Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters. I just kidnap and torture them for your entertainment. Oh, shoot, I'm President Snow!

A/N: Thank you for your amazing response to the last chapter – even though I know most of you HATED what happened, you were all so kind in your reviews, and so trusting of where this is all going. Just keep that thought in your mind. You're going to need it!

I'm terrible. I'm so sorry I've been so slow with the updates. I hope I'm not losing your interest! This chapter's a little longer than usual, if that's any consolation!

Quick recap of Ch. 7: Katniss and Peeta go on a study date to Gale's school where Katniss gets all jealous of Gale's flirtatious lab partner. She flirts with Peeta to get back at Gale and try to make him jealous. Peeta catches on and gets mad at her for using him. He leaves her at USC.

And now, on with the show…

Chapter 8: Much Ado About Everything

"Okay, seriously, I'm going to need a calendar of your menstrual cycle," Delly says, peering out from behind my locker door.

"What?" I reply, perplexed. I pack my Chemistry book into my book bag and slam the door shut, rotating the dial of the combination lock out of habit.

Delly leans on the locker beside mine and crosses her arms. "Well, you and Peeta seem to get into some dumb fight just about once a month. I figure PMS must be the only logical explanation. So I just need to know when I can expect to wear myself thin trying to be a friend to both of you separately."

"Are you implying that our fights are always my fault?" I ask, sliding the strap up to my shoulder and heading down the hall towards the auditorium.

Delly skips to catch up with my strides. "Nooo. Just because you're the one with the monthly period, doesn't mean the guy can't be a jerk. Even Peeta."

We weave through the crowd heading in the opposite direction on their way to the parking lot.

"Well, it was me that was the jerk this time," I admit, not even looking her way. "And sadly, I can't even blame my estrogen levels."

She looks at me with her doe eyes, dripping with sympathy. "Sorry. I know you're probably having a hard time with all this back and forth with Peeta. I shouldn't be making this about me."

We stop when we near the entrance to the auditorium as I eye the doors reluctantly.

"No, I'm sorry. It's really not fair that you keep getting thrown into the middle of things, Delly," I apologize, reaching out to squeeze her arm. "Look, I know you and Peeta have been close friends for a long time. I would completely understand if you needed to be there for him. You don't need to feel obligated to split your time and affections with us equally."

"Oh, please," she replies, rolling her eyes at me. "I don't feel obligated. Believe it or not, I actually love you, too. I just want you two to work things out. You're so good for each other."

"Delly, I don't –"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But newsflash – a guy and a girl can break up and still have a strong, platonic relationship. Peeta and I are proof positive! Okay, well, I know what you're going to say. We didn't really date date, but still. Relationships and romance –they can be messy. But they don't always have to end badly." Delly holds up her key and jingles it to tell me she needs to go. "Good luck in there."

Delly heads back down the hall in the direction we had just come from. I hesitate in front of the auditorium doors, dreading spending the next hour and a half with the guy I hurt irrevocably and twenty-two others that I barely tolerate.

"You waiting for me?" Finnick says from behind me. "Or are you just working up to a dramatic entrance?"

I look over my shoulder and roll my eyes at his seductive gaze and impossibly deep dimples.

"It's not like Drama Club is the highlight of my day, you know," I tell him.

Finnick positions himself between the door and me. "Really? You and Mellark seem to enjoy it."

"Yeah, maybe when he didn't hate me," I mumble under my breath, not intending for Finnick to catch it.

His perpetual smirk disappears for just a brief moment and his eyes almost show a trace of compassion. Finnick is quick to tuck his emerging emotions away.

"Well, then it's a good thing we're buddies!" he declares, putting his arm around my shoulder, and leads me inside.

"Where's your guard dog?" I ask sarcastically, nudging his hand off my shoulder, not knowing what to make of his chumminess.

"What? You mean Johanna?" he asks, pausing in the middle of the center aisle to give me a sideways glance. "You shouldn't worry about her. She's all bark, no bite."

I walk ahead of Finnick, grabbing a seat at our usual place in the row in front of the stage. Peeta has yet to arrive, but I claim my unofficial territory. Finnick plops down one of the seats beside me, leaving the other open for which I'm sure everyone is expecting to be Peeta. I glance at my watch, which already reads 2:58 PM. Everyone else seems to be comfortably situated as usual except for the one person who I'm most anxious about seeing.

