Chapter 2: Strange Feelings

"Come on, Katty! Come on! We have to get good seats!"

I'll say this about being friends with Madge Undersee – she certainly knows how to help you keep to a schedule. And there's never been a more enthusiastic, rah-rah supporter of school activities than her, which has subsequently led me to display more extracurricular participation and enthusiasm this year than in all my educational years previous.

I used to never follow the school sports season, fall or spring, until Peeta told me just after the start of term that he intended to try out for his weight class on the wrestling team. 12 is the youngest age you can be considered, and I try not to think about how this may be coincident to Reaping eligibility. After all, wrestling is a useful skill to have in the arena.

On this cold and rainy fall afternoon, the gymnasium is packed and noisy, kids our age acting out raucously in the bleachers. The prime seats in the first few rows are already taken, so Madge takes my hand and guides me higher up the stands.

"We'll probably get an even better view from up here anyway." She points to the scoreboard. "See that? For the wrestling matches, the HOME and AWAY scores flash the last names of the two competitors." She peers at me in a way that is almost teasing. "We'll know when Peeta comes out…."

I feel my cheeks burn. I don't know what Madge thinks is going on. It was harder to talk with Peeta this past summer, since the Games. We had managed to develop something of a cordial friendship during trades, since that day he gave me the fresh bread. More recently, however, whenever I've gone to trade squirrel at the back loading dock door, the Witch has suddenly made a point of conducting most of the trades herself. As a result, the bread's not as nice as the ones Peeta tends to offers when I deal with him. I didn't get to see Peeta for weeks, not until school let back in. Now, we eat lunch with Madge and Delly every day. Recently, Gale Hawthorne has taken to joining us, as we finally share the same lunch period.

Magde is still studying me curiously, and I quickly change the subject. "You said their last names will flash up? Peeta's brother could come out first!"

"You'll know when it's Peeta. Rye tends to do a lot of showboating," Madge smirks. "I've heard some of the guys say Peeta has taken to wrestling like a hog to slop."

That might be true, but we're still only sixteen, and being that young, Peeta will probably be in the smallest weight class…. I bite my lip in concern.

Finding some empty spaces on the bleachers, Madge and I sit down, the Mayor's daughter eagerly grabbing my arm. "Isn't this exciting, Katty?"

I smile weakly, halfheartedly ruing the day that Madge overheard Peeta calling me 'Katty.' The pet name is something I've only ever allowed from him and Prim (on our hunts, Gale has taken to sticking me with the more amusing nickname Catnip. At least, it's amusing to him). Anyway, when Madge heard my pet name is 'Katty,' she immediately made a habit of calling me that as well. I don't really mind – other than Delly Cartwright, Madge is still the only girlfriend I have, and we've taken to spending a lot of time together after school hours…. especially now that, come the final ringing of the bell, I haven't been able to see as much of Peeta. Sometimes, Prim will walk home with the Hawthornes while I stop by the mayoral residence in the Justice Building after school, spending an hour or two listening to Madge play the piano.

Scanning the crowd, I spot a solitary figure seated up in one corner at the height of the bleachers, and frown. "Madge? What is Haymitch Abernathy doing here?"

The corner is slightly darkened, but I can still clearly make out Haymitch, predictably taking a slug from his flask.

"Oh, Haymitch likes to sit in at most of the sporting events. Coach Gintis, the wrestling coach? – he calls it 'scouting'. For the Games."

I gape at her in horror and revulsion. "But Victors don't have any say over who comes out of the Reaping Bowl!"

Madge shrugs. "Doesn't stop them from scouting for talent. Daddy says the Victors in the Career districts do it all the time."

I take one more glance back at the drunk. Even if he does perform some scouting for fresh blood, strong tributes who might make a go at the Victors' Crown, his skills in this area must not be great, as he has failed to bring home a single winner for as long as I've been alive and even before.

There is a roar from further down below, and Madge suddenly clutches my arm. "Oh, Katty, look! Peeta is up!"

My heart pitters and stutters weirdly as I can see the small speck that is my dear friend, coming into the ring. His opponent looks to be at least his size, maybe even one-and-a-half times his size. And apparently, Peeta and this kid are the same age, in the same weight class!

The referee stands between the boys. "Ready….. set… FIGHT!"

Peeta and his opponent ram together, the opponent flipping my friend over his head. Peeta hits the mat hard, and there are groans. Now I'm the one clutching at Madge's arm, biting my lip in fear.

Peeta quickly gets up and launches himself at his opponent from behind. I am biting my lip so hard now, I am drawing a bead of blood. Beside me, Madge has to nearly scream in my ear:

"Katty…. KATNISS! OW! Let go!"

"Oh….. S-sorry," I stammer, releasing her arm from where I was probably cutting off her circulation.

She just grins at me. "It's OK to be nervous, you know."

As we watch, Peeta actually manages to pin an opponent who's bigger than him. The crowd begins to chant. "8….. 9….. 10!"

"WINNNER!" The ref nudges both boys apart and lifts Peeta's fist triumphantly on high. Madge and I actually applaud with gusto and I even whoop happily, beaming down at Peeta with pride.

Back and forth all afternoon it goes on like this. Peeta actually wins his weight class…. then he starts winning against bigger, older kids in other weight classes. People are by now chanting his name. Finally, the scoreboard flashes the last name MELLARK on either side as we come down to two finalists: Peeta against his older brother, Rye, a year ahead of him.

The ref gives the signal for the two brothers to do battle. "Ready….. set… FIGHT!"

The match is long and drawn out, with neither brother giving an inch. Until, finally, Rye pins Peeta in a chokehold and keeps him there. Peeta struggles bravely, but he can't get loose.

I tremble. "I can't watch…." And I bury my face into Madge's shoulder. The crowd chants bloodthirstily.

"8!…9!…. 10!"

"Game, set, match!" The ref hollers, and he lifts Rye's fists on high. "Winner! : Rye Mellark! Runner-up: Peeta Mellark! New record!"

Second place! Peeta got second place in all the weight classes! More than that, he broke a school record – the youngest person to get runner-up in school history!

Madge and I are squealing and jumping up and down. We stop abruptly, staring at each other, and then start squealing again and hugging.

"Katty?" She draws back, studying me with bemusement. "What's gotten into you?"

All I can lamely say is, "Nothing. Just…. it's the heat."