Home Is in Your Arms

Katniss and Peeta watch in wonder as buildings of every color pass by. The streets are filled with people wearing clothes and colors completely foreign to those in the Districts. When people begin to recognize a tribute train pulling in they start pointing and cheering. Katniss turns away from the window, suddenly looking disgusted. Peeta stays, however, smiling and waving to the crowd.

When we pull into the station, out of view from the forming mass of people, Peeta turns to us. Katniss is staring at him.

"Who knows?" he says. "One of them may be rich."

"Quite a few of them very well might be." I respond. A tinge of displeasure is laced into my statement.

I have always been jealous of the Capitol citizens. They all have money, much more than anyone in the Districts, and they don't know what it's like to be hungry. Their idea of a bad day is forgetting they had a hair appointment or breaking one of their perfectly polished nails.

Getting off the train is much easier than getting on. There aren't nearly as many cameras as there were at the District 12 station. One would assume there would be more, but only a few are necessary. This is because one camera in the Capitol has strong enough reception to project the live footage to as many as thirty television screens. The reception in the Districts is weaker, so they need more.

Effie, Haymitch, myself, and our tributes squeeze through the small crowd and into cars waiting to take us to the Remake Center. The ride is short, and once inside, Peeta and Katniss meet their secondary stylists then are whisked off to be cleaned up for the chariot ride to the City Circle. Even though tonight is not a night Haymitch or myself will be showcased, I still decide to have myself made up. It's been a whole year since I've done so. I'm not sure where Haymitch went, but I tell Effie what I'm doing and that I'll meet her in an hour and a half. She's ecstatic that I'm "treating" myself and lets me leave without any negative fuss.

Some time later I meet Effie by the cars that will take us to our viewing balcony. As expected, she gushes over my appearance.

"Oh sweetie, you look simply stunning!" she trills.

I blush and look down at myself. I had my eyebrows, underarms, and legs waxed, my hair trimmed and curled into big, full spirals, light makeup applied, and even went as far as to have a tattoo painted in the corner of my left eye. It isn't permanent, of course. The silver swirly design will disappear after a week or so. I also picked out a few new pieces of clothing from a book; all of the outfits except the tight silver knee length dress I'm currently wearing have already been shipped to our loft in the Training Center.

"I don't really recall you getting this made up before." Effie continues as we slide into our car. Haymitch is fast asleep next to me. "This isn't for a certain someone is it?" I would be stupid if I didn't know who she was referring to.

Effie's question makes me blush more; I'm thankful for the dimmed light of the car. I fake a chuckle and wave her off.

"Oh no, no." I reply, not meeting her gaze. Instead I just turn my head to the opposite side and look out the window. "It just seems that we have a good pair this year. In the event that we have a victor, I should get accustomed to being dressed to my best. And besides, it doesn't hurt to pamper myself a little."

Is it really just for myself though? As much as I try to tell myself it is, something in the back of my mind keeps telling me it's not. That it's not just for myself. That deep down, I'm hoping to impress the boy with eyes brighter than my own. That I'm trying to impress a boy that has a very high chance of dying within the next two weeks. When this realization hits me I'm suddenly overcome with an immense sadness.

The rest of the short drive is spent with Effie rambling about how excited she is for this year's Games and how she hopes she gets promoted if District 12 has a winner. I only half listen to her, even as I wake Haymitch and we sit at our balcony to watch the chariot ride.

As the chariots make their way into view, I shift my attention to them. Some costumes I'm impressed by, others I'm just plain bored with. The same goes for the tributes themselves. Seeing some of these teenagers in person truly makes me happy they weren't in my Games.

Suddenly a bright flickering from the corner of my eye catches my attention. When I see what it is I gasp. From my right Effie "oohs" and "aahs" and Haymitch gives a low whistle. Coming down the street towards City Center, pulled by a horse as black as District 12's coal, are Peeta and Katniss. They smile and wave to the fans that are screaming their names. The two match in black suits, their hair and makeup elegantly done. What takes my breath away -and also scares me a little- is the fact that they're on fire.

In the darkness of the setting sun they look brilliant. And Peeta... He looks astonishingly gorgeous. My heart nearly pounds out of my chest and I almost jump out of my seat to cheer for him. I want to yell and chant his name like the crazed fans around me. Upon closer inspection though, I see that the two of them are holding hands. Suddenly I feel a twinge of hurt and all the things I wanted to do don't sound so desirable now.

Before the ceremony is over Effie, Haymitch, and myself go to the Training Center to meet up with the tributes. In the time it took for President Snow to give his speech I had convinced myself to not be upset over the sight of Peeta and Katniss holding hands. I had told myself that it must have been for show and that's it. I felt pretty confident in that thought and was almost back to my usual cheery self by the time their chariot pulled in.

Haymitch is nowhere to be seen, so I'm assuming he decided to go back to the loft before everyone else. I stand back a little with Effie as the stylists -whose names are Cinna and Portia, I've learned- rush to the chariot to help our tributes down and remove their flaming cloaks.

