CHAPTER 8

"First step to getting sponsors," Haymitch said, back at our floor. We were seated at the dining table. Someone had come in to change the tables and chairs since breakfast, as the glass top table and white chairs had been replaced with equally lavish furniture of carefully carved chairs and a dark-polished hardwood table. The knowledge of it made me shift uncomfortably, to think that this kind of change can be done so quietly, without notice. "Is something you already know."

I stared at him stubbornly. "Tell me."

"Get the Capitolites to notice you," Haymitch told me, as he was pouring himself a glass, which I was staring straight at, rather than looking at him. "You already got that done, volunteering for your sister, your fiery entrance and your mysteriousness."

I looked at him in surprise, frowning at him in question. Haymitch snorted. "That's the angle Cinna and Effie decided to use for you, a mysterious girl who's stirring up some storm, a girl who has a trick up her sleeve."

I stared at him, willing myself not to give anything away. "What about the second?"

"Get them to like you," Haymitch shrugged, then looked at me over his glass of golden liquor. "Or just get them to root for you."

"Third?" I asked as I wondered how I'll get the Capitol to root for me. I looked at my hands, eyes catching the fabric of the navy jacket I wore, lips curving into a smile. The jumpsuit that I wore at the Tribute parade, lit up in yellows, golds, oranges and reds, with smoke trailing from behind came to my mind, the upcoming gala coming right after.

"Oh the third is the hardest," Haymitch drawled, his Seam accent pouring out. "Playing along to their games."

I frowned, confused. "What games? Aren't we already in the Hunger Games? What other games are you talking about?"

"The games of the Capitol, Sweetheart," he replied with his lips curling into an angry sneer. His eyes flashed with a quiet fury that spoke of rebellion and defiance. "They like their Hunger Games, and their games. The games they like to play with us Tributes and Victors."

"What games?" I repeated, crossing my arms.

Haymitch glanced at me. "Got any plans for your sponsor problem?"

"None," I answered. It wasn't really a lie. I only had ideas, not plans. "Got anything else?"

"'Fraid that's it Sweetheart, can't tell you more unless I want my plans to be used against me," Haymitch chuckled. Then Haymitch's eyes sharpened. "Of course, if you and I are allies, I'd happily let it slip a couple more…"

"Will you stop bothering me about this?"

Before Haymitch could answer, the sound of the doors of our suite sliding open resonated over to the dining room. Haymitch quickly got up and exited. I followed him, wondering who it was, and was surprised to see Cinna, Effie and Portia, quietly chatting amongst themselves.

"Effie!" Haymitch called out loudly, plopping himself on the couch. "Had a good time?"

Effie sniffed, "Yes. Good news are, that our schedules are finished." She stalked over another couch next to Haymitch's and sat down, making a gesture for Portia, Cinna and I to do the same. "The two of you will be having your fitting tomorrow, Cinna and Portia had already come up with the designs for the gala."

"The gala will be held in a week," Cinna continued, breaking the awkward science that had prevailed after Effie was finished. "Katnias, you'll be going for your fitting in two days."

"Haymitch will take his fitting the day before," Portia said. "Since we have some things to go over about the design."

"What about me?" I asked curiously. It was strange that whilst Haymitch was going to pick his own design for his suit, or at least had some liberty over the design, I would have no control over the design.

Cinna, however, smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, you'd love the design I made."

I had no doubts about that. Cinna was undoubtedly someone I could really trust. At least, he was the person that I could trust the most in the Capitol.

"Well enough of the talk about designs, as interesting and undoubtedly amazing as it is," Effie sighed. Then she faced Haymitch and I. "What are the two of you doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be at the Training Center?"

It hit me how normal Effie sounded now, and she must've noticed it, as she quickly cleared her throat. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get to the Training Center now, up and away!"

"And get harassed by the Careers?" Haymitch snorted. "No thanks, Effie, I'd rather stay here. Besides, Things are not as much as a bitch here.

"Well, then at least Katniss should go," Effie sniffed. "Katniss deary, please get on with it. I won't have my tribute be the first to die on my first Quell! At least build up some muscles so you can run!"

I brewed over mine and Haymitch's conversation about sponsors, and wondered how willing he would be to let slip a few more bits and pieces of information. "Actually," I said, gaining Effie's attention. "Haymitch and I were talking about making a pact in the games."

Haymitch raises an eyebrow, and so did Cinna and Portia.

"Oh?" Cinna questioned. "You weren't very agreeing about a pact yesterday, much less an alliance. What's up with the change?"

Haymitch thankfully played along, weaving a story that undoubtedly spun in his favor. "Sweetheart here was just sentimental, thinking about how sad it would be if District Twelve's tributes killed themselves the moment the Games started. So we decided on a semi-alliance pact."

"A semi-alliance pact," Cinna repeated dubiously, eyes shifting between Haymitch and I, searching for something that was hopefully concealed by neutral expressions.

"A semi-alliance pact," I confirmed. "We'd be just like another alliance, except we won't be with each other."

"And you're sure you won't kill each other, dear?" Effie questioned. Then jumped at my glare. "Well, you and Haymitch seem to be adversaries, that's all. I'm just being cautious."

