Greetings, fellow martians. I've decided that, since I'm so lazy, I'll do this: Stack up chapters! I'll release three or four chapters a time, maybe every two weeks. (When I type it out, it sounds lame..) That being said, if it doesn't work, I'll go back to posting one chapter whenever I can (I usually write on weekends.) Please enjoy!


And here I was, thinking I was done with the prep team- But alas, they'd bustled in, chirping and smiling and twirling and gushing about how beautiful your dress will be, your hair is simply perfection, and even Do you think we should give her a shovel? That last one was a comment by Yamazen and no other, and he fully deserved the glare I gave him. I've been told that when I'm angry, my eyes- they're light brown- Grow so bright they're almost amber, so it looks like they're on fire. By his reaction the rumors are true; He wouldn't talk to me for the rest of the time I was there, unless it was to make a teensy comment on this or that or, of course, to say goodbye.

Some part of me- Deep down inside myself- Wonders if my fiery gaze, or even just my personality, could help me win the Games. I doubted the eye-trick would work on any self-respecting Career, or any other tribute for that matter, but it was an interesting theory; One that I stored away for later.

While I've been musing, my designers have been hard at work- stitching and cutting and measuring and rubbing me raw with all kinds of leather, cloth, and denim. My feet are sore and pink from all the shoes that have been smacked onto me and plucked off again.

In the back of my mind I envision what I look like, even though I know it's no use. I'm one of those people that has almost no creativity, and in the rare moments when it comes to me, whatever I'm thinking comes out completely different. I could of simply looked down, but some part of me- the little girl, I suppose- Didn't want to ruin the surprise, not just yet.

"Finished," A voice breathes behind me, and I recognize Elvira's low purr. She glides into my vision, her snake-tongue flickering in and out of her mouth- almost in excitement, it seems.

For some reason I suddenly can't move. I freeze, stiff as stone, until I hear a haughty- but approving- voice off to my left.

"Dimond really does know what she's doing, doesn't she. I told you so, Elvira. I told you so." Out of my mouth whooshes a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and I know that as much as the constant prattling of Yamazen makes my skin itch and my teeth grate, his approval is worth just as much as anyone else's.

"I suppose...District Ten, would you believe it? I never thought they had it in them." Elvira peers at me through her lashes with something like- fondness. Not once had I caught that look on her face, or even imagined it. It makes me abit light-headed when I force myself to remember that she's being kind because she has to- Because this may well be the last time she sees me.

"You'll make the Capitol proud, dear." I try not to bristle- That's what it is, isn't it? Impressing the Capitol? Earning fans? It really is difficult, but I force that thought down and let my gaze trail upwards to meet Nell's. "Thank you." I can't really tell whether she buys it.

They each send me their tightest smiles and shuffle out, leaving my stomach empty, my nerves raw, and my eyes burning. I swallow what I'm sure are tears and slide off the table myself, straightening. I can't- don't- look down, because I know my hands are shaking and so are my legs, both from fear and from the height of my shoes. I remember something I once read- One without fear is nothing but a fool- But it doesn't help, not really. If I'm not afraid, I'm a fool. If I am, it feels horrible anyway. What's the justification in that?

If Nell- Kind, quiet Nell- Is scared, I should be, too, I think, and even though I know that it doesn't fix anything, not really- That its nothing but an excuse- I try to take comfort in it. The true meaning of the words doesn't last, though; Never does. The fear only swallows it up all over again, sending a chill up my spine that makes me straighten and clench my fists as I stalk towards the door. It's silly, getting worked up all over a few people walking out of a room, but I can't help it. By the time I've opened the door, I feel tired and shivery, like I've just run a mile, but that's no matter to the Peacekeepers.

They lock one arm around each of mine, not roughly, but enough to let me know that they'd drag me if they had to. The notion is enough to clear my head and I tilt my chin up, blocking out the sounds of talking- of laughter- of happiness- until all I can hear is the dull thud of my heart, the rough breathing through their helmets, the soft thud of three pairs of boots against a plush carpet. My worries smooth over into something like determination.

"First floor, girl." It's like I'm watching one of those old movies, where the camera zooms in on the person's quivering finger as they press the button. Beep. I feel that light-headed spin, that drop in the stomach, that always occurs when I ride in elevators.

That is nothing compared to what I feel when the doors slide open.


The first people I can see are Dimond and Jangerine, with their multi-colored hair and flashing nails. The Peacekeepers' fingers uncurl from my arms but I'm already staggering towards them, ridiculously happy to see someone, or anyone, that I know. I catch Jonah, too, out of the corner of my eye, but he's busy trailing after Erika, who only sends me a cool stare before melting into the crowd. Jonah gives me a small wave, a smile, and disappears after her.

