Betrayal is the first word that comes to mind when I hear that Peeta wants to be coached separately, but I let it slide. I don't know what Peeta has in store, but I thinks it's time to operate as two separate individual people, instead as one whole. And then I think of all that has happened between me and Peeta, so I give him a break. My feelings are still raw about the sudden split, but I move on.

"Alright. What's the plan?" I ask.

"You will have four hours with Effie for presentation, and four hours with me for content." Haymitch says. "Katniss, you will start with Effie."

I'm not exactly sure what Effie has to teach me that will last four hours, but she has me working down to the wire. We head up to my room where Effie has me put on a full-length gown and high-heeled shoes. The shoes are the worst part; unsteadily, walking around on the balls of my feet. How Effie does this full-time is beyond me, but if she can do it I'm determined to do it myself. The dress poses another problem it gets tangled up in my shoes. I go to pull my dress up, and Effie swoops in like a hawk to smack my hands.

"Not above the ankle." Effie says.

When I finally conquer walking, I move onto sitting posture. According to Effie I tend to duck my head.

Who knew? I think.

From there we move on to eye contact, hand gestures, and smiling. Smiling is mostly about more smiling. Effie makes me practice a hundred banal phrases: beginning with a smile, a smile in the middle, and then smiling at the end. By lunch my muscles are twitching from over use.

"That's the best I can do." Effie says with a sigh. "Just remember you want the audience to like."

That last part struck a chord, but I will save it for later.

"Why do you think the audience won't like me?" I ask.

"Not if you're glaring at them all the time. Why don't you save that for the arena? Tonight, relax and imagine that you're among friends." Effie says.

"Except my friends wouldn't be betting how long I will last, and how many people I will kill." I say flatly.

"Well try, and pretend!" Effie snaps at me. Effie composes herself and beams at me. "See, like this. I smiling at you, even though you aggravate me."

"Yes, it feels very convincing." I say. "I going to go eat"

I kick off my heel, and march out to the dining room hiking skirt up to my thighs. Peeta and Haymitch seemed to be in a good mood, maybe content will be better. I couldn't have been more wrong. After lunch Haymitch pulls me into the sitting room, and directs me to sit on the couch. He sits on the chair across from me and stares at me for a time.

"What?" I ask.

"I'm trying to figure out how to present you." Haymitch says. "Do I present you as charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you're shining like a star. You volunteer for you sister. Cinna made you look unforgettable. And you have the top training score. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. The impression you make tomorrow will decide what you get in terms of sponsors." Haymitch says.

Having watch past interviews, there is truth to what he is saying. If you appeal to the crowd, whether by being humorous, brutality, or being eccentric you gain favor.

"What's Peeta plan, or am I not allowed to know?" I ask.

"Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor to him naturally." Haymitch says. "You on the hand, when you open your mouth you come across as sullen, and hostile."

"I do not!" I say.

"Please. I don't know where you pulled that cheery, waving girl on the chariot from, but I haven't seen her since." Haymitch says.

"Because you have given me so many reason to be cheery." I counter, with a smile.

"But you don't have to please me. I'm not going to be sponsoring you. So pretend I'm the audience." Haymitch says. "Delight me."

I had an idea to propose to Haymitch, but because he is attacking me it stays buried in the deep recesses of my brain.

"Fine." I snarl at Haymitch. Haymitch takes the roll of interviewer and I try to answer the question in winning fashion, but I can't. The cheap shot that Haymitch took at me is making me mad, and that I have to answer these question. All I can think about is how unjust this is, and the Hunger Games. Why am I hopping like some trained dog for people I hate? The longer the interview goes on, the more the fury in me continues to grow; until I spiting answers at Haymitch.

"All right, enough. We have to find another angle. I asked you fifty question and not only do I know that you're hostile, but I know nothing about you, your life, you family. They want to know about you Katniss." Haymitch says.

"I don't want them to! They've already taken my future! I don't want them to know about the things that mattered to me in the past." I say.

"Then lie! Make something up!" Haymitch says.

"I'm not good at lying." I say.

"Then you better learn quickly. Because you have charm as much as a dead slug." Haymitch said.

Ouch. That hurts. Even Haymitch knows he was too harsh because he comes back in a softer tone. "How about you try to act humble." Haymitch says.

"Humble." I say.

