At the Training Centre, Cato and I stand in a severe, defensive position alongside the tributes from District 1, whom I learn to be named Glimmer and Marvel. As Atala, the training instructor, drawls out the deeply uninteresting rules and advice, I notice Cato smirking at the girl from District 12. I do too and she looks more nervous.
After an hour or so of dull practise, Cato, I and the District 1 tributes sit together at lunch. We chat, laugh and mock the other tributes while they sit alone looking weak and uncomfortable. Glimmer bats her eyelids and flicks her hair flirtatiously at Cato and he accordingly responds. Marvel and I do not act so foolishly but instead form an alliance silently and look on jealously as our district partners flirt. I don't want to admit it, but I mind slightly. I quickly dismiss the thought; attraction is not a part of survival.
As we return to practise, I accidentally brush Cato's arm and look away. He barely flinches but smiles instead, casually raising an eyebrow.
I throw knives incredibly accurately and hit every single target directly in the centre. The girl from 12 – Katniss, is it? – looks on in both fear and awe. Marvel throws spears and Glimmer practises with a bow. She fails and it's all I can do not to laugh. Partly in jealousy, I guess. Cato thrashes around mightily with a dangerous-looking sword and successfully demolishes several training dummies.
On the way back in the lift to our compartments, Cato passes a ring to me. "Here," he says. "Take it. At least when one of us goes home I'll know I loved a pretty girl once." And then he exits and I am left alone.