The waiting room can only be described as one thing. Extravagant. Sure, my family's one of the wealthier ones in our district, but that's honestly not saying much. Our place is a two-room, brick block. There's no brick to be seen in here. There are oriental carpets everywhere I step, draperies, famous paintings, velvet couches. I'm sitting on one of them now. I relish it.

The awkward part is who's sitting next to me. That boy, Liham. He hasn't said a word. I wish Gentian were here. Even though he'd screw it up, he'd still say something. I can't be expected to do everything. We're both at opposite sides of the couch. We're both thinking. My main question is, what's my strategy? Do I play with Liham or not? Falling for him is out of the question. He's all wrong. He's too perfect. What will my family do? My dad obviously can't go past a month or two without me. Hunter's either got to step up, or- or they're doomed. Liham snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Burnet, right?" he asks. I nod. He already knew that. I can tell he's being careful about what he says. I wish he were a jerk. It would make things a whole lot easier. For now, I'm going to assume he's a jerk until proven wrong. "So what're we going to do now?" he asks, as if reading my mind. What will be done? What little talking was being done is interrupted by the arrival of Hunter and my dad. As my dad strides in, I stand up, and I hug him as hard as I can. Odds are I'll never see my dad again. When I release, I see Hunter standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He's wearing a poker face. I don't want to hug him, but I do. I walk slowly to him. He still doesn't acknowledge me. I suddenly hug him, very quickly and swiftly, and turn away from him before seeing his reaction. What I do see is Liham staring at me very peculiarly, and quickly trains his eyes on Hunter before he thinks I notice anything. I don't doubt he was only looking at me for a second. What's so special about me? No, he wouldn't have been staring at me.

I walk back over to the couch, and take a seat. My dad and bother are escorted out. I'm confused. Was that it? I wasn't allowed to talk, or assure, or anything? I then realize why. A family of what must be twenty floods into the room and crowds around the couch. Before they form their circle, I dodge out and settle in the corner, just staring as the family exchanged teary hugs and loving words. It was almost unbearable. Why isn't my family like this? I looked around the room. I didn't want to be sad for this family. But the kids were so- pitiful.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a red splotch several feet in the air, moving slowly towards me. I don't think twice about who it is. I almost jump on him, and Gentian wraps his arms around me, and everything's better. We'll be training with knifes together again tomorrow. We'll go to school together, we'll come back home and play with his little sister. We'll have lunch in the cafeteria together, talk about the newest knife brand together. It'll all be fine. Us two friends.

But he broke apart, his eyes pained. Reality broke like an egg on my head, and I was distressed again. "You okay?" he asked, and I knew what he meant. Me, in the Hunger Games? He knew I was dreading it. There was something else there, though. What else was there to feel?

I gulped. "Never been better, Gent." I squeaked, and hugged him again. This one was quick. The hour was up. We moved to the side as Liham's family flooded out of the door, omitting several pitches of sniffs, squeals, and screams. We were silently communicating again. He and I both knew that I wasn't going to win. He and I both knew that I wasn't coming back. Both of our eyes were filled with sorrow. He took my hand, squeezed it, and left.

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The moment I had set foot onto the train, the idea really settled into my mind. That I was most likely walking to my death. That knife throwing wasn't going to cut it. I was annoyed at Liham. He hadn't presented an idea. He wasn't taking charge. Neither was I, but he's the guy! Are we "romantically involved" or not? I hadn't watched the 74th Hunger Games. That was 26 years ago. I wasn't alive, but I'd heard about the Mellarks. They were supposed to be missing after starting a failed rebellion. it had worked for a little bit, but the government had been obviously overthrown by the former Capitol again, and most things went back to normal. But normal would never exist for me. I'd always be that girl who compete in the 100th Hunger Games. The Love Season.

I'd immediately plopped down on my bed after being led to my compartment, and had been sitting there, thinking, for nearly an hour. Dinner was in twenty minutes. I hopped out of bed drowsily, padding to my drawers and pulling out a knee length pink skirt and a loose cream shirt. Not my favorite, but it would do.

I pad out to the moving dining room. Mallie Trinket is there, and so is Liham. Is there no mentor? I sit down nervously. We are in an average sized, rectangular room with low ceilings, but a large dining table piled high with food. I am salivating. I am about to dig in when Mallie cleared her throat.

"I have to- talk to you two." she said, and I am very shocked at how… normal her voice sounds. Isn't she the squeaky one who is pretty much one giant frill? She looks so serious. I glance at my lap, and back up to her. Liham is next to me, but several feet away from me. I glance his way. He's staring at Mallie intently. It dawned on me that he would do everything possible to win, whether it meant killing me, or anyone else.

"I'm going to be your mentor. With Haymitch Abernathy and the Mellarks missing, there are no current victors." she says, and I instinctively glance at Liham. He glances at me. We look away at the same time.

"I've also been instructed to tell you that there will absolutely be two winners this season. Only if they're from the same district." she adds, and my eyes again lock into Liham's. I only look away after a few seconds this time.

"Okay, okay," interrupts Liham, and I'm glad he does. This can go on for a while. "but do you have any strategic advice for us?" he asks, and we both focus on her. Everything's silent except for the distant clinking of the wheels. Mallie gulps.

"Well, I do have some. You-" she hesitates, "You have to stand out. You have to be madly in love."