BOOK V - PENANCE

Penance - Voluntary Self-Punishment inflicted as an outward expression or repentance for having done wrong

CHAPTER 13

PART I

I sit in what the Capitol attendant referred to as the lounge car, staring out at the landscape that's whizzing by at over three hundred kilometers an hour. I've never even been on the other side of the boundary fence in Twelve before today.

The train is heading in the direction of the setting sun, with the late afternoon shadows lengthening with each passing minute. We've left the familiar behind...the mountains and forests that surround District Twelve have given way to this gently rolling landscape, broken every so often by isolated clumps of trees and other vegetation, as well as amazingly ordered groups of strange mounds rising seemingly at random. I had missed the transition from Twelve to...wherever this is. I had been in my room, showering, cleaning up, and changing clothes. I find myself hoping that I don't miss the transition on the return trip.

I hear the door hiss open, and then slide shut behind me. I don't turn around. It has to be Haymitch, Katniss, Effie, or Gamma...and the only one that I really want to see right now is Katniss, and I doubt that she would be seeking me out anyway.

"Homesick already?" A familiar, feminine voice says softly. I jerk upright and spin my seat around, my eyes going wide in shock, and, I admit, pleased surprise. I leap to my feet as the woman takes four long strides towards me and envelopes me in her arms.

It's Cressida.

I pull back from her, looking at perhaps the only friendly, neutral face on this entire train. "What are you doing here?" I ask breathlessly.

Cressida arches her eyebrow and favors me with a little half-grin. "I could ask you the same question, you know," she points out, "although I really can't say I'm shocked. Disappointed, maybe...but shocked...no."

"It...it's a long story," I stammer. I turn, grabbing her hand and leading her to the group of chairs that I just vacated. "Come on, sit down," I insist. I somewhat clumsily plop down in my chair as Cressida gracefully settles into one directly opposite mine.

I look her in the eye, still amazed at her presence. "Okay, Cressida," I say insistently, "once more...what are you doing here?"

Cressida sighs and shifts around in the chair, crossing her slender legs with a single, elegant motion. "It's the Quell," she explains simply. "The network wanted coverage of Katniss's first time out as a Mentor, especially since her partner is the Second Quarter Quell Victor." She pauses for a moment, staring out the window, before continuing. "I...we developed a special...bond, during her Victory Tour. She trusts me, so here I am. And, you, young man," she says with a playful, yet sad, smile, "you were the figurative icing on the cake...volunteering the way you did."

"So you'll be filming Katniss?" I ask, blushing a bit from her smile...and wondering why it was affecting me the way it was.

"Katniss, Haymitch, you, the other Tribute...Gamma?" I nod. "Gamma, Effie...you name it, we'll be there...the whole crew...Messalla, Castor, Pollux, and me...trying to be invisible and at the same time capture every aspect of Katniss's initial Games as a Mentor."

"As long as you turn the cameras off whenever I tell you to," Haymitch says. I jump a little...I didn't even hear him come in. He's standing not two meters from us, clutching a glass of something dark and smoky. He looks me up and down, grins, and gives me a thumbs up. "Nice clothes, kid," he says. "You clean up well."

"Haymitch, I promise that we won't interfere with any training, or record any of your strategy sessions," Cressida says sincerely.

Haymitch nods as he lowers himself into the seat opposite both Cressida and I. He raises his glass toward the window. "Pretty dull, huh, kid?"

I shrug. "It's a lot different than home. Any idea where we are?"

"The Badlands," Haymitch replies with a grin. "We're actually between districts right now. District Six is off that-a-way -" he waves his hand toward the window that I've been staring out of "- and District Eleven is behind me." He jerks his thumb over his right shoulder. "With luck, it'll still be light when we cross the Great River. Now that's a sight!"

I point out the window as we pass yet another collection of those strange, orderly mounds. "Do you have any idea what those are, Haymitch?"

Haymitch's mood suddenly turns somber. "Yeah, I do, kid. Yeah, I do. Those are buildings...or, rather, what's left of buildings...even whole towns and villages. Those are all that's left of the people that lived out here before the Catastrophes."

I feel a sudden chill as I realize that I'm looking at collections of graveyards...places that were once thriving communities, destroyed when the Catastrophes overtook this part of the land. Idly I wonder what life was like back in the days before the Catastrophes...when Panem was known as North America, and the Hunger Games wouldn't exist for hundreds of years.

The door hisses open before I can respond to Haymitch's last comment. Effie bustles in, looking frazzled. Haymitch had told me on more than one occassion that Effie gets more and more stressed the closer the Games get. Looking at her I can well believe it.

"Has anyone...oh, hello Cressida," Effie says distractedly. Cressida inclines her head and replies, "Effie."

"Pardon the interruption," Effie huffs, "but as anyone seen Katniss or Gamma?"

"They're both in their rooms...I think," I reply.

"Well!" Effie says. "Dinner will be served shortly, and then we need to watch the Reaping recaps, and you said something about a strategy meeting, Haymitch?"

"Yeah," Haymitch replies lazily, then looks at Cressida. "Sorry, Duchess. You're not invited to the meeting. No offense."

"None taken," Cressida says smoothly.

"I need to get both those girls moving!" Effie says. "I'll see you all at dinner!"

"I wouldn't count on Gamma for dinner," Haymitch says with a grin after Effie leaves. "She's in her room all right...spent a good fifteen minutes puking her guts out after stuffing her pie hole with, well, pie. I doubt if she'll be wanting much dinner."

I sit, my jaw clenched in anger. Even though I didn't even know Gamma, the poor girl couldn't help wanting to eat herself sick. She's never had enough to eat her entire life. The only thing that keeps me from saying anything to Haymitch was my knowledge that he was a product of the Seam as well, and had more than his share of "Hollow Days" while growing up.

"I'm going to see about Katniss," Cressida says suddenly, standing up in a single, fluid motion. "I'll see you boys at dinner." Haymitch and I watch Cressida walk out of the car, with Haymitch offering up a long, low whistle once Cressida is safely out of earshot.

"I have to admit," Haymitch says softly, "I usually don't go in for Capitol women...too much flash, too little substance, if you ask me...but that one is one in a million."

In spite of my feelings for Katniss, I had to agree.

Haymitch snaps out of his reverie and turns toward me, all business again. "Okay, kid," he says, "first things first. We can talk freely here...and in the Penthouse at the Training Center. No bugs."

I frown. "Wait a minute," I reply. "I distinctly remember you telling me -"

Haymitch nods impatiently. "Yeah, I did. But trust me on this." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small rectangular object, about the same size and shape as a deck of playing cards. "This little jewel will confirm what I've just told you." He presses a button on the side and a red light begins blinking rhythmically before changing color to a steady green. Haymitch smiles in satisfaction as he turns the device off and pockets it.

"See?" He pats his pocket. "All clear."

"Wait a minute," I say. "What exactly was that thing?"

"It's a bug detector," Haymitch explains. "It has a fifteen meter range. If someone were snooping on us electronically I would've gotten a solid red light. Green is the clear signal."

"How did you get a hold of it?" I ask.

"I got it from...never mind where I got it," Haymitch says impatiently. "Suffice to say a friend gave it to me."

I still wasn't satisfied. "Why aren't the Tribute Trains and the...what did you call it? The 'Penthouse?' Why aren't they bugged?"

