There's something they aren't telling me. I know them well enough.

When they have a secret, Mom wrings her hands and bites her lip. Dad laughs at everything and talks way too loud. That's been my life for the last few days.

I walk into the living room and flop onto the couch. They break their huddle. "Alright. What's the secret?" I ask. Mom gives a weak smile that is too easy to see through. "Clover, honey, what are you talking about?"

I have to take a deep breath to keep from yelling at them—but that's not something that their Perfect Little Clover would do. "Mom, I know you two are hiding something. Would you please tell me what it is?"

I almost expect Mom to say, Well, because you said please, but she just exchanges a nervous glance with Dad. "Clover—we're—we're moving."

Once I get over the initial shock, I realize that moving might not be so bad. I could go someplace where I'm not Clove Fuhrman, goody-two-shoes. I could make a new identity for myself.

"Okay, where to?" I ask. Mom n' Dad seem surprised at my mild reaction. "Well, honey…before we tell you, you need to know that we love you very much." Uh-oh. This can't be good. "The only reason we're doing this is because your father got a very good job there with very good pay."

"Okay…so, where are we going?"

Mom n' Dad give each other The Look. "We're moving to—to Panem. Have you—"

"P-Panem! Are you freaking kidding me! I've heard stuff about that place. Like how the government is so controlling that no one knows what really goes on there. But haven't you heard the rumors? How they torture kids for fun? Why the hell would we move there!"

Mom n' Dad sit dumbstruck for a minute. They're not used to hearing words like that come out of my mouth.

"Well, Clover, calm down! Of course those rumors aren't true. We've done research. And remember that business trip I took last month? I went to Panem, for the job interview. It was beautiful and everyone was so nice. They speak English, you know."

Oh, good to know. I thought they spoke Panish. I snicker at my own dumb joke.

In the next moment, I make a split-second decision. To keep their Perfect Little Clover alive. It might serve me well in Panem. (I'm not going to fight the move—once Mom n' Dad make up their minds, there is NO NEGOTIATION.)

So, six days later, I'm saying goodbye to the house I've lived in my entire life. Before we left, I'd emptied out the space under the loose floorboard in my room, the space where I keep my secrets. On the underside of the board I'd written my name and the date, so maybe someone, someday, will find the little piece of me.

Mom n' Dad had to hire a private jet to take us to Panem, because no commercial airlines fly there. Don't you think that's a little creepy? I'd asked them earlier, in a half-hearted attempt to get some reconsideration. But they had just waved me off, saying it's a little exotic, that's all.

I'm not complaining about the jet, though. It's very cushy, with leather seats and TVs and huge windows. I don't know how they can afford it. Maybe Dad got a cash advance on his new job or something.

The pilot comes out, and he's this big guy with a round, pink face and no hair. He shakes my parents' hands and waves to me. Mom gestures for me to come over, but I pretend not to see her. Instead, I stare out the window and think about what little info I found on Panem.

They have twelve "districts" instead of states, and the Capitol. President Snow and all the richies live in the Capitol, and District 1 and 2 aren't so bad off either. But the districts seem to get poorer as the numbers get higher, until District 12, which is poor-poor-poor. Thankfully, we're moving to a fairly nice place in District 2.

That's all okay, I guess, but I found some creepier stuff, too. There's this rumor that they hold something called the Hunger Games, where a guy and a girl from each district get sent to an arena and battle to the death, until there's just one champion. That seriously freaked me out, but I figure that's just a rumor. It has to be. I mean, Mom and Dad would have known if that was true. We wouldn't be moving there if it was true.

That's what I keep telling myself.