Chapter Eight is here! Yippe-kay-yay! Actually the whole thing is done, I just need to bother posting it. :p

Disclaimer shall be done by…oh, Prim.

Prim: This person does not own me, my family, or anybody in my country or the plot my sister is in, other than anything you don't recognize from my series. Thanks!

Chapter 8: Coaching

I awake to the chirping of mockingjays again. My eyes flutter open, expecting to see Lilac sitting up next to me. Surely I'm home. All the Hunger Games were is a dream. But something feels wrong. I do not feel Aspen's sleeping body pressed into my side. Where is she? I bolt up.

"Aspen?" But there is no reply. Tears threaten to spill over when I remember I am still in the Capitol, going into the Hunger Games, and will never see my family again.

Flora is pounding on my door.

"Rue? Rue, wake up! Don't make me come in there! Come on, you have interview training today. Rue!"

"Calm down, I'm awake," I tell her. Before I can finish, a clicking noise lets me know she has opened my door.

A dress is in her hands, not mine for tonight, but an emerald green one that come down to my ankles and black high heels that add about four inches to my height of four-foot-nine.

Flora makes me walk and smile and "use manners for a change". After an hour of this, I have the worst blisters and swollen ankles from falling sideways in my shoes. So I collapse on my bed and kick my shoes across the room.

Flora is clasping both hands to her mouth, looking like she's seen someone killed. Which, I remember, she does 23 times a year or more.

"You can't take off your shoes!" She screeches.

"Why? They hurt!" I whine, sounding like Aspen when she's in danger of a fit.

"Just don't, Rue," Flora sighs. So we work on smiling and waving for a few minutes. I hope the next half of the day won't be so horrible.

Full of pinching shoes and long dresses, the rest of the four hours are as bad as I imagine the Games will be.

Now, my favorite part of the day: lunch.

We get a salad with a white dressing, thin strips of meat called bacon, and large bread rolls topped with melted cheese. I rush through the meal, then stuff myself with the biggest cookie I've ever seen.

"Do you have an angle chosen for interviews, Thresh?" Violet asks. So that's what I'll be doing the rest of the day.

Thresh nods. There is no chance that he'll elaborate, so the topic is dropped. Then Violet turns to me.

"Did you practice walking and smiling?"

"Yes, but now I'm ready to move on," I say coldly, glaring at Flora. She blushes and looks away.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with Violet and Birch. We work on my approach for interviews.

Very few ideas will work for me. I'm young, small, usually outgoing, and used to being oldest, not the absolute youngest. I'm the smallest by a lot.

I wish I could see Lilac's smiling face, hold Lavender's squirming body while my mother runs a brush through her dark brown curls. I hear Willow's girly voice in my head.

"Rue, tell me a story."

I know exactly which story I'd tell her now. It was when she'd figured out what it meant to be a twin.

"Why does Aspen look so much like me? No one else looks exactly like each other. I guess I'm only important enough to be a a separate person," she said sadly.

"No, Willow, it means you're more special. That there wasn't enough of you or Aspen, so you were doubled," I'd explained reassuringly. I hated to see her so miserable.

"Really? So why don't you have a double? I'd love to have another Rue."

Curiosity lit up her small face. I'd had to go on, saying that if everyone was a twin, there would be too many people, and not enough to eat.

From then on, Willow always felt special. Like she was unstoppable, and she was. My sisters learned to fight for what they wanted. That was part of the reason they had new boots every two years, because they worked odd jobs for neighbors and their teachers, and made sure to sell the old boots for a good price.

"Okay, Rue," Birch says, "you're too young for sexy, too innocent for fierce, too small to be hostile. Where do you want to go with this? Shy? Girly? Curious?"

"What about defensive? Like, I know I'm small, but I want to win. That I won't give up," I suggest. Even though I have already given up. There is no way I will win. I just need to live past the first day.

"Perfect," Birch tells me, smiling. Then Violet helps me into my fake interview dress. Not the real one; I can't see that until tomorrow. This dress is pale pink, with matching shoes.

Then we practice, Violet and Birch asking me questions like the ones Caesar Flickerman might ask tomorrow. Things about my family and my plans for the Games.

I refuse to answer honestly. When he asks if I have siblings, I say no.

"But you and I both know that's not true. You have five sisters who you love very much. Say that," Violet urges.

"No. They already have my future, they can't take my past too! I don't want them knowing about my sisters. Then, they can't be harmed," I retort angrily.

Birch has seen me act like this too many times now, so he sits back and waits for me to calm down. Violet is about to come over to me, but sees Birch's example and sits down too.

Eventually, I quit fuming and we are called to dinner. I'm so tired that I barely notice the food I'm shoveling into my mouth. I think it's lamb stew, but I'm not sure.

Thresh stands over me with a sword. He looks apologetic, but not enough to be wavered. My tears and pleas do not affect him. Gritting his teeth, Thresh lowers the sword. He looks resigned; has he given up on killing me? But here I am, laying helplessly at his mercy. How could he not kill me? It would mean he was one step closer to going home, seeing his family.

I have just finished pondering this when there is a final glint of silver, and the sword hits its target.

I sit up, covered in a cold sweat. My breathing shallow, I stand up and drink a glass of water. Just a dream, just a dream…I tell myself harshly.

Reviews would make my day wonderful-tastic!