Thissssssss is one of my least favorite chapters. (Please read it anyway.) I really struggled at first with the character dynamics and I think you can tell. If you can believe it, my first draft was worse, and I more or less had Prim acting as Katniss's therapist throughout the entire book. Now at least they sort of act like sisters.

It's late and it's dark, but I lay awake. Prim, next to me, is also awake, but she's not tossing and turning like I am. Her vigil seems more or less peaceful. I wonder what she's thinking about. I doubt it's the same thing that's on my mind.

My brain has betrayed me. Gale's stupid interview plays and replays in my head, charmingly followed by a hundred situations where he dies and Madge lives. Now that the idea is in my head, it's taken root and I can think of nothing else.

The pain at Gale loving someone else- the jealousy- seems so far away now. Who cares if he's courting Madge? It matters much more than he comes home alive, and now even that seems impossible.

If I was someone else, I might cry. But I never cry. However, Prim- who, under some circumstances, seems to be able to read my mind- rolls over. "Katniss?"

"Yes?"

Personally, I don't feel like talking. But for Prim, I will do anything.

"I thought you might be awake."

"Lots to think about," is all I say.

"I just can't believe it. Gale and Madge!" she continues. "It just doesn't make any sense, you know?"

"It surprised me too, at first." And by 'surprised' I meant 'made me want to vomit'. "They're very different, aren't they?"

It's too dark to see, but I hear the rustle of the pillowcase as Prim nods. I kind of hope she'll stop talking now, but she doesn't. "You know, all this time, Katniss, I kind of thought Gale might be carrying a torch for you."

I wince. "I guess not."

She means well, and it's not her fault that it stings so badly. I never told her about my hope for Gale and I- that hope that seems so childish and stupid now, and yet, I find that it hasn't gone away.

I could tell her now, I suppose. But what's the point? Why tell Prim how I care for Gale when I'll never get the chance to tell him? Because he's never coming back. Not alive, at least.

Ah, and there's the part I was trying to forget. I fight the urge to tug the blankets over my head and sob like a child. It's not over yet, I tell myself. Something could change.

It is true that you never know what will happen in the arena. But I don't see that as much of a comfort. In general, surprises are bad. And there's nothing I can do to change that either.

§

I lay awake for hours, long after Prim, peaceful, innocent, and twelve, has drifted off. At least my tossing and turning isn't causing a problem for anyone else. When I finally do fall asleep, it's far from restful. My dreadful imagination has given me a hundred new bad things to dream about.

I awake in an empty bed, long after dawn, when I normally rise. Shit. I scramble out of bed and change into hunting clothes as quickly as I can. I've missed prime hunting time- by several hours, I would guess- but squirrels tend to be active during the day, and some birds. Oh, what am I going to tell the Hawthornes if I come back with nothing?

I'm so distressed that I don't notice the voices coming from the kitchen. I rush in like a human hurricane, still shoving my left boot onto my foot, but I freeze when I realize we have a guest. Peeta is here, eating scones and drinking tea with my mother and sister. Something I would definitely refer to as a surprise.

I guess, not that surprising. He's here fairly often. But it's been roughly a week since I've seen him- in fact, I have deliberately avoided seeing him. Looking at him now, though, I find I'm no longer angry with him. In fact, I can hardly recall why I was angry with him in the first place. However, this is still not a good time to see him, because I am running very late.

My foot clunks to the floor, boot still hanging around my ankle. Despite not being openly pissed at Peeta anymore, I still manage nothing friendlier than, "What?"

"Katniss!" Peeta exclaims at the same time Prim says, "We thought you were hunting!"

They must have gone out on healer business this morning, if they hadn't noticed I never left. "Obviously I'm not," I grumble. "I overslept. I'm going out now."

"Wait, can I talk to you for a minute?" Peeta asks. He's already scrambled up from his chair, abandoning his scone and tea.

"If you can walk and talk." I jam my foot into my boot and am out the door before he can say another word.

I'm not sure if I expect him to follow me or not, but he does. I can hear that he's out of breath from catching up; I am power-walking quite rapidly. I don't slow down for him. I did say "walk and talk", after all.

"I'm not going to demand an apology from you," Peeta says. Probably a good call. "But I don't want us to keep avoiding each other, either. I think we should just…forget last week."

"Already forgotten," I reply. I mean it almost literally; honestly, I have hardly thought about Peeta since I shouted at him after the Reaping. I wince a little as the memory surfaces now, and I decide forgetting is still the best course of action. "A fresh start. Good. But for what it's worth…"

"Don't," he says simply. "I know I'm the smallest problem right now."

