"Alright, the game starts now."

I jump at the sudden voice, recoiling away from the entrance of a pretty middle aged woman and Finnick. Kyle jumps slightly as well, and we exchange quick glances of reassurance with each other before focusing on the two individual who will be keeping us alive during the coming horror. I already know Finnick, and though I've seen the female victor around the marketplace with her two small children, I can't remember what her name is.

The woman keeps talking. "I'm Marcela, and this is Finnick. It should be obvious by now that we're your mentors. Now, we've been where you are right now, we've encountered nearly everything that you're bound to be facing, so if you want to stay alive you will obey me and Finnick without question. Am I understood?"

Taken aback, I stare back at her. Marcela doesn't seem anything like the mother from the marketplace, her tone is pure business. After some consideration, I decide that this is a good thing. I need to be coached, not coddled, and from the determination in Marcela's eyes I see the victor in her. She knows what it takes to make it out of the arena alive, and it doesn't seem like mentor Marcela will be sugarcoating anything about the arena. Straightening up, I say, "Yes ma'am" in the clearest voice I can muster. I've decided to place my entire survival in this woman's hands after less than a minute of consideration, and I'll be damned if she thinks she can just write me off as another goner. Her eyes meet mine and I return the gaze as fiercely as possible, trying to convey, in one glance, my determination and the utter certainty that I'm not going down without a fight. Marcela gives the slightest of nods.

"We'll decide later whether we adopt a team strategy or not, but for now, Kyle, I am your mentor, and Annie, you are Finnick's responsibility."

What? Appalled, I stare at Finnick, who has an expression of equal shock and dismay. "But…"

"Is there a problem, Miss Cresta?" Marcela snapped.

Narrowing my eyes, I turn back to Marcela, whose face is unexpectedly intense, her expression almost… challenging. Realization hits me. "No," I say through gritted teeth. She can't not know that Mitch was my brother. There must be some reason behind this, some hidden motive. "Of course not."

Marcela gives me a hard look, then addresses both me and Kyle. "Dinner's not for another 90 minutes, but I want you both to go to your rooms, take a shower and change clothes. Anything District 4 gets thrown out. Clothes, letters, jewelry, everything. " Her voice is as sharp as the prongs on a trident. "From now on you start thinking as a tribute. District 4 is already gone. Your focus now is on survival. Go." Marcela waves her hand and me and Kyle sit in our chairs, confused for a moment until Marcela repeats herself. "Go!" We jump out of our chairs, and after a quick glance at each other, exit the lounge car.

I waited for a moment after Annie and Kyle left then rounded on Marcela. "What are you playing at?" I snarled.

Marcela's face was hard. "I did what I had to Finnick."

"You had no right!"

"We're mentors. Our job is to keep our tributes alive. It's clear you're more invested in Miss Cresta's Games than the boy's." Marcela shot back. "If I was her mentor, you'd neglect your own tribute in always watching after my tribute instead of your own. I was not going to let that boy die because of you. What is your interest in the girl anyway?"

Breathing hard, I struggled to grasp Marcela's words. The woman was more insightful than I'd realized. "Nothing," I spat out finally, clenching my fists. "Nothing."

Marcela eyed me suspiciously, but chose not to pursue the topic any further. Instead, she took a completely different tack. "So tell me about them. You're a trainer, you've seen them in the Center. Do they have a chance?"

I shake my head slightly, falling back into my role as a mentor. "I've seen them both train- both at the top of their classes, decently conditioned. I say we absolutely have a fighting chance this year."

"Good," Marcela whispered, and as she leaned back against the seatback, her eyes closed. She was relieved to be actually mentoring, instead of simply preparing our tributes for slaughter, which had happened on more than one occasion. It was never easy, coaching a frightened teen while knowing all the while they wouldn't last more than a few days at the most, and I knew the mother inside Marcela hated it. I hated it as well, talking with, getting to know a tribute then watching them die a gruesome death on nationwide television while people cheered in the streets. Anger bloomed inside me, quickly stilled as I thought of Annie. I was going to bring her home somehow. I still wasn't quite sure how, but the Cresta's were not going to lose another child. That I was sure of.

The long shower felt nice, though the dozens of perfumed water spouts made me a little sick. I wrinkled my nose until I found one that smelled like a sea breeze, then hesitated. Nothing from District 4, Marcela had said. Nothing that would remind me of home. With a sigh, I chose one that smelled of cucumbers instead, washing off the salt and sand that was present on the skin of everyone in District 4. When it came to choosing clothes, I hesitated. It was my mother's dress I was wearing, one of my favorites, and I was loath to part with it. It smelled of her perfume, and holding it close to my nose, I inhaled and it almost seemed like my mother was there with me. Reluctantly, I laid it aside, donning instead some stretch pants and t shirt along with sturdy boots. If I'm going to start thinking like a tribute, flowing dresses are going to have to go. Practicality, not sentiment, is what rules my choices now.

Kyle is already at the table when I walked in, shoveling food into his mouth as he listened to some spiel Marcela was giving. She stopped when she noticed me standing in the doorway. "Well come on in Annie, sit down and eat. You're going to need your strength."

Smiling uneasily, I take a seat at the other end of the table and eye the food in front of me with some confusion. Platters of roast, mountains of fruit, but nothing looked that looked familiar. I was wary of eating too much of the rich Capitol food and being sick tomorrow. A hand suddenly reaches over and tugs my plate out from in front of me. "Please, allow me." Starting slightly, I look up to see Finnick piling my plate with food from several of the dishes then placing it back in front of me. "This is the stuff most similar to District 4," he explained in a quiet voice, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "It shouldn't cause you any problems for tomorrow."

