INTERVIEW CHAPTER! This was a lot of fun but also very difficult. I don't have the charisma to write Caesar Flickerman so it's all kind of bad.

I've seen the stage and the auditorium before, on TV. It didn't impress me all that much then, but in real life, it's an entirely different story. Even the backstage area, where all twenty-four tributes are packed in and waiting, is dripping with luxury. Plush seats line half the walls, with overloaded snack tables that I'm too nervous to visit dominating the other half.

It's an intimidating venue, and I am grateful for Peeta, sticking close to my side. Many of the other tributes are socializing- Turquoise seems to have started a game of Spin the Bottle, which the Capitol attendants are graciously ignoring- but I much prefer to keep the company of my district partner alone.

We won't be on for a while- as usual, Peeta and I will be last and second-to-last to go. I hope in vain that means the audience will have mostly cleared out by the time I take the stage, but I know that won't be the case. The Capitol eats shit like this up, and after the tribute parade, there will be people who want to see the kids from District Twelve, specifically. Thank God for Cinna, who I know to be in the center of the third row, clearly visible from the chair opposite Caesar's. If I freeze up- which is a very real possibility- I'll be able to look to him.

I don't know if it was planned, but Peeta and I are dressed complementarily. As expected, he is in a suit, black with red lapels that match my red dress. He even has flames stitched onto his cuffs, calling back to our costumes from just a few days ago. His look might not be as "in-your-face" as mine is, but Peeta is definitely on fire too.

We've hardly said a word to each other, since they stuck us in this waiting room after the stylists dressed us. After Caesar- yes, the Caesar Flickerman- pokes his head backstage and informs us we have five minutes until show time, we both get even quieter. Nerves, I'm sure, coming in waves for the public speaking and the twelve-hour (if that) countdown before we're thrust into the arena. At the moment, I'd probably take the arena, but I replay Cinna's words in my head and try to find them comforting.

Our comfortable bubble of quiet is burst by Turquoise jogging up to us. She's wearing a dress reminiscent of a peacock and I note that her hair is the exact same blue-and-gold color it was before. She's undeniably pretty, but when you know someone is crazy, that stuff ceases to matter.

She's panting when she reaches us. I assume she's either faking or there's a really snug corset under that peacock dress, because there's no way the girl who scaled the rock wall in under twelve seconds is winded from a ten-second jog. I've seen her abs. Everyone has, because during lunch on day three of training, she cut out a heart-shaped piece of her jumpsuit to show her belly button.

"Hello, Turquoise," I say flatly. I look past her and at the game of Spin the Bottle she'd started, which seems to have dispersed. I wonder why she's here and assume it's something bad, or some kind of malicious dare from Storm- if she would ever lower herself to participate in something like that, of course.

It's not. For once, it is good news. "Kat-Kat, Peter." Turquoise copies my sour tone and face before cheering up for the next sentence. "We've decided we want you in the group! Welcome to the Careers!"

I don't believe her at first, but I crane my neck to get a look at Nolan, in a black dress shirt and gray vest, and he gives a thumbs-up. Still, I feel the need to ask again. "You…you do?"

"Well, yeah, that's what I just said, isn't it?" Turquoise asks. She doesn't wait for me to respond. "So here's the plan…"

Peeta and I both listen with rapt attention as she lays out the Career pack's initial strategy, and the roles we are expected to play. For a moment there, she is actually making sense, but it doesn't last long. She claps her hands three times and spins in a circle. "I gotta get to my interview! See ya!"

She flounces onstage, where she is greeted with uproarious applause. Peeta puts his head in his hands. "They should have called her Storm."

I nod along somewhat weakly. "Do you think this is some kind of trap?"

"Probably not. If they wanted to kill us, they could just kill us."

I hate when Peeta is cynical. Especially when he's also right. "I guess that makes us Careers, then."

"Haymitch will be pleased."

"Not if my interview goes as bad as I think it will."

Regardless of how worried I am about my interview, it won't happen for a while. For now, we settle on two of the plush chairs to pay attention to everyone else's interviews. The strategic part of my brain is ticking, eager to sort out these people who don't make sense.