Mr. Heavensbee makes his customary entrance from backstage carrying a thick stack of booklets in his arms. He laboriously lowers his pudgy frame down to sit on the edge of the stage and places the booklets on the floor beside him.

He clears his throat to get our attention before making his announcement. "Welcome back, my faithful thespians! It is, indeed, a very special day today. As promised, we will begin casting for our big production which I have right here!" he says with unshared enthusiasm, patting the stack next to him. "Before I reveal the play we are going to be performing, I have some very exciting news."

The small group of serious actors murmurs excitedly amongst themselves. The rest of us have already learned that Mr. Heavensbee's causes for excitement are typically not very exciting.

"I have recruited a bona fide, Hollywood actor to assist us with the production," he continues, prompting the class to finally buzz with anticipation. "Aha! And here he is now. Right on time!"

Twenty-three students turn our heads towards the back of the theater where none other than Peeta Mellark emerges from the shadows of the overhead balcony, followed by his Uncle Haymitch. At first, I'm confused. I scan the two doorways, still awaiting someone of Hollywood caliber to enter. I'm not alone. My classmates also seem to be having trouble making any connections as Peeta seats himself two rows behind me and his surly companion rounds the aisle to stand up front by our director.

Heavensbee must sense our puzzlement because he looks at us in disbelief. "Haymitch Abernathy! Quarter Quell? Anyone remember that show? He played Woody…" he attempts to jog a memory that doesn't exist in our generation.

"Oh! I think my mom used to watch that show!" Bonnie offers.

I hear Peeta snicker behind me, and I crack a knowing smile, but I force myself not to look back at him.

Our teacher quickly informs the club that Haymitch has been brought on board to assist him with the casting and direction of the play, as well as mentor us in our acting skills. As if I didn't dread the prospect of holding a public performance enough, now I have to look forward to working closely with Haymitch again.

After all the formalities of introducing Haymitch and his role, Mr. Heavensbee finally takes the booklet on the top of his stack and, with flourish, announces what play we will be putting on for the entire staff and student body of Snow High School, as well as whichever friends, family, and members of the community decide it is worth the price of a ticket to see us humiliate ourselves.

"We will be performing a somewhat original, modernized adaptation of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew. I wrote this script myself – thank you very much – and I must say, that I think it will be just the perfect balance of the classic comedy and modern setting." There is a split reaction from the crowd. Some are gasping with eagerness while others groan in reluctance. Heavensbee ignores the hum and continues, "Of course, our Drama Club is simply not large enough for the list of characters in Shakespeare's original, so I've taken some liberties in trimming it down to the most important roles."

A copy of the script finally reaches me and I disinterestedly turn a couple of pages until I get to the character list – Kate (Katherine), Pete (Petruchio), Bianca, Luke (Lucentio), and fifteen other secondary and minor characters. The remaining students would be part of the stage crew. I have no intention of auditioning for a speaking role. I already have my eye on the wardrobe supervisor or stagehand.

Unfortunately, our director and his new sidekick already have some people in mind to read for each of the major parts. I'm relieved when Mr. Heavensbee announces Cressida and Fulvia's names for the part of Kate, and they can't be any more self-satisfied about it. Finnick and Peeta are both asked to read for the part of the Pete.

Cressida and Fulvia's auditions for Kate both go well, if not a little overacted. They don't have to try very hard to be aloof. The tiebreaker goes to Cressida, however, since she is physically taller and Mr. Heavensbee thinks it's more fitting for the older sister to be taller. Fulvia is subsequently cast as the younger sister, Bianca. The two men in charge are ready to move on to the male auditions, when Johanna interjects.

"Whoa, hold up! So you're not even going to allow open auditions for the role of Bianca?" she demands. "What if one of us wanted to play a part?"

She argues with our director for a few minutes before Haymitch finally advises him to allow it. Finnick and I share a laugh at Johanna's expense. She seems pretty adamant about playing this particular role, but neither of us can imagine her playing a character to sweet and chaste. Fulvia doesn't seem to think Johanna is capable of taking on the role either, if the smug look on her face is any indication.

