"Olevia Planar,"

Please let me be hearing things. I must be hearing things. That strange lady on stage did not just pull my name from the giant fish bowls. My name did not get called out. I was not reaped. No. I'm just going crazy. I'm eighteen for crying out loud! My last year! All I needed was this one more year and I was home free! This isn't happening. This an elaborate daydream and any second I'll wake up and some other unlucky girl's name will be called.

"Olevia Planar?"

My hand goes to my throat and my heart stops. There are hisses and sympathetic looks from all around me, aimed at me. I'm not going crazy. I didn't hear wrong. My name was drawn from the giant fish bowl. My name was called out into the microphone. People start shoving me toward the stage, I even try to resist, but I know if I don't go willingly, Peacekeepers will step in. So I shove back a little, flatten out the lime green dress my mother almost didn't all me to wear, and walk up to the stage. But the whole time, my legs at shaking and I might burst into tears.

I'm going into the arena.

I am officially a tribute in the annual Hunger Games.

I'm going to die.

"Hello, Olevia," greets the strange lady. She trots over to me, grabs my hand and pats it with her other hand. I think shes' trying to be reassuring, but it's just making me want to snatch it back. She whips me around toward the vast sea of people looking at me. "Let's give Olevia a round of applause everyone! The girl tribute from District Three! I'm sure she'll do us proud,"

And there's a weak round of claps and she finally lets go of me. So I step back, fold my arms and hunch my shoulders. My gaze drops to the ground, making my glasses slide down my nose, because I'm practically sobbing and everyone probably knows it. I don't bother wishing for a volunteer. Who's crazy enough to willingly go in the arena? We are not District One, Two or Four. In those districts, tributes train, illegally, for the Games and then at the reaping, basically fight with each for who is going in that year. I think they're crazy, but typically they win. Cheaters.

I try to calm myself enough to listen out for the boy tribute. I might be able to bear this a little better as long as I don't hear either of two names. Just not those two names. Anyone but them. "And the boy tribute is …" The lady unfolds the paper and smiles like she's not announcing another dead child. "Phillip Dex! Come on up, Phillip,"

The corners of my mouth turn up in relief. It's not them. They're safe. At least one is, permanently. I still have two to worry about after this. No- no I don't. I'm sure I'll be dead the first day in that arena. I won't be worrying about much of anything when I come back in a wooden box. I look about to my male counterpart and don't recognize him. He must go to the regular school. I go to the special school for children who seem to have a knack for technological studies. He's younger than I, maybe by two years, so he's my siblings' age. Maybe he even knows them.

"Why don't we have a round for Phillip? He will do our district proud."

And there's a slightly bigger applause for him than me, probably because he's popular. But I don't care. Popularity back home does nothing for you in the arena. He comes to stand next to me, and the mayor goes forward to give a speech. She's reading off the Treaty of Treason, explaining why we hold these annual Hunger Games, but I'm sure more than half of the crowd could recite it by heart. I had to once for an assignment.

"Why don't you two shake hands?" she suggests after finishing her speech. Both staring into the other's blue eyes- while mine are more icy, his are more turquoise, clashing perfectly with his ginger hair- and reach out to grab hands. Stiffly, we shake then drop it, not wanting to be in this position. We're both thinking the same thing. We both know we're going to die. "May the odds be ever in your favor, young tributes."

They are most certainly not in my favor.

Nor will they ever be, I'm sure.

Immediately after the anthem is played, we're ushered into the Justice Building. We're lead down the same hallway but go into rooms directly across from the other. For the next allotted hour, we say our goodbyes. My family is first.

"Liv," calls my sister. Luce tosses the door open. Her face is red and puffy, and the top of her shirt is damp. "I can't believe it, Liv!" She runs across the room and throws herself at me. Then she promptly sobs into my neck as everyone else comes in. They all look the same. Inky black hair, pale skin, sad eyes – I have my father's blue, and my siblings have my mother's gray.

"Why my baby?" my mother shrieks, clinging to my father. "I—I can't believe my little girl has to—has to—" And she can't even finish her sentence, sobbing into my father's shoulder.

"Someone's name was going to get called," I say to her and my sister. "Just be happy Luce and Chip weren't chosen. It's just me."

