A/N: Okay, okay, okay. I've got to get something off my chest. It's overwhelming me in it's intensity, so I'm just going to throw this out there . . .

OH. MY. GOD. YOU GUYS ARE EPICALLY AWESOME AND FANTASTICAL. WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE YOU?

Dude, this be crazy.

So...now that my need for an outburst has been satisfied...

Seriously, though. Thank you guys for reading. Your reviews are a joy to read, and I do try and reply to every last one of them. What's surprised me most is the sheer amount of readers I have. And some of you guys read my Merlin stories! Merlin! The stories that I wrote 2 years ago and desperately need to go back and edit! I won't lie, I'm flipping out at how many readers have followed me into this fandom. So, really guys, thank you bunches. :)

And so this chapter is the interviews (insert dramatic music here). Lots of fun tweaking from the books in this chapter. Though I think I will surprise you with the route that I took with a particular character's interview...

Oh, goody. (giggles in anticipation)

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; Elves are real...Legolas and I talk...Be jealous . . . still think I own HG?

Chapter 7

All I can think about the next morning are Peeta's words last night on the roof. What is he going to say, and how is it going to help me? I don't know what could possibly make any difference. In the end, the Capitol just wants entertainment. They want to watch children fight to the death. What do our words matter? How can a few simple words change anything?

Peeta consumes my thoughts the rest of the morning. I hardly notice my prep team as they work on me, polishing my skin and making it glow. Venia does my hair, weaving in strands of red into my signature braid. They place a thin layer of makeup over my face and highlight all of my features. Big eyes. Red lips. They even put gold glitter in my eyelashes. The final touch is when they cover my body in a light gold dust that makes me shimmer.

When Cinna comes into the room, he's carrying a large garment bag that I assume holds my dress. I eye the bag curiously, and Cinna notices. He smiles excitedly before telling me, "Close your eyes."

Only because he's Cinna to I humor him and do as he's asked. I feel the soft silken dress caress my skin and then I feel the weight of it. It has to be forty pounds! Octavia helps me into my shoes, which I note with relief are only two inches. Thank you, Cinna.

"Are you ready?" Cinna asks me.

I nod.

"Open your eyes."

I don't recognize the creature standing in front of me. She's unequivocally beautiful. Her dark hair, woven with red, seems to glow. . .her skin is radiant. . .but her dress, oh her dress. . .my dress.

Waves of red silk cascade down my body, wrapping around me. Hundreds of reflective gems are woven into the dress. Red. Yellow. Orange. Blue. They refract the light and make me look as if I'm engulfed in tongues of flame.

"Oh, Cinna," I whisper, looking at him in awe. "It's gorgeous!"

Cinna smiles. "Twirl for me."

I do and my prep team reacts with squeals of delight. They all praise Cinna before they leave, and when they're out the door, Cinna turns to me. "Alright, let's have you move around a little bit."

I walk around the room, getting used to the heels and the dress. I'm immensely grateful that the dress hangs in such a way that I don't have to bother with lifting the skirt. I mentally praise Cinna for his fortuitous foresight.

"So, all ready for the interview, then?" he asks.

My stomach drops at the thought of being on stage with Caesar Flickerman, live in front of all of the Capitol and Panem. "I think so," I manage to say without my voice trembling. "Um, Haymitch told me to be myself."

Cinna smiles. "That's probably some of the best advice he'll ever give you."

"But everyone else will be working some angle, Cinna," I say, worried. "What if they don't like me? Most people don't."

"They already love you, Katniss," he tells me. "You're the girl on fire. You've got their attention. Trust me."

"That's why you need to just be yourself up there," Cinna continues softly. "You, my dear, can only be who you are. Few people have that honesty, that spirit. It's valuable. And it's what separates you from everyone else. You are who you are. What you see is what you get."

Cinna's words make me feel better, but I still have one problem. "Haymitch said to pretend like I'm talking to a friend, but . . ." I trail off. "Cinna, I honestly don't know who that can be. It can't be Gale or Prim. And if it were Peeta, there's no telling what I would say. I don't know who to choose."

"What about me?" Cinna asks. "Would you consider me a friend?"

"Of course," I say immediately and Cinna smiles at me.

"I'll be sitting right down front," he says. "Front and center. Just talk to me, and everything will be fine."