"That you can't believe that a girl from District Twelve could have done this well. That the whole thing is more than you could have dreamed of. Talk up Cinna clothes, how the city amazes you, and how nice the people are. Gush." Haymitch says.

The only nice people are the ones that aren't trying to antagonizing me the entire time. I think.

The next few hours are antagonizing. At once, we figure out I can't gush. We try to play cocky, but I'm not arrogant enough. I'm too "vulnerable" to be fierce. Hey what about the vulnerable country girl. I think, but Haymitch moves on to the next trait. By all means continue to ignore me. I think. I'm not witty. Funny. Sexy. Or mysterious.

At the end of the session I'm no one at all. Haymitch started drinking around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience know that you openly despise them." Haymitch says.

I eat dinner in my room that night, my sessions with Haymitch and Effie have rubbed raw. I order an outrageous number of delicacies, eating myself sick; taking my anger out on Haymitch, at the Hunger Games, and every living being in the Capitol by destroying the dishes. When the girl with the red hair comes to turn down my bed, her eyes widen at the mess.

"Just leave it alone!" I yell at her. "Just. Leave it."

I hate her too, for her knowing reproachful eyes that call me coward, puppet of the Capitol both now, and then. For her, justice must finally be happening. At least my death will pay do the life of the boys. Instead of fleeing the room, the girl shuts the door and heads into the bathroom. I can hear her turn on a faucet. When she comes back out she has a wet washcloth, and washes the blood off my hands. Why is she doing this? Why am I letting her? Her kindness, after the assaults brought on by Effie and Haymitch, is too much for me to bear; I start crying.

"I should have tried to save you." I whispered, though the tears.

But she shook her head. Were we right to remain hidden? Has she already forgiven me?

"No, it was wrong." I say, the tears have started to clear.

She pointed to her lips, and then pointed to my chest. She means to tell me that had I interfered that I would be an Avox, or dead. I spend the next hour helping the red-headed girl clean the room. After all the garbage has been put in the disposal and the food cleaned up, the girl turns down my sheets, and I crawl in between the sheets like a five year old and let her tuck me in. Then she goes. I want her to stay until I fall asleep. To be there when I wake up. I want her protection, even though she never had mine.

In the morning it's not the girl, but my prep team who are standing over. My session with Effie and Haymitch are done; today belongs to Cinna. My last hope. Maybe he will me look so wonderful, nobody will care what comes out of my mouth.

The team works until late afternoon, turning my skin to glowing satin, stenciling patterns on my arms, painting flame designs on twenty perfect nails. Then Venia goes to work on my hair; weaving strands of red pattern that start at my left ear, wraps around my head, and then falls into a braid down my right shoulder. The erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and redraw my features. Huge dark eyes, full red lips, and lashes that throw off bits of light whenever I blink. They cover my skin in in a powder that makes me shimmer in gold dust. I see Cinna enter with what looks like my dress, but I can't see because it's covered.

"Close your eyes." Cinna says.

I can feel the silken inside as they slip it over my naked body, and then the weight. It has to be at least forty pounds. I clutch Octavia's hand as I step into shoes, I'm glad that they're two inches short than the ones that Effie had me practice in. There's some adjusting, and fidgeting; then silence.

"Can I open my eyes now?" I ask.

"Yes." Cinna says. "Open them."

The creature standing in front of me in the full-length mirror came from another world. Where skin shimmers, eyes flash, and they their make there dresses of jewels. Because my dress, oh my dress, is cover entire in reflective precious gems; red and yellow and white with bits of blue that accent the tips of the flame design. The slightest movement gives the impression I'm being engulfed in flames. I'm not pretty. I'm not beautiful. I'm as radiant as the sun. For a while we just stare at me.

"Oh Cinna." I whisper. "Thank you"

"Twirl for me." Cinna says.

I do a quick spin, holding out my arms, and the prep team screams in admiration. Cinna dismisses the team, and he has me walk around in the shoes, which is infinitely easier than the shoes that Effie had me wear. The dress hangs in such a way that I don't have to pull up my skirt to walk; one less thing that I have to worry.

"So, are you ready for the interview tonight?" Cinna asks.

I can see in his eyes that he has been talking to Haymitch. Then he knows how dreadful I am.

"I'm awful. Haymitch called me a dead slug. No matter what we tried, I can't be something that one of those people want me to be." I say.

Cinna was silent for a time. "Why don't you just be yourself?" He says

"I can't do that. Haymitch says that I hostile, and sullen." I say.

