The screams slowly diminished from a booming crescendo to a whimpering finale. Johanna's body tensed, not knowing if it was over, or merely entering a second act. But then, sometime later, she heard the swish of an opening door and the patter of exiting feet. Her breath quickened, listening to the direction of the strangers in the hall. However, the sound of the retreating footsteps petered off in a similar manner to the screams, until there was nothing but silence remaining.

Whatever pain her neighbor was in, it must have finally rendered him unconscious. Quietly, she reasoned that the alternative would have led to a louder, more chaotic aftermath. The clicking heels of a medic, the creaking wheels of a stretcher, and the hushed whispers of Peacekeepers. However, it had not ended in such a dramatic fashion. Which led her to conclude that this was not the ending, but merely the intermission.

Johanna had learned very early on that the smartest bet in any situation was always that it would somehow get worse. Be on guard, she told herself, be on guard at all times.

….

Jem turned 12 years old shortly after the conclusion of the 64th Hunger Games. True to his threats, he immediately took out enough tesserae for each member of his family. Johanna and her sister, Jess, squealed with joy when they saw the extra grain sitting on the kitchen table. Her mother's face paled considerably as she sat in her chair, looking down at the floor. Her father reddened and slammed his fists on the table. "And what will you do, boy?" he screamed, "What will you do if they pick you?"

Jem straightened and looked his father in the eye, "I'll train. I've got almost a year."

Johanna looked at her brother, scrawny and small yet full of bravado, and immediately admired him. Curiously, she followed him outside later that day, watching as he walked along the edge of the forest with a group of other boys. They finally stopped walking when they'd reached an abandoned spot north of the lumber yards. Once, long ago, it had been the site of a factory. But now it was a junkyard. The Capitol shuffled in equipment once every few years, mostly to improve the lumber trade. Since the Capitol did not want to shoulder the costs of moving the older equipment, which was often on its last legs anyway, it was moved to the junkyard. The more technically savvy townspeople occasionally scoured the junk yard at night, poaching any valuable parts they could find. However, most of the time, the junkyard remained empty, a neglected window to the past.

Whatever the boys planned to do, they didn't want an audience. Curious, Johanna followed them, hiding behind a tall tractor. Peering out from under the rusting tires, she saw the boys form a circle in the center of yard. A large boy called Tank moved into the center of the circle. Johanna did not like Tank. Just earlier in the week, she'd seen him snatch a loaf of bread from a little girl's hands. The girl had started to cry and, in response, he'd pushed her into a wall. She had no idea what her brother was doing here with Tank, but it couldn't be good.

"Before we start," Tank said to the group of boys, "I'm going to need my payment." Johanna watched the boys dig into their pockets. Each boy pulled out a coin and handed it to Tank. Johanna watched her brother hand him the coin, and wondered where the money had come from. Her father certainly would have never given it to him.

Once Tank had collected everyone's coins, he slipped them into a small burlap sack, which he threw underneath an abandoned truck.

"Alright then," Tank said, smiling to reveal his two front missing teeth, "Who wants to start?"

The boys looked nervously at one another. They were mostly like her brother, about half Tank's size and a quarter of his strength. After a few moments of deliberation, the boys seemed to have come to a conclusion, and her brother walked into the circle. Standing across from Tank, her brother appeared even more miniscule than usual. Tank stared blankly at him for a few minutes than, unceremoniously, he began pummeling him. Her brother, shocked, cried out as Tank punched him, attempting to crawl away only to be pulled back in again by Tank's monstrous arms. "Lesson #1," Tank yelled, over her brother's screams, "Never let your guard down."

Johanna, her blood curdling, couldn't sit still any longer. She crawled along the ground, strategically weaving herself through overturned cutting tables and abandoned furnaces until she found her way under the truck where Tank had hidden his burlap sack. She crawled underneath the metal body, until she discovered the sack. She pulled open the flap, examining the contents. The coins were all there, along with some pilfered cigars and a pack of matches. A plan formulated. She resealed the flap and dragged the sack alongside side her as she crawled out from beneath the truck.

Her brother was lying on the ground, blood streaming between his lips. Tank circled him slowly, directing his attention to the other boys. "Lesson #2, if your opponent is down, make sure he stays down." And, with that, Tank swiftly kicked her brother in the ribs.

Johanna pulled the matches from the sack and lit one against the box. The noise attracted the attention of several boys, who turned to see her holding the match, the orange flame shooting up.

"Look over here you big, ugly Mutt!" Johanna called out.

Tank froze mid kick and spun around to see Johanna holding the flame close to the bottom of the burlap sack.

"Stop what you're doing right now," she hissed, "Or I light it."

"Lesson over," Tank screamed at the remaining boys, who immediately scattered out of the junk yard. Tank looked down at her brother, who was squirming in pain. "Pathetic," he laughed, spitting on him, "You wouldn't make it past the Cornucopia."

He gestured towards Johanna, "My bag?"

Johanna passed it over, tossing the match in the dirt.

"I should beat you to a pulp for what you've down," Tank said to her, "but I won't, not this time." Johanna nodded, pushing past him to kneel beside her brother.

"Now see her," Tank said to her brother, pointing at Johanna, "That's who I'd be putting my money on."

…

Johanna waited by Jem's bedside until he woke up. The Healer had spent hours on him, resetting the dislocated bones and tending to the various cuts, bruises and gashes. He'd been out cold for two days. And Johanna had waited.

36 hours later her brother's eyes finally fluttered open. Johanna was dozing off in her chair, but the sound of her brother's voice woke her.

"Johanna?" he whispered.

"Hi," she replied, sitting up in the chair, "How do you feel?"

"How bad do I look?" he asked.

Johanna surveyed the bruised and bloodied face. He would never be the same again. Even now, his voice was shaky, lacking confidence. He was broken, Johanna knew, in more ways than one.

"Promise me you won't do that again," she said, "Promise me."

"And what if I do get picked for the Games?" he replied, "How will I defend myself?"

"We'll train together," she said, the thought suddenly occurring to her, "You and me, no one else."

He thought about it. "Okay," he said. "Okay, you and me."

…

She could hear the faint sound of footsteps in the hall.