4.

Katniss

I'm not good at things like this. I am an ace at hunting, and can hold my own with a knife. I can barter at the Hob like its no one's business, and come away with more than I need.

But this?

I'm not good at things like this, and its made especially hard considering the Hunger Games, and the fact that I'm allowing myself to get wrapped up with a Career Tribute.

His comment when he was rubbing my feet – I can't comprehend it. I don't understand it. How am I so appealing? I'm not beautiful, I am not a swan like Glimmer. I don't have charisma or charm. I'm a Seam girl through and through.

Did I really give some sort of sexual reaction from Cato? Is that even possible? I can't imagine that I would be the least bit appealing to anyone let alone a Tribute who could possibly have anyone he chose.

Cato wasn't exactly a monster to look at. He was huge, certainly, but that only made him more appealing He didn't have a single trace of fat, muscular all the way through. He towered over six feet in height, his blonde short cut hair looked as if it should be longer, but its obvious that the stylists had chopped on it for the games. He had a very strong jawline much like Gale, but that's where the differences end. His skin is a perfect color between peach and a natural light skin shade. His eyes are a dark blue, and deep set. He had an aquiline nose that looked almost noble as were his cheekbones.

I feel odd inside as I find myself thinking about things that have never once crossed my mind. I'm entering into territory that is entirely new to me.

However, I will not be so crass as to deny what it felt like when he took my feet, and began rubbing them. Not only did the tension leave my body, but it was amazing to just lay back and allow someone to touch me. A strange sensation had overtaken me in those moments, and the more I think about it the more I understand why Cato had to stop.

… I can't believe I'm thinking this. We are laying together, and I know its at least two o' clock in the morning. Cato would open his eyes and shut them repeatedly as if he really didn't want the time to go by while sleeping.

I can't blame him. As he was talking about his family, and the life in District 2 I was saddened, shocked, and appalled.

I thought District 12 had it bad, but hearing more stories from Cato and Rue about their homes, my District sounds like a paradise.

He's stopped talking about sad things now, and is telling me about his sisters. It gives me a sense of understanding Cato more and more. He's not a Monster by his own admission. He's a Monster because they made him one. Julia was the baby, and only five years old, and then there was Cleo who was ten, and finally Alana who was the eldest of the girls, fourteen, and tasked with taking care of her little sisters while Cato was away.

I'm surprised that he was willingly telling me all these things, and my instincts were clawing at me, and not in the way one would think.

I believe him even though I shouldn't.

I don't say much back, every now and then I make a comment, but I'm careful not to say anything that could damn me like my illegal hunting habits. I can tell by now that Cato knows I hunt illegally. He made a few roundabout comments that he knew without actually saying it. What has struck me is the fact that he has yet to tell anyone that I could use a bow.

I would have expected him to trade this information with the other Careers, but he hasn't. I don't know what to think, and not sure if I want to think anything at all.

Cato

There was a loud uproar when the very last Tribute's score flashed across the massive screen in our temporary living quarters.

Eleven.

She scored an eleven. No one had scored an eleven for over ten years in the games, and while Clove was cursing and throwing things around the room in a fit of rage, and Brutus and Enobaria were in denial that some little skinny girl from District 12 could beat my score something very different was going on with me.

A pulse in my veins spiked, and the heat began to gather in places on my body. There was something infinitely sexy about that number and its association with the girl I had come to not only fall for, but know so well in the last few days that one would think I'd known her all my life.

Maybe I did know her, and just hadn't had a chance to meet her. Not that it makes any sense to anyone else, but it does to me. Its my brain after all.

She scored a whole point higher than me. Not only did I want to know how she did it, but I want to see her face. I want to see what she did. Not because I know it would give me an advantage in the Arena. I already know she can shoot straight, and she must have shot straight enough to impress the Gamemakers.

As I was in my thoughts I didn't realize that everyone was staring at me, and I must have this crazy smirk on my face because I'm being looked at oddly by Enobaria. Clove looks as if she is about to throw another tantrum. At one time I probably would have thrown the same tantrum she was doing, but because this is Katniss who scored that eleven, I find that some of that girl's fire has made its way inside of me.

"What?" I finally ask shortly.

"You're taking this all rather well." Enobaria is looking at me expectantly.

