There Can Be Only One Winner of The Hunger Games

by cometheytoldme

Seraph Maimon has been selected. All has gone to plan

"Seraph Maimon."

I hear sounds of shock spread across my companions. They made the only noise. The others were simply silent. I feel Tera grab my hand, as if as long as we stayed together I would not have to go. I allow myself one moment of stillness to squeeze Tera's hand but then I take a step forward.

The only thing that runs through my mind is that I'm hungry. Looking into the eyes of everyone I walk by, I see their terror, but I don't feel it myself. It's almost as if I was waiting for this moment to arrive. And I was. I had submitted my name to the reaping so many times, that I had lost count.

The others believed that I wanted to protect them, but honestly I wanted to die.

It seems weird to admit this to myself as people separate to give me a clean way through. In a weird way I wanted this. It was my last year to be apart of the Hunger Games. I had come with the plan to volunteer if I hadn't "won." Would I have actually done that, I wasn't sure.

But I wasn't scared as I walked up to the podium. I had long ago resigned to that fact that this must be my fate. After all, it should have been my fate three years ago.

I pretend to listen to all that is going on. It doesn't matter to me. I know what they're saying, I've been through this before. And sooner rather than later I find myself hearing those dreaded words. They're asking for volunteers. I come out of my stupor and I look at my neighbors, my friends. Some shift their weight from one foot of the other.

I steal a glance at Tera who is closing her eyes and crossing her fingers. My other friends next to her are crying. All of them but Mack. His look is determined. He wants somebody to volunteer. He would do so himself, if only it were allowed.

I breathe in to speak quickly after I look at Tera once more, and I know what she's decided.

"There will be no volunteers," I say strongly, and I see Tera wilt. They all know why I don't want a volunteer. They all know why.

The next moments rush by like a blur. I'm not sure what to do, so I just stand next to my mentor, Ram Fortis. I can feel him sweating next to me. He must be dreading this just as much as everyone else. The name I hear is one I recognize. Abel Zinc. He's two years younger than me, this much I know. His sister died last year from heat stroke. Now the family will lose another child.

Except that they won't. Mack has volunteered in his place.

Here in District 5, it's not too unusual for a volunteer. Every couple of years one kid full of confidence volunteers. They never win.

But Mack isn't motivate by hubris. Yet again, another person I love has volunteered to protect me.

I don't look at Mack as he stands next to me. I refuse.

Everybody in the District 5 begins to clap for their two tributes. There is some excited murmuring. Mack and I are as old as we can get for the Games. We are also friends, so there is a built in ally. I know that they all think highly of me, Mack even more so.

I don't know how long it takes to find myself saying goodbye. I go through every movement they tell me to, but I don't remember doing it. I don't remember coming to the train station. In a way I've already died.

Tera is the first they let in. We only have a few moments to say goodbye and she wastes her time crying while I comfort her. I tell her I knew that this would happen, and this is the right thing to do. She manages to tell me to stop blaming myself through her hiccups and coughs. I do not need to come up with a response because her time is up, and she's ushered out. One by one my friends come in. Aria, comes in just like Tera, crying. I try to calm her down but it's no use. Briny comes in and he's a bit more reserved. The clown of our group, it's now impossible for him to make a joke. Instead I hug him tightly, and he leaves early, unable to say goodbye. Luka is the last of my group to come in. He's unable to say anything at all, and I can see that it was hard for him to just be there.

"Luka..." I say soothingly, and rub his shoulder.

"Don't," he says, pulling back from me, shaking his head. "Someone would have volunteered for you. You shouldn't have said what you said."

"And we would have been saying goodbye to Tera, or Aria, or a dozen other people," I say back, trying to remain calm, but I know what's coming.

"You're throwing away your life!" he says angrily. "What good does that do Fay?"

And there it is. I take a few steps back and go into the shell I've built around myself for situations like these. I can no longer hear anything. I know Luka is shouting at me, but I can't bare it.

There was an unspoken agreement not to ever say her name.

Fay.

I know that I'm throwing away her sacrifice. Four years ago, she saved me from the reaping. She volunteered herself. My sister.

There was nothing I could do to stop her. I was in too much shock from my name being called to understand what was going on. The next thing I knew I was saying goodbye to her on the train, screaming at her, just as Luka was doing now.

