Happy Halloween! I normally love this holiday but it SNOWED last night so I am not really vibing with it this year.

I'm thinking about doing NaNo or whatever the write-a-book-in-November challenge is…but I can't decide if I want to work on my fanfic or my actual original novel…so I might be insane and try to do both and fail twice? I love when I can predict the ending.

Katniss

I shut off the TV, nearly bursting with pride over my little sister. I never would have guessed she'd be so brave in the arena. I shouldn't be so surprised- being in the medical field, Prim learned to handle herself under pressure early on.

Storm just rolls her eyes. Even though she loves her sister too, she thinks the level of sappiness I reach for Prim is ridiculous. She's just a different kind of girl. "So, when am I gonna hear that world-class singing voice?"

"Uh…never." I make a face. "It's not even me she's talking about. We, uh, have another sister."

"Also named Katniss?"

"It's a family name."

Storm cracks a smile. It's always nice to see proof she does have a sense of humor. "Got it. Well, enough of this crap. We should've gone to lunch ages ago. Are you coming?"

"Might as well," I say with a shrug. I've finally gotten to the point I can shut the TV off and walk away without worrying constantly about Prim. Make no mistake, I still worry about her often. But not constantly.

Watching the Games always makes me lose any sense of what time it is, but lunch still seems to be in full swing. Storm and I meander through the cafeteria line- chicken and rice today- and start looking around for anyone we know. The first person I spot is Gale. He's sitting with Nolan, H, and Turquoise, hunched over and gripping his fork so hard I think he might bend it.

"He looks like he's in a mood…" I trail off.

Storm shrugs. "Being fired will do that. C'mon."

She tugs on my arm but I resist. "I think I'll go sit with Peeta and Thunder," I decide, taking my arm back. "They seem a little more…welcoming."

"You're such a baby," she scoffs. "Always running back to your little boyfriend."

"Goodbye, Storm."

She sighs huffily and stomps off towards Gale's table. I think it annoys her when she fails to get under my skin, but I see no reason to let her bother me anymore. Besides, I know I'm making the right decision. In addition to Gale's visible foul mood, H and Nolan are sitting awfully close together, and I have a feeling this meal may end in a brawl.

I was correct; Peeta and Thunder are much more welcoming. There are a couple other people with them, but I make no more effort to learn their names than I did when I was actually attending school with them. They just don't seem important.

"I'm glad you're here, Katniss." Peeta nudges his tray aside, making more room for me. "I got worried when you didn't show up for breakfast. Or any of our classes."

I shrug. Not going to class is normal for me and he should know that. "Sorry. The Games were on, I got distracted."

"They're on in here too," Thunder says, gesturing to the quartet of screens in the middle of the cafeteria. They show Davina and Griff clearly hunting something or someone, and I have a series of heart attacks and regrets before aerial footage reveals they're much closer to the rebel pack than Prim and her friends. I'm fine with that. As cruel as it sounds, I really don't care what happens to Aspen or Lorcan or any of them. "We saw your sister work her healing magic!"

"She's very talented for her age," I say, and it's true, but more than that, she is kind and empathetic- much more so than I am. "…but I'd be impressed by anyone who can wrangle Storm Junior."

I hear a shrill excuse me?! from across the room, reminding me that Storm Senior is also notoriously a handful.

"They all seem like good kids," Peeta puts in. "I think they handled the wolf thing better than we did."

"Hey, I at least put a couple arrows in the wolves," I point out.

"They would have if they had arrows!"

I scrunch my nose. Even just the reminder of how much danger Prim was in makes me unhappy. "Maybe it doesn't work to compare the two."

"No, they're completely different," Thunder agrees. He checks the clock across the room. "Oh, I am late late. See you guys later!"

He leaves, and the students I sort of recognize but don't really care about follow shortly after, saying they have to go to class. That leaves just Peeta and me, and I look at him curiously. "Don't you want to go to class?"

"I have special permission to skip this afternoon," he replies. "Another reason I'm glad you showed up. You and I have to work on our speech."

I groan inwardly. I wish I'd just faked an illness when Coin brought up speeches. "Oh no. I'm useless at that stuff. What are we supposed to do up there, get married?"

I assume that's what they want from us. If Coin asked us to speak together, it means she wants the love story. We have to give her what she wants, right?

Peeta makes a face. "Let's try to avoid making irreversible life decisions in our three minutes onstage."

"Marriage is reversible. Haven't you ever heard of divorce?"

"Yeah, it's what my parents should've gotten when I was five."

Well, he's not wrong. I drum my fingers on the tabletop, appetite suddenly gone. "Well, alright. What should we talk about?"

A huffy sigh. I don't think he's annoyed- Peeta has a lot more patience for me than that- but frustrated, certainly. As he has every right to be. "Can we find somewhere else to talk?"

A small smile. "I know just the place."

§

I haven't been back to the library since I was here with Turquoise and Daphne. I'm pleased to find it empty this time, aside from the same librarian shuffling around the front desk. She gives Peeta and I a stern look and a reminder to be quiet as soon as we come in. She must assume we're playing hooky.

We find a table and a corner. Peeta gets out paper and pen for both of us, although I really have no intention of using mine. I have terrible handwriting, first of all. More importantly I have the eloquence of a water buffalo. Any ideas I have should be specifically avoided.

Peeta twirls his pencil around in his hand. "Alright, we need something to inspire District Thirteen. Any ideas, Katniss?"

