Against All Odds

You Can't Jump

A/N: New chapter! Do you prefer authour notes at the beginning or the end of the chatpers?

~MAGICAL TIME SKIP TO MORNING~ (Allow us to assume Katniss went to her room and slept)

The next morning, I wake up early, around 5:30. Dragging myself out of bed, I trudge out to eat breakfast, forgetting to "beautify" myself, as my prep team calls it.

After eating a hasty breakfast by myself, since no one else is awake yet, I decide that a little exploration really won't do anyone harm. I walk outside our room, and notice that the elevator has an up button. Strange. Aren't we in the penthouse, at the top already?

I take the elevator up, and to my surprise, I find myself on the roof. Are tributes allowed up here?

Considering that I haven't been swarmed by peacekeepers yet, I think it should be safe. I walk to the edge, and sit down. The view is amazing. Perhaps it's not forests and rivers like I'm used to from District 12, but you can't deny the beauty. The sun is just rising, and it's causing the sky to turn from pink to yellow, to pale blue. For once, you can't tell the capitol lights are on because it's just the right balance between night and day for them to blend in. Everything is so peaceful. It's too late for the night owls, but too early for normal people. The tranquility is something I have never thought of.

The wind from up high blows through my hair, and it feels cool, even enjoyable.

Until a voice says, "You know you can't jump, they have a forcefield."

I whip around, to see none other than the district one male tribute, Marvel.

"I wasn't trying to jump, I just like the heights," I retort cooly. "I could tell you the same thing, you seem to be approaching the edge rather quickly."

He laughs. "I have no need to jump, nor do I see the point in it. My chances of winning are high, why commit suicide and end it all now?" His eyes are pine green, and there's a look in his eye. I would call it sorrowful if I don't know better. People like him have no need for sorrow. Their chances are a tenfold greater than those of tributes from less fortunate districts. But he's a career. He shouldn't be showing any emotions, and he most certainly should not be taking to me!

Thinking everything over, I frown and tell him that I have to go. He just nods.

As I walk into the elevator, I turn around, to see him sitting down in the exact same spot I was, with his legs dangling over the edge. He doesn't look like a career here. A career isn't capable of the emotions he seems to be showing. I shake it off and return to my floor.

The second I walk in, Effie gasps, and forces me inside my room with the order to clean myself up. Apparently she is starting to believe I look like Haymitch. I mean, can't anyone totally see the resemblence? (Please note the sarcasm...)

A few minutes later, I walk out in my training uniform, which I recieved from Cinna last night, not feeling too well. My stomach still isn't used to this heavy eating. On the day we go into the arena, I don't even plan to eat breakfast. I'll only throw it up afterwards from nervousness. Or it'll slow me down while I run for my life with an angry district 2 tribute throwing knives at me from behind. Or brandishing a wicked sword, trying to cut my head off. But then again, it could quite possibly be the last decent meal I have for awhile. And Effie will throw a fit if I don't eat. Whatever.

I pull out a chair, and sit down.

"So... What are you guys discussing?" I ask casually, noticing that Peeta and Haymitch seem to have been discussing something before I came in.

Haymitch shrugged, and says, "Trying to determine your angle, sweetheart."

I scowl at the name, but decide that for the sake of peace, it can be ignored. For now. "So... what is my angle?"

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It's decided that Haymitch can work with me on my "angle" while Peeta works with Effie on manners during the interviews. Then, we will switch. I dearly am not looking forward to the switch. Maybe Effie will decide that Peeta's manners are so awful that he needs extra time? Well, one can always hope... Thankfully the training won't start until 10 AM, leaving us with a few hours of practice time. Then, Haymitch walks in with a bored but harsh look on his face. This is almost as bad as facing Effie and her "Manners 101" class. He glares at me. Well, this is going to be a long "class"....