A/N: Thank you guys so much for all of the reviews, favorites, and alerts! You. Are. Awesome. I am beyond thrilled that you guys like my new dynamic between Peeta and Katniss (big sigh of relief).

See? This A/N is soooo much shorter than it's predecessor!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. They're just my puppet pals for a while.

Chapter 2

When the anthem ends, a group of Peacekeepers approach us to lead us into the Justice Building. It is only when they begin to separate us do I realize that I'm still clutching Peeta's hand like a lifeline. Immediately, I drop it like it burnt me and walk a little faster. The Peacekeepers don't seem to mind my change of pace and propel me forward. I try not to think about the flash of hurt I saw in Peeta's eyes when I dropped his hand like it was poison.

The Peacekeepers escort me to a room, a holding area. I'm pushed none too gently into the middle of the room and the door slams behind me. I take in my surroundings, a habit of every hunter worth their salt. The room may be small, but it is the richest I have ever seen. My feet are sinking into the deep, plush carpet. A single loveseat sits in the middle of the room, and I sit down on it. Immediately, I recognize the feel of the material. Velvet. The only reason I know this is because the collar of one of my mother's dresses is made of the soft fabric. Almost in a daze, I run my fingers over it, feeling the fuzzy texture under my fingertips. It has an odd calming effect. I hold onto the peace that I've been able to find because I know that I'll need it. I have to be strong because the next hour will be the time allotted to me to say good-bye to my loved ones.

The door is suddenly thrown open and all I see is a blur of blonde hair before Prim's skinny arms are flung around my neck. She climbs into my lap and rests her head on my shoulder, clinging to me like she did when she was younger. The action almost brings tears to my eyes, but I hold them back. I can't cry now. They'll think I've given up, and I can't let them think that . . . even if it's true.

The truth is that I really don't have a shot at winning these games. Tributes from the richer districts, like 1, 2, and 4 actually train for the Games. The boys will be two or three times my size. The girls will know twenty different ways to kill me with a single knife. What chance do I stand against those odds? I can shoot a bow. I throw knives decently. But I don't have the strength. I don't have the skill. I don't have the bloodlust that seems essential to winning the Games.

But I have to be strong. For Prim.

My mother joins us on the couch, her arms enveloping Prim and me. We stay like that for a few minutes before I get my head in gear. I begin telling them all that they need to know. I tell them how to survive. The first thing out of my mouth is the most important. Prim will not sign up for tesserae. I stare into my mother's eyes when I say this, trying to get her to understand that this rule cannot be broken. Prim can make enough money selling milk and cheese from her goat. I tell them that Gale will give them fresh game. He and I came to this agreement a year ago if either of us were ever chosen. I know that Gale probably won't take anything in return, but I tell Prim and my mother to at least give him some milk or medicine.

Finally, I turn to my mother. "You can't leave again, do you understand?" I can't have her falling into that inescapable sadness again. I won't be there to fend for Prim. I won't be there to protect her.

"I know. I won't."

"You stay strong." I order. She has to understand. "You can't fall apart. I won't be here to keep you alive." I know that she knows that when I say you, I really mean Prim.

"I know," my mother repeats. "I won't."

When I've run out of things to say, Prim finally speaks. She looks up at me, her big blue eyes still teary, but she looks so earnest. "I'll be alright, Katniss," she tells me. "But you be alright, too. You're so fast and brave. Maybe you can win."

I don't have the heart to tell her that I won't win, but I am a fighter. I'm not going to roll over and accept my death. No, I'll fight to the end. This is what prompts me to say, "Maybe."

"I just want you to come home." Prim's eyes begin to water and her hold on me tightens. "You'll try, won't you?" she asks. "You'll really, really try?"

I've never been able to deny Prim anything, and it's this fact that causes me to answer honestly. "I'll try." I will try to win. For Prim.

"Promise?"

I try to smile, and I think I manage it. "Promise."