"Oh, they used to be," Haymitch explained. "But the Capitol stopped years ago, when they found out that some crooked comm techs were selling strategy conversations to certain Mentors. Needless to say, this didn't sit well with the majority of Mentors, so they pressured the Capitol into stopping the practice." Haymitch pauses for a moment. "Capitolites are funny. They know that being bugged is a part of life, and they ignore it...until they feel that it threatens the 'sanctity' of 'their' Games. That's what made the Capitol back down...they didn't want bad publicity and the loss in sponsor revenue if Sponsors pulled out because they thought the Games were rigged. So feel free to talk here...except if a Capitol attendant is present."

I nod in understanding, but I still had one question. "What's the 'Penthouse?'"

Haymitch laughs. "The Twelfth Floor of the Training Center. That's where we will be staying. Each district gets a floor corresponding to their district number. Effie started calling it the Penthouse when she became our Escort. That's what top floor hotel rooms and apartments are called...the 'Penthouse.'"

At that moment Effie returns, practically dragging Gamma behind her. I see that Gamma has cleaned up and changed also...wearing sandals, loose fitting silk pants, and an expensive looking sleeveless top. She's still wearing the same scowl that she wore earlier, though.

"Oh, good," Haymitch says laconically when he sees Effie and Gamma. "So glad you decided to join us, Darlin'. Please, have a seat." Gamma glares at Haymitch and reluctantly sits down. Haymitch waves Effie into a seat as well. "You, too, Princess. You're in on this too."

Once Effie was seated, Haymitch begins. "I'll keep this short so we can go get dinner and watch the Reaping recaps. It seems that the vast majority of the Capitol...read, the Sponsors...hates the 'no sponsor' rule for this Quell, and a lot of pressure has been put on both President Snow and the Gamemakers to discard it...which, of course, they can't do. But, the Assistant Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, has found a loophole that will allow all those rich Capitol Sponsors to spend their money...and help out their chosen Tributes in return."

"So how can sponsors help if you can't send us gifts?" I ask.

"Feasts," Haymitch says. "Usually there's only a single Feast during any particular Games. With this one, however, there will be a Feast every day...and the only items that will be available during the Feasts will be whatever Sponsor gifts have been purchased since the last Feast, so there may be food, water, weapons, or survival supplies, all neatly packaged into backpacks...or other packaging, if the item or items are too large...labeled with the district number that they're intended for."

"But that means that we still won't be able to get immediate help if we need it," I say.

Haymitch shakes his head. "No. No silver parachutes in these Games. Which means that I'm going to have to try to anticipate what you'll need, so things will be a little...generic."

Gamma speaks for the first time. "You said 'I'm going to have to anticipate,' not 'We'll have to anticipate.' Ain't Katniss helping you out with this?"

Haymitch actually looks flustered. "Well, uhh...yeah, that's what I meant, Gemmy. I meant we."

Gamma glares at Haymitch. "It's Gamma, you fucking rummy!"

At this Effie looks shocked. "Gamma! Language!"

Gamma shoots Effie a contemptuous look. "Oh, fuck off, you ridiculous peacock." Gamma then jumps to her feet. "Are we done here? I'm hungry."

Haymitch looks at Effie and I with a bemused expression. "Yeah, I think we're done for now, Gamma," he pronounces her name carefully, and then stands up. "I think we can all use a little dinner."

Gamma doesn't wait for us, but instead turns and flounces out of the lounge car toward the dining car. As Haymitch brushes by me he mutters, "Thousands of Slips in the Bowl and Effie had to draw hers."

I was reluctantly forced to agree.

PART II

Katniss joins us for dinner only after Effie sends an attendant to her room to fetch her. Even so, she sits down ten minutes after the rest of us.

"Katniss," Effie says with a smile, "I ordered your favorite for this dinner. Lamb stew with dried plums."

Katniss glances at Effie, her face impassive at first, then a ghost of a smile flits over her features. "Thank...thank you, Effie."

I'm seated next to Gamma. Haymitch is directly across from me, and Katniss is seated across from Gamma. Effie is seated at what I think of as the head of the table, nearest Katniss and Gamma. Cressida and her crew are seated discreetly at another, slightly smaller table.

Conversation during dinner is muted and, thankfully, neutral, with very little mention of the Games. There were a few tense moments, though, when Effie tried to teach a few basic table manners to Gamma, who seemed to be trying to set some sort of record for the most food crammed onto a single plate. So much for the theory that Haymitch had about her not having much of an appetite.

"Gamma, dear," Effie is saying patiently, "if a cut of meat is too large to eat in a single bite, we don't pick it up in our hands, bite off a piece, and then set the rest on the table. We use our knife and fork to cut a manageable piece off, like so." Effie picks up her own knife and fork to demonstrate how to effectively use both utensils. "See?" she says, carefully laying down her utensils after cutting a small piece of lamb into two bite-sized chunks. "Now you try."

Gamma glowers at her plate, her face flushed red with embarrassment, or anger, or both. She glares at Effie, then, very deliberately, picks up the piece of lamb that she laid on the tablecloth, pops it in her mouth, chews noisily, and wipes her fingers on the tablecloth.

Effie looks aghast. I glance at Haymitch, who's trying without much success to stifle a smile, then at Katniss, who's covering her mouth with her hand to hide her grin. I sit and wonder what they are finding so funny.

"Remind you of someone?" Katniss asks Haymitch.

"Oh, yes," Haymitch replies, his grin widening.

Effie gives them both a look of pure exasperation. "Honestly, you two -"

"Think it's funny?" Gamma snaps, eyes blazing at Katniss, before she turns her fury back to Effie. "And I ain't got no reason to use a knife and fork because we ain't got any knife and fork in the Home! Ain't got no fancy plates like these, either! We eat off metal trays and they give us spoons 'cause we ain't never got nothin' what needs cuttin'!" Gamma jumps to her feet, by this time practically shouting at Effie. "So if you don't like how I eat, then go fuck yourself, Peacock!"

We all watch in stunned silence as Gamma storms out of the dining car. Effie looks like she's ready to cry, Katniss looks shocked, and Haymitch looks like he desperately wants a stiff drink. Finally, Katniss reluctantly rises from her chair.

"I'll go talk to her," she says quietly. "After all, she's my Tribute."

"No," I say as I rise to my feet. "I'll go." Katniss, Haymitch and Effie all look at me in amazement. "After all," I point out, "I'm the only one that she hasn't yelled at yet."

I quickly follow Gamma before anyone has a chance to object.

Gamma wasn't hard to find. She's sitting in the lounge car, staring morosely out the window as the train speeds down the tracks...every second bringing us nearer to the Capitol. She doesn't look up at the sound of the door opening, but instead takes another bite from the cinnamon roll that she's working on.

Without a word, I take a seat opposite her and lean back in my chair, looking at her intently. At first, she steadfastly ignores me, concentrating instead on the roll in her hand. She eats it noisily, smacking her lips and making a show of licking the frosting off her fingers. Still, I say nothing.

Gamma finally can't stand it anymore. She swivels her head toward me, her eyes narrow slits as she glares at me. "What the fuck are you staring at, Townie?"

"Not at you," I reply with a smirk. "At your shoulders."

I see her frown, obviously confused by my remark. "Huh?"

"I can't decide," I continue, "on exactly where that big-ass chip is."

"Make sense, Townie," she snarls. "What fuckin' chip are you talkin' about?"

"You know," I say with a smile. "The chip on your shoulder that you've had ever since Reaping."

Gamma slowly turns away from me. "Fuck you," she says tiredly.

