Every reaping day is somber. But today there is more silence than ever before. Three glass bowls sit on stage: one for girls, one for boy, one for Victors. Joel, who's two years older than me, stands with Uncle Tommy and the rest of District 12. I can feel their eyes on me but I can't turn back and nod reassuringly like I always do. The guilt is eating me up. I should have said something. I should have let them know. I could have given them more time to accept it.

It's odd standing in the crowd with all the other kids. Some of them are so afraid they visibly shake. I want to comfort them. I want to tell them that it's not going to be them, it's going to be me. I guess they'll know soon enough. Still, it's strange seeing the fear. I feel like an outsider even surrounded by all the others. I wonder what it's like to feel like an outsider for another reason; knowing you won't be picked. Knowing that it's going to be me should make me nervous. I should be shaking like a leaf. But I've known for a week. I've accepted my fate. I've trained a little, learned enough to survive the environment, if not the other tributes.

There are little things that I'm very aware of; the mass amount of Peacekeepers, Peeta squeezing Katniss' hand before stepping onto the stage, the hollow look in Katniss' eyes, Haymitch's gaze finding me in the crowd, my brothers and sisters in the rebellion and the anger rolling off of them in waves, the mockingjay hanging beneath my shirt. Effie steps up to the microphone. There's something somber about her as well. She doesn't have the same bubblegum pink hair as last time. She's chosen a dull purple-grey instead. It's no consolation but it's nice to have her sympathy. "Welcome… welcome to the 75th annual Hunger Games." Her voice has lost its usual cheeriness.

Haymitch and I lock eyes. He raises an eyebrow, asking if I'm still going through with this. I nod once, trying not to draw attention to myself. He doesn't respond but turns his head away to face Peeta. If Katniss' name is pulled, or when it's pulled, he's going to hold him back. We don't need Peeta jumping in.

I move slowly and quietly towards the edge of the roped section. I'll need to jump out as soon as her name is called, just in case Peeta breaks Haymitch's hold. I inch behind my peers but they don't even notice. Neither do the Peacekeepers when I sneak in next to the rope. I run my hand along its coarse threads, trying not to think. Subconsciously, I place my hand over the mockingjay pin I've strung on a necklace and hidden under my shirt.

"First, the Victors." Effie reaches her hand into the bowl; only three slips lay on the bottom. My hand twitches, ready to shoot up. My whole spine tingles and my muscles tighten. I feel sick. One second and everything can go wrong.

"Katniss Everd…"

Haymitch tugs Peeta's arm roughly and causes him to stagger back, his mouth still open and ready to volunteer. "I volunteer!" I scream loud enough for everyone to hear. Let there be no mistake.

And then it's dead silent.

I hop over the rope but meet instant resistance by the Peacekeepers. Two grab my shoulders and Romulus Thread leans down to my eye level. "What… did you say?"

"I volunteer" I sneer, breathing out hard, getting ready for a fight. "Where does it say a civilian can't volunteer for a Victor?" His hand balls into a fist. I know exactly what he wants to do. But he's hesitating. He can't. Not when this is being broadcasted. So I wait.

They hold me for a few minutes. They don't take their hands off me and I don't try to shake them off. They're making a call to the Game Maker if I had to guess. I'm sure they've cut broadcasting but Thread still doesn't make a move to use his fist. I know he would but he must think he's still being broadcast.

There are a lot of people watching me in the crowds. They don't say anything and I don't try to figure out their emotions. I'm too consumed with watching the stage. Effie stands by the microphone still, trying to hold some stability. Haymitch still has Peeta by the arm but his eyes are on me. Peeta is also watching me. But unlike Haymitch, his eyes are wide with surprise; his mouth is still hanging open. His head turns to Katniss but I'm too far away to hear what he says to her. She is frozen. She doesn't say a word. Whatever surprise had been on her face is gone now and she's a statue on stage. I can't tell if she's angry or in shock like she was last year.

One of the Peacekeepers runs over and nods his head once. Thread is not happy. He shoves me forward with a rough jab to my spine. I nearly trip but once I'm steady I walk confidently, or as confidently as I can, up to the stage. Thread and the other Peacekeepers leave me at the stairs, for which I'm thankful.

Katniss stands on my side of the stairs. When I pass her she whispers "thank you" just loud enough for me to hear. I pull her in close and wrap my arms around her back. "A lot changed while you were gone" I whisper back. If she understands what I meant then she doesn't let on.

Effie greets me at the stage with a hug, which I've never seen before in the history of the Games. "A volunteer!" she says, elated. "What is your name?"

"Briar Lore." No emotion.

"Well may the odds be ever in your favor." She squeezes my shoulder and I feel like she really means it. "Now… the Victors again." As I stand beside Effie, other members of the rebellion nod or smile in weak encouragement.

"Haymitch…"

Thank God.

"I volunteer."

Peeta steps forward. Effie's whole face drops. The reaction throughout District Twelve is the same. No one would have expected Peeta Mellark to volunteer to return to the Hunger Games, especially when Katniss is not. I catch Haymitch's gaze, begging him to do something. But there's nothing he can do. He shakes his head once and glares at the blonde boy as he takes his place beside me.

"Ladies and gentlemen… your tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games."

Three fingers on each right hand are raised. And then the doors behind us slam open and a crowd of Peacekeepers surround us. I panic, my eyes searching out for Uncle Tommy. I can't find him or Joel in the crowd. "I have to say goodbye" I say. But I'm in no way inclined to ask them for anything. I've made the Peacekeepers and the Hunger Games in general look foolish with my volunteering. I'm lucky they haven't killed me yet.