The door is opened then and the Peacekeepers tell us that our time is up. They begin to escort my mother and Prim out and I'm suddenly talking faster than I ever have before. "I love you! I love you both!" I say it over and over and they repeat it back to me. The moment the door shuts, it's far too quiet in the room and I don't like it. I don't like the thought that this could be the last time I ever see them again. I close my eyes and hold onto their faces in my mind. I try and memorize them so completely that I'll never forget a single detail.

I'm startled when I hear the door open once more. I'm even more surprised when I see who my new visitor is. Mr. Mellark. Peeta's father. We're both quiet. I think he's just as surprised that he's here as I am. He hands me a brown paper bag, and I'm familiar enough with those bags that I know the goodies that it contains. I take the bag and open it. Just as I thought. Frosted cookies.

Peeta may have inherited his father's kindness, but I had no idea where he had gotten his penchant for words because Mr. Mellark is a very quiet person. Kind of like me. We are people of few words. If we say something it is because it needs to be said. Otherwise we are both content to say nothing at all.

I'm tempted to ask him if he's seen Peeta already. I would assume he has. They seem to be very close, as far as I've been able to tell. I wonder where Peeta's brothers are too. Peeta is the youngest of three. One brother, the oldest, Chris, is nineteen or twenty, I think. He got married last year. However, Rye, the second oldest, is eighteen. He could have volunteered to take Peeta's place, like I had for Prim. He didn't. I guess family loyalty only went so far. But then again, I know that Peeta wouldn't want to see anyone die in his place.

The Peacekeeper that seems to be guarding the door steps into the room and tells us that our time is up. Mr. Mellark looks at me then and says, "I'll look out for the girl, make sure she's eating."

A weight is lifted off my shoulders as I realize that I have one more person looking out for Prim. "Thank you," I tell him with as much sincerity as I can.

He nods and leaves the room. However, he's not gone for ten seconds before Madge steps into the room. She doesn't waste time. She comes right up to me, and I notice that she has something in her hand. It's her gold pin. It's circular and inside the circle is a bird. She wears it every reaping day, but she's never mentioned it and so neither have I.

"Will you wear this?" she asks.

I stare at her blankly and she continues. "You're allowed to bring a token. To remind you of your district," she explains. I haven't even thought about a token. "Will you wear it?"

I nod and she quickly pins it onto my dress. It's then that I notice what kind of bird is shown in the pin. It's a mockingjay.

Back in the Dark Days, during the rebellion, the Capitol got creative. They would genetically enhance many species of animals, called muttations, or mutts for short. One of these anomalies was the jabberjay. A jabberjay had the ability to listen and record whole conversations between people and then repeat them back. They would fly back to the Capitol, repeat what they had heard from the rebels and then be sent back out to procure more information. Of course, eventually the rebels figured it out and then the joke was on the Capitol. The rebels fed the birds lies, and the Capitol quickly disbanded their use. They set the jabberjays free, thinking that they would die in the forest.

They didn't. In fact, the male jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds. The result was the mockingjay, a bird that could repeat any melody, whether human or bird. My father had been fond of mockingjays, and they, in turn, were fond of him. Anytime my father would sing, the mockingjays would respectfully fall silent. Once my father was done with his song, they would sing it back to him—every single verse. My father's voice was that beautiful—high and strong. Full of life and love.

I'm suddenly extremely grateful for this pin. It's like I have a piece of my father with me, protecting me as he always did.

"Thank you," I say. I'm being showered with gifts today. Cookies from Mr. Mellark, and now a pin from Madge. I didn't realize I was so popular.

Madge gives me a serious look. "You can win," she tells me. "I know you can."

Before I can reply, she kisses my cheek and then flounces out the door. I realize that Madge has really been my friend after all.

When my door opens again, I look up curiously. Who else would come? But when I see that it's Gale, I mentally scold myself for overlooking him. Of course he would come. When he simply holds out his arms to me, I don't hesitate to run into them. Gale is the one person with whom I've always been able to be myself around. We're so comfortable with each other, and I know that he understands me. So when I feel tears begin to prick in my eyes, I don't try so hard to bat them back.

