Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games and all its characters.

All I can see is pink.

"Aargh!" I yell as I jolt upright. Effie startles and looks slightly apologetic, cut off mid-word.

"I was just going to say, supper's ready!" She laughs.

"Oh…" I groan sleepily. I have to remember to lock the door tonight.

Effie leaves me to sit at the dining table, staring at my reflection in a remarkably polished silver bowl. While I'm waiting, presumably for Katniss to arrive, I lean over the table and roll a tiny, sphere shaped cake between my fingers. I admire the frosted lace on a flaky looking pastry. I've just started fingering a crescent roll dotted with slivers of almonds when Haymitch appears. He's a little less drunk now but he crosses half of the car before noticing me.

"Uh… I'm going to take a nap." He grumbles at a wall, and then disappears again.

Effie re-appears. I drop the roll guiltily.

Katniss emerges behind her. Her hair is up, in an intricate braid that her mother must have done for her yesterday. She's wearing a deep green shirt and brown pants that fit her comfortably, and a gold pin with a bird… A mockingjay, that must be her token. Her face has been washed clean by the Capitol's showers, and she looks almost peaceful as she treads lightly to sit beside me. She sits down delicately, and although she's strong and sturdy on her feet, I catch her swaying a bit in her chair. As if she was remembering being perched in a tree, and missed it.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks brightly.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap." I notify them.

You can tell Effie's relieved by this news. "Well, it's been an exhausting day." She allows.

Once we're all settled, the food comes. I'm thoroughly distracted by the thick carrot soup because it's so good and they let me just keep ladling it.

"Peeta!" Effie clucks at me, taking the ladle from my hand and plopping it back in the bowl. "There's so much more to come! You have to save room!"

More to come?

Effie's right, because I'm soon presented with salad, then lamb chops and mashed potatoes.

"At least, you two have decent manners." Effie says as we finish. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages." Effie frowns. "It completely upset my digestion."

The last two kids were from the Seam, and you could tell from the lines in their faces and the sharp angles of their bones that they were starving. So coming from Effie Trinket, someone who had always had enough to eat, it definitely rubs me the wrong way. I can see Katniss is thinking the same thing. When she starts eating with her fingers I have to work to hold back my grin.

The last two courses go by in a blur, except for the chocolate, which must be the best thing in the world. Near the end I'm starting to feel a little sick because this is probably the most I've eaten in my whole life, but I manage to push the nausea away.

We move to a plush compartment where we'll meet our competition for the first time. The replays of the reaping start in District 1, where a leering boy and an attractive blonde both volunteer. The boy who volunteers in District 2 is huge and monstrous, his female counterpart smaller but with a cruel glint to her eyes. These will be most of the Career pack, an early formed alliance of tributes from the richer districts, who train for the Games illegally before volunteering for the fame and fortune that comes with victory. I feel slight disgust for the bloodthirsty children of the Capitol's closest friends. In District 12, almost no one volunteers. Our hardship trains us to value life more, I suppose. What Katniss did today was radical to our people, but only natural for a girl with so much compassion.

I look back to the screen to watch a slender girl with red hair and sharp features take her place on the stage. District 6. District 7. Districts 8, 9, 10. Tribute after tribute after tribute. More children to add to the line, waiting for death in the arena. District 11 catches my attention with a huge, dark skinned boy and a tiny 12 year old. I turn to watch Katniss' face fall. She must be thinking about Prim back home. I want someone to volunteer for this little girl too, but no one does.

And then I watch as Prim is called and Katniss desperately pushes her away from the stage, and mounts the steps herself. They show the salute, and I wonder if they don't realize there was dissent or if they're trying to downplay it, but they say something about District 12's charming but backward customs and then cut to Haymitch falling off of the stage.

I have shock written all over my face as I reel from the first blow, only to be hit with another one as my name is called.

Effie is frowning and saying something about her wig. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

It's funny that she still expects anything from him after such a recurring pattern, so I laugh and say, "He was drunk. He's drunk every year."

"Every day." Katniss adds, and I smile at her.

"Yes." Effie snarls, clearly not amused. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Right on cue, Haymitch staggers in. He's obviously been doing more than just napping because his voice slurs heavily when he says, "I miss supper?" He promptly throws up all over the carpet, and manages to fall in it.

With a slight shriek Effie finishes. "So laugh away!"