Prologue
I'll Be Around

"I swear that I'll be around for you. I'll do whatever it takes, I'll make a million mistakes, I'll make the world safe and sound for you."

Maverick Sterling, 14
Victor of the First Hunger Games

I almost jump as the phone rings, loud and shrill, on the stand beside my bed. Breathe. Okay. Pick it up. Colonel Shields has started calling me on the phone recently – even though his room is right downstairs – because he thinks it'll give me practice talking to people without having him right beside me. Without being able to look to him for cues about what to say, what to do.

So I pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Maverick." Silence. He's waiting for me. Waiting for me to say something.

"Good morning, Colonel," I echo.

Colonel Shields chuckles a little. "Kid, how many times do I have to tell you that you can call me Arthur?"

I know. He says it every time. But it just feels wrong, somehow. Like calling your parents by their first name. Not that he's my father, but he's sort of stepped into the role ever since I came back from the Games. He's been like a father – or maybe a grandfather. I wouldn't call my grandfather "Arthur."

Still, I'm not really in a mood to argue. I'm usually not. After the war, after losing my parents, after the Games … nothing else really seems important enough to argue about. Every other little thing that might annoy other people seems so trivial. So I shrug a little and shout, "Good morning, Arthur!" with all the volume I can muster.

He sets down the phone. I hear him coming up the stairs. In a moment, the door opens, and he walks in with a smile on his face. "That's more like it. Are you ready?"

I nod. As ready as I'll ever be. Today is the reaping. It's been a whole year. A year since I volunteered for the Games, desperate to get off the streets – desperate enough to risk my life. A year since I stood on that stage, alone in the world, facing incredible odds that were certainly not in my favor.

I survived. I lived. And now, as long as the president approves my request, I'm going to help others do the same.

It was my idea – going to the Capitol along with the tributes. They have Gloria, of course – District One's escort, but I thought … well, I thought maybe I could help, too. Maybe offer a little advice, a little encouragement. Colonel Shields and Gloria said they would suggest the idea to the president, and we've been waiting for an answer.

We don't have to wait long. Gloria is there to greet us as we enter the district square, grinning from ear to ear. "He said yes!" she blurts out before I can even ask the question. "You're going to be the Hunger Games' very first mentor."

"Mentor?" What does that mean? What's a mentor supposed to do? Gloria opens her mouth to answer, but Colonel Shields holds up a hand. So she waits. Waits for me to form a more specific question. "Mentors, do—" I stop myself. Complete sentences. Think. "What … does a mentor do?"

"Anything you might want," Gloria gushes. "You can help the tributes get to know each other, you can give them advice, you can help them prepare for interviews, think of training strategies, choose allies – everything!" I must look a bit nervous, because she immediately backtracks. "But you won't have to do any of it alone. I'll be here for you the whole time – just like last year."

I nod. That makes it a little better. A little less intimidating. I swallow hard. I asked for this, after all. I wanted a way to contribute. I just didn't think … well, I guess I didn't think they'd give me so much responsibility. I thought maybe they would put me in charge of helping the tributes find their way around the Capitol, or making sure they have some idea of how the Games work. I never thought they would want to put a fourteen-year-old in charge of everything. But I suppose they figured since I survived the Games, I can handle it.

And maybe … well, maybe they're right. I survived the rebellion. I survived a mine explosion that could have killed me. I survived an arena of tributes who wanted me dead. How much harder can this be?

And ... we're back. That's right: Logan, Stars, and I are back for our second collaboration story, and we couldn't be more excited. As you've probably figured out (or maybe not if you jumped right to the bottom) this is the Second Hunger Games. A few guidelines are on my profile, along with the tribute form. Please send your tribute forms in my direction so we have them all in the same place. We look forward to seeing who you send our way.