Working Out

Chapter 1: Knives and Dumbbells

AN: After I read the 2-3 pages in Catching Fire about the Victors' training I imagined a bunch of comical workout moments and romantic scenes with Gale. Anything you recognize is from Suzanne Collin's The Hunger Games. Italics are for internal monologues and dreams. Each chapter equals a week of training. I hope you all enjoy.

Day After the Quell Announcement, Tuesday:

"...two of us are coming home from the Capitol. One mentor and one victor,'' says Peeta. "Effie's sending me recordings of all the living victors. We're going to watch their Games and learn everything we can about how they fight. We're going to put on weigh and get strong. We're going to start acting like Careers. And one of us is going to be victor again whether you like it or not!" He sweeps out of the room, slamming the front door.

Haymitch and I wince at the bang.

"I don't like self-righteous people," I say.

"What's to like?" says Haymitch, who begins sucking the dregs out of the empty bottles.

"You and me. That's who he plans on coming home."

"Well, then the joke's on him.".

"I'm not working out with him." I sigh, knowing when Peeta suggests we do something, it's usually in our best interest to do it. In that irritable way, he's a lot like Haymitch, although, I'll never tell either of them that. I don't want Peeta to direct a single day of mine, let alone every hour of every day before the Quell. They're my final months and I'll do with them as I please.

"The nerve of that boy." Haymitch growls deep in the back of his throat. I suspect he would be cursing Peeta out right now if he hadn't have been shocked near speechless. His face flickers with different emotions as if his thoughts are gaining momentum in his agitated, alcohol addled mind. I see the switch from deep betrayal to the sadness he tried to hide before last year's Games.

Peeta who is normally so gentle, yelled at both of us just like our District 11 screaming match when he found out we'd been covering up President Snow's threat. It's always unsettling when he loses his temper, but today he took on a completely different persona. Combative. Relentless. Unflinching. I've only seen that side a handful of times. First, in the arena when I was under the effects of the Tracker Jacker venom. Then with every next threat. The fight with Cato and the Mutts. The Peacekeepers' aiming guns on us after I riled the crowd. Now he's doing it again, only this time it seems the anger is directed purely at me and Haymitch.

"You aren't going to work out with him are you?" I ask.

He scoffs. "No. I don't see the point." I silently wonder if Haymitch is more upset about the cutoff of alcohol or that Peeta demands we start a workout regimen, which is something I can't see Haymitch being able to pull off.

After we finish our soup I tell him I have to get home, but that's a lie. I just don't want to be around a Haymitch that's both hungover and sober, because that ranks pretty high up there in the land of scary. It's almost as bad as the tributes in my nightmares. I'll let him be for a couple days to work off the withdrawal symptoms, but vow to make sure he doesn't starve.

Wednesday:

I cautiously enter Haymitch's house to bring him some more soup. It's lucky I'm prepared, because when he hears the door open he throws his disgusting knife in my direction. Well, 'in my direction' isn't all that accurate. It'd be closer to say he tried to throw it straight in front of him but it flew towards the kitchen table and stuck in the wooden leg. Great shot. Sometimes I can't believe he won a Quarter Quell with 48 tributes, let alone the Hunger Games in general. What did he do? Hide until everyone killed each other or died from other causes?

I recall Haymitch's pitiful attempt to swipe at Peeta for dumping his liquor down the drain and begin to think maybe Peeta's right. Maybe we should train, because if Peeta's name is reaped and Haymitch volunteers, Haymitch will be quite useless in making it through the Quell. Wait, what am I thinking? If he goes in with me, what would we do? Become allies, only to have to kill each other at the end if we're lucky to make it that far? Would we split up and hope someone else kills the other so we wouldn't have to? I already know what my plan is if Peeta is the other tribute, but I haven't thought about what would happen if Haymitch volunteered for Peeta. What then?

Haymitch interrupts my frantic thoughts. "Sorry. I thought you were her." He stumbles towards the couch and takes a seat, rubbing his eyes and temples.

Her? Hmm. I don't think I wanna tug on that thread while he's having hallucinations.. "It's fine." I bring the soup over to where he's sitting, hoping his knifecapades are over and he can restrain himself now, at least during the meal.

