Everything freezes and I see everything so clearly. My brother clinging to me, Leila screaming my name as she tears through the crowd, my mother in the back, collapsing into the arms of the other spectators. The boys around me stare at me with a mixture of relief and pity in their eyes. They have escaped the arena this year. I can't say the same.

And then something in my mind clicks and I've shifted gears.

I am in survival mode. I know what I need to do.

I grab Elias' arms, standing him up straight, "They'll let me see you before I leave. Go help mom. Now." Elias nods in understanding and gives my hand a squeeze before looking for our mother.

The other boys around me clear a path as I approach the stage, brightened with yards upon yards of fabric and carpeting to hide the eroding, sun-bleached stone platform and pillars. I hear Leila crying my name and the pain in her voice breaks my heart, but I don't look back at her. I'd lose my composure, I know it. I can't show any weakness. I've seen enough games to know that if you cry, the less likely you are to get any gifts in the arena. If you cry, you can come across as weak, and you may not get any help. And that's often the difference between life and death.

I get to the platform and take my place on the stage beside my fellow tributes. My competition. The lights are surprisingly bright and hot on me, overwhelming in the late summer heat. I see blinking red lights from the cameras positioned all around me. Valera spouts something out at me before heading back to the center of the stage. I squint my eyes to peer through the bright sun and light bulbs to see the crowd. A group of girls had held Leila back and were comforting her. Better that than have the peacekeepers handle her. Elias has reached my mother and she's clutching at his shirt like her life depends on it. Elias isn't crying anymore. He's already steeled himself to be our mother's crutch throughout the Games.

The mayor begins his long recitation of the Treaty of Treason. As if it matters. I suddenly find myself with a lot on my plate and hearing this Treaty for the sixteenth time is the last thing I care about. For the Capitol to claim that the Districts were at fault for starting a rebellion while simultaneously lining kids up for slaughter; it's a sick joke.

I instead think of my family. My mother is strong. But after losing my father, I don't know how she could manage losing a son. It was devastating for her to lose my father, but she had me and Elias to put her back together. She still missed him, but she carried on. But if she lost either myself or Elias, well, I just don't know if she could be put back together a second time. She can only handle so much.

Elias will have to dote on her from now on. He will have to reassure her throughout the Games. And if I die, he cannot mourn me. He has to care for our mother. As much as it pains me, he'll have to grow up fast. There's a lot to take care of. They'll still need food and money. I collected my share of oil and grain from my tesserae just the other day. It should hold them over throughout the Games. If I don't make it back, Elias may have to sign up for more tesserae himself , but maybe not, since there'll be one less mouth to feed.

I feel sick to my stomach that I'm even entertaining the idea that I might not come back, but I remind myself that it's now a very likely possibility; almost a certainty. With forty-seven other tributes in a deadly arena, I could very well be taken out within the first five minutes.

Then I think of Leila. My heart sinks. I never really allowed myself to think too far into the future for exactly this reason. I never thought too much of it. I didn't let myself. If you don't have any dreams, they can't be taken away from you. At least, that's what I thought.

But right now, I realize that I want to be with Leila forever. I want to marry her. I want wake up to see her in the morning. I want to come home from a long day of work and see her waiting for me with a smile in our own home. I want to see her with a round belly and I want to chase around our babies that will all be beautiful because they made from a part of her. In a split-second, I have all of these dreams. And just as quickly, they are ripped away, exactly as I had feared, and it tears away at me.

Invisibly, I mourn the loss of my future with Leila. And then I think of her, right now. My poor Leila. Surrounded by her friends who try to comfort her, she ignores them. Her face is marred with tears and she stares at me through them. She's probably feeling like I am right now. She's probably wondering if this is just a bad dream. She's probably staring me down to confirm that what she's seeing is real.

But her father reaches her in the crowd and she crumbles in his arms, her face disappearing into his chest, hiding from the harshness of the reality in front of her. He holds her and I can see him smoothing her hair, whispering in her ear. Watching them, it's as if Leila is a small child again, scared and defenseless. But I'm comforted knowing that at least she will not be alone. Her father will protect her now that I can't. And if I die...

Leila is still young. If I die, she'll get over it eventually. She'll just be another girl who lost her boyfriend to the Games. It's not uncommon. I've seen girls and boys alike at school crying over the reaping and eventual deaths of their loved ones. The older ones have already moved on and found other people, tired of mourning. And Leila is no exception; she will do the same.

The thought is unbearable, and the only good I can see in it is that she can at least have a happy future. If she can't have one with me, I'd rather she finds it with somebody else than live out her days alone. I imagine her in a house with a faceless man, smiling at him, giving him her kisses. I feel selfish, but I can't help the jealous pang that shoots through me.

Then the anthem booming through the speakers shakes me back into my new life. My life as a tribute. I steel myself for the cameras again. The anthem crashes to a close, the cameras waver for a moment longer and then I'm taken away.