"That's your answer for everything, isn't it?" I ask. She doesn't reply. "I know that growing up in the Home is rough -"

"Spare me, Townie!" Gamma snaps. "You don't know what tough is! Do you know what it's like to go to bed hungry every night? To sleep in a room with nineteen other girls? To have to fight for every little scrap of food that comes your way? Huh? Did you lose both your parents when you were ten? Did you watch your little brother die from the flu? And who gives a fuck if I know how to use a knife and fork? That stupid, strutting Peacock woman?"

I shift seats so that I'm sitting across from her. "Give me your hand," I say softly.

"What?" Gamma looks at me incredulously. "No!"

"Yes," I insist. "Look, I want to show you something. Come on."

Gamma watches me intently, the distrust evident in her eyes. "Then show me," she says. "You don't need my hand for that."

"You can't really see what I want to show you," I explain. "Look, it's not bad...or dirty." I reach out. "Come on. One time."

Reluctantly, Gamma extends her hand. I take her thin, callused, work roughened fingers in mine and guide her hand to the left side of my head, pressing her fingers to the scalp just behind the hairline.

"Feel that?" I ask.

Her fingers probe tentatively. "This lump?"

"Yeah," I reply. "And the scar."

"I feel it," she says, pulling her hand back. "I have worse. What's your point?"

"Did your mother give you any of yours?" I ask flatly.

Gamma frowns, then her eyes widen slightly as understanding sinks in. "Your mother did that?"

I nod. "She swung a rolling pin at me. She didn't catch me full on."

"Why?" Gamma asks.

I take a deep breath before replying. "A little more than six years ago, I burned two loaves of bread. That's why." I pause for a moment. "Did your mother ever hit you?"

Gamma shakes her head. "Not like that. She maybe swatted my ass if I sassed her, but that's it."

"Did your mother...love you?" I ask.

Gamma gives me another incredulous look and shakes her head. "What kind of stupid fucking question is that? Of course she did."

"I don't know what that's like," I say softly. "I do know what it's like to get beaten for everything...and even sometimes when I did nothing wrong."

I stand up and strip my shirt off over my head and face away from Gamma. I hear her soft gasp when she sees my scarred back.

"So, you have scars," I say. "Can you top these?" She says nothing. I pull my shirt back on, then turn around and sit down again.

"You've had a hard life," I say. "And you've suffered. But don't think that your brand of pain and suffering is the only kind there is."

Gamma sighs. "Okay, you made your point. Is that why you came in here?"

"No," I reply. "Gamma, I know you don't want to be here. And, let's be honest...you and I are probably gonna be dead in a few weeks." Her lips press in a thin line as I say this. "And it's hard to be nice to people that don't have to go through what we have to go through. But you have to ask yourself something. You have to ask yourself if you want to spend your last weeks pissed off and hating everyone or not. Because getting along with people that are doing everything that they can to help you...and yeah, that includes Effie giving you a lesson in table manners...is gonna make what little life you have left easier for you."

"Easy for you to say," she replies. "You asked for this shit." She looks at me intently. "And, since we're bein' so fuckin' honest, I wanna know why."

I return her gaze with my own steady stare. "Maybe...maybe I have something to prove."

Gamma snorts in derision. "By dyin'?"

I feel a chill pass through me as her words register. Dying. Yes, there was a very real possibility that I was going to die. I was going to fight as hard as I could to not let that happen, even though the odds were definitely not in my favor...even with the months of training that I've put in. But I did have something to prove...to my family, to District Twelve, to Katniss...especially to Katniss, even though she hasn't said a word to me directly since the Reaping...and, perhaps most importantly...to myself.

"If I die," I reply slowly, "I'll be as me. Me! Peeta Mellark, of District Twelve. Not Peeta Mellark, baker's son, or Peeta Mellark, accused cheat. Not even Peeta Mellark, volunteered Tribute. I want to die as myself."

Gamma looked like she was going to respond, but the sound of the door hissing open and the appearance of a Capitol attendant gives her pause.

"Excuse me," the man says respectfully, "but Mr. Abernathy has requested that you both join him and the others in the dining car for the Reaping Recaps."

"Okay," I say. "Thank you." I stand and turn to Gamma. "Let's go check out the competition."

PART III

"Forget the others," Haymitch is saying as he gestures to the holo projection behind him. "These are the six you have to watch out for."

We've just finished watching the Reaping Recaps. Haymitch has frozen the images of six Tributes and has placed them all on the projection. The faces that stare back at me are all older Tributes, each of them at least seventeen, and they all possess the same look of cocky self-confidence. They are from Districts One, Two and Four.

I'm looking at this years' Career Pack.

"What about the boy from Nine?" Effie asks. "He looks pretty strong."

"Who? 'Bud?'" Haymitch replies. "Point taken, Princess. Okay, you two. Don't turn your back on 'Bud.' But remember, he's not the threat that these others are.

"Why do you call him 'Bud?'" I find myself asking.

"That's what he is, kid," Haymitch replies with a smirk. "Big, Ugly, and Dumb...'Bud' for short."

I think back to the Reapings. The boy from Nine, on first impressions, seemed to fit Haymitch's nickname perfectly. He was big...the largest Tribute in these Games by far, whose plain-featured face was further ravaged by a runaway case of acne. And, the few words that he had spoken were delivered in a slow, deliberate drawl. But for some reason, I seem to think that there's more to 'Bud' than meets the eye.

"Okay, let's get back to these six," Haymitch says impatiently. "And, as Effie is fond of saying, 'Ladies first.'" Haymitch steps out of the way and taps a small, hand-held control box in his hand. The picture of the girl from District One swells until it fills the entire projection.

"Aurora Chamberlain," Haymitch says. Unlike many from District One, her hair is jet black, which stands in contrast to her brilliant blue eyes. She's tall, athletic, and beautiful. "Eighteen years old. Volunteer, of course, as all six are. This may interest you, Sweetheart." Haymitch pauses as he turns toward Katniss. "Cashmere was talking this one up last year when she saw how good you were with your bow. Apparently, you have an equal when it comes to archery skills."

Katniss gives a noncommittal grunt and crosses her arms over her chest in response. Her face remains an impassive mask.

I examine Aurora more closely. If she's as good with a bow as Katniss is, she could very well be the main threat.

Haymitch taps the control box again, and that of the District Two girl replaces Aurora's picture. "Lupa Stonehenge," Haymitch is saying. "Also eighteen. District Two." The face that sneers down at us is of a ruddy-faced girl, heavily freckled, with short, spiky, auburn colored hair and green eyes. She seems to be of medium height but appears well muscled, if her broad shoulders are any indication. It may just be my imagination, but I swear I can detect cruelness in her eyes and in the set of her mouth.

"I don't have any information about her," Haymitch says, "other than what we see here. I'll try to find out more about her once we reach the Capitol, but don't hold your breath. The District Two Mentors are notoriously closed-mouthed about their Tributes before the Games start."

Another tap of the control box, and Lupa's face fades away to be replaced by a dark-haired, almond-eyed, exotic looking girl. "Thalassa Akioshi," Haymitch says. "Seventeen years old. District Four." I notice that she seems to be very small...even smaller than Katniss had been the year before.

"And now for the boys," Haymitch says. "Starting with Thalassa's District Partner, Ishmael Brennan." Thalassa's face fades away, to be replaced by a tan boy with long brown hair and an open, friendly face. "Eighteen years old."

"The last two don't look so bad," Gamma remarks.