I watched her die. Burn to death from the damn volcano. There was nothing she could have done. They replayed the tape over and over and over.

And it was my fault. My older sister was there to protect me, and now she's dead. Nobody would ever die for my life ever again. No matter how hard Mack tried. My plan was to die in the arena. Like I should have four years ago.

Luka has stopped yelling now, and he's catching his breath. I take the brief moment I have to hug my last good friend goodbye. For a moment he stands still in defiance, but soon he wraps his arms around me tightly. I bury my head in his chest and we both stand like that until his time is up.

I am caught off guard when they say I have one person left waiting to say goodbye. I rack my brains, wondering if it could be Boss Hatchett, the only father figure I have ever known. It is not, and I am left in confusion when little Abel walks in. Fifteen and strong, he's not so little anymore, not like I remember him.

We stay silent for a few moments, and he offers me something in his hand. I look and see a thick metal ring. It has the symbol of District 5 on it, almost a complete circle, with a vertical line in the space the circle doesn't connect. It's the symbol of power. Anything that turns on electricity has this symbol on it. And now, so will I.

I take the ring silently and try to put it on my finger. But Abel's were much thicker than mine, and I'm afraid I'll lose it. Instead I take the chain around my neck and slip the ring onto it. Abel offers something halfway between a smile and a look of guilt. Then he leaves just as silently as he came. And now I'm ready to board the train. I'm ready to go to the capitol.

Now I'm ready for the Hunger Games.

The tribute train is the nicest place I've ever been. Food covers the table that I'm sitting at. The chair I'm sitting in is plush, and soft enough to allow me to relax. I've been tense since I accepted Abel's ring. It gives me a little comfort to know that Fay was treated well before her death.

Mack is sitting next to me. He keeps trying to initiate a conversation that I will take apart in, but I refuse to even sit so that he's in my line of sight. Because of this, I'm turned towards our escort.

He has simply always been known as Mr. Bones to District 5. Nobody was ever quite sure about his name. He was called this because on each cheek were the tattoos of crossbones. He was the strong silent type. He did not engage in any of Mack's attempts at conversation. Instead he ate a small amount of buttered bread and stared at his plate.

Our mentor, Ram Fortis, is the only one reciprocating. He seems to take much pleasure in talking to Mack, talking about his skills and such.

Mack has been working in the power plants since he was twelve, just like I have. He has an incredible amount of skill working with machines and electricity, which comes from growing up in District 5. Ram also asks him about the tournament District 5 has every year. Chess is a communal game in my district. If you don't know how to play it, you're not from District 5.

It is the only source of fun that we have every year. The Peacemakers pretend to ignore it. Though our District isn't as poor as some of the others, we have a large Peacekeeping unit. In fact, there are more of them than there are of us. Luka once said that this was because everyone needs power, so we need to be "motivated." I disagreed with him.

I said nobody needed any motivation because we all just did what we were told. District 5 has a small population. The power plants are enough to keep everyone working enough so that they bring home food. We don't have luxury items because we don't need them. We find solace in work and in each others company. We don't need anything else. So the Peacekeepers let us have our game.

We stop schooling at age twelve and only take two subjects. The history of Panem and mathematics. That's all we need. With our math skills, we can effectively work in the power plants. It teaches us logical thinking, how to find solutions when the answer isn't so obvious.

And this is why we play chess. We're able to exercise our minds like we can in no other way. We take pride in our logic.

Mack is the best at it. He's won the tournament the last two years, even going up against such veterans like Abel's father, who simply was the best.

Ram has never taken part because, as he says it, he's got no brains. I'd agree with that.

He won his Hunger Games by dumb luck. Twelve years ago, half of the tributes thought a stroke of thunder was their cue to leave the platform and blew up. Half of the rest died in a blood bath for the meager supplies the Cornucopia offered. So after the second day, only six including Ram were left. They were all Careers. So when they caught Ram, who had screamed after being bitten by some wild animal, the Careers all fought over who would get the kill. Eventually, the fight became physical and only one Career from District 1 was left. In the scuffle, Ram had managed to free his hand and grab a fallen weapon.

The Career was caught unaware and Ram slit his throat quickly when his back was turned. That Hunger Games had lasted five days. It was considered one of the worst ever.

Unfortunately, he was the most recent winner for District 5. And he was our mentor.

