The Hunger Games (Peeta's Point of View)

Chapter Nine

I see her face contort with different emotions.

But betrayal is the one that sticks the most. I was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now there's no way we can ever become friends. I guess I thought we were friends, but I was under false pretences. And now that look on her face has confirmed that we'll never be close. Ever. I've ruined this!

But there's got to be some benefits, hasn't there? Being coached for the interviews alone will make Haymitch and Effie focus on just me, and they can give me advice to suit me. And I'm going to tell Haymitch about my interview plans to, which is the reason I want to be coached separately, so it's not all bad. Right? But Katniss' face makes me believe this is the wrong choice.

I look steadily down at the table, not wanting to look at Katniss when she says, "Good." The word hangs and echoes in my head. 'Good.' So she's partly glad we're being coached separately? Or is she acting? Why do I feel hurt that she said that? What was I expecting? "So what's the schedule?"

"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content," says Haymitch. "You start with Effie, Katniss." The eight hours of consecutive training makes me want to go back to my room and nestle in my bed, but I can't because this is the Capitol and President Snow seems to have a penchant for making tributes have as hard a time in the Games as possible. Haymitch and I go to the sitting room and sit down on the couches.

"So, let's jump straight in. I'll be Caesar, okay?" But Haymitch continues before I can reply. "Peeta. What do you think of the Capitol so far, then?"

Haymitch puts on a silly Capitol accent that should have me in stitches but I remain sullen as I answer, "It's alright." I look up to see a scowl on his face, so I add, "I like the showers." But Haymitch's scowl does not disappear.

"Come on, Peeta! That shower thing could have been funny if you put effort into it!" So he tries again, and manages to coax a similarly-effortless response from me. After a great sigh he shakes his head, then tilts it to one side as he says, "You might as well tell me what's wrong with you. You're not as happy as you usually are and there's no way we're going to survive this if you keep on acting the way you are. I'll end up killing you before you even make it to the interviews!"

"Please do, it'll spare me the bother of having to exaggerate my death," I mutter in reply.

"See, that's what I want! More of the Peeta Mellark humour! Please, tell me what's up. Is it that Katniss?" I shuffle my feet. It's now or never. If he refuses to accept my plan, then this whole wrecking of our relationship will have been for nothing.

"Well... Sort of. You see, I was thinking."

"Yes?" Haymitch prompts.

"I have no chance in these Games, do I?"

"Well that's good; starting this on a high," he says. I notice he doesn't argue my point though.

"Please, Haymitch. I have no chance," I repeat. "I mean, I'm a baker's son. The best thing I can do here is lifting heavy stuff. Or if the arena's a giant cake maybe I can shape weapons and snares out of frosting." Haymitch snorts. "So I was thinking of a strategy that would benefit me. And Katniss. Us."

"Go on."

"I can tell Caesar that I'm in love with her." I leave Haymitch to digest this for a second then hastily carry on in case he has any idea to object. "The audience will remember us! We'll be on their minds when it comes to sponsoring! Katniss will have an even better chance of surviving, with her eleven and my admission! Then the audience- everyone- will be falling at her feet! She'll be remembered! Loved! That will help in terms of sponsoring!" Once I've finished my speech I realise the 'us' turned to 'Katniss' about halfway through. I didn't see if Haymitch looked surprised. Instead, he looks deep in thought. What if he refuses? But then he starts to nod slowly, and then nods faster, which suggests that he's built on this idea.