I searched for Autumn in the crowd. Logic stated she had to be here somewhere, but where I could not find. The one person I wanted to see was the one person I couldn't find. Cal stood annoyingly close to me, giving me a strange look as my head rotated back and forth, scanning the room for her.

"Who are you looking for?" he asked.

"Is it any of your business?"

"Not really. Just thought I could help."

I didn't think he'd caught on to the fact I didn't want his help. I needed him once, but that was a long time ago, and I refused to ever need him again. I groaned audibly. Where was she? More tributes had come in, but I still didn't see her. Each new face gave me hope it would be hers, but they all belonged to someone else.

"You're looking for Autumn, aren't you?" he observed.

"No, I'm looking for my other best friend. We're supposed to go to a party tonight." He brought out the worst in me. I was normally so well-mannered, but around him unrestrained sarcasm flowed. Part of me loved it. A bigger part loathed him for it.

"And I wasn't invited because?"

"Because no one likes you, that's why!"

He nudged my arm gently and leaned in towards me, whispering in my ear, "Now, we both know that's not true. Don't we, sweetheart?" I could feel the seductive tone; it ran down my body in cold shivers that both excited and numbed me. My blood burned in my veins, eager to respond to his advances.

Stop that, I commanded my body. The desires of the body often conflicted with the wishes of the mind. It was a tragic flaw in the design of mankind. How could we cooperate with each other when we couldn't even cooperate with ourselves? War raged inside us all. For better or for worse.

Distracted by Cal, I forgot to scout out Autumn. In the end, she found me, worming her way through the haphazard circle of tributes surrounding the unknown woman. On the surface, she appeared the same as always: confident, strong, and capable. If she was anything like me, inside was a very different place.

Neither of us were the most affectionate, but I hugged her regardless. She embraced me back, and for the slightest minute we weren't two teenagers in the Training Center being prepped for the Games; we were friends sharing one of those small moments that could so easily be forgotten in the rigors of daily life, where no one considered the small, seemingly unimportant actions that ultimately made up the greater course of one's life. Life wasn't the sum of the big events; it was the accumulation of a lot of little ones. At the end, that's what you remembered most.

I separated from Autumn. We said nothing. We both just turned to face the woman in front of us while more tributes continued to form the overwhelming circle.

"My name is Atala," the woman announced when all seventy-five of us were there. "Listen closely, as I will explain the rules of training. Any breach of the rules will result in unfortunate repercussions."

What repercussions could she possibly have meant? How was it going to get any worse?

She informed us of all the various stations, saying that an expert resided at each one who would guide us in their particular field. Under no circumstances were we to engage another tribute. At combat stations, there would be someone to practice with us, so we could improve on our abilities. We were free to attend each station for as long as we wished. She then listed out the different stations, of which there was no short supply. I doubted I would manage to attend them all long enough to glean any useful knowledge.

I noticed everyone's eyes darted between the space where Autumn, Cal, and I stood and Atala. That was the price of fame. Recognition everywhere you went. I saw various emotions in them, such as hate, adoration, envy, and even some sadness, which shocked me the most.

"Where to first?" I asked Autumn when Atala dismissed us.

"Not archery. We'd never get to go."

I turned to face the station. Sure enough, twenty kids surrounded the area. No doubt it was so popular because of Katniss. It was her specialty, and since her Games were the most recent, they stuck out the most in people's minds. Too bad she had a life of illegal hunting to prepare, while they only had four days. Sure, enough of them probably took lessons when they were younger, maybe even did it as a hobby still, but I estimated only two of them would leave the Training Center with anything close to deadly competency.

"How about the plants station? I'm all for not dying an unpleasant death due to starvation."

"That works," she agreed.

Caliban followed us, but that didn't surprise me. I wouldn't have wanted to be alone here either. I watched Bertram join the line for archery with someone who I guessed was a friend of his. The two talked anyway, which is more than he did with us.

The man was friendly and almost seemed surprised to have visitors. I noticed no one else came over to see him. Something told me his station wasn't the most popular. From what I saw, most people focused on the more combative places, doing their best to pick up some weapons knowledge before the Games.

It made sense. To survive that initial bloodbath, they would need extreme luck or extreme skill. Seeing as luck hadn't proved a reliable ally yet, working on skill was a good idea.

He explained that most plants could be eaten, even if they weren't particularly appetizing. We could consume the bark on trees, leaves, and even a lot of flowers. Growing up in the Capitol, where food was always abundantly available was to our detriment in these Games. None of us knew how to go hungry and still try to function. He pointed out that more of us would die of legitimate hunger than injuries inflicted by fellow tributes.