I'm led into a lavish room and I'm left alone. I peek through the blinds and watch the square grow empty. The younger children high-tail it out of there, running straight to their parents or older siblings so they can be safe in their arms once again and led back home. The older ones stay near their friends, and they're probably briefly mentioning the tributes before making plans for the next day in an effort to forget that their lives could have been claimed today. A few clusters of people stay behind, the crumbling bodies of those who just lost their friend, their cousin, their classmate. But in the end, they have all evaded the Capitol's grasp today, and most of them don't know any of the tributes. They can watch the Games without having any stake in it. Unless, of course, they've placed their bets.

The gravity of my situation does not sink in any more than it did on stage. I can barely think of myself, either out of concern for my family or for fear of what I would imagine, I don't know. My mind finally races with thoughts of what the next few weeks would hold. By this time next week, I could be dead. But I don't think I could panic if I tried. I'm sure every kid in the districts has imagined how they would feel if they were selected, and I am no exception. I suppose I had always thought I would be terrified. But I don't feel anything anymore. My heart knows it won't be pounding for much longer, so it's making every moment count as it threatens to burst from my chest. But my brain can't, or won't, realize my mortality, my imminent death. It won't sink in.

The door swings open and my mother comes in. She presses her fingers to her lips, trying not to cry. She seems rooted to the floor, so I come over to her and hold her as she finally weeps. I run my hand up and down her back like I did late at night for months after my father died, when thoughts of him overwhelmed her and kept her from her bed. I whisper, "Mom, don't cry. I'll fight to come back."

I was hoping to comfort her, but my words have the opposite effect and she begins to sob. She knows I'll risk being killed. She knows I'll likely have to kill kids myself to survive. It's not as if she hadn't seen a few of her own students do the same over the years. Her situation is unique in that nearly every year since she's been a teacher, she watches a present or former die on the television. If it was enough to make her cry then, I fear what it will do to her now. She knows the conditions of the arenas and that since this year is a Quell, it's only that much more unpredictable. I feel stupid for saying anything, so I keep my mouth shut.

Eventually, my mother calms herself down enough to step back and put a hand on my cheek, "You know I'll always love you no matter what. Do… Do what you need to do."

I nod, "I love you too, mom. I'll try to find a way back home."

The peacekeepers let us know our time is up and my mother saves her tears as she gives me another long embrace, "I never wanted to have to let you go." The peacekeepers have to pull us apart. We shout our I-love-you's at each other until the peacekeepers take her away.

I hear her cry again behind the closed door. A moment later, Leila enters. Her eyes are red and puffy, but now she's composed. She gives me a hard, almost accusing look and says, "You have to come back to me, Haymitch."

"That's the plan."

She stands her ground. Neither of us is sure what to do. Both of us are afraid that as soon as she leaves this room, we'll have seen the last of each other, our future erased. But I know our time together is running short, so I go to her and brush a thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape her. She leans into my touch. I feel the warmth and smoothness of her skin on mine and I try hard to save it to memory. I don't want to forget how she feels.

The thought scares me, and I want nothing more than to run away with Leila right this minute, but it's too late to try. Where would we go, anyway? District 12 is a cage, a prison. So I do the next best thing. I sit us down in one of the dusty, plush couches, reach in my pocket and present Leila with my wooden token. Her eyes widen. She knows what it means to me. So when I plant it in her hand, she looks at me in confusion. I close her fingers around it and say, "Keep it. To remind you I'll come back. And when I do, if you'll let me, I'll marry you. I love you, Leila."

She's shocked for a moment, but then she starts to cry again. They aren't happy tears. She asks, "Why are you doing this?"

Now I'm the one who's shocked. I know we're young, but I was sure she would at least be somewhat happy. We love each other, after all, I know that much. "What do you mean?"

Leila rests her forehead on my chest and whimpers, "You know I love you. But you're making it that much harder to let you go if you don't come back."

I had intended for my proposal to be something to lift Leila's spirits and maybe even give me something to look forward to while I'm in the arena. But she could only see that the odds of us being together again are miserable. And I suppose she's right to think that way, for her sake. I can't blame her. But it hurts, nevertheless, that she'd ever want to let me go. It's selfish and stupid, I know, but at least while I'm still alive, I don't want to imagine that we wouldn't always be together.

Finally, she says, "I'll marry you. So you have to come back to me. Don't make me live without you."

I smile, "Now I've really got something to fight for." I pull her in for a kiss and suddenly I feel as if all is not lost. Sure, it's a long shot, but I don't even think about that. All I have to do is make it back home. It sounds easy when the goal of the challenge ahead is to marry the girl of my dreams.

Leila pulls away first and pulls a green ribbon from her hair, "Now that I have your token, I don't want you going into the arena without something from home. Something to remind you of what you've got to come back to."

She ties the ribbon around my wrist and kisses it. She blushes the way she does when she gets embarrassed and she smiles, "Now you can always carry a kiss from me with you."