No one is prepared for the five-minute performance Johanna puts on. Her entire visage transforms. Her normally rigid, pompous stance curls into the perfect touch of shy girlishness. The aggression in her voice has suddenly become an airy lilt that nearly has us convinced that this is truly who Johanna is, and the brazen, insensitive antagonist is just a part she plays. Fulvia's jaw has nearly descended to the floor even before Mr. Heavensbee announces with unrestrained delight that Johanna has earned the role of Bianca.

When she returns to her seat with her normal swagger and plops down unceremoniously beside Finnick, he turns to her and says with disbelieving laugh, "What in the world was that?"

She responds with a mock humble shrug. Johanna's innocent girl act was so convincing, I'm briefly lulled into a false sense of camaraderie with her.

"Johanna, that was really good. How did you - "

"It's called 'acting', Brainless," she interjects, rendering me silent. "Even a bitch like me can pretend to be a nice girl. I'm surprised you don't know more about that."

I don't take her bait by responding. Instead, Finnick mumbles something to try to assuage her temper. I don't know how I'm managing to keep company with these two without Peeta. It's my own fault for not making more friends, but without the one person I felt comfortable with in Drama Club, I feel even more like a fish out of water. And I've suddenly become painfully aware of his heated stare boring into the back of my head.

"Peeta?" Haymitch calls out as if reading my thoughts. My cheeks burn from momentary feeling of being caught red-handed, when Peeta passes our row on the way up to the stage, and I realize he's been called up for his audition.

He is asked to read a couple of pages from the script as Mr. Heavensbee reads the parts of the other players. It's a scene where Luke goes to Pete's bar and propositions him about hiring Kate.

I should say that I'm not surprised at Peeta's convincing performance. After all, he has always had a way with words and his charisma is unmatched. But, short of our brief stint on the elementary school stage – which, quite frankly, I don't remember well – I've never seen Peeta act before. I'm almost certain he'll be awarded the lead role of Pete until Finnick performs his reading and tips the scale in his favor with just the right touch of egotism and obnoxiousness. Unlike the case with Johanna and the part of Bianca, none of the other guys in the room readily volunteer to audition for the role of her suitor, Luke. Thus, the part was defaulted to Peeta.

Finnick and Cressida go aside on their own to work on a scene for a chemistry read, as do Peeta and Johanna. Haymitch alternates meeting with each pair while Mr. Heavensbee speaks to the rest of us about casting the other roles. I tell him to what capacity I'm willing to participate and he agrees to let me be in charge of wardrobe in addition to a bit role as a passerby.

Once I have my assignment situated, my attention turns back to Haymitch and the others. Peeta and Johanna are off by the steps on the side of the stage trying to exchange lines in what appears to be an intimate scene. Peeta is leaning in, whispering something to Johanna, but they both keep erupting into fits of laughter. They start the scene over, attempting to get it right on the next try, but it seems that, every time they get to a part that requires affection or closeness, they break character.

Peeta turns away from Johanna who is forcibly trying to get him to look longingly into her eyes when he catches me spying on them. My eyes immediately dart away before his can. Instead, I divert my concentration toward Finnick and Cressida, growing more and more frustrated with Haymitch, and vice versa. The newly crowned Pete and Kate are trying to read their lines, but their mentor keeps shaking his head impatiently at them and swiping his face with his hands in exasperation. I cock my head in amusement and curiosity at them. As Haymitch explains something to them, which - by the look on his face - appears to be a repeat, he demonstrates what he wants for them to do. They're all the way near the back of the stage, and Heavensbee is talking to the class like an auctioneer, so I can't make out what they're saying, but it seems like Haymitch isn't satisfied with their chemistry. I'd like to see what he thinks of the other two who can't seem to get it together either.

Once the rest of the students have been assigned their roles, Mr. Heavensbee turns to Haymitch for feedback.

"I gotta tell you," Haymitch begins regretfully. "They may have all knocked it out of the park in their solo auditions, but unless they're acting opposite a telephone pole, it's not looking so great. Finnick acts like he's doing Braveheart or something, Cressida there sounds more like a serial killer than a shrew, and I think she enjoys the kissing scene a bit too much. Then you got Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there who have the sexual chemistry of 3rd graders."

Our director scratches the bald area of his head.

"What do you propose we do?" he asks under his breath.