The trainer warned us against poisonous berries and plants. He also warned that there had been several years, such as the second Quarter Quell, where the gamemakers intentionally poisoned most of the food and water supply to end the Games quickly. If we weren't absolutely sure something wouldn't kill us, we shouldn't risk eating it, unless the alternative was certain death by starvation. He theorized that it was a likely event in the upcoming Games, seeing as the gamemakers had seventy-four to dispose of before they crowned their Victor.

He spent a lot of time showing us illustrations of edible plants, fruits, and nuts. I paid attention to what he was saying, but there was so much information I knew I wouldn't recall it all. I decided to commit about two dozen to perfect memory.

From there, we wandered around the Center, shamelessly spying on the competition while deciding on the next station to visit. From what I saw, almost none of the people at archery could hit the target consistently, and the majority of people with the swords and spears flailed them around without any actual understanding of how to effectively use the weapon. But, if mindless thrashing was the best everyone could do, then the winner would be the one who mindlessly thrashed the best.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" commented Cal.

"A little bit," I conceded, truly dismayed by the farce unfolding around me.

"Don't be so gullible," commanded Autumn. We both gave her a questioning look. She continued, "They could be faking. I'd wager half of them are."

I hadn't thought of that, which was slightly ridiculous, seeing as I had breakfast with the most famous Victor who utilized such a strategy. She pretended to be weak, an easy target, until almost no one was left. Then she showed everyone who underestimated her just how brutal and powerful she was.

"Like Johanna," said Cal, coming to the same conclusion as me.

"Among others," said Autumn, nodding her head. "I watched every Hunger Games in the last few months multiple times. At least three other Victors used similar strategies. So, do not write them off just yet. They could be the most lethal person in the room and not want to show it."

"Such deception is cowardly," decided Cal. I'd forgotten how noble he could be, despite his snarky attitude.

"Such deception is brilliant," Autumn contradicted. "Brains before brawn, sweet Caliban."

"Cal, you're not exactly known for fighting fair either," I pointed out.

"Well, no, but I'm not that bad," he rebutted in a feeble attempt to defend himself. "I don't pretend to be anything I'm not."

"Technically, they're not either," I said, mostly to annoy him. "Just because they don't reveal their capabilities to you does not make them fake. It just means they want to keep certain aspects of themselves hidden, and don't we all want to do that? After all, who is completely upfront all the time? We all have secrets, and we all have regrets."

He surrendered. "You two win. Who was I to think I could argue with two clever ladies such as yourselves?"

"An arrogant jerk," Autumn and I said at the same time.

"You two are insufferable. Come on, let's go hurl some stuff. I'm dying to throw the spears."

We rolled our eyes and followed the eager boy, who just had to play with his toys.

There were two different sections for spears. One, where you practiced fighting, and one where you practiced throwing. Since throwing a spear with any accuracy wasn't going to happen, I ditched Caliban and Autumn there and worked on learning how to wield one in the traditional way.

The instructor showed me where to place my hands for the best leverage. Because spears were so long, they had an advantage over swords on reach, but they were harder to maneuver. I practiced stabbing motions because that's what it was designed for and parrying others' attacks. After half an hour, my arms burned from the strain of jabbing at my opponent and deflecting his thrusts . By the end of the session, I decided the spear probably wasn't my thing. I wasn't bad, but it just didn't feel right.

Autumn had some difficulty throwing the spear. She managed to hit the target only four out of twenty tries. Caliban, however, excelled, delighting the trainer. Why was I not surprised?

We had time to go to one more station before lunch. I wanted to do throwing knives, but they were tired of throwing weapons, so we eventually ended up at the fire starting one.

He told us that the best fires with the least smoke came from dried wood because it held less moisture to evaporate. If we wanted to avoid detection, we would use wood that had been dead for a long time. We assembled kindling and logs and arranged them into piles that would burn the most efficiently. I constructed a decent enough flame given time, as did Autumn. Since matches weren't a guaranteed luxury in the arena, he made us try to start fires the ancient way—with flint. I found it a tedious, frustrating task. I added pyrotechnics to the list of skills I didn't possess.

Caliban encountered more problems than I did. No matter what he did, he could not get a fire to start, with or without matches. I almost laughed at his difficulty, but that would've been going a little too far. I didn't want anyone laughing at me.

When they called us to lunch, he was forced to abandon the attempt. Angry, he stalked off to where we ate, sullen and moody. It was going to be a pleasant day.

The food was excellent, as always. Normally, I worried about eating too much, but I figured bulking up might be a good thing in preparation for the arena, where finding food could be the hardest challenge.

