"Yes, Prim, I promise they're dairy cows," I sigh, gazing longingly toward the door while Prim fawns over an endless row of bovines. We've spent what feels like hours trudging through the animal exhibitions, and in spite of the smell, I'm still somehow hungry enough to eat the cow in front of me before it even touches a grill. There are still the goats and the chickens, I've been informed, and as I follow Prim from one barn to the next I slow my pace and stare at a fried dough cart nearby.

"Come on," Prim grabs me by the wrist and drags me ahead before I can sneak off to get something to eat. I follow her through the exhibition with as much patience as I can muster, forcing myself to keep my impatient sighing to a minimum.

By the time we come out the other side my hunger is even worse, and it's my turn to drag her somewhere. I head straight for the nearest food cart and order fried dough for the both of us, heaping as much powdered sugar and cinnamon onto it as I can. As we walk I gently try to steer our path toward the gate we came in, hoping to get out before she catches sight of another ride or, heaven forbid, another exhibition to drag me through. My plan is foiled as soon as she spots the midway games.

"Katniss, please," she begs, pointing down the row of games. "Just a couple?" She doesn't even wait for my response. Just starts walking. Maybe I've been spoiling her a little too much today.

"These games are all rigged," I protest, jogging a few steps to catch up with her. "I'm not wasting our money here."

"I just want to try," she whines, dragging me toward one of the booths. I roll my eyes and follow her, coughing up the three dollars for her to toss some blunted darts at underfilled balloons. Much to my surprise she manages to pop one, earning herself a pitifully small stuffed cat. She beams at me with pride, using the win as leverage to drag me to yet another. By the third game, when the last of the four softballs Prim was given bounces out of the basket to join the others on the ground, my patience has run out.

"I'm exhausted, Prim, and we still have to drive home. Come on."

"I won a cat, though," she says with a sheepish little smile, holding up the tiny, neon colored toy.

"Yeah, and it only cost us ten dollars," I scoff. Prim laughs and I can't help but smile, in spite of my annoyance. I give her a light shove between her shoulder blades, ushering her toward the gate.

"Wait," she stops short, throwing her arm out to stop me alongside her. "Look!" She points toward a booth to our left, open on all four sides. The man running it is spouting bullshit into a microphone hooked over his ear that, until now, had blended into the noise of the fair. The sign above the booth tells me all I need to know to turn it down; the prize is goldfish.

"Absolutely not," I shake my head, watching an exhausted looking parent steer their child away with a baggie clutched in his hand.

"Please? Just one try," she says, already stepping toward the booth. I hook my finger in the back of her shirt to stop her.

"No," I say.

"Now, now, don't be a spoilsport." I look up toward the booth. The man running it is standing on the counter closest to us, one hand braced on the canopy. He adjusts his mic and points at me. "Yes, you. Come on. Are you really gonna ruin that pretty little girl's entire day by denying her a chance to win a new lifelong friend?"

"Yes," I say with an exaggerated nod, setting my hand on Prim's back and attempting to steer her toward the gate again.

"It really will ruin my whole day," Prim says, rooted to the ground.

"Come on," he says, nodding toward the game. "First shot's on me, just for you. Step on up, beautiful. Unless, of course, you think it's too challenging." I raise an eyebrow, staring at him and looking down at Prim.

"Please," she smiles at me, hunching up her shoulders. I sigh, my shoulders sagging, and gesture toward the booth. Prim runs up to the edge and I follow behind, listening as he explains the game. Simple enough. Land a ping pong ball into one of the dozens of tiny, colorful fish bowls covering the table in the center of the booth and win one of the goldfish in the tanks along the side.

"Two dollars for ten shots or five for a bucket," he says, pointing to the baskets and buckets of ping pong balls lining the counter, turning away and stepping from one side of the counter to the other to take someone's money and set them up with the game.

"I thought her first shot was free," I say. He tosses me a ping pong ball without skipping a beat. The dark haired girl manning the booth alongside him just smirks and rolls her eyes before turning away to fill the baskets on the other side of the booth.

"I said yours is, sweetheart," he winks at me. I just roll my eyes. He's younger than I realized at first. He can't be more than a year or two older than me, at most. Somehow that makes the attitude even more infuriating. I sigh, narrowing my eyes at him before he leans over the table to snatch a few stray ping pong balls from the bowls and toss them into a bucket under the counter. I size up the table, shifting my stance. If he's going to just give this away, I'm going to win that fucking fish and call it a night. I make my toss, confident in the arc and speed, and he darts out of nowhere, thwacking the ball out of midair.

"Hey!" I snap. He just laughs, as do a few of the other players gathered around the booth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he claps his hand over his heart, cocking his head to one side. "That wasn't very fair of me, was it? How about another go?" He tosses another ball toward me and I catch it, tossing it back without even looking. It hooks the rim of one bowl, bounces halfway across the table, and comes to rest in another.

"Katniss! You did it!" Prim slaps my arm.

"Yes, I did," I say, turning toward the young man and returning that stupid little grin on his face. "And I'd like to take my fish and go, please."