"Well you are… only around Haymitch." Cinna says, with a smile. "I don't find you so. The prep team adores you. You even won over the Gamemakers. Even the Capitol citizens can't stop talking about you. They admire your spirit."

I really appreciate what Cinna says, but I feel that sensation in my gut again from last night. I won the crowd, and the Gamemakers over. I look better the Career tributes.

Why do I get the feeling that I have been building a coffin for myself since the reaping? I think.

I don't argue with what Cinna says. After yesterday I even remember what I wanted to do.

"I had an idea two nights ago, but my spat with Haymitch made me forget about it." I say.

"What is it?" Cinna asks.

"A vulnerable girl from a small country town coming to the Capitol." I say.

Cinna is taken back, and thinks about what I said.

"Honesty, I think that might work." Cinna said.

"Really?" I ask.

"I don't see why it can't hurt." Cinna says. "Just imagine that when you talking, it's to a friend back home when you're answering the questions. Who's your best friend?"

"Gale." I say instantly. "But it wouldn't make any sense because he knows all of these thing."

"What about me. Would you consider me a friend?" Cinna asks.

Of all the people that I have met since coming to the Capitol, Cinna is one of my favorites. He hasn't disappointed me yet.

"Yes, but-"

"I'll be sitting on the main platform with the rest of the stylist. Look at me and answer the question as honestly as possible." Cinna says.

"Even if it's horrible?" I ask, almost assured it could be.

"Even if it's horrible." Cinna says. "You'll try?"

I nod. It's a plan, or at least a straw to grasp at.

Too soon it's time to go. The interviews take place on a stage constructed in front of the Training Center. Once I leave my room, it'll be minutes before I'm in front of the crowds, the cameras, and all of Panem. As Cinna turns the doorknob I stop him.

"Cinna…" I'm overcome with stage fright.

"Just remember, they already love you. Just be yourself." Cinna says.

We exit my room, and then head down to the elevator to meet the rest of the District 12 crowd at the elevator. Portia and her gang have been busy. Peeta looks striking in a black suit with flame accents. Although we look great together, I'm glad we aren't dressed in the same identical outfit. I want to reach out and touch Peeta, and from the look in his eyes he wants to do the same thing, but with the powder we think twice. Haymitch and Effie are fancied up for the occasion; I avoid Haymitch, but I accept Effie's compliments. Effie can be tiresome and clueless sometimes, but she isn't destructive like Haymitch.

When the elevator opens all the other tributes are lined up to take to the stage. All twenty-four of us sit in an arc. I'll be last, or second to last as the girls proceed the boys from each district. How I wish I could be first and get this whole thing out of the way? Instead I will have listen to how witty, funny, humble, fierce, and charming everybody else will be before I go up. And by the time I go up the audience will start to get bored like the Gamemakers; and I won't be able to shoot an arrow to get their attention.

Right before we're paraded on stage Haymitch comes up behind Peeta and me and growls, "You're still a happy pair. So act like it."

Wow, really? I think.

"Thanks dad." I say after Haymitch gets out of ear shot.

Peeta laughs at my joke.

"You look handsome tonight." I say.

"You look amazing." Peeta says. "To bad I can't touch you."

"I want to kiss you too, but the feelings are mutual." I say.

Just as I finishing speaking, we step out onto the stage. As I take my first step out on the stage and my breathing becomes rapid and shallow; I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples. It's a relief when I get to my chair because between the heels and my shaking legs, I feel like I'm going to fall.

That the last thing I need: taking a dive head long off the stage. I think.

Although evening has fallen, the City Circle is brighter than a summer day. An elevated seating unit has been set up for prestigious guest, with the stylist commanding the front row. The cameras will turn to them when the crowd is reacting to their handiwork. A large balcony off to the right has been reserved for the Gamemakers. The Television crews had claim most of the other balconies. But the City Circle and avenues that feed into it are completely packed, standing room only. Every home, community hall around the country, every television set is turned on. There will be blackouts tonight.

Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the games for the past forty years, bounds out on to stage. It's frightening because his appearance has remain virtually unchanged that entire time. His face is pale white under a layer of makeup, his suite is the same; the only thing that ever changes is his hair. Caesar changes his hair color every year; last year it was red, it was creepy because it look like he was bleeding. They do surgery in the Capitol to make people look younger and thinner. In District 12 if you see an older person you congratulate and ask them what their secret is because some many die young. A plump person is envied because they aren't scrapping by the like the majority of us, but here it's different. Wrinkles aren't desirable, and a round belly isn't a sign of success. Caesar tells a few jokes to warm the audience up, and begins the interviews.

