It's wonderful, this warm feeling of hope. And it stays with me for such a long time, too. Tribute after tribute after tribute comes up to speak, and I'm still sitting there trying to hide my smile. Eventually I give up trying to hide it, and instead, try to change it into something devious-looking. Maybe the audience will think I'm smirking at the other tributes because I'm already seeing all of the flaws in their strategies. Onsona would like that… even though that's not actually what I'm doing.

I really should be paying closer attention to my opponents, but for some reason, I find it really hard to focus. They all seem the same to me: fake-pretty, with plastered-on smiles and artificial laughter and sparkly stuff they'd probably never wear if given the choice. And even underneath their masks and their makeup, every tribute interviewed falls into one stereotype or the other. Either they're an unshakable, confident Career from an intensely proud family, or an underfed, chanceless kid from a sad little district on the outskirts of Panem.

Why am I only now seeing exactly how much influence physical appearance has over these Games? What you look like and how you're perceived can make you… or break you. For Glimmer, the girl from District 1, her appearance is making her; she's had the audience under her thumb from the get-go, simply because her stylist has decided to ramp up her sex appeal. In addition, Cato's bulk and the expression of raw anger on his face add greatly to Panem's view of him as a depraved killer. To put it simply, it works for him.

It works against some of the others, though. The girl from District 8—I think her name is Kiara—tries to act perky and sweet while adding just the right amount of ditzy, but the dark bags under her eyelids aren't fooling anybody. Those things detract from even the most genuine and whitest smile Kiara musters up.

In the same way, Blake's tough-girl façade would be impressive… if it didn't completely fail to conceal how undeniably malnourished she is. The bones of her elbows and knees jut out, and her face isn't as filled-out as it could be. I realize that we are, all of us, just reinforcing the idea that the Careers surpass us in every way. I shake my head in irritation.

Even Aiden remains quiet, despite the flood of tactics that Caesar uses to try and pull him out of his shell. I know from personal experience that he's friendly and funny and smart, but up there onstage, he somehow manages to look sad and helpless. Pale and thin, he's dressed in muted colors, as though he means to fade into the wallpaper. I spend a minute or so staring at Aiden and wondering about the angle behind all of this. Is he trying to downplay himself so no one will target him? I can see the reasoning behind that plan, if that is in fact his plan, but it all seems sort of fruitless when you consider his cane. I want to grab him by the shoulders and scream at him, Look at yourself, and listen to reason! They're going to come after you first, and you can't stop them!

But, of course, I can't do that. So I just sit, and wait, and watch, and think back to the other interviews. Strong Careers. Weak non-Careers. There is no in-between.

At least, that's how it seems until Districts 11 and 12 have their turns.

The girl from District 11, the tiny one who pulled a 7, is one of the youngest, and definitely the smallest, of us all, and she's totally playing it up for pity. I mean, her stylist dressed her as a fairy. A fairy. Come on. Isn't that too transparent a strategy?

Apparently not. Like a crowd of lovesick puppies, the audience laps the girl's every word up. I can't stifle a groan.

Next up is the girl's district partner, a great hulking thing named Thresh. The exact opposite of the girl (I think her name was Rue), Thresh is tall, broad, muscular, and incredibly intimidating. Like Aiden, he doesn't say much to Caesar, but unlike Aiden, his silence comes across as threatening. He gives me the distinct impression that he could snap me over his knee if so inclined.

Next up is the girl from District 12. Her name is Katniss, and she spends most of the first part of the interview giggling about her outfit, of all things. I'm not sure what to think. If I'm not mistaken, this is the girl that got an eleven in training. It would be so much more prudent for her to portray herself as fierce and dangerous, even if she's not! Is this bimbo act part of some elaborate scheme, or is she as stupid as she seems?

I get my answer soon enough.

"Let's go back, then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," says Caesar quietly.

I flash back to the reapings and remember that Katniss is here in the place of a little blonde girl.

"And you volunteered," prompts Caesar. "Can you tell us about her?"

The smile is gone from Katniss's face. She glances at the audience. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."

Dead silence.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?"

Katniss swallows. "She asked me to try really hard to win."

"And what did you say?" asks Caesar gently.

Something different, darker than anything we've seen from Katniss before, crosses her face. When she speaks, her voice is low, determined. Fitting of the girl she should be. "I swore I would."