Dammit, how did he know what I was thinking? "Oh…well…thanks I guess."

He inclined his head with the slightest of nods, his blue eyes gazing at me with unexpected sadness. "You're welcome Annie."

Finnick was silent for the rest of the meal as Marcela continued to coach us on what to expect when we got to the Capitol, picking at his food but never actually eating much. I could see he was watching each bite I took though, and as I was pretty hungry I made sure to finish the entire plate. Though Marcela's speech was undoubtedly filled with potentially lifesaving information, her voice began to bore me after a while and my attention started to wander. Kyle was drinking in every word that came from Marcela's mouth, and even Finnick seemed to be listening attentively, his forehead wrinkling occasionally or closing his eyes. I started to wonder what was happening at home at that point. The party in the Training Center had to have started already, but there would no doubt be a damper on it due to my absence, but not by much. My family would normally just be sitting down to eat at this point, but I'm sure tonight would be terrible for them. My mother was probably sedated in her bedroom, my father lost in the depths of some bottle. Ian would have gone home to be with them, just as he was when Mitch had been reaped, and was probably making sure my mother didn't hurt herself and that my father remained conscious. Thinking of them caused a painful twist in my heart, and I ached to go back to them.

"Annie?"

I jerked myself out of my speculations, struggling to catch up on the conversation. Something about waving. "Um yes?"

Marcela, Kyle, Trianga, and Finnick were all staring at me with slightly perplexed expressions. Shoot. I guess that wasn't the right answer after all. "Oh, well….what were you saying? I'm sorry my mind was wandering."

Marcela shook her head dismissively, waving one hand. "Happens to us all. But I do think that's enough for one night. Feel free to stay here or in the lounge car, but try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be…interesting to say the least. I'll be in my car if you need me" With a tight smile, she rose from the table, wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin, then swept out.

Uncomfortable silence filled the dining car as Finnick, Kyle and I sat and looked at each other. Suddenly I rose from my chair, my movements somewhat jerky. "Excuse me for a moment." I needed to get out of there. I needed to be alone. The panic that had threatened to overwhelm me all day now come roaring back with a vengeance, and I was not about to show weakness in front of another Tribute even if he was my District partner. If all those years of studying the Games had taught me something, it was that appearing strong was more important than actually being strong.

Kyle looked startled at my sudden movement, and even Finnick seemed somewhat taken aback. "Take your time."

I mechanically made my way out of the room and into the corridor, falling against the wall and closing my eyes, breathing deeply. Calm down Annie! I scolded myself, angry that I was having a panic attack so early on. Pull yourself together will you? Before I could fully shut the door, Kyle's voice drifted out to where I stood.

"Don't lie to me Odair, but do you think that we actually have a chance this year?"

That's an interesting question. I stay quiet, straining to hear Finnick's answer

Finnick is silent for a moment, then comes his quiet sigh. "It's not going to be easy that's for sure. But yes, I say both of you stand a fighting chance."

"Hmmm." They're both quiet, and I'm about to reenter when Kyle speaks again. "Do you think you can get Annie to trust you again?"

What? Frantically, I stifle my gasp as I press my ear closer to the door.

"What do you mean?"

Kyle lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "We all know she blames you for Mitch man. Annie's a great girl. Stubborn as hell though, and I'm not about to be killed because of that." He scoffs derisively.

I'm about to march right in there and put Kyle in his place when Finnick's replies in biting tones. "I did her a great wrong Kyle, and she's right to hate me for it." His voice turns to ice. "But if you think that's a weakness of hers you are mistaken. Annie isn't as shortsighted to let anger blind her in the arena, and more capable than you'd think. If you hope create an alliance with your district partner, you'd better start recognizing that fact or you won't last long. Am I understood?"

"Yes," Kyle mutters sullenly.

My hand drops limply to my side as I stare at the door. Swallowing hard, I reenter the room, acting as if I hadn't heard anything.

The rest of the evening passes in uncomfortable conversation. Now that I know for certain that Kyle's been evaluating me through the eyes of a tribute, I'm as brash and confident as I can muster, and though I know Finnick can see right through my act, I think Kyle has bought it. Alone though, I can't seem to keep my hands from shaking. Sleep? Not a chance. I'm not meant for this competition. I have all the skills, I'm strong and fast and a survivor, but what I don't have is the backbone to kill. Mitch had it; he could steel himself to end someone's life if needed. And he did. He killed nearly half the tributes himself. I still can't get the image of him dying out of my head…

"Annie?"

Crap. I'm supposed to be sleeping. Hurriedly, I shrug on a robe. "Um yes?"

Finnick edges his way into the room, looking at me with concerned eyes. "I noticed your light was still on."

Shoot. "Yea, I couldn't sleep," I said nonchalantly, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on my sheets. "I'll try to get to bed soon though." His forehead wrinkles and he looks at me disbelievingly. I almost laugh—it's so familiar, yet not, at the same time. Finn and Mitch had been best friends until Finnick won the Hunger Games, and moved into Victor's Village and became consumed with his duties to the Capitol. Up until that point, they had been inseparable.

I missed Finn. Mitch never said much about the whole situation, but I could tell he missed his buddy dearly. After he died, I was so angry. Still, now, looking at Finn, and replaying his conversation with Kyle over in my mind, I'm not sure what to think.

"Do you want to talk?"

I eye him suspiciously, then shake my head, my voice quiet. "No, thanks Finn." He stiffened at the nickname, but after a second nodded his head and stole back through the door. I sigh, looking at my bed resignedly then getting in and pulling the covers over me. Talking to Finnick had left me drained somehow.