Hunger Games (Peeta's POV)

8

I barely see Katniss, she's running so fast. But, I do hear her door slam and sobs begin. Effie and Haymitch share a look before the station themselves at her door. I stare down the hallway towards Effie and Haymitch, staying planted on the couch. My mind combs over what they possibly could've done that upset her so much, but nothing besides their singing sticks out to me.

When Effie and Haymitch join me in the sitting room, they both grumble about Katniss attitude. I know I should stay silent, but I feel as though I owe her defense, "You know, this whole experience isn't exactly easy on us. Maybe it's just getting to her."

I try to keep my face neutral, while a blush threatens to creep onto it. I feel like I did all those years ago defending her in front of my brothers when they teased me for giving her the bread. I've worked hard all of these years to remain impassive towards her. But, I know Haymitch can read my eyes better than I'd like when a smirk settles onto his face.

"You're right," Effie says, her capitol accent making every sentence sound like a question, "We all could be giving each other a little more grace right now."

I truly have to fight to keep the annoyance off my face, only Effie would compare her stressors to two kids that have death staring them in their eyes. The afternoon slides into evening, the only thing alerting me to passing time is the movement of the sun. The silence in the room is suffocating, but it may just be my imagination which has been flitting over every detail of the last ten hunger games that I remember. I search through the memories for anything useful that I can use, any tip I can find that'll help me survive the coming weeks. By the time the stylists arrive, I welcome the interruption.

"Where's Katniss?" Cinna questions almost moments after he enters the room.

Haymitch's voice drips with annoyance when he replies, "She's in her room, she's been there since she finished her session with the gamemakers."

As we sit for the meal, Katniss enters behind Effie with her eyes on the floor. As she sits, I try to catch her eye, but her eyes don't leave the table. What feels like hours later, our eyes connect. I raise me eyebrows slightly, implying a question, but all I'm met with is a small shake of her head.

"Okay," Haymitch begins, "enough small talk, just how bad were you today?"

I doubt she'll answer, so I speak before he asks for a drink or begins to yell at her. Both would demolish the progress we've made with him, I'm not willing to throw all that away after one bad day, "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

Katniss looks relieved at the annoyance in my voice, maybe relieved enough to speak when Haymitch says, "And you, sweetheart?"

"I shot an arrow at the gamemakers," She says, as though it's the weather. I don't know what I expected her to say, but never would I have imagined she'd do something so impulsive. I feel a pit enter my stomach, could this ruin my plans? Could she just have made it impossible for me to save her?

The conversation continues, but I can't quite pull myself out of my head until Haymitch speaks with a smile creeping into his voice, "More likely they'll make your life hell in the arena."

"Well, they've already promised to do that anyway," I say, knowing that it's true. It's the gamemakers job to make it a good show, making our lives hell is what they've been hired to do. Haymitch nods his head at me, letting me know I've said exactly what he was thinking.

"Very true," Haymitch replies as the frown leaves Katniss' face, "What were their faces like?"

With that, the story turns humorous; a smile slowly entering Katniss' face, "Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous some of them. One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."