Gale pulls back to look at me, holding me by my shoulders. His grey eyes are fervent and serious. "Listen," he says. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's you weapon."

I frown. "They don't always have bows."

It's true. One year the only weapons available were sharp, spiky, metal maces. We watched the tributes bludgeon each other to death.

"Then make one."

My frown deepens. Crafting a bow is tricky business and the times I've tried, they haven't turned out well. As if he knows what I'm thinking, Gale says, "A weak bow is better than no bow."

He takes a deep breath. "Listen Katniss, you've got a shot at winning this, alright? You're smart. You're quick. You're a hunter. You've killed before. This is no different."

"Yes it is," I argue. "I've killed animals, Gale. Not people."

"How different can it be?" Gale reiterates and a sick feeling develops in my stomach as I realize the truth of his words. If I can forget that they're human, it will be no different at all.

The Peacekeeper enters the room, and I know our time is up. Like with Prim and my mother, suddenly I'm almost frantic. "Don't let them starve!" I cry.

"I won't!" Gale promises as he clings to my hand, even though the Peacekeeper is pulling him back. "You know I won't! Remember Katniss, I—"

The door slams shut. I'll never know what he wanted me to remember. The thing is, I realize that it doesn't really matter. When that door shut, closing Gale off to me, I got the feeling that the action was much more metaphorical than literal. My life as I know it is over. Gale, Prim, my mother, hunting in the woods. . .all that is behind me and I am being thrown into an unknown world, completely blindfolded and terrified.

When the visiting hour is up, the Peacekeepers come in and escort me to a waiting car outside. Cameras flash repeatedly, almost blinding me, but I ignore them. I school my features into a blank mask and I'm very proud when I look up on one of the big screens and see that I almost look bored. Fantastic. I climb into the car to find that Peeta is already there in the backseat. When the car moves forward I'm momentarily struck by the sensation. I've never been in a car and have only ridden in a wagon a handful of times. I've always walked to wherever I needed to be.

I glance over at Peeta and see tear stains on his cheeks. He doesn't bother to hide them and it makes me wonder. Is this part of a strategy? To pretend to be weak and sniveling? It's worked before, particularly well for Johanna Mason from District 7. She played the part so well that everyone left her alone and then when there were only a few tributes left she morphed into a vicious killer. I look at Peeta again. I can't see how this strategy would work for him. He's simply too big, too strong to pull it off. That, and I know Peeta is smarter than to think that such a strategy would work for him. Peeta is a thinker, I know. This thought makes me uneasy. Smarts is a dangerous weapon.

We pull up to the train station and are hustled out of the car and onto the train. Once the doors shut the train takes off, and I'm unprepared for the sudden burst of motion. I stumble and then feel a pair of large, warm hands at my waist, steadying me. I jerk away and get my footing on my own before I turn to look at Peeta.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know," he tells me so softly that I barely hear him. "You know me better than that."

I'm chagrinned because he's right. I do know him. I open my mouth to say something, but I'm cut off by Effie Trinket, who begins blabbing about the Capitol and how great it is as she leads us to our separate rooms. As we pass through the train, I take it all in. The train is much more extravagant than the room in the Justice Building. Everything seems to glow or sparkle or shine. All the fabric I see, curtains, carpets, tablecloths—I can almost smell the finery. It causes me to crinkle my nose.

My room consists of a bedroom and my own bathroom. Effie explains to me that everything is at my disposal, that I can do whatever I want. The dressers are stuffed with clothes just for me; I can wear whatever I like. I'm on my own free time until an hour from now when I'm supposed to go to the dining car for supper.

