I didn't expect to sleep that night at all, so I didn't even try to. Beetee told us (after congratulating me on my successful interview) that, if nothing else, tonight was a night to empty our minds, relax, and pretend that tomorrow wouldn't bring about the beginning of the end. Plume offered to retrieve some Capitol sleeping drugs, but Intel and I both refused, as per our District 3 upbringing that taught us drugs unnecessary for recovery from illness or injury are not worth the side effects.

The Capitol itself was celebrating the official beginning of the 44th Annual Hunger Games en force. The streets below us were illuminated in every possible color I could imagine. Billboards that showed our faces were blinking back and forth between most of the buildings. People crowded bookies offices, I was sure, placing their first bets. The streets were packed as if riots were occurring. To some it looked like a wild party, but it frightened me more than excited me. Not to mention, these people would be the ones cheering when I died, my blood spilling on the ground as someone (probably a Career) stood over me in triumph. Only three people in Panem would mourn me.

I sat against a window in the common room in my signature fetal position, watching the night progress. The lights only got brighter and the shouts only got stronger as the hour drew later and later. My mind did anything but empty itself. Instead, it filled me with fear and regret. I feared how I would die. Would it be slow and painful? Would I be killed or die of starvation? Would it be quiet and dignified or humiliating and agonizing?

I regretted not kissing a boy. I regretted not making friends. I regretted never living or even trying to live outside of the books I read. I regretted not being normal. I even regretted not getting closer emotionally to my mother and brother. But, more than that, I regretted not being strong enough to have a chance, so my father wouldn't suffer my death so, as I knew he would.

After the clock in the foyer chimed 1 o'clock in the morning, and I began humming 'Hickory Dickory Dock,' Intel appeared, in pajamas, with tussled hair. At least he'd been trying to sleep.

"You too?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I never tried to sleep. I won't get any."

"Plume will be pissed off," Intel replied, taking a seat on the ottoman across from me. "It won't benefit us to be tired tomorrow."

"I don't think there's a thing in this world short of an act of God that could benefit us at this rate," I sighed. Intel raised an eyebrow.

"You believe in God?" he asked skeptically. I understood his apprehensiveness. Being theistic in Panem, while not illegal per se, was frowned upon. In District 3, it was the same as carrying a license to be utterly mocked by all.

"I don't think so. Back home, I would read old holy books from different religions from before Panem, some of them were very beautiful. They never answered my questions about the Universe, and most of them read like fairy stories," I recalled. "But…some of them were still—"

"—comforting?" Intel asked. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You believe, then?"

Intel nodded. "It's a secret of mine. Even my family doesn't know. But I've believed in a God since I was about eight. It all started when I got my first kiss."

"You've been kissed?" I asked incredulously. Intel nodded.

"His name was Tes, short for Teslabohr."

Teslabohr? Yikes, what an old-fashioned name!

"Tes and I shared a kiss under the Hampton Bridge in the Inner City while waiting for a bus. Neither of us saw it coming, but it was enough to send these feelings running through me. Feelings that made me believe."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Intel sounded like any moment he was going to start reciting love poetry. Such recitations would be totally lost on me.

"I felt a shudder of light radiate down my spine and into my legs. I felt bliss. I felt, well, comfortable. The touch of his skin on mine as he ran his thumb over my knuckles…the smell of his breath…the feeling of the entire world melting away as we kissed. God was with me then," Intel said, deep in memory.

A shot of jealousy ran through me. Intel, who until now I saw as a sincere, but simple boy who was just as sheltered as I was. But no, he was actually ahead of me. He'd kissed someone and felt the emotion of it…yes, I was a little jealous.

"Anyway," he continued. "After the kiss we never spoke to each other again, but those beautiful feelings…how can they just be random events that happen or don't happen? I can't believe that love is just a chance occurrence. That is why I believe in God."

I shrugged, hiding my feelings. "I don't think the same God that made you feel that way would be the God that put you here right now."

Intel looked at me with a queer expression. "It's not about that. It's about faith. And honestly, when I die tomorrow, I will feel better if I hold that faith close."

"You might not—"

Intel shook his head, stopping me. "Wiress, you and I can't lie to ourselves. Maybe you have a chance, but I don't expect to make it more than a few hours tomorrow. I couldn't pick up and real skills in training. I didn't win any sponsors."

I felt a tear in the corner of my eye begin to form.

"The thing is," Intel continued. "I'm afraid, but not upset over it. And I'm going to try. But there are worse things than dying, even in the Games."

"What could be worse?" I asked, tucking my knees under my chin. Intel shrugged.