"Mr. Heavensbee, sir," Fulvia raises her hand. "I'm still more than willing to take on the role of Kate should you be needing a more capable replacement."

Her underhanded remark does not go unnoticed as Cressida scowls with betrayal.

"I have another idea," Haymitch cuts in, rubbing the scruff on his chin. Heavensbee eyes him quizzically, but nods his head to give him the floor. "Katniss, c'mere."

I look around the room and back at Haymitch to clarify that he was actually talking to me.

"Me? What do you need me for?" I ask, still glued to my chair.

He waves me over to the stage. "Yes, you. Come on up here, Sweetheart."

I slowly stand up, suspicious of Haymitch's intentions. Every pair of eyes follows me down the aisle and up the steps as I awkwardly navigate past Peeta and Johanna's death glares, and over to where Haymitch is awaiting me.

"Wh-what do you want with me?"

He grabs the booklet from Cressida's grasp and hands it to me. "I want you to read the part of Kate. Go on."

Cressida looks at me in shock and probably a little – or a lot of – resentment. As if I am up on stage by choice.

"I don't want –" I begin, but I'm quickly interrupted by Mr. Heavensbee's own protests.

"Mr. Abernathy, I hardly think Katniss has the acting chops to take on a lead role like this."

I know I ought to agree with him, because he's absolutely right. But there's something about his certain lack of faith in me that makes me want to challenge him.

Haymitch crosses his arms over his chest in defiance. "Well, that's good. Because very little acting is involved. This shrew is all-natural."

I pinch my face and furrow my brows at him. "Really? This, coming from the drunken train wreck himself?" I bite back at Haymitch. "Wait, I guess that really does make you the expert, doesn't it?"

"Ladies and gentleman – case in point," Haymitch turns to address the auditions, holding out his hand towards me.

After a moment of absolute silence, Mr. Heavensbee, followed by the rest of the students, erupt into applause.

It turns out, Finnick playing the pompous, insolent suitor and me playing the spiteful, temperamental shrew is about as natural to us as breathing. I really don't want to be in this play, let alone playing the female lead, but now that Haymitch has suckered me into it, Mr. Heavensbee is convinced he's hit a goldmine.

I have to admit, however, that this character is far more suitable to me than Dorothy. I even manage to get through Finnick's kiss without vomiting. I try not to think about how many other lips and body parts his mouth has touched prior to mine. I try to focus on the audience and our directors watching our every move. I'm less repulsed and more methodical about the scene than I thought I'd be, and somehow I manage not to hand over the role to Fulvia instead.

When our chemistry scenes are done for the day, Peeta and Johanna take over the stage and try, in vain, to replicate the apparent ease of our performance. Peeta is trying so hard not to laugh at the act of kissing Johanna that he becomes visibly tense and rigid, even from where I'm watching several yards away.

Finnick stands up again and strides authoritatively back to the stage.

"Dude, let me show you how it's done," he says, nudging Peeta aside, and takes Johanna's face in his hands, gently bringing her lips to his. Her shocked expression melts away and her body goes limp in his arms. A couple seconds later, Finnick pulls himself away and turns back to Peeta. "There. Like that. What's so hard about kissing a beautiful woman?"

"Yeah, whatever, Finnick," Peeta replies with unmasked annoyance. "I get it. You want to kiss everybody. What's the count today? Cressida, Katniss, Johanna…"

And before anyone could possibly predict what would happen next, Finnick's mouth is on Peeta's, effectively shutting him up. I'm stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. *

Peeta is too stunned to react for a second then he shoves Finnick off of him. Finnick's initial mocking laugh is cut off when he stumbles back a few steps and his feet trip over an outstretched extension cord. What happens next seems like we are watching a slow motion replay. His tall frame tumbles back. Finnick lands on his rear and stretches out his hand to try and keep himself from falling further back, but his hand grazes the lip of the stage before he loses grip and flips ungracefully over the edge and landing four feet below on the polished cement floor.

"Oh, my gosh, Finnick!" Peeta shouts after him, looking down at him on the floor. "Man, are you alright? I'm so sorry!"

Finnick is grimacing in pain, clutching his shoulder and grunting loudly. Blood is dripping profusely from his nose. "Dude! What the hell was that for?"