The first thing I do the moment Effie leaves is strip off my mother's blue dress and lay it on the bed. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the water in the shower. Hot water. We don't have hot water at home unless we boil it. The shower feels amazing. It's like I'm standing in the rain, though the water is warm. I experiment with the shampoos provided and find one that smells like vanilla. I've only ever smelt the aroma once before, but it's my favorite scent, aside from the freshness of the woods.

I probably stay in the shower too long, but the allure of hot running water causes me to stay under the spray. Eventually I step out and dry off. I find a pair of plain black pants and a forest green shirt in the dressers and pull them on. I towel dry my hair, but I don't braid it. The intricate braid my mother had put my hair up in had given me a headache, so I let it hang loose to my waist. I'm about to leave for the dining car when a glint of gold catches my eye. I recognize it as Madge's mockingjay pin, and I quickly take it up and pin it to my shirt. Against the dark green of my shirt, I could almost think that the bird was flying through the forest.

I meet Effie in the hallway on my way to the dining car and she escorts me the rest of the way. When we enter I see that it is just Peeta sitting at the table. The moment I walk in, his eyes come up to meet mine in that odd way of his. It kind of makes me uneasy how he always seems to know when I'm in the room. But then again, Peeta in general makes me uneasy so I don't let it worry me too much.

I take the seat next to him, and his eyes have yet to leave me. He's looking at me oddly, his mouth slightly open. "What?" I snap, a little more harshly than I'd intended.

A hint of a smile plays at Peeta's lips. "Your hair is down."

And?

He takes my silence as puzzlement, which I suppose I am.

"It looks nice," he compliments.

A warmth spreads across my cheeks and to my horror I realize it's a blush. Since when do I blush? When? Never. Until now. Just one more reason for me to feel uneasy about Peeta Mellark.

"Thanks," I say as I look down at my empty plate. I resolve to never wear my hair down in front of him again.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks as she takes her seat.

Peeta shrugs. "Last time I saw him he said something about taking a nap."

"Well it's been an exhausting day," Effie says as if this makes sense.

The supper comes in courses. A rich soup. Salad. Lamb chops and mashed potatoes. Rolls abound. Fruit. Cheese. Chocolate cake. I'm stuffing my face, and I see that Peeta is doing the same. It's the richest food I've ever eaten, and I can't stop myself from shoveling it into my mouth.

"Well, at least you two have decent manners," Effie comments as we're about half way through the meal. "Last year they ate like animals, completely ignoring the silverware!" she says this as if it was one of the worst things her eyes have ever seen.

Last year's tributes were a pair of kids from the Seam who had never had enough to eat in their entire life. Of course they would have attacked this food. Table manners were far from their mind. Peeta's the son of a baker. My mother taught Prim and me to eat properly, so yes, I knew how to wield a fork. I silently fume the rest of the meal. Eventually, my ire at her comment overwhelms me, and I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. When I'm done I wipe them on the tablecloth.

Effie purses her lips in distaste, but I see a small smile at my actions from Peeta.

I feel a hint of camaraderie budding between myself and Peeta and immediately squash it. We were about to enter the Games. Camaraderie isn't going to help me win. It would hinder me. I can't have that. I have to keep my promise to Prim.

Once the meal is over I start to feel sick. The richness of the food, combined with the amount I ate, isn't sitting well with my stomach that's hardly used to being full, let alone stuffed. Peeta is looking a little green too. I'm determined not to throw up though. If I can keep down Greasy Sae's more . . . creative . . . concoctions, then I can keep this down too.

Effie leads us over to the couch to watch the reapings from the other districts, and I'm surprised when Haymitch comes stumbling in. It looks like even with the nap, he's still drunk enough to be unable to walk a straight line. I shudder at the amount of liquor required to make him that intoxicated.

I sit down next to Peeta on the couch, though I make sure to leave lots of space between us. However, this plan is shot to hell when Haymitch collapses onto the couch on my other side. I choose the lesser of two evils and scoot closer to Peeta, getting as far away from Haymitch and the stench of white liquor and pour hygiene as possible.