"Are you really just going to take your fish and go? Without a thing for the little lady?" He gestures toward Prim. "That doesn't seem very fair to me."

"It's her fish, and I want to take it home, please," I sigh.

"Oh come on, now, one more round? Give the little guy a friend," he picks up one of the baskets and waves it in my direction, jostling the ping pong balls against each other inside it. "Unless, of course, you think you can't do it again."

"Fine," I snap, pulling the cash out of my back pocket and shoving two dollar bills into his hand. He laughs, handing me the basket. I miss the first two, earning a few chuckles and insults from him. It just annoys me further. I glare at him, shifting my feet and carefully taking aim. I only miss two more out of what he gave me, and for good measure I toss the empty basket toward him, landing it in the bucket at his feet.

"Okay, okay," he laughs. "Before you completely put me out of business here I think we need to up the stakes." He hops down off the counter and steps in front of me, flashing me a grin as he bends down. From beneath the counter he produces a small plastic tank, complete with gravel and a tacky little seashell, and a bright red betta darting from one side to the other, clearly upset at his home being relocated. "You pull off another show like that, sweetheart, and I'll round up all those little fishes you've earned, and you can take this guy home with you tonight, too."

"Fine," I snap, holding back a smirk. I just want to show this little shithead up now. A small audience has gathered around the booth, and even his partner has stopped to sit on the opposite counter and watch.

"But," he holds up a finger, snatching the basket of ping pong balls in front of me out of my reach. I raise my eyebrows, giving him a look that just makes him laugh again. "Hey, I said we were upping the stakes, didn't I?" He picks up one of the plastic buckets and plants it in front of me. "You have to match those odds with this bucket. There's forty in here, you made six of the last ten, I'd say if you make 25 that's a fair bet."

"And what if I miss? Five bucks for nothing?" I ask. He grins, leaning forward toward me and flicking the microphone up and away from his face.

"If you miss, you have to stay and watch the fireworks with me tonight," he says. His voice is low and warm; too gentle for the microphone to pick up. My heart jumps at the shift in his demeanor, the warmth in his smile, and the softness in his eyes. He snaps the microphone back down and that cocky smirk returns. "So how about it? Let's see your real ball handling skills, sweetheart." The comment earns more than a few chuckles and low hoots from around us. I reach into my back pocket, pulling out a five dollar bill and holding it out to him. He pulls it away slowly, smiling at me as it slides through my fingers, and I just roll my eyes.

"Katniss, try to win, okay?" Prim says, setting her hand on my shoulder and pulling me down to whisper to me. "I know he's really cute but I bet he'd take you on a date even if you win, and I really want that fish."

"I'm going to win," I give her a look.

"Come on, now. Don't be a tease," he says, gesturing toward the bucket. I shake my head at him and pick one up to take aim. "Gently, now."

"Are you kidding me?" I mutter, rolling my eyes. The few other people actually playing stop to watch as I begin throwing. They count along with the barker, groaning when I miss and cheering when I don't. The noise distracts me, and I don't do nearly as well as I'd hoped I would. I get down to my last ping pong ball and I've only managed 24 shots. I take a breath, steeling myself to make the shot. Prim is wringing her hands beside me, practically bouncing on her toes.

"Last chance, sweetheart," he says, holding his hands out to either side. "Should I let the good folks in on the other half of our little wager? I think I'm about to earn myself a date."

"Not if you keep this up," I say, earning a few laughs of my own. I make the toss—perfectly—and he lunges and swats it out of the air. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm sorry," he laughs, snatching a ball from the table and tossing it to me. He has to raise his voice, even with the microphone, to be heard over the laughter and cheers around the booth. "I just really want that date." He smiles at me and I finally let myself acknowledge how cute he is under the smartass carny act. I can feel myself starting to blush and I toss the ball, torn between wanting to make the toss so I can retreat with Prim for the night and wanting to miss so I can at least pretend I don't want to spend more time with this guy. It hooks the edge of one of the bowls and bounces across the table and to the ground.

"You did that on purpose," Prim says, narrowing her eyes at me.

"I did not!" I snap, though I'm not entirely sure if that's a lie.

"I think you've been a good enough sport," the endearing jackass says, redirecting our attention. "How about you keep that little guy all the same?" He points toward the fish. Prim's face lights up and she nearly hops away from me, falling all over herself to thank him as she reaches for the tank. "The rest of that bet still stands, though. You're up, Finn." He winks, pulling his headset off and tossing it to the young man who materialized beside his partner at some point during the game. He barely tears himself away from nuzzling against her long dark hair long enough to catch the microphone.

"I didn't actually think you were serious," I say as he vaults the counter to stand beside me.

"Very. I'm Peeta," he smiles.

"Katniss," I say. "And that's my sister, Prim."

"Nice to meet you both," he says. "We've got about twenty minutes before that fireworks show. How about I get us some drinks and then show you to the VIP seats?"

"Fine," I laugh. He winks at me and hooks one arm through mine and the other through Prim's, leading us both back into the fair.