Of course, when you're talking about people who don't make sense, Turquoise is at the top of the list. Her angle is 'zany'. Whether that's a calculated decision or simply because she's incapable of producing anything else, I do not know. It's working for her, though. She has Caesar and the audience eating out of her hand, possibly because they are all so zany themselves. When she compares Caesar to a tropical bird, everyone in the live audience bursts out laughing, and I'm sure a chuckle goes around the whole of the districts as well- I've thought Capitol citizens look like birds for a long time now, but I've never had the opportunity to say it to one's face.

Caesar takes it well (I don't know if he even considers it an insult) and they end up demonstrating bird calls for the rest of the interview. Turquoise is oddly good at it, but her last one is just her humming a few notes of a song I don't know.

"Well, what is that supposed to be?" asks Caesar, who has so far correctly identified every call she's made so far.

"That's a Mockingjay call!" Turquoise replies triumphantly. "It can be anything!"

More applause, more laughter. I'm almost annoyed (probably a little jealous, too) at how well she's doing, but fortunately, the buzzer goes off, indicating her time is up. Turquoise gathers her peacock skirt into one hand and uses the other to wave to her new flock of adoring fans. Talk about someone who'll be drowning in sponsorships.

Thunder is next. He does not have Turquoise's effortless control of the audience, but he's very polite, which I'm sure Effie would love. I'm glad she's not allowed backstage with us, to tell us how we should be so much more like him.

The crowd seems to like Thunder, but they love Storm. I'm really not sure why. She barely hides her disdain for them, glaring daggers into the audience every couple sentences. Caesar calls her fierce, which is true, and "deeply kind underneath", which is not. Storm maintains that her strategy is 'to win' and she will not accept less than first place. Haymitch would like her, I think. She has picked an angle and stuck with it, and I'm sure she will keep playing "cocky" the entire time she's in the arena.

I have no plans of letting her take first place, though.

Nolan wins over the audience, too. He's Career all the way through- I'm sure he and the rest of them have been coached on winning over the cameras since they were Prim's age or younger, but still, he makes it look effortless. He comes off as a charming playboy, making Caesar laugh and the women in the audience swoon. It just irks me. I'm aware that Nolan is attractive- I'm cynical, not blind- but for some reason, I'm immune to his charms. I will not make the mistake of underestimating him, though.

"And Nolan, what do you think of your district partner, Miss Talisman?" asks Caesars. He's used this question in every interview so far, reminding everyone that this is the Quarter Quell and rules are different. So far, every answer has been interesting.

Nolan chuckles. "Well, I'm definitely glad we're on the same side."

I flash back to Storm shredding training dummies and threatening to kill Peeta and I in our sleep. Yeah, I'd want her on my side too. I guess, for now, she kind of is, but I'm fully aware alliances like ours don't last forever. Sometimes, they don't even last a day.

"She's very talented, obviously. Not to mention a looker!" Nolan winks roguishly at the crowd. "I do get the impression, though, that she doesn't like me as much as I like her."

One of the dozens of cameras pans to Storm, who is watching from the front row now that her interview is done. Her deep scowl indicates that Nolan is correct.

"I find that hard to believe, Nolan, because you're incredibly likable!" Caesar declares. "Who here agrees with me?"

The crowd goes wild. They're all shrieking and blowing kisses, which Nolan animatedly pretends to catch. Yes, they love him. Yes, that's a bad thing.

The buzzer goes off and Nolan takes a dramatic bow. He goes to take his seat next to Storm, and as soon as he's offstage, his face sinks back into seriousness. That's the way I know him- that, I assume, is the real Nolan.

Peeta leans over to me as the girl from District Three settles down across from Caesar. "Think we can compete with that?"

"Me…definitely not," I say decisively. "You have a chance, though."

He laughs. He knows he's better with words than me. "You think so? You definitely had the better coach."

"Trust me, it doesn't get worse than Haymitch," I snort.

Peeta seems to disagree, but neither of us wants to swap stories from our interview coaching this morning. I don't think rehashing it will do me any good; the word 'hopeless' will not help me.

After the Careers, the interviews blur together. Backstage slowly clears out, until there are more attendants than tributes. Until it's just Peeta and me. Emmer from Eleven takes the stage, the only thing between me and the interview I don't want to give. I have three minutes left to prepare myself. For a moment I think I'm going to die.