Jangerine sees me first, poking her orange-tipped head out over Dimond's shoulder and squealing. "Vale!" She totters towards me on skyrocketing heels, a wide grin on her face, bracelets jangling and teeth flashing and hair shining. It's almost enough to give me another headache, but maybe that's just my giddiness at seeing her there in the flesh.

I'm not the huggy-kissy type but I don't mind as she throws two arms around me, squeezing me close. "You look wonderful, love," She breathes, nearly shoving me backwards to scan me up and down with that twinkling gaze. "They really outdid themselves. Dimond, you really outdid yourself!"

I realize she's talking about me- my outfit- and look down. It seems stupid to me now that I hadn't even bothered to check out my outfit, but maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own mind, like when you read a book and all you can do is get lost in the pages.

"Oh.."

It's gorgeous- A denim dress, just like Dimond promised. But this is beyond anything that had popped into my head when I'd heard the words- I'd been imagining overalls, maybe those flouncy kinds that end in weird skorts instead of pants. My dress is different, though; Sleeveless, swirling all the way past my waste and down my back, swishing softly just at my ankles. The front is cut short, like a skirt, and I'm wearing boots; Stylish boots, not the rough combat ones I usually wear, all gold rings and dark leather that's so quality- so smooth and dark and perfect- that I feel something like homesickness, right in my gut. I could never make this kind of leather.

I pretend there's no room for that in my mind and instead continue to examine what I'm wearing. I don't know how I hadn't noticed, but Elvira, maybe Nell, had fitted gloves onto my hands- Smooth gloves made of the same dark brown leather as my shoes, so long they nearly cover my elbows. I love them- They hide my hands that have always been dry and gnarled from working leather and fur, my nails that are chipped and lined with black from so much dirt. You couldn't see any of that under these gloves.

Dimond had even kept good about her promise on the bells; Two of them hang around my neck, rich and gold, each as big as the nail on my pinkie. They're hung on a tight brown string so thin I'm afraid it will snap at the slightest nod of my head, but I like the pleasant sound they make when I move, like the school bells back at home. This time it's easier to push away the flood of memories that comes with thinking of my District.

My short hair has been styled in a sort of wild, rogue-ish way, more of a boy style then anything, but that's fine with me. The best thing about my outfit, I know, is the hat- My own. Even though I'd never say it out loud, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to know that my prep team went as far as letting me keep my talisman from home.

I look up, and my eyes must have been all misty or something, because Jangerine laughed and hugged me again. "Didn't they do a wonderful job? Didn't they?" She squeezes me one more time, then leans back to look me in the eye. "Wait till you see the others."

I give her a sort of brittle smile and nod. She pats me on the cheek and is gone in a shower of fleece and lace. I look behind her, panic welling in my throat- Where's Dimond?- But she's disappeared into the crowd, too. I guess I'm on my own.

I sort of shrink back as I really take in the room. I'd been too busy greeting Jangerine to take note of it before, but its absolutely filled with tributes from every District- Except for mine, it seems. District One where's crisp white suits and black ties that look good even on the girls- to a certain extent. The longer I look at them the more they remind me of Peacekeepers, and finally I avert my eyes to something else.

It's difficult to distinguish District Two from one, since they're just as much as Careers as the next, so I keep looking. District Four are dressed like pirates, the girls with fancy hats and feathers, white shirts tucked into fluffy black pants, leather jackets that only go down to their midsections, and shiny black boots rimmed with gold rings and laces. The boys are dressed the same, but their jackets sweep down to their knees.

When my eyes rest on the tributes of District Five, I resist the urge to laugh, or vomit, or both. They're dressed in gleaming one-pieces that are tight and pinched and bright blue belts with a corny lightning bolt right in the middle- for power, I suppose. Their boots are the same simple white as the rest of their shiny rubber suits, and the girls even have little glittering earrings in the shapes of thunderclouds. One of them glances over with a sort of arrogant smirk, like they think they look good, and I have to shift my gaze away as quickly as possible.

District Six are nothing special, so I skip on. Seven are dressed as lumberjacks- Dark red plaid, wide brown hats, and blue jeans. They look like cowboys, with their shirts tucked in and their faces smudged with dirt- Though I suppose their designers did that on purpose.

District Eight are dressed out in a colorful array of stripes and triangles and strings. Only their plastic bracelets aren't woven cloth, and their makeup is bright, the boys with bold eyeliner and glossed lips and the girls with black-and-pink eyeshadow that glitters and lipsticks that array from a natural pale to dark pink.

Nine are nothing special, probably because they're so poor- better off then Eleven, but worse then Ten by a long shot. None of the other Districts are worth checking out, not really.

