gently.

She spins around with visible alarm on her face, and holds her heart once she realizes that it's only me.

"Jesus, you scared me," she says.

"Sorry," I say with a smile. "Where're you headed?"

She looks guilty, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her dark green zip-up. "Away from here," she says. She continues after seeing the expression of confusion on my face. "I can't stand this thing, but my dad still thinks I'm going. So… I'm just getting out of here until it's done." I nod slowly, my stomach sinking with disappointment. "So…see you around," she says.

If she had invited me to ditch with her, I would've done it in a second. But she didn't. I turn away from her as she disappears further and further into the distance, and then run my hands roughly through my hair that I had painstakingly done this morning. The excess gel that sticks to my fingers now just makes me feel stupid.

With my hands still mussing up my hair, I walk through the double doors of the auditorium without anyone by my side.

That trend continues throughout the rest of the summer. I would drive up to the auditorium and park my car, usually just in time to see Katniss hurrying away with her head ducked and Prim skipping inside. I don't make a move to try and talk to her again, although I badly want to. As the months go on, it's obvious that she had other things on her mind and more important things to do.

I made a few friends in my group at camp, but no one that really counts. They're just the type of friends to hang out with in the setting you meet them in, nothing more. I never found out anything about their personal lives, we just talk about stuff in the moment. It makes me feel a little less lame, but not much.

When the end of the summer comes along, I'm more grateful than anything. Upon first moving here, I was more nervous about the start of school than anything else, but now it feels like a relief.

On the night before the first day, my mom and dad are arguing and I can hear their every word through the vents in my floor. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and pinch my eyes shut to try and block it out. It's about money; it's always about money. Hearing the stress that every single cost of the new bakery puts on them makes me have anxiety myself, so I heave my body up from my bed and crank my window open.

My room looks out over the garage with the slanted roof, so it's pretty easy to scale down it without being noticed. I squeeze through the windowpanes and then slide down until I can make the short jump to the grass. When I do, I start down the sidewalk on foot to take a walk.

I make my way through the neighborhood aimlessly, with absolutely zero destination in mind. I don't really need one; I just needed to get out of that house and clear my mind.

I wonder what school will be like tomorrow. At my old one, there were a lot of students and it was easy to get lost in the crowd. This town is much smaller, so I don't think that will be the case. I'm hoping that fact will make it easier for me to make some friends.

It's nice walking along just listening to the outside noises without headphones in. But just as I'm thinking this, I hear the bass of a song with a heavy beat coming from somewhere outside. I squint my eyes to try and look for headlights, but don't see any cars on the road.

Suddenly, I realize that it's not coming from a car, it's coming from inside a house. I've looped back around to the road that I live on, but the other end of it, where Katniss and her family live, and the sound is coming from her house.

The front door is wide open with yellow light pouring onto the porch. There aren't any cars in the driveway, which tells me she's home alone and that's the only reason that the song that's playing is as loud as it is.

By the way

By the way

You do things to my body

I didn't know that I was starving'til I tasted you

I can make out her shape easily, even from the opposite side of the street. The kitchen is in the front of the house, and she's jumping around the island dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top, her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head. She's dancing like crazy to this song, sung by Hailee Steinfeld, and I cover my mouth to keep my smile at bay and try not to stare.

I shouldn't idle just watching her, even I can see how creepy that is. I let myself linger for one more drawn-out second, and then shove my hands deep into my pockets and walk quickly away from her private dance party of one.

I go back home and sneak in the back door, not in the mood to scale back up the roof and get back in my room through the window. My entrance goes unnoticed anyway; my dad is in the living room with the TV cranked and my mom must be in bed.

I walk up the stairs with a slight smile on my face, still picturing Katniss dancing like an idiot in her kitchen. I can't help wondering what made her so happy, and finding it pretty cute that she could be that excited and carefree on her own.

As I think about it harder, though, I start to feel embarrassed. I shouldn't be thinking about her this much, because in reality I don't know her at all. I just saw a tiny glimpse of her life and am already assuming different situations that could've been the reason for it. It's weird and desperate, if anything.

The smile on my face turns to a scowl as I try to think of anything else but Katniss. I'd never have a chance with her, anyway.