As always, Peeta is very perceptive and very kind. Despite growing up in a semi-literal house of horrors, his emotional intelligence is off the charts. Not to mention, we've known each other for so long I'm fairly certain he can read me like a book.

"Thank you," I say, and I hope he knows it's for more than not making me produce the words "I'm sorry" in this trying time. It's for being the first to reach out, even though I realistically owed him that, and even bringing food for my family on a morning I failed to provide.

Just like we agreed, he moves on. "I saw the interviews last night."

"Me too." I avoid his eyes as I duck under the electric fence- it's inactive, as usual.

I assume we will part ways here, but Peeta follows me under the fence as if it's a normal thing for him to do. "Gale and Madge, huh?"

A valid question. I know he didn't know about them. Still, it irks me just to think about them, the prophecy of self-sacrifice and Madge's tearstained face. I don't want to start another fight, though, so I just say, "Yep."

"I expected you'd have more to say on the subject than 'yep'."

There is lots I could say, but little that I care to share with Peeta. Or anyone, really. I will suffer in relative silence like a god damn adult.

"You know, I always thought…you and him…"

"Does it really matter?" I snap. "Who he's going out with? I don't care about any of that. All that really matters is he survives, and I can't do a damn thing about that!"

I think Peeta can tell he's touched a nerve, but as usual, he doesn't flinch. "There is one thing you can do."

"Anything short of trekking across the country and assassinating the Gamemakers?"

"You could sponsor him."

I laugh. I can't help it. "That's just as far-fetched. You have to be from the Capitol to sponsor!"

"No you don't!" he insists. "Remember, two years ago? District Seven sent their kid a hatchet?"

I do remember that. But I had never considered that as a possibility for myself. "That was an entire district. I could never-"

"Sure you could!" Peeta interrupts. "You're cleverer than most. And you're one of few who has an outside income! And it wouldn't just be you."

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues. "Prim would help. Gale's family would contribute, if they could. And me- well, if I sold my bakes instead of bringing them to you…"

"You would do that?" I ask, already knowing the answer. Peeta would never offer something insincerely- he's exceedingly good and kind. "You don't even like Gale."

"I wouldn't be doing it for Gale."

Ah, another reason Peeta is a better person than me. The part of me that hates debts and owing people screams a little, but at the same time, I can't feel anything but grateful. With the possible exception of hope.

Maybe Peeta's right. Maybe it is possible. Unfamiliar optimism rises in me, and my brain is already running wild, calculating the limits to which I can push my hunting trips, pushing the boundaries of how much my family can go without. If I hunt from dawn to dusk…if we eat nothing but goat cheese and dandelions…surely we can raise enough money to buy something for Gale.

I've already said it: a good sponsor can mean the difference between life and death. Here's my chance to make that difference for Gale. Finally, in the smallest, most far-reaching way possible, I have control again.

"Peeta, you're brilliant," I tell him, and I fully mean it. "I'll start saving up right now- well, after I feed us for the day, I guess."

"Need help?" he asks. Again, one-hundred-percent sincere. "I've got the afternoon off."

I consider this. On one hand, Peeta is useless with a bow and even worse at moving through the woods quietly. On the other hand, I've missed my chance for large prey, so it will most likely be more of a "gathering" day anyway. Peeta can gather without doing any damage.

I tell him as much, and his replying smile makes me feel bad for even considering telling him to leave. I grab my bow out of its secret spot and hold it at the ready just in case something jumps out on our way to the spot.

If we weren't starting so late, I'd want to go to the lake, but that's such a long trek. I'll have to go soon- I'm already planning my hunting routes in my head, deciding what will bring the highest yields and greatest profits. If you can get past the walk, the lake is a great place to hunt. There's fish, katniss tubers (which is how I got my name), and watercress, all things that rarely make it to the market at home. I could make a hefty profit from a haul like that.

But today, I will have to make do with the raspberry patch, wild grapes, and whatever herbs we can find along the way. Most herbs I collect go to my mother and her apothecary, but some I can sell to the townspeople. We're the poorest district with no output except coal- most of us are desperate for a little seasoning.

Turns out Peeta has a wonderful eye for that sort of thing. He can spot a sprig of thyme from a mile away, and by the time we reach the berry patch, I've already got several handfuls of greenery tucked into my pocket. Even with the late start, this day could turn out profitable after all.

"You probably shouldn't be showing me this," Peeta says seriously. "What if I become a threat to your business?"

"I'll just cut your father off from squirrels and watch the problem go away," I retort.

"I don't know; I don't see any squirrels in that bag today…"

"Well, you must have scared them off with your giant oaf footsteps."

"Are you sure it's not simply your lack of skill?"