I nod. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Cinna opens the door and leads me through the twisting turns backstage to the elevators so we can meet up with the rest of our entourage from District 12. As soon as the doors open and Peeta steps out, my eyes are glued to him. Portia and her prep team have been hard at work, and it's plain to see that it paid off. Times ten.

Peeta is looking more handsome than ever before in a coal black suit with flame accents cut just for him. I'm glad to see that we're not dressed alike this time. That was getting annoying over the past few days. Now, we simply coordinate, looking like two designs of the same outfit. I like this much better.

Blue eyes are staring at me, and I feel the greatest need to blush, but I fight the feeling. Peeta's eyes travel my body from head to toe and my insides are flipping and twisting and my heart is pounding so loud I'm surprised that he can't hear it. When our gazes meet, there's something different about his eyes. They seem like they're an even deeper shade of blue and it's making me dizzy.

He sends me a smile that's so incredibly soft and genuine. "You're beautiful."

A blush stains my cheeks and I hope that with the makeup and the dim offstage lighting that he doesn't notice. "Thank you," I say, feeling overwhelmed by the effect he's having on me.

It's all so new and I don't know how to react to it. While these new feelings are foreign, they're . . . exciting. But at the same time, I'm recoiling from them. New is not good. New is unknown and therefore unpredictable. I always shy away from change, but something is telling me that maybe this change isn't so bad. . .

And then there is another voice that's telling me to forget these feelings. Oddly, the voice sounds like Gale.

The rest of the tributes begin to line up offstage and we take our places at the end of the line. All twenty-four of us will be seated in a wide arc on a stage built in the City Circle. The interviews, each three minutes in length, will begin with the girl tribute from District 1 and then meander all the way down to me. At least I'm not dead last like Peeta.

I wish that I was the first to go, just so I could get it over with.

Right before we walk on stage, Haymitch comes up behind us. "Remember, you two are still hinting," he says. "That's all they care about from you two." He glances at Peeta. "Make it count."

I open my mouth to ask Peeta what Haymitch meant, but the line is moving and my heart is racing as I step onto the stage. My only thought is that I hope Peeta's reflexes are quick enough to catch me if I trip. But it turns out these thoughts aren't needed because I make it to my seat without falling on my face.

The interviews will start in mere minutes and I foolishly look around to distract myself. There must be thousands of people in the City Circle, and even though it's evening, the stage is as bright as the sun. My eyes find Cinna, and that's a small comfort to me. He's right where he said he would be—front and center. The cameras will cut to the stylists when the crowd reacts to their handiwork. My eyes glance toward the many balconies spaced out on either side of the City Circle. One to my left is reserved for the Gamemakers. I'm glad I can't see their faces. Television crews occupy more than one balcony and I try to ignore them. I'm going to be surrounded by cameras for the foreseeable future; I might as well start to forget they're even there.

Simple in theory. Seemingly impossible in practice.

I glance at Peeta, and he gives me a winning smile. I envy his ease with the cameras. He knows they're there, but instead of being terrified, he gives the cameras exactly what they want. He always knows what to say and what to do. It's remarkable.

But even I'm surprised when I Peeta reaches over, grabs my chair, and maneuvers it as close to him as possible. He makes a big show about it, not bothering to do it delicately so as to make the movement as unnoticeable as possible. Instead, he lets the legs of my chair grind against the floor, making a loud scraping noise that causes all twenty-two of the other tributes to look at us.

Peeta either doesn't notice or doesn't care, I assume that it's a little of both, and throws his arm around the back of my chair like he doesn't have a care in the world. He sees the mild panic and questions in my eyes, and gives me a reassuring smile and a playful tug on my braid.

He leans his head down to me, his lips at my ear. "Relax," he breathes. "We can do this."

Already, the cameras are flashing at us, and I see that Peeta is playing his role to perfection once again. How he's able to manipulate the crowd is nothing short of amazing. The interviews haven't even started and already we have them wrapped around our finger.

It's only seconds later when Caesar Flickerman flounces onto the stage. Caesar has hosted the interviews for more than forty years and it's frightening how little his appearance has changed over the years. In the Capitol you can have surgery done to fix the signs of aging. Where in District 12 wrinkles were a sign of longevity and success, in the Capitol they just made you ugly.

