Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games and all of its characters

A/N: Hello everyone, I am SO sorry I haven't updated in so long! *tear* These past weeks have been CRAZY. First, someone STOLE my copy of the Hunger Games! Yeah! And then when I got it back (from a kid at my school) I was swamped with HW. Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you knew I'm still here. I absolutely love writing this story and sharing it with you, so I am DEFNINTELY still going. Just had a minor setback So, to make up for my slow updating rate, I'm planning to write a bunch of chapters this weekend. So keep your eyes peeled! Thank you so much everyone! Enjoy!

Morning light shines behind my closed eyes, searing my vision. My head is pounding angrily.

I pull myself into the shower, carefully punching in a soft spray and lilac bubbles. I redden, feeling silly and childish in this stainless, cool Capitol where everyone is so lofty. But lilac has always reminded me of my mother's little glass perfume bottle, the one she used on my parents' wedding day. I feel tears forming, and I rub my streaming face angrily, bubbles catching in the corners of my eyes and making them sting. I hop out of the shower, giving up on any semblance of relaxation. It seems I'm just going to have to live with high-strung emotions.

The feeling I had during the opening ceremonies is completely gone now. I feel bitter, and homesick, and afraid, and sad, and angry, so angry that I'm here, that they've forced me to be here, that I have no choice but to go through with this. To protect Katniss. I wish for one stupid, vulnerable moment that it was Gale who had been called at the reaping. I wish he could be the one to protect Katniss, not me.

But i'ts too late for that. I'm here. So I have to do the best I can. And hope that I don't fail my father, or Katniss.

Someone has laid out black pants, a burgundy tunic, and comfortable looking shoes. I put them on dutifully and venture out into the hallway.

I find my way to the high ceilinged dining room, Haymitch entering behind me. Katniss is already at the table, turning a roll around in her hands, looking preoccupied and pretty nervous. With all of my self-righteous moaning I haven't even thought about what today is. Our first training day. When we get to meet our competition. This doesn't help my mood much.

I pick at some sliced fruit and a cinnamon bread until Haymitch has finished his generous portion of stew. He takes out a bottle, and after taking a long swig, leans forward to address us. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks.

"Say if you had some secret skill you might not want the other to know about." Haymitch answers, tapping his fingers on the fine wood of the table.

I shrug, looking at Katniss. "I don't have any secret skills. And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."

It almost makes me smile, the memory of my dad and Katniss' squirrels. He's crazy for them, and she's the best hunter pretty much anyone knows. It's funny, because I've always admired Katniss' skill with her bow and arrow and her bravery to go out into the woods. It added a bit of mystery and adventure to her when I was younger. When I grew up it made me admire her for a different reason- for her never-ending hope and perseverance. Her self-sufficiency. If I could hunt, I wouldn't have to live around my mother. But I never really noticed how, besides Gale, she's the only person who hunts in our District. It has never really hit me how valuable a skill it is. Even more valuable now, when she'll have to use it on people.

Katniss has been thinking, but the answer's natural to her. "You can coach us together." She says. I nod in agreement.

"Alright, so give me some idea of what you can do." Haymitch prompts.

"I can't do anything." My self-sufficiency is limited at baking. Which isn't much help in a death-trap arena, I'm guessing. "Unless you count baking bread." I tell him.

"Sorry, I don't." Haymitch smirks. I allow myself a small smile. For once, I agree with our mentor. "Katniss, I already know you're handy with a knife."

"Not really." She's underrating herself- based on the throw she made on the train. "But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow."

"And you're good?" Haymitch pries.

"I'm all right."

I'm surprised. She's been doing it for years. "She's excellent." I correct her. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells to the butcher. She can even bring down deer."

"What are you doing?" Katniss, asks, slightly suspicious looking.

"What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself."

"What about you?" She snaps at me, suddenly angry. "I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour. Tell him that. That's not nothing."

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't." I'm trying not to get upset in front of them, but my stupid emotions seem to want to resurface.

"He can wrestle." Katniss shoots in. "He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."

I remember that competition. I also remember the way Thom bullied me about his win after. But I'm surprised that she does.

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I say bitterly.

"There's always hand to hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" Katniss almost shouts.

"But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District 12 will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" I burst out.

"Oh, she meant you." Katniss waves it away with contempt.

"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one. She is."

I realize, painfully, that I haven't just admired Katniss for her skill. I've also always been jealous. Jealous of how she has a family that loves her, her little sister, and a life no matter what happens to anyone else. When I live with brothers and a mother who spite me every day, who tell me I'm not good enough and who only keep me around for the bakery's success. And they're right, my mother's right, because I'm useless outside of that frail and dubious shell. I have nothing outside of that bakery. I don't even have the girl I love.

Katniss looks up at me, and I want to hide from the pity and the emotion in her eyes. Because I've never, never, wanted to see pity from her. "But only because someone helped me." She says quietly, as if calling the memory of that night back to my mind will reassure me. So she does remember.

I shrug brusquely. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to help you."

It's true, the Capitol will love her, the strongest girl I've ever met, who's made so much of her life. Who can do so much more than I can. Who can make me fall in love with her just by singing. Who, I know, can win the Hunger Games.

"No more than you." Katniss says, still convinced I'm something equal to her.

I roll my eyes at Haymitch. "She has no idea. The effect she can have." I run my fingernail along the wood grain, staring at the natural pattern with unparalleled focus, not sure what Katniss is thinking and not sure if I want to know.

"Well, then." Haymitch interrupts our unsteady silence. "Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares." She mutters.

"That may be significant in terms of food. And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

I nod.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute."

Katniss obviously doesn't want this. "But-" I try to say, but Haymitch slams his fist on the table. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

Katniss shoves up from the table and stalks off to her room. I can hear her door slam even from the table.

Haymitch just chuckles. "Looks like you've got a lot on your hands, flour boy. How's your love story looking now?"

I snarl at him in my most menacing voice. "It's not just me who has to deal with her." The words slip off of my tongue, cruel and cold, fueled by anger and fear and a need to deflate some of Haymitch's irksome confidence. I sigh, feeling emptied and guilty. "Plus, you have to put up with me, too."

And then I leave, without waiting for his answer. Because I already know what it is. It's that I'm worse. I'm worse all around.

A/N: Please review!