Peeta must have seen me walk over with the soup because a few seconds after Haymitch starts eating Peeta walks in with a loaf of bread. Bread does go excellent with soup. I should have known he would find some reason to wander over here and pester us about becoming Careers. He puts the bread down on a nearby coffee table and reaches his hand out for the knife, but Haymitch only grunts with his mouth full and swats his hand away like he's a pesky fly. Peeta's brows furrow. "Where's your knife?" Haymitch ignores him and shovels soup like a starving man.

I walk over to the table, pull it out of the wood and bring it over to Peeta. I extend it out to him but he doesn't take it. An uneasy expression spreads across his face as he looks from the knife to my face, and then he tenses and his eyes widen with panic and rage.

"You threw a knife at her!"

Haymitch sets his spoon down and rubs his temples with vexed circles. "Look boy..." He stands to push Peeta and his screaming away from his pounding, sober head. But Peeta's angrier than I've ever seen him, and with his training in wrestling he's much faster than Haymitch who just barely manages to raise his arms to his chest before Peeta grabs them, spins him around, and slams him down hard on the couch. Haymitch exhales loudly and it seems like Peeta knocked the wind straight out of him.

"I can't believe you Haymitch!" Peeta screams even louder, his fury multiplying with every second. "How could you do that? What if you hurt her?" He suddenly pulls Haymitch's arms above his back even further and then slams him down again harder than the first time. "What if you killed her!" he howls.

I jump involuntarily. Yep, that's for sure the loudest I have ever heard Peeta's voice. I didn't know a human being could hit that decibel.

Suddenly Haymitch jerks his body to the right and Peeta goes flying off the couch and lands angrily on the floor. They both fly at each other, huffing and cursing here and there, although the cursing is coming mostly from Haymitch.

I had always kind of wondered who would win in a fight between Haymitch and Peeta. Just out of curiosity. But this doesn't really seem like a fair fight, what with Haymitch having withdrawals and Peeta's prosthetic leg. Nonetheless, I'm intrigued enough to let this go on for a bit because I want to see who will win. Or should I say, who is angrier. So I just stand there wiggling the knife in and out of my fingers watching the two idiots try to pin one another. Maybe this is what it's like when you're close to a wrestling match. I was always sitting far away in the bleachers when we watched the matches at school, so I didn't really see the intricate movements then. But now I do. I've got the best seat in the house.

They wrestle around for control of the others' shoulders. Haymitch is now throwing punches and kicking violently at Peeta, but despite Peeta's anger his movements are controlled and smooth just like when he was wrestling. Sometimes Haymitch gets the better hand and whips Peeta around onto his back, and Peeta struggles to regain control only having one real leg after all. Haymitch sputters, "Boy that fake leg's really got ya down doesn't it!"

"Yeah well at least it's better than losing a fight to someone twice as young as you!" He spits out as he uses three swift moves to flip Haymitch to the ground and pin him to the point that Haymitch can't move an arm or leg. He just lays on the ground, spewing out curses like if he doesn't the world will come to an end. Haymitch is thrashing viciously until his breathing becomes so labored that Peeta finally lets go of him and they both slump to the floor breathing hard.

I go to the kitchen, pull out a couple clean, I hope, glasses and fill them with water. I give them to Peeta and Haymitch and raise Peeta's arm in victory. "And Peeta is the winner!" I declare smiling for the first time since the third Quarter Quell was announced.

But Peeta snatches away his arm, stands up, and looks at me square in the eye. He looks at me for a few seconds and my entertained smile fades into an apprehensive one. I had never seen Peeta so mad before. And I had never seen him fight Haymitch. Two firsts. I wonder what's coming for me now.

Peeta shocks me by quickly grabbing the middle of my back and presses me into a hurried kiss. He's never kissed me like this, and I wonder what on God's green earth got jumbled around enough in his head during the fight where he would kiss me so passionately when he seems to be furious at me too. Wasn't he mad at me for a whole list of reasons, but starting with "I chose Gale"?

His soft lips drag me away from my thoughts and I'm so shocked that I kiss him back as hard as he is kissing me and I hear a little whimper escape his throat. Then as soon as it hits me that we are both enjoying this kiss, like in the cave, he pulls back his lips and lets go of my back like he had burned himself by touching me. We both wobble a bit to steady ourselves, and then he looks at me and says, "Don't come back here again until he" and he points with disdain at Haymitch "is not having withdrawals. I'll take care of him until then." And he stalks off and shuts the door with a bang.

