2

It takes one look at the large-screen display they've got set up facing all the tables, playing the pre-Game celebration from the Capitol, then another look at all the people pretending they're not sneaking sideway glances at me, to take away my appetite. Just like that.

"Dude, where're you going?" asks Thom, in the middle of opening his lunch bag.

"Toilet," I lie.

Outside in the open air I feel a little better, but this doesn't last. A group of girls are heading this way, no one I recognize but of course they all recognize me, and they don't even try to hide their whispering. I know very well what they're saying, though. I've been hearing that stuff all morning. Wasn't he her boyfriend? No, I don't think they were dating. Do you think he knew about Peeta Mellark? I walk in the opposite direction until I come to the dumpsters in the back of the school. Not a soul in sight. Ah, heaven. Even if it smells like rotten fruit.

Except God can't even give me this. "What are you looking at?" I say, not very nicely. I'm not trying to be nice.

From the corner of my eye I see her slow to a stop a couple steps away. Judging by her hair color and height, I have a good idea who it is. Wonderful. Like my day hasn't been perfect enough already. "I saw you going this way, so..." Her voice trails off and she shifts her weight awkwardly. "Are you alright?"

The fact that she's asking me this when I'm not in the mood to discuss my feelings right now, and certainly not with Princess Miss Undersee, irks the hell out of me. "None of your business."

Part of me is aware what a prick I'm being. Can almost hear Katniss's voice in my head. Gale, can't you be nice? It's not her fault. Katniss. My Catnip. Today's the first day of the Games. The day the bloodbath starts.

It's like I swallowed something bitter and burning down my throat. I catch Undersee's eyes, which are on me, and the words are out of my mouth again, all of that burning bitterness pouring out with it. "Shouldn't you be somewhere combing your hair? Polishing your shoes?"

She just looks at me. Her blue eyes are nothing like Catnip's, but they're like the other guy's. Shit. That nasty feeling on my throat is back again. I turn away from her and concentrate on grinding the cigarette butts on the ground into the dirt. Wait for her to storm out, angry, or maybe in tears.

She doesn't leave. Instead she speaks, but she doesn't sound pissed. Calm and mild, like she's commenting on the weather. "You hate me."

The way she said it, not as a question but like stating a fact, throws me off a bit. I glance at her, but her face gives away nothing. But what does she want me to say, really? Mrs. Everdeen and Prim may have accepted her with open arms but that doesn't mean I have to do the same. She may have been friends with Catnip but that doesn't make her my friend by default. It's not her fault, I hear Catnip's voice in my head again.

"Well," I just say, feeling the need to correct her somehow, even though what she said is true. "I don't like you."

A smile seems to be tugging at the corner of her lips. Although I don't see why what I said is funny. "Well," she repeats smoothly, "I don't like you either." She takes a step closer, head held high. "But it's better to tolerate each other, at the very least. Don't you think?"

She holds out her hand, back straight like a diplomat. I see she's not lacking the mayor's genes. "For Katniss's sake," she adds.

Katniss's sake. I look at that hand, offered up to me, slender fingers, pink, clean nails. This is the hand of someone who's never done any real work in their lives. I don't feel very much like touching that hand with my callused, scratch-covered one.

That's what I'm thinking until I see Undersee's expression. She's smiling, but it's not a bright, yay-let's-be-friends smile. It's more like a smirk, like ha-I-knew-you-couldn't-do-it. To prove her wrong, I take her hand and I shake it. Undersee's grip is surprisingly strong.