I quickly brush this aside, because as I have no plan to come out alive, it doesn't matter how incompetent Ram is.

Suddenly I hear my name in their conversation.

"Yeah," says Mack. "Ser was the only one whose every beaten me."

"It was one time," I snap, despite myself.

"You've only ever played once, and that's when I was teaching you," chuckled Mack. "This girl has a gift. Too bad she's never used it."

"You let me win," I say, as I've said every time he brings this up. And just like always he shakes his head.

"Well," Ram says, patting his now full belly. "If there was ever a time for strategy, it would be the Hunger Games. And chess is all about strategy."

Not when there's volcanoes involved, I think scathingly.

When dinner is finally over, Mr. Bones says that we will arrive in the capitol tomorrow at midday. He adds in to try to brush my hair, which is in a knotted bun on top of my head. I scowl and go to my compartment without a word. In it, I look at myself in the mirror placed caddy corner to my bed. I look at myself for several minutes. I've always liked my hair. I kept it longer than most of the other girls. It was the light blonde that most of the girls from our district had, but mine had curls. I take my bun down and search the drawers for a brush. I find one, along with some rudimentary make-up that District 5 has never had. I sit with my new trinkets in front of the mirror.

Slowly, I brush all the knots out of my hair. It's a painful process because I never really cared that much about my hair. The only time it was ever free of knots was when Tera did it. I look at it in the mirror and see the grease that comes from a long day. This always covered my face. Dirt under my eyes made me look more tired than I felt. Creases that would remind one of concentrating were permanently etched onto my face.

I can take a bath in the morning.

I turn my attention to the make-up I've collected. I begin and do my best to apply it. However, my hands, unused to the tools make me look like a clown. There is a moment, that I look into the mirror straight on, and I want to cry. I do not why the tears fall, but it is strangely cathartic. Maybe because I haven't cried in so long.

I go to my bathroom and reach for a towel and I wet it. I spend a long time trying to rid myself of the stuff, but it doesn't come of easily. When I finally resurface from the towel, my skin has been rubbed raw, and I seen Mack in the mirror. I wonder how long he's been there, but I ignore him nonetheless.

His decision to be here infuriates me. I know my place, so why can't anyone else understand?

"Seraph..."

"Don't," I say to him, finding myself in a sense of deja vu from my last encounter with Luka.

"I need you to understand," he says quietly. I turn and look at him in the eyes, searching for the reason he will try to die for me. I only see determination.

"I love you."

This was not the reason I was expecting. In fact, it was the last reason. I stare at Mack waiting for him to break into a chuckle and say he's kidding, but deep down I know he's not.

My relationship with Mack has always been different than with anyone else. I was always comfortable with him. I always rested my head on his shoulder when I was tired. I could fall asleep in his arms. He was the only one I could cry in front of. He was truly my best friend.

I try to think of a million things to change his mind, but the only word I can muster is, "Why?"

I feel ridiculous asking the question, but I can't help but wonder. I'm not especially pretty or talented. There is simply nothing to distinguish me from any other girl in District 5. I'm nobody.

Mack chuckles and crosses his arms. He thinks for a moment, and I let him. "Who knows? But I couldn't let you go without me. Not with what knew you were planning. I have to change your mind."

"You won't."

"I will," he says strongly. "I swear to you Seraph, I will not let you die."

"I won't let anyone else die for me, Mack." I say, my voice close to breaking. "Especially not you."

"Well it doesn't matter," he says. "Because I will keep you alive."

I feel tears streaming down my face. I had come into this, even with Mack as a tribute, planning my death. But his actions have changed everything. I couldn't let his sacrifice be for nothing. It doesn't ruin my plan, only alters it. Mack will get out of this alive. He will be the victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games. He will not die for me.

"But there is one thing I ask in return," Mack says.

I think it's a ludicrous suggestion that I owe him anything. I don't even want him here.

"What?" I say scathingly.

"I want you to kiss me," he says, his caramel eyes unwavering. I feel uncomfortable about this at first, but if I do owe him anything, it could be this. He steps forward and takes both of my hands in his. He's much taller than me, so I find myself standing as far up as possible. This wasn't how I had imagined this moment.