Just as soon as the door shuts I turn around and find a teenager where Haymitch used to be lying down. A sly grin spreads over his face and he snickers as he grabs the knife. He lunges toward me and slices my stomach. When he sits on the couch he turns back into Haymitch and he just sits there and says, "I promised, sweetheart." He glides off the couch, gripping the knife tightly in his hand, and walks towards the door saying, "Now, to get the boy and be done with this." He slams the door hard.

Thursday:

I jolt awake and suddenly pull up the bottom of my shirt until it reveals a stomach that isn't bleeding. My fingers glide over my lips and I start wondering if this was going to be what my dreams consisted of now. Confusing, hurried kisses with Peeta. Taking orders from him. Haymitch reverting from old to young and back again, slicing me and Peeta open. Or will my dreams revert to my typical Hunger Games nightmares? I'm almost not sure which ones I prefer. Both of them startle me awake. Both of them leave my mind feeling foggy, pained, and weighed down.

I kick off the covers and realize that it's actually morning. I slept through the night. How did that happen? The sun is rising slowly, blocked by a silvery sky with spots of baby blue, the color of Peeta's eyes, poking through here and there. Peeta's eyes. Peeta! I remember my dream and try to block out the fact that our mentor and friend just went on a killing spree in the Victor's Village.

I realize that not only do I have no idea what Haymitch's fighting skills are, besides being a raging drunk who carries a knife, I have no clue what else he might know how to do. Peeta and I certainly don't have as much training as some of the other victors, and come to think of it, we don't even know who they are. I remember some of the victors from past years, but that in and of itself is a vague recollection. What's more fuzzy is the actual Games where the victors won. How had they won again? Who was a Career? Which victors should we feel the most threatened by? What skills did they have?

I wash my face with cold water, throw on different clothes, and walk over to Peeta's house. I'm sure he's up. He's always up at the break of dawn baking something.

I open his front door and walk in the entryway. It smells like bread the moment I walk in. Yep, he's definitely baking. I walk to the kitchen and there he is with a small mixing bowl in his arms beating away at it. I see a fresh loaf of bread cooling on a large wire rack sitting on his white countertops.

He looks up at me and I see the raised crescents under his eyes. He's obviously did not get a full night's sleep.

"What are you doing here?" he startles me.

My, my, he's gotten awful testy since they announced the Quell. Eh, I guess at least part of my dream had mirrored reality.

I don't understand him. He knows I have feelings for Gale. He doesn't have to worry about the engagement anymore since I'm for sure going back into the Games. And he can ask Haymitch for whatever he wants. Why won't he just settle for Haymitch and I going in together so that the one decent Victor in District 12 can stay behind? How can he not see that he is the most useful Victor out of all of this to keep the rebellion going? No one can speak as eloquently as he does. Wasn't he the one who said we were wrong to try to calm down the districts? It's his turn to be what the rebellion needs. I don't have anything to offer them. I'm just a stupid girl who managed to pull out some poisonous berries to test the limits of the Games and get him tangled up in this mess.

"I came to tell you that I want to workout with you," I say in an irritated voice. "And, I think it is a good idea to watch the Games too."

"Good. Now we just have to convince Haymitch." Peeta says as he turns his attention back to the mixing bowl. "We'll start tomorrow. That's when the tapes from Effie will arrive."

"Ok," I breathe, and I turn to go back home but he says one more thing, still not bothering to look up from his mixing.

"We start at 9:00. Wear light clothing and bring water."

"Haymitch will still be asleep at 9:00," I retort.

"Well then you'll have to get him up, won't you?" he spits back as he looks up briefly, raising his eyebrows slightly at me.

"Fine," I mutter and walk off before my mind comes up with biting remarks and I accidentally say one to him.

Workout, Day 1: Friday

We met up at Peeta's house at 9:00 a.m. on the dot. I went to Haymitch's house at 8:30 to get him up and feed him some breakfast, but he was already awake and sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in. He had some bread on a plate, that he was nibbling on, and he was holding onto one of his empty liquor bottles. He was clutching it like he was a woman fighting off labor pains and muttering something to himself that I couldn't quite make out.

Peeta had started working on Tuesday after he came by Haymitch's and verbally bludgeoned us to become Careers. He had been using the gym at school until yesterday when he ran into a squad of Peacekeepers outside of the school who asked him what he was doing there. They must have recognized him and knew he had no reason to be at school anymore.