"Finnick, are you okay?" Mr. Heavensbee says, peering down over the edge of the stage on his hands and knees. "Perhaps you ought to go to the nurse's office for an ice pack, maybe?"

He tries to push himself up off the floor, but his arm gives way beneath him. His painful groans reverberate through the auditorium's acoustics. Peeta throws his legs over the stage and hops down to help Finnick up. Finnick swats him away, refusing his assistance.

"I got it!" he barks at Peeta. "You've done enough."

"I'm sorry, Finn. I didn't mean to push you so hard."

Finnick rises awkwardly to his feet, wincing and clutching his nose. He limps away towards the exit, leaving the rest of us to wonder what will become of our leading man.

I spot Gale's car parked in the semi-circle driveway in front of the main office. His seat is slightly reclined as he naps in his car, waiting for me to get out. I rap on the passenger window to wake him and wait for him to reach over and unlock my door. Peeta, Johanna, and the other Drama students flock towards the student parking lot, followed by a few cheerleaders just getting out of practice.

"Hey, Everdeen!" Finnick calls out to me from beside a Toyota Camry parked several yards behind Gale's car. His arm is in a blue sling and his nose is covered in gauze and medical tape, but his facial bruising is peeking out around it. "Make sure you tell Romeo 'thanks' for me. I'm gonna look like crap for weeks!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have tried to make out with him," I reply facetiously. "You should learn that 'No' means no."

He shakes his head at me, grabbing the bridge of his nose and grimacing from the movement, before sliding into the passenger seat of his mother's car. I do the same.

"Thanks for picking me up."

"Any time," Gale replies. Mrs. Odair's car passes us and Gale nods in its direction. "What was that?"

I tug at the seatbelt a few times before it finally releases some slack to pull around me. "Ugh. That's Finnick. A pain in the ass. He's in Drama with me."

"What happened to him? Did you beat the crap out of him or something?" Gale chuckles as he starts up the engine and pulls out of the driveway.

"Nah. He tried to kiss Peeta and consequently got pushed off the stage," I explain.

Gale responded with an incredulous laugh. "Wow, and I thought marching band was an incestuous bunch."

Gale stays at my house, studying, while I prepare a measly dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and frozen corn. I'm alternating between checking the sandwiches for the perfect golden crust and stirring the corn in a pot of boiling water when the house phone rings. I quickly flip over the grilled cheese and turn the knob for the corn to the 'off' position before wiping my hands on my jeans and answering the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Katniss?" a familiar British accent replies on the other end of the line.

"Yes? Mr. Heavensbee?"

"Yes. Yes. Well, I know this doesn't directly concern you," he says. "But I thought you might like to know that, Mr. Odair's injuries may prevent him from recovering in time for the performance, so we've preemptively re-casted his part. I just wanted you to know, you will have a new leading man."

My stomach twists itself into knots. My pulse races and a smothering heat rises up my face. I have a very strong feeling I know who is going to be playing the role of Pete. The bread on the pan is sizzling loudly and begins to smoke a little, but I can't think well enough to turn it off.

I don't catch everything Mr. Heavensbee says, but one word – one name – is uttered, confirming my fears.

"…Peeta," his voice interrupts my swirling thoughts. "I've already spoken with him and he's accepted the role. I know you two are good friends, so I don't have any doubt you'll do a fantastic job together!"

"Umm." I swallow audibly. "Don't you think it's a little unfair to Finnick to replace him with the person who injured him in the first place?"

Mr. Heavensbee bats down my concern and insists that Peeta and I will do a good job. It occurs to me that Haymitch may have had something to do with the decision, which infuriates me to think he's manipulating the situation between Peeta and me.

When our conversation is through, I slam the phone back onto its cradle. I turn to find Gale in the kitchen, tending to the burning food, and staring at me curiously.

"What was that about?" he asks, draining the corn in the colander. "Why are you so pissed?"

I'm too upset to filter myself and before I know it, I'm griping about the situation to Gale.

He eyes me perplexed. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"What?" I snap back at him, not in the mood for his joking.

Gale rolls his eyes at me. "I just don't understand why you're so mad about Peeta getting the part. You didn't seem all that fond of that Finnick guy anyway. It just seems to me like you ought to be grateful to have to pretend to like someone that's already your friend."

