A/N: Alrighty, guys! Here we are with the next chapter! It's one of my favorites, if only because Katniss is mad at Peeta and it was fun to write! They have a little tiff, but I've never been one to drag things out, so it gets resolved in this chapter . . . sorta.

And I can't get to the chapter without saying THANK YOU! to everyone who reads this story. All the reviews have been lovely and supportive and they make my day, let me tell you. I go around grinning like an idiot all day, I kid you not. This story is also my most alerted, too, which is epic considering that I'm just posting the 6th chapter and I've still got 20 more to go! So, thank you everyone for being awesome.

Random Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Peeta and Katniss are just my puppet pals for a while; Smurfs make the best spies; I keep Jack Sparrow in my basement; Dumbledore or Gandalf?. . .biggest question in my life; I think seagulls are strange creatures; Spock rocks; I am terrified of hand puppets . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 6

An eleven.

My training score was an eleven.

I stare at the television screen, looking at my picture, watching the number eleven flash under my name. Everyone in the room is congratulating me, Peeta is giving me an 'I told you so' smirk that causes me to smile and punch his arm. Peeta did well too. He got an eight.

After I'd cried my eyes out into Peeta's chest, we'd just laid there for a while. Mainly because I was so embarrassed I didn't think I could ever look him in the eye again. But Peeta just laid there with me and eventually asked me about my session with the Gamemakers. I'd told him the story wearily, a rogue tear escaping me every now and then. To my surprise, after I'd finished my story about shooting the arrow at the Gamemakers, Peeta had chuckled. I'd immediately been furious with him, yelling at him to leave again, but Peeta had ignored me, again, and explained. He reassured me that they wouldn't come take me away. After all, it would be a pain to replace me. He reassured me about my family because for them to punish my mother and Prim, they would have to admit what I had done. So, basically, he'd convinced me that I had nothing to worry about.

Amazing.

And now here I was with the top training score.

"Guess they liked your fire," Haymitch says.

Cinna is smiling brilliantly at me. "Katniss, the girl who was on fire." He gives me a congratulatory hug. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress!"

I suppress a smile. "More flames?"

Cinna grins mischievously. "Of a sort."

After another round of congratulations, Haymitch orders us to get to bed. Peeta and I make our way down the hallway. We pause at the doors to our rooms, mine on the left, his directly across on the right. I think back to earlier in the evening when he'd held me.

"Thank you," I tell him softly. "For being there."

Peeta gives me an easy smile. "No problem."

"I ruined your shirt."

"I have more."

A soft laugh escapes me. "How did you get in anyway?" I ask, knowing that I'd locked the door.

Peeta grins at me. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bobby pin. "Borrowed it from Effie."

"You picked the lock," I say disbelievingly. It's the only way he could have gotten in, and yet it had never really occurred to me. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Self taught," he explains. "Rye gets a kick out of locking me out of the house."

I laugh again. Rye Mellark is known throughout the school as the ultimate prankster. He's earned the title because everyone knows that he's responsible for every single prank, and yet he never gets caught. Last year, he was able to catch two geese. How, I still have no idea. He taped the numbers one and three on the geese and then set them loose in the school. Since he'd labeled the geese One and Three, everyone assumed that there was a goose number Two. Of course, there wasn't, and that was the beauty of it. The entire faculty spent the whole day looking for the second goose that didn't exist.

"You know, that was the first time someone's held me since my father died." The words leave my mouth without a thought. I don't know why I've told him this. I'm telling him things that I've never told anyone, even Gale, the one person whom I trust the most.

My words cause Peeta to frown. He looks like he wants to say something—I can see the struggle in his eyes. But he simply says, "I'm sorry."

I don't reply, too perturbed by admitting it to him in the first place.

Without a word I spin away from him and shut my door.

The next morning when I wake up, a pit of nerves twist uncomfortably in my stomach. There are only two days until the Games begin. Today is my day to prepare for my interview with Caesar Flickerman tomorrow night. And then the next day is the Games.

