Hi, everyone! Sorry, no update yesterday, but I was feeling rather under the weather by the time I got home from work. I hope you forgive me.

Shout out to NutsandVolts-thanks for reviewing!

Today's chapter's a little longer, hooray! But the next one is longer still, so I won't get too excited just yet.

4

By the time we arrive at the train station, which only takes a few minutes, the rain is falling steadily. The driver walks around to open the doors for Beetee and me and holds an umbrella over our heads as we step out. I'm not used to this kind of service, and it unnerves me a bit. But Beetee seems to take it all in stride, thanking the driver politely as we head towards the train platform, so I copy his example with a 'thank-you' of my own.

The tributes emerge from the car in front of ours, accompanied by Lucretia. I instantly pity them even more than I already had; any car ride with Lucretia, no matter how short, is an ordeal. A crowd of cameras swarms forward at the sight of the tributes. Torque's face is set in determination. He looks completely focused, as if he's working out his strategy at this very moment, and I don't want to be the one to pull him out of his thoughts. Deirdre is fidgeting nervously; she looks scared, but she also looks like she's trying very hard to hide it. Her eyes dart from one camera to the next, clearly wondering what she should be doing and how she should be presenting herself. Overcome with pity, it's my first instinct to get them on the train as soon as possible and away from the lights and the noise and the constant scrutiny.

"Can't we…?" I ask Beetee, and he looks puzzled for a moment as he tries to piece together what I'm asking. He's getting pretty good at finishing my unfinished sentences, but it's something we're still working on. Hopefully by the time we get it down to a flawless system, I'll be able to finish my own sentences again.

"Can't we…?" Beetee repeats, still trying to figure it out. "…Get them on the train?" I finish, pleased to have gotten it all out for myself. Beetee glances from me, standing opposite him, still under the umbrella, to the tributes, who are already surrounded by a crowd of reporters and camerapeople. In lieu of a response, Beetee pushes forward through the crowd, turns to face the cameras, gives them a winning smile, places his hands on Deirdre's shoulders and steers her up the steps onto the train without a single word of explanation to the camera crews, who are looking downcast. Torque turns to follow them and I immediately do the same. They're all hollering questions, asking for 'just one comment,' so, on sudden inspiration, I give them one.

"See you in the Capitol," I add over my shoulder, and all of a sudden the cameras are on me, Panem's newest victor, headed off to her first stint as a mentor.

Did I really just say that? I ask myself as Lucretia follows me onto the train, still sticking her head out, waving to the crowds and generally making a spectacle of herself. Beetee, standing a few feet away with the tributes, is chuckling.

"'See you in the Capitol'? I love it!" he laughs to himself, stopping only when he sees that no one else is laughing, sees the clueless expressions we're all wearing. "Well, I thought it was funny," he explains to no one in particular, before trailing off inaudibly like I usually do.

Both tributes look terrible, like trapped animals. They take a look at their surroundings—even in my terror of imminent death last year, I couldn't help being impressed by the unsurpassed luxury of the tribute train—but even their curiosity can't fully hide their fear and uncertainty. Lucretia deftly ignores this.

"I know, lovely isn't it? It must be such a change after your drab little district! Anyway, here you can do whatever you want. Everything here is for your enjoyment! I know, right? You'll have your own rooms, with plenty of nice clothes for you to choose from, and of course your own bathrooms…I suppose you'll want to freshen up a bit, before dinner? Just be back in an hour."

The tributes stand, paralyzed in amazement at Lucretia's utter cluelessness and fundamental lack of tact as she simpers at them, clearly trapped in the delusion that the tributes are overawed by this show of generosity on behalf of the Capitol and their speechlessness is merely due to the fact that they're currently asking themselves how they could be so lucky to have been chosen. Beetee and I are more used to Lucretia's cluelessness, but it still never fails to shock me at moments like this. Deirdre looks at me for confirmation, so I nod, and she turns and makes her way down the length of the train car. Torque hesitates a moment, then follows her.

I'm at a loss for what to do with myself, how to sort through the emotions of the day, what to do when I'm waiting for dinner, so I sink onto a velvet sofa and gaze blankly out the window. The scenery whips past in a blur. Lucretia mentions something about changing her dress and bustles off to her room; Beetee sits down beside me. We sit there, watching the landscape roll by outside the window for a while. Finally, I tear my eyes from the landscape to meet his. I sense he wants to talk, and after a little bit of quiet, I feel like I'm ready to listen.

"So?" he asks, and I find myself needing further explanation.

"What?" I ask, waiting for him to elaborate.

