I thought Haymitch might forget

The thing about Haymitch is that he's a lot smarter than you would expect of a drunk like him. I really don't expect him to remember anything about the day before when I had helped him clean off after he fell into his own vomit.

"So what's your deal, kid?" asks Haymitch as he sits himself across from me at the breakfast table. I look up to find my mentor pouring himself a glass of some kind of spirit for breakfast. At the end of the table Effie is frowning.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Haymitch," says Effie sternly. Haymitch ignores her.

"Come on. With the girl?" I shrug and return to my breakfast. There's some rolls in the center of the table, nice and fluffy. I take a couple, quickly biting into one to avoid having to answer Haymitch's questions. Even sweeter and fluffier than what we make at home. I don't imagine that's hard to do with the type of products the Capitol has the chance to use in their food.

"Haymitch," Effie says again, standing up now. "Don't you dare." Haymitch raises his glass to her and shakes it around, chuckling. "You are going to embarrass us all again."

"Can't help it. It's the only thing that makes you look better." I raise my eyebrows and look over at Effie, who looks completely taken aback by this latest remark. "So what is it, then?" asks Haymitch, turning back to me. Beside him Effie continues to splutter. "Do you like her?" He lowers his glass and peers at me.

"I can't believe you just said that to me!" Effie manages, completely ignoring me, which is all for the best, really.

"Well, have you looked in a mirror lately? Don't answer that." Haymitch takes a sip of his drink and Effie huffs off with her nose in the air. I try to shield my face with one of my rolls as I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. This is all just too much for me.

Then Katniss walks in.

I really hope she didn't hear that last conversation.


As we reach the Capitol I'm watching Katniss out of the corner of my eye. She doesn't look happy…Or hopeful is what I mean. No one is happy around here. Well, except maybe Effie. I return my attention to the crowd outside our train. Smiling. Waving. I return the greetings as cheerfully as I can, and it's a little hard not to be amazed and impressed by the Capitol outside our window. Katniss, I can tell, is not nearly as enthusiastic.

We're rushed through the crowds to another building where Katniss and I are split up. The Remake Center. Before meeting with my stylist, I'm bathed, combed, shaved, and some other number of things I can't identify are done to me. When the prep team is done with me, a tall woman with her hair sticking out in wide, bright curls strolls in. This is my stylist, Portia. Despite the odd hair, and some strange color on her face (a bright bluish color on her lips and eyes), she seems relatively normal for a Capitol citizen.

"Hello there, Peeta." I swallow uncomfortably as Portia walks closer, examining my naked body. My fault, really. There was a robe, but it barely got worn when the prep team was at work so I didn't bother trying to wear it again. I try to remind myself that it could always be worse, though I'm now sure how. "I'm Portia."

"I figured that." It comes out a little harsher than I had intended, but Portia just smiles. Her teeth are unusually white. I'm not sure if she's had work done or if the Capitol just has better toothpaste. Or both.

"You can sit up if you want." I do. It's cold. And then Portia sits next to me, which makes me even more uncomfortable. Hoping she won't notice, I lay my hands on my lap. "I'm sure you're aware of how the parade works, am I right?" I nod. Every year the tributes are loaded into chariots dressed in the most ridiculous and attention-grabbing costumes the stylists can come up with. Every year the District 12 tributes are coal miners. Could be worse. "Cinna and I thought we'd do something a little different this year."

"What do you mean?"

"How do you feel about fire?"