Chapter 15: Two Lies and a Truth

"Well, look at this! Come on up you two, come on up," Caesar says, waving his hand excitedly in our direction.

My body seems incapable of moving as I stare, unblinking, at the screen. This can't be happening. But no matter how many times I shake my head, the image remains the same. This is happening. My eyes flit over towards my team, and I think I make out Haymitch giving me a small nod. I don't even have time to contemplate his lack of surprise. He wants me to move. I swallow thickly.

Slowly, I rise from my seat. I remind myself to hold my head up as Effie said. I have to convince them that this doesn't bother me. This means nothing.

This means everything.

I look to the person moving a few feet away from me. Cato. I almost stumble, the harsh look in on his face sending a jolt up my spine, but I continue walking, hoping that no one can tell how uneasy I am. I force a smile on my face when I reach our host, my partner stepping up beside me.

"What a turn of events this is!" Caesar calls out to the audience, before turning to us. "At the start of these Games, who would have thought you two would be partnered together? Isn't this crazy, folks? District Twelve's Briar Kinross and District Two's Cato Hadley!" The pitch of the audience is hysterical. This is more drama than they could have hoped for.

I take a deep breath to steady myself, trying to loosen the tension in my body. Cato, for his part, looks the picture of ease. He's smirking and his stance is relaxed, but his eyes give him away. He's not happy with this either.

Caesar caters to the audience for a moment longer before becoming serious and saying, "The last arena was full of so many twists and turns. Cato, we saw your dominance at the Cornucopia and throughout the following days, but I have to say, Briar, you really surprised. So many struggles you endured. Such resilience. The muttation, infection, having someone from your own district turn on you… How are you feeling about going back into the arena?"

Angry. Anxious. Nervous. Sick. Everything, but excited.

"It's hard to say, Caesar. I feel like I never left." It's not a joke, but the audience laughs like it is. "But I'm ready. I know that I⎯we⎯can do this." Lie.

"And you, Cato?"

Cato's smirk widens and his relaxed posture disappears. He stands at attention, like he's ready to pounce at any moment. He instantly becomes the threat I know him to be.

"I can't say anything different, Caesar. I'm just as ready to get started. I'm eager to win," he says. He's not lying.

"Now," Caesar pauses, leaning in conspiratorially, "how do you two feel about this partnership? Can we expect you two to put the history aside and work together as a team?"

I glance towards Cato, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. Remembering what Haymitch said about looking indifferent, I give a light shrug and smirk.

"I'm glad to have him on my side, Caesar." Lie. "Cato's worthy competition, and I think I've proven that I'm not going to go down easily either. It'll make winning that much easier," I finish with another smirk. The crowd cheers loudly.

I hope Haymitch is happy. I don't think I can pretend to be much more confident than that.

"Anything to add, Cato?" Caesar asks when the audience dies down.

"I think she's said it all, Caesar. The past is the past. We're both here to win, and I'd say we have a pretty good shot."

"I'd have to agree," Caesar says and the buzzer sounds. "I wish you both the best of luck in the arena. Cato, from District Two and District Twelve's Briar!"

I'm left with a feeling of dread as we walk to the end of the line of tributes, our movements tense despite our fake levity from moments earlier. I've never had to worry about working with someone I didn't like back home. Aside from Mr. Fairbain, there wasn't really anyone I talked to on a regular basis. I didn't have to rely on anyone but myself, but now I do. My life pretty much depends on how well I can work with someone who wants me dead⎯and someone whose death I was actively wishing for just days ago.

The irony of that person being Cato, when Amelia's alliance with his brother resulted in her death, is not lost on me. This is a cruel joke, something to really drive the audience into frenzy. Based on their reaction, I'd say it's working.

Peeta's words from the train echo in my head. 'They just want a good show.'

That's the problem, though. To me⎯to anyone who's ever been in the arena⎯this isn't a show. This is about survival, and if I want to win, I know that I'm going to have to set aside any hatred I feel towards Cato and his brother and actually try to work with him.

But judging by the hard look on his face, the coldness in his blue eyes, I don't know if that's even an option. I don't know how much of what he said to Caesar about the past being the past is true, but I think it's safe to say he doubts I've spoken even a single word of truth. I'd say there's a good chance he was lying as much as I was. He wants this partnership just as much as I do, which means this is going to be even more difficult than I originally thought. I don't know if winning is a possibility now. We might kill each other first.

