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Chapter 5

When the sun rises in the sky, I am already awake. I have been awake for several hours, dressed in my hunting gear, running my fingers around the lone arrow I like to keep with me. When the clock ticks over seven, I get up out of bed. I am intending to sneak quietly out of the house to training with Peeta and Haymitch. But when I creep downstairs, my mother is cooking something on the stove.

She sees me and I wince. "You're up early Katniss," my mother says with a warm smile.

"I have things to do," I say as casually as I can. "I'm meeting Peeta and Haymitch."

My mother's smile dims slightly. I spend most of my time with Peeta and Haymitch and now that they will be my only lifeline in the games, what other choice do I have? But she seems to have difficulty with the possibility of losing me again. She knows this time my leaving could be permanent.

She stirs whatever's in her pot. "I'm making some porridge. Have some before you go?"

I don't have the heart to tell her no. I need to give her everything I can before I go. "Okay," I say. She puts a bowl in front of me and I tentatively put a spoonful into my mouth. It's thick and gooey but it tastes okay. There is a sugary hint to it that helps me digest it. I have cleaned half the bowl when I start to feel queasy. Crap. The stress is already wracking my body. First, it takes away my sleep and now my ability to eat. I try to make my way to the bathroom as slowly as I can, for surely running would give me away and prompt more questions. My mother would probably try to force feed me some kind of calming stomach brew that she gives to patients.

I just make it to the toilet, spewing out the porridge. It tastes much worse coming up and it wasn't that great before. I gargle intensely for several minutes until the horrible taste is gone from my mouth.

When I emerge from the bathroom, I walk as calmly as I can into the kitchen. I kiss my mother's cheek goodbye and head out the door before she realises I did not finish the bowl.

I knock on Peeta's door and he is already dressed and ready. Haymitch is sitting at the table behind his back, hanging his head in his hands. He doesn't look like he's used to waking up at this hour.

Peeta sees me standing there and grabs Haymitch by the scruff of his collar. "Let's go Haymitch."

Haymitch groans and grumbles and mutters generally intelligible things but he follows me and Peeta outside.

Training is brutal. Peeta pushes us hard. He's the least physically able out of us all and yet he still moves faster than us. I could catch up with him if I wanted, outstrip him by miles but I jog alongside Haymitch, who grunts and breathes heavily as we run. He is clearly suffering from alcohol withdrawal.

Peeta made him give it up, at least for the time being. I knew something was up, when Haymitch was grumpier than usual this morning. He curtly informed me that goody two-shoes Peeta had poured his whole supply down the drain last night after I left. Now, he was to shape up and do his best to help the both of us in what time we had left.

Peeta doesn't mention our conversation from last night. But I have noticed he has developed a whole new side to him. He barks orders at me, yells at me to run faster. When I uncharacteristically miss a target during shooting practice, he goes off at me.

"Alright Peeta, I get it!" I yell back at him. I know he's still angry at me and he's channeling his frustrations for me through this training. But I can't take it. I even feel tears welling up in my eyes – Peeta's never made me cry before. I don't even know why I'm crying either. I can handle yelling, I can even handle the criticism. So why do I cry?

I push back the tears and replace them with rage. I drop my bow and kick it aside and walk away from the two of them. No one follows me. I am done for the day.

The next day, I join them in the morning and neither of them says anything about my meltdown the day before. Peeta is not as harsh as he was before. He does not yell at me to run faster. He does not urge me to use my strength in weights training. In fact, he is downright quiet. He just watches me and I watch him. I want him to say something, even yell at me if that will make him happier but he doesn't.

The next day is Reaping Day. The Capitol is pushing everything through very fast because they want to get rid of me. The quicker the better. Tonight we will be in The Capitol and tomorrow the celebrations for the Quell will officially start. The procession, interviews and the training. We probably won't actually go into the Arena for another couple of days but this is it. The last time I will ever see my family and be in District 12.

Everyone congregates in the square. My name is first predictably, but my stomach still lurches. Prim's hand tightens around mine and I can feel my mother silently sobbing against my other shoulder. It takes them a while to let go of me but I feel their presence leave me. I turn around and I see Gale with my mother attached to him on one side and my sister on the other side. It's like déjà vu.

