Chapter 8

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Ch. 8

My eyes stare at the piece of bread in Katniss's hands as my mind recalls what happened so many years ago. It takes all of my efforts to keep my face clean of any emotion as I shrug and say, "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you," she says rather obstinately.

I just roll my eyes lamely and turn to Haymitch. "She has no idea. The effect she can have on people."

I mentally slap myself as I realize what I just said. Ugh, stupid! Why would I say that? I just made a totally normal conversation into an awkward silence! Way to go, Peeta. Your way with words isn't going so well today, is it? I guess i just revealed to Katniss, again, how obsessed I am with her, but she just seems mad this time. Why would these words upset her? Ah, life's many mysteries.

Breaking the silence, Haymitch clears his throat. "Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares."

"That may be significant in terms of food," Haymitch states. He turns to me. "And, Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the training center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

Katniss and I nod simultaneously.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute," he says.

What? No! I like Katniss (actually, I love her), but that doesn't mean I want to spend every second of every day with her.

"But I don't want to-"

"What does this even-"

Katniss and I start complaining at the same time, but Haymitch bangs his fist on the table, silencing us.

"Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

Angrily, I stomp back to my room. I hate being pushed around like some child with no brain! This is the difference between Katniss and I's life or death; don't you think that we should be the ones making the decisions?

The floor rattles and the walls shake as I hear someone slam a door- Katniss, probably- loudly. I can tell that she isn't so happy about being my "training buddy" for the next couple of days, either.

Well, Peeta, I tell myself, I guess it's your own fault. You wanted Haymitch to be your mentor, and you made a deal with him. A stupid, dumb, retarded deal, too.

By the time I'm done assuaging my fury out on a poor pillow, my clock says it's ten. My palms start to sweat as I ride down the glass elevator to the training center, which is underground. The ride is way too fast. Curse you, modern technology.

When we get to the training center, I gasp as I look around at all of the weapons and training supplies. I gulp nervously as I look around at all of the other tributes. The boy from district eleven whom I recognize as Thresh could take me out in a single punch.

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