I reach over and pretend to thwack him with my bow. It's incredible, the effect someone like Peeta can have. Not an hour ago, I was lost and unreasonably angry, and now I'm laughing again and moving forward with purpose. I feel better than I have all week. All because of my friend who apparently has triple my common sense.

Of course, I'm still keenly aware of the situation. Gale is still in serious danger, whether our long shot of a sponsorship quest succeeds or not. And I am severely repressing the likelihood of Gale not coming back alive of his own choosing. But that part is out of my control. Now that I have something I can work towards, I feel so much lighter, and I'm allowed to laugh.

We fill my game bag with fruit and herbs, and on the way back to the district, a squirrel does jump out. I draw back and shoot within seconds, nailing it right in the eye like I always do. Peeta claps for me, and I look back smugly. I check the snare lines and retrieve a rabbit that's probably only half-grown, but it's something to eat. I clean both the animals, and finally, long after noon, we return home.

"Mom left," Prim says as soon as Peeta and I step inside. "One of the merchant kids burned his foot, dropping hot food. It sounds nasty so she made me stay back."

I wince. Mother and Prim are both healers; that sort of thing doesn't bother them. But I've never had the stomach for it. Give me a dead animal's guts any day. "You didn't need to tell me that."

Prim shrugs.

"I wonder if it was Rye," Peeta muses, naming one of his two older brothers. "That seems like something he would do."

I just shrug. I don't know Rye well enough to say that sounds like him or not. Even though I've known Peeta for half a decade, I've only spoken with his family a few times- outside of official bakery/trading business, of course. We don't spend much time at his house; we're always at mine. Mainly because his mother is a raging bitch.

Prim eyes my extra-full game bag. "Is that all for us?"

I shake my head. "Almost none of it's for us. Some of it will go to the Hawthornes, and some I'll sell and put the money towards sponsoring Gale."

Prim gasps, and at first I'm worried she's upset about the upcoming small dinner, but then I realize she's just excited. "Sponsoring Gale! That's a great idea! I can't believe I didn't think of it!"

"It was my idea," Peeta clarifies.

"I should have known," my sister says admiringly. "Well, can I help?"

"I don't know exactly what you-"

"I can sell cheeses!" she exclaims. "And I'll be the one who keeps everything organized- so we can make the most money!"

And now we are a "we". I think this is a good thing.

Prim begins to paw through my bag, and I let her take the lead. The produce and game is divided into three piles, one for us, one for the Hawthornes, and one for the market. Peeta bids us goodbye, but he promises to bake a batch of muffins to sell for the cause. I hug him before he goes out the door. I hope it communicates what I really mean: mainly, thank you.

I go to the Hawthornes' first. Before I can apologize for my late arrival, Hazelle has wrapped me in a hug and insisted I come inside. Uncomfortable with this development but unsure of how to get out of it, I stand awkwardly on the rag rug while she chatters on.

"I'm just so worried about him," she confesses. "It was so good to see his interview last night…but him and Madge! I had no idea!"

I wonder how many times I will hear a variation of that sentence before I flip a table. I just grind my teeth a little right now. "They couldn't risk the Undersees finding out. Until…"

"But you knew, didn't you?"

I just nod; I don't trust my voice right now.

"You've always been such a good friend to him," Hazelle tells me, almost tearfully. "And now you're being so good to our family. What would we do without you, Katniss?"

Aaaaaaand I am being hugged again. I really am not a hugger, but I grin and bear it. Fortunately she lets me go pretty quickly. Now her face is sad- I guess I can understand; my moods have been all over the place too.

"I really just thought…given everything the two of you have been through…Gale would end up with you."

That one is getting old as well. I think Hazelle notices my grimace, but she goes on anyway. "You certainly have more in common, don't you?"

Well, she's not wrong. Gale and I are almost unnervingly alike in looks and temperament and worldview. But, Madge has her assets too: she is super-hot and rich.

"Well, they say that opposites attract," I say, although I have, for a long time, thought the same thing: by all logic, I would be the better mate.

But I refuse to dwell on it. I decided this morning that those thoughts aren't helpful, and nothing has changed since then. I need to focus on what I can do, and that is sponsor Gale.

I tell this to Hazelle, hoping it will effectively change her topic, and it does. But it backfires when she bursts into tears and throws her arms around me again. How many times must I be hugged today?

I squirm away as quickly as I can and point to my game bag quickly. "I, um, need to get to the market before dinner. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Thank you again, dear." I think she's moving in for another hug, but then we both hear her two younger sons bickering from the other room, and I take my opportunity to slip out the door.

Maybe I can have Prim drop off their food from now on.

I hate writing the Hawthornes. Luckily I think they only show up like 3 more times in the rest of the book?