Like in all years past, Caesar is in his midnight blue suit that's lit up with tiny twinkle lights. This year, his hair, lips, and eye makeup are a powder blue. It's horrendous, but a huge leap better than last year when his color of choice was crimson. It had looked like he was bleeding everywhere.

Caesar warms up the crowd with opening comments and a few jokes. Then he calls up the girl tribute from District 1, Glimmer. It's not difficult to see which angle Glimmer's mentor chose. Glimmer is tall and athletic with golden skin and equally golden hair, along with the big, bright green eyes of an enchantress. Add to that a sheer golden gown that hugs her every curve and it's obvious that Glimmer is going for sexy. She's succeeding with flying colors.

The Districts slip by. Before I know it 2, 3, and 4 are done. The girl from District 5's angle appears to be elusive and sly. She pulls it off flawlessly and I name her Foxface because of it. 8, 9, and 10 go by and my palms begin to sweat. Not even Peeta's arm around my shoulders or Cinna's calming presence can ward off the nerves that are twisting my stomach into knots.

When Rue, the little girl from 11, takes her seat beside Caesar, she immediately has everyone's attention. Her stylist has put her in a gossamer gown, complete with wings. It's appropriate, because Rue's posture is that of a bird about to take flight. Rue, surprisingly, received a seven for her training score, which is unheard of for one so young. I, like the rest of the audience, am wondering exactly what she did during her session to gain such a score.

"I'm very hard to catch," she explains. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

"I wouldn't in a million years," Caesar says encouragingly before the buzzer goes off and Thresh, Rue's district partner takes the stage.

Thresh's angle is menacing, and it suits him perfectly. While Rue is cute and tiny, Thresh is hulking and fierce. He is easily six and a half feet tall and built like an ox. No matter what Caesar does, Thresh gives one word answers, or simply doesn't answer at all.

And then Caesar is calling my name, introducing me.

Peeta gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before I stand and make my way to Caesar. My heart is beating so loud, I'm afraid it's going to jump out of my chest. I sit and my eyes immediately find Cinna in the crowd. He nods encouragingly to me, and while his presence reassures me, it does nothing to slow my quick heartbeat.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District 12," Caesar begins. "What's impressed you the most since you arrived here?"

Huh? My mind blanks, staring out at all the people. All of the people watching me, judging me. I don't know what to say. I find Cinna in the crowd and he gives me a smile.

Be honest.

"The lamb stew." I say it the moment after it pops into my head.

Caesar laughs and I realize that some of the audience is too. Well, that least my first answer wasn't a complete fail.

"The one with the dried plums?" he asks. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful!" Caesar suddenly makes a face of faux horror. "It doesn't show, does it?" he asks the audience.

I'm grateful to Caesar. He truly does help the tributes with their interviews.

Caesar turns his attention back to me. "I don't know about you, but my heart stopped when you came out at the opening ceremonies! That outfit! What did you think about it?"

I laugh, and look at Cinna apologetically. "After I got over the fear of being burned alive?"

The audience laughs and the cameras zoom in to show Cinna shaking his head, a smile on his face.

"But honestly, I think it was the most gorgeous costume and Cinna is brilliant," I say with a smile like Effie taught me. "I mean, look at what I'm wearing now!" I lift up my skirt to show off the jewels of fire. The crowd oohs and ahhs and I see Cinna making a small gesture.

Twirl for me.

I spin in a circle and the crowd goes wild.

"Oh, do that again!" Caesar encourages and I twirl a few more times before I have to stop because I'm afraid I'll fall over. "Oh, don't stop!"

"I'm dizzy!" I giggle. Wait . . . did I seriously just giggle? Must be the nerves.

"Don't worry, I've got you," Caesar grins, wrapping a protective arm around me and guiding me back to my chair. "Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps can we?"

The crowd roars at this. Haymitch's nosedive off the stage at the reaping is now famous, and the cameras quickly find him. He gives them an easy-going smile before pointing at the stage, telling them to focus on me.

Which they do.

"Now," Caesar turns back to me. "Let's talk about that training score! An eleven? Care to share how that came about?"

I blush against my will and glance up at the Gamemakers' booth. "I don't think I'm allowed to talk about it," I say with a small smile as I remember the man falling over into the punch bowl. "But I think it was a first."

The camera zooms in on the Gamemakers and they're all smiling and nodding in agreement.