I catalogue every tribute that I see. The reapings from 1 and 2 are extremely chaotic as everyone wants to volunteer. The kids from these districts think it's an honor to be chosen, and they fight for the right to represent their district. Eventually the District 1 tributes are chosen, but my focus is on District 2. A giant hulk of a boy practically runs up on the stage, and I know that he's trouble. He's simply too eager. I can tell that he's one of those who relishes killing. I can also tell that Peeta sees this too, because I feel him tense beside me. The reapings continue and there aren't that many tributes that I really take note of. There's a fox-faced girl from 5 who looks sly. She's a wild card. I take note of a crippled tribute from 10. The tributes from 11 stick out to me. The male tribute is even bigger than the District 2 tribute and he simply looks menacing. In perfect contrast is the girl tribute. She's twelve, a tiny thing. Curly brown hair and dark skin. Her demeanor and overall aura reminds me so much of Prim that my heart clenches.

Finally, they get to District 12. I see Prim's name being called and then suddenly I'm filling the screen, screaming that I volunteer. The desperation in my voice is plain. I watch as I'm led up on the stage and then Effie calls Peeta's name. What shocks me is the look on my face when I hear Peeta's name called. I hadn't thought I'd had much of a reaction but as I watch the screen I realize that I look. . .worried? Fearful?

Dread. That's my expression. Dread. Dread of facing Peeta Mellark in the arena.

I'm shocked at how quickly my eyes find him in the crowd and then how they never leave him. I've never seen such a complicated twist of emotion on my face. Peeta and I face each other, and we don't look anywhere other than the other's eyes. It makes us look like something we're not. It makes us look like we care for each other . . . in that way. In the way my mother cared for my father. In the way that my father cared for her in return.

What sinks the metaphorical ship is when we shake hands and don't let go. We turn to face the crowd as the anthem plays, hands grasped tightly, presenting a united front. I'm brought out of my thoughts when the commentator's speaking.

"Look at that!" one says, a male. "I wonder if they know each other."

His female co-commentator immediately pipes up. "Of course they do! Can't you see the way they're looking at each other? I'd say that they're more than friends!"

"It'll sure be interesting to see how this works out!" the male says. "Especially—"

The TV cuts to black and I see that Haymitch is the one who turned it off. He barks at Effie to leave, and she begins to protest, but Haymitch won't have any of it. "I'm the mentor, aren't I?" he asks as he shoves her out the door. "Go count your shoes!"

Once Effie is gone he turns back to us, looking surprisingly sober and serious. "Alright, you two, let's have it," he says.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" he repeats. He points to the TV and I know what he's referring to. "That's what I mean? What are you two? Friends? Lovers? What?"

"We're nothing!" I blurt out before I can stop myself. Idiotically, I look at Peeta and see the hurt on his face. Why am I always hurting him? "I-I mean. . ." I don't know what to say. "We're . . . I'm . . . we're just . . . something!" I finally give in, tossing my hands up in the air. I didn't realize I'd jumped to my feet until they started moving toward the door. "I-I've got to go," I stutter before I flee from the compartment.

That night as I lay in the too comfortable Capitol bed, I try to sleep. The effort is proving to be futile. I couldn't get Haymitch's words out of my head. What were Peeta and I? Friends? Were we friends? I only had two friends, Madge and Gale, and I definitely didn't feel for Peeta anything remotely similar to what I felt for Madge, let alone Gale. What defined being friends anyway? I know that the other girls at school would probably define friendship as sharing your darkest secrets and talking about boys. Madge and I hardly talked, let alone share our secrets or talk about boys. And Gale. I was closer to Gale than I was with anyone other than Prim. I did share secrets with Gale, but I could never imagine talking to him about boys. Somehow I got the feeling that it wouldn't have gone over well. That, and the fact that me talking about boys would be pointless and a waste of breath. I didn't want a relationship. Relationships led to marriage and marriage led to kids. I didn't want that.