"No?" Haymitch says. "Well, keep this in mind. They're both from District Four, so you can bet that they can swim like fish. They both stepped forward and volunteered without hesitation. And never underestimate what a small girl can do." Haymitch looks pointedly at Katniss as he says this.

"Lexus Alexander," Haymitch continues. "District Two." A tall, muscular, grim faced boy appears on the projection. "Eighteen years old. So eager to volunteer that he didn't wait for the District Two Escort to finish reading the name of the Reaped Tribute before volunteering."

"And, last, but certainly not least," Haymitch says as the image of Lexus Alexander fades, "I give you Silver Collinwood of District One." A tall, muscular, blonde boy appears on the projection, his handsome, smiling face brimming with confidence. "He's eighteen." Haymitch turns and faces us. "Last year the District Two pair, Cato and Clove, were the most lethal. I have a feeling that this year District One will take those honors."

"Because of Aurora?" I ask.

"In part," Haymitch replies. "I want you all to watch something." He quickly replays each of the Career Tributes volunteering and taking the stage. "District Two didn't even look at each other until the end. District Four, on the other hand, well, Ishmael and Thalassa actually hugged each other. Obviously, there's some history...not to mention emotional attachment...there. But look at the body language from the District One Tributes."

I watch again as Haymitch replays Aurora and Silver taking the stage. "Well?" Haymitch looks at Gamma and I impatiently.

"Look there," Haymitch instructs us. "See the subtle eye contact? The almost invisible smiles? These two have something already worked out between them...and that makes them the most dangerous."

I glance around the dining car. Gamma is chewing on her lip and looks nervous...or maybe "concerned" is a more appropriate term. Effie looks stressed...but I have yet to see her relax completely since the Reaping. Cressida and her crew, of course, were not invited...this is, after all, a strategy meeting, and they left as soon as the Recaps were finished.

My gaze falls on Katniss last. If anyone could manage to look bored and angry at the same time, it was Katniss Everdeen. I let my eyes linger on her for a moment...this girl that I've secretly loved for so long. She looks the same as she always has, yet...different. It took me a few seconds to realize just why she looked different.

She looks perfect.

Her black hair was shiny and lustrous. Rather than the braid that she always wore in District Twelve, her hair was falling in loose waves about her shoulders. Her olive skin was perfect...free from any scars or blemishes. And her body...the body that she so carefully concealed for so long so as to avoid unwanted attention drawn to her often emaciated frame...her body was still slender, but now, with unmistakable womanly curves. If only she weren't scowling...

"What?" she snaps, glaring at me.

I immediately snap from my reverie. "Uhhh...nothing. Sorry." I mumble, simultaneously embarrassed and aroused. I quickly turn away, my face and neck reddening.

I hear Haymitch chuckle. "Well, it doesn't look like there's any questions. You two should try to get some rest. We arrive in the Capitol late tomorrow morning."

"Oh, yes," Katniss adds, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "After all, tomorrow is another big, big, big, BIG day! Right, Effie?" She glares at Effie, then at Haymitch. "Especially for me," she adds as she abruptly rises and storms out of the dining car.

"Honestly, Haymitch!" Effie says once Katniss is gone, "What is wrong with that girl? I've never seen anyone so moody in my life! Laughing one minute, angry the next...I thought she was difficult last year, but this -"

"I'll talk to her, Effie," a surprisingly subdued Haymitch promises.

Gamma snorts in disgust. "Don't know why she's so pissy," she says, referring to Katniss. "After all, it ain't like she knows she'll be dead in a couple weeks...like me." With that, Gamma abruptly rises to her feet as well and leaves.

Effie looks stricken. Haymitch just looks pained. I slowly stand up. "I guess I should turn in also," I say quietly. "G'night, Haymitch. G'night, Effie."

Haymitch and Effie both quickly mumble "Goodnight" to me. They are deep in a quiet, but intense, conversation before the door of the dining car hisses shut behind me.

I sigh and lean up against the wall, then turn and look out the window. It's dark outside. I can't see a thing. Was it really only this afternoon that I stepped forward and volunteered? I sigh again, jamming my hands in my pockets. Katniss won't talk to me, my district partner is an angry Seam girl that probably won't last five minutes once the gong sounds, and for the first time life in the mines doesn't sound so bad.

Too late for that, though. I wearily trudge back to my room, hoping against hope that I'll be able to sleep.

PART IV

I sit in the lounge car, cradling a mug of warm milk. It's sometime after midnight. In a matter of hours, we'll be in the Capitol. The cold grip of reality is slowly starting to sink in.

It's happening. It's really happening. Is this what Gale felt last year? No...it couldn't be. He knew he was there to sacrifice himself for Katniss. I'm not going to sacrifice myself for anyone. Because I want to live. Oh, how I want to live.

I should be in bed, asleep. I need to sleep. I need to be well rested. And, if I can't sleep on the train, how am I supposed to sleep in the Training Center?

I take a sip of the milk. It's good...nice and warm, with honey and spice. The milk warms me all the way down. Hopefully, in a few minutes, I'll begin to feel drowsy. I take another sip, then lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

The hiss of the door opening causes my eyes to snap open. I'm almost positive I know who it is. I heard the screaming a few minutes ago, faint and far away.

Katniss, wearing a short robe over her nightgown, stops short as soon as she sees me. I see her eyes narrow a bit when she recognizes me. She hesitates for just a moment, undecided if she should retreat or move forward.

"Sorry," she mumbles as she turns to go.

"No!" I say, a little more sharply than I intended. "I mean," I say more softly, "Katniss...wait."

Katniss, her back already turned, pauses and turns her head almost imperceptibly. "Why?"

I stand up, feeling awkward...and more than a little aroused at Katniss standing there in a brief, but practical, nightgown and robe. "Look...I've been in here a while. I'll leave. I'm sure you want some privacy." I move to brush past her, only to feel her hand on my arm.

"No," she says. "I mean...you don't have to go if you don't want to."

Truthfully, I didn't want to go...not with her there. "Okay," I say softly. "I guess I'll finish my drink." I turn and go back to my chair.

"Drink?" Katniss asks. "Has Haymitch corrupted you that badly?"

I give her a shy smile. "It's milk," I explain. "Warm milk. Hopefully it'll help me sleep."

Katniss averts her eyes. "Oh."

"Would you like some?" I ask. Katniss looks up at me and nods, once. "Sure."

I press the call button by my chair. The Capitol Attendant is there in seconds.

"Yes, sir?"

"Can I get a pitcher of this, please?" I ask. "And another mug?"

"Right away, sir," the attendant says.

I settle back in my chair as Katniss sits opposite me. Neither of us speaks for several minutes. The attendant brings the pitcher and extra mug. I pour a mug for Katniss and set it before her, then refill my own mug. Katniss settles back in her chair, sipping her milk and looking out at the blackness of the night rolling past at more than three hundred kilometers an hour.

Finally, I can't stand it anymore. "Say it."

Katniss looks at me sharply. "What?"

"Say it," I repeat. "You're pissed at me. So let me have it."

Katniss whirls around in her chair, her eyes blazing. "Pissed? Pissed? Try furious!" Her chest was heaving and for a moment I was wondering if it was such a good idea to force this issue.

"You lied to me, you asshole!" Her voice, although low, positively dripped venom. "'Katniss, I'm going to the mines! Katniss, please show me how to make snares so I don't starve!' And I believed it! You son of a bitch!"

"Can I ask you something?" I look at her warily.

"What?" she snaps.

"Would you have helped me if you had known?" I ask gently.

