"What are you doing here?" I asked, realizing a moment too late like I sounded annoyed to see her.

Sure enough, she arched an eyebrow. Her grin turned to the smirk I'd seen in the Capitol, and she said, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me. We victors have to stick together, you know."

"No, sorry, I'm glad you're here," I said hurriedly. "What I meant was, how did you get here?" Last time I'd seen Allison, she'd been in my Capitol apartment, asking me to visit her in District Two if I got a chance.

"It wasn't difficult," Allison replied, pushing herself away from the wall and breezing past me. I followed her, finally beginning to take in my surroundings. "I put on an Avox uniform and hopped on the train with your little coterie of servants. Of course, that Honeyman woman would've recognized me, so I had to hide in the bar car until the train stopped. From there, all I had to do was keep pretending to be an Avox so I could get into your building when they dropped off your stuff."

I followed the wave of Allison's hand and saw that the Avoxes had indeed moved the things from my Capitol shopping spree into the apartment already, although I'd meant it when I said they could wait until morning. The small pile of items – most of it was medicine or toys for the kids; I'd order food once I was settled – sat in the middle of an expansive white-carpeted room. From the furnishings, I guessed the room was meant for entertaining, though who I was supposed to entertain, I didn't know.

"Come on, I'll show you the rest of it," Allison said, waving me onward. Briefly, I considered the irony of Allison Romano giving me a tour of my own home, but I merely shook my head and obeyed, following her down a short hallway into the kitchen.

"Welcome to my least favorite room," Allison intoned, adopting an exaggerated Capitol accent that made me laugh for the second time in one day. "Here we have the stove, with six burners ideal for scorching food into inedibility. And consider the double sink, which is absolutely ideal for drowning oneself in order to avoid having to wash dishes."

"I take it you're not the domestic type," I said wryly, interrupting Allison's monologue before she could start telling me how to use the oven to set fire to the apartment complex.

"How did you guess?" Allison asked. "Honestly, volunteering for the Games was the single best decision of my life. Not even my mother has dared bemoan my lack of proper cooking skills since I won, and she was the worst before."

"Well, I'll have you know that I enjoy cooking, thank you very much," I huffed, pretending to be offended. That wasn't quite true; I was capable of producing an edible meal, but that didn't mean I liked it.

"You would," Allison snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, not sure whether to be offended.

"You're Little Miss Perfect, aren't you? You love kids, you refuse to kill anyone in the arena, you crack jokes in front of a Capitol audience…of course you can cook."

I was reminded of how little I knew about Allison, despite the fact that I considered her a friend. "Do you resent me for any of that?" I asked quietly, studying her expression with care. "I know you had to kill during your Games."

"You watched my Games?" Allison asked, pretending to be stunned. I guessed I wasn't going to get a serious answer to my question at the moment.

"Well, the Hunger Games are televised nationally, and since it's a crime not to watch, I suppose I did," I said breezily, willing to play her game. "I mean, it was years ago, so I don't remember much…" That much was true; I'd been twelve during the 21st annual Games, so I'd been far too busy celebrating the fact that I hadn't been reaped to really pay attention.

It was also the year after my leg had been crushed by one of the massive metal-stamping machines in the automotive factory, and I'd been lost in my own little world of pain and anger.

Now Allison looked offended, and I wasn't sure how much of it was part of her act. "You didn't pay attention to my Games? But I was amazing!" she grimaced at me, her four gold teeth glinting sharply in the light of the kitchen.

"I was only twelve!" I retorted, before realizing that probably wasn't much of an excuse in her district, where life seemed to revolve around the Hunger Games.

Sure enough, she dismissed my attempt with a toss of her head. "Great, now you're saying I'm old," she muttered under her breath.

"You're the second person who's accused me of calling her old today," I said. "And I really thought you were less vain than Theta Honeyman, but I suppose not."

She spun to face me, eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're good," she said finally, rewarding me with a small chuckle. "Save your manipulating for the Capitol from now on, and I think we'll make a good team. Now come on, I'll show you the bedrooms."

A good team? What game are we playing now? I wondered, suddenly very tired. "This is the master bedroom, I think," Allison announced, opening a door at the end of the long hallway from the kitchen. Immediately, I winced: the room was decorated in shades of brown and beige with accents in yellow. It reminded me at once of the desert.