He came up with a great lie on the spot, as usual, and said that he was helping coach the wrestling team. He told them he used to be on the team, and even placed 2nd in the championships the season before the 74th Hunger Games. He assured them that he was only there for that day's lesson to show them how to do a Crossface Cradle Pin. He started blabbing on and on about pins until they told him it was alright, and to go on home.

So, we decided to workout where the Peacekeepers really had no reason to patrol, the meadow in the Seam.

It was actually the perfect spot to workout too. It had a hill that we could use to run up, and a large, flat area where the grass made the ground just as soft as the mats they had at the school gymnasium. I figured the only thing we would be missing out on now we're dumbbells, but it turns out that Peeta ordered a set from the Capitol for his house in the Victor's Village and they would arrive on Saturday.

"Katniss five more," Peeta said through quick, controlled breaths. When he glanced over at me and saw my shaking arms give out and my body flop to the ground in a thud, he yelled, "Five more! Then we've gotta move on to legs."

"Ugh" is all I manage to croak out, although I'd love to insult him right now. My arms are killing me. Scratch that. My whole body is killing me. We've been working out hard for the past three hours and I am so tired that I feel that if I make another movement, any movement, I may not be able to get back up again. And now Peeta is telling me I have to work out my legs after these torturous push-ups are over. I don't think I can do this everyday with him. Hunting in the woods is one thing, but this...He. Does. Not. Let. Up.

I finish the push-ups and Peeta is already standing, waiting for me to move onto the leg workout he has planned for us. It's clear that he has given up on Haymitch for the day, as Haymitch is laying flat on his back wheezing loudly. Of course Haymitch is out of shape..the only move he has done for the last twenty-four years is raise his liquor bottle from the kitchen table to his mouth and back down. He's pathetic.

Peeta shows me some of the moves that he undoubtedly was forced to do over and over when he was a wrestler. Maybe that's where he gets his bossy little attitude, I think. He has oddly enough become our coach. A strict coach, much less gentle than how I'm used to seeing him. We end up doing a variety of leg exercises that make my legs as tired and shaky as my arms are.

We move on to "strengthening our core" as Peeta put it. After a few different excercises I feel my abdomen burning, as if my insides were slowly going to start spilling out and the dull burn was going to dissolve my stomach away into nothingness. And these strange, kicking movements on my back didn't seem like they would hurt at first, but they sure do. I start muttering under my breath at Peeta and he just keeps saying "Almost done Katniss. Five more."

At the end of the first workout I hate it. I'd much rather train in the woods, but with that fence on twenty-four hours a day, that is no longer an option. It's just one more loss of freedom that Snow has inflicted on my life. Gale's life too.

Part of me wishes I could workout with Gale instead of Peeta and Haymitch, but I know that will never happen. Gale's work schedule is set at six wretched days, and the hours have been extended since winter. He used to work nine hours but now works twelve. I know that he hates it, and I hate it too, but he has to provide for his family and it's the only way he can.

On our way back to the Victor's Village we pass by my family's old house in the Seam and I almost wonder if I should go grab Buttercup before I see him bolt out of the hedge and run ahead of us towards our new house. I told Peeta that we could store the dumbbells and workout gear in our old house, so it looks like I'll be dropping in on it and Buttercup more often.

As we pass by Gale's house and I resolve to stop in and visit Hazelle and the kids, and Gale if he's there. I stop and tell Peeta and Haymitch that I'll meet up with them later to watch the Games. Peeta stops and looks at me curiously at first before he recognizes the house. Then says a quick "ok" and keeps walking on, catching up with Haymitch who never stopped.

I knock on the door and when it opens I look up at startling silver eyes.

"Hey Catnip," he says with a tired smile. He must have just gotten home from work. "Wanna come in?"

"Okay," I say.

"What have you been doing?" he asks looking me up and down and frowning when he notices the knife in my hand.

"Uh, training," I say and bite my lip.

"Here, let me have that," he says as he takes the knife from my hand and puts it safely away in a high cupboard. "You're gonna scare Posy with that." He finishes with a laugh.

"Sorry. Peeta had knife throwing as Lesson 1," I say mocking Peeta's authoritative tone.

Gale raises an eyebrow, "There are lessons? And Peeta is in charge?" He laughs at that and shakes his head a little.

"Yeah, Trainer Peeta is actually quite bossy," I say and roll my eyes. "He wants us to train to become like the Careers."

"So, you're going to be working out everyday then?"