"Why wouldn't I? It only means that my assumptions were right about her from the beginning." I love the look on Brutus and Clove's face. I couldn't quite read Enobaria, but then no one really could. "I always knew she wasn't one to be ignored."

"Oh please, some stupid girl from a poor pathetic district. What did she do? Light herself on fire?" Clove sneered in disgust. "She couldn't have earned that Eleven on her own. No fucking way."

I find myself enraged with Clove's badmouthing of Katniss. I want to lash out, but I do my best to keep it under control. No need to hint at my true feelings for fear of what Clove would try and do to Katniss in the Arena.

One false move, and the Mentors might change their ideas of me being the winning Tribute.

The interviews live on stage would be tonight, and so I wouldn't get a chance to see Katniss before hand. I doubt she'd tell me, but I'd like to have a hint as to what she did to garner such praise from the Gamemakers.

As I sit down on the comfortable soft bed, I can't help but think that in another life, the games are gone, and the districts are able to mingle I might have never met her. She would be one speckle of thousands.

I wouldn't know her and wouldn't have the chance to be attracted to her or her fiery personality.

In a life where I didn't have to eat and breath training for the Hunger Games, I imagine that I would want someone like her in my life.

One part of me wishes that this girl's sister had never been called, but then the other part, the one that is naturally selfish to the core tells me that the Hunger Games has brought more into my life in the last few days than ever before, even if it does end in bloodshed.

The hours tick away before my ridiculous looking Prep Team come for me. They don't have to do much, but some of the hair on my chin is growing back, and they're prepared to make sure that it doesn't.

I'm dressed in a silver/dove gray well tailored suit. I think about how it reminds me of Katniss' eyes as I'm turned by the shoulder. I don't fight it because the less I do the more I have to think about what kind of trouble I'm getting myself into. The shirt underneath is so starch white that its blinding, and a tie is held loosely around my neck. It isn't tied, its meant to look lazy and as if I didn't give a shit.

It fits me, I think as my stylist tries to put makeup on me. Try being the keyword because I refuse, and am equally annoyed when I'm doused in cologne.

What was he trying to do? Kill the other Tributes with my smell? It burned my nose and throat. I can taste it, and it makes me want to gag.

"That's enough," I order, and the Stylist, an over the hill man trying to look too young fearing for his life rushes from the room as if his life depended on it. It had because now I have blinding headache. I rub my temples as I leave the room. Clove is nowhere to be seen. A small miracle because I cannot stand even a moment of her unfounded hatred toward Katniss.

"Don't you look handsome," Enobaria purrs coming up to press a wrinkle out of my shirt. "You'll steal the crowd for sure. Go out there, and be fierce – don't give an inch. You are ready and willing – a machine oiled for killing."

Brutus is behind her, his arms crossed. He is also wearing a very nice suit, but it doesn't look like it belongs on him. He looks as if he should be in the Roman getup instead, with a sword in his hand and poised for a fight. A gladiator, I think as some of the few history lessons come back to me. He is a bald headed man, and as such his head looks as big as his body – and that's pretty big.

I however have a good three inches in height on him. We've never really had a conversation, and I think he's gotten attached to Clove because when she steps out in her evening gown, his eyes flicker with a light. Her stylist had somehow made her look slimmer than she appears, her hair was knotted on her head in a fancy sort of way, and her face is glowing from the piles of makeup on it.

She didn't look all that natural, but even Enobaria was cooing over her, and that was scary for a woman with fanged teeth.

I'm now wondering if Brutus is secretly training Clove to kill me and take the crown for herself. This has caused me to pause, I have never once thought like this before, but now – now I'm wondering if all this preparation wasn't a hoax toward me. I wonder if they are playing on my lack of intelligence, getting me to trust Clove infinitely with my life, knowing that she will protect me, and then at the last minute take me down like a dog.

I turn away before the others can guess what I'm thinking. I bet they don't, everyone thinks I'm an idiot. I'm beginning to understand clearly why Katniss doesn't think so.

Katniss thinks I'm smart.

All along it is me who never thought about my own intelligence. I've been trained and told what to do, bowing to authority, fighting and killing, learning the ways of a real warrior of how to accept the honor of killing.

Killing children, the Katniss angel on my shoulder.

I imagine even if she isn't here that she is sitting on my shoulder, pint-sized with her braided hair, and she's whispering prophetic truths for my brain to wrap around.