Katniss hesitates for a moment. "I don't know," she finally replies.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"What?"

I take a deep breath. "Are you angry with Haymitch, Madge, Delly, and Prim also?"

Her eyes blazed forth once more. "You leave my sister out of this!"

"Why?" I ask. "She figured it out. So did Madge and Delly. So did Coach, for that matter. And Haymitch knew all along." I pause, watching her as she digests this information. "So...are you mad at them too? Or am I special?"

"'Special?'" Katniss laughs. "Don't flatter yourself!"

"So you are mad at them also."

"I didn't say that!" Katniss glares at me. "Don't put words into my mouth!"

After her outburst, Katniss looks away from me, embarrassed. I don't have to put words in your mouth, Katniss, I say to myself. I want to say more, but the look in her eyes stops me. It's not an angry look. It's a pleading look.

"So, are they bad?" I ask gently, changing the subject.

"Is what bad?" Katniss asks wearily.

"Your nightmares," I reply softly.

"What makes you think I have nightmares?" Katniss snaps.

"Snow's Beard, Katniss," I reply. "I heard you screaming tonight. I heard you screaming just about every night I was living with Haymitch."

Katniss looks down at her mug. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Why not?" I ask. "It may help to talk about it."

Katniss laughs bitterly. "If I won't talk about it with Prim, or my Mom, what makes you think that I'll talk about it with you?"

"Because," I say slowly, "I'm not Prim...or your Mom."

Katniss raises her eyes to mine. When she looks at me now, she's not angry. Her eyes are pleading with me. "Please," she whispers. "Please drop it."

I nod slowly. "Okay, Katniss. If that's what you want."

"That's what I want," Katniss says in a near whisper. She sets her mug down and quickly stands up. "I'm going back to bed," she announces. "You should probably try to get some rest, too. Tomorrow's a busy day...for both of us."

I put my mug down. "Okay." I stand up as Katniss turns to go. "Katniss?"

She stops but doesn't turn back around. "What?"

I hesitate, not knowing if I really want to know the answer...but knowing that I have to ask anyway. "Are you...are you still mad at me?"

Her answer comes immediately. "Yes." It's almost a whisper.

"For what it's worth," I say slowly, "I'm sorry."

She still doesn't turn around. "I know."

And then she's gone. I hear the door hiss open, then shut. I sigh heavily, and then follow her. I pass her door, pause for a moment, then walk on to my room. I slip into my room, drop my robe, and crawl into bed.

I expect to lay awake all night long, but I'm asleep within moments. My dreams are all of Katniss...erotic, naked, loving me with her perfect body. I wake up once, my erection so hard it's almost painful, my bedclothes sticky with my nocturnal discharge.

I sigh and get up, stripping off my shorts and pulling the sticky sheets from my bed before lying back down again. As sleep begins to creep up on me again, one final thought goes through my mind.

I have about as much chance of Katniss falling in love with me as I do winning the Hunger Games.

PART V

The Capitol.

We are eating breakfast when we caught our first glimpse of this near-legendary city. We passed through an incredibly long tunnel through the massive mountains that ringed the city. Haymitch told us that one tunnel was over three kilometers long. It was as we emerged into the bright early summer sunshine that the gleaming city first came in to view.

It was the most impressive thing that I had ever seen.

Even Gamma was speechless...although; I noticed that she didn't stop eating, especially when she discovered the joys of hot chocolate. Cressida and her crew were busy filming our reactions at our first view of the Capitol. As for the rest, Haymitch looked bored, Effie looked stressed, and Katniss, for some reason, tried with no success to hide her nervousness.

Whatever happened here during her Victory Tour...that's what's got her anxious. I desperately want to help, but I know better. I didn't want her biting my head off before the Games even started.

"Look at 'em," Gamma says softly, gesturing at the film crew even as she stares in wonder at the Capitol. "Filmin' the bumpkins so everyone can have a laugh at Mandatory Viewin' tonight."

I sigh. At least she was saying it quietly for a change. "Believe it or not, they're all on our side here."

"Ha!" Gamma turns back towards the camera crews, whether to glare at them or make some obscene gesture, I'll never know. Whatever her plans were, she never got the chance to carry them out. Instead, she got an education.

"You!" My head snaps around at Gamma's outburst. "Yeah, you! With the beard! What the fuck are you doing?" Gamma makes a series of nonsensical gestures with her hands, and I realize that she's mocking Pollux. "What the fuck is all that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Gamma, he's -" I begin to say, before Castor, Pollux's brother, cuts me off.

"It's called Amsalan," Castor says coldly. "It's how he talks."

"How he talks?" Gamma says skeptically. "Why don't he just talk, then?"

"He...he can't, dear," Effie says, shooting an apologetic glance toward the two brothers. "Pollux is...an Avox."

"A what?" Gamma turns and glares at Effie. "What the fuck is an 'Avox,' Peacock?"

"It's 'Effie,' not Peacock!" Haymitch snaps. "And, Darlin', an Avox is a Capitol citizen that had his or her tongue removed as punishment, and had their citizenship stripped from them at the same time. They become virtual slaves."

For once Gamma is speechless. "Pollux worked for over five years in the sewers, before I was able to buy his freedom," Castor explains evenly. "That was two years ago. That's when he and I started working for Cressida."

Gamma is obviously embarrassed, although she tries valiantly to hide it. "What...what did he do?"

Castor glances at his brother before replying. "Does it matter?"

Gamma averts her eyes from the brothers. Haymitch can't resist a final dig. "Look at you, Darlin'. Findin' out that there's worse things than the Community Home."

Gamma flushes deep red, and then turns toward Castor and Pollux. "I...I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't know."

At this, Pollux laughs. It's an unusual sound without a tongue, but it's unmistakably a laugh. He quickly signs to his brother, who also bursts out laughing. Gamma frowns, looking first at Castor, then at Pollux.

"What's so funny?" She demands.

Castor turns toward Gamma. He's smiling. "My brother says 'no worries' and to 'forget it.' He also said that it was worth it watching you call yourself an asshole when you were making fun of his signing."

"I called myself -" Gamma says slowly.

Pollux very carefully signs back at her. "An asshole," Castor says with a smile.

The only one who wasn't laughing was Gamma...but the sheepish look on her face spoke volumes.

"Okay, you two," Haymitch says a few minutes later. "Listen up. We're about five minutes out from the train station. It's gonna be a friggin' madhouse there when we get there. This is what I want from you both. I wanna see smiles and waves to the crowd...especially you, Darlin'...Snow knows you need work in the 'friendly and likable' department."

"Smile and wave?" Gamma practically snarls the words. "At a bunch of people that want to see me die in the most 'entertaining' way?"

"You heard me," Haymitch says grimly. "You smile, you wave...and maybe, just maybe, someone throws some sponsor money your way. Got it?"

Gamma just grunts. Haymitch ignores her and continues to talk.

"We're going straight from the train station to the Remake Center. You'll meet your Prep Teams and Stylists there. Trust me, you'll probably hate what they're gonna do to you, so I'll only say this once. Do not resist them and let them do whatever they want. These people are experts at bringing out the best in a Tribute."

"You'll be working with Cinna and his Prep Team," Katniss tells Gamma quietly. It's the first advice I've heard her give to her Tribute since Gamma was Reaped. "Cinna's the best. You'll end up liking him. I do, and it's well known that I don't like anyone."

Gamma looks unconvinced...and, now that the train is beginning to slow, more than a little nervous. I glance at Katniss and see her face set in its' usual impassive mask. If her last comment was meant as a joke, she's doing a great job of hiding it.

