When the elevator door opens in middle of the room, I look around in awe. This is the most beautiful room I've seen in the Capitol yet, and not because it's painted some fluorescent color or decorated with abstract designs. All four walls are made of sheer glass, and two silver chairs sit in front of one. The moon and city lights give the room a silvery glow as I look all around me, able to see the entire Capitol skyline. The faint sound of cars and footsteps can be heard underneath, but for the most part this room is dead silent. I sit in a silver chair, heaving a sigh. What a perfect place this is to just sit and think, if only I could keep up pace with my racing mind. My eyes absorb the aesthetic view, because they know this will be the last time they'll see anything like it.
The elevator dings, piercing the silence. Broken from my passive calm, I whip my head around to see who's come up to find me. The doors open and reveal Cato, who seems just as startled as me.
"Damn," he says, walking inside. "What are you doing up here so late?"
"Just thinking." I say, looking back outside the window.
He pulls a box of cigarettes and a match from his pocket. "Thought you were a mentor and hid them. Want a smoke?"
"I've never smoked before." In fact, I've never even seen a cigarette before. Back in District Twelve, no one could afford to have luxuries or bad habits. But I figure if I'm going to die in a few days, I don't see a reason not to, so I accept.
Cato sighs. "You better not tell anyone about this." He strikes the match against the side of the box and lights the small, white tube and hands it to me.
"I swear I won't." I reply, taking the cigarette and inhaling deeply. It burns in my throat, causing me to cough incessantly.
He lights his own, and laughs. "Don't breathe it in so much." He demonstrates, exhaling a cloud of strong-smelling smoke. Even though I know he's only eighteen, he looks like a man with a cigarette pressed to his lips. "Do it like that."
I try again and finally succeed. I'm glad I learned how to do it properly. "Wow," I say, surprised at how good it feels. "I actually thought I was going to die for a second there."
"Yeah, it was like that the first time I had one too." he says. "They hand them out like candy in Two."
"Well you're lucky, because we can't afford crap in my District." I say.
It's really very weird to see Cato outside of training. Standing here in our nightclothes, smoking like chimneys makes me realize that as a person, he's not scary or monstrous at all.
"Well, neither of us could buy our way out of this." He says bitterly, inhaling from his cigarette again.
"I thought you and the Careers were just going to kill everyone anyway." I say, not realizing it's a very bold statement until it's too late.
Cato shrugs. "You can count your blessings, because I wasn't planning on killing you." he says.
"Why not?" I ask, questioning whether he's serious or not. I didn't even think about how stupid it sounded until after I said it.
He looks directly at me, ignoring the ineptitude of my comment. His eyes are solemn. "You're the only person I can even call a friend here. And trust me, I haven't had many."
His response almost seems too good to be true. Here he is, easily the strongest Tribute, and he considers me a friend and decides to spare me. "So even in the heat of the Games, you're not going to hesitate to kill me?" I ask, still in disbelief.
"I told you I'm not. I don't care what the Capitol throws at me, or what they want Panem to learn from it. I'm not killing you or the other Careers. I'll take out anyone else, but I can't kill a friend."
"Neither can I." I say, looking out the window. I'm still confused about his motive, but with the hours of my life draining like sand in an hourglass, I decide not to over contemplate. Cato smiles kindly, a look I never would expect to see on his face. "So is this a truce?" I ask.
"Yeah." he says, rubbing out the glowing cigarette on his pants. "But you'd better get to bed. We've got interviews tomorrow."
I agree, imitating his method of burning out the smoke on my own clothes. I get up to leave, but I notice that he doesn't follow. "Aren't you going to bed too?" I ask.
He keeps staring out the window. "I'm not tired."
I decide it's best not to interrogate, so I proceed to the elevator and leave Cato in the room. I grit my teeth and wince as the elevator dings, crossing my fingers that it won't wake anyone up. Quickly, I scamper down the hall and into my room, laying on my bed. The cigarette's completely sedated me and I fall immediately into a dreamless, tranquil slumber.
