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Breakfast might've been like the Hunger Games itself, given that all 24 of us tributes were unleashed into one gigantic cafeteria, with enough tables that no one would've had to sit together, if they didn't want to. Given that there was forks, knives, and other such implements which could cause death, about a dozen Peacekeepers lined the room at certain intervals. I couldn't help but think…if they were that concerned with a fight or worse breaking out, why did they release all of us in here at once?

The social fish bowl that we'd all become consisted three main groups.

One was a table seven individuals, by the looks on their faces, whether they be superior, menacing, sneaky, or self-assured, it was all too clear that they were the Careers, hear them roar.

There were four girls, and three of them were good looking…one or maybe two even might've qualified as beautiful. If these girls were the ones Farah was concerned about me aligning myself with, I figured what's the damn point? The remaining girl, who I'm sure was taller than me and close to six foot if she wasn't already, was a brute, with a mean-looking face. She wasn't disgustingly muscular or anything like that, but she, and one of the apish men she shared a table with, looked capable of murder at any given moment.

An attractive black girl with short hair had a steeled, untrustworthy look about her as she ate with focus, but laughed as a particularly rat like, crass-looking kid with blondish-brown hair was cracking some kind of joke. They both looked equally lethal, just not in such an immediate and overpowering way. Seated next to the pretty black gal, was yet another good looking girl, not quite as beautiful as the strawberry blonde who I was relatively sure looked in my direction, but who laughed like the cameras were always on her. This dark haired, dark eyed, olive skinned girl seemed to ooze sex and lascivious thoughts. Her female companions seemed tricky, distant, or near bestial, respectively.

Rounding out the Careers was a tall, athletic looking guy with longer hair, sitting near the perimeter of the rest, but looking highly capable. I noticed, though I was trying not to look their way and risk having one catch me, that the longer haired fellow never laughed. Not a chuckle, not a crack of a smile—nothing. He, along with the guy who seemed to be the class clown, or the tower of muscle who'd laughed the loudest, all looked formidable. It was not rocket science what they were doing here. They were letting the rest of us know just who they were, and challenging us to try and stop them.

The worst of it was…Career tributes won the Hunger Games just as often as non-Careers. The odds were already in their favor, the deck already stacked. Traditionally, Districts One, Two, and Four all fell into this category. If they were true to form, that would account for six people. Still, there was a seventh…an extra girl, at the very least.

Some nervous-looking long faced kid who was extremely unfortunate looking, took his breakfast at an adjoining table. He had bigger balls than the rest of us, as everyone else was giving the Careers a wide berth. At least three empty tables separated their clique from anyone else, save that long faced guy.

The second group would've been the one that Farah and I fell into. We sat at the same table, and were from the same district. We conversed, albeit slowly and softly, no one wanting to say anything too loudly and have it misconstrued or worse, taken as an insult by the Careers. That accounted for roughly the second third of us.

Finally there were quite a few of us eating alone. Some, like the ugly kid with the long face who seemed to be pushing his luck by the Careers, ate at a table all by themselves. Others may have occupied the same table, but were clearly not speaking; just minding their own businesses as they plodded through breakfast.

Nearest to our own table, two young kids, a boy and a girl, were talking easily back and forth. Occasionally I could make out a word here or there, but nothing distinct. The boy was entirely unremarkable, and the girl would have been too, if it weren't for her red hair. It must've fallen to her waist, and even if she was speaking quietly and certainly only concerning herself with her young companion, that hair was difficult to miss.

Also within near spitting distance, would've been an ugly pock-marked dishwater blonde, who had been drawing what looked like oatmeal into her mouth in long, belabored spoonfuls. Sitting at her same table, but on the opposite side and with plenty of room between them, was a shorter and compact but strong looking dark-skinned kid. I say kid because while I could not be entirely sure, he seemed younger than me.

Farah looked herself, or her new self anyway, actually wearing nondescript athletic ware. For once she was not decked out in black, instead wearing mostly gray, white, and there was a bit of purple on her pants. Those cat eyes of hers were begging me for my opinion of our fellow tributes at first sight, but this was a much too dangerous place to try and be candid.

"Maybe they'll have a hairstyling session." I tried, lips curving into a forecasted smile. "You can give that tall girl over there a makeover." It would've been perhaps more appropriate to say such a thing about the crater face slurping her oatmeal, but I knew the giantess I'd meant, was a Career. Reason enough.

Although it seemed she was trying not to, Farah let out a soft gasp of a chuckle, shaking her head willfully. She spoke down at her half eaten wedge of cantaloupe, "You are such an idiot." Before breakfast I was under the impression that we weren't going to act like we knew or cared about the other in any way, but Farah had retooled this strategy. She had cited that our attempt to not look like we were allies, would be too transparent, and the Careers might notice. There was certainly something to be said for that, but I wasn't so sure the Careers were looking at any of us. Maybe one or two of them, but they were obviously not caring if anyone knew who belonged to their group.