I shake my head clear of these thoughts and quickly dress and enter the dining room. I notice that Peeta is already up and chatting quietly with Effie and Haymitch. The talk quiets down once I sit at the table after filling my plate, but I don't pay attention to it. I'm too absorbed by the delicious lamb stew that has been served over a bed of wild rice. There are dried plums in the sauce and it's sublime.

The silence finally gets to me and I look up. I'm surprised we haven't begun talking about what we're all going to do today. Haymitch should be ordering us around by now. "So what's going on today? You're coaching us for our interviews, right?"

Haymitch nods.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done," I say. Haymitch isn't that polite anyway, and something pricks at the back of my mind. Something's up. "I can listen and eat at the same time."

"Well, there's been a change of plans," Haymitch says. "About our current approach."

I frown. Are Peeta and I not going to hint at something more in our relationship? Why would we do that? We'd destroy everything we'd built so far. All the anticipation, the suspense. We'd lose the Capitol's interest.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

Haymitch shrugs. "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

I drop my fork and it clangs as it meets my plate. My eyes immediately dart to Peeta, but he won't look at me. He's staring at his glass of orange juice like it's the most interesting thing in the world. He can't look me in the eye. Coward.

I'm so angry at him. Anger doesn't even begin to accurately describe how I feel. So, imagine my surprise when I speak, my voice filled with hurt, stinging of betrayal. "Peeta," I say softly. "Why?"

Peeta still doesn't look at me.

That offense seems to be what is needed for my fury to shine. "Damn it, Mellark!" I shove myself away from the table. "The least you could do is look me in the eye before you stab me in the back!" I spit before turning on my heel and leaving the dining room.

I don't know where my feet are carrying me, but when I find myself on the roof, I curse. Why did I come here? I scowl as I walk toward the railing. My fingers curl around the cool metal and I have it in a white-knuckle grip.

I hate myself. How could I have been so stupid? I should never have believed him. Anything he said. All of it was obviously a lie. And I had let him hold me last night! I'd let him see me cry! I hadn't let anyone see me cry in four years! I had never allowed myself to be vulnerable like that with anyone, and he's betrayed me.

I hold onto the anger I feel for as long as I can, because I know that underneath the anger is hurt and I don't want to feel it. I don't want to feel the hurt that I knowingly opened myself up to. I'd done it because I'd thought that even though it would be short-lived, I thought that a friendship with Peeta was worth it.

Why is he doing this? Everything about this boy confuses me. His actions. His words. What's he playing at? He holds my hand, being my steadying force. He challenges Cato to detract some of his attention from me. He holds me as I cry. He asks me to trust him. He tells me he won't hurt me.

Lies.

I hear the door open behind me and pray that it's not him, but I know it is. Everyone else would have left me alone. "Just go away, Mellark!" I say flatly. "I mean it!"

But when I turn around, I see Cinna.

"Since I'm not Peeta, do I get to stay?" he asks me calmly.

In response I turn away from him and stare out at the bustling Capitol. I feel him come to stand beside me. "It's nice up here," he says after a moment. "Away from it all. Good way to escape the chaos for a while."

I give a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Katniss," he says softly, and I look up at him. His brown eyes are so kind. "Don't you think you're judging him a bit harshly?"

"A bit harshly?" I snarl. "Cinna, he's asking to be coached separately!"

"Maybe all is not as it seems." Cinna looks to the morning sky, studying the clouds for a moment.

"Obviously," I say. "He's playing some angle, Cinna. I just don't know what it is. He's hiding something from me."

"Why would you care?"

"Because we're friends," I say before I scowl. "At least we were. For all I know this is just a whole elaborate scheme concocted to lure me into a false sense of security. Pretend to be my friend and then stab me in the back."

Cinna is quiet for another long moment until he says, "He does care about you."

I scoff.

"Maybe you don't see it, maybe you refuse to, but that boy cares whether you live or die." I look up at Cinna, and I can tell by the look in his eye that he genuinely believes what he's saying.

I sigh. "He confuses me so much, Cinna," I confess quietly. "He makes me feel things, things that I don't understand. I just . . . I don't know, Cinna. I just don't know."

Cinna smiles at me. "Perhaps you'll figure it out in time."

"Until then," he continues. "You have four hours of coaching with Effie."