Standing next to Cato is almost as bad as being in the arena. Actually, it feels exactly like being there. I'm half expecting him to attack me minute I turn my back, but I doubt that'd look good on live television. He doesn't look over to me as we stand beside each other watching the drawing, which has me feeling a small sense of relief. Partner or not, I don't want to show him any weakness. He doesn't say anything either, but I can practically feel the anger rolling off of him in waves. I'm not much better though.

The few minutes that have passed since our faces appeared on screen have lessened my dread and replaced it with a burning sense of outrage. But I don't show it. I just stand there, keeping my eyes on the sparkling lights of Caesar's suit, pretending that I'm perfectly okay. I think I'm doing a pretty good job, because nobody on my team signals for me to do anything or fix my behavior whenever I look towards them.

The fervor in the City Circle has died down a little since the pairing of Cato and I together. It makes sense, considering our "connection" was such a big story before the Games. I take their response as a good thing for now. As much trouble as this alliance could cause me in the arena, it should be beneficial here in the Capitol. It could mean sponsors, which could mean survival, and that's the only thing I care about right now.

I don't see the point in focusing on the other pairs, so I pay minimal attention to the rest of the announcement. Effie will no doubt force me to watch a recap of the ceremony later tonight. I'm eager to find out what people think about this, what they think our odds of winning are. If we manage not to kill each other first, he'll certainly help my chances. That is, of course, unless his arrogance gets in the way. Arrogance can kill in the arena just as much as a weapon or infection, and it's one thing Cato's got in abundance. My stomach tightens when I think about what they might say about me, if they'll say that I'll hurt Cato's chances of winning. There's enough tension between us as it is. I really don't need anymore.

I only start paying attention again when the remaining tributes dwindle down to a small group. There are only four people left now, and when the screen lights up again, it shows the faces of Zeppina and her partner, a boy from Eight named Jute. He didn't do anything particularly noteworthy during the recap and he doesn't look like much of a threat, but he's managed to survive this long, which speaks for itself. I already know not to underestimate Zeppina. She may not be the most immediate threat, but she knows enough about self-preservation to keep her on my radar. And she did get an eight in training.

Of course, their partnership leaves two people standing, and it's this, the final alliance of the night that causes my stomach to turn and my skin to prickle. It's worse than being paired with Cato⎯or it's at least as bad. There's no way this was random. I refuse to believe it. There's no way the odds are this stacked against me.

"Mace and Nerissa, your final alliance of the Quarter Quell and the seventy-fifth Hunger Games!" Caesar cheers, and I internally wince. Even Cato tenses beside me.

They make their way towards Caesar for their interview, but my thoughts consume most of my attention, and I only catch a word here or there. This is ridiculous. It's unfair, but then again, I guess everything about the Games is. The two of them are deadly enough on their own, but together? I don't really see how anyone else can win.

Sure, on his own, Cato is probably the single largest threat in the arena, but now he's tied to me while they have each other. Topaz and the boy from Seven will be dangerous, but it's not the same as Nerissa and Mace being together. They're the only Career partnership, and it consists of two people who no doubt very much want me dead. I probably have a target on my back, but at least people are more likely to wait Cato out until he's gotten weaker over the course of the Games.

Though, on second thought, I don't think that bodes well for me either. I wouldn't be surprised if Cato decided to cut his loses and off me himself. He's arrogant enough to believe he's got a better chance of winning this without a partner.

My head starts to ache with the mere thought of working with Cato and all the repercussions it might have. What will people at home think? Will they hate me for working with a Career⎯especially one so closely connected with Amelia's death? What will Mabel and Mr. Fairbain think? They both told me to try, that I had to come home, but I don't know if they'll think I'm crossing some type of line to do it. I don't want to die. I know that everyone in Twelve understands that. Survival is nothing new to them. But even though I really have no choice in the matter, as I glance at the blond boy next to me-⎯the product of the Capitol and everything we struggle against⎯-I can't help but feel like I'm betraying them somehow.

I can't work with him, but I have to.

Amelia would want me to.