Soon enough, everyone had finished eating, and just as the biggest, most muscled Career had been shouting to gain the attention of some guy sitting on the opposite side of the room, an older woman and man who were obviously from the Capitol, notified us that we would begin our training and physical activity time. Now even the Careers had shut the hell up, and all two dozen of us eventually began following them. All of this was done under the inspection and presence of the Peacekeepers. I kept secretly hoping that one of the Careers would try and pull something, and get themselves killed for being disobedient or aggressive in the process. No such luck.

Eventually we all separated, and by the time I was brought out into a sizable outdoor area with manicured hedge rows, plants, and grass around what looked like a miniature running track, I had to believe that all my fellow tributes were afforded similar areas. It had been explained to me then that this time was my own to do as I saw fit…but I needed to know that none of my activities could be monitored by any of my competitors. No further explanation was given. I took the opportunity to begin walking. I wasn't going to run full-out, who knew just what might be coming up next? As I walked around the smallish track that might have been about fifty yards long, I could see the tower where my sleeping quarters were. Amazing how fresh the air smelled here…crisp even. With all of the people, I might have thought the Capitol would smell polluted, but that was not the case at all.

Just when I had felt as though I'd sufficiently walked a decent distance and I was starting to question the point of this endeavor, out came Roman, looking snappily dressed as ever. Even if he was not in a suit jacket and tie, his curly hair was perfectly placed, white as always, and he'd given me a half-knowing smile as he'd sidled up.

"Don't want to impress yourself too soon, I see." He cracked.

I laughed, unable to help myself. "So…what, we're supposed to be pushing ourselves to the limits here? Run a marathon? Do jumping jacks? Back handsprings, perhaps?"

"Yeah? Lemme see one." He teased me, nonplussed by my sarcastic and mildly annoyed expression. "It's just some outdoor time to do whatever you want to. In a bit they'll be taking you all down to the Training Center gymnasium. There's going to be lots of obstacle courses and things like that down there. Today and tomorrow you'll be able to get some one-on-one time from the experts."

"And everyone'll be able to see me, right?"

"Yep."

"Ok…" feeling relatively safe enough to be candid, "so I might not want to perform at my best, in case someone's looking over my shoulder."

Roman's lips pulled back and his handsome smile showed itself for me. "It's pretty big down there. But yes, if someone wanted to, they'd be able to see what it is you're up to. What stations you visit is entirely up to you, but I think it would be wise to try and see just where your strengths lie. I know you've got some of the instincts. But, like it or not," his expression told me that I didn't need to interject what I might've wanted to, "You are going to have to kill or be killed in the arena. Not all of the stations have to do with weapons training, though as you're not too sure what you're good on…I think that might be a terrific place to start. If you find something that you like, or have an aptitude with, stick with it. You won't be awarded points for creativity. Killing all your opponents the same way, gets the same result."

He continued with, "I also saw some of the other tributes…I think it's a pretty serious field this year. Maybe two or three total losers in the bunch, but reminds me of the people I got stuck with. Could play to your advantage though. Everyone's going to be looking for allies, and once the Games start, people might get cocky, and do something stupid."

Though I wasn't going to admit it to him, I was growing ever more impressed with Mister Furyk. Not only did he have a relaxing, easy going sense of humor, he really seemed to know his stuff. I couldn't help but wonder if Cecelia was being as thorough with Farah. "Yeah, wouldn't that be nice."

Roman's hand went to give my shoulder a half pat-squeeze, "Oh trust me. People are going to do something stupid. It's just a matter of how stupid, when, and where you are when it happens. Now I won't be seeing you until tomorrow evening, so if there's any questions you've got, now might be the time."

My face might have gone white, as I felt under prepared. I didn't have a litany of topics to ask my mentor. "When do the Hunger Games actually start?"

"Three days from now. Meaning you've got today, tomorrow, the next day…and then the Games. Really your time to train and practice boils down to today and tomorrow. Tomorrow you'll still have some time, but in the evening, you'll be meeting with the Gamemakers privately so they can assess you."

"Sounds awesome." I spat with heavy sarcasm.

"That's the spirit!" he urged me back with equal sarcasm. "Listen, the Gamekeepers scores don't really even matter. People who are betting, sure. But a low score can be just as effective as a high one. It all depends on who you're getting into the arena with. Just be yourself, you'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say…"

"Hey, I've been through this, remember?"

There was no complaint that I could come back with just then that wouldn't have made me seem like I was a whiny little brat, so I left Roman's statement stand.

"Don't worry too much about the other tributes seeing you in the Training Center. Even if they might want to look, trust me, they'll be way too preoccupied trying to hone up on their own skills. Today and tomorrow you'll have access, and it is for your benefit."

"Ok. Well, so uh…have fun doing whatever it is you'll be doing."

"Oh yes, great fun." He shook his head. "Except for the whole having to fight for your life at the end of it part, trust me you got the better end of the deal." As much and in as many different ways as I would've liked to dislike Roman, or think him a bad guy, I just couldn't. I didn't know if it was by design, but it seemed like every time I spoke with him now, I was feeling more at ease. Maybe I really would do alright during these Hunger Games. No…I was going to kick everyone's ass…I was going to win.

I watched Roman head off, and with a renewed sense of purpose, I started picking up my speed around the miniaturized track. Soon I was jogging. I needed to try and be in the absolute best shape of my life. After all, it was what was hanging in the balance.


By the time that I was riding the elevator back to my room, I was a bit sore and had developed a couple of bruises from the Training Center. I discovered that yes indeed I could still throw a knife, and use one well-enough. The knife is sort of the catch-all weapon in the Hunger Games. They are usually in decent supply, and can be useful as well as lethal. The biggest downside to having a knife is that when faced off against another weapon, be it a spear, sword, axe, or bow and arrow…it usually would lose. I'd certainly seen plenty of tributes killed with a knife, only an idiot would discount them as weak weapons. Probably good for taking out lesser prey, if given the opportunity, but I could not expect to be slaying any armed Careers with one.

They'd had a gun station, where I donned protective headphones and shot at a variety of targets. Not as good as the last time Dad and I had gone shooting, but it probably had to do with my nerves. Unlike knives, guns were very rarely given to tributes and if so, ammunition was usually extremely limited. So much so that relying on it as your chief means of defense was more of a hindrance than a help. Would they have given us guns for training, if there wasn't going to be at least one? Seemed like sound reasoning, but my skepticism rarely left me for long—especially when dealing with the Capitol. All of this was a game, right? As such, seemed like a clever Gamemaker or two might have put firearms in the Training Center just to screw with us.

Things that did not deal directly with how I performed at the various stations in the Training Center had happened, and it was these things which I found more important right now. I had been approached by a tall, steady looking guy who I was relatively sure was older than me, named Knox. I hadn't seen him much before, I knew he was not one of the Careers. This point was driven home, when he'd said that he wanted to get together another group of us to move against the Careers. Fight fire with fire, he had said. His sales pitch was short, and sweet. Just how I liked it.

On the surface, forming a group of Anti-Careers to take out the Careers seemed like an ideal solution to the problem. There were plenty of reasons to give a person pause, but chiefly may have been that the Careers were trained in this. When the shit hit the fan, they were going to stay calm and collected, at least that's what I had to operate on the belief of. Knox had seemed to gain a couple of devout followers already, but fortunately for me he'd asked me late, and so I had been able to sound positive about the idea, without having to give a definitive answer.

I knew that Knox was from District 9, because in the Training Center our district numbers had been pinned to whatever it was that we were wearing. That in of itself was extremely encouraging. Eight and Nine had some real similarities, not to mention the geography. Today really was opening my eyes to that. There weren't many stereotypes that got dissolved in the course of the afternoon.

The tributes from Eleven and Twelve seemed liked simple minded bumpkins, same could've been said for the people from Ten, except that both of them appeared to have a more aware glint in their eyes. The tributes from Four had great tans, though the rat-faced kid who was from there dispelled the myth that everyone from Four was good looking.

The delegation from Three and Six seemed a bit on the brainy side, all of them…which fit in perfectly with what most of Panem would expect.

I discovered the tall Amazonian girl was from District Two, but her partner wasn't the huge towering guy—he was from One. It had been the longer-haired guy who seemed very serious and never cracked a smile, that was from Two. I believe that he scared me the most. He seemed quiet but deadly. Unlike the gorgeous girl from One, or her intimidating fellow tribute, or anyone else in the Career bunch, I couldn't seem to put a label on the guy from Two.

Turns out that the cute but turncoat black girl was from District Seven. She'd obviously thrown in her lot with the Careers, as she was only speaking with them. The ugly, long faced guy who had eaten breakfast near the table of Careers was her partner, from Seven. If he was with them, he definitely seemed to be the lowest man on the totem pole. If he wasn't, then all bets on him were off, but he seemed to be orbiting around the group of Careers all day. Although they ignored him, it seemed he was tolerated. I had to assume that he was smart enough to see that even being drug along by the Careers, was a smart move. Any time you can ensure that you won't be killed on sight, is great.

A group of Eight Careers? That was daunting to say the very least. Even if they were all going to slaughter one another at some point, with those kinds of numbers, they wouldn't have to until the rest of us were dead. That fact made Knox's offer all the more logical. I would not say that it was enticing, because it really wasn't, but if there was going to be a pack of eight Careers, that left 16 of us.

Though I'd have to speak with him later for confirmation, I was pretty sure that Knox wanted to get everyone else rallied against the Careers. Problem was that some kids seemed hell bent on going it alone, at least this was my perception. Daisy, Knox's own district-mate, had seemed a bit squirrelly and tense as she stood nearby, while Knox Halverting filled me in on his master plan. In theory, it absolutely sounded great. I was far too much of a pessimist, to simply accept things were going to be as they seemed. While I hadn't said anything to any of the Careers, chances were that sooner or later someone was going to squeal on Knox and his plan, or they'd figure it out themselves.

This put a tremendous target on Knox's back. It sucked, because I genuinely liked the guy. I couldn't say just what it was about him, but he seemed like someone I'd want to talk to in my regular everyday life. As soon as the Careers caught wind of his plan, he was undoubtedly public enemy number one, in their eyes. I couldn't blame Daisy for looking a bit hesitant. Knox was making big moves, and by the simple fact that they belonged to the same district, she was going to get thrown in with him, whether she liked it or not.

Aside from all of this information I'd found out, or at least believed I'd found out, Farah had barely spoken to me after breakfast. This was part of our plan, granted. But I hadn't seen her speaking with too much of anyone down in the Training Center. I was sure I had caught her speaking to the pretty brunette from Six near the trap-making station, but I did not know what that meant, if anything. Roman wasn't around, and that bothered me as well. It was good to have a sounding board when feeling overwhelmed like I was presently. I'd even take Jarvis, because the least he could do was look impassive as I vocalized some of my thoughts.

I had knocked on Farah's door, but got no answer. What the hell was going on? As I took a shower and rinsed off the sweat and grime that had accumulated throughout the day of physical activity, I couldn't stop my thoughts from reeling around.

Had Farah's sincerity all been some kind of ploy? She'd milked me for all the information she possibly could, and was now running her own agenda? This thought settled in my stomach like a rock. The sweet, clean scent of the soap on my body and the conditioner I was letting set in my hair as I stood outside the radius of the shower's spray, suddenly made me feel like I was going to puke.

Fortunately, apart from having push-button nearly everything, the shower a small built in recess to the wall where you could sit. I did so, and tried to stop the feeling that my intestines were being marched on by ants. The feeling just sat there, pulsating and wanting to turn me inside out. If I could vomit, maybe I'd get rid of that feeling but I'd never been someone who could throw up very easily. I knew that I shouldn't be this panicky, or I'd never be able to survive in the actual Games. Several times Farah and I had looked at each other, and there was something different about how she was looking at me. I didn't want to feel like this…not at all, but I was having this slow and steady dread that she'd played me for a fool, and had no intention of being my partner.

No…I was overreacting. All she was doing, was precisely what we'd agreed upon yesterday. Not behave in front of the other tributes like were as much of a team as we truly were. Once I got back under the warmth of the shower's stream, I allowed myself to relax a bit more.

"Get a grip." I told the shower around me, as I rinsed out my conditioner. If it was going to be like that, some small part of wished we could dispense with all these pre-game rituals, and just toss us all in a room with some knives and guns. The cafeteria would do fine. Get it done and over with.

No, I knew that the quicker the 63rd Games actually began, the closer I was to my own death. When I relaxed a little, I knew that I wanted to put off the Games for as long as possible. It was like trying to outrun a train…you were never going to succeed. I couldn't outrun the Hunger Games. As soon as Jarvis had pulled my stupid name from that stupid container, that was it.

Even after my shower I knew that for the very first time since being in the Capitol, I didn't have anything scheduled. I could go anywhere I was allowed, do whatever tickled my fancy. Standing in the hallway I thought about going to knock on Farah's door once more, but I didn't want to give myself the opportunity to be let down again. Instead I called the elevator, and faced with the long list of floors, realized that I had absolutely no idea where I wanted to go. I just needed to go somewhere.

Before I entirely realized just where I was going, the doors were emptying back out into the sub level far below the tower, where the training gymnasium was. The walls down here were concrete and so thick, as I stepped out I was encased in the sounds of silence. Rounding the corner, I heard voices so, I strained my ears. Soon enough I was eavesdropping on one of my competitors, speaking with one of the Peacekeepers still stationed by the gymnasium.

"I'm sorry, no tributes are permitted here after 4:15, miss. You were informed of this." The Peacekeeper was saying in a strong, but not overpowering way.

"I think I left something of mine in there. It's really important." The brunette was saying.

"Then it'll be there tomorrow. We have no interest in pilfering items from the tributes, trust me. You're free to wait around if you'd like, but the answer isn't going to change. After 4:15, no tributes allowed, no exceptions."

Suddenly aware of my presence, I ran back around the corner, heart thudding in my ears, as I tried to look completely casual, calm, and pick up the usual gait of walking. When the female tribute rounded the corner, she stopped short, and gave me a look with one raised eyebrow, and some suspicion in her eyes. She had a small nose and a nice curve to her lips, but had disquiet light blue eyes. Her longer hair was braided down and away from her face, terminating somewhere out of sight along her back side. I knew she wasn't one of the Careers, but why hadn't I noticed her before?

"You make a habit of listening to peoples conversations?" she tossed at me a bit willfully. It was an accusation, a correct one at that, but she was still waiting for an answer, not just pushing past me.

"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about." I managed with a look of true confusion on my face, or at least I hoped that's how it was being conveyed to her. Sidestepping, I followed through with the lie and continued on my way towards the gymnasium.

"It's closed." Came the blue-eyed girls' voice right after me, distrust still in her eyes, but she was obviously trying to size me up. Whether or not I doing precisely what I had been, or perhaps if I was any kind of threat. Who knew just what she was thinking.

"I thought we could go anywhere." I tried.

"Yeah, except Atalya told us that we wouldn't be permitted back in the gymnasium after quarter-past-four. I forgot too, so don't worry."

"That sucks." It was good that she looked suspicious of me, I would be more worried if she had played as though the thought hadn't crossed her mind at all that I could've been spying or eavesdropping. Not knowing what was happening with Farah, I was trying not to grow paranoid but given the circumstance, it wasn't the easiest.

The girl said, "We've got tomorrow, too."

I made this concession with a small nod, "I feel like I could use a week, though. A month would be better."

She didn't smile, but I could tell that whatever I was doing to her, I wasn't putting her on the defensive. "I know, right? I think I managed a few things ok, at the very least."

"Yeah, me too. Pretty nerve wracking though. We've only got two days to try and defend ourselves, until they put us all in the tiger cage."

"Yeah," Miss blue eyes said, "except we're the tigers."

There was something poetic and knowledgeable about the manner in which she'd said that, and I certainly could not help but pick up on it. I could only hope there wouldn't be actual tigers in the arena.

"I suppose you're right about that. I'm Herod, I'm from District Eight."

"Wren. Six." The girl said succinctly, though even at first glance I had to admit her name suited her somehow. "Herod, I've never heard that name before."

"Me either. My parents liked it." I shrugged my shoulders.

Wren seemed to be debating on telling me something or other, but it wasn't until I opened my own mouth to say something, that she decided to go ahead.

"You're with that quiet girl, right? Black hair, kind of down over her face?"

Now was the time, there wasn't any going back after this. Then again, maybe there was. All day I had been pretty good at giving non-committal answers, why stop now? "Farah is her name, yeah, from my district."

"She's kind of odd." Wren observed.

"Can't argue with you there. She seems pretty alright to me though, maybe a little bizarre." I tried my best to hide my nervousness. Anything I said about Farah and I might get to other people now, there was no promise that Wren was not going to give up this information to anyone else. She could even lie—who would know, except Farah and myself. I did not want to acknowledge the fact that I was all but certain I had seen Farah and Wren speaking in the gymnasium earlier this afternoon.

Wren said, "I've never been to District Eight. Just to Six, One, and here."

I wanted to ask just how she might've ended up in District One, but if memory served, it wasn't too far removed from Six. "It's alright. Eight's sort of dirty sometimes, but there are parts that are alright. I don't know much about Six. You guys work on transportation, I know."

"And medicine." Wren explained. "Six used to be all about medicine, but now only about a third of our population is still involved with science and medicine. Guess the Capitol decided that it would be more cost effective to farm out the engineering and transportation to us, eh?" Continuing, she said, "Well you two seem nice enough," flashing me just a little bit of a smile. "I was talking to Arko about the two of you. He's the guy with the glasses? Of everyone we've met so far, seems like you two are the most genuine. I'm not trying to say anything here really, just that you and Farah seem nice. I hope you do well."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was all set to defend myself and worry, and now the guy with the glasses and Wren here, from District Six said that they liked us!

"Yeah, I know what you mean." I took a stab at it. "It's like, if you even talk to someone, everyone's going to think you're allies, and have each other's backs to the end. Everyone's afraid to be civil."

Wren's blue eyes shone a bit in the lighting. They were the quickest, sharpest thing about her. Her features were pretty and feminine, her hair braided back like that was even unassuming. Still I knew she was very intelligent. It was just something about the way she carried herself. "Exactly. Though I don't think any of us want to see the Careers win." She glanced over her shoulder, and perhaps with good reason. We were in an open hallway, but at the same time…there weren't many places for someone to hide. In the tower, by our plush rooms, who knew where someone might overhear. "That guy from Nine…"

"Knox." I came out with. I figured I had more to lose by playing dumb, than being honest at the moment.

"Right, Knox. He wants to get everyone together against the Careers." She seemed to be chewing the inside of her cheek, and I noticed just how cute that made Wren appear. I wondered just how old she was, but now wasn't the time. I might have accidentally landed into an alliance here, tenuous as it may be, I didn't want to ruin it.

"Seems risky." I admitted. Wren seemed to be more of my same mind, cautious, so I didn't see the harm in it. "If they find out he's doing it, they'll want to kill him and anyone he talked to."

"Yeah, but they'll want to kill everyone, anyway. Arko pretty much already told him that we're with him." The pretty girl before me gave out a soft sigh. "I've decided that for better or worse, I guess we ought to try and do it. The guys from Five and Twelve seem on board. I don't know yet about Ten or Eleven. Really though, it's probably just because I'm stuck with it now whether I like it or not," and we both shared a chuckle, "but the more I think of it the more sense it's making to me. Every year the Careers join up, and slaughter most everyone they can."

The more I spoke with this blue eyed beauty, the more I was liking her. I tried my best not to notice the gloss on her lips, or the fact that she seemed to be a little shorter than me. "Right, well all of them volunteered. That's the difference." I said, knowing I was right. "Knox had said that. They're playing to win. The rest of us are playing to not lose." I got a small shiver as Knox's words reverberated through the hallway, even if he wasn't here. That kid had leadership potential, and what's more, I think Knox realized it.

Looking into my eyes, I couldn't be sure, but I was thinking that Wren felt a connection to me as well. "Precisely." She turned her head to lightly cough. "Arko is more impulsive than I am, but…it isn't as though we have so many more appealing options at the moment. My parents," her voice wavered slightly, "are both in the medical field. I know how to address and treat wounds. I can't promise that there'll be anything out there to work with, but I can offer that much."

I tried not to look too excited, as she impressed me more…not only as a girl, but as an ally. "Better than me. All I can do is try and follow orders, and not get my ass killed."

"Well, if nothing else you're another person on our side." Wren explained.

She was right of course, but it had me questioning just what sort of skills I did add to the table. I certainly was not going to be as invaluable as Wren, if she knew how to treat wounds.

I couldn't help myself from smiling at Wren. Not only had she said just about every thing I could have hoped for her to say, she was smart, and very pretty. Surely she had a boyfriend back in District Six, I didn't even need to question that. Girls like her never went long without a boyfriend, they just couldn't help it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

"Oh." I shook my head with a bit of a smile and said, "Nothing, really. Just that we probably should be getting back to our rooms. I need to check and see if Farah is back."

As it turned out, we rode the elevator back up together, and I discovered that Wren was 16. She had wished me happy belated birthday, upon discovering that I had just passed the 17-year mark. She was incredibly easy to talk to. Was I really lucky enough to have such a seemingly perfect girl as an ally? Maybe she had some huge gaping flaw, but whatever it might be, I sure couldn't see it. As she'd departed on the sixth floor, and I rode up the two extra floors alone, I realized the only possibility would be that she's a tremendous liar. She certainly came across more sincere than Farah, even. Was that Wren's problem? She was such a gifted actress? My gut told me no…but considering that any of these tributes could be pumping me for information, or feeding me lies, made it difficult to trust my gut.

Farah didn't seem to be back in her room once again, not even after three bouts of knocking. I leaned in and tried to decipher if any sound was coming from her suite, like a shower running perhaps, but I got nothing. Obviously she was sleeping soundly, or busy doing something elsewhere that had nothing to do with me. What is it that she could possibly be doing?

Eventually I was forced to return to my own room, from lack of places to go, and people to see. I was not allowed, or whatever the reason was, to see Roman until tomorrow night. Farah was off doing who-knows-what, so I had nothing to do but sit on my new-found excitement after talking with Wren.

Once within the confines of my quarters, it was much easier—surprisingly, to relax and forget about all the tumult of the Hunger Games. I listened to music, I even checked out the television, though as the only thing running was the government's special on me and my competitors. It wasn't available to us. The Capitol did want it to be fair…even if the circumstances of what placed all two dozen of us in that arena, were frightfully unfair.

While at first I'd selected music that I enjoyed, eventually I picked some light classical, played at a low level and the effect was very calming. I'd looked out the windows, seeing the bustling Capitol buzz around me like bees in an active hive. Going to rest on some of the furniture, I'd left the shade wide open, but even with the copious light coming in, I was growing sleepier and sleepier. Eventually, I dozed.

Later that evening I had awoken, dazed to realize just how long of an accidental nap I had taken. Finding a note that she'd left for me under my door, I'd gone and spoken with Farah. She seemed concerned about us joining up with Knox and his seemingly growing army of anti-Careers. Apparently she'd found a good spot to 'clear her head' up on the roof of the tower. Heights didn't bother me exactly, it might be a good vantage point to look out at the Capitol, but she also told me that some of the Careers came up to enjoy the view. Apparently they'd completely ignored her, except for the biggest, most apish looking one from District One asking her how it was going.

Apparently Farah had just given him a small nod, and took her leave from the roof altogether. Probably the smartest course of action, and none of the Careers had said anything snide to her in departure. That surprised me.

"Do you know what you're going to do for the Gamemakers?" Farah asked me pointedly, seeming more nervous than I'd ever remembered seeing her before.

Shrugging I had to say, "Not really."

"Motum was saying that—" Farah paused, clearly seeing the look on my face. "The guy from Five? He's got short dark hair, he's with that little blonde girl."

Alright, so the guy who looked Asian must've been named Motum. I had definitely learned that the blonde from District Five, the same girl who had the light-up dress at the opening ceremony, was named Lurie. She had thrown me the briefest of smiles earlier today, so I'd gone ahead and returned it. Not only was it stupid to make enemies, but Lurie seemed genuinely nice. Hopelessly out of her league with all of this Hunger Games stuff, even more-so than myself, but still was among the most pleasant of anyone I'd come across. Seemed wrong that a nice girl like that, who couldn't have been more than 12 or 13, was to be killed. I couldn't allow myself to think like that. Who's to say what Lurie could or could not do. Yes it was terrible that she'd likely be getting killed…but what about me! Same difference.

"Anyway, Motum said that you don't have to necessarily use weapons. You just need to show them what you can do, and if they're impressed…obviously the higher score you'll get."

"Maybe you can design something for them, or…" catching Farah's uncertain look, I just sighed and shook my head. "I don't know. This is so hard." There was more that I could've added to that statement, but really those four little words summed it all up nicely.

Farah's hand wound lightly over my forearm, and I tried not to jump when it did. Her voice was pitying, but also very understanding. "I know. I wish we'd been able to meet under…different circumstances."

I looked at her, Farah's eyes downcast at her lap as she'd removed her hand from my arm. After not speaking with her most of the day, I was realizing that we were paired up. Not just because we were from District Eight, but because we shared our thoughts and opinions with one another. If I'd been more bold like Etcher, and perhaps a little more curious than I truly was, I might've tried to give her a hug, or something. Still while I felt close with Farah, there was something between us that was counterproductive to getting too close. It might have just been the Hunger Games. Obviously it is a bit pointless to start thoroughly enjoying someone's company, days before you'll be pitted against each other in a battle to the death. As our eyes met though, I knew it was something else. Something about Farah that kept me from going the extra steps, and seeing what might happen.

"Knox has got Daisy," Farah listed off, referring to the girl from Nine, "Motum and the blonde girl from Five. The two from Six, and the people from Ten seemed interested too. The guy from Twelve, his name's Noah, he wants in on the deal too, but his partner is really flaky."

It took me a moment, but then I pictured the female tribute from Twelve. Green eyes, but everything else about her was unremarkable, and it seemed that even her personality could use a tune up. She seemed twitchy and extremely high strung, it had been written all over her face. Under different circumstances that might've been downright embarrassing. She—whatever her name was—was in here with people younger than her who didn't seem as fidgety and uncertain as her by half. "Sounds about right," I said.

"That many people together can be powerful," I reasoned, "but they also might be slow. If Knox is wanting to face off, all of us versus the Careers, we'll be easy pickings."

Farah nodded, and cleared her throat a little. "I'm thinking the same thing. Hopefully he isn't that dumb. The way it will work, is if we find someone whose with us, work together. Then we can try to whittle down the Careers. Still, I'm not too sure it'll work. Guess it's more just a nice thought, than anything else."

Wow, was I that melancholy? Something told me yes. Seeing it on Farah over there, I realized how defeating it could be to be to verbalize things so honestly.

"I think I'm going down to the cafeteria, and eat something." I proclaimed.

"You could eat here." Farah suggested mildly.

Somehow the fact that I knew she probably wanted me to stay, made me all the more certain that I was not going to. "Nah I need to be somewhere semi-public. Besides, maybe there'll be someone down there I can talk to. If Knox is, I can get the story as to just what he plans to do, other than just get us all together."

"Alright." She said. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Part of me wanted to apologize, and explain that no…I'd stay with her for a while longer, but I just could not seem to. Why? I couldn't tell, myself.

While I fully expected to find the cafeteria closed, it was demonstrably open. The lights were on, and what's more, there were a couple of my fellow tributes down there.

I was accosted by the sexy girl from District Four, who had actually told me her name was Tecla. She had seemed nice, but that's all the more reason for me to distrust her utterly. She hadn't wanted anything specific, but it was making me very nervous, as her rat-faced comrade from Four, and the longer haired silent guy from Two, looked on. She asked me some vague questions about my district. She'd alluded to the fact that she might've thought me alright looking, though it was a shame I wasn't taller.

Tecla was not being too overtly flirtatious, but just the way her eyes moved, or the way she behaved, it was always there—just below the surface. It was easy to see that Tecla used sex as the medium of life, and how she maneuvered through it. Wouldn't have surprised me at all if she was sleeping with one or both of her fellow Careers back there. I had no proof obviously, but she seemed the type. Had Etch been here, he would've surely said or done something that would've gotten us both into a lot of trouble.

Thankfully, Tecla had left me after a span that couldn't have been longer than a couple of minutes. I had a brilliant view of her posterior, but I was too uncomfortable to enjoy it. The guys from Two and Four were of course glancing in my direction, and I fully expected them to come on over, but they did not. When the three Careers all departed rather suddenly, I should've felt relief. Part of me wondered if with Tecla's little visit, was I now number one on their hit list? I hadn't done anything, except perhaps making the mistake of coming down to the cafeteria.

Again without even needing to, I was approached by two other tributes, the two I was pretty sure were from District Ten, or Eleven. The guy was shorter, maybe just an inch or two taller than me, with a build similar to my own. Perhaps a bit more solid and sturdy than me. He had bright blue eyes, and blonde hair. His companion was nice looking, with short dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She smiled at me first.

"Mind if we sit down?"

"By all means." I said, noticing how after the little visit from Tecla, even the amazing food in the Capitol was tasting bland and unremarkable. The Careers departure still filled the room, like an echo. All that remained was myself, the pair who now joined me, and the black kid who ate further away from us, apparently having no designs on joining us anytime soon, either.

"I'm Cynthia, this is Haw." The brunette told me, hanging onto the half-eaten delicious looking yellow pear. "Your name is Henry, right?"

"Herod." I corrected, nodding first to Cynthia, and then to the blonde guy, Haw.

Cynthia chuckled, "Sorry about that. Knew it started with an H."

"So what'd she say to you?" Haw inquired boldly. He seemed merely curious. He had a youthful, open face that made him look immediately trustworthy, somewhat similar to Wren.

"Oh…nothing much." I murmured, shaking my head. "I think she might've been trying to intimidate me, I'm not sure. Very pretty…but, I'm not stupid enough to fall for that old routine."

Cynthia chuckled, smiling lightly at me. "She's gorgeous. And she isn't quite as much of a royal bitch as that pretty girl from District One."

"Girls like that are bad news." Haw said, hiding a small yawn as he picked at the piece of cake he'd brought over. "Jessamine is the girl from One. Smart...deadly. I think the girl from Four isn't quite as dangerous."

I spoke to Haw, then. "She try and pull anything with you?"

"Not really. Are you uh," he glanced to Cynthia and then proceed, not exactly the best at covert operations there, "Going to side with Knox then?"

"I don't see why not. Yeah. It's better than any plan I can come up with." I admitted with a shrug.

Haw laughed, and his laughter was pleasant—reminded me of Etcher's a little bit. "Well sure. Then you're with us too. Us'n, District Five, Six…the guy from Twelve."

"Knox and Daisy, of course." Cynthia added, looking between me and her peer. "What about the girl from your District, Herod? Is she in, or out?"

Now I was trapped, there was absolutely no good way of skirting the issue, here. "Yeah, she is. Farah's just quiet is all. She's a little different, but she's in."

Cynthia was nodding, as Haw said, "Cool. So there's nine of us then, to their eight. Dunno about everyone else. Including him, over there," motioning to the black kid who didn't even seem to be eavesdropping on us. "Guess they've got their own designs on what 'ta do.

"The girl from Twelve is probably with us too," Cynthia said, though she didn't look too sure. "I can't remember her name, I think it starts with a K."

I ate my pasta, which was beginning to taste better now that the Careers had departed and I was in the company of District Ten. I couldn't believe my luck, really. Unless every last one of them was playing me for a fool, between them, Knox and Daisy, the people from Five that Farah knew, and Wren and Arko from Six, I'd sort of fallen into what was shaping up to be a solid coalition.

Haw laughed, "She's awful nervous though, whatever her name is. I don't think we can really count on her for much, is all I'm saying."

"Agreed." I threw out there. The girl from Twelve oozed flakiness. Also seemed like a good time to agree with Haw, and further solidify our…friendship? That might have been a strong word for what it really was. Cooperation is really all it was. The eight of us who seemed solidified behind Knox. It might all fall to shit, but like Farah had so somberly explained upstairs, it was a nice thought. All of us standing up and hoping to challenge the Career tributes.

"How old are you?" Cynthia asked.

"Seventeen. Just turned seventeen."

"I'll be seventeen in about a month." Cynthia said. "What're you lookin' at me like that for, Haw? It's true. I'll be older than you, no matter how you look at it."

"Shut up Cyn, you ain't fooling nobody. Just because you're older doesn't mean you're smarter."

I listened to them bicker, though good-naturedly back and forth for a little while until I couldn't stand it anymore. "You two know each other? I mean, before you were reaped."

"Sure do." Haw said succinctly.

Cynthia was willing to elaborate a little bit more. "Our families know each other a little bit. We'd met about what, four of five times before. It isn't as though we were best friends or anything, but now I'm stuck with him whether I like it or not. Aren't I?" Her eyes flew to her side, where her fellow tribute polished off the remainder of his dessert.

"Like you're such a treat to be around all the damn time," Haw spat her, giving me a look which insinuated that Cynthia might not be the pleasant young woman I saw before me, all the time.

I laughed at them, finding it incredibly refreshing. They seemed to be on the same wavelength. This was unlike Knox and Daisy, who seemed to be near polar opposites, or Arko and Wren who I got the impression were a bit more like Farah and myself. Allies…thrown into this situation, but normally might never associate. Got me wondering just what I might have done if I had met Farah back home.

I spoke with Cynthia and Haw for a while, none of us noticing just when the dark skinned guy who was from either Three or Eleven, departed. I genuinely liked both Haw and Cynthia, both for slightly different reasons. Haw was very down to earth and seemed trustworthy and a solid guy all-around. Cynthia was sprightly, and effortlessly amusing. Whereas I could picture Haw working hard in his district, it was difficult to picture Cynthia doing anything much more taxing than feeding some chickens or milking some cows.

Even more shocking, I found myself sharing with them a bit about my own life. A few things even Wren, even Farah, didn't know. They hadn't asked, whereas these guys from Ten had. They were salt of the earth, good-hearted types. They couldn't hide it if they tried. Made me feel guilty, because like little Lurie from District Five, Cynthia and Haw were people I did not want to see die in the Hunger Games.

Cynthia had an older brother, and Haw had two older sisters, and a younger brother. His family worked at a feed lot, whereas her family were ranchers. That surprised me, because I just expected a girl who worked on a farm might be less willowy and lightly built, than Cynthia was.

Haw had headed off to bed first, leaving Cynthia and I to talk a bit more. She had a boyfriend that, if she won these Hunger Games, planned on marrying as soon as possible. I couldn't fault her for that, not in the least. We both commiserated about how unfair these Games were, but how under Knox's umbrella, we might stand a fighting chance.

After all, what else could we really hope for?