"Nope, I'm not sleeping here," I said, backing away. "Surely there are guest rooms? I'll take one of those."

Allison must've seen something in my eyes that convinced her not to argue, because she closed the door on the desert-colored room and led me back down the hall with her hand on my elbow. "Yes, you have two extra bedrooms," she confirmed. "I've already claimed the one closest to the stairs, so you're stuck with this one."

She opened another door, this time on a room painted a soothing shade of blue. A quick glance inside revealed the bed, a couch, a walk-in closet and an attached bathroom. "Since you've already invited yourself to stay the night, I suppose this will do," I said. "Won't someone be worried that you're missing, though?"

Allison laughed, and not in a good way. She tapped a finger against the inside of her left arm, saying, "If anyone really wants to find me, they just have to dig up my tracker signal. I've always wondered if the Capitol keeps the codes active so they can keep an eye on their victors."

I shivered. What an awful thought. Now Panem was just a big arena, and the Capitol could track my every move if they so chose.

"Yeah, isn't that wonderful?" Allison asked, voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "Anyway, try to get some rest. You can check out the rest of the place in the morning." And she left, disappearing down the hall on silent feet.

After a ten-minute search for the bathroom light switch, I took a brief shower and changed into a long nightshirt I found in the closet, then settled into bed. I tossed and turned for a good quarter of an hour before finally sitting up and throwing all but one pillow onto the floor in disgust. When I lay back down, it no longer felt like I was being suffocated, and I sighed in relief.

When I woke in the dark with the sound of a scream ringing in my ears, I thought for a split second I was back in the arena. Then I realized that didn't make sense, because I'd been the one screaming in the arena, and Neera had comforted me.

I slid out of bed and walked down the hall, going mostly by feel because Allison had turned the lights off when she went to bed and none of the switches in this apartment seemed to be in the logical places. A small eternity later, I found the third bedroom, the one next to the stairs.

The door was closed but not locked, so I twisted the knob and went inside. "Allison?" I called softly, unable to make out so much as the shape of the bed in the darkness. Suddenly, a hand was at my throat, gripping so tightly I could feel my windpipe creaking under the strain. I flailed my arms helplessly – my assailant was clearly much stronger than I – before my hand encountered a cool plastic protrusion on the wall behind me.

A light switch! I flicked it on, and the room was flooded with golden illumination.

"Shit, Memorie," said my attacker, releasing me at once. "Are you hurt? I'm sorry. That was –"

"Reflex, I know," I broke in, turning to face Allison. Her brown hair was tousled from sleep, but her eyes were alert as always. "Does everyone from your district have this urge to assault anyone who disturbs their rest?" I wanted to reach up and massage my neck, partially to reassure myself it was still in one piece, but I refrained, afraid I'd make Allison feel bad.

She walked over to the bed – I saw she'd removed all the pillows, and everything except a single blanket – and sat down hard. "It's these damn dreams," she said bitterly, running her fingers through her hair. "They're not as bad as right after I got out of the arena, but they're still bad enough. God, Varius would be pissed. He never managed to teach me to sleep silently, even before the Games."

I sat on the bed beside her, and she shifted to face me, whether out of courtesy or fighting instinct I wasn't sure. "I've never seen a tribute come out of the arena without all kinds of phobias and nightmares," she said. "I was sure you'd have nightmares, but you never came to see me in the Capitol. Then I snuck in here tonight because I was afraid you were just waiting to off yourself like that boy from Six."

Allison had just said so many confusing things that I hardly knew where to begin. "Which boy from Six?" I asked first.

"The kid who won the 11th Hunger Games, the year of the earthquake. The Capitol tried to play it off as a house fire when he died, but Varius said he'd done it on purpose. I wanted to make sure you weren't just pretending to be calm until you were somewhere private where you could do the same."

"You thought I was going to kill myself?" I asked, disbelieving. "Neera died so I could live! I'm not throwing that away, no matter how many nightmares I have."

