"I'll have the strawberry-cheesecake ice-cream, please." Prim asks with her nose pressed against the glass ice-cream display case.

"Vanilla, please." I say to the Baskin Robbins employee with a name tag that reads Portia. She scoops up the ice-cream into the sugar cones and I pay for them. When we get back on the street, Prim grabs my hand and slowly licks her ice-cream. "Who knew that strawberry-cheesecake ice-cream existed?"

"I did." Prim licks her ice-cream thoughtfully. "It's my favorite now."

"Hm... I like vanilla." I say. It's just one flavor all the way through. It never changes. It's been my favoite since forever. Prim's favorite ice-cream changes everyday when we stop at Baskin Robbins after school.

"It's boring. Not very flavor-a-full," Prim tells me.

"Flavor-a-full?" I laugh. "That's not a word."

"Yeah it is! When we had Language Arts, we had to describe our favorite food. Mine was lasagna. The boy I sit next to, Rory, put cake and said it was flavor-a-full!" She nods.

"That doesn't mean it's right." I bite into my cone. It's almost my favorite part, but ice-cream is the best. Duh.

"I'm in fourth-grade, Katniss. I have a very large vocabulary." Prim says to me and we dump the remians of our cones in the garbage can in front of the door. I open the door and a blast of cool air hits us, soaking up the sweat on the back of my neck from the August heat. School started a week ago and I'm still not in the run of things.

"I'm in eigth-grade, Prim. Get over it." I say and pull her into the elevator and see we are not alone. Ms. Sae, the wrinkly old lady on the ninth floor who has over fifteen cats, She isn't married that I know of, is also on the lift.

Prim smiles at her, "Hello, Ms. Sae."

I press twelve. We live on the top floor.

"Hello, dear. The weather is awfully hot. Best to stay inside." Ms. Sae smiles.

The doors are about to close when someone says, "Hold the doors! Hold the doors!"

And someone I've never seen in this apartment building gets on. It's a family of five. The elevator is large but Prim and I press against the back wall.

I look over the family. Making a mental assesment so I can remember them just in case. Three boys, a mom and a dad. Two boys have blonde curly hair like the man and the oldest looking boy has more of a light brown colored hair like the lady.

The lady looks like a snob. Her nose is in the air and she is wearing six inch heels, she has scary bright blue eyes like the rest of the family. The man looks nice. He smiles at us and begins talking to Ms. Sae.

I catch a few things. "Just moved here", "Twelfth floor" and "Bakery down the street."

The boys look like they couldn't careless what their parents are saying. The oldest is on his I-Phone playing AngryBirds. The middle looking listening to music and the youngest is reading a book. None are talking, except their father and mother who are having endless chit-chat with Ms. Sae.

The strangest family I've ever seen.

Prim grabs the oldest boys shirt-sleeve.

"What the-" He pauses the game and looks at Prim.

"Hi," Prim smiles sweetly. "I'm Prim. I live in the twelfth floor and I'm nine and a half."

He looks at her weird and resumes his game.

The woman looks over at me from the conversation with Ms. Sae that she clearly isn't enjoying. But then she looks at Prim.

"Oh! What beautiful blonde curls!" She exclaims and pulls one of Prim's curls, lets go and watches it bounce. "I've always wanted a daughter. But instead I got three boys." She sighs. Definate weirdo.

I grab Prim's dress collar protectively.

"What's your name?" The lady takes no notice that I'm trying to take Prim away.

"I'm Primrose Everdeen. Prim for short." Prim takes a step back closer to me and farther from the lady.

This lady is obviously crazy and is unfazed by Prim's reserved actions. "What a pretty name."

The elevator dings and Ms. Sae gets off. Leaving Prim and I alone with these new strange people.

Prim tightly grabs onto my hand and then with the other hand grabs the end of my braid and pulls me down. "Kat, I'm scared of the lady. She is really weird." She whispers so softly into my ear that I barely hear it.

It seems like forever but is probably only twenty seconds before the elevator dings and all of us get off. I guess the new people live on our floor, too. We go right and they go left. I sigh. They live on the other side of the hall.

We live at the end of the hall in apartment 397. It's a three bedroom apartment and we've lived here for two years, since my Dad died.

I unlock the door because Mom is still at the office. She is a nurse at a children's doctor's office in East L.A. While we live in West L.A., right on the coast.

"Prim, you want some cereal. We got Frutie Pebbles." I say climbing onto the granite countertop in the kitchen.

"Yeah," Prim turns the T.V. on and begins watching Spongebob.

I pour myself and Prim a bowl of cereal and join her on the couch. It's my favorite episode. The one where Squidward tries to get as many people as possible to be in his marching-band so he can impress Squiliam. Prim and I laugh at Squidward when he says, "No, Patrick. Mayonaise is not an instrument."

Prim puts her head on my arm like pillow. I look throught our large window in the livng room and see the apartment building next us. You'd think it suck to look out your window and see your neighbors but the girl who lives in the apartment building next us is also my bestfriend, Madge.

I go and wash our bowls out in the sink. The window above the sink has an oceanview. Nobody's at the beach which is odd. It's Hamilton beach for crying out loud! It's usually pact when it's hot like this.