"Alright, let's go back to when your sister's name was called at the reaping," Caesar says and I freeze, internally panicking. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?" I can't talk about this! I don't want Panem to know what I was thinking or anything about Prim in any shape or form.

I glance at Cinna, and take a deep breath before looking at Caesar. "Her name is Prim and I love her more than anything," I say seriously. The mood is quiet. Everyone is listening to what I have to say.

"Did she say anything to you?" Caesar asks.

"She asked me to try and win," I say. You could hear a pin drop; the City Circle is so quiet. "And I promised her I would."

Caesar let's my answer marinate in the crowd before going on. "I'm sure she has faith in you," he says. "Now, we're running out of time, Katniss, but I have to ask you one more question that me and all of Panem are dying to know." Caesar gives me a winning smile and then leans closer to me conspiratorially. "Now, there have been rumors just flying about you and your fellow tribute . . ." The audience cheers and whoop whistles causing me to blush, and my eyes betray me as they flash immediately to Peeta who has a small smile on his face.

"So," Caesar draws out the word for emphasis. "My dear, Katniss, what's the truth?"

I pause. I open my mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in my throat. I know that I'm blushing like crazy. I can feel the heat of my blush from my chest to the roots of my hair. Finally, I'm able to say, "I owe Peeta my life."

It's not what Caesar was expecting me to say, and it wasn't what I expected me to say either. The words just came out, but I can't take them back.

Caesar makes a 'go on' motion with his hand.

I can't believe I've gotten myself into this. I can't believe I'm going to talk about the bread.

"My father died in a mine explosion when I was eleven," I say, and to my horror I feel the beginnings of tears forming in my eyes, but I know I have to continue. "The Capitol gave us some money, but eventually it ran out and we were starving. And then one night in the rain, I was heading home from trying to sell some things in town. But . . . I just gave up for a moment . . ." I trail off, remembering that night. "I didn't realize I'd stopped behind the bakery until, suddenly, Peeta was there." There's no way I'm telling the whole truth of this story. I'm not announcing to all of Panem that Peeta got a beating from his mother for his kindness. "He gave me two loaves of bread. He helped me when no one else did." I can't help but look at Peeta, who is hanging on my every word, just like the audience. "I guess you could say he's been watching out for me ever since."

Caesar opens his mouth to say something, but the buzzer interrupts him. "Well, there you go ladies and gentlemen! Katniss Everdeen from District 12!"

I take my seat by Peeta, and he barely has time to give my hand a quick squeeze before Caesar calls him up.

Caesar gets right down to it the moment Peeta sits. I can see that Peeta's good-humored, likable approach isn't really going to work. Caesar wants Peeta's thoughts on what I said.

"Now, Peeta, I'm just going to jump right into things," Caesar tells him, and Peeta gives him an easy smile.

"Great."

"It seems to me Peeta that you've got a case of white-knight syndrome," Caesar says and the audience cheers. "Tell me, what made you give Katniss that bread?"

Peeta hesitates, before glancing at me with a small smile. "Because it was the right thing to do."

"Oh, come on," Caesar chides playfully. "There's got to be more to it than that!"

"Well . . ." Peeta pauses, and looks down, suddenly looking very shy and nervous. "I couldn't not help her, Caesar."

"Why is that?"

The audience is hanging on Peeta's every word, just like I am. I feel my heart begin to speed up, like it knows that something is coming. My mind flashes back to our conversation on the roof last night. Peeta has a plan. The plan is coming to a head tonight, right now. I can feel it. He's going to say something, something that will supposedly help me.

I just have no idea what it could be.

And then Peeta speaks. "Because I'm in love with her."

Annnnnndddd...CUT!

Yep. Katniss talked about the bread. I went there, yes I did. After all, what was she going to say? "Peeta is ridiculously sexy and I love him more than my own life?" Though that would have been awesome . . . she's not quite to that point, yet. Never fear, eventually, we will get there. :D

Sooooo...next chapter is my favorite chapter of the entire story. Somehow, I made one entire conversation last more than 4,000 words. I still don't know how I managed to do that. But, I think a lot of you will definitely like the next chapter! Especially the end. Definitely the end. :D

And now, hopefully, I've gotten you all revved up for the next chapter, so you can be as excited as me. And I'm practically bouncing. Bouncing.

See you guys Saturday!

Lots of love,

AC