"I guess so. It's not like we have anything else to do," I say and tilt my head down. This is always where conversations get awkward with Gale now. I don't have to work and now he does. We used to work together to keep our families fed, and now I will be provided for by the Capitol's resources for the rest of my life while he has to work in the mines six days a week, twelve hours a day to barely scrape by enough food for Hazelle and the kids.

"Are you guys going to be doing anything else other than working out?" he asks me.

"Yes, tonight we're going to start watching the Games of the living victors. Peeta asked Effie to send them to us and she assured us they would arrive today."

"Do you want to watch the Games?" he asks me with concern in his face. "I thought.."

"No," I interrupt him. "I don't really want to, but like it or not I'm going back in and this year we have the advantage of knowing who the other tributes are. You know, how they fight, and what they're like."

"Well, it is a good idea," he says. "I'm just surprised Peeta talked you all into doing it, especially Haymitch."

"Yeah, I'm a little worried about Haymitch to be honest," I speak the thoughts that I haven't breathed to a soul yet. "He's sober now and I don't know how he'll handle watching them. I mean, he had to watch dozens of tributes from District 12 get slaught..." I stop as Posy bobs into the room. This isn't a conversation for a little girl her age.

Gale gets her some water and she asks if we will play with her. She's got dolls made of dried grass leaves strung together with beans for eyes and a red string woven through the fibers as a mouth. The doll was a gift from Prim a couple years ago and Posy has been cherishing it ever since. It's the only doll she has ever had.

Gale tells her that he'll come play with her in a second but that I have to go home and eat dinner. He hands me back my knife and hugs me goodbye.

I wash up and eat dinner with my mother and Prim before heading over to Peeta's house with my hair dangling around my shoulders drying. I'm too tired to lift my arms and braid it tonight.

"Which one should we start with," Peeta asks us. "I mean, we could go oldest to youngest victors, or youngest to oldest victors?"

Oh, yeah...Some of the victors from the first Games we have tapes of will be much older than us, and Haymitch for that matter. I'm shocked when I find the first tape is from sixty-two years ago! The label with Effie's immaculate cursive says "Margaret Gage."

"Margaret Gage? Who is that?" I ask.

"It's Mags," Haymitch speaks up. "She's from District 4, and I don't care what order we watch these damn tapes."

Haymitch slumps back in Peeta's couch rubbing his forehead.

"Let's start with the oldest Peeta," I say. "We can watch the Games from oldest to newest to see if any pattern emerges with the arenas or muttations."

"Alright," Peeta says, taking the tape labeled Margaret Gage out of it's pristine white case and settling it into the machine connected to the television.

We only get through the Cornucopia scene before Peeta shuts it off and quietly says that's enough for tonight. The footage of the Cornucopia scene lasts for two hours and mostly follows the action of the bloodbath.

The arena is set in an incredibly wet piece of land that extends for miles and miles. It is filled with strange, thin, bare trees and large pools of murky, brown water that never really seem to stay in one place, but jut around through the tall grass and sneak over rotten, moss-covered logs. The Cornucopia is set up in tiny plot of ground that only extends for a mere two feet around the base of the golden horn. There is a circle of tall, narrow trees that have their base under water and are exactly in the middle of the circle of tributes and the Cornucopia. Unlike last year's Games, the items outside of the horn are not laying on the ground, or floating in the water in the case, but they are tied up to this circle of trees. Two items are on each tree. The first item is of less desirability tied closer to the surface of the water and the second item is tied about four feet higher than the water. The tributes seem to be unsure of how deep the water is, or what lies underneath.

I entertain a brief thought in the final five seconds of the sixty-second countdown that the water itself might not even be safe. Maybe that's why the tributes are wearing thick, slick-looking clothing and high rubber boots.

3...2...1 and they all fly off their platforms and splash into the water. I swallow and watch as six tributes make huge splashes as they run/swim towards the golden horn.

Some of the other tributes are leery of the water and are trying to make as miniature splashes as possible while they head for the objects tied to the trees. I notice there aren't a whole lot of weapons in this arena and I quickly find out why.