Interesting.

The buzzer goes off. Caesar wraps up the interview, and Katniss shakes his hand. She walks back to her seat amid enthusiastic applause. My gaze lingers on her even after she sits down, and the gears in my brain begin to turn.

Very interesting.

I turn my focus back the boy from District 12, Peeta Mellark, the baker's son. You know how I know that? I know that because he spends about a third of his interview comparing us all to bread. Really? Really? I roll my eyes.

His attempts at humor get slightly less dire when he starts talking about the Capitol showers, joking about how treacherously luxurious they are. Peeta's efforts at likability, however, don't make up for the fact that this is the last interview, and my eyes are starting to glaze over. I can't help tuning out for a minute and letting my exhaustion claim me. But I'm quickly jolted back to reality by a roar of laughter. I look up. Peeta and Caesar are invading each other's personal space, sniffing each other thoroughly.

Um… I have no idea how this happened, much less why the audience finds it so hilarious. But okay. Whatever works for you, Peeta Mellark. Whatever works for you.

Laughing, Caesar and Peeta lean back in their seats.

"So, Peeta, do you have a girlfriend back home?" asks Caesar with a smile.

Peeta hesitates, and then shakes his head. Anyone with eyes can see that he's lying, which makes me narrow mine. Unless he's as stupid as Katniss was pretending to be, this is intentional. I watch him closely.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl," says Caesar, picking up, as any rational person would, on his insincerity. I didn't think it was possible, but Caesar's grin widens. "Come on, what's her name?"

Peeta sighs, then admits, "Well, there is this one girl." He can't help but smile a little. "I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember." Then he sobers again. "But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

The crowd is eating this up. Judging by their understanding whimpers, they're all thinking, poor Peeta! I shake my head, wishing I could affect people like that.

"She have another fellow?" asks Caesar sympathetically.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her."

"So here's what you do," Caesar encourages him. "You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"

"I don't think it's going to work out," says Peeta miserably. "Winning… won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?" asks Caesar curiously.

"Because…" Peeta's face is bright red. "Because… she came here with me."

Holy crap.

Like me, the audience is wide-eyed, shocked into silence, trying to process what Peeta has said. The cameras quickly turn to focus on Katniss. Her face fills the screens that surround the City Circle. She glances around, and then stares at the floor, her mouth a tight line.

Hmm. I wonder what she's thinking.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," says Caesar sadly. The audience agrees with him.

"It's not good," says Peeta.

Understatement of the century.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," says Caesar. Yes, I know he's trying to empathize, but that came out sounding a lot creepier than he meant it to. I scoot my chair away from him a little bit as he asks, "She didn't know?"

Peeta shakes his head. "Not until now."

I think the entire audience is looking at Katniss at this point. Oh my goodness, look how badly she's blushing. I can't help but grin.

Caesar addresses the audience. "Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?"

They send up a huge cheer. Even I'm tempted to say yes.

"Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent," says Caesar. The crowd lets out a collective sigh of regret. Caesar gives them a shrug that clearly says oh, well before turning to Peeta. He shakes his hand. "Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The crowd goes insane.

As my gaze travels over them—every one of them, every single one of them, is applauding and screaming for the tributes of District 12— I realize what Peeta has done. My stomach drops, my heart skips a beat, and I want to hit myself in the forehead. Why am I only figuring this out now? This is just like when they held hands in the opening ceremony! By subtly charming the Capitol into focusing on them, District 12 is creating a reputation for themselves… thereby obliterating everyone else's chances of winning.

So evil. So brilliant.

That should have been my strategy!

By the time I've worked through the emotions of shock, anger, jealousy, and frustration, we're standing up for the anthem.

I look up to see that a shot of Katniss and Peeta, standing a few feet apart, fills every screen. A new wave of irritation roils through me, and along with it, a surge of determination.

I knew from the beginning that I should have kept an eye on them. I've been neglecting that goal.

Not anymore.

I stare at the screen furiously. You'd better watch out.

It's absolutely perfect. The physical appearance factor completely dovetails with my plan. I'm tiny and overlookable. Katniss and Peeta will be concentrating on overcoming the big, strong Careers, like Cato and Clove. So anything I do… they'll never see coming.

No one will know that I'm the real opponent here.

At least, not until it's too late.

OOC: See what I did there? ;) Thanks for the reviews, guys!