The entire time, Cal just glared, attacking his food. He hated not doing something well. His competitive nature got the better of him on occasion. Saying anything would be pointless, so Autumn and I just let him sulk. We were both used to his mood swings. Still, it was a quiet lunch without Cal.

Afterwards we resumed training, which was becoming increasingly more annoying. Tempers started to run high by around two, when everyone had managed to visit at least four stations. Failures happened more often than successes, which only meant resentment from the other tributes. After a horrible experience with maces, the three of us finally went to the knives section.

We each had our own target to practice. The array of knives was impressive. Some were long with narrow blades, others short with fat ones. Some curved, some curved more than once, and some had serrated edges meant for sawing through anything. Throwing them was hard because they each had a different balance, so we learned how to feel for it quickly. I guessed the trainer designed it that way, since we needed to be able to use any kind of knife in the arena.

My knives made contact with the target almost every time, but they didn't always stick. Still, after working at it for a while, I improved, making solid sticks in the chests of the practice dummies. I avoided aiming for the head since I wasn't that confident. We all stayed there until the training session for the day was dismissed. Bertram, Autumn, Caliban, and I all rode in the same elevator. Autumn pushed the button for the fourth floor, while the rest of us went back up to the thirteenth floor.

I wasn't looking forward to meeting with the mentors. I was sure they would be less than impressed with our first day. Mine already seemed grumpy enough without adding to her stress level.

They were waiting for us at the table. Effie demanded we join them almost immediately upon entry.

Might as well get this over with, I thought to myself.

"How'd it go?" asked Vivía as soon as we sat down. Short and to the point.

"I'm gonna give it a solid six on a scale between one and ten," said Cal.

"Bertram, Aurora? How about you two?"

"I'll stick with Cal's number," I said.

"Yeah, six sounds good," affirmed Bertram.

She persisted. "And did any of you learn anything remotely useful?"

"I learned maces suck and while plants may be edible, that does not make them fun to eat," I recited.

"I had fun with the maces!" insisted Cal. "They made me look tough."

"Well, so long as you had fun, young man," criticized Vivía.

"Lighten up," Johanna interjected. "It's not like he has a lot of fun left."

Vivía shook her head, as if all of us were a tedious waste of her time. "So, from what I'm gathering, you two went to edible plants and maces, having limited success at the latter. Any others? And how about you, Bertram?"

"I went to archery, swords, spears, and hand-to-hand combat," he revealed.

"We also did fires, spears, and throwing knives."

"That sounds fine," Vivía decided after a moment of consideration. "Tomorrow, visit two of those again and two or three more. I doubt you'll remember everything they told you come tomorrow morning."

"Shouldn't we go to as many as possible? Not revisit the old ones?" questioned Cal.

"Do you really think you'd remember enough useful information?" countered Johanna. "It's good to gain a large base knowledge, yes, but you need to find some specialties while you're here."

"Whatever you say," said Cal, acquiescing to his mentors' wishes.

Bertram asked to be excused, going to his room without another word. Caliban and I stayed at the table and got to know our mentors. Effie was right. Vivía came from District Six. She refused to tell us how she came to be a mentor though, no matter how much we asked. My initial impression of her was accurate; she was a stern woman who did not tolerate nonsense.

Johanna remained as horrendously vicious as she was that morning, but I realized I liked her sick, twisted sense of humor. When I thought about it, I felt bad for her. She seemed lonely, though she'd never admit it. She wore her attitude like armor, afraid that anything, or anyone, might breach it.

I found Herman to be rather dull. He still had the same weary look about him, and he wasn't the best conversationalist. Bertram was going to have a difficult time in the arena, assuming he didn't perish the first day. He lacked any real skills, and his mentor was boring and lame.

We tried to talk more about them, but they always turned it around on us. Still, it was pleasant, in that tragic kind of way, seeing as Cal and I would probably be dead in a week. We all did our best to ignore that fact.

After eating dinner, Cal walked with me to the bedrooms. I was exhausted from the day of training and the mingling with the mentors, who were certainly intimidating if nothing else. Outside mine, he said in his deep, silky voice, "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

I groaned. "Why do you insist on calling me that, even though I keep telling you not to?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes!"

He leaned down and kissed me., starting gently, but soon I felt a longing hunger in it. I surprised myself by kissing him back, his lips soft against mine. I'd almost forgotten how they felt. When he pulled away, I almost stopped him, but I was too caught off guard to react. What did you do when your ex-boyfriend randomly jumped you?

"That's why, sweetheart. Goodnight."

Before I could say anything, he disappeared into his own room, shutting the door behind him.