Peeta hovers near me, as I hover at the gap in the panels that leads to onstage. I don't think he wants me to be alone right now- or maybe he just doesn't want to be alone. There's no denying we've grown to take comfort in each other, as the rest of our lives is turned upside down. So much has gone wrong lately, in ways that seem unfair and cruel, but I do have to thank the universe for giving him back to me. There is something good in that.

"You're going to do great," Peeta tells me, squeezing my shoulder to really get the message across. I don't know how he can possibly worry about my interview right now- I certainly am not up to thinking about his. "I can tell you're starting to freak out. Don't freak out."

I glare at him. As usual, he is right, but in, like, an annoying way. "What do you mean, 'starting to'?"

"Fair enough," he concedes. Also as usual, he does not argue with me. The buzzer goes off for Emmer. "Knock 'em dead, Katniss."

I think if anyone is going to be knocked dead, it's going to be me. I couldn't be further out of my element. I belong in the forest, with shelter at every side and a camouflage outfit. Open space? A red dress? Get me the fuck out of here.

Spacing out puts me at a disadvantage. I lose a moment of time and the Capitol attendant pushes me- I assume this is a last resort- through the panels, and I'm dimly aware of Caesar Flickerman finishing a sentence with, "Katniss Everdeen!"

Yep, that's me. For a moment I feel like a mole or a shrew, blinded by the harsh studio lights. I blink that feeling away and zero in on the circular chair opposite the host. It's weird-looking and doesn't look very comfortable, but for the time being, that chair is as close to salvation as I can get. I make a beeline for it, somehow remembering Effie's lessons on walking in heels, and I take a seat before I can fall over…or worse.

The chair is substantially more comfortable than it looks, but that doesn't make me feel very much better. My whole body is still tight with nerves, in a way I'm sure is visible on camera. I try to shake it off, knowing this isn't what Cinna wanted for me. Cinna. He's supposed to be here. I ignore Caesar- I think he is talking to me- and find my stylist in the crowd. He's right where he said he'd be, third row and giving me an encouraging smile.

He so clearly believes in me, and I feel bad, knowing that I'll most likely let him down. He has no idea, how socially awkward I can be.

"Ah, Miss Everdeen…"

I swallow hard and plaster a (very fake) smile on my face. I'm scrambling, trying to put Effie's instruction in manners and Cinna's encouragement to be myself into something that will get me through the next three minutes, but it is very much showtime, and there is nothing I can do to get away from that. Manners. Manners will get me through. "Could you repeat that, Mr. Flickerman?"

He guffaws. Throws his head back laughing, like I imagine a horse would. "Please! There's no need for such formality here. I must ask that you call me Caesar."

Against my will, the knot in my stomach loosens the slightest bit. Cinna was right- Caesar truly is friendly, and he truly does make a person feel at ease. "In that case- could you repeat that, Caesar?"

He laughs again, although not as loudly or dramatically as the first time. "I only asked how you're adjusting to the Capitol, my dear."

I scramble again, this time for something funny or interesting to say. I come up with, "Well. I had never seen an elevator before."

He gasps. I think he's faking it, the surprise, I mean, but I can't be sure. People from the Capitol are weird, and they have no idea what life in the districts is like. Especially the scrubby outlying district I call home. "Really. Never?"

"Never," I repeat, trying to look as grave as he does when I shake my head. "Are they in every building, here?"

"Some have multiple!" Caesar crows. "What else don't they have in District Twelve?"

I think for a moment before answering. "Oh, the lamb stew. We don't even have sheep! The closest we have is a goat, and even then, my sister would never allow us to eat her."

Caesar marvels at my revelation. Completely unintentionally, I have opened up, just the slightest bit. "Tell us about her!"

I pause. "The sister or the goat?"

"Both!" he insists.

More laughter, from the crowd this time. I find Cinna and draw encouragement from his steady gaze. "My sister, um. Her name is Prim. She's thirteen; I love her more than anything. She'd be even worse at this than me."

Caesar laughs. "Not this specifically!" I rush to correct my mistake. "She'd probably give a much nicer interview than I will. But in the arena, she'd be hopeless."

"Hopeless!" Caesar repeats. "But you won't be, will you?"

Fully aware I can't pull off a cocky or overconfident persona like the Careers did, I just shake my head.