They're planning against me. Is that what they've been doing this whole time while I've been basking and relishing the idea of coming home? Clove insisting that she needs to know everything in order to protect me.

Did they know that my feelings and emotions weren't squashed? Did they know this, and decide to play it to their advantage? Did they think I would get attached to Clove the longer we were in the Arena together, fighting tooth and nail to stay alive. I would come to count on her in ways I could never imagine.

I'd come to care about her.

And then, when the moment strikes, the moment we will both know that I have a chance of winning, she'll slice my throat when she's supposed to be watching my back while I'm sleeping off whatever hell the other Tributes throw at me.

Yes, I would come to care about her. I might even come to love her over a period of time. I would not want to leave her. They knew I would because I have three baby sisters at home, and they were going to play on my weakness.

So, I never had a chance to begin with did I?

I'm infuriated now. My hands are beginning to shake, and the anger inside of me bubbling to the surface. I'm about to kill them; a blood red haze shades over me, and I begin to take a step forward, as if to take Clove in a choke hold, and keep her there until her last breath.

Her eyes then turn on me, and she beams. "Not bad, handsome!" Clove teases.

I stop short, realizing that I may be able to kill everyone in this room given the chance, but all three together with Brutus and Enobaria against me, I wouldn't stand a chance. I'm at my limit. I have to get out of here before I do something stupid.

'Don't let them know you know,' says the angel Katniss on my shoulder. 'Use it against them.'

And I do. I use it against them, and play it cool. "Not bad, Clove. Didn't know you could clean up so nicely," I tease with a cocky smirk.

She's blushing now, and Enobaria and Brutus share a look, and that's when I confirm the truth.

They are planning on sacrificing me, and making Clove the winner. I see it in her playful eyes, the demeanor she uses. She doesn't see me as a threat. She never saw me as one because she like the rest of them knew my weakness, and were going to exploit it.

That's why she hated Katniss so much. Not because of her fantastic display, but because Clove has finally realized that Katniss Everdeen could be her true adversary. The one to take her down in the middle of the night.

And me? I will help her because Katniss has done something so simple that no one in my world has ever done.

She actually sees me as a human being. A human worth something. I never gave it much thought until now as we head over to the elevator that would take us up to where the interviews would be held in front of the City Circle.

I guess the games have already started without me being any wiser. Well, shame on them, won't they be surprised? I'm not going to play their game.

We are soon seated under the arc, and there are twenty four seats, one for each Tribute. I'm sitting on the fourth chair as the female Tribute always goes first. I lock my fingers together, and lean forward, elbows on my knees as I think about all the information I gleamed.

Our mentors have disappeared now, and were likely taking their seats in the front row of the audience. I can hear the crowd, cheering and roaring before it even begins. There's only a small flicker of light where we're sitting.

Glimmer and Marvel are there. Marvel is captivated by the sight of Glimmer, and its obvious that sex was going to be her key strategy in procuring Sponsors. Maybe, she wasn't as stupid as I've thought.

She doesn't seem to be trying to catch my attention anymore so swept up in the excitement of appearing on stage for all of Panem to see her at her best.

More Tributes are rising from the elevator, filing out one by one. The Tributes from 3 to 11, and I spot the little girl that Katniss is so attached to wearing a shiny gown with wings attached to her back. I can now see what Katniss saw. Just a little girl, near the age of Cleo.

My brain was unwinding from all the conditioning I've had to take over the years. Normally, I would see her as a piece of meat, prey under my fingertips. Now, I see her as just a baby. She was someone's precious daughter.

Imagine if she was your daughter, the angel Katniss on my shoulder says to me. I grit my teeth. If I won, and had children in the future they would be taken as Career Tributes, conditioned the exact same way I was.

The girl from 11 looks at me then, and she beams, and its bright and blinding. She shouldn't be smiling at me, the Monster of District 2, but she does. I incline my head, but nothing more in case Clove is watching, but she isn't. She's wrapped up in her own self to pay any attention.

I'm about to turn away when a spark in the direction of the girl catches me off guard, and when I turn to focus on the cause of the spark, my brain fries on the spot.

Its like the world suddenly darkens, and all that is alight is the District 12 Girl on Fire, and Fire she is. She had been transformed into the Goddess of Fire. Her dress wrapped around her curves are shimmering with precious gems of red and orange with hints of blue and white. She had flame etches along her arms, and she shimmered causing every other girl in the room to dim.