I glance down at the leather bracelet still on my wrist, and I know it's the truth. If she thought there was such a problem with working with them, she would have never allied herself with Careers. She would tell me that he's just a kid, that he can't help what he's been taught. He'll help me get home. It's worth it. But I can't help but feel angry every time I look at him. It's impossible not to think about Amelia and her death. He might not look very much like his brother, but it's impossible to separate them in my mind. He's got all of the qualities his brother displayed-⎯that all of the Career tributes show in the Games: ruthlessness, a lack of humanity, and a thirst for blood and glory. It's ironic, I guess, that out of everyone I know, Amelia would be the one most likely to support me working with Cato, and yet she's the main reason I feel like I can't.

Haymitch is already waiting for me backstage when the announcements end, but I don't approach him when I catch sight of the person he's talking to.

Demetrius.

I bite down on my cheek, trying to prevent the scowl from making its way onto my face. The volume of the room increases as all of the tributes file in and join their teams, and so neither of the mentors notice my presence. Cato, however, doesn't seem content to remain unnoticed. Instead, he saunters⎯-correction, stomps⎯-through the room towards his brother, and everyone makes a path for him.

He stops about halfway there and turns to glare at me. He practically barks, "Are you coming?"

So that's how this alliance is going to go. I roll my eyes, but move to follow him anyway.

The two mentors turn to us when they notice our approach. The look on their faces is difficult to read. I make eye contact with Demetrius, my eyes narrowing slightly as I fight the impulse to look away. I refuse to be afraid of him.

He breaks the gaze a few seconds later, turning to his brother and giving him a small nod. They seem to be having a silent conversation, much like that night on the roof. I can't decipher what any of it means, though, because Haymitch starts speaking.

"You did good out there, kid."

I huff out a breath, glancing at the blond boy beside me before looking back at my mentor. "Thanks," I say. "Let's hope it was enough to get sponsors."

"We'll have sponsors," Cato says, invading our conversation.

I turn to glare at him, but Haymitch grabs my arm and starts leading me to the elevator before I get the chance. "Come on," he says gruffly. "Everyone's already waiting upstairs."

I'm reminded of the Tribute Parade as Haymitch pulls me towards elevator. The only difference is that instead of running away from Cato, he's now trailing behind me. And Finnick Odair is nowhere in sight, which is probably for the better.

The air around us is tense as the car begins to move, none of us saying a single word. The elevator feels too small with the two hulking Careers. Thankfully, they're on the second floor. I don't know if I can deal with them much longer. I'm exhausted, and I just want to go to sleep.

The doors open with a ding, and Cato and Demetrius step out without so much as a parting glance and stalk away. I see Haymitch roll his eyes, and I find myself copying the motion as the doors slide shut once again. It figures they'd act this way. They think that they're better than us because they're from District Two.

The thought of spending time with either of them makes my blood boil as well, but we don't have much of a choice anymore: Whether we like each other or not, we're stuck together. They could at least try to be civil. They're so superior, acting like I'm the one who's done something wrong. I don't know if it's because I'm from an outlying district or because of Amelia, but I know that it's going to get old real quick. Especially considering that between Cato and me, I'm the one who has the right to be angry. He's the brother of my sister's murderer. He's the remorseless killer. And now he's my partner. I swallow thickly when images of Amelia's death pop into my head alongside images of my nightmares⎯-nightmares that resulted in my death instead of hers. My nightmares actually have a chance of becoming reality now. I shiver involuntarily.

I'm so distracted by my thoughts that I move on autopilot, only snapping out of my trance when I hear the high pitch Capitol accent ring through the air.

"You did wonderful, darling. Simply wonderful," Effie says as she rushes over to hug me. "You two are the talk of the Capitol. You are stars. Everyone loves you." Her smile is practically blinding. At least someone's happy about this.

I try to give her a smile in response, but my face protests and forms a grimace instead. Despite this, I'm happy with Effie's approval. If she bought it, maybe everyone else did too.

Effie looks over my shoulder and turns to Haymitch, a quizzical expression covering her overly made-up face. "Where are Demetrius and Cato? There is much to discuss."

Haymitch grunts once before making his way to the dining arena and grabbing a bottle that I'm positive is filled with alcohol. For once I can condone his drinking. It's nice to know we're on the same page in all of this.

Taking a sip from his glass, he says, "We'll meet with them tomorrow. They had some things they needed to discuss." He throws a look my way with that comment, and it doesn't take much to understand his meaning.

Effie harrumphs at the news. "Well, I don't see what they could possibly be talking about besides strategy, which they need us for, but I suppose tomorrow will do just fine," she says as she turns away from us.

