The small blonde took in a deep breath, watching the elegantly designed buildings of the Capitol zip past her. She could feel the judgmental gazes of those around locked on her, but that was the last thing on her mind. All she cared about was the feeling of the wind whipping around her and flowing freely though her honey colored curls.

"Come on, Eff! You've gotta run faster than that if you're going to keep out," called out the scratchy voice of Andrew, one of her three older brothers.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Effie squeaked back, willing her tiny legs to move faster. She could do this. She would prove to her brothers that she could beat them.

It seemed that they went through the same routine every day. It'd start with them sneaking out of the house, her siblings teasing her for being the youngest, and her quipping that she could beat them to the edge of the city. Effie didn't mind though. Each and every time they raced, she got a little closer to beating them, but never quite made it. Today, however, something was different.

She was there, so close to Andrew that she could have reached out to grab the tail of his shirt if she'd wanted to. Just as she was all of two strides away from jumping in front of the older boy, she felt her foot catch on something; a rock to be exact. Before she could make any sense of the situation, the petite blonde found herself tumbling face first onto the hard cobblestone street. The pain in her knee grew from a nagging sting to a roaring and persistent pain. Effie reached her hand down to rest on the source of the pain, hissing the moment her fingers made contact. She pulled her hand up and eyed it suspiciously, groaning at the sight of the blood. This was something she couldn't handle on her own – she was going to need the help of her brothers, though she was almost certain that the oversized baboons wouldn't be much help at all.

"Get back here, you idiots! I need help!" she squeaked out, rolling her eyes as she hoisted herself into a sitting position. At the age of six, she was far more capable of caring for herself or others than her older siblings would be at any age. Still, they were her only chance of making it into the house without her mother noticing, no matter how small that chance may have been.

Finally, the three boys made it back to the small girl lying on the ground. Sending a glare their way, Effie extended one of her hands.

"Are you just going to stare or are you going to help me?"

As if the situation had finally hit them, they all reached out to help her. Effie took the much larger and calloused hand of Andrew, the only brother that she could really trust. Though she knew that the others loved her, Andrew was the one she knew really meant it. Sure, he teased her, but he always stood up for her when the others took it too far. He was the one that had taught her all the best excuses to get out of going to her mother's silly dinner parties. He was the one that had showed her all the best hiding places for hide and seek. But most importantly, he was the one that always told her a bedtime story each and every night.

Andrew reached down and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her tightly to his chest.

"You two go ahead. I'll take care of Itty Bitty here," he mumbled to the others, nodding his head to the right as he examined the gash on her knee. It wasn't out of the blue for Effie to get skinned knees. In fact, it was a common occurrence. However, this one seemed to be just a little deeper than the rest. Cautiously, he gently tapped it with his finger, immediately retracting the second he heard a tiny hiss. Shaking his head, Andrew let out a soft chuckle and quirked a brow at the child in his arms.

"Effie, Effie, Effie. What are we going to do with you, hmm? How do you suggest we sneak this one past mom, little one?"

"I don't know. You're the big brother here, you figure it out," she snapped back at him, unable to stop the small smile that had started to curve across her lips.

With a snicker, Andrew pressed a soft kiss to her warm forehead before beginning the trek back to their house. As they walked, he'd make a point to stop every so often and reassure her that she'd be fine and that if mom found out, he would be the one to take the blame. Effie would keep quiet, but nod in acknowledgement at everything he said. Unlike her brothers, she wasn't scared of their mother. Sure, she was over the top and exuberant, but so was everyone else in the Capitol. Besides, what was the worst she could do to them? Ban them from Caroline Devereaux's dinner party next week? Effie could only dream.

Before she knew it, the pair had reached the doorstep of their house. Effie squirmed around in Andrew's arms, signaling for him to set her down. Once she had been set safely on her seat, she pressed her ear to the mahogany door, listening for even the faintest ringing of their mother's high pitched laughter – nothing.

"I think we're safe," Effie whispered to her brother, tossing the door open with a smug grin.

Carelessly, Effie stepped into the house and bounded towards the kitchen, hiking up her skirt to examine the cut once more as she plopped down on the tile floor, unobservant of her surroundings.

"Effie Trinket! What on earth happened to your knee? How do you expect to make yourself look even remotely presentable with that…thing on your leg!" her mother's shrill voice screeched, causing Effie to wince.

Busted. Her mother had been reading the latest edition of Panem Weekly, something Effie should have anticipated.

"It's nothing, mommy…" Usually, she'd be able to come up with a lie as to why she'd skinned her knee, but not now; not when she was so unprepared.

"Don't lie to me. You were out with your brothers again, weren't you? I've told them a million times not to leave the house without consent." Eleanor rambled on before making her way to Effie and scooping her into a standing position. "Go get cleaned up and put on that pretty pink wig that I picked up for you earlier this week. Look at you! You're a mess." With a huff, the older woman ran a hand through Effie's now tangled blonde tresses, shaking her head with a tut.

"Yes, mother," Effie conceded, turning on her bruising heel to march up the stairs. She hated this, all of it. The silly wigs, the stupid costumes, and all the manners. It was too much to remember.

"I'm never going to grow up to be like her…never ever, ever," she promised herself, shaking her head at the ridiculous pink wig that was perched on top of her dresser.

Soooo! I'm thinking that maybe I'll introduce her father in the next chapter and maybe figure out a way to work Haymitch into all of this. Anyhooooo! Love it? Hate it? Let me know. All feedback is welcome!