As I walked home from my last stop of the day, delivering game to Katniss's sister, Prim, and her mother, I found it difficult not to break out into a sprint. I wasn't sure of the time and didn't want to miss a second of the Tribute's interviews. My reasons were different than those of the capitol; to them it was just some sort of sick entertainment. Watching people, getting to know them, and then cheering on the one to kill them, disappointed if their death was more humane.

For me watching the interviews meant seeing Katniss. Hearing the voice that I have longed for what seems like months but in reality had only been days. When I go to hunt I can't help turning at every sound hoping to see her holding her bow and wearing the smile that only exists in the forest. I know it's silly, she's in the capitol, counting down the days until she is thrown into the arena, and the sadistic games begin.

I know I shouldn't worry about missing the interviews. Those don't start until evening, and even if I do miss the beginning, being from district 12, Katniss won't go until the end. Still I can't help feeling anxious.

I finally reach my house and greet my family, my mother, two brothers and sister. I've got a fair bit of time before the interview starts so I keep myself busy; as usual I clean the animals. I also cook dinner, something my mother usually does. I've got to do something, just sitting and waiting would drive me mad. Finally it's time for the interviews to begin and we all gather in from of the tiny TV. We don't talk much, at least I don't. Perhaps everyone else was but I'm far too nervous to pay attention. As each tribute is interviewed I can only half listen. I'm too busy picturing how well Katniss would do up against each of them. She's wouldn't stand a chance in hand to hand combat against half of them, but if she gets her hands on a bow and arrows, she's as good as won. Perhaps it's just wishful thinking, but I can't bear to consider the alternative.

Finally it's time for Katniss and my stomach lurches uncomfortably as I wait for her. When she walks out she is absolutely stunning. Her dress is made out of jewels and as she makes even the slightest movement they shine, resembling flickering flames. Her stylist is an absolute genius, making her two outfits that make her beautiful and unforgettable. The outfits combined with her scour of 11 sponsors must be lining up, begging to sponsor Katniss Everdeen: the girl who was on fire.

It begins as usual, he asks her questions about what she thinks about the capitol and she answers kindly and unlike herself. They begin to discuss her costumes and I watch in disbelief as she gets up, twirls, and then giggles. Katniss Everdeen, Giggling! I can't stand to watch it. This isn't her. The capitols turned her into one of their pawns, making her say what they want to hear, or making sure that she doesn't make it out of the games alive. It takes all of my strength not to put my fist though the TV.

Finally he asks her about Prim and I get a glimpse of the real Katniss. My Katniss. Catnip. The one who loves her sister more than anything in the world. Just as I love my family. This calms me down a bit. I know that Katniss is still there, still fighting. I knew she would be, but I can't get the unsettling image of her giggling out of my head.

Katniss's interview is over and the only one left is the baker's son, Peeta. I pay attention to him out of respect to his father. I really do feel bad for him. Only one can live, and if I had money to bet, I would not be putting it on Peeta Mellark. There's not much substance to his interview, just joking around, but the Capitol is eating it up. He's playing up how likable he is. I'm about to turn it off until he says something that catches my attention.

"Well, there's one girl I've had a crush on ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping." That puzzled me. The Baker's son had always been friendly and sociable. I would not use the word shy to describe him.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar, the interviewer asks.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her,"

"So here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down, eh?" Says Caesar, looking pleased with his solution.

"I don't think that's going to work out. Winning…won't help in my case." I'm utterly perplexed by his response. Why wouldn't winning help? He'll be rich and able to support a family without every one being half-starved to death like most families in district 12. Plus there's the added perk of him being a celebrity.

"Why ever not?" asks Caesar, as confused as I am. Unless he means…but he can't…

"Because…," Peeta answers, blushing beet red. "Because she came here with me."

But he does mean her. Katniss. Suddenly I feel a rush of resentment towards the baker's son. How dare he say that about her. Publicity stunt or not he doesn't even know her. It took me months to get her to loosen up around me enough to even smile. There's no way in hell he got to know her well enough in the days since the reaping to have feelings for her, especially since she wouldn't let her guard down around him. Tomorrow she'll be thrown into an arena with him, fighting for her life. He'll be her enemy. There's no way she'd get friendly with him. His words echo in my head.

"I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember." I snort. Yes, Peeta, because you and Katniss have spent so much time together. You know each other so well. The camera shows Katniss and instead of the look of outrage I was expecting, she blushes and looks away. Blushes!

I can't take this. I stand up and run out the door. I need to get fresh air, to clear my head

"Gale, it's late." My mother calls after me. Ignore her. I won't be gone long. As I make my way to the square I think over Katniss's reaction. Katniss would never act like that. It must be a set up. Although…you can't exactly make yourself blush on queue. I push that thought out of my mind. Katniss can't have feelings for the baker's son. She was probably just embarrassed about his announcement. She was probably ready to rip his head off as soon as the witnesses are gone.

Why does this bother me so much, I wonder. There had never been anything romantic between us. She was my hunting partner. Well, she was more than that, she was my best friend. But I had never thought of her as more than that. True the day of the reaping I had asked her to run away with me, but not like that. Just run away from here together. Nothing romantic. Why does the thought of her with the Baker's son make me want to hit something? Why does the thought of her going into the games make me feel as though I'd been punched in the stomach, unable to breathe? As though losing her would be more that losing my hunting partner.

I couldn't decide. All I know is that the thought of punching the baker's son suddenly has a certain appeal to it, and that I will be so much happier when the games are over and Katniss comes home.