One of the tributes arrives at one of the trees in the circle where another tribute is frantically untying the top object. It is a long, curved blade and I cringe as I watch them start punching each other while still untying it. One tribute punches the other and then lifts one foot up towards the tribute's stomach and launches him into the water. As if from no where a large, spiky dark green animal shoots out of the water, opens it's jaws like a pair of scissors and chops down on the fallen tribute. The animal, or muttation, drags the child under the water and thrashes around. Blood flows in every direction and spreads quickly with every thrash. Many of the tributes begin climbing the trees in hopes to stay away from the water monsters. Others get dragged under as well by other dark green creatures. The ones who made it to the Cornucopia stay put but start fighting each other, trying to impale each other with the swords in the Cornucopia or push each other towards the hidden creatures in the water.

From time to time, we see Mags slowly slinking away from the Cornucopia and the water, looking cautiously every which way. She did the complete opposite of every single other tribute by running in the opposite direction of the survival objects.

Workout Day 2, Saturday:

We meet at Peeta's house at 9:00 and we're all massaging sore muscles as we groggily mumble greetings at each other. We're tired from the workout and the nightmares. No one has to even mention the nightmares. We know that we all get them and what they were of last night. There's no need to ask, and there's nothing any of us can say or do about them.

The workout starts out very slow this morning. Even Peeta is running slower than yesterday, although he's still working out harder than Haymitch and me today. We start with a light jog around the meadow and Peeta instructs us to follow the routine on his clipboard while he's gone, picking something up from town. I figure he's going to check to see if the dumbbells arrived yet.

Haymitch and I slump down to the ground and look at the clipboard. Peeta has a whole list of workouts for us.

Strengthening Exercise: Reps:

Push-ups

3 sets of 20

Lunges

3 sets of 20

Side Lunges

3 sets of 20

Squats

3 sets of 20

Calf Raises

3 sets of 30

Crunches

3 sets of 100

Bicycle

3 sets of 50

Oblique Crunches

3 sets of 20

Butterfly Kicks

3 sets of 20

Plank

Hold 30 seconds/3 times

We dutifully work on them while Trainer Peeta is gone. I don't want to hear him ordering me around any more than I have to during these workouts. Suddenly our deep breaths aren't the only ones we're hearing.

"Oh no, no, no!" I say to Peeta as I see him carrying a giant bag of flour up the path leading through the Seam to the meadow. He huffed as he threw it in front of Haymitch and me.

"Alright, (breath) today we're gonna (breath) use the bag of (breath) flour too." he says in between quick, deep breaths.

"But you said the dumbbells are coming in today," I half-stated and half-asked.

"Yeah, I know, but you said yourself that you knew I was strong because I could lift these," he smirks at me. "Now it's your turn."

"I think I'd rather just wait for the dumbbells to show up today," I say and slide one eyebrow up at him.

"Katniss, free weights are good for individual muscle strength and definition, but bags of flour will be better for overall muscle mass," he says as his breathing has evened out by now. "And that will be much better for us in the Games." He smiles again when he sees me look down at the bag and back up at him, with a undoubtedly clear "whhhhhhy?" in my eyes. Wait a second.

"Us?" I ask him, trying to fluster that annoying smirk off his face.

"Uh..yeah, you and either Haymitch or me, whichever victor Effie pulls out of the reaping bowl," he replies.

Well, it worked. I wiped that smug, little grin right off his face, but now none of us are smiling. I glance at Haymitch, and I know that both of us are thinking that we don't want Peeta going back into the Games. He's the best one of all of us, and he'd probably be the most useful in the rebellion. It's just not a good idea for him to volunteer. I know it, deep down. I'll do everything I can to save him, of course, I mean that's why Haymitch and I agreed to workout with him, but I can't shake the ominous feeling that we're fighting a battle neither of us will win.

"Katniss didn't do her push-ups," Haymitch suddenly sneered. Boy, he's good at lightening the mood, but did he really have to do so at my expense. The one exercise I avoided while he was gone...I cringe as Peeta turns toward me, his eyes bearing down at me with a look of betrayal and disappointment. I look back at Haymitch who is wearing a sideways grin.

"Thanks a lot, Haysnitch," I hiss back at him.

We spend the rest of the workout lifting the heavy bag of flour up and down, and then throwing it as far as we can. My throws are miserable compared to Peeta's. He chuckles every time I throw it, because it literally lands mere feet away from where I stand. When Peeta throws it he makes it seem effortless, and the bag goes way beyond the extent of my throws. Haymitch's throws don't extend too far beyond mine. We start digging little lines in the grass to mark a throwing line and then we use rocks to measure how far we are able to throw the bag.

After the workout is over and we eat lunch Haymitch and I ask Trainer Peeta what we'll be doing the rest of the day.