"Not living. Not loving. Living for eighty-five years as a Capitol drone in a filing room or a laboratory. Truth is, Wiress, life as a District 3 stereotype isn't for me. If I die tomorrow, I won't die a Capitol lemming like my parents. I'll still die as Intel Morgenstern. I will make sure of it, and that's all that matters to me."

In that moment, I utterly admired Intel. His words were the thoughts of a truly courageous man.

"I wish I thought like that. But for me, everything is so concrete. I know tomorrow I'll have one goal, to try and live."

Intel smiled. "I think that's why Beetee has invested so much faith in you. And why I think you can win this thing."

"You really think I could?" I asked hopefully. Intel nodded.

"He likes you, you know."

"Who?"

"Beetee."

I cocked my head. "What do you mean?"

"I know he's nineteen and you're fifteen, but I think Beetee has feelings for you. I've heard him talking about beautiful you were tonight."

I didn't know what to say. Maybe Intel was mistaken. He had to be. Mentors didn't fall in love with Tributes. It was a stupid idea, and Beetee wasn't stupid.

"Do you like him?" Intel asked.

"No," I said bluntly. "I mean, as a friend and Mentor, yes. But not romantically."

Intel nodded. "Sure." He was being sarcastic. "He'd make a nice husband. He'd be gentle, doting, and you know he'd take care of you."

I pouted.

Suddenly, my thoughts ran to Tatsuya. His gentle demeanor. His kindness. His beautiful face and shiny hair…

Intel suddenly got to his feet. "I think I'm going to take a bath in my room," he mused. "Wiress, if we don't see each other tomorrow…good luck."

I stood up to meet him. "Good luck to you too." Then Intel did something I didn't expect. He hugged me and kissed my cheek. His lips were warm.

"I'm glad you're my partner," I whispered. "If you make it past the bloodbath tomorrow…will you try to find me?"

He smiled. "Yes, of course. But…if I don't, I hear District 6 is a good pair to make allies with." He punctuated this with a wink. So he could tell that Tatsuya had caught my eye. Could others? Could Tatsuya himself see it? Did that make me vulnerable?

"But what about what Beetee said?"

The smile on Intel's face now carried a tone of mischief, and it make me giggle (did I ever giggle before then?). "Screw what he said. Sometimes an ally is a good thing to have."

I watched Intel close the door to his room behind him before I sat back down to watch the party in the streets below me rage on into the night.

"You won't be wearing this in the arena. Once you arrive, you'll be taken underground and Aloysius will be there with what you will be wearing. It will be your first hint as to what you'll face."

Beetee and I were walking out on the tarmac on the roof of the Training Center, where the hovercraft was waiting to take me to the arena. I was a little concerned when the Avox laid out a knee-length skirt for me, but Beetee's words made sense.

"When you're on the pedestal, don't hop off until the gong sounds. They surround each one with land mines so you don't get any head starts. Use the minute you're standing there to observe and learn as much about the arena as you can possibly take in. The Cornucopia will be very tempting, but unless you can outrun the Career pack, there's no point in even trying. Sometimes they scatter items of lesser value outside. Use your best judgment. Then, you will want to find a place with fresh, drinkable water. Worry about food later, water is essential. Also, if you find a good hiding place, don't stay within it longer than two days. Gamemakers love to drive people out of hiding with dangers like fire or gas."

Beetee's words might as well have been German. All of the loud noises of the landing pad, plus my own skyrocketing fears, were drowning out his advice.

"Wiress…you read a lot, yes?" he asked. After it took me an abnormally long time to process his question, I turned and looked him in the eye (awkward, as usual).

"I read everything."

"What about…pre-Panem classic literature? From the Late Americana Era?"

"Of course," I whisper. "But what does that have to do with…?"

Beetee winked at me. "I won't be there with you, but I'm going to try something…an idea I had last night. Keep a sharp eye out for sponsor gifts."

I nodded and looked towards the revving aircraft. It was time.

"Beetee, I—"

"—and always keep your eyes open. Even in the arena, there may be an exploitable mishap or flaw," he said. "It's time now. I'll see you in two weeks." In one move, Beetee then put his hand on my shoulders and drew me in, and he gently kissed me on the corner of my lip.

It was like someone had sent a bolt of lightning to my heart, stopping it short. I didn't see it coming. I had no time to process it. He had cool lips, but they were so soft that I could barely feel the contact they made with my skin. What made it even more confusing, was after Beetee kissed me, he turned and left me beneath the airship as if he needed to leave my presence as quickly as possible.

What WAS that?