Peeta glances over at me and double takes, noticing my new appearance. When he smiles at me I feel my cheeks heat up. In response I smile softly back and give him a thumbs up, signaling he and Katniss did a good job. Our eyes linger on each other for a few more seconds until he turns away, distracted by Katniss removing her hand from his. Honestly, I didn't even notice they were still connected.

The two start exchanging words, and at this point I'm left by myself because Effie is talking to Cinna and Portia a few feet away. Peeta smiles at Katniss, a similar way he's smiled at me, and I can't help but feel a little jealous. I've never seen him smile at her like that since, well, ever, but I've been graced with that smile more than once.

What happens next sucks the air right out of my lungs. My face drains of color and my arms feel like they're made of the heaviest stone. Tears immediately spring to my eyes, but at the same time, I wish I had a whip so I could strangle Katniss and break her neck with it.

After Peeta smiles at her, she leans up and kisses his cheek, right on his bruise.



Effie, myself, and the tributes take the elevator to our loft as she talks to them about how she was talking to apparently everyone this afternoon. It must've been while I was in the Remake Center. In any case, I don't even breathe in their direction. Instead I face the back of the elevator and stare out the crystal wall, down at the city streets.

Even though I'm mad and upset at Katniss moreso than Peeta, I'm also generally mad at myself. If there's anything a mentor shouldn't do, it's be attracted to one of their tributes. Not only is it breaking a rule I'm sure, but it's just plain stupid. There's just over a four percent chance he or she will come home alive, and if they don't then the person at home is left with nothing but a broken heart and a memory.

When the elevator reaches our floor I immediately rush out. I'm in my room in a flash, and my door closes probably a little too hard.

Once my door is shut I rip my dress off and get ready for a shower. I program the shampoo and body scrub to a scent called sandalwood and get lost in the water for the better part of a half hour. When I'm done I dry my hair and program my closet for a simple blue satin scoop neck shirt and loose black pants.

I sit on my big bed and put my head in my hands. I'm a little hungry but have no appetite. Effie will probably be upset if I don't show for dinner but I don't really care. I'll just make an excuse about being tired and how I fell asleep early.

Tears well up in my eyes as I begin to think about this evening's events. I don't know what to make of it. I'm obviously attracted to Peeta. Does he feel the same about me? He seems like it sometimes. Should I even be this upset over a boy I officially met only two days ago? Probably not, but I can't help it. He understands my pain ad he's the only person I've physically talked to and confided in about my last few hours of my Hunger Games. Silently I cry, finally letting out the pressure that has built up behind my eyelids.

I don't know how long I sit like this for. Nobody's come to collect me for dinner, so I don't know if it has started or not. I've cried, but not enough to make my eyes red and puffy.

Suddenly I hear a knock at my door. At first I ignore it, but on the third knock I respond.

"What?" It almost sounds too snippy.

"It's Peeta." My heart jumps into my throat. "Can I open the door?"

"Yeah, sure." I mumble in response. I don't think he heard me, but then the door opens and he pokes his head in. Drying my eyes quickly, I look at him.

"Hey. Dinner's about to be served. Are you coming?" he asks.

"I'm not really hungry." I lie, looking away.

"Are you sure? Effie was asking where you were."

"Effie freaks out over the tiniest things." I retort. I know he put that lightly; Effie's probably throwing a fit.

"Are you okay?" Peeta questions. He opens the door fully to stand in the threshold.

"Yup, I'm fine." I respond. I look down at the bedspread and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Shouldn't you get back to Katniss anyway? I'll bet she's waiting for you."

Peeta stands in the doorway for a moment, not speaking, then something clicks inside his head.

"Are you upset because Katniss kissed me?" he asks, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of my bed.

"No." I respond a little too quickly. "Why would I care about that? I'm your mentor; I can't have interest in my tributes." There, that covers me up a little better. I still don't meet his gaze though, regardless of being able to feel his eyes on me. I pick at the blanket, suddenly interested in it.

"Katniss is cute and all," Peeta says. "But even covered in flames she's still not as beautiful as you."

"Peeta, I just said I can't-"

"I know what you said." he interrupts. "But even Haymitch can see there's a connection between us. I know we've only formally met two days ago, but it feels like I've known you forever. You just seem so familiar to me."

Peeta rests a hand on top of mine, and I realize I've torn the threading from the blanket. He looks down to my line of vision and I look at him. He gives me a soft smile that resembles the one he gave me before. I look up at him from behind a curtain of wavy hair that has fallen forward. He moves closer and brushes the hair over my shoulder. Subconsciously I lean into it as our eyes lock, his icy blues into my sapphires.

Slowly we lean in, Peeta's gaze moving from my eyes to my lips. I can feel his breath on me and I can smell his scent. It's intoxicating, smelling like a mix of summer rain and Capitol cologne. Our lips are only an inch apart and I close my eyes.

"Freya! Peeta!"

We pull away so fast it's as if we were electrocuted. I look at the door and Peeta looks out the window. I want to kick Effie as she appears in the doorway.

"If you two don't come to dinner you won't eat until tomorrow!" she reprimands. "Come on now! We're waiting for you!"

