Because That's What You And I Do,

I Curl Up, Make Myself Smaller, Try To Disappear Entirely. Wrapped In Silence, I Slide My Bracelet That Reads 'mentally Disoriented' Around And Around My Wrist.

I Feel Like I Owe Him Something, And I Hate Owing People. Maybe If I Had Thanked Him At Some Point, I'd Be Feeling Less Conflicted Now. I Thought About It A Couple Of Times, But The Opportunity Never Seemed To Present Itself. And Now It Never Will. Because We're Going To Be Thrown Into An Arena To Fight To The Death. Exactly How Am I Supposed To Work In A Thank-you In There? Somehow It Just Won't Seem Sincere If I'm Trying To Slit His Throat.

That's Right. Who Am I Thinking Of? Oh, I Know. It's Cinna Who Likes You. But That's Mainly Because You Didn't Try To Run When He Set You On Fire," Says Peeta. "on The Other Hand, Haymitch... Well, If I Were You, I'd Avoid Haymitch Completely. He Hates You.

He Wants As Many Victors As Possible For The Cameras To Follow In The Capitol. Thinks It Makes For Better Television." "are You And Beetee Going?" I Ask. "as Many Young And Attractive Victors As Possible," Haymitch Corrects Himself. "so, No. We'll Be Here.

They're Betting On How Long I'll Live!" I Burst Out. "they're Not My Friends!" "well, Try And Pretend!" Snaps Effie. Then She Composes Herself And Beams At Me. "see, Like This. I'm Smiling At You Even Though You're Aggravating Me.