The hovercraft took about two hours to deliver us to the location of the arena, but, of course, none of us got to see it before being herded into individual suites beneath it to be dressed. Once dressed, we'd be sent up into the arena in tube-like elevators.

Aloysius' presence actually comforted me slightly as I tried to keep my mind focused on my first strategy: surviving the inevitable bloodbath. He styled my hair into a high ponytail, simple, functional, but also making me appear older than I was with my usual pigtails.

As for my arena uniform, it was a pair of very stiff hiking boots, heavy pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a light parka in the same shade of violet our training tunics had been. The parka was not very thick, but it was definitely built for a cooler environment.

"The boots are very sturdy, so I would guess your terrain won't have much grass. Maybe it's even a gorge, a mountain summit, or a cliff side," Aloysius mused. "The parka confuses me a bit. It's unusually light. A parka at all would mean a cold arena, but it's so light it wouldn't help you in a tundra or a blizzard. Plus if it were a cold arena, they'd give you thermal underwear, it's a standard. But they didn't in this case."

I was just as confused. The outfit was very bottom-heavy. I felt like one of those clown-shaped punching dolls that was weighted on the bottom so it would never fall over.

...never fall over…

"It might be rough terrain," I suggested. "One where balance is key."

Aloysius shrugged as he put the finishing touches on my outfit for the Games. Every second that passed, things became progressively more real. It was almost time to die.

Thirty seconds.

I walked towards the tube that was going to send me up into the arena. Before the door closed behind me, I turned back to Aloysius.

"Thank you," I mumbled. He smiled and nodded back.

"Remember to shine," he replied. "Show them that you're worthy of victory."

I heard a popping sound as the door shut and locked behind me. Suddenly, I was going up. Up and into the arena.

Get your bearings, I advised myself. Know your environment.

The tube was dark, and it seemed like an eternity passed as I was being sent upward. Miles and miles, it seemed. I braced myself as fifteen thousand thoughts went through my head every millisecond. The sweat was already forming on my brow.

I didn't expect the light to hit me so harshly. It made me realize how dimly-lit the basement of the arena had been. It wasn't even sunny.

In fact, it was raining when I emerged. Rather hard. At least finding drinkable water wasn't going to be a problem.

Twenty-four pedestals containing the twenty-four Tributes surrounded a large, rocky mound, atop of which was the Cornucopia. We would have to climb to get there. That was why we had hiking boots. My eyes darted around. Through the thick rain, I could see we were in a city…a city bombed to pieces. Some buildings still stood, but they were further back. The ground was covered in boulders, rocks, and broken glass. It was a good thing it was pouring…there would be no sources of fresh water to find anywhere. In spite of the rain, it was rather hot.

Around the rocky hill were scattered backpacks, small and inconsequential supplies, and some lumps of things I couldn't make out clearly.

A clock at the top of the Cornucopia began counting down from one minute. Each second was a full minute unto itself.

I looked around the circle of Tributes for Intel. I couldn't find him. On my immediate left was the girl from Two, Juno, looking poised and ready to pounce. On my right was the boy from Nine (his name I couldn't remember). He also seemed to be observing his surroundings, but with more outward and obvious fear.

Tatsuya was on the other side of Juno. Our eyes met for a moment, and I could have sworn he smiled and nodded at me. I got up the nerve to reciprocate with a small wave. Juno's head whipped towards me…did she think Tatsuya and I were allies and signaling to one another? Would she try and hunt me down with her twin brother first?

25…24…23…22…

I was going to run off into the arena.

21…20…19…18…

No. I was going to grab some supplies and get to a weapon. Surely they have a bostaff up there.

17…16…15…14…13…12…

No, run away.

11…10…9…8…

Oh god, this is it.

7…6…5…4…

I should try and grab something. Food might be hard to come by here.

3…

Run.

2…

Don't run.

1…

Go.

Beetee's Journal

Day One of the Games

Writing from one of the viewing parlors in the Training Center. Many of the Mentors end up camping out here until their Tributes fall. The elites and sponsors among the Capitol can view privately from here as well while hors d'oeuvres are constantly served. I still cannot understand how they can complain about the steak tartar while children are killing and dying on ten-foot screens above them.

Flickerman has gone over the arena for the viewers. They are in the ruins of Seattle in the Pacific Northwest. It has been suggested that the Gamemakers are going to be 'experimenting' with some new artificial weather-making equipment. There will be no natural food or water sources available.

Wiress is getting ready to emerge into the arena right now. My heart is with her right now. I hope my plan to send her messages will go unnoticed by the Gamemakers.

Technically, what I'm going to try is illegal.