Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, but here's the chapter. Thank you for the kind reviews! You guys are awesome. Also, I'll try and get to the games as soon as possible, but I need to set a foundation first!

Haymitch says that during training we are to stay away from the centers that specialize in the skills that we are strongest in. For Katniss, that's archery. For me, it's lifting things. Or baking, but I'm pretty sure I won't find an oven in the training center.

We are to train for three days straight. And then, on the fourth day, each tribute gets a fifteen minute private session with the Gamemakers, where a score will be assigned to each tribute. The scores vary from 1 to 12, 1 being the most abysmal, and 12 being the best. The day after our private sessions, we are to have our interviews with Caesar Flickerman, the notorious host for the Hunger Games. And after that, well, the games begin.

Haymitch's plan of action is to gain the upper hand on the other tributes. He warns us that the Career tributes will immediately show off their skills on the first day of training. We aren't to be intimidated by this. We just need to experiment with some of the survival centers - setting up traps, building a fire, etc. - for the training, but stay away from the centers that would highlight our strengths. Then, Haymitch hopes that we'll pull high enough scores to scare the other tributes.

Intimidation is the weapon Haymitch is trying to create. Fear is powerful.

Perhaps it was my visit to the roof with Cato, or the fact that I am extremely exhausted, but my sleep after the opening ceremonies was the most comfortable and energizing sleep I've had in a while. It's, of course, interrupted by a certain Effie Trinket, who is always prompt, hasty and hurried.

"Peeta Mellark, you have fifteen minutes to shower and get ready for breakfast." Yes, mother. Without allowing me to argue about how she's interrupted my rest, she's off, her heels clicking agonizingly loud. She's probably off to wake up Katniss.

But orders are orders. I take off my clothes and head to the shower. I look at myself in the mirror, and take a second to analyze my attributes. I do have muscle. I'm not repulsive. My arms seem to be where most of my muscle is concentrated, but my chest and abs look like they're developing. Hopefully I attract some sponsor in the arena, I think. I enter the shower, and observe the interesting device that controls the complicated shower. So many buttons. I'm pretty sure that some of these excess buttons are just for decoration. I settle on what seems to be a low power shower setting, that occasionally shoots out a soapy chemical. I shower for about ten minutes and then dry myself. The clothes that Portia has provided for me are simple. A black tee with red and grey accents, along with the number of the District.

As I am about to sit for breakfast, Haymitch pulls me aside. "Peeta, be sure to get on Katniss's good side. I'm devising a plan and it requires cooperation between you two." I give a quick glance to Katniss and then I look back at Haymitch. This isn't the drunkard, asshole mentor that I'm used to. He's being serious. There's a sense of urgency in his voice, so I nod and head to the dining table, where an omelet with slices of steak and wild rice awaits me. The Capitol may be disgusting, but the food surely isn't.

Haymitch tries to get Katniss and I to speak to one another. It's clear that we aren't the closest of friends. Aside from contact on the train ride here, and the awkward eye contact at school, the only real contact we've ever had was back when we were young, barely old enough to qualify for the tesserae, something I could tell that she desperately needed. She was standing outside of my bakery, and it was pouring rain. She needed food, and resigned under a tree. She must have been walking for hours in search of food. She was about to give up, but she couldn't. I knew that she lived for more than herself. She lived for her family, a family that was newly mourning the loss of the father, so I needed to do something to help her. My sympathy towards her wouldn't allow her to starve another second. So I sacrificed two loaves of bread and burnt them. My mother hit me for them, and told me to feed it to the pigs. I didn't. Katniss was the only recipient to the loaves of bread. I might have saved her life, but we've never verbally exchanged much of anything. She's elusive. She keeps to herself.

"Katniss, which station do you want to visit first?" I ask her. It's a long time before she formulates a response, but it isn't even verbal. It's just a shrug as she sips on some orange juice. Her good side might be harder to get on than I anticipated.

Katniss and I arrive to the training area according to schedule, but we're the last tributes to arrive. Perhaps it's fear or excitement that brought them here so quickly. We're introduced to Atala, the head trainer in the training arena. She informs us on the several stations and the basics of how our training will work. She also goes over the many ways tributes die.

Not only can other tributes kill you, but lack of sleep, hunger, thirst, infection, blood poisoning - all of these wonderful things can result in our deaths. I've watched the Hunger Games before. I know this. I've seen worthy contenders succumb to food deprivation or thirst. It's a reminder how despicable these games are.