It wasn't as if I had never thought about kissing Mack before. Certainly I had. When those nights became too cold to sleep outside and I finally gave into sleeping at his house. When he would put his arms around to stop me from shivering. When we would lie so close together, that I could feel his heart beating.

But now, kissing Mack would be the last thing I could ever want. Because it could break me down. It was easy for me to think about leaving when I knew everyone was safe. Now I had made Mack volunteer. Now Mack was willing to die for me. Because he loved me.

I had always really known his feelings towards me. It was always just a feeling. I had always felt that if I were ever to be married, it would be to Mack, just because he always knew how to take care of me. And there were times that I needed to be taken care of. When that nightmare came.

But here we were. No nightmare. So close.

I used to wonder if it was hypocritical of me, to imagine myself married to Mack, while also not planning to live another year. It was always a nice fantasy when the real world became unbearable.

I feel my face heat up as Mack moves in and when his lips touch mine, it feels like lightning. I release his hands and put mine on his chest. One of his holds the back of my head keeping me close, the other around my waist. Suddenly this doesn't feel like just a kiss.

I feel him step backwards, but I follow him, keeping our lips pressed. We back into my room, almost like if we stop touching we'll lose each other forever. He pulls me in tighter so that our bodies fit together like a puzzle piece. The last thing that I want to do is pull away from him. His lips, so warm an inviting almost force me not to.

But I do, and I take a step back from him.

For a moment, the only sound is us breathing. I wait for my heart to slow down and cheeks to cool.

"We...we can't do this." I say quietly. I'm close to tears again and I hate myself for it. I can't look into those caramel eyes.

"Seraph," Mack says, touching my shoulder lightly. "We only have so much time.'

I know what he means by that. One, if not both of us will die. It's a simple fact. There can only be one winner of the Hunger Games.

"I don't want this to be harder than it needs to be," I whisper. I feel Mack's lips touch my neck. I want so desperately to reciprocate, but I know I can't.

"...Mack, please."

I feel Mack's lips leave my neck. I hear him walk slowly to the door that will take him from this moment forever. I hear him stop, waiting to see if I change my mind. I can't look back at him or I might. Finally he leaves, and he shuts the door ever so gently behind. For the first time since my name was called, I am truly alone.

I walk like a zombie to my bed and fall into it. The sheets and blankets are so soft, inviting me to sleep. But I know I can't. Or maybe I don't want to. Maybe I'm too afraid of what sleep will bring. Instead I tear a thread out of my expensive blanket. I tie into a loop and do all the tricks with it that Fay taught me.

First I make a tea cup and then cat whiskers. I try to remember how Fay made an intricate ladder, but I never mastered it before she died. For several hours I try to remember how to do it, but I stop when I start to see light creep through the shades of my window.

I go into my bathroom and turn on the nobs in the shower. Never having bathed in anything but baths, I am confused about what nobs do what, but eventually I find the one that controls the water. I let it come out on my body ice cold as I wait for myself to wake up from this nightmare.

I don't wake and eventually I'm so cold that my fingers and toes have turned blue. I step out of the shower shivering, almost forgetting to turn it off as I walk naked into my room. I dry off with a towel and climb under my blanket trying to warm up. I don't ever want to leave this bed. Eventually I hear a knock at my door, and Mr. Bones enters. He motions for me to come up and then leaves without a word. I grudgingly leave my blanket

I change into a set of clothes I find in my drawers. The clothes are too heavy for my taste. In District 5 we're used to working in hot conditions. We always wear light clothes that won't keep us too hot but are acceptable. I pull out a shirt, a nice off-white color that's long sleeved. I then search for something to go with it, eventually deciding on a pair of grey shorts. I know, I'm boring. I make sure to hide my necklace under my shirt. For some reason I don't want anybody to know about the ring. Not even Mack. I would have to explain it to him. And then I would have to tell him that Abel believes his life was saved because of me.

I rub the chain between my fingers.

I take in a breath and try to gather myself. Every time I rub my fingers on the chain, I try to pull it. I try desperately to break it. To break myself of this burden. But Fay knew what she was talking about when she said it was unbreakable. Not even the clasp has ever broken.

And I hate her for it.

I want it to break. I want to stop carrying it. But I can't just stop wearing it.