Her hair was a pool of ringlets around her face, and it makes her glow. She looks like a candle, and its burning so very brightly. I'm at a complete loss for words, and I know I'm not the only one.

The attention on Glimmer's rounded curves are all but ignored by every male Tribute, even the quiet distant brute boy from 11 is staring at her.

It's obvious she doesn't realize the attention she has garnered as she nervously sits in her chair, and trying but failing to sit like a lady should. My lips twitch in amusement when her gaze finds me. Is that red on her cheeks or is it from the dress? I give her a wink, I can't help it. I'd love to go and talk to her, but I know better.

Clove makes a gurgling noise in the back of her throat from beside me. "I hate her." And she means it as she hisses it, and I can almost feel the spray of spit.

She is lighting a fire inside of me, and even when Caesar Flickerman prances onto the stage with the roaring crowd, and brilliant flooding light as if it were day and not night, I still can't take my eyes off Katniss Everdeen.

She's not the girl on fire, she's the girl that burns.

I play up the murderous monster on stage, and the crowd eats right into it. I can't let my mentors think that I have already figured out their plans because if I do, things might change, and I won't have the upper hand.

By the time District 11 is through with their interviews, I sit up straighter when Katniss is called, and I watch as she sashays toward the stage, her dress flickering and glowing. She looks slightly unsteady in heels, and then I remember when she complained about them.

She's taken by Caesar who is beaming, and compliments her dress. Katniss gives her thanks, but insists that it was Cinna's doing, and not hers.

Already, the crowd loves her. They see her as humble and graceful.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be a big change for you from District 12. What's impressed you the most since you've arrived?"

Katniss looks nervous as she places her hands in her lap as she answers. "The people of course, they are so inviting, and kind," she says to the audience causing a round of 'awe' to come from them all. "I thank you all for making me feel so welcome." She waves at them, and they call back out to her. Someone in the audience asks her to marry him, but its drowned out by laughter.

Caesar Flickerman is eating it up. He asks her what has changed since her coming to the Capitol. She shrugs. "More culture maybe? Not sure yet, lets wait and see if I survive before answering that honestly." She winks at the crowd, and they go crazy again.

Caesar beams. "Indeed, indeed young lady!" He's holding her hand, and patting it fondly. "Now, tell me about the opening parade, what were you thinking about when you came out on the chariot?"

Katniss gives a soft laugh. "I wondered if my lovely Stylist had lost his mind, and I was going to burn to death." The crowd is laughing even more now. "So, I didn't really have time to think too much more than that."

"Yes, that was an amazing display of pyrotechnics! Tell me, how do you feel about your competition in the games? You scored an amazing eleven, and all of us want to know more about it! It must have been quite a display. What can you tell us?"

"Not sure if I'm allowed to."

"No! You're not!" cries out a ponchy Gamemaker..

Katniss gives them a playful look. "Well, lets just say I think I'm a first to do what I did. So sorry my boys," she calls to them, "but attention is everything, isn't it?"

She has the gamemakers eating out of the palm of her hand, and I can't blame them. Several of them are already smitten with her, and even Seneca Crane, the Head Gamemaker is smiling at her fondly. The fact that she said, 'my' as if to say they are hers, and she could be theirs isn't lost on me.

The roar of people is in even more anticipation, desperately wanting to know what she did to impress them, and Caesar is probably enjoying himself more now than he ever has with the rest of us as Tributes, and it shows.

"Now, Katniss, I hate to bring up painful things, but I have to ask – about your sister. What happened?"

Katniss' smile drops, and a haunted expression crosses her features. She doesn't answer for a moment, and the crowd goes quiet. She seems to be contemplating something. "My sister Prim is only twelve, she's the sweetest thing in the world, and wouldn't hurt a fly. I raised her after my father died in a mining accident, and so she's practically my daughter. She's a born healer, not a fighter, Caesar. She's made me who I am today."

She seals it with that, a soft smile that captures the attention of all of Panem.

"And – did she see you before you went off to the train?"

"Yes, she did."

"And what did she say to you?"

"She told me to win."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told her I would."