None except mine.


I see Wylie first- She's dressed in all black, in the exact same outfit as me, except her denim is darker and so is her leather. The bells around her neck are silver, and her make-up is dramatic, with bold black eyeliner like Eight and black lips. It makes her look more pale, and a bit more scary, but I suppose that's the point. I know my own make-up is probably nothing but a little eyeliner, not nearly as bold as hers, and maybe some glossed lips. I'd told Dimond I hadn't wanted anything too loud, and I trusted her to listen.

The other tribute saunters towards me now, her hips swaying and eyes bright- It's easy to tell she's proud of her looks. When she's close enough, she calls a greeting, her voice so much cheerier then that first day she was reaped that I'm actually stunned.

"Heya, Vale. Sweet outfit- Twinsies, huh? I'm rocking this black." She holds up a gloved hand, her eyes glittering.

Karter shuffles into view, dressed similar to us, with a denim shirt that reaches his elbows, short gloves that only reach his wrists and are dark brown in color, and baggy pants. His boots are shiny and leather, the same color as his gloves. He has a single bronze bell at his neck, about the size of my thumbnail, and I can tell by his reddened cheeks that he's not too happy about it.

Wylie brushes a lock of jet-black hair from her face, laughing. "Ni-i-ice, Karter. The bell adds a little ring to it, don't you think?" His cheeks go redder and he frowns, stomping past her to stand by my side, ignoring her giggles. "Hey, Vale," He mutters.

I give him a little wave, then look away. We've never been close and I don't want to be- Especially since I might have to kill him. I shut that thought off as quickly as possible, tilting my head back and pretending to look at the sky; Really, though, I'm sucking back the tears.

Kyle melts from the shadows, and the first thing I notice are his eyes, lined in black. He has no other makeup on- not that I can see- but that's dramatic enough. He wears a denim shirt with the sleeves at his shoulders, frayed as if they've been ripped; His gloves are the same dark brown as Karter's. He wears jeans, too, and black boots mounted with spikes at the sides. He actually looks scary, and it doesn't help when he brushes right past me, standing almost stiffly beside Wylie.

She doesn't say anything either, which half surprises me and half doesn't. I'm mulling over what's his deal when a horn calls- Loud and blasting, so sudden that I stagger backwards with a yelp.

"It's time. Good luck." I'm too confused to ask what she means, and by the time I look up again she's gone- into a jet-black carriage painted with a bold bronze right on the door. Wylie glides in like she's been born to ride, resting one hand on the railing- casually- And the other at her side, as if she's prepared to do a lot of waving. She looks confident, but even from here, she's pale.

"See ya, Vale," Karter murmurs, and sweeps after her.

I feel panic rise in my chest, tingling in my fingers and my arms and my neck, and I open my mouth to call out after him, but nothing comes out- All I can do is stare, dumbfounded, as he steps into the chariot. There's the snap of a whip, a whine of horses, and the chariot pulls away.

I don't know what's happening, or where they're going. That panic expands, multiplying tenfold, and my head whips around. "Huh?" Is all I can squeak. Karter's eyes snap to something in the distance, and before I know it he's pulling me towards it, hissing words into my ear- "Move!"

I'm still confused. My head swims and my limbs feel heavy, like things are going in slow motion. Then I feel something sting my palm, and my vision snaps back into focus- Karter's still dragging me towards the..The chariot! He's dragging me towards the chariot, his nails biting into my palm.

"Come on!" His eyes are dark and serious. "We're going to miss it."

All that confusion drops into my stomach, replaced by fear- cold and quick, shooting up my spine to tickle my neck. I can feel the knots in my stomach, the ones that I'd thought had unraveled, tighten up all over again; I know where we're going, what the horn was for, and all the chariot-business- Because I've seen it on my little screen back home so many times, countless tributes riding away into the sunlight.

The parade is beginning, but this time, it's not on some digitalized screen- It's us. Us stepping into the chariot, us joining hands, and us raising them above our heads as I've seen so many others do. I don't have time to register the sour feeling in my mouth that means I might be about to throw up, or how sweat makes my grip on Kyle's hand loose and clammy, or that my knees are shaking badly enough that I think I might fall right through the open doors.

There's no time for any of that. A cry sounds in my ears and the chariot surges forward.


I'd like to thank Guest for that wonderful comment about my writing! It really lifts my day when I see stuff like that, people complimenting me or even showing me how I could be better. I tell you, guys, having a review is like the present of the year to us authors. (NOT THAT YOU SHOULD ONLY REVIEW ONCE A YEAR!)

Feel free to send me a PM on absolutely any ideas about this story, from characters to arenas to plots. Even just to say hi. You know I love you guys 3

Souls, out!