Peeta is calmer but that doesn't stop him from pushing one of the Peacekeepers away when he tries to force Peeta into the train. He shakes his arm free and walks up the steps unaccompanied. They release me as well because I've calmed down considerably. I haven't said another word, accepting that I'll die without saying goodbye to the only family I have. Haymitch follows on not a minute later.

As soon as the door closes, Haymitch turns on Peeta. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Peeta sits down on the chair beside mine and replies without hesitation, "You'll be a much better mentor than Katniss or I".

Haymitch covers his face with his hands and pulls at his hair. "So you volunteer yourself?" Peeta says nothing. Haymitch is furious and points a stern finger at him. There's something he wants to say but he doesn't. Instead he pivots and grabs a shot glass. Then, as a second thought, he switches the glass for a bottle and leaves the two of us alone.

"Thank you" Peeta says as soon as Haymitch is out of ear shot.

I don't know what to say to him. I shake my head. I'm a little angry that he did something so stupid. He doesn't realize it but he's sentenced me to death now. I have to switch my whole mindset now. I have to think defensively now. It'll be easier but that's not something I wanted to do.

I shake my head and just have to laugh. "Well this changes things."

Peeta smiles. "You had a plan?"

"Kind of." I don't want to say too much because this is a Capital train. Who knows who's watching.

"Thank you again. Katniss…"

"It's alright" I say and smile. "And you're welcome. But you don't need to thank me." For a moment we sit in silence. There's food on the table but I don't feel like eating. I try not to think about Joel and Uncle Tommy.

Haymitch comes back into the room. He's not stumbling yet but I can smell the alcohol from three feet away. He glares at Peeta, says nothing to me, and drops a CD in front of the two of us. Then he storms off, grumbling about stupid volunteers. I lift the CD and turn it in my hands. It shines like nothing I've ever seen before. It's so clean. This whole train is. There's no coal dust to be seen. I couldn't feel more alien here.

"That's has all the other tributes on it." I nod and hand it to Peeta to put in the player behind us. The wall ahead of us suddenly lights up with the seal of the Capital. And then the reapings begin. The first two I pay very close attention to. Cashmere and Rith from District One both look ready to kill. In fact, they seem almost eager to be back in the arena. Cashmere is gorgeous but there's a fire beneath her skin. She's going to be a threat. Rith is equally beautiful. He has dark hair and a chiseled face. He's older though. Maybe in his upper thirties. This would make any other tribute less of a threat but the Careers train hard. I'm sure he's still a killing machine. I try to memorize their faces.

Enobaria from District Two is going to be a problem. I remember hearing about her. She ripped another tribute's throat out with her teeth. Now, she has her teeth sharpened to do just that again. I hope someone else takes her out in the initial bloodbath but that doesn't seem likely.

After the first two districts I don't pay as much attention. A few of the tributes really stick out to me. One of which is Finnick from District Four. He's handsome. That's what first caught my eye. But then I noticed the look of relief when his name was called. It all clicks. He's protecting someone too. It may be foolish but my brain switches from seeing him as a threat to an ally. I think about mentioning this to Peeta but he's focused and there's no telling if Finnick will survive long enough to become an ally. There's plenty of time still for him to show his true colors.

Sig from Nine also catches my eye. And not in a good way. There's something about her. She has dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin. She seems furious, almost threatening the other Victors to volunteer with her eyes. I shiver and unfortunately, Peeta notices. "You…?"

I shake my head and keep my eyes on the reaping. I want to memorize this face. Thankfully, Peeta lets it go.

There's a woman from District Eleven that also catches my eye. Her name is Pear. She has dark skin and a mess of tiny curls falling down to her shoulders. She looks just like Rue from last year's Games if she had been twenty years older. Peeta beside me fidgets. He must recognize Rue in Pear as well. Before she gets on stage, a little boy, maybe three races forward. She looks about ready to cry. This must be her son. She scoops him up and kisses him before she's pulled up to the stage.

Thankfully our reaping starts a minute after that. I hated watching her tearful eyes. I couldn't imagine leaving my son. And I couldn't imagine seeing my mom reaped.

I'm very curious as to what they showed of our reaping. I'm waiting for them to show Katniss' name being called but they don't. They've cut and pieced together a whole new reaping. Both Peeta and I lean closer in shock. Now they play Haymitch's name being called first and Peeta volunteering. There's a somewhat awkward transition where the whole of us waiting to be reaped are shown. And then suddenly I'm volunteering. Without a name being called. It looks like I volunteered as soon as Peeta did.

"Of course" Peeta laughs dryly. "Of course they would edit the biggest display of defiance in the reapings." He shakes his head in anger. "I'm sorry. They shouldn't have done this. People should know what you did."

"If they're smart they can figure it out" I say. When he doesn't seem to understand I tell him to play ours again. "Now pause it" I say when he steps up to Effie. "There" I say. I stand and touch the very side of the screen where you can see a sliver of my arm and dress because I'm already on stage. He resumes the reaping and I have him pause it again. "Here too. When I'm walking up to the stage you can see that you aren't by the microphone. You're still back by Haymitch."

Peeta nods. "It's still…"

A train operator passes through and the conversation immediately drops.

"So… allies?"

I nod and shake his outstretched hand. His skin is softer than mine. His palm has callouses but they are from work, not from labor and cold. His hand is warm around mine and firm with confidence that shines from him every moment. "Absolutely."