"And indeed you shall try, Katniss Everdeen everyone, the Girl on Fire!" He roars, and then she stands, and he asks her to twirl, and when she does the whole bottom of her dress lights into flames, dazzling and enrapturing the audience.

Caesar is beside himself with excitement. He's her favorite, and there's a chance that she has just taken every last sponsor from all the other Tributes.

Looking around, I'm not the only one who is thinking this. Glimmer has a look of loathing, and Clove was spitting acidic insults under her breath. However, there are those who are intrigued by her words, and seem to see something else underneath it.

What it is, I can't begin to decipher.

All I know is I have to see her tonight. One last time before we go to the Arena. I give her a look until she notices my gaze. I raise my eyes to the ceiling as if trying to convey the roof. She gives me the smallest of nods, and my heart skips a beat.

Katniss

I wasn't meant to say all of that on stage with Caesar, but I was tired of everyone telling me I had no likability factor. It was pissing me off, and then Cato and Cinna seemed to like me, and both men are completely different from one another.

At first, I thought there was something wrong with me when Haymitch told me I was unlikable, and Effie groused about how the crowd was going to eat me alive. I decided to take it as a challenge, and stick it back to them.

Boy, were they surprised, Haymitch was looking at me as if he didn't know me.

I also saw this as an opportunity to get in the good graces of the Gamemakers. After my spectacle with the apple, I knew that I could easily be a target for their sadistic entertainment, and I knew I should nip that in the bud, play off like I was completely on their side.

It was easy after that, and when Caesar asked me about my sister, I thought about the only way I could keep the Capitol away from her was to make an impression on how much I care about her making the audience love her without ever knowing her.

I remember Cinna saying try to give a little piece of myself to the audience. I didn't want to, I really didn't. These people were rallying around my death, but I also realized as the Tributes went up one by one to appeal to the audience that each one was focusing on one particular trait, and that's all the Capitol saw.

A sexy woman.

Fierce warrior.

A sly fox.

Innocent child.

It was all one dimensional, and if I had even a shred of hope in defeating a Beauty Queen like Glimmer, and the rich district of 2, I would have to give them more than one dimension.

Having spent time with Cato these last few nights have taught me something that Haymitch could never teach. He taught me to grit my teeth and bare it, give them what they want because once in the Arena, I'll need them.

I hate knowing this, but its also an eye opener. I didn't appear as weak, but determined. A young lady who makes a promise, and doesn't break that promise. I also showed them the real me, the one who fights back instead of runs.

They feel I can win, and let them feel that because the more they put their odds on me, the more likely I can get out of the arena alive.

Without even knowing it, I owe Cato a debt because he taught me to stop running away, and face what is thrown at me. Its true that its the Capitol's fault for putting me in the situation by calling Primrose's name, but its also their ignorance thanks to the one man controlling it all.

Like Cato when he was faced with training as a Career or his family destroyed, he chose the option that best fit the score, and he didn't run.

I won't run either.

Haymitch was astounded by my easy display, and willing to speak with the crowds. The fact that I went so far to endear myself to the Gamemakers was not lost on him.

Effie however was cooing over how all the lessons I had finally paid off. I scoffed. "Your lessons did nothing but piss me off," I scowl.

"There's the girl I know so well," Haymitch roared as Cinna came over to congratulate me and give me a hug.

Peeta had used his humor and way with words to endear himself with the crowd, and when Caesar had asked what he thought of me, he had said that 'she's incredible, and she has no idea what she does to me or the other boys, none. You should see them back home, in District 12. She doesn't see it though.'

I don't know what that meant, but it got a whole host of reactions from the audience. I hope they don't think Peeta is in love with me. That's the last thing I need.

I'm already climbing out of my heels, and heading for my room. I want to be more myself before I meet Cato on the roof tonight.

A rush of something odd courses through me as I think about our nightly meetings. I feel as if I understand Cato, and even understand the way he acted on stage. He like me is also playing a game, we all are. A dangerous game that can take our lives.

I think sometimes that his game is more insidious than the one I'm forced to play. He has three little lives on the line that could be killed by his own district at any time.

Peeta looks put out by something, and what it is I don't know, and I don't have time to examine him. He's going to soon become an enemy, and I've already got several weaknesses going into the Arena tomorrow.

Rue being one of them, and Cato. I don't know if I can kill Cato. He could kill me, but I don't think I could do that unless I had to.