The girl from District 1, looking provocative in a gold see-through gown as she steps up to center stage for her interview. You can tell her mentor didn't have to try hard with her for this angle: long flowing blonde hair, emerald green eye, tall body and lush- sexy all the way.

Each interview last for three minute; then the buzz goes off and it's onto the next tribute. I'll give to Caesar he pulls out all the stops to make a tribute shine. He's friendly, works to set the nervous ones at ease, laughs at lame jokes, and make a weak reply a memorable by the way he responds. I sit like a lady like Effie instructed me to, as the districts slip by. 2, 3, 4. Everyone is playing an angle of some sort. The giant boy from District 2 the ruthless killing machine. The girl from District 5 sly and elusive. I see Cinna as soon as he takes his seat, but I still can't calm down. 8, 9, 10. The crippled boy from 10 is very quiet. My palms are sweating, and jewels aren't absorbent and the skid right off if I try to wipe my hands on them. 11.

Rue, who is dressed in a gossamer gown complete with wings, flutters her way over to Caesar. The audience falls silent at the sight of the magical wisp of a tribute. Caesar is very sweet with her; complimenting her on her training score of 7. When Caesar asks what her greatest strength in the arena will, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"I'm hard to catch." She says in a tremulous voice. "And if they can't catch me, I'm hard to kill. So don't count me out."

"I wouldn't count you out in a million years." Caesar says encouragingly.

The boy from District 11, Thresh, has dark skin like Rue but the resemblance stops there. He's one of the giants, standing at about six an half feet tall and built like an ox; he rejected an invitation from the Career tributes to join their crowd. He very solitary, he speaks to no one, kept to himself, and show very little interest in training. Even so, he score a 10 and it's not hard to imagine that he impressed the Gamemakers. He ignores Caesar's attempt at banter and answers the questions with yes or no, or just remains silent.

If only I was his size I could be hostile and sullen and everybody would be okay with it! I bet half the sponsors at least considered him. If I had any money I would bet on him, myself. And then they're calling Katniss Everdeen. Peeta gets my attention and gives me a quick wink, which I return in kind. As I walk toward the chair I feel a weight lifted off of me. Oh Haymitch, that cheery, and wavy girl from the chariot is about to make her second appearance; watch closely now. I think. I shake Caesar hand, and realize that my hands aren't sweaty anymore.

"So Katniss the Capitol must quite different compared to District 12. What's impressed you the most since you arrived here?" Caesar asked.

"What has impressed me the most-"

I stop in midsentence and stare at him questioningly; which throws Caesar and the crowd.

"I'm sorry was that your version of what's a nice country girl like you doing in a big city like this." I say.

I get the desired response from the crowd who laughs at Caesar and these strange turn. Caesar is dumbfounded at first, but recovers quickly.

"Maybe." Caesar says cautiously unsure of where I'm taking this.

"I bet you use that line on all the pretty girls, or was that your first time?" I ask, leaning in and fluttering my eyelashes at him.

The crowd lets out another uproar; laughing at my question. Caesar couldn't even stop the laugh that escaped his lips even if he wanted too.

"Actually that was the first time I used that line." Caesar admitted.

"Why thank you." I say, giving him a wink. "But back to the question. What has impressed me the most: I'd have to say the whole city. The tall builds, the bright colors, and the wonderful people that I have met; to be honest it's kind of overwhelming." I start off with animated features, but by the time I finish I have the air hesitation about me.

"Don't worry I'll protect you." Caesar says.

"Who says I need your help? Who says that I don't have a protector already?" I ask.

I swear I thought I could almost hear Peeta trying his hardest not to laugh, as the audience breaks out into another uproar.

"Care to share." Caesar asks.

"We country girls don't tell our secrets." I say with a sly smile.

Caesars look at the crowd and there is another booming laugh. I think I see Haymitch in the crowd staring daggers at me.

Who's hostile and sullen now? I think with a smile.

"Now Katniss." Caesar says confidently. "When you came out that the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of the costume?"

Cinna raises an eyebrow. Be honest.

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" I ask.

This gets a big laugh out of the audience.