I shake my head. Effie doesn't get it. She doesn't understand that they're talking about me. I'm sure both of them realize how much the Capitol loves this type of thing, and now they need to figure out how to best approach the situation. Or maybe they're trying to figure out the best way to kill me without losing sponsors. A shiver runs down my spine. It really could be either choice.

"Are they in this, Haymitch?"

My mentor holds my gaze when I ask the question, but he doesn't speak. I'm frustrated by his lack of response. I don't have time for this.

"Are they going to make this work, or am I on my own? I need to know now so that I can start preparing."

"They're in," he says. "For now."

"For now? What does that mean?"

Haymitch takes another swig from his glass before replying. "It means exactly what you think it means, kid. They have one goal, and one goal only: win. He'll work with you as long as you don't get in the way."

"Or as long as I'm useful," I say.

It's not a question, because I know it's the truth. Cato will get rid of me-⎯maybe even kill me⎯-the second he thinks that this partnership isn't beneficial. Fear twists in my gut, but I shut it down. I will not let myself be afraid of him. I didn't make it this far just for him to kill me.

Haymitch gives a quick nod to my words, his eyes drifting over to the TV at the far end of the room. Effie must have turned it on so that we could watch the recap. I can hear Caesar's loud voice in the background.

"We'll have to play this carefully," Haymitch says without looking at me. "The Capitol would love for him to win, and they already love the two of you together. If you two can manage to not kill each other in the arena, it could be a serious game changer."

A frown tugs at my lips at his comment. Game changer? Does he mean that I didn't have a chance before? That the Capitol didn't want me to win? Haymitch doesn't turn to look at me, though, acting like he hasn't even spoken. I follow his gaze, apprehension overcoming me with the image on screen. Cato and I, side by side, acting like there's no hatred between us. We actually look comfortable in each other's presence, and for some reason, it makes me hate him more.

It suddenly becomes clear to me that this is happening, that I really have to work with the brother of my sister's killer. With the realization comes a crushing weight. My limbs feeling impossibly heavy, my chest feels too tight, and my head begins to spin. I feel something rise in my throat, and for a moment I fear that I'm going to be sick, but the only thing that passes my lips is a laugh. It's a hysterical, manic sound, and it keeps coming. I laugh so much that I have to clutch my sides because they begin to hurt. But I keep laughing. I can't let myself stop. It's either laugh or cry, and right now I don't really feel like crying.

When I finally manage to calm myself down, I notice that both Haymitch and Effie are staring at me. The concern on Effie's face almost starts me laughing again, but Haymitch's expression stops me. He looks understanding, concern and sadness layered beneath it.

"Briar, dear, " Effie says somewhat cautiously. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing… Everything," I say with a sweeping gesture, another snort passing my lips. "This is insane. This can't be real. There's no way in hell that this was random. Seriously, what are the odds?" I ask with another hysterical laugh. "Cato? Really?"

"You know how this works, kid. It's all about the show," Haymitch says. That's not what I hear, though. What I hear is, "of course it's not random. Nothing in the Capitol is."

"This is going to be a nightmare, isn't it?"

Haymitch shakes his head. "That's going to depend on you and him."

Ha! That's a yes then. I send my mentor a look that conveys exactly what I'm thinking.

"I guess it will be harder than last year,having to pretend and all. Not exactly star-crossed lovers, are we? Speaking of them," I say with a look around the room, "where are they?"

"Right here," comes a voice from behind me.

I turn to see Peeta, Katniss, and Cinna exit the elevator. The two lovers look worn out: Peeta's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and Katniss is not even attempting one. Cinna's looks more real, but even he looks a more tense than what I'm used to. I don't know the reason, but it makes my stomach churn. I hope it doesn't have to do with me, but then I remember that they're as much a spectacle in the Capitol as us tributes. But still, it makes me uneasy seeing them like this.

"Everything alright?" I ask, a small frown tugging at my mouth.

Peeta sends me another smile that I'm sure is meant to be reassuring, but ends up looking strained. "Everything's fine," he says, Katniss and Cinna nodding their agreement. Suddenly his face morphs into a look of concern. "How are you holding up? That recap was… It was something."

"You could say that," I say, a sardonic smile making its way onto my face. "I'm fine, though, or I will be."