"Well, I thought since Katniss spent so much time in trees during the last Games we could all learn how to climb them properly. That is, if you'll teach us?" Peeta asks.

"Of course," I say. "But I doubt you'll be able to get as high as I can. You're too heavy." I look at Haymitch specifically when I say that last part.

"Are you calling me fat?" Haymitch asks.

I teach Haymitch first since it will be easiest for him to maneuver around the branches than Peeta with his prosthetic leg. Some of the branches break under his weight, but he's actually much more nimble than I anticipated. What does Haymitch know how to do?

Next on deck is Peeta, who presents a little more of a challenge with his prosthetic not allowing him to twist his foot the way he wants. He has pretty good control overall though and at the end of the lesson I'm convinced he could climb away from a heavy Career if the occasion called for it.

We walk back slowly into town, dragging our feet before we pick them up and letting them fall back down again. Lift leg, extend it in front, set foot on ground. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Peeta is carrying the absurdly large bag of flour that we unfortunately ripped a hole in through the workout. So with every step a little puff of flour catches the sweaty skin of his arms. Sometimes he catches me glancing at the ivory paste forming on his skin and sticking to his clothes, and I try to suppress my smirk.

As we get deeper into Town, I see a thin, blonde figure slide out of the Mayor's house and recognize Madge coming down the steps of the wide porch towards us.

"What are you all doing?" Madge asks us with a bewildered look gracing her porcelain face.

Maybe she thinks we've all lost our marbles. Maybe we all have and just don't realize how ridiculous we must look to everyone in the District.

She looks Peeta up and down and giggles a little. He stares up at her and then fixes his gaze on me when I start laughing at his embarrassment. He had looked as if he was going to set the bag down while we chatted, but our teasing laughs must have gotten the better of him, and we see him suddenly turn and walk further on towards his family's bakery.

"We're getting ready for swimsuit season," I say jokingly, because you never know who is watching us or listening to our conversations. We haven't gotten in trouble yet and we'd all like to keep it that way.

"Ha, as if you could catch me in one of those," Haymitch says with indignation.

"Yeah, with your beer belly no one would wanna see you in that anyways," Madge says.

I burst out in laughter, partly because of the vision now invading my mind of Haymitch in swim trunks, belly protruding slightly over the side, and in part because it was Madge of all people who just said that.

Haymitch just glares at me and mutters something under his breath.

"No, but really, what are you guys doing out there?" Madge asks us. "Isn't it...dangerous to train? I thought it was forbidden."

"Yeah, technically it is, but at this point I don't think anyone cares about us training," I say.

"Are you going to train everyday?" Madge asks.

"Yeah, I mean, there's not a whole lot else to do anyways," I tell her.

"Can I help?" Madge asks sweetly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Haymitch says. "While no one from the District may report us, it's still possible that Peacekeepers will see us one day and then we'll all be in trouble. I can't let that happen to you."

Madge nods her head slightly, bites her bottom lip, and looks down. We say goodbye, and head the rest of the way home to our little village. As I walk in the door to my house I smell mouth-watering wafts of chicken, rice, sautéed vegetables, and a distinct smell of chocolate coming from the kitchen. I walk over to the kitchen and find my mother and Prim working hard at this unexpected dinner. Unexpected and large. This is too much food. Why are they cooking so much food?

"Mother...Prim...what is all this?" I ask.

"Duhh...it's dinner Katniss," my sister says as if I'm two years old.

If that same comment had sprung out of my mouth I'm sure it would have sounded condescending, but the way Prim said it was sweet, and innocent. She reminds me of that little girl who always wiped my father's mirror clean from the coal dust every night.

And now as I'm thinking back on those memories I'm struck with those feelings of emptiness. Emotional and physical emptiness. Suddenly, this food makes me feel guilty. It may not be winter anymore but people all throughout the Seam are still starving, their bodies slowly feeding off of whatever is left in their withered bodies, desperate to cling onto whatever nourishment they can scavenge.

It isn't right to have this much food when others are starving. It isn't right that they are given promises of food and left with only empty bellies. More people have died this year than in many combined, previous years, all because there wasn't enough food. And here, well, just look at all this food!

"Mother, why did you make so much?" I ask.

I'm staring wide-eyed at all the food, shock still registering as I take it all in, and my mother must see the concern behind my eyes. "Katniss, it's a good idea for you all to train, but believe me, your workouts will use a lot of your energy. You need to replenish your body every day."