He jerks his head at the stage. "Go on Katniss." His voice breaks on my name.

I turn away from them and step forward up onto the stage. Effie Trinket is standing there with Mayor Undersee but she doesn't look as excited as she did last time. She smiles but I can tell even she doesn't want to send me back in. Then Haymitch's name is called. Peeta steps forward automatically, volunteering like I knew he would. Haymitch falls back in line and I can see him looking at me, even from where I stand. I fix him with a fierce gaze, hoping that he hasn't forgotten what he promised me. He gives a small nod.

We are whisked off the stage and I expect for us to hold our goodbyes. I purposely didn't say anything to Prim or my mother this morning, knowing I could not afford to break down before the reaping. But instead, we are shuffled to the train station, Peeta, Haymitch and me. I open my mouth, to ask what's going on but we are shoved inside. The door closes and the words on my lips are gone. The train jolts and I realise Snow has done this on purpose. Taken away my goodbyes, my home, just to break me even further.

In a reflex reaction, I grab at Peeta's hand. His grip is reassuring. But then I realise we are not really talking to each other. I can see Peeta's face contort into surprise but he still squeezes my hand tightly back.

Effie emerges from somewhere. "Let's go and get comfortable. It's going to be a long night."

I retreat to my room, and it's a different one to the one I previously destroyed. I remember Haymitch's warning to not do anything so reckless again and I curl up in the bed alone. I might've asked to Peeta to join me if he were actually speaking to me. But he's still keeping his distance. As soon as we came inside, he let go of my hand, like my touch could burn him. I know that when we enter The Capitol, we will have to continue the charade and he will have to put up with me.

Somehow I manage to fall asleep. But it seems like it's only a minute before Haymitch is waking me up. He shoves me hard and I nearly fall out of bed. "Get up," he barks.

"I'm getting, I'm getting," I mutter, standing. I feel light headed for a moment, so much so I even sway on a step. Haymitch's hand darts out and grabs mine. "Are you okay?" he asks immediately.

"Fine, fine," I mutter.

The parade has been hastily organised for tonight. We will be marched out in front of The Capitol and Snow will declare the Games have started. Tomorrow, we will have train all day in the center. The next we will be scored by the gamemakers. The day after that we will be in the arena.

When I step off the train with Haymitch, my prep team swarms down on me and takes me forward. They prod and yank at me and there is none of the light make up from the tour. They make sure that I am unrecognisable, sharpening my cheekbones and making my eyes practically smolder. I wonder what Cinna has in store for me, based on all this makeup that makes me look threatening.

There is none of their usual hyper, fast paced chatter. Instead they look as though they will cry. At one point, Octavia rushes from the room. I know they are crying because of me. Because of me and Peeta. I feel a burst of affection for them – my silly, shallow prep team, who cry at the thought of me having to go back into the arena.

Finally Cinna arrives and he engulfs me in a hug, careful not to smudge my makeup. I do not cry, because I've had enough of tears and everyone else's tears. I must accept my fate, accept I cannot change this and do my best to make sure Peeta is the victor.

"Don't cry," I order him, but the authority in my voice is muffled by his chest.

He doesn't. He doesn't even speak until he's trying to zip up the black, fitted bodysuit he's designed. It comes to life, like most of his designs, flickering like golden embers.

"That's strange," Cinna mutters.

I try to turn my head without moving my body. "What is?"

"The suit's a little tight. I made it to the measurements of all your other clothes."

"I probably put on weight in The Capitol," I say. "They force feed us most of the time." Cinna shrugs and manages to get the zipper up finally after I suck in. Now that I think about it, I didn't eat much on the cancelled tour or since we arrived today. But I shrug this off.

He applies the finishing touch to my assortment of braids and spins me around so he can look at me. "Now remember, don't pay any attention to them, okay? Act like they're completely beneath you."

"That I can do," I reply, trying to not show how uncomfortable I am in his overly tight costume.

He kisses my forehead goodbye. "Go on girl on fire. Show them what you're made of."