I applaud myself for how convincing I sound. All the practice in the first round seems to have paid off. Though I have a feeling that working with Cato is going to require my best acting skills yet.

"You and Cato, huh? Those are some crazy odds," Katniss deadpans.

"That's how it's looking," I reply just as flatly. "It shouldn't have been a surprise, though. I think this," I gesture towards the apartment and the city below, "proves that the odds haven't exactly been in my favor lately."

"I know you aren't happy with this, but it could work in your favor," Cinna says from beside me.

Everyone keeps saying that. They forget one important thing though.

"If we don't kill each other first, maybe," I say.

"And why would that happen? You two are partners now," Effie chimes in. I had forgotten she was in the room. Who knew she could be quiet for so long.

We all turn to stare at her. She seems to get the picture after a moment because she nods her head, looking slightly abashed before turning back to the recap.

Everyone chooses to remain silent on my comment. It's probably because they recognize the truth in it. They opt to reassure me that I did well, that the two of us looked good as a team, that you couldn't even tell there was tension. I leave on that note, telling them that I'm not hungry and that I'm going to shower. No one follows.

Sleep doesn't either.

I glare at the clock beside me, willing it to move faster. It just blinks back at me in response, each second ticking by at an impossibly slow pace. I know that sleep is going to elude me, so I throw my feet over the edge of the bed and stand up before pacing around the room. The nervous energy leaks from every pore in my body, filling the air and suffocating me. My view of the city below heightens every feeling of anger, fear, and apprehension that's keeping me awake. I suddenly can't bear to be here any longer. My feet carry me out of the stifling room as quickly as they possibly can, leading me towards the main area.

The room is dark and silent when I enter. It's not unexpected though. Everyone should be asleep by now⎯-I should be asleep by now. The open space provides little comfort thanks to the glass window. The city's lights flash into the room, dancing off the walls, creating an illusion of movement that makes me flinch with every flickering beam. Every glimmer has me primed for an attack.

The feeling of oppression returns full force when I move towards the window. I can't help the anger that surges inside me as I look down below. I'm an animal to these people, caged up and put on display for their entertainment. But along with my hatred, I feel a small sense of relief, even a little power as I watch the flickering lights and the movement below. I can see them, but they can't see me. For a moment, they are ignorant of my presence. For a moment, I'm the one doing the watching. I am invisible to them.

It's only a momentary solace though. There is no escaping their watchful eyes. My very presence here reminds me that no matter how much I try to fool myself into thinking otherwise, it's me who's powerless against the will of the Capitol⎯-it's still me who's been sacrificed for the slaughter.

"Briar? What are you still doing awake?" a voice sounds from behind me.

I startle at the words, whipping around to face the source.

"Jesus, Peeta. Don't sneak up on me like that," I bite out as I try to slow my rapidly beating heart.

Peeta is shadowed in darkness, his face barely visible as the light bounces off his blond hair. I can make out the apologetic look on his face as he comes to join me near the window.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," I say with a wave of my hand, my gaze turning back to the city below. "I was just distracted."

"It's strange, right?" he asks, nodding his head towards the glass. "It's so different from back home."

I nod and say, "It's like a different world out there."

Silence falls over us, both of our eyes transfixed on my prison. Our prison. He may have won, but he's still just as trapped as I am.

"I don't know how I'm going to do it," I say after a moment, the words bubbling up unexpectedly. My comment is quiet, and for a second, I don't think Peeta's heard me, but then he answers.

His brows furrow slightly, and he asks, "Do what?"

My gaze remains focused on the city as I speak. "Go back into the arena," I say. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it all again. Twenty-two more people have to die, Peeta…I barely survived the first time."

"You aren't alone now, though. I know that you hate Cato, but he could help you."

I let out a bitter laugh at his words. Sweet, naïve Peeta, always seeing the best in people.

"We aren't exactly you and Katniss. I can't trust him, Peeta. I'm sure you saw how well that worked out for me in the last arena," I say bitterly. "I should have just listened to Haymitch. I don't know what I was thinking making an alliance."

Peeta doesn't say anything in response. Instead, his eyes flicker over my face, making me shift uncomfortably.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but it helps. I promise," he says.

I open my mouth to tell him that I'm fine, but no sound comes out. My brain won't let me lie to Peeta. Not when he's being so sincere.