I let out a dubious laugh. "What can Effie possibly teach me that will take four hours?"

A more accurate question would have been what can't Effie teach me in four hours. After talking with Cinna, I go down to my room, glad that I don't run into Peeta or Haymitch. Effie immediately gets to work, and for a moment I'm scared of my escort.

Effie puts my feet into four inch heels that kill my soles and pinch my toes. I walk from one side of my room to the other until I can walk without wobbling. Next is the floor length gown. I hate it. It swishes uncomfortably between my legs, and I hitch it up, causing Effie to screech, "Not above the ankle!"

In four hours, Effie has taught me how to walk, sit, stand, and smile. Well, she didn't teach me to smile; she just tried to get me to smile more.

"Come on, Katniss," Effie chirps. "It's not that hard. Just smile."

My grimace deepens.

Effie looks like she's about to pull her hair out, wig and all, but somehow she keeps the smile on her face. It's actually quite disturbing. "Katniss, I've seen you smile before. Genuinely. Just think of what made you smile then."

I pause. What made me smile? The woods, but they reminded me of home. Gale, but I'd probably never see him again. Prim for the same reason. It occurs to me that the only way I've been able to smile is Peeta.

I frown, and Effie throws her hands into the air.

I glance at the clock and see that my four hours is up. "Oh, look, time to go," I say, chucking off my high heels, hiking up my dress to my knees, and fleeing from the room.

It's just my luck that I run smack into Peeta.

My hands brace themselves on his chest, and his hands settle on my waist. For a moment, we just stare at each other, but then I break eye contact and shove him to the side. I must have shoved him harder than I thought or he was caught off guard because I hear him hit the wall.

I really don't care.

Haymitch is in the main room waiting for me. He's sitting in one of the easy chairs, and I take a seat on the couch. I wait for him to start telling me what to do or what to expect, but he just sits across from me, frowning.

Finally, I cave after five minutes of silence. "What?" I ask.

"I'm trying to figure out what to do with you," Haymitch replies, studying me. "How we're going to present you. Are you going to be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you're shining like a star. You volunteered to save your sister. Cinna made you look unforgettable. You and Peeta have shown a united front. You've got the top training score. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are. The impression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what I can get you in terms of sponsors."

I frown at the mention of Peeta. "What's Mellark's approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?"

"Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor naturally," says Haymitch. "Whereas when you open your mouth, you come across more as sullen and hostile."

"I do not!"

I swear Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Please. I don't know where you pulled that cheery, wavy girl on the chariot from, but I haven't seen her before or since."

My mind flashes back to the night of the parade. I remember clutching Peeta's hand, looking up at him. I remember simply watching what he was doing and then mimicking the action. I almost growl in frustration. Since when did I depend on someone so much?

"You've got the audience wrapped around your finger already, sweetheart," he says. "Yours and Peeta's relationship will come up during the interview. That's a given. In fact, it'll probably be all you talk about, though he'll probably ask you why you volunteered. You've got one shot at this, make it count."

We spend the rest of the time trying to find me an angle that I can work. It quickly becomes hopeless, and Haymitch begins to drink. We discover that I'm not sexy, witty, or charming. I don't have the arrogance to be cocky, and apparently I'm too vulnerable to be fierce. Two hours into the session and it's looking like I'm not anything.

"Come on, sweetheart," Haymitch growls. "Give me something to work with! You've got just about as much charm as a dead slug."

Ouch. That hurts.

"Listen," Haymitch says, his voice softer than before. "Try being honest. Tell it like it is. You're good at that."

"What?" I ask bewildered. What if they ask me about how I feel about the Games? Am I supposed to say that I think they're barbaric, heinous, and completely despicable? Somehow, I think not.

My thoughts must show on my face, because Haymitch shakes his head. "Just be honest. Be yourself."

"You said I'm sullen and hostile!" I tell him, irritated.

Haymitch smirks. "Yeah, around me. It must be my sparkling personality. When you get up there, answer the questions like you would to a friend."

"I don't have many friends."

"Then it should be easier to choose." Haymitch takes a swig from his flask and frowns as it's empty. "Oh, that's not good," he says before getting up and going to get more alcohol.