The station comes into view, with throngs of people on both platforms. Haymitch very quietly urges Gamma and I to the windows. Swallowing my own nervousness, I watch, as the platform gets larger and larger. I'm amazed that people aren't being bodily shoved off the platform and onto the tracks.

"It's a miracle no one gets killed," I remark to Haymitch.

Haymitch grins. "Now that would be bad publicity, kid," he says. "But don't worry. Ain't no one gonna get run over by this, or any other, train. There's a force field on both platforms. The harder they push against it, the harder it pushes them back."

We're close enough now that I can make eye contact with some of the people. They all look similar to Effie...the same outlandish hair and the same loud, colorful clothing. And they're all cheering...and, I realize with some shock, they're cheering for me.

The few that I make eye contact with erupt in an absolute frenzy. Everyone else is cheering and jumping up and down, trying to attract my attention. I smile and wave, like Haymitch said to, and the effect on the crowd is electric.

The train lurches to a halt. "Wait for the guard!" Haymitch calls out. Outside the train a platoon of white-clad Peacekeepers assembles, forming a loose wedge in front of the large glass doors. When the doors hiss open, Haymitch beckons "Follow me." He may have said something, too...but it was lost in the cacophony of noise erupting from the platform. I follow Haymitch through the doors and notice that the platform immediately begins to slope downward. I realize that the platform itself has lowered into a ramp, leading under the rest of the station. In moments our entire group...Mentors, Tributes, the camera crew, and Effie Trinket, our Escort...are standing in a narrow, well-lit tunnel. The crowd noise quickly fades, and then disappears entirely, as the ramp closes over our heads and the Peacekeepers seem to melt into the walls and disappear.

Haymitch points up toward the platform. "They put the ramp in ten years ago," he explains, "after Finnick Odair was mobbed during his first Games as Mentor. It took District Four so long to get through the crowd that their Prep Teams and Stylists had almost no time to prep their Tributes that year. Both Tributes from Four were killed in the bloodbath that year, coincidentally."

"So what are we doing here?" I ask.

"Waiting for our ride," Haymitch replies. "Ahh...there they come!"

I glance down the tunnel and see a procession of small, electrically powered carts headed our way. Effie and Cressida get in the first one, Katniss and Gamma the second, Haymitch and I the third, and Messalla, Castor and Pollux the fourth. Once everyone is seated, the carts begin to speed down the tunnel toward the Remake Center.

"The Remake Center is about two kilometers away," Haymitch explains to me. "You won't be there long. Your Prep Team will...well, prep you, and then you'll meet Portia, your Stylist. She and Cinna are probably the best team of Stylists in the Games. Once she and Cinna have you and Gamma all prepped and dressed, you'll ride in the Tribute Parade, then we all go straight to the Training Center afterwards."

"And what will you and Katniss be doing while Gamma and I are being worked on?" I ask.

Haymitch pauses for a moment to remove a flask from his jacket pocket. He uncaps it, takes a long pull, carefully caps it again, and slips it back into his pocket. "We'll find out at the Remake Center, kid," he says without smiling. "I'm sure they'll have some bullshit for us to deal with."

I glance at the cart directly in front of us and notice that Katniss is nervously fingering an embossed card that she has clutched in her hand. When she sees me watching her she quickly slips it into her pocket, then quickly looks away. She doesn't look in my direction for the rest of the short trip to the Remake Center. Soon after, we arrive at the Remake Center, where Gamma and I are met immediately by our respective Prep Teams.

"Remember," Haymitch calls out, "Don't resist!"

As Gamma and I are hustled into the Remake Center, I find myself wondering exactly what was on that card.

PART VI

"Peeta?" I jump slightly from my position on the gurney. I glance in the direction of the voice, embarrassed that I was so easily startled...not to mention the fact that I'm sitting here completely naked except for a thin robe covering me.

The owner of the voice...a tall, slender, blonde haired, dark skinned woman...smiles at me. "Sorry if I startled you," she says contritely. I sit up, mindful to keep the robe closed and covering my midsection. The woman extends her hand. "I'm Portia," she continues with a smile. "Your Stylist."

I take her hand. She squeezes my hand firmly, her fingers warm against mine. "Peeta Mellark," I mumble.

"I know." The woman smiles at me again, and this time I shyly return it. Did Gale give you shit last year? I ask myself, and then I'm immediately ashamed for the thought. It was unfair to Gale's memory, and it was unfair to this smiling, friendly woman standing in front of me.

"Can you stand up for me, Peeta?" Portia asks. I slide off the gurney and stand in front of her, acutely aware of just how thin the robe is. Portia examines me with a critical eye, cradling her chin in her hand.

"Please remove your robe," she says suddenly. I look at her in astonishment for a moment, with Haymitch's words echoing in my mind. Don't resist, he had said. I sigh, untie the robe, and slip it off my shoulders, laying it carefully on the gurney.

"Hmmm." Portia slowly walks all around me, her eyes flicking up and down my naked...and now totally hairless...body. The Prep Team and been very thorough, taking great pains to remove every bit of my body hair, leaving only my face and head untouched.

Portia finishes her examination, nodding her head thoughtfully. "Okay, go ahead and put your robe back on and have a seat." She points to one of two chairs placed near the gurney. I quickly slip the robe on and sit, while Portia settles into the chair opposite mine.

"How do you feel, Peeta?" She asks gently.

"Confused. Scared. Anxious." I reply truthfully.

Portia smiles warmly at me. "I can understand all three. Do you remember the Parade from last year?"

It was my turn to smile now. "How could I forget? It was amazing!"

"Cinna and I decided to stay with the same theme...burning coal...but at the same time change it up a bit. No flames this year, sorry." Portia holds up a square of black, iridescent material. "Your costume, as well as Gamma's costume, is made out of this material. Cinna and I decided that, instead of burning coal, this year District Twelve would be glowing embers."

Portia displays a button set into the top of a small cylindrical object. When she pushes it, the square of material immediately begins to emit a soft, orange glow, the pattern constantly changing. When she waves the material through the air, glowing sparks jump from the square like embers from a fire. She pushes the button once more and the orange glow immediately disappears.

"Feel," she says, holding the fabric out to me. I grab the square and find that it's cool to the touch.

"Cinna will be along in a moment," Portia explains. "He's with Gamma right now. But here's the plan. You will have control of the costumes. Once your chariot emerges onto the Avenue of Tributes from the Remake Center tunnel, count to ten and push the button. Your button will control both costumes and is identical to this one. Instead of making a flaming entrance like Katniss and Gale did last year, you and Gamma suddenly 'coming to life' in front of everyone will be every bit as dramatic. And remember to work the crowd. Smile, blow kisses, and wave."

I nod solemnly as Portia speaks.

"Keep the costumes on until your chariot comes to a complete stop in City Center. Once you stop moving, turn off the costumes immediately." Portia continues, and then pauses when a slender, dark skinned man, dressed entirely in black, enters the room.

"Hello, Peeta. I'm Cinna," he says, offering his hand. We shake hands firmly. "Portia explained the plan to you?" I nod. "Good. Any questions?"

"No," I reply. "It's simple enough."

Cinna clasps me on the shoulder and smiles. "Good man. Anyway, I stepped away from your district partner for a moment to talk with you. You made a huge stir during the Reapings, you know."

"I did?" I ask skeptically. "I mean, Katniss and Gale both volunteered last year."