But I definitely don't want to get up. Caesar Flickerman will be interviewing us today, which means that until we walk on stage, we'll be in the salon, getting plucked, waxed and edited until we meet the Capitol standard of beauty. Honestly, I think the way they genetically alter everything is vile. One of the women in Katniss' prep team seems to have dyed her skin a putrid green. If a girl in Twelve were to dye anything on her body, nobody at all would find it beautiful. I wrap myself in a brown bathrobe and begin walking down the hall to breakfast.
"Good morning, Peeta!" Effie chirps.
"Morning." I stretch, then take a seat next to Katniss. "How did the Girl on Fire sleep?"
She gives me a sharp, uneasy glare. "Just fine."
I chuckle to lighten the mood. "I slept pretty well too. A lot better than last night."
No response. She stares down into her food, then back at me, as if I'm disgusting her so much as to curb her appetite. I can tell something's wrong. Every question I continue to ask her is answered with a short, obligated response. I'm not even sure why I'm still trying to win her kindness. Maybe Haymitch has told her everything about Cato and the Careers, and she feels betrayed. I certainly hope that isn't the case, because Haymitch has a very blunt, insensitive way of explaining things. He'd have definitely left out the part that I did it all for her. When breakfast is finished, we immediately visit the salon, where Portia, Cinna and Katniss' prep team are oogling over what new design or clothes we should wear for our interviews. I roll my eyes. If I've only got a few more hours to my life, it's not going to matter if I look like a movie star, or if I just look like myself. Nevertheless, Katniss and I are escorted down separate corridors with our prep teams as we visit different rooms for different cosmetic procedures for the next few hours. I'd have to say the most uncomfortable is having Dima wax my underarms once again. Not only does it hurt like hell, but she says almost nothing to distract me from the pain, keeping her pierced eyebrows narrowed to concentrate. I can see a lot more benefit to having that hair than not, because I'll need probably need any added warmth I can get in the arena. I count my blessings that she's not waxing anything else. Finally, she refers me to Utopia, who will dress me in Cinna's personal design. I've always respected Cinna. He's professional, compassionate, and Katniss seems to really appreciate him from what I've heard her tell Effie and Haymitch.
I wonder what they've done to Cato. It's not like they could really improve much. He's got the ardent stature of a mythical Greek god. Clean-cut blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a natural gold complexion. I'm not sure if I'm jealous or adoring, but it's difficult not to be a little envious when you're on the heftier side and white as a ghost. Utopia leads me to a full-length mirror.
"Peeta, it's fantastic!" she squeals, her hands cupped to her cheeks.
"Yeah, it looks nice." I say, forcing just a little bit of enthusiasm into my voice.
"I'm going to go get Portia." she bubbles, scampering away. "Don't move!"
The aftermath of their creation looks modern and basic. My hair is slicked back with a few strands casually falling over my forehead, and I am dressed in a basic tuxedo with an orange and red tie. I can't believe it took them near six hours to do this. After the women are done adoring their work, I walk out of the salon and onto the sidewalk, ready to greet the cameras. Oddly enough, Haymitch is waiting eagerly, his hands in his pockets.
"Hey." I say, acknowledging him.
"Oh, you look nice." he says. "But I want to talk with you about the interviews."
"Alright?"
We sit down on a chrome bench sitting beside the salon building, feeling the chilly September wind brush our shoulders. Haymitch coughs. "You've got a way with words, Peeta."
I pause. Where is he going with this? "Thank you, I guess."
"Since the Capitol likes, well, scandals, and you need sponsors to stay alive, I want you to convince them you're more than just a Tribute." says Haymitch.
"...Okay." I'm still confused.
He inhales deeply. "I want you to tell them you love Katniss. Tell them she's the only girl you've ever loved, or something sappy like that. You'll make the both of you look desirable."
"It'd definitely be the truth," I admit, hesitantly. "But it'd piss her off. And it'd be an unhinging thing to say on public television."
"It might, but it'll be best for you guys in the long run. Besides, you'll be plenty unhinged in the arena. Might as well face it early on."
There's a long pause between us. After the way she's treated me all this time, this public declaration might even make her mad enough to kill me if she doesn't return the feelings. But, who knows. The strongest Tribute's already vowed not to bust my head, so anything is really a possibility now. Besides, if my life is virtually over, now is the time to start taking chances.