I head down to the Remake Center, where the chariots and horses have gathered, ready for the opening cermony. When I get there, I see that Peeta and Haymitch haven't arrived. I look around and unlike last year, the tributes seem open to socialising with each other. I haven't met any of them and I'm not sure I want to. Getting to know them will ultimately make it harder to kill them. I recognise most of them from previous games though and from Flavius running through their names earlier.

I stand next to the chariot that Peeta and I will use, stroking the horse's head. I hope that if I seem invested in the horse or in my own thoughts, no will bother me.

It doesn't work.

"Hello Katniss."

"Hello Finnick," I reply coolly, keeping my eyes focused on the horse's mane as I stroke it. I don't have to look up to know that the low, sensual voice has fallen from Finnick's lips.

It's not a stretch to say that Finnick Odair is the one of the most desirable people in Panem. Tall, with ruffled bronze hair and sea green eyes that no doubt have melted the hearts of many, Finnick was a living legend. One of the youngest ever victors at fourteen, he was turned into a national hearthrob. By sixteen, he was coming and going from The Capitol with a new lady on his arm every time.

If someone tells you that Finnick Odair is not attractive, they're lying. When I finally look up, to see if he's still there, I see him up close. He has teeth so white that they're dazzling when he smiles like he is right now. Hell, even I think he's gorgeous. But there's something about him that throws me off. Maybe it's the string of Capitol women.

"Did you want something Finnick?" I ask impatiently after a while. He walks around me and though I am fully clothed, I feel exposed. The way Finnick's mouth curls into a smirk and the lids of his green eyes drop a little makes me think of him imagining me naked for some reason.

"Not really," he says, stretching. He opens a hand to me. "Sugar cube?"

Finnick steps right behind me and I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. He's close. Too close. My only hope is that Peeta or even Haymitch make a quick arrival and I can get Finnick away from me.

"No thanks," I answer in mock politeness. "I'd love to borrow your outfit though."

He's wearing a fishing net strategically knotted at his groin so his outfit is basically nothing. His chest is puffed out, bronzed and muscular and I'm sure the reasoning behind the clothing choice was to allow the audience to get as much as Finnick as possible.

He snorts. "I'm sure Peeta would love that." There's an edge of sarcasm to his voice and I know then that Finnick is one of those that doubt my love for Peeta. He probably sees me through me because he's been in my position before. He knows what it's like to be in the games, to do whatever you can to survive.

I look away from him and stare straight ahead. Where is Peeta? I wish he would just show up already. It's only been a couple of minutes but I've had enough Finnick to last me a lifetime.

"That dress is…truly terrifying."

I want to ignore him but that would probably give him an mental edge on me that I will not allow. I decide to engage in his banter, even flirt a little, because I want to show him and everyone else that I will not be intimidated. I may be young still but I will not go down until I have ensured Peeta is the victor.

"You don't seem too scared," I comment, flexing my fingers.

"I'm shaking on the inside," he quips back. He hoists himself up onto my chariot and his hand ghosts over the small of my back as he passes me. I jump and he simply smirks down at me.

"Where is your lover anyway?" he asks, looking around. "He shouldn't leave the girl on fire alone. She might burst into flames." He winks and jumps down in a single, smooth movement and I wonder what caused his sudden exit. Then I see Peeta emerge from the other side. I hop up onto the chariot and offer him my hand. I help him up since his mechanical leg makes it difficult for him to do it by himself.

He's wearing a matching outfit and his blond hair has been slicked back elegantly. I swear they've put some makeup around on his long eyelashes because his blue eyes are practically popping out of his face.

"What did Finnick want?" he asks.

"He wanted to offer me a sugar cube," I say flatly. "And his outfit if I ever wanted it."

Peeta leans over the railing of the chariot, searching the room for Finnick. His face splits into a grin as he looks back at me.

"Not such a bad idea actually," he gets out with a laugh.

I am quick to elbow him firmly in the gut. "Peeta!"

He dissolves into a laughing fit, clutching at his stomach, and a much gruffer, lower chorus of laughter joins him. I look down and see Haymitch standing near Peeta's feet, leaning against our horse.