Allison sighed and relaxed a little – if I hadn't met Neera and Varius, I wouldn't have recognized the tiny slump of her shoulders as anything but part of her normal breathing – and gave me a ghost of her usual smile. "I doubted you'd kill yourself, but there was no harm in being sure," she replied.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you," I said grudgingly, though I was displeased that she'd considered me the type of person to do something like that. "What are your nightmares about? I keep dreaming that I'm walking across the desert with Neera, but she suddenly turns into Glint and comes after me with an axe." I hadn't discussed my bad dreams with anyone since Neera, and the nightmares I had now made the ones from the arena look positively cheerful.

"I have a bunch of different ones," Allison said. "Tonight, I dreamed that the pack turned on me and I spent days running from them. Then I ran out of water." She swallowed hard. "This was a new one. I usually don't scream anymore, but it took me by surprise. I woke up and thought I was back in the arena until you turned the light on."

I wished she didn't sound so ashamed for screaming when she'd had a nightmare. For the hundredth time, I wondered exactly what kind of training the District Two tributes faced in preparation for the Games. Neera had broken my arm when I touched her shoulder to wake her up, and now this. "No harm done," I told her, trying to sound reassuring. "Actually, it's good that you woke me, because I'm sure I would've started dreaming soon anyway, and that's never fun."

"So, you dream too," Allison mused. "How about the other stuff? Are you afraid of things that didn't bother you before?"

"Not really. I didn't want to sleep in the master bedroom because the colors reminded me of my arena, but other than that, I'm fine," I said. Privately, I thought it was probably because I hadn't come home to a district full of weapons, battle-hardened victors and deadly trainees like she probably had. "Oh, and I don't like looking at Varius' hair, because it's the same as Neera's," I added, because I hadn't been trying to come across as some fearless victor.

"What about me?" Allison asked. "Do I remind you of Neera?" There was an undercurrent to her tone I couldn't quite pin down, but I knew my answer was more important to her than she was letting me see.

"You have the same instincts, I think, probably because you were trained by Varius like she was," I said. "But other than that, no. You're nothing like Neera. For one thing, you would never have saved a helpless tribute like she did." It came out sounding harsh, but I knew it was true, and that was important.

"Damn straight," Allison said, her customary smirk finally finding its way back onto her face. "I'm a by-the-book kind of girl. None of that fancy heroics for me."

I was inexplicably glad she hadn't tried to claim that she would've done the same in Neera's place. It would have demeaned her sacrifice, somehow. "Let me guess, you're a good little Career," I teased, knowing Allison would have to respond to my taunt. "You always followed your mentor's orders to the letter, and you got lots and lots of sponsor gifts."

As I'd anticipated, Allison snorted, relaxing far enough to drop back onto the bed as she contemplated my comment. "I don't know if I'd go that far," she said, staring up at the ceiling. This bedroom was smaller and plainer than the other two, I noted, the walls and ceiling a simple off-white. "I did my fair share of improvisation during my Games. I did have lots of sponsors, though," she said, sounding smug.

"Although," she added darkly, "once you're home, sponsors aren't quite the blessing they were in the arena."

No, I imagine they aren't, I thought. The Capitol citizens I'd met acted like they owned me. It would probably be a hundred times worse if they'd spent exorbitant amounts of money to send me gifts that had ensured my survival. Then, they would think I owed them my life.

Besides, I'd been in the Capitol just long enough to find out what happened to the older, more attractive victors, ones like Allison and me. Varius too, I was sure, when he was a recent victor if not currently. People paid the government for the privilege of spending time with us, and what they did during that time was their own business.

So far, I'd been lucky. Tesla Monogram had purchased six hours with me so I could babysit his children while he and his wife went on a date – and, no doubt, so he'd have something to brag about the next evening on his talk show – but I knew from Allison's haunted look that she hadn't been as fortunate. It made sense, I supposed. She'd been a victor for four years, which meant the Capitol had had plenty of time to profit from her beauty.

My instinct was to offer Allison some gesture of sympathy, but I knew anything I said would sound empty, and rightly so. Perhaps, I thought, we can talk about it once I've been whored out a few times myself.

I looked up to find Allison staring at me, and I realized I'd been quiet for an awfully long time, effectively killing our conversation. I cleared my throat. "On that cheerful note, I'm going back to bed," I announced, hopping up with a jaunty smile I didn't feel. "And I'll remember to wear armor if I ever have to check on you after a nightmare again."