I dismiss myself, declaring the coaching over.

Dinner is a tense event. No one says a word and the only sounds to break the silence are scratching forks and knives against plates and the occasional sound of a glass being refilled. And yet, the silence between Peeta and I is so ridiculously loud. It's like when you scream until your voice is raw and soundless. I sneak glances at him when I think he's not looking and he sneaks glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking.

It's irritating the hell out of me.

The hurt I feel by his betrayal has not faded, and Cinna's words on the roof this morning have done little to dull the pain and only catapulted my confusion to new heights. I try to hold on to the anger, but it takes so much energy. I'm tired, and the pain is settling in, producing an odd ache in my chest.

I find myself on the roof once again later that night. The night is warm and there's a cool breeze that feels heavenly against my skin. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. For a moment, I'm back in District 12 in the woods with Gale. It's just a regular Sunday afternoon. I wonder what he's doing now. I miss him. I miss my best friend.

When I hear the door open to the roof I know that it's not Cinna this time. I hear Peeta come up beside me. We stand beside each other, although there is a good two feet between us, even if it feels like a hundred. Nothing is said by either of us for a long time.

"What do you want Mellark?" I finally ask.

"For you to trust me."

I stare at him incredulously. "You want me to trust you? We're about to go into the Games, Mellark. There's only one winner."

"So you've told me," Peeta says. "Multiple times. And I've already told you that I don't want to win."

By this time we've made our way to the garden so that the sound of the wind and the chimes drown out our voices.

"Oh, so I'm supposed to believe that if one of the tributes attacks you, you're just gonna let them kill you?" I whisper, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

"No," Peeta admits. I get the feeling that he wants to tell me something again, there's conflict shining in his eyes. "I wouldn't."

I growl. "Then what am I supposed to believe?" I ask. "What's your endgame, Peeta?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he says quietly.

Suddenly, it all clicks. "This is all a part of your plan," I realize. "Asking Haymitch to coach us separately. You're doing it so I won't know what you're going to say in your interview."

Peeta doesn't say anything, but I know that I'm right.

"What are you planning?" I ask him again.

A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. "It's a secret."

"Not for much longer," I say smartly, and Peeta loses his smile, looking serious.

"No," he agrees. "Not for much longer."

We're silent for another long moment. I look at the flowers around us. My fingers caress a large red blossom with a yellow center. It's beautiful.

"Are we friends, Peeta?" I ask, my voice sounding hesitant, fearful of his answer.

"Yes," he says softly. "Katniss, I know you're confused, and I'm sorry I hurt you. But I've got to see this through."

"How important can it be?" I ask him. "When it comes down to it, none of this matters. The training scores, the interviews. All we have in the arena is ourselves."

"Maybe," Peeta shrugs. "But this is the most important thing I'll probably ever do."

I don't see how it could be. His words just don't make sense to me. Obviously, he has a plan and it's all coming to a head during his interview. I wonder what he's going to say. What could he be thinking of saying that would cause him to ask to be coached separately, just so I don't know what it is? It makes me think that he's going to say something about me.

"Is it about me?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Is that why you're doing this?"

Peeta gets that look in his eye again, the one that makes my heart race and my stomach flutter. He closes the space between us and reaches up to run the back of his knuckles over my cheek. The gesture is so gentle and caring that it causes my heart to clench in a way that's quickly becoming familiar to me whenever Peeta is concerned.

"Everything I do, I do for you," he tells me softly.

His words, combined with the foreign feelings in my system and my confusion cause me to want to tuck tail and run, but he has me frozen. I can't move. I stare into his blue eyes, so like a cloudless summer sky. I can't look away.

"You're still watching out for me," I realize.

"Always."

Oh, Peeta. Sweetheart, you are every girl's dream you know that? Seriously.

Katniss you need to realize this and jump on it . . . oh, that statement could be taken more than one way, couldn't it? :D

So . . . Katniss sorta kinda knows what Peeta's big plan is. I mean, Peeta can't flat out lie to her. That would be very un-Peeta like. And we can't have that.

So. Next chapter. Interviews. *cue dramatic music*

Reviews anyone? They do make my day.

Lots of love,

AC