CHAPTER 8

One week to go.

I have been keeping track of the days on my calendar, as Reed suggested. I still don't really see the point of the thing since Fesh reminds us all every few minutes what today brings. And what tomorrow brings. And what the day after that brings. But I cross off each day with a fancy pen I found on my wardrobe, counting how many days I have before…

It has been busy lately. Very. Over the last two weeks, I have been in the Training Centre for nine hours a day. I've learnt a lot of things there, too. Some of them I probably won't use in the Games, but would be very useful at home. Too bad I won't be seeing home again. I can now tie eleven new knots, lift weights that I couldn't three weeks ago and hit a plastic dummy with an arrow. I can also set traps and I've learnt survival skills which is all I'm really going to need. If I survive, I keep living. Simple as. And nobody can kill me if I survive.

It's not very good logic, but it's the only logic I have.

After my first breakfast in the Training Centre, Reed waited until everybody else had left and then pulled me aside. He put my arm in a sling and gave me a small smile as I left. He didn't say a word. My arm has nearly healed now, he says. He told me yesterday that it wasn't a break, just a sprain. He sounded reassuring so I took it as good news. It doesn't hurt half so much now, either.

Last week, we had the first interviews. Had was right: my costume was much better. It was a tiny white fairy dress which even had wings. It was dainty and pretty and it made me feel as light as a feather. I have to admit, if it had of been any other colour (after so much time in these blindingly light rooms I have come to hate the colour) I would have almost enjoyed wearing it. I'm not entirely sure how it fitted in with my strategy but Had assured me that nothing could be more perfect.

It was so nerve wracking, standing out there with every eye in Panem staring at me for sure. There was even a live audience. I was terrified when I went out and I sat down, my legs like jelly. But somehow Ceaser, the interviewer calmed me down. He always said the right thing. I watched him with the other tributes and he seemed all right. He prompted them if they got stuck, or changed the subject entirely if they looked awkward. The boy from District 4 seemed to be trying to play the clown and he told dreadful jokes. But Ceaser laughed politely at all of them. But when I sat down, he just spoke so warmly and said just what I was hoping he would say. When he asked me what my strengths were I told him straight away.

'I'm hard to catch I said slyly, 'And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me.'

The other tributes tittered at that and I heard Marvel mutter that he wouldn't bet on that. I hate Career's. But they've been eyeing me up since the scores came in from our private training sessions. All of them got a little higher than me except the girl from District 4, but when my 7 came flashing up on the screen, they all gaped at me. They were probably expecting a four at the most. But they don't know what I showed them. They don't know what I can do…

I wasn't they only one they gaped at, though. Katniss from District 12 got an 11. They weren't the only ones looking completely bewildered; I was to. I can't say how much I admire her.

Katniss was admired again in the interviews. But not just by me, or the Career's or even all the Tributes. By the whole of Panem, for sure. It was because of what she was wearing. Fire. Literally. After I missed her in the parade, I was determined to see her again and work out what the fuss was about. Now I know. Her dress was covered in jewels that engulfed her in fire the moment she moved. And when she spun for the audience I was in awe. Literally. And when she went to sit down, still engulfed in the flames, she didn't sit down roughly like I thought she would. How we sit in District 11 and 12 (by assumption.) She didn't flop on to the chair or stumble on her heels. She was like a lady. I'm beginning to wonder if District 12 is better than imagined.

I was supposed to spend 4 hours with Fesh before the interviews, learning how to act like that, but she gave up half way through. Then I went to Reed who was supposed to coach me on the interview itself. What he said was pretty predictable: play the girl. The small one, the weak one – and so on. That was supposed to take 4 hours as well but he let me go after ten minutes saying there was 'no more he could say.'

So now I lay here, in my bed. Early morning. Counting down the days. 10, 9, 8, 7…

Thresh hasn't spoken to me for thirteen days. I've been counting. I count everything now.