Katniss and I are the first to visit some of the more obscure stations. No one really seems to care for knot tying. So that's where we end up going. I'm not very great at tying knots, and make pretty flimsy and feeble traps. Katniss, however, is pretty good at setting up snares, and I think the instructor for this station is grateful to have participants. Careers usually stray away from these stations because they always have a steady source of food. I notice Cato at the obstacle station, dubbed "the Gauntlet". He's really good at getting through the obstacle. The shirt hugs his muscles well and his muscles are rippling. He notices me observing him and gives me a tiny smile before he refocuses and gets back to showing off on the obstacle course provided. Katniss snaps me back into reality to tell me that we should move onto the next station.

Katniss heads over to the edible plants section. Again, Katniss proves to have more knowledge in this station than I do. I just know that plants are green, but Katniss has more than a basic grasp of which plants are edible and which are deadly. We spend about thirty minutes at the station.

"Remember, if you aren't one hundred percent certain of what you might be eating, then don't eat it," the instructor happily informs us. She must not get a lot of tributes either.

"Peeta, do you want to try the camouflage station?" Katniss asks me softly. I got a sentence out of Katniss Everdeen.

"Sure," I reply quietly. We head to the camouflage station and it pleases me to finally be at a station where I can thrive. The paint is just like the frosting in the bakery. Except, this time, I'm the cake. It's fascinating, and a nice reminder of the nicer aspects of home. I don't even notice Katniss leave. It's not too shocking that she left me, but I'm too fixated on my arm, which is becoming the bark of the tree. The camouflage instructor is extremely pleased with my work. I'm about to work with the greener colors to see if I can blend in with grass when there's a ring and then an announcement.

"Attention, attention. Tributes, it is time for lunch."

"I'm just going to go to the bathroom to wash this off. It's this way, right?" I ask, motioning to one of the doors. The camouflage instructor nods and I head for the bathroom. This paint is tough, but it washes off pretty quickly. I'm washing the residue of the paint off when Cato walks in. He probably is washing his hands from the sweat he's given out during training. I don't think anyone has worked as hard as him and Clove.

"Hey, Cato," I say blankly. I'm not sure if he remembers me from last night. I'm not even sure whether I should consider him a friend or not, but I'll be polite with him.

"Hey, Peeta," he replies coldly. He seems so focused all of the time, like he's ready to kill at any moment. He's still pretty good looking, even though he's extremely sweaty. He's going to get a lot of sponsors, I think.

"You look great out there," I say encouragingly. Then I realize what I said, and all of what it might imply. He wouldn't interpret it as flirting. "I didn't mean it, you know... I didn't mean it like that..." Well this is pretty damn awkward.

Cato chuckles for a little. It isn't as cold as I would expect. It's almost light and real. There isn't much room for laughter in a situation like the one we're in, but he's laughing. "You too," he replies. He winks at me, and I'm hoping that he turns to walk out just in time to not see me blush. He then walks out of the bathroom to eat his lunch, leaving me anxious. He winked. And I'm blushing.

Clove motions me over to her table where other tributes sit, no doubt to form the Career Alliance.

"What took you so long in the-" She's about to finish her question when she sees Peeta walk out of the same general area that I came from, and then gives me a mockingly surprised glare with her mouth agape. "Naughty, naughty boy, Cato. I wonder if sex is considered abuse, or grounds for punishment here in the training center. You are going to be in a lot of trouble."

"Clove, I didn't have sex with him. We were just in the bathroom together. We just happened to wash our hands at the same time. And sex shouldn't count."

"Sure... Cato, you did something. He's blushing," Clove jokes as she lightly shoves my arm.

Before we can continue, I'm interrupted by one of the tributes at our table. "Hi, Cato. My name is Glimmer. You look great out there." That's the same thing Peeta said to me, but it's almost disgusting coming out of her mouth. Glimmer. She's undoubtedly from District 1, the luxury district. She's so ditsy and such an air-head that her flirting is kind of amusing. But I'm uncomfortable with her throwing her hands all over me.

"Get off of me," I say sternly. She takes umbrage at the fact that I'm so cold towards her, but I really don't care. She's probably used to getting what she wants.

"Jerk," she roughly states. She quickly readjusts herself, and then becomes just as ditsy as before.

Another tribute comes to approach me. "Hey, Cato. My name is Marvel. I specialize in the spear and pole weapons." Marvel. He, too, must be from the ditsy District. Well, with a name like that, he has to be. But with his spear power, he could potentially be an asset.

