Author's Note: Ohoho, it'll be a bit annoying to read through the second part of this chapter. Just a warning.

To APH fans: I genderbent Poland so he/she could come from the same district as Lithuania. She won't act much different, anyway. Aha.

WindBlown101, you're the awesomest reviewer ever. :D

...And if anyone thinks he or she can prove me wrong, I'd sure like to see you try. ;)

Toris Lithu, District 12

My first visitor in the Justic Building is my father. The Peacekeeper lets him in silently, and he responds with a curt nod before taking a seat in one of the chairs. He crosses his arms, which are much more muscular than mine, and scrutinises me with his deep blue eyes.

I inhale coolly, holding his gaze with my own blue eyes.

I look a lot like my father, actually. Same eyes, same nose, same wavy, brown hair that we both keep a little longer than the average male's.

I'd like to think the resemblance stops there, with the physical traits, but that's a lie. We're about the same psychologically, with one striking difference. The questions we ask.

Like the one Dad has opened his mouth to ask me now.

"So, will you come home?"

What a question, Dad. What a question.

Not that I didn't expect him to ask something like that. It's a habit of his, really. Asking those questions no one wants to hear, think about, or answer. Questioning everything we know, making me share his feelings of disillusionment...

I'm used to it. I hate it, and I never want to consider anything he's asked me, but I'm used to it.

As for answering today's question...

I don't know. I want to tell him that I don't know. But he never, never takes that as an answer. Thinks the slightest indecision is a sign of weakness. So I have to come up with a clear yes or a clear no.

Could I survive in the arena? Well, being only 14, I'm not going to be taller or stronger than most of the other competitors. I could say that I'm smarter, but being book smart and knowing how to survive the Games are two very different things.

What else could help me win? Luck? There's no predicting that, especially when I don't know what the arena is yet. Alliances? I don't know how much that would help.

I will be allied with Poal, though; she's my district partner here as well as a childhood friend. We've known each other for a while, long before I had to relocate to the Seam because of financial troubles.

She never had to move. She hasn't had the most pampered life, admittedly, but she was always better off than me. Her family runs a candy shop, what they've done for generations, and even though the market is limited to the richer of District 12, they always manage well.

My family never inherited anything from our forefathers. Only our lives, destined to waste away in the lightless depths of the coal mines.

But it looks like I'll break with that destiny after all. Instead of the mines, I'll waste away in the Hunger Games arena, with so many cameras on me people may actually pretend to care. Is it better than dying in the coal mines, where your name and face will fade from the world's memory within a week?

I don't know. I don't know the answer.

But that question will gnaw at me day in and day out until I find an answer. It's how I've been raised.

As for the question at hand...

Dad is still staring at me calmly, waiting for an answer. I meet his eyes.

"Yes. I will come home."

Dad nods, the look on his face showing my statement was what he expected.

"Then I will be waiting." He stands up and scans me for a moment...

Then bends down and embraces me.

And as soon as his arms release me, he's already out the door.

My only other visitors in the Justice Building are my two brothers, Esto and Raivis. We reminisce a bit, about the funner things our family has been through, then the Peacekeeper arrives to shoo them away. They bid me a rushed farewell, and then they're gone.

Will I ever see them again?

...

I don't know.

Poal Feliks, District 12

The Justice Building is pretty nice. Nicer than the chipped tile coating my workplace's floors, the carpet's pretty and thick. I can't help but kick off my sandals to feel its fluff between my toes. A few velvet chairs in rich colours are scattered strategically through the room, as well as a few matching throw pillows on a matching couch.

That's where I sit, shuffling my hands through my short, blonde hair before trying to settle them onto the folds of my pink-and-green reaping dress.

I, like, can't stand this. Not only have I been reaped for the Hunger Games, my, like, best friend ever is getting forced there with me.

I always enjoyed being around him, so, like, as a kid, when we still lived within walking distance of each other, I would pull him into things, like, a lot.

But I would never bring him into something like... this.

Like, why do they have to have the Hunger Games, anyway? I know, like, the Treaty of Treason and all that, but... We weren't the rebels. None of us kids has, like, anything at all to do with the rebellion. And, like, none of our parents do, either. So why do they have to punish us?

I don't know. It, like, doesn't make any sense to me.

I guess it's just something you can't really stop.

So, here I am, totally innocent, and still, like, being shipped off to my doom.

Well, I'm not being shipped off just yet. I still have my, like, final goodbyes to get through before that.

My mom and dad have already come and gone, and, like, most of friends have, too.

All of my friends but Toris, actually. And he can't come because he's, like, in his own room in the Justice Building.

Oh, Toris. He's a fun guy, once you get to know him and once he snaps out of his, like, little mood freezes. Of course, I still always had to, like, point out what the funnest thing to do was, but he'd be happy—well, usually happy—to come along.

It'll be nice to, like, get to talk with him again. I know it won't last very long, but it'll definitely be totally cool. I mean, it's been, like, a whole year since I've seen him. That's only because he's too busy with some job he never identified, so we can only, like, see each other at reaping ceremonies.

Not that happy a place to be meeting.

But it's totally better than nothing.

Of course, the Hunger Games arena and stuff won't be, like, happy, either...

God. I'm really, like, going to be in the Games, aren't I? I... I don't know how I'll do. I mean, I'm only, like, thirteen. I'm not really that strong, but I bet I could, like, figure out something... I'll have time in the Training Centre, so I should be able to learn something useful. Then I'll just, like, use that.

I guess that's kind of a shaky strategy, but oh, well. It's, like, the best I have. I'm not the brilliant mind here—though I'm totally not just stupid, thank you very much—Toris is. And if those freaky thoughts that steal away his attention for, like, minutes on end are any indication, he's probably the smartest tribute in the field this year.

So, he pulls the strings and I just, like, help us survive. It's worth a shot, isn't it?