"I won't kill Haymitch," I promised, then paused, reconsidering my words. "Unless he tries to kill me, or we somehow make it to the Final Two." Haymitch's displeased grunt told me that I had mostly achieved in moving the deal to my side, even if unknowingly. Feeling slightly more confident, I added, "We'll share resources, when we can, and try to help each other."

Cinna nodded slowly, "And that's it?"

Haymitch glanced at me, "Course not, Cinna. What, you think I'm that much of an idiot to just leave it at that? We're supposed to polish things over, get our game plan and all that shit, but you three interrupted us."

Cinna turned to be at that, "Well then, if you're willing to go through that pact with Haymitch, then you should just follow the plan we had laid out from the beginning, which we made for the inclusion of the District Twelve female's inclusion."

I leaned back, "Alright. What is it?" I was eager to hear what they had originally planned, and whether or not it was even worth using.

"Don't be so hasty, Sweetheart," Haymitch said, breaking me from my thoughts. "First, you're going to tell us what exactly you have up your sleeve. Maybe extend on that little knife trick of yours."

"Knife trick?" Cinna repeated in surprise, as if he had yet to be informed of the incident. I jerked back in shock. I hadn't given much thought into the incident, other than the fact that it placed a slight damper into my plans, but I expected that Effie would've already told Cinna about what had happened. Apparently, I was wrong.

"Peeta was right," Haymitch said. It was one of the few times that the subject of Peeta Mellark was brought up. "She's a little fire. The girl's got some spunk in her."

"And I thought," I said slowly, "That I had no spunk in me whatsoever." That's what he said on the train, and apparently, judging by recent memory, I wasn't completely right.

"You can survive," Haymitch admitted. "Now. Knife trick."

"You're not my mentor," I responded petulantly, and no doubt childishly. "Why don't Effie —or better yet, Cinna— handle that?"

"I'm the one who can get you out alive, Sweetheart," Haymitch growled. "So. Knife trick."

I quickly glanced at my surroundings, which were all priceless Capitol artifacts that I wasn't sure I was even allowed to touch. But then again, I don't really care, do I? If I'm going to die for the amusement of a couple of useless, overly colorful and insane Capitolites, then I might as well destroy some of their stuff, should I? Instead of quickly agreeing however, I diverted Haymitch's command, "I don't see any knives here. Or any targets."

Cinna tapped a button on the coffee table, and an Avox walked over, looking unbearably familiar. The distant memory of a boy and a girl flashed in her mind, a harpoon in the chest, blood spraying and a net dropping, the girl screaming for help. I was startled, jumping up without thinking, and jumping my knee on the table in the process.

"Katniss, dearie," Effie said in an unbearable squeak. "Are you alright?"

I glanced at the Avox and shook my head. "I'm fine. I just thought something bit my leg." I forced a smile from my lips. "Nothing bad." I sat back down, watching as Cinna had the Avox retrieve a knife. The Avox returned with a shiny silver blade.

I held it experimentally in my hands testing its weight whilst noting features that weren't noticeable from faraway, the handle made of leather. Unlike the worn ones back home however, this knife was brand new, blade sharp and pointed and leather new and unworn.

"Left eye of that portrait," I said, pointing to a large painting of a man with stark white hair, against a brown background, wearing a suit. I flicked my wrist, the knife landed in the eye I intended, a bit off-center. I would not have achieved this, had the painting been any smaller. I was lucky, with how large the painting is, that the eye had been the size of my fist maybe.

Cinna leaned back, and relaxed. "Good. Your weapon is good. There's almost always knives in the Games. You're practically assured to have a knife in the Arena."

I was tempted to ask, 'What about a bow?' but kept quiet, allowing Cinna to continue.

"Both of you will grab the three things closest to you, plus a weapon," Cinna explained. His eyes flashed, staring at both of us critically. "Preferably, you would pick up a weapon too, if it's close enough to you."

I nodded. "Should we make a designated meeting point?"

"No," Haymitch denied. "If the Careers find out, especially that new kid, Cato, they'd find us and kill us. You don't want to be killed, do you, Sweetheart?"

"No," I answered. "I don't want to get killed. What am I going to do then?"

"You," Haymitch said, commandingly, "Have a simple job: survive. I will stay with my allies."

In curiosity, I asked, "You know, you never told me, why exactly you're so adamant on having me survive."

Haymitch snorted as a response. "I'm an old man, Sweetheart." A lie. Haymitch is in his early-forties, at best and mid-forties, at worst. There are other Victor-Tributes, like Brutus, who would be about the same age as him, with a few like Woof who would be older than him. He has next to nothing to worry about, other than his physique and notable alcohol addiction, to worry about. "And I'd like to see a District Twelve tribute win before I die." He made a dramatic pause, as if acting for an audience that I didn't know was there. "Or at least have the knowledge that a District Twelve tribute is getting close to winning."

Despite the answer being very logical, and believable, I had the feeling that it wasn't the truth— or at least, it wasn't the complete truth.

"Anything else you want to add to your speech?" I asked.

"Yeah," said Haymitch, "Stay away from the Careers. Don't punch Finny Boy, Annie, Johanna and the rest of my allies. Easy things to do, right, Sweetheart?"

I clenched my teeth. "Yeah. I can do that."

Cinna stood up. "Well, you two can talk this over tomorrow." He glanced at Effie, clearly trying to be discreet. "In the meantime, do feel free to head back to the Training Center, your absence has been noticed."