"Just you?" my mother gasps. "Do you think you're not important to us?"

"Every family is sad over their child going into this. I'm no more special than any of them."

Luce pulls away suddenly. "I'm going to volunteer! You can't go in, Liv! You can't!"

I yank her back. "Even if it is too late, there's no way I'd ever let you do that."

"You can't die," she declares loudly. "Promise me you'll live! Promise me!"

I want to tell her it's going to be okay, I want to promise I'll live. I really do, but I can't force myself to do it. So I start I'm sobbing with my sister, our mother joins us, and our father rubs her back, trying to choke back tears himself. Only Chip, Luce's fraternal twin, stands alone in the background, no tears coming from his eyes. He's just standing there, breathing deeply.

After blubbering how much we love each other, how we can't believe this is happening, their time comes to an end. Peacekeepers will be in at any moment to take them out. My father literally has to drag Luce off of me. She's clinging, screaming for me to promise her to try, but I don't. Why bother? We all know I'm not making it out of there alive.

I'm scrubbing my eyes when I finally address my brother. "Chip?" He hums in response. "Why won't you just … say something? Please. I'd like a goodbye."

"No," he growls, head ducked enough that his eyes are covered.

"You're my little brother and I'm going to die! I think I deserve at least a hug from you!"

Instead of answering, he tosses something at me. "You're allowed one keepsake."

I rub the fabric between my fingers. "My favorite scarf?" It's my only scarf really, but I love it dearly. Maybe it's a childish reason, but it's my favorite are the colors. Its stripes are the colors of the rainbow, sticking out amongst the drab and dull we're usually forced to wear.

"You love bright colors, so I thought you might want this."

"Thank you." I toss it around my neck, give him a teary grin, and hold out my arms. "But I still want a goodbye, Chip."

"No," he deadpans.

"Chip," Luce whines, fighting our father's hold. "She's our sister! She's going—"

"Shut up, Luce I know." He sighs. "If I say goodbye … it becomes real. I know she'll try, but those other tributes, they'll be trying even harder to survive, get to their families …" He looks over at me and that's when I see the tears. "To kill you."

The Peacekeepers come in the next second and take them away from me forever.

There's only half an hour left at this point. I only have one more goodbye. But honestly, I almost wish he wouldn't come. I wish he'd given up on me the second my name was called.

Preparing myself for his entrance, I sit down on a chair, twiddling my thumbs, determinedly staring into my lap. "You can do this," I hiss to myself. "No tears. Not a single one, Liv." Though I'm sure I've cried myself dry. "If he comes, no crying. Just hold him close. Don't ruin it mindless blubbering. You know he'll be strong when, or if, he comes. You can't cry in front of him. No, no, no."

"Liv."

I take a deep breath then look up to see him. Tears are streaming from his silver-gray eyes, his hands are grasping the door frame so desperately his knuckles are white, and he looks like he's struggling to breathe normally. All in all, he's a mess. And I'm torn between being heart broken at the sight and overjoyed that he's here.

"Liv," he repeats, sounding like a lost little child.

The only thing I can think to say now is, "I'm so sorry, Dell."

He's baffled. "What for?"

"Because," I whimper. To hide, I hug my legs and bury my face in my knees. "My name. It was called. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm eighteen. This was my last year in the lottery, but I still got my name called. I'm sorry, Dell, I'm sorry."

He's standing over me now, I can feel it. "Do you think this is your fault? Do you think you could've prevented this?"

"I don't know," I croak.

I hear him drop to his knees. "Liv, are you crazy? None of this was your fault. We couldn't have stopped it from happening? You know that."

One, two, three deep breaths. "I do." Another. "But I don't know what else to say."

Unexpectedly, two arms wrap around me, encasing me in a cocoon of warmth and love, a hand gently cradling the back of my head. My vision blurs. My breaths are choppy. My throat constricts. Without hesitating, I throw my arms around him and now we're both on our knees. So I was wrong. I can still produce tears. A lot of them. I can already feel his shirt dampening. For precaution, I bite down on my lip to suppress sobs, but that doesn't stop my body jerking with each one that wants to break out.