"None," I reply honestly. "This is far beyond me."

He puts pencil to paper. "Well…we'll need some kind of opening statement…maybe I should get some highlighters."

I wish all of my problems could be solved with highlighters. Although, honestly, I don't think they'll even help much with the current problem.

I try to help. I really do. When Peeta prods me, I try to say something, and he faithfully writes it down, but he typically erases it within a few minutes because nothing I say makes any sense, clearly. I don't like the feeling that I'm hanging him out to dry here- we are supposed to be a team here, the star-crossed lovers, yes, but more importantly, a team.

I'm just out of my depth. That's all there is to it. I remember last year, back in District Twelve, when we'd taken the stage in an attempt to gather sponsors for Gale and Madge. Peeta had been excellent and I'd been a dead fish. That should have given me a clue as to exactly how this one would go.

After half an hour and approximately two paragraphs of "speech", both of us are frustrated and ready to quit. Peeta pushes his notebook aside. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe we just need to brainstorm for a while."

"I just…don't know what to talk about," I sigh. That should not be so hard to admit. It's true. "It was easier doing interviews with Caesar. I knew what the Capitol wanted to hear, even if saying it was still hard. This is totally different."

"Very different," Peeta agrees. He's got a very serious frown on his face. "Maybe that's part of the problem. If we're too worried about pleasing the audience, we'll never write an authentic speech."

"It was never going to be authentic. For me, at least," I remind him. He winces at that. I guess he didn't need the reminder that he is one-hundred-percent carrying the team, as far as the speech is concerned.

He looks over what we've written so far. "All of this is…okay. Really not great. It's all just…filler. Which has its place, certainly, but the place isn't here. We need to say something that actually matters."

The answer springs to me instantly. "Our siblings. That's what's important."

He grins, maybe just pleased that I'm contributing something. "I'm sure we can find a way to make that inspiring."

The floodgates have opened; he's writing again. This time he doesn't need to prod me to help- I'm always eager to talk about Prim. It's not hard to make her inspiring, either. I'm sure, if she was here, everyone in District Thirteen would find her as wonderful as I do.

At some point, the writing ceases and we are just reminiscing. I ask Peeta to tell me his favorite memory of Rye and he obliges. "Well, we were eleven and twelve- so around the time I met you," he adds. "He was teaching me to make his signature cookies- you know, the ones with the pink swirl and no frosting?"

"I know," I reply. Thanks to Peeta's penchant for sharing, I have tasted at least one of every baked good they sell at Mellark's.

"Anyway, we both kept sneaking bits of dough. We were really hungry! But, by the time the cookies went into the oven, there were only a dozen left," he continued. "We knew Ma would whoop our asses for that. So Rye had to whip up another batch really fast, with a modified ingredients list so she wouldn't notice anything missing.

"Of course, she did notice and we did get our asses whooped in the end," Peeta concludes. "I haven't snuck raw cookie dough ever since."

I wrinkle my nose. "That's your best memory?"

"The rest was mostly wrestling," he says with a shrug. "What's your best memory of Prim?"

I lean back. It's hard to pick, but eventually I come up with something. "When I brought Lady the goat home for her. She was so surprised- and she loves that goat."

"Who wouldn't?" Peeta asks rhetorically. Outside of Prim, he's probably Lady's biggest fan.

"I hope she's doing alright…" I trail off. With me in District Thirteen, Prim in the arena, and our mother who-knows-where, nobody has been home to take care of Lady. In general, goats are pretty self-sufficient, but still, I worry.

"I'm sure she's fine," Peeta reassures me. "She can take care of herself. She's probably fat and happy."

The latter for sure. Lady was bred to have kids at the end of the summer- Prim was hoping for triplets. She might even have had them by now.

I wonder if I'll ever see her- or anyone I said goodbye to in District Twelve- ever again.

It occurs to me that, while I truly hope the rebels win the war, I have no idea what that looks like for me. Do I get to go home? Or am I part of District Thirteen forever, eternally underground and eternally playing the part of Katniss, The Tribute? That doesn't sound like much of a life to me. I'm bearing it for now, but I have no intention of bearing it forever. As usual, I have no say in the matter.

It's like he can read my mind. "I'm sure we'll get to go back, Katniss," he says in that reassuring tone that works so well on me. "As long as we're not arrested for treason, nothing could keep us from going back to Twelve."

To be honest, being arrested for treason is possible. Maybe even likely. "As long as the rebels win the war."

"I'm confident they'll win," says Peeta. Except he doesn't really sound confident, much less excited about it. "I just, you know. I wish it didn't come with such a price.

And that really sums it up, doesn't it? If the war didn't put my sister in danger, I'd be all for overthrowing the Capitol. Hell, maybe I'd even be willing to give my life for the cause, like Gale apparently is.

If only things were actually that simple.

Peeta shuffles through his papers and I read over his shoulder. His handwriting really isn't that much better than mine- maybe I should have done the writing-down part. It would have made me feel like I was contributing more, and I don't want Peeta to start thinking of me as deadweight. I get enough of that from Storm.

"You think this is good enough?" I ask, doubting myself suddenly. "Is it authentic and inspiring enough? Does it make us sound genuine, noble, and madly in love?"

"Well, I hope it's good enough," says Peeta. He pushes his chair away from the table. "We have to be at hair and makeup in six hours."

Not my best work, I know. Katniss and Peeta trying to write an inspiring speech is basically me trying to write anything. Highlighters solve everything.