"Alright." I agree.
Haymitch smiles, with only a single corner of his mouth turned upwards. "Well, I'll show you where you're going to sit until you're called up to do your interview."
We walk back to the Tribute Tower, right to the main floor. He leads me to an auditorium with a showy stage, cameras and angled, fluorescent lights. All twenty four Tributes sit, separated by District in the folding chairs backstage. Katniss is already seated, looking absolutely lovely. She is wearing a sleek red dress and her hair is tied in a princess-like updo. I've never seen her look so regal and beautiful before in my life, and it makes me proud to publically announce my affection. She seems very intimidated by the stage, but I've never minded the spotlight. I look over at the others, my eyes falling immediately on Cato. His hair is gelled to spike up, and he is dressed in a tuxedo and a black leather blazer. It looks striking, but I still don't know why they took so long to "beautify" us. Soon, Caesar Flickerman walks onto the stage, wearing his signature starry, blue tuxedo. He opens the show as the auditorium quickly swells with spectators. Each of us as given three minutes per interview, which means I will need to make a good impression and follow Haymitch's advice to the core. I zone out a bit through the first interviews. I'm distracted by preparing my big revelation. When it's time for Cato's interview, however, I listen intently. Caesar asks him the basic questions, how he enjoys the Capitol and such. He sounds energetic and fierce, almost antagonistic of the cool and collected smoker in the observatory room. When Caesar asks if he has a special girl back home, the crowd goes silent in anticipation.
"I...guess I'm quite the ladies' man." He says, shakily but still confident.
"Well that seems obvious. You're very attractive." says Caesar. "But I'm sure every girl will want you more if you return home a victor."
"Yeah, I guess."
As strong and, I'll admit it, attractive as Cato is, I bet every girl in Two is hanging all over him. I narrow my feelings down to jealousy. Guys like him are exactly what I have to compete with in the love field. Before I know it, Katniss' name is called for her interview. She is nervous, you can tell by her delayed speech. She regains confidence when she and Caesar begin to discuss the flames on her parade costume. She says she's already wearing them, and asks if the audience would like to see. Then, like a beautiful dancer she twirls about the stage, false flames emitting from the base of her dress. The audience screams and hollers in praise of Cinna's creation. Finally it is time for my interview. I'm the last one. I walk up to the stage nervously, taking a seat next to Caesar. His aging face forces a toothy, fabricated grin.
"Well, Peeta, it's nice to meet you." He says, shaking my hand.
"My pleasure."
He crosses his legs casually. "How are you enjoying your stay at the Capitol?"
"Well," I try to think of something witty. "The showers are weird."
He grins. "They are?"
"Tell me, do I smell like roses?" The crowd laughs as Caesar pretends to sniff me. I return the gesture.
"Okay, you smell fine." I laugh.
A few jokes later, Caesar asks if I have a special girl back home. I remember Haymitch's advice. "Well, there is one girl I've had a crush on since I was little, but I don't think she noticed me until the Reaping."
The crowd makes coos of sympathy. "That's a shame. Well, if you win, I guarantee that girl will want you." Says Caesar.
"I don't think winning will help me much."
"Why not?"
The crowd pauses. I take advantage of the silence to interject something blunt. "Because she came here with me."
The crowd turns into an uproar, screaming my name. I feel the high of adrenaline again, being recognized in the spotlight. It feels so good. As I walk backstage, I'm ambushed by Katniss, who pins me against the wall and begins violently shaking my shoulders.
"So first you want to train alone, then you make me look weak?" She continues shouting at me, as Haymitch and Effie force her off of me.
"I-I'm sorry!" I yell back.
"I'm dating Gale, damn you! How will he take this when he watches it on TV tonight?" She hisses. Haymitch finally pulls her away, yelling something that I don't even comprehend. I immediately walk away. I don't listen to what they tell her. I don't even care where I'm walking. She's dating Gale. I should have known it all along. My throat goes dry and I can hear my heart pound in anguish of the bout of depression I'm about to endure. Hell, I wouldn't even be exaggerating if I said I'd carry it until I die. I just want to crawl in a hole, because not only is my heart crushed, but I've made a fool of myself in front of the entire country as well. I decide to board the elevator, but which button to press? I'm not into visiting the other Tributes' rooms. I decide to visit the observatory again to face, in solitude, whatever rage my emotions want to run. When the doors roll open, I walk over to a cushioned chair, sigh and plop down. I immediately burst into tears. When I enter the arena, I'll be visible to all of Panem. It's best to get all my emotions out right now. As my tempest of tears recedes, I open my eyes and look outside. I see a blurred sea of pink and orange, the sun setting behind the mountains. I wonder if this is the last sunset I'll ever see.