"It's not just the volunteering," Cinna explains. "The way you strode up to the stage, brimming with confidence. The way you faced the crowd and how you spoke to them...everyone is still talking about it, and...well, you already have a nickname here."

"What is it?" I ask, with more than just a little trepidation.

Cinna smiles. "The Career from District Twelve."

Portia escorts me to the assembly area beneath the Remake Center. I'm covered head to toe in the same black fabric that Portia had demonstrated earlier. It's skin-tight, sleeveless, and open down my chest.

"You remember the change we talked about?" Portia asks.

I nod. "No waving, smiling, or blowing kisses. Don't smile, don't make eye contact with anyone, be aloof."

"You got it," she says, and then sighs. "It's probably not going to get you many Sponsors, but Gamma wasn't going to cooperate anyway. It's best if you both are on the same page. And who knows? The crowd just may like the 'we're above this all' act."

"I just hope she didn't screw things up for us both," I mutter.

We stop a few paces from the District Twelve chariot. Gamma is already waiting for me, gawking at the horses and trying to hide her own nervousness. "This is where we part," Portia says to me. She squeezes my shoulder affectionately. "I'll see you in the Training Center after the Parade. Where's the button?"

I hold up my left hand. The control for the costumes is clutched firmly in my fingers.

"Remember," she says as she turns to walk away. "A ten count after you emerge onto the Avenue of Tributes, and turn them off as soon as you stop in City Circle."

I watch Portia disappear into the crowd near where we entered the assembly area, then turn and walk over to where Gamma is standing, and see her tentatively touch the neck of one of the black horses hitched to our chariot.

She glances at me as I walk up, and then continues to stroke the big animal's neck. "I ain't never seen a real horse before," she says softly.

"Neither have I," I admit. I stroke the horse's neck and long nose. The horse makes a nickering sound and leans into my hand.

"I feel stupid wearing this," Gamma confesses. She's dressed as I am, except her shoulders are bare and somehow Cinna managed to prop up her breasts into displaying acceptable, if not abundant, cleavage. Still, she looks more like a little girl trying to play dress-up rather than a sixteen-year-old young woman.

"How do you think I feel?" I ask. "I can barely breathe, it's so tight!"

"You too?" Gamma says with a small smile.

"Tributes, mount your chariots," a voice suddenly booms over our heads. Gamma and I step up into the chariot, with her to my right. I stare down the line of chariots and gauge the competition. That's an advantage to being from Twelve...you can see every other chariot in the line simply by looking straight ahead.

I notice one boy, in a chariot about a third of the way from the front, turn around and fix Gamma with an angry glare. She, in turn, steadfastly ignores him. I say nothing until I see his chariot lurch forward as it begins to move.

"What's that all about?" I ask.

"Him?" Gamma sniffs. "He came strolling back here a few minutes before you got here, eating sugar cubes and asking me if I wanted one too."

"Sugar cubes?" I ask in astonishment. "Where did he get sugar cubes?"

"I guess you could get them to give to the horses," Gamma replies. She glares at the boy's back. "Creep."

I suddenly remember that he was one of the boys that Haymitch had specifically warned us about. Ishmael Brennan, of District Four. One of the Careers. "What did you say to him?" I ask as the District Eleven chariot begins to move.

"I told him to fuck off," Gamma says with a tight smile as our chariot gives a sudden jerk, and then begins to roll forward slowly.

"Look at you," I laugh. "Still in the Remake Center and making friends already!"

If Gamma said anything in response, it was lost in the crowd roar as we emerge into the blinding late afternoon sunshine in the Capitol.

The crowd was so loud I could actually feel the noise in my chest. I remember...just barely...to begin to count as our chariot slowly rolls down the Avenue of Tributes. Dimly I can hear music playing...all but drowned out by the crowd.

I glance at Gamma. She's staring straight ahead, her mouth set in a thin line, her hands gripping the handhold firmly. I see her mouth move, and, although I can't hear a word, I can read her lips very clearly.

"Holy shit!"

My eyes scan the wildly enthusiastic crowd. The best is yet to come, I say to myself as my count reaches ten and I mash my thumb down on the button. I keep my eyes straight ahead, my face set in a mask of grim determination, so at first I can't see if the costumes "lit" the way they were supposed to.

I didn't have to. The roar of the crowd tells me everything I need to know.

We're being pelted with roses, the crowd screaming wildly, and, as we roll toward City Center, a new sound arises from the massive crush of humanity.

They're chanting our names.

From my side of the chariot I hear, in unison, PEETA! PEETA! PEETA! I turn my head towards the right side of the chariot and I can now hear GAMMA! GAMMA! GAMMA!

Gamma turns to me, eyes wide, and leans in close so I can hear her. "They...they're chantin' my name! Our names!"

I nod and flash her a quick smile to show her that I understand, then turn back and watch, as City Circle gets ever closer. The floor of the chariot is covered in roses of all colors and sizes.

Our chariot enters City Circle from the right and slowly makes its way around the circle, slowing, then finally lurching to a complete stop. At that instant, I press the button again, and the embers immediately extinguish themselves. Another roar erupts from the crowd as our flame dies.

I raise my eyes to see President Coriolanus Snow step up to the microphone on the balcony above our heads. He begins to speak, welcoming us to the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games and the Third Quarter Quell, but I hardly listen. Instead, my attention is on what my district partner is saying.

"I ain't nobody no more," she says in almost a whisper. "Today, I'm somebody. I'm somebody!"

Yes, you are, Gamma, I say to myself, allowing a small grin to crease my face.

I'm sure the cameras loved that. I know I did.

PART VII

"That was great, you two!"

Cinna, Portia, Effie, and Haymitch greet us enthusiastically in the Training Center assembly area. Katniss was noticeably absent.

I catch Haymitch's eye and mouth "Katniss?" His face settles into a grim mask and he shakes his head, once, quickly. So, she has already been "called away." I wonder if it has something to do with that mysterious embossed card that she was clutching so desperately on the cart ride from the train station to the Remake Center.

Her absence isn't lost on Gamma, either...but she's learning how to play the game within the Games. No public outbursts...no scenes...especially not with other Tributes present. No, she'll wait until we're alone before she says anything.

Our entrance was not lost on the other Tributes, especially the Careers from Districts One, Two and Four. I notice Aurora, the girl from District One, paying especially close attention to us. The Careers hate being upstaged, especially by the smallest, poorest district in Panem. As Haymitch talks with the Stylists and Effie, I catch Aurora's eye, arch one eyebrow, and then quickly push the button in my hand again.

Gamma and I flare to life once more, much to the surprise of Aurora and the rest of the Career Pack. Still looking her in the eye, I give her a confident smirk, only to see her eyes narrow with anger.

My trick wasn't lost on our group, either, as Cinna gently takes the button from my hand and quickly pushes it, extinguishing our costumes. "All right," he says patiently. "Enough fun for one evening."

"I agree," Haymitch says firmly. "Time to head upstairs."

We walk to a bank of elevators as a group. Effie is in deep conversation with Portia, with Cinna chiming in every so often. Meanwhile, Haymitch is speaking to Gamma and myself, telling us in fairly general terms what to expect in the morning when we begin our training.

We aren't the only group waiting for elevators. A pair of Tributes dressed as railroad engineers identifies one group as coming from District Six, while another Tribute pair is dressed, rather ridiculously in my opinion, as trees, marking them as hailing from District Seven. Haymitch nods at a man with the District Seven group...a man roughly Haymitch's age, of medium build, sporting a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee.