"You don't have to say anything. Don't say anything."

"Dell," I rasp. "This is the last time we'll ever—"

"Don't you dare say that, Liv," he snaps. Dell holds me closer. "You're going to make it out. I know you will."

I attempt to shove him away, but his grip on me only tightens. "No, I'm won't! We both know that," I avoid making eye contact. "I'm not … I'm not strong enough to survive. I'll probably be one of the first to die like almost everyone else from our district."

"Shut up! Don't say that," he begs. "You're not like everyone else."

I laugh bitterly. "Oh please. You know me well enough to know I'll be lucky if I don't trip and blow up in the first minute."

"Shut up," He yanks away and shakes me hard once. "Try to live! Promise me. Try."

My head drops. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Dell challenges.

Deep breath, in and out. "Both."

"Please, for me," he begs, squeezing my shoulders. "If not for me, your family; your parents, Luce, and Chip! Please, anything to bring you back! I have to see you again! I can't lose you! Especially not this way! Fight, damnit! Fight! Please,"

"Don't you see, Dell? I don't stand a chance out there. But … you will see me again." His body relaxes just slightly. A ghost of a smile spread across his mouth. I run a hand through his hair. "I just won't see you again."

"But how—?"

I cut him off. "You don't see much of anything when you're in a wooden box, Dell."

Dell starts stammering – which is something he never, ever does – trying to think of a way out of this. He's so very smart, the smartest person I know, that I've been lucky enough to know, but even he can't get us out of this quandary and he knows it. "Then … then—then at least lie to me. I know you're a horrible liar, but do it. Tell me you're going to try. Tell me you're going to fight for your life. I just need something to hold onto while people are being slaughtered. While I'm watching you be—"

"Fine," I concede. "If it'll make you feel better."

"It will. Just do it."

"Okay." With a sudden tenderness, I hold his face in my hands, my gaze flickering between his eyes. I let out another huff. "I will tryto survive. I will try with every fiber of my being to come back to my family, to my friends, and most importantly you. Because I love you. I will come back from the Hunger Games. I will win. Because I love you, Dell. So, so much. And don't you ever forget that." And because it's the only thing I can give him wholeheartedly, I kiss him hard on the lips.

Before I can truly enjoy it though, Dell He kisses me on each cheek, my chin, the tip of my nose, my forehead, temples, he removes my glasses to peck my eyelids, my hair line – everywhere! Dell even raises my hands close to our faces and kisses the back of each. This is not what I want. I catch his lips with mine and resist him trying to pull away. My hands grab him by the collar of his shirt, refusing to let him escape. He finally gets the hint, but at the same pointing time, I can taste the salt of our tears.

Damnit, I'm dying in a week, I love him, I want to kiss!

After a few minutes, our waterworks stop, and we're just holding each other. This moment should never end. get so lost in the kiss though, I forget about resisting his resistance until he's already pried us apart. Instead of making the rounds of small kisses all over, he purrs one line to me in my ear. "Marry me."

My blood goes cold. "What?"

"Marry me, Liv," he says again. "I love you, Olevia Planar! And you love me! That's all it takes! I mean, we're already in the Justice Building! All we have to do is get the damn paper signed and we're done! You'll be my wife and I'll be your husband! It won't even take five minutes and we still have more than ten left. Why shouldn't we?"

"Because I'm a dead girl," I exclaim. I stand up and take five steps away. "Are you stupid? We'll be married for less a week! Most of that time you'll be watching me die on live television! I won't marry you! I love you! You know that! I love you, Dell Alden! But I will not let you loose your wife in a matter of days! I'm not going to make you a widow at eighteen."

The hurt in his eyes is unbearable. "Don't you want to marry me?"

How can he think to ask that? "Yes, of course, but—"

"All I want is you, Liv. Who cares about me?"

"Well, you can't and won't have me. Only a madman would marry a girl practically on her deathbed. And then he goes crazy from losing her. Just forget about me. Act like I never existed. I was never here. We never met."

"Like I can do that. I could never forget you."

I should've expected that answer. I rub my temples. "There's no way I'm marrying you right now, okay? I'm sorry, Dell. You have no idea how happy it'd make me, but no."