Images of Barden and Zeppina and Karn flash behind my eyes, and I bite down on my cheek in an effort to feel something other than the emotions they stir within me.

"I don't want to talk about it," I eventually say, "because if I talk about it, that means I'll have to think about it. And if I do that… that means I'm going to feel something other than anger, and I… I don't know if I can deal with that right now. I need to be ready for the next arena."

Peeta nods his understanding, and says, "I get that, but feeling things other than anger isn't necessarily a bad thing in the Games. It kept me alive."

"Yeah, well, I don't have anyone who's in love with me, and I don't think Cato's exactly a stellar candidate, so not sure that's going to work for me."

"You know that's not what I meant," Peeta says. "I just meant that feeling nothing but anger could be just as dangerous as letting yourself feel other emotions. Anger makes people do irrational things."

"There are a lot of things in the Games that make people do irrational things, Peeta," I say quietly, the memories of Karn lunging for me making me feel cold from the inside out.

"I just don't want what happened in the last arena to get in your way now. I can't imagine what you must be feeling having to work with Cato, but he could help you, Briar. He could be a good partner."

I don't say anything in response. Peeta sighs.

"What happened with Karn wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," I say softly. "I was stupid. I knew… I knew there was something off about him, but I ignored it because he is—was—from Twelve. I killed him, Peeta, and now I'm going to have to go back into the arena and kill more people. If I even want to have a chance of winning, I'm going to have to work with the brother of the tribute that killed my sister."

"You have to separate th—"

"I know that," I say, harsher than intended. I take a steadying breath before continuing. "I know that, believe me, I do. I get that they aren't the same person. I want to make this work, because I want to win. I want to go home. But I don't know how Cato feels, and if he turns against me… I don't have a chance."

"You can't think like that," Peeta says, his voice soft but commanding. "If Cato or his mentors are smart, they'll know that you're an asset. You can make this work, Briar."

"Do you think that I can do it? I want the truth, Peeta. Do you think I can win?"

Peeta stares at me for a moment, and I feel my stomach begin to sink before he speaks. "There are no definites in the Games," he says, "But yes, I think you can win."

I'm once again immensely grateful to have Peeta Mellark as a friend. My worries about the arena are nowhere near gone, but his faith in me makes it more bearable. He isn't one to give out false hope, and so his reassurances are like a balm to my wounds. Things aren't okay, but they're better.

The brief comfort allows me to focus on Peeta's presence; my mind instantly questioning what has him up and wandering around in the middle of the night. A small frown tugs at my lips and I turn my gaze onto the boy beside me.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

His brows furrow at my question. "Why wouldn't I be?" he answers a little too quickly.

That's avoidance if I've ever seen it.

"It's just, you're awake too," I say. "Something keeping you up?"

Peeta lets out a sigh, the weird expression I noticed earlier covering his usually relaxed features.

"I hear talking about it helps," I say.

He chuckles quietly and shrugs. "It's nothing. Just stress. There's a lot to do around here."

"Ah, I see. Wedding pressure. I'm sure everyone here is eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite couple."

"Yeah," he replies, his voice sounding sadder than I've ever heard. "You should try to get some sleep," he tells me after a moment, clearly eager to end the conversation.

I scan over his face once more before slowly nodding. "You too, Peeta."

"I will. See you in the tomorrow."

The next morning, as I had assumed, my entire team, with the exception of Cinna has gathered at the breakfast table. No one says anything to me as I take my seat, all of them too engrossed in whatever conversations they're having at the moment. It's fine by me, because as soon as I sit, the smell of food hits me and my stomach gurgles to life. I remember that I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. I dig in eagerly, all too aware of the fact that I'll spend the next few weeks hungrily scavenging for food-⎯if I manage to live that long, that is.

"Alright, so we've got a few things to go over before you head down," Haymitch says, breaking me out of my morbid thoughts.

"Like what?" I ask. I already know the answer.

My mentor sends me a wry look before speaking. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be careful around the kid from Two. But," he pauses and my body tenses in response to his words, "you have to at least try to seem like you get along."

I swallow and lean back in my chair, willing the tension to exit my body. The familiar buzz of energy settles under my skin. The rest of the table is silent as they wait for my response. They're probably all expecting me to get angry, to protest and say that there's no way I'm going to work with Cato. But that isn't going to happen. Somewhere between the announcement and waking up this morning I came to realize that Cato really is my best option to win, no matter what I think of him or his family. My recklessness is reaching new levels, but I have no other choice.