"Still, can't we give some of this away?" wanting to rid myself of this feeling of guilt.

"We thought you could invite Peeta and Haymitch?" Prim says with her forehead scrunched up in hopefulness and big blue eyes looking up at me.

Gosh Prim, not the puppy face. Well, I just won't look at her then.

I don't want to eat dinner with Peeta and Haymitch. I've been with them all day and we are already planning on meeting again after dinner. Haymitch is still surly from his lack of alcohol induced stupor, and Peeta..well, things between Peeta and are are just awkward now. It feels different from the time we spent in my room working on my family's plant book.

I look down at the food again, hoping to find something I can give to someone in need, someone other than Peeta and Haymitch when my eyes fall on a basket of plump rolls. Cheese rolls from none other than Peeta Mellark.

Guilt rings through me. Peeta brings my family and me bread all the time. He has always shared what he had with me. Dangit.

I am doing this for Peeta after all, I think to myself. If I'm stronger and well fed I might be able to protect him longer, and better.

"Alright, I'll clean up and then I'll go invite them." I tell her. Prim's face lights up and my mother smiles a small smile. Prim is still a little leery of Haymitch in his current sober state, but she loves being around Peeta. He always knows how to make her giggle and smile.

After I shower I throw on some sweatpants and a loose t-shirt and walk over to Peeta's house. I open his door and step inside. I hear the refrigerator door open and close, and so I walk towards the kitchen.

Holy!

There he is standing in the kitchen gulping down milk, straight from the container, wearing only a white towel wrapped around his waist.

I flush instantly and it's not at the sight of his prosthetic leg. I've seen him half naked before, but he was nearly dead, severely malnourished and dehydrated. All of his muscles had begun dwindling away. Now as he stands there looking at me and wiping his lips of the leftover milk with his forearm, my eyes make an embarrassing sweep of his upper body. His arms are as big as they were when he wrestled in high school, and his toned chest and abs are staring me in the face.

You could do a lot worse suddenly runs through my head and I shake it with the tiniest movement possible. Nope, not a good thought to have right now. Focus. You are here for a reason, yes? Yes, to invite his pecs to dinner. I mean him. Invite him to dinner.

I clear my throat. "My family would like to invite you and Haymitch to dinner tonight."

"Really?" he asks as if he's stunned at the offer. "Well, ok. Can I bring anything?"

"We're already using your rolls," I say.

"Oh, ok. What time should I be there?" Peeta asks.

"Now, just come on over," I say. "I mean, put a shirt on and come over.

"Just a shirt?" he says as he smugly lifts one eyebrow.

"Pants too," I say quickly, regretting Prim and my mother talking me into inviting him. "Just put some clothes on and get over there!" I turn on my heel and walk out quickly.

I go to Haymitch's next and find him asleep at the kitchen table. I wake him up and practically drag him over to my house. He must not be sleeping through the night yet if he is this exhausted. He can barely keep his eyes open.

When we walk towards the dining room we find Peeta sitting opposite my normal seat with an empty chair next to him. I direct a heavy-lidded Haymitch to the seat by Peeta and go to the kitchen to help Prim and my mom bring out the food.

Haymitch, Peeta, and I eat a remarkably, large portion of food. I guess my mother was right, we are going to need to eat a lot of food. She notices and starts chattering about specific foods we should eat and says that Haymitch and Peeta are welcome over for dinner anytime they want.

After dinner we go over to Peeta's house to watch the next part of Mag's Hunger Games. Haymitch tells us more about Mags' personality. I ask how old she is now and he tells us that she is eighty years old and walks with a cane.

I don't know very much about Mags, but I already know that I hope she doesn't get reaped. I don't ask any more questions that night and neither does Peeta, although he takes a lot more notes than the first night.

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" I yawn as I stretch out on Peeta's couch.

"We've got a surprise visitor coming tomorrow," Peeta replies.

And that's all I get out of him. Who's coming tomorrow? Ugh..and what is that person going to make us do?

I started this story on a Tuesday because I figured that Prim came home from school and mentioned the mandatory viewing on a Monday. Also, starting the story early in the week gave me more days to work with for the first chapter. Please review and tell me if you want me to keep going with this. It's meant to be a light comedy, and I'm trying to work on weaving in as many funny moments as possible, but I am open to suggestions ;)