As had become my custom, I woke up around dawn. Since I'd been kept in a medically induced coma for so long after being pulled out of the arena, I had expected my sleep schedule to be out of whack for a few weeks at the very least. What I hadn't expected was to revert to the schedule Neera had kept during the Games.

After my shower, I went in search of Allison. The door to her room was open, so I poked my head inside, albeit warily. I had no desire to be strangled again if I took my guest by surprise. Fortunately, Allison saw me before I saw her.

"Good morning, sunshine," she sang. "You're up early." She was lying on her back on the floor with her feet wedged under the bedframe, doing crunches, but she paused to talk to me.

"Good morning, Allison. What are you doing?" I asked.

"My morning workout, what does it look like?" she replied, wrinkling her forehead in confusion.

"Yes, I see that," I said. "I meant to ask why you're exercising at 6 a.m., actually."

If anything, her frown deepened. "This is what I do," she informed me unhelpfully. "This is what I've done every morning since I was eleven."

"That made sense when you were preparing for the Games, maybe," I acknowledged. Emphasis on the maybe – that seems extreme even for a Career. Did Neera train this hard? "But what's the point now? It's not like the Capitol's going to shove you back into the arena without warning."

Allison levered herself to her feet, and I could see that she was wearing a close-fitting outfit of dark shorts and a matching top. "Yeah, well, they would if they could. Besides, I only work out in the morning and the evening now, so it's nothing like when I was a trainee."

She walked toward the kitchen, and I trailed after her, automatically placing my feet in the prints her shoes were leaving in the thick carpet. In the kitchen, she began opening cupboards at random, and I saw that the room was already fully stocked.

"Where do you keep your protein powder?" she asked when the final cupboard failed to yield results.

"You know this place better than I do," I reminded her. "Besides, why do you want protein powder?"

"I have a twenty-ounce protein shake for breakfast every morning," she told me. "Neera probably did the same. It's part of the de Luca training diet."

"That sounds disgusting," I said, turning to open the refrigerator. It, too, was filled with food. "Here, let me make you some scrambled eggs," I prompted, removing the carton from the top shelf and placing it on the counter. "Eggs have protein."

"Okay, but only because I want to see if you can actually cook," Allison said, pulling a tall stool over to the stove and settling herself on it with an air of challenge.

"This isn't real cooking," I informed her. "Any kid can make scrambled eggs. If you're here tonight, I'll make you dinner, and then you'll know I can cook." Part of my job at the daycare had been providing lunch for the children while their parents were at work in the factories, so I'd mastered a variety of quick and easy meals as well as a few more complicated ones.

"Well, it smells good," she said, leaning forward to inhale the steam that rose from the pan as I cracked eggs into it.

"Thanks. So, you said that two workouts a day was easier than training for the Games. How much do tributes do when they're preparing for the arena?" I asked.

"Once trainees turn twelve, they spend at least eight hours a day in the Training Center – the one in our district, obviously, not the Capitol – or working with their mentors individually," Allison replied casually.

My jaw dropped. "Neera told me training replaced school for the more serious candidates, but she never said…eight hours…" I marveled.

"She probably didn't think you could handle it," Allison said. "The knowledge of how things work in Two, I mean, not the training. Obviously you couldn't train for eight hours a day. You'd collapse after two or three, I think." Her offhand tone made it clear she wasn't insulting me, just stating a fact. Is that something they teach you in Two? How to look at a person and tell exactly how long they can keep fighting, or running?

Would Neera have withheld information about her district for the sake of my peace of mind? In spite of everything, I hadn't known her well enough to say for sure, though it seemed likely. "No wonder the Capitol forbids children to prepare for the Games," I said. "And no wonder the ones who prepare anyway always win."

"Almost always," Allison reminded me. "You're alive, aren't you? Besides, this is the fifth year in a row that someone besides my district has won the Games, so other things play into a victory. Luck. Intelligence. Sponsors."

"Still, it's unfair," I huffed. "Here, eat your eggs." I scooped them onto a white plate and handed it to Allison along with a fork.

Is that what I'll have to do to keep my tributes alive? I wondered. Make them into Careers? I can't. I won't. I'd rather every one of them died than have even one turn out like Glint.