I let go of my necklace and take a quick look in the mirror. My hands reach for the brush that I had left last night and slowly brush my hair. Even after I get all the knots out, I keep brushing my blonde hair. It reminds me of home. Of Tera doing my hair, and Luka and Mack making fun of me. I keep brushing until my hair is completely dry. I want to go home.

Eventually I stop, when Mr. Bones comes back. This time he refuses to leave the room until I come with him. I follow him into a room I haven't been in before, one filled with couches and rugs. I sit next to Mack on a blue one. I realize that I have missed breakfast, and my stomach grumbles. Mack hears it, and pulls out half a loaf of bread he had stashed.

Always taking care of me.

I eat the bread as Ram starts telling us of what is going to happen. When we get off the train, there'll be lots of people there. He says to try to look appealing. I decide not to and to ignore everyone.

He also tells us that we'll be meeting our stylists. I don't care about this either. Then we'll ride on our chariots for our Opening Ceremony. That is all we need to worry about for now, according to Ram. I feel like breaking his nose.

When we get off the train, Mr. Bones escorts us while people scream at us. Mack seems to be in the same frame of mind as me, but he does make an effort. He waves to most of the kids he sees. I can't understand what anyone is saying because they're speaking so loudly and in that dumb accent. They all look ridiculous.

There are people with technicolor tattoos covering their body and others whose skin are completely different colors. I'm still hungry.

I feel Mack's hand graze mine and he and I exchange a look. He's as bewildered as I am. As long as it takes to get to our stylists, being with them is excruciatingly long. Mack and I are separated. I'm directed to a room with too many mirrors and that smells overly scented. Two people walk in with green hair and that look alike. They tell me there names but I choose not to care. They paint my face using different make-up than I had on the train. Their hands are perfect and still and they transform me into someone else.

Now I look seductive, sexy. I don't why they chose this look, but it doesn't really matter to me. As much as I would pretend at home not to care, I actually appreciate what they've done. They've changed a girl into a woman, a woman that men could want. I have never felt that way about myself. I offer up a hesitant thank you to my stylists. They are surprised at first, but both of their faces break out into similar, wide smiles.

Eventually my personal stylist comes. Apparently, the other two were just assistants or something.

I register that her name is Reggie and she tells me that our theme this year is lightning. Because lightning is powerful or some other what not. They dress me into a tight bright yellow dress that just barely covers me. I feel exposed with the amount of cleavage this dress creates, and the amount of freshly hairless leg I show.

But I have to admit that I do look attractive.

I wait out in the hallway as Mack comes around the corner, dressed in a black suit with a tie that matches my dress. As soon as he sees me, his face drops.

"What have you done to her?" he asks Reggie accusingly. Reggie, taken back, give him a quizzical look. "This doesn't even look like her. She looks fake."

I don't know whether to be offended or happy that Mack doesn't like the way I look. I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter. And according to Reggie, it certainly doesn't matter what Mack thinks. He grumbles and stands next to me as if to to protect me from anymore alterations. Ram arrives around the corner next and asks bouyantly if we are ready to go. Nobody says anything so he takes that as a yes.

We're directed to our chariot, and Ram instructs to act happy and proud. He tells me to play the sexy thing up, and this makes Mack scowl.

I lean up against the chariot that'll soon put me on as a show for the Capitol. I'm starting to second think my decision to be here. Obviously, I would have never let Tera, or anyone else for that matter, take my place. But was I really as ready as I thought? I was so ready to die like I should have, but I had no idea what it felt like it. It's not the idea of dying that scares me. It's the wait. The wait till the Hunger Games begin. It's the wait to see if I can't get Mack out of this.

I rub my eyes, smudging some make-up in the process. Oops. I wipe the smeared make-up on my hand onto the chariot. Nobody is going to see it anyway. As I do, I catch a glimpse at the other tributes. They all terrify me. They are all more prepared for this than i am. Even if I do change my mind, I will never get out of this alive.

Something catches my eye. A tall, dark-skinned boy, looking at me has offered a small smile. Before I have the chance to respond, Mack tells me it's time to get going.

As we wait to start moving, Mack turns to me.

"I don't care what Ram says," he says. He's probably saying this because he doesn't want anybody looking at me in any way other "respectful." Could he really be the jealous? I don't know. "I can't believe they did this to you, you look terrible."

"Thanks, I guess." I say quietly.