"Blight," Haymitch says cordially, stepping forward and offering the man his hand.

The other man takes Haymitch's proffered hand, shaking it firmly. "Haymitch." He looks around in obvious confusion. "Where's your newbie?"

"Called away earlier tonight," Haymitch explains. "Games business." I realize now that Haymitch and the other man...'Blight,' Haymitch had called him...were speaking about Katniss.

A shadow seems to pass over Blight's face at Haymitch's mention of Katniss being called away on "Games Business." Something was going on with Katniss that, apparently, neither of these men liked.

Haymitch glances at me quickly, then turns back to Blight and deftly changes the subject. "So, where's Mason?"

"Heavensbee wanted to talk to her," Blight explains. "Apparently, neither he nor Seneca were too happy with her perceived 'lack of respect' during President Snow's opening remarks."

"Oh, really?" Haymitch says with a grin. "I must have missed that."

"The cameras cut away immediately," Blight explains, "before any Mandatory viewers could see her doing this." Blight cups his right hand and moves it up and down, mimicking the motions of male masturbation.

Haymitch tries, and fails, to hold back the laughter that rises in his throat. "Oh, shit! She didn't!"

"She did," Blight says grimly. "She did, and I hope that the Gamemakers don't end up taking it out on my kids in the arena because of her." He says this last part softly, and I realize that he's referring to the District Seven Tributes as "my kids."

"I'm sorry, Blight," Haymitch says contritely, his laughter dying away immediately. "Listen, why don't you and I go see Plutarch or Seneca tomorrow. I'll help you plead your case."

"Thanks, Haymitch," Blight says gratefully. "I appreciate your help. Heavensbee will listen to you more than me." A series of soft chiming noises announces the arrival of several elevators. Blight and his group head off to the one nearest them, and then he stops and turns back towards us, even as we head to the nearest open elevator door.

"Haymitch, can you do me another favor and wait for Jo? She should be along any minute and I want to make sure she gets off on the right floor."

What Blight doesn't say speaks louder than what he did say. Johanna Mason, his fellow Victor and Mentor, obviously needs someone to help her "focus" on her duties at hand. And, as I had just finished putting two and two together and realized that the person that Haymitch and Blight and been discussing was none other than Johanna Mason of District Seven, I find myself hoping that Haymitch would agree to hang back and wait for her.

Haymitch and Blight had both become Victors before I was born; but I remember Johanna Mason's Games quite well...and the prospect of meeting a celebrity was, in spite of the circumstances involved, more than a little exciting.

Haymitch immediately agrees. "Hold up, kids." He turns toward Blight. "Sure, no problem...but I'm only giving her five minutes."

Blight grins at Haymitch. "Thanks, Haymitch. I owe you one." He then turns and steps into the elevator with the rest of his group, the doors shutting behind him a moment later.

"Haymitch?" Effie's voice calls out from the last remaining elevator. Her hand is on the door as she holds the elevator in place.

"You go on ahead, Princess," Haymitch drawls. "The kids and I will be along shortly."

"Don't be long," Effie admonishes. "We still have work to do tonight." With that, she allows the doors to slide shut.

Haymitch turns back to us with a sigh. "Just relax, you two. We'll wait a few minutes and see if Mason shows up or not."

"Are we really waitin' for Johanna Mason?" Gamma asks. I can see that I'm not the only one that's a little star-struck. I find myself smiling at the thought.

"The one an' only," Haymitch replies, and then adds, "What, Katniss and I ain't 'star' enough for you two?"

"It's not that," I say quickly. "But...well, we see you around Twelve all the time, and -"

Haymitch laughs. "Forget it, kid," he says. "I'm just pullin' your chain."

The sudden staccato of high heels on the tile floor provides a thankful diversion from my embarrassment. I turn to see a young, slender woman, dressed in a long sleeved, short, dusty orange dress and matching high heels hurry toward us. She stops short, glancing at us in confusion, ruffling her hand through her short, dark hair. She's as tall as I am, and considerably taller than Gamma.

"Abernathy?" The young woman frowns as she glares at Haymitch, while ignoring Gamma and I. "What are you still doing here? Where are Blight and the rest of my crew?"

I've just met Johanna Mason.

"Blight asked me to hang back and wait for you," Haymitch explains, and then turns to me. "Call an elevator, please, Peeta."

"Sure," I say, turning and poking the call button. It was then that I realized that he called me by my name instead of "kid." I wonder about that. That was deliberate on his part.

"And you did," Johanna says with a smile, although there was an angry glint in her eye. "Doesn't Blight realize that I know the friggin' way?"

"He just wanted to make sure you didn't get sidetracked along the way," Haymitch replies with a smile.

"Shit!" Johanna says disgustedly, then turns and looks at Gamma and I as if noticing us for the first time. "These yours?" She asks Haymitch, jerking her thumb in our direction.

"Yeah," Haymitch replies. "Gamma Churchill, Peeta Mellark...Johanna Mason."

"Hello," Gamma says timidly. It's the most subdued I've ever heard her sound.

"Hi," Johanna replies distractedly as she turns toward me. "And this is your Volunteer? What the fuck's going on in Twelve, anyway? All these Volunteers! They spike your water or something?"

"Jo -" Haymitch begins to say, but I interrupt.

"Nice meeting you, Miss Mason," I say smoothly, belying my nervousness. I extend my hand to her.

"Well!" Johanna says, taking my hand briefly. "At least there's some gentlemen in District Twelve. Nice to meet you too, Handsome!" She smiles warmly at me.

The elevator chime dings softly behind us as the doors slide open. "After you," Haymitch says to Johanna, gallantly sweeping his arm toward the open elevator.

The sarcasm isn't lost on Johanna, who steps into the elevator first, followed by Gamma, Haymitch, and me. "Seven, please," she says as Haymitch punches first the Seven, then the Twelve, buttons. The elevator begins to move.

"Where's your partner?" Johanna asks Haymitch.

"Games business," Haymitch replies grimly.

Johanna's eyes narrow slightly. "I wonder if Finnick is with her. He was called away also."

"Cashmere, too," Haymitch adds.

"Shit." Johanna says softly.

The elevator chimes softly as we arrive at the seventh floor. "This is where I get off," Johanna says. She turns to Gamma. "Goodbye, Gamma. And good luck."

Gamma's eyes widen as Johanna addresses her directly for the first time. "Bye," she manages to stammer. "And thanks."

Johanna smiles and turns toward me. "And I hope to see you again, Handsome," she says with a smile, placing her hand on my cheek briefly. I can feel myself flushing in spite of myself. Haymitch just looks at us both and chuckles.

"G'night, Jo," he calls out as Johanna steps from the elevator. She doesn't turn around or look back; instead, she just casually waves her hand over her head as the doors close behind her.

The elevator begins to move once more. Haymitch turns toward Gamma and I. "When we get to our apartments, you two go get changed. We'll eat dinner after you change. We'll need to watch the Parade Recaps, and then I want you both in bed early. Training starts tomorrow morning at ten."

I feel my stomach tighten a bit when Haymitch mentions Training. We'll be spending the next several days with the rest of the Tributes. The Games start in less than a week.

The elevator stops and opens directly into our apartments. I can't help but gasp in awe at the richness and opulence displayed before me. I glance at Gamma and see that she, too, is in awe at what she sees.

Haymitch, Gamma and I step off the elevator into what Effie calls the "Penthouse." And then it strikes me.

This is the last place that I may ever be comfortable in again.

Ever.