But I had to admit that I had a connection, one that baffled me profusely, to Peeta Mellark. It was the bread. It always went back to the bread. He'd saved my life. He'd taken care of me when no one else did, just by giving me that bread. I felt something for Peeta Mellark. It was undeniable.

I just had no idea what it was.

There is a clock next to my bed on a nightstand, and I see that it reads two o' clock in the morning. The bed suddenly feels confining, and I toss off the covers and grab the soft, fuzzy bathrobe that is hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I slide into some shoes that feel more like socks and step out into the hallway. Technically, according to Effie, we're supposed to stay in our rooms until she comes to get us the next morning, but I've never really been one for rules so I didn't pay her any mind.

I make my way towards the dining car since it's the only other compartment that I know of aside from my own. The moment I walk through the door I feel his eyes on me. I look to my left and see Peeta, clad in a pair of loose-fitting grey pants and a thin, white t-shirt. He's sitting on a padded bench along a window. It's like a little alcove, and his back is resting against the small wall behind him while his legs are stretched out across the rest of the bench. His arms are crossed over his chest, and I can't help but notice the definition of his muscles, the thinness of his shirt doing nothing to hide them.

We both stare at each other for a long moment before Peeta looks away, staring out the window. I slowly approach him, like I might a frightened animal, until I'm standing in front of him. Wordlessly, he shifts his position so that his elbows are resting on his knees, giving me enough room to sit down. I do so, and mirror his position. This leaves us sitting across from each other, staring. Blue eyes meet grey.

I ask a question that's been bothering me ever since I left Peeta and Haymitch. "What did you say?" I ask. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "To Haymitch, I mean."

Peeta's eyes narrow for a moment, and I regret my quick denial of any sort of relationship between us. Obviously we had one. . .whatever it was. I just didn't have a name for it.

He finally answers me. "I told him we were friends."

I nod. I can deal with that, I guess. "Cause we're definitely not lovers," I say. Wait, why did I say that? A feel a blush start to creep up my cheeks and quickly look out the window, hoping that the train is dark enough so Peeta doesn't see.

"Definitely not," he agrees and I can hear the smile in his tone.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Mellark," I snap and in response he laughs at me.

I scowl.

"Wipe that scowl off your face, Everdeen," he mocks me, which only causes my scowl to deepen and for him to laugh more.

We sit in silence for a moment more before Peeta speaks. "Is it so bad?" he asks me softly. "To be friends?"

The slight vulnerability in his tone causes me to look at him, and I can tell that my answer really matters to him. "No," I answer honestly. I decide in that moment that Peeta and I are friends, just a different type of friend—one that I didn't have a name for. Madge was my friend. Gale was my best friend. Peeta was my friend, but he didn't fit into any established category in my mind.

"But you're unlike any friend I have," I say before I can stop myself. I look at him, as if he can give me the answers I seek. He only looks at me curiously, and for some reason I find myself trying to explain it to him.

"You're not like Madge," I tell him. Well duh. Peeta's a guy and Madge is a girl. From the smile on his face, I can tell that he's thinking along the same lines. "I mean, we don't have the same relationship that I do with Madge."

"And Gale is my best friend," I go on. I notice that Peeta seems to be paying a little bit more attention now. He's eyes are sharper. "We talk about practically everything. I feel safe with him. I trust him."

I look at Peeta, knowing that I look as confused as I feel. "But you . . . you confuse me . . . how you make me feel confuses me. I don't understand. We hardly ever talk, but we seem to understand each other. You have that creepy way of always knowing when I'm in a room—" I'm interrupted by Peeta's laugh. "It's not funny! I can be completely silent and you still know I'm there!" I look out the window as his laughter fades. "I just don't know," I say softly as I look at the dark shapes whizzing by. "I just don't know."

The train suddenly begins to slow and for a moment I wonder if it's broken down. However, I see a fueling station through the window right as we come to a complete stop. I look at Peeta and see that a light as entered his eye. He has an idea.