Mack takes my hand. "You know what I mean. You're the most beautiful person in Panem. And they make you look like someone else."

"Not everyone thinks of me like you do," I say.

"They would if they saw the real you."

With that, our chariot starts moving. I want to take Mack's hand, but I know that it's better not to.

Let the Hunger Games begin, I think.

I wake up to a knock from Mr. Bones. It's my first day of training and I'm freaked. All I had were dreams of a bright, hot red light and I've woken up sweating. Breakfast is first, and I eat nothing. Mack tries to force down some bread, but gives up after a few bites.

Ram is trying to be encouraging, saying it's just training but I still feel nervous. He tells us to try and make friends. I don't remind him that they'll all be dead soon, save one. Am I'm already friends with the person I want that one to be.

Ram and Mr. Bones ride the elevator down with us seeing us off like its our first day of school. In a way it is, I guess. I personally have no combat experience at all, so if I was actually competing, it woul be my first day of instruction. Mack an I agree to split up, so that we can learn different trades instead of us each learning the same one. It makes sense, to save time, so I head to the archery section. One of the other tributes, from Seven, I think, is aiming at a target ten feet away.

She barely makes it. She seems proud of herself, so I choose not to say anything negative. The instructor finishes with her and she marginally improves by the end. Next he turns his eyes on me and ushers me over. He shows me how to hold the bow correctly. After a minute or two, my arms are heavy. This are not the muscles I'm used to using. He finally gives me an arrow, but I'm too weak to shoot it. Embarrassed, I hand him back the bow as one of Careers laughs behind me.

Next I head to the edible plants and roots section. I enjoy this section, simply because it is pure memorization. I've always had a good memory and when the instructor quizzes us, I surprise her. I get a dirty look from the girl Career from District 1. This pleases me.

When I feel like I've learned all that seems useful, I turn next to the boxing section. The instructor is already working with the Career that had laughed at me earlier. I realize he is from three, and I now get a proper look at him. Strongly built, a shaved head. To me he seems sort of overly masculine and therefore ugly, but when the Instructor pulls me into the ring, I realize it doesn't matter how ugly he is, but that he can beat me to a pulp.

The Instructor gives me a pair of gloves and them helps me into them. I'm not sure why I'm doing it. Maybe I don't want to be embarrassed again. But soon enough I find myself in the ring with a bell sounding and I've realized that I am probably about to die. The Career runs at me and my next actions are pure instinct.

As he's running I realize he's going too fast, so I simply jump out of the way at the last second leaving my foot in front of his. Everyone in the arena hears his roars of anger as he pulls himself off the ground. The next thing I know he's throwing his fist at me. I am quick enough to spot that there is no technique in his strike, and he's only going for brute force. I side step his punch, grab his arm, and knee him in the ribs. I know I've done real damage to him when I hear something crack.

The instructor's whistle is blowing and he's come to the Career's aid.

"There is no use of legs in boxing," he spits out, feeling the fallen tribute's ribs. "You're banned from further participation in boxing."

I roll my eyes and peel off my gloves. It's his fault. He just gave me gloves and put me up against the biggest kid in the building. What was I supposed to do?

As I climb out of the ring, I search for Mack. He's across the room in the camouflage section, staring at me. We lock eyes for just a moment and then he turns back to what he's doing.

"That was pretty intense!"

I turn to the voice behind me. A tall, strongly built boy of my age is smiling.

He holds out his hand, "I'm Asher, District 11."

Slowly I take his hand. I introduce myself and he smiles. Asher. He looks exactly as he did when he smiled at me last night. A boy with light brown skin and curly black hair. I take in his appearance trying to catalog his name along with ever detail of his appearance.

"I didn't think someone like you would've have been able to take someone like him," he says beaming. Again, I'm not sure whether to take this as an insult or a compliment. He seems to sense what I'm thinking. "You know what I mean. He's a career. And massive. And you're neither of those things. This just proves that size doesn't matter."

He chuckles as he takes me in. Suddenly I'm uncomfortable with myself. Instead of the sultry Seraph from last night, he's seeing a drab and boring Seraph. I try to push back my hair without any real sign that I'm trying to look better. My light blonde hair is still smooth from last night, so that's a plus and then I realize what I'm thinking. It doesn't matter what this boy thinks.