"How are you?" Beetee asks, and I know it's not just a conversation starter. There are more layers of meaning in this one question than anyone would suspect. He's concerned about me, about how I'm holding up. Part of me wishes he didn't think I was so fragile, that he didn't feel the need to protect me all the time, but another part of me is secretly grateful that I have someone so dependable in my corner.

"I'm…okay," I begin, but I can't lie to him. Not to Beetee. I can lie to the cameras and Lucretia because it's none of their business what I'm thinking anyway, and I can lie to my dad and Electra and Bolton because I want to protect them from the truth. But I can't lie to Beetee, because he understands me. Not many people do anymore.

"I can't look at them," I confess guiltily, like a mother admitting she can't love her own baby, and Beetee makes a sympathetic noise. "I can't look at them, and…and know what's going to…"

"I know, Wiress, but you can't let yourself think that way," Beetee advises. "Otherwise, you'll just give up, and if you and I give up, then those kids in there don't stand a chance."

"But what can we do to…?"

"To help them? We have to play to their strengths. And to do that, we have to find out everything we can about them—their strengths, their weaknesses, their fears, the people they're fighting for back home." Beetee raises his chin slightly, giving me a look that clearly shows that he's thought this little speech through. Maybe he practiced it in the mirror this morning. I wouldn't put it past him to do so. It's quite effective, and I think he knows it, because he's looking pretty smug.

"I just hope they have strengths," I say desperately, wondering what secret strengths our tributes could possibly have that could compensate for the murderous prowess of the Career Tributes.

"They do," Beetee insists.

"I didn't."

"Excuse me, you most certainly did. Best mind to come to the Hunger Games since what's-his-name…that fellow from Three, starts with a 'B', I think, who won a few years before you…"

I giggle unwillingly, because it strikes me anew that we shouldn't be joking with each other, not when we're faced with the near-impossible task of saving these poor kids' lives. I check myself mentally; I keep calling them 'kids,' but Torque's just a year younger than me, and Deirdre is the same age as my brother.

"Best be getting yourself ready for dinner," Beetee says suddenly, and I look up to see a number of Capitol servers making their way in, bearing dishes and platters and crystal decanters full of expensive wines and other drinks I don't recognize. Could an hour have gone by so fast? How long had I been staring out that window? Or does a Capitol-style meal just require that much time in advance to set up? These days, nothing would surprise me.

Lucretia's arrival is heralded by a cloud of cloying perfume that's so thick you can practically see it. She's changed into an elaborately beaded dress that rattles when she walks, complete with a matching wig. She smiles upon seeing Beetee and me. "Right on time, excellent!" she coos. "I do love to see mentors taking their job seriously! Now, where have those tributes gotten to?" And without waiting for either of us to answer her, she sweeps off in search of the tributes, rattling every step of the way.

Lucretia returns a moment later, this time accompanied by Torque and Deirdre. Torque's sneezing, probably from the perfumed haze emanating from his district escort. Deirdre's eyes are red. It looks like she's spent the past hour crying; her reaping dress is wrinkled, probably from throwing herself facedown on her bed in utter defeat.

The tributes settle themselves uncertainly into chairs at the table. They take one look at the Capitol servers as they set plate after plate of decadent food on the table. Torque moves the food around his plate with his fork; Deirdre merely pushes the plate away from her, looking ill.

"You should eat," I say, pushing it back toward her. Deirdre scowls at me, as if to ask who I am to insist that she eat, whether I even remember what it felt like to be condemned to death.

"I'm not hungry," she says flatly, toying with the tines on her fork. Torque nods silently, united with his district partner in their distrust, their feeling of being misunderstood, their sense of loss.

"You really need to eat," I insist, "because…if you can put on some weight…before the arena, I mean…it will…"

"It will really help," Beetee finishes, looking thoughtful. "Wiress is right; for the next few days, you'll be able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want, so it couldn't hurt to put on some extra weight before the Games begin, because food won't be so easy to come by in the arena."

The tributes exchange an undecipherable glance, then tentatively start in on the food on their plates. I feel an unexpected satisfaction as I shift my focus to my own plate—I feel like I've accomplished something. I got the tributes to eat. Okay, so maybe Beetee helped…maybe he did most of the work…I don't know, but I definitely started the conversation. That's something, right? It may not be a big deal, but maybe it's the first step in gaining their trust and finding a way to save one of them, like Beetee said.

Well, I hope you enjoyed today's update. Our next chapter features the recap of the reapings, some mentorly advice and the answer to a long-debated puzzle: just how did Wiress overcome her fear of the dark? And just who are our tributes up against this year, anyway?

I'm hoping to hear from you in your review! Right now, all I'm hearing is the ridiculously loud wind outside my windows.

All the best,

Delilah