The woman is so exasperated as she howls out orders that I think her wig might fall off. She gives us a knowing look and scurries out of the room. Peeta and I stand and make our way out of the bedroom as well.

"Even Effie can see it." Peeta remarks.

"Effie didn't see anything except us sitting on a bed talking." I reply as we walk down the hallway.

Peeta looks over at me and smiles. I do the same, feeling a warm fluttering sensation through my body. We walk into the main room together and sit down for dinner, only to find out Katniss isn't here yet either. Not that I care, but now I really want to kick Effie for ruining my moment with Peeta.

I formally introduce myself to Cinna and Portia and Katniss enters as we're exchanging pleasantries and conversation. A moment later Haymitch comes in, looking quite well groomed. This is a first. I don't tell him I'm impressed; he probably wouldn't appreciate my compliment anyway.

Over dinner and wine everyone makes small talk. Multiple times throughout the meal I feel Peeta's foot nudge mine or our fingers brush as we both reach for a roll. The more wine I consume the happier I become. Haymitch, who's considerably more sober, myself, and the stylists discuss interview costumes and I find myself genuinely excited about them. Even though I dislike Katniss, I can't deny that she is a beautiful girl.

After dinner an Avox girl brings out a cake and lights it on fire at the table. Katniss looks up at her and says,

"What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" A small slur in her speech tells me she's a little drunk. "That's the last thing I wa- oh! I know you!"

The Avox's face is contorted to an expression of terror and I feel like my stomach has jumped into my throat. The silent girl shakes her head in denial and leaves quickly. Katniss looks at the table to see everyone staring at her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie snaps. "The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" she asks.

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak." Haymitch says. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order." Effie adds. "Of course, you don't really know her."

I look at Katniss over the rim of my wine glass and clear my throat just quietly enough to catch only her attention. She looks at me and, with wide eyes, I give a subtle shake of my head.

"No, I guess not, I just-" she stammers. She obviously doesn't know how to respond. Peeta and I glance at each other. Peeta suddenly snaps his fingers.

"Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly."

"Oh yes!" I exclaim. "Now that you mention it, I see it too!" In reality, I have no idea who Delly is. She must have been in different classes in school.

"Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair." Katniss says.

"Something about the eyes, too." adds Peeta.

With the three of us agreeing on the same thing, everyone else at the table relaxes. They bought our lies about a girl who probably looks nothing like the Avox.

"Oh, well. If that's all it is." Cinna says. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut."

After our dessert is done we move to the sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies. Katniss and Peeta are obviously the stars of the show, and everyone marvels at their appearance.

"Whose idea was the hand holding?" Haymitch asks. I scowl but no one notices.

"Cinna's." Peeta replies, and I relax a little, knowing Peeta didn't initiate the gesture.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion." Haymitch comments. "Very nice."

I never really thought of it that way, but it does make sense. I'm still not thrilled about it though; they could've done something else.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me and Freya for breakfast and we'll tell you exactly how we want you to play it." Haymitch says to the tributes. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

Peeta shoots me a quick smile and mouths "goodnight" as he and Katniss leave the room. I look to Haymitch, ready to get started on a strategy and find him already staring at me with eyebrows raised. Without even asking I already know why he's giving me that look. I pretend I didn't see what he's hinting at.

"So how are we gonna do this?" I ask cheerily. Haymitch looks me over a moment longer, as if deep in thought.

"We have to discover their strengths and make sure they don't use them." Haymitch finally says as he gets up to fix a drink.

"Why wouldn't they use their strengths?" I ask, confused. "You want them to sharpen their skills to get a solid score."

"This is true, but we don't want the others to see what they're good at. And they need to learn other things."

"I wish you would've taught me that." I mumble, looking into my glass of wine. "I lost twenty pounds because I really didn't focus on setting traps for food."

"I'm well aware, sweetheart. But you were a lost cause. I honestly don't know how you won."

Haymitch's words hurt as badly as a tracker jacker's sting. I wish Effie, Cinna, and Portia weren't in their own conversation so they could yell at him. Unfortunately for me though, Effie appears to be a little drunk and wouldn't be much help, and I don't know Cinna and Portia well enough to ask them to defend me.

I sit my wine glass on the table next to me and stand from my seat. As I turn to make my way to my bedroom, Haymitch speaks up.

"Oh and Freya." he says.

Turning sharply, I shoot the man a glare.

"What?" I spit.

"Whatever you and Peeta have going on needs to stop. He's going into the arena in a few days. It'll all be a waste if he dies in there."

My blood boils in my veins as I listen to Haymitch talk. I want to punch him square in the face. I hate him.

"First of all," I begin, crossing my arms over my chest. "I do not have relations with my tributes. For that exact reason. Second, if I were to have relations with said tributes, it's none of your damn business. Third, if you try to make it your business, I'll kill you in your sleep."

Haymitch snorts out a chuckle but doesn't say anything. He knows that even though he's stronger, I could very well end his life. Turning on my heel once again, I leave. On my way out I bid Effie and the stylists goodnight, happily, as though nothing happened.