Three in the Morning

Messed Up Kids

Prim

Wondering where Katniss is, I pull my phone out of my backpack to check the time, when I see the name Matthias with a heart next to it has popped up on the screen.

"Still coming right?" he's asked.

"Just waiting for my sister to pick me up :)" I assure him.

It's more than embarrassing that I'm nearly onto my senior year of high school and have yet to learn to drive. It's never been too much of a priority as we've been living in such a city where most places are within walking distance and taxis come within hailing distance. Unfortunately, not Matthias' house. He lives in a more suburban, wealthier area, and doesn't attend the same school as I do. We met a few months ago volunteering at a blood drive the hospital had set up.

I'm surprised Katniss agreed to take me to visit him, seeing as I told her we'd be working on a chemistry project together when it's well into summer vacation. But it's only half a lie; I'm not visiting for any scandalous purpose, rather Matthias has offered to help me compile a portfolio so I might have a chance competing for a position in this medical training program I want to be a part of more than almost anything. I don't know why I didn't just tell her the truth, but I do know Katniss just wants to make me happy. I get the feeling she's always worrying about me, though I have better reason to be the one worrying about her.

My text messages succumb to a smiling picture of my sister with a notification that I'm receiving a call from Katniss Everdeen.

I stand up, swing my backpack across my shoulder, and answer the call.

"Are you on your way here yet?" I ask.

"Right outside," she slurs with conviction.

I try to overlook that and pass it off as an effect of our garbled cell reception.

Before heading out the front door, I find my mother in the kitchen. She's absentmindedly dragging a spoon through a mug of hot tea while scanning the front page of yesterday's newspaper, covered in a lightweight cream colored sweater which baffles me how she tolerates it in this heat.

"Bye, mom," I say, resting a hand on her shoulder, "I won't be home too late, I promise."

"I'll be holding you to that," she replies teasingly without severing her gaze from the paper.

I look myself over in the mirror before leaving, taking a moment to smooth my hair and meticulously inspect my mascara and lip gloss.

Katniss has parked a little sloppily, but I'm too excited to look any deeper into that.

"You look so, so beautiful, Prim," she greets as I slide into the passenger's seat.

"Thanks, you look pretty nice yourself, what's the occasion?" I ask, having taken notice of the fact that she looks slightly more dressed up than usual.

She meets my eyes, and her own look a little bloodshot.

"I went out today," she says with a smirk, and her breath does smell detectably of alcohol, but she's driven a few blocks without any fault or indication of impairment, so I play along for now.

I hope she went out with Gale. I love having Gale around, he's always been such an asset for our family, and he's so good for Katniss. I'd love some assurance that he'll be hanging around us for a very long time.

Katniss focuses intensely on the road ahead of her, only breaking that to exclaim her love for a song that comes on from a CD she has playing.

"Isn't he awesome?" she asks, referring to Jake Bugg who's suddenly screaming over the car radio as she's turned up the volume alarmingly high.

"The messed up kids are on the corner with no money! They sell their time, they sell their drugs, they sell their bodies!" She half sings, half yells along.

"Katniss, please stop," I request nervously, turning down the volume knob.

"What's the matter?" she asks, all of the sudden looking crushed.

I guess her emotions are amplified by her "condition."

"Katniss you're drunk! Calm down!" I find my voice raising despite its trembling.

"Hey! Don't talk to me that way!" my sister snaps, taking her eyes off of the road to glare at me.

As she does so, the car veers to the right, and I find myself letting out a scream, reaching out to grab on to something to steady myself.

Someone honks their car horn, and I feel my heart beating panicked and rapidly.

"Stop the fucking car!" I shriek, and even in such a state of commotion I'm taken aback by my colorful choice of language; I can recall very few instances in my life that have reduced me to swearing.

Katniss holds up her arms as if in defeat. I catch a glimpse of the crazed expression that her hands off of the wheel has put on my face in the rearview mirror.

My eyes sting with salty tears as I close them to say a little prayer without thinking.

A pair of approaching headlights abruptly illuminate a wildly fearful face of Katniss' just before her voice accompanies my screaming.