"Right now?" he repeats slowly, cocking an eyebrow.

I nod. "There's no way I'll do it."

"Will you marry me when you come home?"

I groan. "No, Dell, I won't—" My eye catches his. And the hurt in those silver orbs, the tear track running down his cheeks gag the words in my throat. "Fine." Even though he wants me to lie, this isn't a lie. Not completely.

Dell picks up on that fact. "Really?"

"Yes," I sigh. "When I come home, I will marry you. The very second I step off the train platform. Have the papers ready by then. I'll sign them on camera if you want. So everyone will know how much I love you. All of Panem will witness it." By the end of it, I wish it were the whole truth. I pull him in for another kiss, sealing the fake deal. "I love you and I want to marry you. I really do."

He presses his lips to my forehead. "Thank you."

I gesture to the chair I was seated in earlier and he sits down first, pulling me into his lap. I tuck my legs into my chest, lay my head on his shoulder and he lays his on mine. Dell's holding me with one arm and playing with one of my hands with his other hand. He's also crooning on about our wedding; our wedding that will never happen. "I think we should have a formal ceremony later on," he muses. "Don't you think? You'll wear a beautiful white dress. The flowers we'll use will be in every color imaginable. Our families will be there …" I close my eyes, picturing it all in my head. I can't help but smile. And cry some more.

But then my eyes flash open, I look up at him, and cover a gasp with my hand. "Dell?"

"What?" he asks, panicked. "What is it, Liv? What's wrong?"

"I'm … engaged," I say gravely.

He beams down at me. "What a coincidence, so am I." And he lifts my chin up to peck my nose, then forehead before letting go. "You won't be coming home soon enough," he chuckles lightly.

"I'll be home soon. Promise." Just not the way he wants.

To my surprise, Dell roughly grabs my chin again and forces his lips onto mine. It feels more urgent than the last and that's when I see the time. Any second now, I'll be leaving his side forever.

"Miss Planar, Mr. Dex," says our escort from the hallway. "It's time to go." Dell and I both get up and walk to the door hand in hand. She lays a hand on my shoulder and Phillip's, who's with a girl. "I'm sorry. But it's time to go now."

I kiss him again. "I love you, Dell." Another kiss. "Tell my family I love them for me. Tell your sisters." Another kiss. "I love you. I'll miss you."

"You'll be back in no time,"

I don't think I've changed my mind on trying to survive, but I nod. False hope is all I can give him. When Dell and Phillip's visitor are walking away from us, I look over at the young boy. The way he's looking after her, it's obvious. That girl to him is what Dell is to me. But Phillip looks on the verge of tears, so I reach out and grab his hand. He's stunned by the gesture, but squeezes back and attempts a smile, but it turns into a frown and he's pulling me toward him.

"I don't want to die," he cries into my neck.

Is this happening? "I know. Phillip, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to go! I'll die out there! This isn't fair! Why do we have to die for something we had nothing to do with? My parents didn't fight in the Rebellion! Neither did my grandparents! Why should I do this? And how is my death so entertaining to those people in the Capitol? How would they like it if their friends or family were in there? It's just not right!"

I awkwardly muss his hair. "I know. They're evil." I pinch his chin. "But wipe your eyes. We'll be on camera and you can't be weeping like a baby on live television. Even if we both know we're not coming out alive, let's fake it til we make. Give her—"

"Celera," he states firmly. "That's her name."

Bobbing my head, I continue. "Okay, Celera. At least give Celera something respectable to look at on TV."

"Something respectable," he parrots. Phillip nods then uses the sleeve of his dress shirt to clean the tears and snot.

With my thumb, I swipe the last of the tears. "Better. Now you and me, we're going to be allies. Keep each other sane until we absolutely have to split up. Promise?"

He nods again. "Okay."

"Good."

And I let go of him and we're lead by several Peacekeepers to the train that'll take us to the Capitol. Cameras flash in every direction and reporters try to shove microphones in our faces, but Phillip and I don't speak to anyone. We don't even look at each other. I'm yanking hard on my scarf, as if to choke myself out of nerves. We get through the sea of news teams and step into the train for our first – and last – ride ever.