"What?" I question, but he wordlessly gets up and motions for me to follow. I do because I'm curious.

He comes to a stop at a door and gives the handle a sharp tug, causing it to open. A cool night breeze blows wisps of hair into my face and I'm glad I put it in my signature single braid before getting into bed. Otherwise my hair would have been all in my face and I hate the feeling.

Peeta hops out of the train and then turns around to me, waiting for me to follow. I raise my eyebrows, but nonetheless make the small drop to the ground. Gravel crunches under my feet as I follow him a little ways. He finally stops and by now I know that my eyes are burning with curiosity as to why he's decided to leave the train.

"Just thought it'd be nice to escape for a little while," he says by way of explanation. "It's a nice night anyway."

I look up at the night sky. It is a nice night.

Peeta plops down on the ground, leaving me standing awkwardly, so I sit down next to him. We're quiet for a few moments until Peeta speaks. "Remember when I got into that fight with Maverick Dawes?"

In response to his words, my mind immediately flashes back one year ago to a bitter cold winter afternoon. The sun had been out and shining but it didn't do much to warm up the air. It had been a particularly harsh winter. Lots of snow and ice. It had made hunting difficult and had taken all of mine and Gale's combined efforts to scrape by.

This is the time of year when the girls from the Seam flock to Cray's doorstep, at least more than usual. Cray is the Head Peacekeeper of District 12 and it's a known fact that he'll give a girl a few coins if they'll slip into his bed. The likelihood that I would have been one of those desperate girls had I not known how to hunt would have been high.

However, Cray is not the only one that these girls can go to. More than one merchant will do the same.

The boy that Peeta is referring to, Maverick Dawes, is the epitome of an arrogant asshole. He's big and well muscled since his family sells grain. Tossing around sacks of grain made him strong, and it was a known fact that his family secretly siphons off a little extra grain. Not enough to tip off the Capitol, but just enough to make a difference. No one likes Maverick Dawes, especially Peeta.

Because Maverick's family has all the grain, and Peeta's family runs the bakery, this causes the two to meet far more often than they'd like. Maverick thinks that Peeta is a 'pretty boy' and Peeta thinks that Maverick is a . . . well . . . simply put I'd never heard so many curse words strung together to form one enormous insult.

It was on this day, a cold February afternoon, that their intense dislike of each other came to a head. I'd been walking towards the scraggly tree where I'd always wait for Prim when I'd heard yelling. I'd turned around toward the noise and to my surprise I'd found Peeta and Maverick in each other's faces. I was mainly surprised because I'd never seen Peeta show any emotion that wasn't positive. I'd never seen him mad and by the time I'd focused on their yelling match, I'd realized that Peeta was furious.

I caught random words like 'Seam' and 'whore' and quickly deduced that they were arguing about the girls from the Seam. Considering the time of the year, this really didn't shock me. What did was the fact that Peeta was defending the Seam. I'd known that he didn't see us as any different, but even I knew that it was social suicide to say so—for a merchant at least.

I remember hearing the name 'Everdeen' and that was when Peeta's fist collided with Maverick's face. After that the fight was on, though really it was an all-out brawl. Maverick was strong, but Peeta was too, not to mention faster and smarter. I think the fight lasted as long as it did only because Peeta was so mad he wasn't thinking about a quick pin like he would if it were a wrestling match. He was simply fighting.

Eventually, the teachers and some of the older boys broke them up. I'd never seen Coach Calvin so angry and he was known throughout the school as a hothead. He chewed out Peeta and Maverick so thoroughly that I was surprised their ears weren't bleeding.

By this time, the crowd had faded away, but I stayed where I was under that scraggly tree. I hadn't even noticed that Prim had come up beside me until she asked me when we were going home. I murmured a reply, my eyes never leaving Peeta as Coach Calvin finally finished berating him. Peeta was told to go home, but Coach Calvin took Maverick to the apothecary. It looked to me like he had a broken nose.

