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I figured that it wouldn't be hard to convince her and I was correct. When we first appeared at Saylee's door, she shut it in our faces, as if we had shown up to taunt her for not getting chosen. But after Cato pounded on the door for 5 minutes, she opened it again and heard us out. She seemed shocked at what we were saying. No one ever turns down being selected as tribute in our district. Once she believed us she looked grateful, saying that she was terrified to tell her parents that she wasn't chosen, and thanked me for giving her the opportunity to make her parents proud. As if she could last half-a-minute against Cato, please. We talked with Saylee for about 15 minutes until we had a set plan. She would stand the closest to the stairs in the group of 18-year-olds. When our escort asks for volunteers she will run to the stage and say her name quickly as I also make my way to the stage and trip. I will pretend to be mad about not going to the games this year and then Cato will volunteer as already planned.

Cato and I leave her house thanking her as she simultaneously thanks us. The door closes and Cato smiles down at me. I can't believe it. It worked! Cato laughs, picks me up off of my feet and spins me around. "Cato, that was genius!" I giggle. "You gave me the idea!" he responds brightly. That was too easy, I think. Now the plan that Cato and I have had for over a year will work! He will be the victor this year for sure, and next year I can win the quarter quell. There is no doubt in my mind that both of our parents and the district matchmaker will approve of us as a couple after we are both victors! Smiling and on top of the world, Cato picks me up off the ground again and carries me to my house. "I have to go tell my parents that I've been chosen." he tells me as he puts me back down on my feet outside the door. "I'll be back around 6:00." he says with a wink. "And what if I don't want to see you then?" I tease, "Then that will be your loss." he replies with a smirk. I push him off of my porch and go into my house, still smiling.

Thank god my parents are peacekeepers stationed in district 1 and are hardly ever home. 6:00. That gives me 3 hours to decide what I want to do with Cato on his last night with me before the games. For some reason I find myself in the kitchen. I remember overhearing Cato and some of his training friends commenting on girls in school. Saying what a pity it was that the girls who knew how to cook were all preppy wimps. At first I was appalled at how sexist they were, but then I decided to use this to my advantage. If Cato was looking for a girl who knew her way around a kitchen, I could impress him tonight.

While most of my time is spent at school or in the gym, my mom has given me some cooking lessons on occasion. I vaguely remember Cato mentioning something about liking chicken marsala. So while a few hours ago I was covered in sweat and throwing knives at Cato while he dodged one after another, I am now in an apron putting the finishing touches on the chicken and putting the chocolate lava cake in the oven. Yea, not an average teenage girl.

I still have 45 minutes before Cato comes over once the meal is finished, so I go upstairs to change. I carefully choose a matching lacy black thong and bra to put on, before sliding on the new dress I bought especially for tonight. Its a deep purple with an open back and a front that leaves little to the imagination. It may be a tad short, but I won't be leaving the house in it, so it's fine. I slip on some nice sandals (even Cato won't be getting me into heels anytime soon) and decide to even put on some makeup for this occasion. Even after applying mascara, eyeshadow, and a lip stain, I still have 10 minutes before Cato comes over. Its then that I realize I don't have a parting gift for him. I remember watching tributes on tv in past games speaking about receiving tokens from their girlfriend or boyfriend to take to the games. Cato was planning on wearing a thin gold chain necklace his mom had given him, but I knew it didn't mean anything to him.

I rummage through my vanity drawers, looking for something suitable. Earrings are obviously out, as well as all rings, I doubt even the biggest one I own would fit around his pinky. I could always give him a bracelet, but that didn't feel very personal. A picture of us would just get ruined if there was rain in the arena. I walk around my room looking low and high, knowing I only have a minute or so before Cato would be knocking at the front door.

My eyes fall on a small rock next to my bed. Perfect, I think. The stone is a pearly white and is shaped like a heart. Cato had found it for me when we had gone on a date in the woods just outside our town. Our first date. We had both written our names on it, thrilled that we had finally stopped skirting around each other and decided to give dating a try. I smile, thinking about how nervous he looked when he asked me out after training one day. Cato, the ruthless boy who could kill with his bare hands, was practically shaking as he asked me a simple question.

There was no need for him to be anxious. We had been best friends since my first day in the training center, when I earned his respect by throwing a knife that went wizzing by his head, coming within centimeters of his left ear. He had deserved it, seeing as when he looked over at me he had sneered at my small stature. Around 14 I started seeing him as more than a best friend. It was then that our teasing turned to flirting. When he asked me on a date that day, it was all I could do to say, "Sure, where we going?" without jumping up and down and hyperventilating from excitement.

When we got to the date, a little picnic Cato had set up in the woods, neither of us were quite sure how to act. We had hung out together alone countless times since I was 10 (the age they start training kids for the games) so in order to make this day have a different feel to it, Cato had given me a present: the rock.

I scoop it up in my hand and run my fingers over the smooth surface, grinning at Cato's messy handwriting on top of my own neat cursive. I hear three knocks at the door and set the rock down on the table next to my bed. We'll end up in my bedroom anyway.

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