I smile at the thick coat of cheese that covered her words. Sure, we were romantics, but we rarely got this sappy. But I suppose this is a special occasion. To cheer her up, I joke and point to my neck, "Could you put another one here?"

She actually laughs and I decide to store that to memory too. And she obliges, planting a soft kiss near my collarbone.

The peacekeepers come in announcing our time is up. We both seem to panic in this moment, but before I can say anything, Leila says, "No goodbyes. I'll see you again when you're a victor."

I say, "I'll think of you."

As she turns to leave, holding in the tears in her eyes, she playfully snaps, "You'd better!"

I remember how much I love her as the door closes, and I already miss her more than I can bear. I can hear her breaking down when the door opens again and Elias enters the room. His face is pale and he looks like he's about to be sick when he mutters, "It's weird being back in here."

That's right. He had been here to see off his best friend two years ago. The boy never made it back home.

He's a little shaky, so I sit him down. We sit in silence for a moment until he says, "You don't have to worry about us back at home. I'll take care of mom. We'll manage. You just worry about... Just stay focused in there. And win. I don't care what you have to do," his voice cracks, "just get home."

He curls up and clutches his sides. I rub his back and said, "It's okay, Eli."

He looks back up at me, his eyes red as he nearly shouts, "Why are you trying to be strong for me? Is it just me, or is this whole thing terrifying?"

I suppose he's right. It should be terrifying, but I don't want to think about it. I don't want to panic if I can help it. The Games have already begun, and there is no time to get upset when a camera could be around the corner. They could be filming this. They don't usually air the tribute's last meetings with people from home, but then again, this is a Quell. For all I know, they could have decided to bend the rules.

Elias shakes his head, "It's just not fair." He wipes his eyes and says, "You know, I always tease and pick fights with you. But I always looked up to you too. I mean, you're my big brother. And I don't say it enough, but I love you."

He should have said that we never say that to each other. We would never verbally come out and say that we loved each other. It was just that we always knew. But hearing him say it was the only thing that actually brought a tear to my eye all day. I say "Hey, I love you too, but what are you getting all serious for?"

Elias gives me a wry smile and we just hug each other so we won't see the other crying. I hear Elias sniff and I choke out, "You big crybaby."

Elias catches the break in my voice and says, "You're the crybaby."

After a moment he says, "You're the toughest, smartest guy I know. Maybe you can do it. Maybe you can make it back."

I want to believe him. But the arena itself can be incredibly dangerous. Poison, cold, wildlife, traps; they're all waiting to take the lives of tributes that aren't lost in bloodshed. And there are some kids from the other districts who train their whole lives for the Games. I could easily be wiped out if the Careers team up and hunt me down. But I remember my promise to Leila, and I make a mental note to size up my competition in the Capitol and plan a strategy for the arena.

I reply, "You know I'll try."

We part and we feel awkward as we wipe away our tears. And then I remember something that I use to ease the tension, "Oh yeah, Eli, I'm getting married."

Elias' eyebrows shoot up, "What?"

I smirk, "Well, yeah. After the Games."

Elias gives me a weak smile, "I'm glad." I can tell he doesn't want to be too happy for me. To get his hopes up knowing I could be dead next week isn't something he wants to do.

I say, "I forgot to mention it to Leila, but do you mind making sure this stays on the down low. I don't want any Capitol cameras at my wedding in the Victor's Village."

I see Elias is finally warmed up a little by this as says, "Sure thing. Although, you know mom. She'll want to announce it in the square. So will Leila."

"Well, I was hoping you'd stop them from doing that."

He grins, "I'd be honored."

The peacekeepers enter to take Elias away and I'm suddenly overwhelmed. My little brother. This could be the last time I see him. I grab his hands and I know the words are empty when I say them, but I'm so desperate to reassure him, to reassure myself when I shout, "I'll be back! I promise! I'll be back!"

He doesn't respond except with an iron-grip on my hands. The peacekeepers have to pry us apart.

And he's gone.

And then, so am I. More peacekeepers enter through another door and lead me through a maze of hallways until I'm in a car. We're split into two cars; the girls in one and the boys in the other. The boy doesn't say a word and neither do I. We arrive at the train station, which I've only seen in passing. Nobody can go near the trains or the tracks without authorization. Only peacekeepers and those who work to load coal and unload various shipments from the freight cars have that. And tributes, of course.

We board a sleek, silver train, unlike the rusty metal freights that usually pull in, which starts rolling as soon as we're inside. The other tributes wander off with Valera, but I stand at the door, staring through the window at District 12. The sun is just setting and I can see the dusty haze over the Seam. It may not be the greatest. I may have been hungry and lived in poverty my entire life. But it's still home.

I think of the people I've left behind. My family, as well as Leila and her father and maybe a few neighbors are probably gathering already to mourn my absence. I'm pretty sure most of them are convinced I won't be back. But as I see the lights flickering on in the houses as the sun blazes in an orange haze of clouds above the mountains, I'm determined to come back. I made a promise. And I'll be back to marry the girl I love. That's that.