I'm still letting the last of my tears trickle out when the elevator dings again. I assume it's Haymitch, coming to talk to me about the fiasco he's caused. Still, I don't want to be seen crying. I simply avoid staring at the elevator and keep my head turned. I can't help but sniffle a little as footsteps approach my chair.
"Hey, Loverboy."
I try even harder not to let my face show, deepening the tone of my voice. "Hey Cato."
"I saw what happened out there."
"I wish you didn't." I reply, speaking my mind.
He sits down next to me. I bury my head in my hands, averting him from my swollen red eyes.
"Want another cig?" he asks. I could definitely use one. His offer causes me to look up and face him. Cato is smirking and crossing his arms, still wearing his leather blazer, which doesn't look near as expensive and flamboyant up close. He takes the small box out of his pocket and lights one for me. There are only two that still remain afterwards. I take it, inhaling the sweet nicotine. He lights another for himself, and we watch the sun sink below the horizon.
"Thank you, it's exactly what I needed." I say.
"I'm clever, huh?" he chuckles arrogantly. "Clever enough to figure out your confession didn't set well with Katniss."
I feel tears well up in my eyes again. "No, it really didn't. I guess she's dating someone else."
"That sucks." He exhales a large cloud of smoke a bit too close to the window, fogging it up. "You really loved her, huh?"
"Yeah," I say, looking down. A silent tear streams down my cheek. "But I don't know if I could call it love. The only time I've ever gotten her attention is when I threw her a loaf of bread when we were younger. She was starving, sitting against a tree in the rain. My mom saw and got really mad and kicked my ass."
Cato stays oddly silent, staring out the window in a deep thought. I exhale my puff of smoke, wondering if Haymitch and Effie are looking for me.
"That's all she did?" he asks. "Your mom, I mean."
"Um, yeah, she beat me up quite a few times. In fact, before the Games, she told me that District Twelve would have a victor this year. She wasn't talking about me." I continue. "It's just by some sick circumstance that Katniss volunteered. And that I was chosen along with her."
"That's not how it works in Two." says Cato, pensively. "We all volunteer."
"You volunteered to come here?" I ask, bewildered at how someone could chose this for an early fate.
"It's what everyone does. I'd have done anything to get away from that place."
My rational mind tells me not to probe, but curiosity wins out, and I do it anyway. "Why was it so bad?"
Cato looks me straight in the eye, setting his cigarette on his lap. "Well, if I'm gonna tell you, I might as well do it while Panem isn't watching."
"Alright."
"My brother Oslo died two years ago in the Games. I wish my mom just beat the shit out of me instead of what she did to us." he says, the anger in his voice escalating.
"W-what did she do?" I ask.
"She raped us. All fucking week, while my dad went to mine at the Nut. After Oslo died, it was just me and her. And I couldn't take it."
I stare straight ahead, trying to make sense of this. Cato? Raped? It just doesn't match up to the strong boy I saw riding in the chariot, scaring the hell out of everyone in the Training Center. "Why would she do that?"
"The bitch was a whack job, she'd always slap me around every time I brought it up. I never understood it."
"But you're physically strong, couldn't you overpower her?"I ask.
"She'd blackmail me. She'd threaten to tell my dad that I assaulted her, then I'd really be in for it." he says, burying his face in his hands vulnerably. "I was glad to come here, Loverboy. If I came home a victor, she'd see my potential and fuck off. If I got killed, at least I'd get away from that."
I try to take all of this in. I can't believe he's actually disclosing this to me in such a short time, but I guess being at the end of the rope really can push someone to take chances.
"Well, I'm not going to kill you. I promise." I say, trying my hardest to be reassuring. I have no idea how to respond, and this is the best thing I can muster up.