"Yes, start then." Caesar say.

Cinna doesn't know how much I appreciate his work. "I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I have ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this either." I say, as I lift my skirt up and spread it out. "I mean, look at it."

As the audience is oohs and ahs, I see Cinna might a small circular motion, and I know what he means. Twirl for me.

I start spin in a circle and the reaction is immediate.

"Oh, do that again." Caesar says.

So I start spinning as I lift my hands spinning again; let the skirt fly out and the dress engulf me in flames. The audience breaks out into cheers. When I stop, I'm clutching Caesar arm.

"Don't stop!" Caesar says.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" I say with a giggle.

Caesar wraps a protectives arm around me. "Don't worry I have you. Can't having you following in you mentor's footsteps now can we?"

Everybody is hooting as the cameras find Haymitch who is now famous for his head dive at the reaping. Haymitch waves them away good-naturedly and then points back to me.

"It's okay." Caesar reassuring the crowd. "So, how about that training score. E-le-ven. Gives a hint, what happened in there."

I glance up at the Gamemakers and bite my lip. "Um… all I can is, I think it was a first."

The cameras are right on the Gamemakers, who are chuckling and nodding.

"You're killing us." Caesar says, as if in actual pain. "Detail! Details!'

I address the balcony. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

The Gamemaker that feel over in the punch bowl shouts. "She's not!"

"Sorry." I say, looking to the crowd and shrugging. "My lips are sealed."

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sisters name at the reaping." Caesar says, his mood much quieter. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

No not all of you! I could tell Cinna, I don't think I imagine sadness on his face.

"Her name is Prim. She's twelve years old. And I love her more than anything in the world." I say.

Though she is not the only one I love more than anything in this world, now. I think.

You could hear a pin drop in the City Circle.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asked.

Be honest. Be honest. I swallow hard. It was so much easy when I was talking about myself. I think. "She asked me to try really hard to win." The audience is frozen, hanging on my every word.

"And what did you say?" Caesar asked.

Instead of warmth, I feel an icy rigidity take over my body. I feel my muscle tense as they do before a kill. As I speak my voice drops and octave. "I swore that I would."

"I bet you did." Caesar said giving my hand a squeeze. The buzzer goes off. "Sorry we're out of time. Best of luck; Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District 12."

The applause continues long after I'm seated. I see Cinna who's giving me a subtle thumbs up. As Peeta is walking by he whispers. "Quite the act to follow."

"You'll think of something." I say, fluttering my eyelashes at Peeta.

I'm still in a daze for the first part of Peeta's interview. He has the crowd from the get-go, though; I can hear them laughing and shouting. He plays the baker's son angle, comparing the tributes to the bread from their districts. Then he has a funny anecdote about the perils of the Capitol showers.

"Tell me, do I smell like roses?" Peeta asks.

And then there's a whole run where they are sniffing each other that brings down the house. I'm coming back into focus when Caesar ask if Peeta has a girlfriend back home. Peeta hesitates, but then gives an unconvincing shake with his head.

I become really frightened. I know what Peeta is going to say, and when he says it I will be in big trouble. I'm not afraid that he is going to say I'm the girl he likes, or that he has feelings for me, I appreciate his honesty. I think; that's not the problem. I think back to everything that has occurred, including my performance tonight and I think about the picture it paints for the Career tributes. For the first time since coming to the Capitol I'm overcome with real fear. When Peeta admits his feelings for me to all of Panem, it will be the final nail in my coffin. I try to regain my composure as Caesar continues.

"Handsome lad like you. There has to a special girl back home. Come on, tell us her name." Caesar says.

Peeta sighs. "Well there is this one girl I had a crush ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the day of the reaping."

Thank you Peeta. I think. Peeta at least had the discretion to omit the fact that we have already developed a relationship over the past three days.

Sounds of sympathy from the crowd. Unrequited love, they can relate too.

"Does she have another fellow?" Caesar asks.

"Probably not, but a lot of boys do like her." Peeta says.

"Here's what you do. You got there out, you win this thing. And when you get home she'll have to out go with you." Caesar says. Then he turns to the crowd looking for a response which they don't hesitate to give.

"Thanks, but I don't think that's going to help me. Winning… won't help me in my case." Peeta says.

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks, mystified.

I close my eyes and let the dread wash over me, as Peeta blushes beet red and stammers. "Because… because… she came here with me."