Primrose Mellark

Chapter One

 Look to the side for a pic of "Prim" played by Lucy Hale!

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 "Shoot straight!" a voice yelled loudly beside me. I winced and let go of the bowstring on accident. It flew to the side and onto the bark of a silver maple tree. I sighed loudly and let my bow drop to my side. My mother, Katniss, rolled her eyes and went to retrive the arrow.

   "When can I stop?" I complained.

   "When you get it right!" she replied. She walked over and handed me my arrow. "Just, concentrate on the target." She stepped back. But I didn't lift the bow.

   "I don't even like archery!" I told her. "You make me practice everyday for something I hate." She narrowed her eyes at me. I felt an argument coming on.

   "You did when you were little!" mom snapped at me. "Why can't you just learn to do it? So you know how to do a sport." I handed the bow to her.

   "I am doing a sport." I told her. "Soccer."

   "That sport doesn't include aim and accuracy."

   I widened my eyes. "That's my point! It's just fun! In archery, you have to worry about not killing someone with a tiny mistake. And it's a new sport that I love." Short after I was born, people brought back many sports that our ancestors used to play. Basketball, volleyball, even swimming was a sport. But I liked soccer the best.

   "Please, Prim." my mom pleaded me. "Just learn to do it!"

   "I did learn. In fact, I've had three years of practice!" I turned around, not wanting to argue with my mother about something rediculous. I wasn't doing archery and that was final. I loved to get dirty in the mud, not aim and focus for hours on a stupid arrow. Soccer was much more fun.

   I walked inside our little house. My father was at the stove, cooking lunch. "What are we having, papa?" I asked him. He turned around to meet my eyes. He smiled his big smile.

   "Chicken stew." he told me. "Does it smell good?"

   "Yeah, it does. But why stew for lunch?" I asked.

   He shrugged. "Always try something new. Like bow and arrow." I rolled my eyes fondly at him.

   "It's called archery. And I don't want to try that. It's not new, anyways. I've been doing it for years now." I hopped beside him to gaze into the stew. "Looks good. What herbs did you mix in? Parsley?"

   "Ah, it's a secret." He had no smile, but his eyes gave away his laughter. I smiled at him. "Really! It is!" He shrugged and wiped his hands on his pants. He stepped back and looked at the clock on the wall.

   "It's almost soccer practice." he told me. He looked, concerned, into my eyes. "Do you really love soccer? I mean, you're mother really wants you to learn archery. Like her." I sighed and looked away from his blue eyes.

   "That's the problem." I looked around, then lowered my voice."I don't want to be like her! She's really great and all, but I don't want to be a small copy of my mom. I want to be my own person, papa." His eyes softened.

   "Of course you're your own person, cupcake." he ruffled my hair. I smoothed it back out onto the side of my head.

   "I'm not you're little girl anymore, papa." I told him. "I'm fourteen. Old enough to make my own choices."

   "Like what?"

   "Like... what sport I want to do." I turned my head as my brother walked in. He had jeans on and a scruffy old tee shirt. He just finished combing his long, curly bond hair. He set the comb onto the counter and walked over to us.