"I'm not going to kill you, either. It just sucks that there can only be one victor."
We both pause, trying hard as possible to evade the evident fact that one of us is going to die, be it at the hands of each other or someone else. Then there's Katniss, who probably wouldn't have a problem killing either of us.
"I've got no one to go home for." I say, grimly. "I take it you don't either."
"I've never loved a woman. They're all disgusting, especially Glimmer. I might even be able to kill the bitch."
Unfortunately, I don't object, because I probably could too. I reflect over the way she acts, knowing it must remind Cato painfully of his mother.
"I'll just let Katniss kill me." he says, almost sarcastically. But something tells me he's a slight bit serious.
"No." I say, firmly. "I don't care what the Capitol wants. I'm not going to be a piece in their Games, and you two won't either."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
I pause. What do I mean? It's not like all three of us can come out of this. I've only known the guy for a matter of days, but he's already a better friend than anyone in Twelve besides Delly. I can't just let him die. "...I don't know."
He sighs, getting up and burning out his cigarette on his pants again. By now, the sky is a dark blue, and the horizon has been dotted with multicolor city lights. "Whatever happens, happens I guess. All I know is we've got a truce. I won't kill the girl if it makes you happy." he says.
"Thank you." I heave a relieved sigh.
"But when we get in the arena tomorrow morning, run into the woods. I'll come find you. Just find someplace to hide and we can figure out this fucked up world when we get to it."
"Will you bring the rest of the Careers?" I ask.
"Probably. But don't worry. You won't die. But I'm going to bed, I'll see you tomorrow, Loverboy." He says the last part almost sarcastically.
"Good night." I say, as he boards the elevator and descends.
It's so much to take in. I can't believe that someone strong like Cato could be dominated at all, by anyone or anything else. All of this feels so surreal. I never expected to make a friend here. The circumstances were unfitting, and it didn't seem like there was enough time to come to know anyone. I still can't believe that Katniss and Gale are actually together. It definitely clarifies what they spent all that time in the woods doing, but I avert that thought away from my mind. I wish I could move on, but there's nothing to move on to. Suddenly, the ding of the elevator sounds. I brace myself for Effie or Haymitch to walk inside and detect the smell of secondhand smoke. My mind fumbles, trying to think of a good excuse. But instead of my mentors, the doors open and Katniss walks calmly over to me.
"Hey." She says, her voice much quieter than Cato's.
"Hey." I'm determined to act as friendly as possible to her, letting my soft spot for her preside.
"Can't sleep?"
"Yeah," I say, gazing out the window. "I can't believe the Games start tomorrow." We silently stare at the crescent moon hovering the vast metropolitan area, contemplating our fates. I'm finding it so hard not to tell her about Cato. It's burning at the tip of my tongue, becoming harder and harder to conceal as things happen and time goes on.
"Listen," she says. "I'm sorry about the outburst."
"It's fine." I lie.
"Peeta," she says. "You know I love Gale."
Once again, my body breaks into a cold sweat at the harsh truth. Why does she need to keep reminding me?
"Yeah." I say, trying to appear relaxed. "I do."
"But hey, thanks anyway. We'll get lots of sponsors for the act." She smiles to try and reassure me. "Let's go back to the Penthouse. Haymitch and Effie are already asleep, so we can both get a good night's rest."
Without a word, we board the elevator and descend a single story. We say goodnight and retreat to our rooms. I lie facedown in my bed and begin to replay today in my mental camera. I don't wait either Katniss or Cato to die, because I really do care about both of them now. Cato is my only friend at this point, and how much of a friend can he be under our circumstance? I pity him so deeply, because even visualizing what he's been through makes my stomach churn until I'm nauseous. Katniss loves Gale. And Gale loves her. I still can't seem to accept that. Before I can assert myself, I'm caught in the weather of another emotional breakdown. I'm so confused, and I feel ripped in half. Between heaving sobs, I question myself. How can I help Cato? How do I treat Katniss now? The Games begin tomorrow and it's inevitable. I don't want to die, but there seems to be no way out of it. The Girl on Fire has burned a hole in my heart, a hole that there is no one else left to fill.