"Okay," I tell him.

Haymitch's brows furrow for the briefest of seconds before he sends me a hard look. "I'm not playing around, kid. You can't alienate him."

"I know," I say calmly. "I'm not going to."

Everyone looks a little uneasy and a lot suspicious.

I release a sigh. "Seriously, guys. I get it. Cato's a Capitol favorite⎯the favorite. I've seen the odds. He's huge, and deadly, and he's my best chance at making it out of the arena. I want to win, and if working with him is the way to do that, then I'm going to do it."

There's a brief moment of silence before my mentor grumbles out, "Good."

"Is that all?" I ask. I regret the question as soon as it leaves my mouth.

"We have to work out an image for you two," Effie pipes up. "Your history provides a great foundation, and the sponsors already love you, but we need something to really make you stand out⎯-to really sell you to the people. We want all of Panem rooting for you."

"I thought that part was over," I say as I pick at the now cold food on my plate. "There aren't any more interviews are there?"

"No," Peeta chimes in. "But the acting doesn't end just because you're in the arena." He stares at his plate as he says the words, and it takes me less than a second to notice the uncomfortable look on Katniss' face before she, too, speaks.

"You have to appear united in the arena. Nobody will support you if it looks like you and your partner are going to turn on each other."

"Well, we don't have to worry about that. Right, Briar?" Effie asks. "Because we are going to be civil, aren't we?"

The Hunger Games and civility are too contradicting in my mind. I send her a tight smile. "I can't make any promises on Cato's part."

Effie smiles brightly and waves a hand in my direction. "Oh, don't you worry about that. Everything is being taken care of. His team is prepping him to win, just as we are with you."

Unfortunately, that's what I'm worried about.

"And another thing, try to watch what he does in training," Haymitch says between bites of food, clearly ready to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Learn whatever you can from him. If he turns on you, you might know what to expect. And if he's doesn't, well, it can only help in the arena."

Peeta nods and adds, "And remember, this is the Quarter Quell. They're trying to top everything they've done in the past, so expect some curveballs. Anything extra you can pick up in training is beneficial."

Right, ask the killing machine for tips… The guilt from the previous night comes over me for a brief moment. I'm really going to be working with him. Everyone at home might hate me. But I don't feel ashamed⎯-guilty, yes, but not ashamed. I won't let myself feel bad about wanting to survive. I'll deal with everything else if I actually manage to do it. I resolve to learn as much as I can from him in the short time we have to prepare for the second arena. There has to be some benefit to working with Cato, and I'm determined to find it.

Soon enough, it's time to head down. My stomach constricts painfully as I rise from my seat. I quickly push down the mounting panic. I steel myself for what's to come, or at least I try to. Uneasiness continues to churn in my stomach as I wait for the elevator. Suddenly, Haymitch is beside me, distracting me from my thoughts.

My brows pull together when he stops in front of the doors, and I turn to give him a confused look. He's never done this before.

"I have a meeting," he says, as if he could read my thoughts.

"Oh," is all I manage to say in response.

Thankfully the elevator door slides open, effectively ending our conversation. We both step in, and an odd, but not uncomfortable, silence comes over us. The seconds pass by quickly, and then the door is opening again. We're on the second floor, but no one steps into the elevator. I don't have any time to be confused, though, because Haymitch is suddenly stepping out onto the floor. He turns to me before walking off.

"One more thing, kid," he says quietly. "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer." The doors close, and my stomach drops along with the elevator.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

DUNDUNDUN and Cato is her partner... which was most likely 100% predictable, but that's okay. I wonder how it's going to go now that they have to interact on a regular basis...

LetriceDeChoc: I did toy around a bit with the idea of giving her a different partner, but that just convoluted the rest of the plot, so here we are.

FriendlyNeighboorhoodHufflepuff: Sadly, it is indeed Cato lol

Ravenclaw Slytherin: YES SHE IS

SylviaHunterOfArtemis: Were you right? I bet you were (: Glad you're finding it interesting!

WhiteEevee: I can't help it. I love bad puns. Are we really surprised that a Capital man is rude? It's amazing how blind people can be in times of desperation. Sorry about the cliffhanger... or am I?

Thanks for reading! Until next Friday!