I go to my bedroom, which also happens to have a view of the apartment nextdoor. But it's Madge's bedroom. I guess that's how we became bestfriends, she was like a room-mate that I talked to by a note-pad I stored under my bed. Madge is standing in front of her mirror playing the violen. She is good at any instrument.

I wave and Madge looks up from her violen and sees me through the mirror.

I pull out my note-pad. Hey. I write and hold it up.

I've got a stupid violen recital :( Her handwriting, which is usually very neat, is scribbly and quick.

It can't be that bad?

It's awful! Everyone in my music class hates me and I can't quit because I don't want to let Mom or Dad down. She writes, her handwriting worse then before.

I'm thinking of what to write back when Madge's head jerks up and her mom walks in.

Madge's mom is a very depressed lady. Her blonde hair is in a bun and a few strands are fly-away and she is wearing a very fancy red dress and tall black-heels.

Did I mention Madge's family is very rich? Her mom used to be a teen actress. Something bad happened and she went all Brittany Spears sometime back in the 80's. My mom and Madge's mom were bestfriends back then and still are. Maybe that's why Madge and I are so close. Madge's dad produces movies and owns a few resturaunts. They are very upper-class. Madge isn't a snob. She is the exact opposite.

Mrs. Undersee smiles at me and waves. I smile back. Mrs. Undersee thinks Madge and I's note-thing is adorable. Ugh. Adults.

I go back into the livingroom where Prim is lying on the couch and still watching Spongebob.

"Kat, what time is it?" Prim asks.

"Mom will be home in thirty minutes." I assure her. It's Friday so Prim and I have Ballet at four. It's three twenty.

"How long does it take to get to the studio?" Prim sits up. Suddenly worried. Mom gets off work at three but today she said she had to work for thirty minutes later than usual because Octavia, the receptionist, has the flu or something like that. We'll have only ten minutes to get there. Plus Mom will want to drink a cup of coffee and change out of her work clothes.

"We'll walk." I rack my brain for time. I walked there before with Prim. It took maybe twenty minutes. "If you want to get there on time, change."

Prim springs off the couch and down the hall to her room. I change, too. Black leotard. White tights. I shove my wrap-around skirt and pointe-shoes into my duffelbag along with ten dollars, a water-bottle and shirt for after. I put on my some slip-ons because I can't wear my pointe-shoes on the street.

"Prim? Are you ready?" I ask as I quickly shove my hair into a bun. Prim comes out in a pale-pink leotard and a tutu. "Where's your duffel?"

"By the door." Prim points to the door.

"Water-bottle and shoes?" I ask.

"Yep." She says.

I write on the white-borad attached to our fridge, "Left for Ballet- be back at six!"

We race down the hall and into the elevator. Getting ready took ten minutes so it was three thrity now. If we were quick we'd get there at three fourty-five.

I didn't notice someone else was in the elevator until I heard someone give a slight cough. Not the kind you make when you want attention, just the kind to clear your thoat. The youngest brother from the elevator earlier today stands with his back pressed against the wall. He looks at us like we're crazy. I know I'm in a leotard and tights but that's what I usually go in. No problem.

I shrug. "I'm in ballet." I tell him and he nods.

"So am I." Prim smiles at him. She lets go of my hand and drops her duffel bag. She gets right up close to him. "I'm one of the best in my class. Oh and I'm Prim by the way."

"I'm Peeta." The boy, Peeta, looks at me like he thinks Prim is crazy. I try to hid that fact I'm laughing because his name is Peeta. I thought Katniss was bad. He side-steps away from Prim and smiles at her. "You have a very nice name."

"This is my sister. Her name is Kat. I can't tell you her full name because no one knows what it is. It's another word for potato." Prim says. I was kind of mad that she was telling this weirdo-lady's son I'm a potato.

"Prim. You're scaring him." I grab her wrist which Prim shakes me off.

Prim leans forward and sniffs him. "You smell like cinnamon rolls."

Peeta looks over at me again. "I guess that makes sense. My Dad owns a bakery."

Prim grabs his hand. "Promice you'll bring me a cookie? Or a cupcake? Either is good."

"Um," Peeta looks like he thinks Prim is a maniac. Ha, he isn't the first. I don't know why she is acting like this. She is very liked by most people. Maybe this is what her charm looks like up close. For adults it's cute but for kids it's flat out scary.

"Can you frost a primrose flower on top with frosting? Can you make it a chocolate cupcake? If I stand next to you long enough will I begin to smell like cinnamon rolls? How old are you? How old is your mom? Do you watch Spongebob? What's your favorite cereal?" Prim begins asking insanely scary stalker questions and Peeta looks obviously uncomfortable.

I grab the collar of her leotard. "Okay, Prim. That's enough sugar for you." I turn to Peeta. "Let's pretend that never happened."

Peeta shrugs, "I's fine. I don't mind little kids." The elevator dings and we all get off. He politely opens one of the large glass doors to the street. Again, we go seperate ways. Over his shoulder, Peeta calls out to Prim, "I'll bring you a cookie next time I see you."

Prim and I make to the ballet studio with five minutes to spare. I drop Prim off and go to my own class.

I'm worried. What if Prim has gone off the deep-end before she is even double-digits? And what if Peeta poisons her cookie?