I nod to acknowledge him and then begin to eat my lunch. Beef and gravy. The more protein, the better.

Then training resumes. I take to the wrestling and knife stations. Clove is handy with the knives and she spends a lot of time teaching me how to throw them.

"Have you noticed that," Clove begins, "the District 12 tributes have been to all the weird stations. Look at them right now." I do so. Katniss is at the edible insects section, and Peeta looks like he's headed back to the camouflage station. He's so cute. "I wonder what they're up to. They must have one skill."

"Well, Peeta's cute. Does that count?" I ask jokingly.

"His pretty face won't be much with my knife cutting it into pieces. Do you want him a part of our alliance?"

"I still don't know." Clove rolls her eyes at me.

"Well, figure it out, Cato."

"Let's see what he can do, maybe?"

"Blend in with nature," she answers dismissively.

Clove and I continue training together until it's time to head up to our rooms for dinner. Our escort and Brutus are already eating, and don't bother to ask about training. We're self-sufficient. We don't need their guidance. There isn't much conversation. Clove and I can talk before we decide to sleep and our escort is too busy revising the schedule.

I go up to the roof to relax before I go to sleep. The blonde, District 12 tribute is already up here, and he doesn't even have to look back to know it's me. "Up here again? Good evening, Cato."

"I just need to clear my thoughts before I sleep," I share in a casual tone. "And yourself?"

"Same. The first day was pretty tiring, so I needed to step out for a moment," he replies to me. He clears his throat and then begins to talk again. "Cato, what you said in the bathroom. 'You too'... What'd you mean?"

I look into his face and see that it is innocent. He doesn't understand that I think he's attractive. He doesn't understand that I'm trying to flirt with him in the most innocent of ways. Or maybe he's starting to understand it, but doesn't know to believe it. It means that I want you. In my bed. No clothes. Now.

I don't say that, of course. "Your work at the camouflage station was top-notch," I lie.

"Oh. I thought that was it. Thanks."

Can't I just tell him that I have a tiny crush on him? What's the harm in that? One or both of us will end up dead within the next couple of weeks. So does it really matter?

We sit out there for a while, watching over the Capitol, when I decide that it's time for me to sleep. "Goodnight, Peeta." Just to test it out, I wink at him again, and I get the same result. He's blushing.

"Erm, Goodnight, Cato."

I make it back to the penthouse, where Effie awaits. "Goodnight, Mr. Mellark."

Sleep comes a little less easy. My dreams are a mixture of Cato and death. When I wake up, I figure that I dreamt of Cato because he was the last person I had a full conversation with. And I dreamt of death because, well, it's the Hunger Games.

The day is almost the same as yesterday. Katniss and I eat breakfast, and then head to training a little earlier. Our focus for the day is fire making, which Katniss has some remedial experience in. We go to the knives section, where the instructor teaches us how to use the knife as a weapon and a tool. We even try fishing with nets. We're communicating a bit better today.

I've actually picked up some useful skills, but it's not enough to survive in the arena. My snares will be insufficient when the time comes. I probably won't retrieve any weaponry from the Cornucopia. And I probably won't be able to tell the difference between the plants in the forest. I just have to keep trying and hope for the best. The training is rigorous, but hopefully will pay off.

When we're in the elevator on the way up to our floor, Cato and I ride next to each other. We don't say anything to each other, but, before he exits off of his floor, he smiles at me, winks, and then leaves. But I turn red again and hope that nobody notices. Is this wink some sort of common greeting in District 2?

When Katniss and I arrive to our floor, she quietly states, "I noticed what you did back there." I turn to her and give her a puzzled look. "I'm not an expert, but I can tell that you like him, Peeta."

I'm not sure if my cheeks can get any redder, but I quickly retort, "Katniss, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't like Cato."

Maybe "I don't" isn't the right phrase. I can't like him. It's too risky to put my feelings out there during the Hunger Games.

"I never said his name. I could have been talking about anyone. Just play it smart, Peeta. I could care less about your romantic interests. Remember that he is a Career. He is your enemy. He might be taking advantage of your feelings so he can kill you off easily."

I don't want to believe her, but it's the safest thing to do. Purging any thoughts for Cato is a good option. It's less mental baggage that I can take into the arena.

I decide to go straight to sleep after I eat dinner that night. I hope he's comfortable on the roof.

Again, sorry that you guys had to wait so long. I didn't think that summer would be this busy, but thank you for those who have reviewed. Hope you all have wonderful days! (: