The door to my room in the Justice Building slams open. "You have three minutes," the peacekeeper informs us before shutting me in with a fuming Isis. Her face is blotchy and her eyes are swollen. My guess is that she threw a royal temper tantrum after the judges had declared Clove the champion of the challenge and therefore the District 2 tribute.

Isis huffs over to the sofa next to me. "That girl is a monster, I swear. Stay as far away from her as you can."

Fat chance. Anyone her size who can take on Isis and carve their name into her arm, I definitely want on my team. "That's not likely now, as she's my district partner." I grin. "Why? Did she get under your skin?"

"That is not funny, Cato." She shows me her arms, which are bandaged tightly. One arm was mauled by a wild cat. Arguably, so was the other. "There's seriously something wrong with her. I mean, what kind of person would do that?"

"Yeah, like you wouldn't have torn her apart if you had the chance." I saw the murderous look in her face when Clove challenged her. My guess is that if the roles had been reversed, Clove would be long gone by now. "Personally, I think she displayed a lot of self-control."

Her eyes glinted angrily at me. "Listen, I'm only trying to help you survive."

"Survive?" I let out a hearty laugh. The idea of Isis trying to help me survive was absurd. "We've always been totally real with each other, Isis. You just want to see her die at my hands because she beat you. But don't try to pass it off as if you care about –"

The rest of my sentence is cut off because Isis has an iron grip around my neck and is kissing me. A thousand alarms go off in my head at once, all of them hardwired by my parents. They tell me to run. To escape. Nothing is to distract me from training. Nothing can distract me from winning. I must not be weak.

I flash back to all of our training sessions together. The way her body moved with such precision to kill. The flash in her eyes as she parried the blows of my sword. I remembered our proximity while studying books written on anatomy. How animated she got whenever she talked about pinpointing the points of weakness on the human body when finding the best place to strike a deathblow.

In this moment, I forget everything I've ever been taught about conduct, because it feels so good to have her in my arms, our toned bodies against pressed against each other. I swear I can feel every curve of her body and it fits perfectly with mine. I tangle one hand in her silky hair, and yank her closer to me, my other hand resting in the small of her back. The kiss is intoxicating but there's no spark. I know it must be there, deeper. I want more.

But Isis pulls back. Her eyes are as dark and disheveled as her hair. She is panting, but her eyes search my face hungrily, as if hoping if I would pull her back in.

But now that the connection is broken, the ecstasy that fogged my brain has dissipated. It's replaced by a sinking horror and anger. My face drops and I draw back to my corner of the sofa. "What the hell was that?"

"I do care," she responds softly.

"What?"

"You said I didn't care," Isis says, massaging her head vaguely where I had tugged at her hair. "It's been coming on for a while now, but as partners, I couldn't… and we've always been so competitive, so I thought I'd leave it be…" My frown is obviously not encouraging because she looks worried. She sounds less composed than usual so she takes a short breath before continuing. "But now – you win this year and I win next year… We'd both be alive."

"Obviously," I point out coldly. "Losers aren't really my type."

I can tell she's stung because she draws back from me. "What happened today –"

"- proves that you do not have what it takes," I finish for her. "It proves I'm better than you are."

"No it doesn't!" I can tell I've struck a nerve. If I know one thing about Isis, I know that she cannot stand coming in second. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, "I really think that we should just put the past behind us."

"Alright," I say, rising. I can't think straight with her staring at me like this. I need to recompose myself. That kiss was never supposed to happen. Especially right before the games. I need my head on perfectly straight. "So I go to the games this year and win. I kill Clove, or I kill whoever kills her. Because she beat you and I beat her that would mean that I beat you. Fair enough? "

"That's not the point. Cato, we've outgrown this competition."

"Say it, Isis. I will put the past behind me as soon as you admit that I'm better than you."

Her lips purse and eyes narrow. I can tell that she's having a mental battle with herself. "What's the matter?" I taunt, "Cat got your tongue as well as your arm?"

"Fine!" She shouts, "If that's what it takes to convince you, then fine! You're better than me. Is that what you want? To feel brave and strong and manlier than me?"

I look at the girl sitting in front of me, all bandaged and battered. The look on her face is desperate, waiting for me to respond. Her chestnut hair flutters down around her long face. Her body, which felt so perfect against mine, shakes a little. She's beautiful in every way that I've ever known. And she has eyes only for me.

But I want nothing to do with her. "You've given up all your ambition, everything you've ever lived for, to gain my approval." I retreat back to my couch and leer at her. "You're weak."

She draws back, stung. "Loving someone is not weakness."

"It is if it means giving up yourself."

Isis stares at me, dumbfounded. She can't decide if she's hurt or angry. The door slamming open interrupts the silence. My peacekeeper is back to usher Isis out of the room. I bow her out like a gentleman, but she can tell I'm still mocking her. Slowly she rises and makes her way out of the room. Just before she leaves she turns back to me. "I still hope you win, Cato. I know you will if stay away from Clove."

"Thanks for the advice."

Before I have time to compose myself and think about what just happened, a very strange collection of people burst through the door. They have animal skin, literally. And I'm pretty sure I see some feathers as well. One of the females squeals and runs over to me. "Who was that girl leaving?"

"Pretty, wasn't she?" said another.

"Everyone's going to be so pleased with how good we make you look."

We meet our prep teams early because celebrations start early in District Two. I have to refrain from kicking at them as they flit about me, fleshing out my features with make up, plucking stray hairs and poking around my body in an entirely intrusive way. I wish I could just swat them away like flies. Nothing about the Hunger Games had really intrigued me except the arena. I already dislike this aspect of being a tribute.

But when I see myself, I can't help but begrudgingly approve of their work. All the worries I had about turning into some tropical bird at their hands melted away. I still look like myself, but I seem to radiate power.

"Perfect!" says a woman who is entirely turquoise. "You look excellent! Just a short meeting with your mentor, and you'll be ready to head off to the train!"

I jerk my head in response. It's the best attempt at politeness or gratitude I can give after feeling so assaulted. But they don't really seem to notice anything. Giggling, they exit the room almost as suddenly as they've entered it. Idiots. Capitol people are ridiculous.

The door opens one final time, and my mentor enters the room. Brutus is big and strong like I am. He won the games about ten years ago, but is not much worse for the wear. His arms still look as thick as a tree trunk. My theory is that his talent had something to do with throwing boulders. He crosses his eyes and throws me a knowing grin. God, I'd love to punch him right now. I know all too well where this is going.

"So…" he says, "so… an interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah. I never thought Clove would be able to actually get this far."

"Oh, I wasn't referring to Clove," he arches an eyebrow. "But yes, I agree, that is interesting, indeed. Enobaria's not too pleased."

I can't tell if he's talking about Clove beating Isis, or my recent interaction with her. I shrug. "Neither am I, but what's done is done." I pretend he's still talking about the challenge. "I thought you'd be happy. You've always liked Isodele better than Enobaria anyways."

"Oh, believe me, going to the Capitol for three weeks with Isodele will be very enjoyable for me. It does make things trickier when it comes to getting you sponsors."

That's hard for me to believe. Next to me, Clove will look like a shrimp. Anyone in their right mind would be able to see who has more of a chance. But I'm intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Brutus dons his stupid grin again. "Isodele can be very persuasive."

His comment takes a moment to set in. I can't believe this. So the reality is that tributes have very little to do with sponsorship – it's all about the desirability of the mentors. How twisted. These capitol people are playing with our lives here. But they obviously care more about their own pleasure. I shut my eyes and lean back in my chair. "Isn't that illegal?"

"In the Capitol, nothing is off limits."

"Well…" I can't really think of anything, so I take my frustration out by punching a cushion. "You're my mentor! You're supposed to be the one taking care of these things!"

"There is only so much I can do without certain… assets…" He looks at me pensively while chewing on his lip for a moment. "You will have plenty of sponsors, Cato, believe me. People will not fail to recognize your strengths. But if you want to be able to use the Capitol support to the fullest potential, we're going to have to rethink your arena strategy."

"I was going to be allies with Isis. But if you're suggesting that I make enemies with Clove, you've lost your mind. I still want her as my partner."

"Of course you do. The problem is that she doesn't particularly want you." I stare at him dumbfounded for a moment. The thought that someone would reject my help had never occurred to me. I was sure up until this moment that the rest of the tributes would be licking my boots, trying to team up. "I overheard her talking to Isodele just now. It seems to me that you might not be on her graces at the moment."

My mind transports me back to a scene three years ago, when Clove was initiated as an elite. It was a rare thing to have an outsider so young join the upper ranks of the Academy. None of us knew who she was. We had never seen her outside of the training ring. We were all curious about her.

In the Academy, you do not have friends. You have allies. You only team up with those who have something to offer that you do not already have. Alliances dissolve and reform constantly because we have to fight to stay on top. Even one sign of weakness is enough to lose you years of hard-earned respect. Only the strongest make it. Things like feelings have never had a place at the Academy.

Clove was strange, though. She was never interested in teaming up with anyone or fighting her way to the top. She didn't care what people thought of her skill. In her mind, she had already beaten us all. She was odd. She'd challenge the best of the best to training duels, but would never take on a group. Many alliances were interested in recruiting her. She denied the offer every time. Some tried to bully her into joining them. That stopped when the leader of the head gang two years ago "accidentally" lost his hand in a fight with her. Apparently the day before, his cronies attempted to beat her up behind the arena.

The trainers had no idea what to do with her, so they ignored her. Most of the students followed suit. But Isis was still curious. And because she was always my partner, I helped her. One night after Isis and I had finally made it to the top of the alliance ladder, she insisted that we follow Clove back to her home after training.

And that's how I found out the truth about her family.

I never really considered Clove an enemy, but she never expressed any interest in becoming my ally. Because of that, she was dangerous. So I did what I could to make sure she would never be a threat to me. I destroyed her reputation within the Academy. No one would respect the daughter of a disgraced peacekeeper, the scum of the grungiest restaurant in town.

Now every taunt, and harsh accusation I've ever made is pouring through my head like the flash floods that sometimes ravage the mining villages in the mountains. Somewhere in my mind, I had believed that the tributes of our District were always allies. Like they were required. But that didn't make sense. Other Districts didn't do that.

Essentially I had screwed myself.

"My suggestion to you," says Brutus as he watches the horror of reality cover my face, "is to mend whatever it is you've broken in her. Get to know her. Be her friend."

I glare at him in disgust. "If you haven't noticed, I don't have any friends."

"Yes. I understand from Enobaria that friendliness is not your strong suit…"

"Isis and I were not friends!"

"Clearly. The period of your affection was tragically short lived." He laughs at me. "No, Cato, I'm not speaking of the sort of twisted friendship that you had with Isis. I'm talking about something based off of mutual trust. If not friendship, you can at least have a non-hostile companionship with Clove. You're not as different as you think you are, and you will both need each other in the arena."

A bell rings behind the door, signifying the end of our short meeting. It's time for the departure parade. Brutus shakes my hand in a somber way, and I realize that he actually cares for me. I'm sure he'll do everything he can to keep me alive through this.

"Just make sure you're careful."