His gaze lands on mine and lingers there. I can see questions swirling in his head. My palms begin to sweat and my heart is pounding so hard, I'm sure Gale can heart it. The secrets, the charade – it all becomes too much. It is in that very moment, I break.

"He's not." My voice comes out like a wisp of air, hardly even audible.

"What was that?" Gale urges. "I can barely hear you."

My hands come up to press against the side of my burning face, trying to suppress the pulsing in my temples.

"He's not, I said. Peeta's not my friend," I clarify. "I-I mean, he's not… just my friend."

Gale's expression remains blank – not angry, not hurt, not confused – but it is that lack of expression that speaks volumes; for what is also missing from his face is surprise. Gale is not surprised by what I'm trying to tell him.

"So what you're saying is that Peeta is more than your friend?" he asks, his tone forcibly even.

I drop eye contact with him and stare down at the hairline crack in the travertine floor tile. "He was. This past summer. I mean we were never like… official or anything. It was just a thing, I don't know."

Gale turns around to mindlessly plate the food. "So when did this 'thing' end?"

The truth is that it ended that day he showed up on my doorstep. But somehow, I can't get myself to tell Gale this.

"At the end of summer. It wasn't serious," I tell him, trying to play it casual with a shrug.

"When I got here?" I think Gale means to ask me a question, but it comes out more like a statement. I nod anyway in answer. "How long were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

His tone has broken its evenness and the fire I'm used to is beginning to emerge.

"I'm sorry!" I shout back somewhat insincerely. "I wanted to tell you. I-I just didn't know how. Everything was great when you got here and I didn't want to mess it up. I didn't know what you'd think or how you would feel after –"

I stop myself. I know we'll have to discuss the kiss that happened between us, but I feel like, if I'm the one to bring it up, I'll be admitting to Gale that I've been thinking about it.

He's not fooled. "After what? After I kissed you? After I basically admitted to you how I felt about you?" His voice has risen so much, I'm worried Prim might hear him from her room. "I don't get it, Katniss. After everything you and I have been through, you basically shut me down, ignored me all summer while you hooked up with some random guy you barely even knew and – "

"Wait, hold up," I interject. "Before you go jumping to conclusions, Peeta and I didn't 'hook up.' We never slept… we never had… you know. I can't believe you'd even think that!"

"You can't really blame me here, Katniss. I don't know what to believe. Here I thought I was doing you a favor by backing off, giving you space because you weren't ready for a relationship. Come to find out, you just didn't want to be with me," he says, masking his hurt feelings with anger. "What was so different about him?"

"Gale, please don't. It was just a summer fling. It was… it was nothing!"

The word left my mouth and I could still taste its bitterness on my tongue.

"Catnip," he says my nickname in a quieter tone. "He's still your friend. One that lives down the street from you, gives you rides, hangs out at your house for movie nights and holidays, fixes your pipes. That's not 'nothing.' If it was, you wouldn't be getting so upset about having to act like a couple on stage."

"I'm just upset, because –"

"Can you just answer this – why not me?"

I stare blankly back at him, unable to find the right words or the right reasons to give him. There's an indefinite length of silence hanging between us before he finally just turns to leave. I don't stop him. I don't even say goodbye. I just shut the door behind him and wait there, leaning against the hard, wooden barrier until the faintest trace of his engine has completely faded away.

Needless to say, I skip out on the now unpalatable dinner sitting on the counter – the bread blackened, the cheese coagulated. I head straight for my room where I collapse onto the bed and bury myself under my blanket.

Gale's question plagues my mind for a good hour.

Why not him?

Without a doubt, I know I love him and he loves me. I know I can trust him, which is probably the most significant and rare quality. So, why not Gale?

I jump, as the phone ringing interrupts my marathon of thoughts. I turn to check the time on my alarm clock – "10:25 PM" illuminates the nightstand in the darkness of my room. The ringing stops after just three repetitions, which leads me to think either Prim has answered it or my mom is home from work now. I'm just happy I don't have to entertain whoever chose to call at this ungodly hour on a weeknight.

A few minutes have passed before my doorknob turns and my mom's silhouette appears in the light of the hallway.

"Katniss?" she says, her worried voice giving away what her face cannot. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, Mom."

"Sweetie, something's happened."

*Catching Fire, page 280

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