"Of course you won't be. We wouldn't expect anything less from the girl on fire!" Caesar roars, raising his voice with every word. "Katniss, you made quite a splash- or should I say, a sizzle- at the tribute parade the other night. Is this dress…?"

I nod serenely, standing up because I remember Cinna told me to twirl. "Yes. This is a different kind of flame, though."

One more deep breath, one more look at Cinna. Then I start to spin, the dress fanning out around my knees. I can almost hear the crackling of flames around me, and I know, as much as I can know anything right now, that I am commanding the crowd just as well as Turquoise or any of them did.

"Your stylist has outdone himself!" Caesar declares, and one of the spotlights finds Cinna for a moment. Quickly, though, it is back to me. "Now, Katniss, you weren't the only one on fire, although we can all admit you've stolen the show. Your district partner, Peeta. What do you think of him?"

This is a question I've prepared for, at least. And in some ways, it's easier to talk about Peeta than it is myself. "I've known Peeta since we were children- he's my best friend, actually. He's wonderful. I couldn't ask for a better partner."

Caesar grins. "Do you think he'll say the same thing about you?"

"He'll probably say something even kinder," I predict. Between the two of us, Peeta has always been the kind one. That has been abundantly clear for a long time.

"So you know your district partner well," Caesar states. Not a question, just a confirmation. "Is it safe to assume you also know your mentor?"

My stomach drops, and I immediately know he's not talking about Haymitch. I curse myself for not anticipating this, not having a plan. Caesar is one of the most prominent gossips in the Capitol; of course he would be aware of the rumors about me sucking face with Gale at the train station or him screaming my name after the last cannon. Those aren't even rumors, really. There is video proof of both.

My hunter's instincts kick in and I dig my claws into the most likely way out: acting like there is no problem. "District Twelve is small compared to the Capitol- everyone knows everyone there," I say quickly. "Haymitch has a widespread reputation for, um. Supporting small businesses." Mainly the ones that sell alcohol. "And Gale- I actually organized a sponsorship rally for him and his district partner last year!"

That's not a great train of thought to be on either, but I jump on it with undeniable enthusiasm.

Caesar taps his chin thoughtfully. He knows that rumor too. "Did that, perhaps…involve getting the Peacekeepers called in?"

I nod meekly, pleased that we are no longer talking about Gale. "…we were on a stage that had been roped off. And apparently that's a crime."

"Katniss Everdeen, the troublemaker!" Caesar declares. "Tell me, are you always getting in that sort of mischief?"

"If you can believe it, I actually try to avoid getting in trouble," I tell him. And yet it finds me all the same.

"You've piqued my curiosity, but oh! I'm afraid our time is up," Caesar says gently, right as the buzzer goes off. He grabs one of my hands and guides me into a bow, which I probably would not have thought to do without his direction. My dress glitters. A frenzy of applause. I'm just glad it's over.

As I take my assigned seat in the front row, I finally feel like I can breathe again. It wasn't so bad, really. I don't think I embarrassed myself or others, and I really hadn't expected more than that. The fact that I fended off Gale rumors makes me feel like I've done something impressive, or at least something beyond the bare minimum.

I turn in my chair to find Cinna, who nods approvingly and gives me a thumbs-up when I meet his gaze. Then he nods towards the stage, as if I had better not miss a second of Peeta's interview.

I'm sure he'll outshine me. This is Peeta's element in a way it never could be mine.

"A warm welcome to Peeta Mellark of District Twelve!" Caesar thunders. The crowd bursts into applause, and I join in enthusiastically.

"Thank you," says Peeta. "I'm very happy to be here, Caesar."

"Here in the Capitol, or here in this chair?"

"In the chair, mainly."

Caesar loves it. I should have known- Peeta would be the exact type of candidate that he adores, and they bounce off each other marvelously. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Mellark. According to your district partner, you are "wonderful" and "kind". Would you say that's true?"

"Absolutely. There's nothing else to know about me, actually- you could probably end the interview right here."

"And leave my audience with more questions than answers?" Caesar guffaws at the idea. "Not a chance! What do you do when you're not being kind and wonderful, Peeta?"

"Well…" He has to think before he answers. "I'm a wrestler- I mean, the youngest of three boys has to be a wrestler, but I'm on the school team and everything."

"Are you good?" asks Caesar.