So without another word, I turn and head to Hand to Hand Combat. They let you use your legs here. Or at least they should. Seriously, if we were fighting to the death in the Hunger Games, did the boxing instructor expect us not to use every weapon at our disposal?

The instructor introduces herself as Dove, and see pulls me into to see what I can do. We practice slowly at first, with her showing me what my reaction should be in a situation. I like Dove. She doesn't treat me as stupid. In fact, she knows how much this can mean to me in the arena, so she does her best. As we slowly speed up our training, I find myself going full force against Dove, and she in return. With every swipe of her hand, I redirect it, throw a light one her way and she does the same.

We go full speed for ten minutes before I start to tire. I realize that I have to end this quickly or I'm going to embarrass myself again. Slowly I catch every fist and kick she throws my way. I quickly see the pattern in her attack. A swipe from each fist and then a kick from the leg with a more advantageous position. As I collect this pattern, I decide upon a plan.

She begins her rotation with her left fist. This is when I can strike. I instinctively redirect every attack. When she moves to strike with her left fist again, I grab her wrist in anticipation and wrap it around her own neck. We're both breathing hard now when I let her go. At first I think she's going to admonish me for letting her go and letting my guard down, but instead she laughs.

"You are good," she says shaking her head. "Not the best I've seen though. Some people figure out my pattern long before you did. But most...most relax for one second and the fight is over. You never relaxed. You stayed focused the entire time. Are you ready for another go?"

Through Dove, I learn everybody has a natural pattern to hand to hand combat. None are nearly as easy as her initial attack on me, but because I now know what to look for, I should be able to spot it easier.

She also tells me about weak points on the body. She says that one direct hit can make someone lose feeling in a certain limb. That surprises me, for I've never heard of the body reacting like that.

She tells me that there are two kinds of fighters. One, like my boxing partner, goes for power, and the other goes for skill. And despite my district, she believes that I'm better off a skill fighter. She also teaches me some defensive techniques that I'm not sure I would have ever thought of.

"But you know what your problem is?" Dove asks me, and I shake my head. "You're too defensive. You don't play offense. For ten minutes you redirected my attack without launching a real counter-attack. You can't win if you don't play offense."

I take in her words. She pulls me back up and we being to spar again. Every now and then, she yells out an insult to try and get me to fight back. I do my best just to play defense, not wanting to hurt her. Eventually she stops me, shaking her head.

"You need to draw anger from somewhere," she says. "I want you to think of the worst thing that has ever happened to you. I want you to think it's my fault. Now, let's try again."

The only thing I can think of is Fay. And then I'm picturing Dove as Fay and I only wither more. Dove is noticing so she backs off. She tells me that it is almost lunch time, so I should go with the other tributes. No one is leaving quite yet, so I join Mack at the edible insect section. This disgusts me, but I force myself to pay attention for the ten minutes we have left. When that time is up, I've seen enough bugs to satisfy me for an entire lifetime.

Mack and I naturally sit with each other for dinner. I would have expected every district to do this with the exception of the Careers which is why I'm surprised when a group joins up. They are led by Asher, who sits right next to me. I feel myself sitting up straighter when he joins us.

With Asher came the girl tribute from District Seven, the archer I had wanted to laugh at. She introduces herself as Mali. A younger boy, who looks about thirteen introduces himself as Micah. Mali and Micah reveal themselves to be cousins, both from Seven. They both have the same dirty blonde hair and dark green eyes. I wonder what their families are doing right now. Probably grieving with each other.

Mali and Micah sit together next to Mack across from me. I feel a little angry that they feel that they can just join us, but I enjoy their company more than I had anticipated. It turns out the cousins are from the lumber district. They both started working early, so they both have strong, sturdy bodies. Micah is revealed to be an excellent tree climber to which Asher beams. Mack tells them about our district, even trying to explain chess to them. I remain mostly silent, moving around the few bits of beef left in my bowl. The more Mack talks, the more homesick I feel. The more I feel like I should be at home.

And then reality sinks in and I touch the metal chain around my neck. Asher notices but says nothing, continuing to listen to Mack try to explain chess. Asher reveals that music is sacred in his district. Mack and I both glance at each other. Nobody I've ever known likes singing, or likes listening to people sing. It was just never something that happened in District 5.

This information makes me wonder what other things District 5 has lost along the way.