"Shut up Haymitch," I say automatically, though I'm smiling. It seems everything's back to normal. Or is just an act for the Capitol? I hope not. I hope Peeta's realised our time is short, and that we shouldn't waste it fighting with each other.

"Oh relax sweetheart. It was a compliment," he says, patting the horse. "Now remember, no smiling, no waving." In a lower voice, he says, "Just pretend you hate The Capitol."

"No pretending here," I mutter as I take Peeta's hand. We weren't given an instruction this year to hold hands but considering I am planning to give my life up for him, I do it without hesitation. And he doesn't say anything.

When it's finally over and we are back in the training center, we can relax. Peeta drops the hard expression from his face and softens into his own appearance. I catch sight of Haymitch conversing with the tributes from District 11 but I am too tired to join them. Attendants herd us toward the elevators and we hop in. The door starts to close before someone jumps and joins us at the last second. She's a tribute I recognise, one from only a few years ago who won by pretending she was a weakling. She fluffs up her short, spiky brown hair and smiles when she sees us. It's a smile I don't believe.

"Ugh," she groans, tearing off her leafy headdress. Being from District 6, the lumber district, her stylist's inspiration clearly was to dress her up as a tree. She rips a couple of leaves that hang off of her silver dress before slipping out if completely. My eyes widen and I look away instinctively. I see Peeta's eyes bug out of his head and I want to hit him again.

Johanna Mason, the female tribute from District 6, who I've never had any contact with in my whole life, has just stripped down in front of Peeta and I. And when I say stripped down, I mean that there is not a single stitch on her body except for her thin, skin coloured scandals.

"Stupid dress," she says, prodding at it with her shoe. "My stylist is an idiot." She looks my way and I feel rude not looking back at her. But I make sure I keep my eyes on hers. "Cinna's a genius. Wish I'd gotten him."

"Yeah, he's good," I say casually. I'm not the best socialiser normally and Johanna being naked is only adding to me being even more uncomfortable.

Johanna doesn't say anything to me after that. She spends the whole elevator ride talking animatedly with Peeta while I keep my eyes drilled ahead. I try to tune out as much as I can but I hear pieces of their conversation. Johanna rags on the District 1 tributes and the dress Cashmere was wearing. Peeta talks about the desserts in The Capitol and about his frosting skills. This brings a smile to my face. Peeta must see it because he slips his hand in mine.

Even when Johanna steps off, Peeta doesn't let go of my hand and I don't let go of him. He's all I have left of District 12, of my family and I want to hold onto him as long as I can.

"Considering you're the love of my life," I say sarcastically, "You could have least pretended not to stare at her the whole time."

He chuckles softly and I am glad that the tension from our days of training seems to be gone. He still hasn't let go of my hand when he leans over to whisper in my ear, a move reminiscent of Finnick. "Jealous?"

"No," I respond but I am jealous. Even if Peeta's not really mine, he's supposed to be. And there's that whole other side of me that doesn't know how to work out what I feel for him.

He straightens. "You know I never see other girls." I know he's telling the truth. He said as much when we were in the cave, that no matter how many other girls he looked at, none of them stuck with him like I did.

The elevator door opens and we are greeted by a tense looking Effie and an awfully relaxed Haymitch.

"You guys did so good," Effie says with a tight smile. "You should rest up. It's gonna be a big day tomorrow." She tries to inject some enthusiasm into her words but there's something off about her voice. Maybe the strain of these Games is taking its toll on her too.

"Head to bed guys," Haymitch says with a wave. He stumbles away down the hall, towards his room.

Peeta finally lets go of my hand and yawns. "Goodnight Katniss." He begins to follow after Haymitch but my hand darts out of its own accord and grabs him.

"Peeta?" He turns around, a mild surprise on his face. "You could…..you could stay with me tonight if you want."

I am being selfish asking him of this. I am taking advantage of his feelings for me. But I can't even bring myself to care. I need him to stay with me, because I do not want to be alone in my last moments of free will. My last moments before I become just another piece in these Games.

Like I knew he would, Peeta agrees. And I take his hand once again and lead him to my room.