"I'm pretty good! I took second place at our last tournament." For emphasis, Peeta flexes one of his large arms. Even in the confines of a suit jacket, substantial bulk is visible.

Caesar gapes. Reverently asks if he may touch it. Peeta agrees, laughing, and I'm sure the following shots of Caesar feeling his bicep will be the highlight of this year's interviews.

"It's not just from wrestling, though," Peeta continues, as if he's the one giving the interview. He tugs hi sleeve back down to his wrist. "I'm a baker, too."

"And that makes one incredibly muscular?" Caesar asks wryly.

"Flour comes in hundred-pound bags," Peeta tells him. "And guess who has to tote them up and down between the cellar and the kitchen?"

"I would say it's paid off!" Caesar exclaims, ogling Peeta and encouraging the crowd to do the same. I feel a little weird about it- he's not a piece of meat and shouldn't be treated like one- but whatever it takes to get sponsors, right? "Clearly, you are a very well-rounded individual who has what it takes to win. Does that mean your district partner is just dead weight to you?"

"Absolutely not," Peeta declares. "I wouldn't stand a chance without Katniss. If anything, I'm her dead weight. Have you seen how quick she is? Clumsy old me could never keep up."

It's strange and slightly uncomfortable to hear yourself discussed on live television. Although, this is probably my least problematic broadcast so far, if I'm being completely honest.

"She said you'd have something nice to say. And she said you already knew each other," says Caesar. A flat statement, inviting Peeta to say more.

"We do. Since we were kids, knocking each other over at recess," Peeta confirms. I don't think that's the most relevant piece of information about our friendship, but it does paint a picture of us that the Capitol seems to love.

"Now, you said you had brothers…"

They talk about Peeta's family for a while, the only part of the interview where Peeta is less than spectacularly charming. I'm probably the only one in this building who knows the truth, the unpleasant reality of Peeta's home life. The witch's cruel hand. The black eyes. The hours holed up at my house to avoid her, which I denied him for the last year-and-a-bit because of Gale.

Caesar seems to sense this is not a good topic- by God, the man is perceptive- and he crosses and re-crosses his legs, painting the picture of a tuned-in listener. "I have one more question for you before our time is up, Peeta. A handsome young man like you…is there a special girl back home?"

Peeta's cheeks flush bright red. For the first time, he struggles for words. "Ah…not really."

Giggles from the crowd, but not from me. It occurs to me I've never heard Peeta talk about girls before, even in a casual manner. Now that I think about it, I don't really have any reason to think Peeta likes girls.

Suddenly, my cheeks flush too, matching his even though we're far apart.

I have one reason.

"Not really?" Caesar repeats indignantly. He prods Peeta. "Come on, there has to be someone! A girl you've got your eye on? Someone you're hoping to come home to?"

"Like I said, Caesar…not really." Peeta gnaws at his lip; I can see his expression clearly from my spot in the front row. "But there is…there is this one girl."

Everyone in the crowd shifts audibly, creeping to the edges of their seats. Admittedly, this includes me. I can't help but be curious. This must be new, I decide. Something that happened in the year we didn't speak, that he's kept from me while our friendship is still in the early stages of regrowth.

"Well, tell us more!" Caesar commands, glancing anxiously at the ever-ticking time clock.

"Um…let's see." Peeta seems more nervous than ever. His mystery girl must not be aware of his affections. "I've known her forever, since first grade, or longer."

There goes my theory about this being something new.

"She's absolutely gorgeous," says Peeta, almost reverently. "All the guys at school know it, but I don't think she does. She's determined, selfless, vibrant…and out of my league in so many ways."

Caesar scoffs at this. "Out of your league? I shouldn't think that's possible."

Peeta shrugs helplessly. "I'm telling you the truth."

I shake my head. Peeta is too humble. He is a merchant boy, and handsome. He could have his pick of girls in District Twelve- and probably in the Capitol as well, judging by the ladies around me swooning.

"Even if she doesn't return your feelings now, Peeta, I'm sure she'll change her mind soon," Caesar prophesies. Just seconds left on the clock. "If I might ask, what is her name?"

Peeta declines.

"If you don't tell us her name, how can I get her in here for an interview?" Caesar asks indignantly.

A grin slides across Peeta's face, as close as he ever gets to being sly. "Don't you get it, Caesar?" he asks in return. "You already have."

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