Peeta just stood there in the schoolyard, looking at the ground where the fight had taken place. I'd told Prim to stay by the tree and walked over to him. When I came up to him, he looked up at me and gave me a little smile. He hadn't gotten off too badly. He had a cut under his eye and I saw a spot on his cheek that looked like it'd bruise. Other than that he was fine.

"Why?" I'd asked. "Why would you do that?"

He'd looked at me, his blue eyes dancing in amusement. "Because it was the right thing to do."

"Getting into a fight?" I'd raised my eyebrows. "You never struck me as the violent type."

"I'm not." Peeta shrugged. "Usually."

We were quiet for a moment. Finally, I'd said. "Thanks. For sticking up for the Seam. I'm sure they appreciate it."

Peeta looked at me. "I didn't do it for them—not entirely."

I knew what he meant. He'd done it for me. He'd only swung at Maverick after he'd said my name.

Peeta began to walk away, and I knew I had to say something. "Peeta!"

He stopped and turned back to me, surprised. I was a little surprised myself. It was the first time I'd ever used his first name. I'd always call him by his last name, Mellark.

He continued to look at me, waiting for me to say something. I tried to think of anything to say because I knew I had to say something. I knew it was important, but I just told him, "thank you."

A smile had spread across his face. "You're welcome."

I pull out of the memory. It's been a long time since I thought about that day. "Yeah," I say softly. "I remember."

Peeta looks at me, as if I'm missing something important. The meaning of him asking me to remember that day. I ask him, "Why do you always look out for me?"

A chuckle escapes him. His eyes dance with a secret that I don't know. "Because—"

"Don't you say it's because it's the right thing to do," I interrupt and Peeta chuckles again.

"Because we're friends," he finishes. "That's what friends do."

Suddenly, Peeta looks up. "I think we better get back on board before they leave without us."

I laugh at the idea. "Effie wouldn't know what to do."

Peeta grins and offers me a hand. I debate ignoring it, but we're friends, right? So I take it and he pulls me up as if I weigh nothing. We hurry back onto the train and right as Peeta shuts the door we begin to move.

"I better get to bed," I say. "I don't know about you, but I need all the sleep I can get."

"Sounds like a good idea," Peeta agrees.

"Well, then, I'm just gonna, um, go," I stumble over my words, much to my irritation.

Peeta seems to be biting back a smile. "Okay then." He heads towards his compartment. "See you later."

"See you," I repeat before abruptly turning on my heel and heading back to my compartment. The moment I'm in my room I inhale quickly, as if I'd been holding my breath.

My conversation with Peeta outside is sinking in. Peeta is once again proving his goodness. I hate myself for letting my guard down. I have a weakness for good people, there are so few in the world. They tend to wind their way into my heart, and I can't afford to care about Peeta in any capacity. Even how I feel about him now, the confusing version of friends that we apparently are, it's too much.

Because we're both going into the arena.

There can be only one winner. And for me to keep my promise to Prim that means that Peeta must die. The thought causes an uncomfortable wrench in my chest that confuses me, but at this point I'm so used to being confused by all-things-Peeta that I pay it no mind.

My eyes somehow land on the brown paper bag. The frosted cookies Mr. Mellark gave me. I suddenly grab the bag, open my window, and throw them out. The moon peeks out behind the clouds to provide just enough light for me to see that the cookies land in a patch of dandelions.

It's almost as if Fate is trying to tell me something.

Too bad I don't believe in fate.

I resolve in that moment to distance myself from Peeta. I can't afford to care for him more than I already do. I have to dissolve this odd, unnamed, confusing friendship that we have.

I can only hope that with twenty-two other tributes in the arena, I won't be the one to have to kill him.

But then again, the odds have never seemed to be in my favor.

And, drat. Katniss was making progress! But then again, with her, it's always one step forward, two steps back.

Never fear though, this resolve does not last for long! At all. Peeta is simply too irresistable. :D

Review?

Lots of love,

AC