The sun is at the top of the sky; it must be around noon. By the time it sinks below the horizon, I'm still shaking. The arena is starting to get colder at night; sleep does not come easily. The anthem shows no deaths. Below me, on the forest floor, torch-bearing tributes can be seen making their way back to the Cornucopia. I know they can't see me, but I still feel so exposed, even in the branches of my tree. "If you didn't know how to climb trees," I muse to myself, "you would be captured, or dead." A clank next to me indicates that I've received my first sponsor gift. I smell the food before I can even open the lid. A full meal lies before me. Chicken, biscuits, and a small flask of gravy. I dig in, finally realizing how hungry I am. Sleep doesn't come easily; I spend most of the night listening to the leaves of the tree brushing together in the wind. The smallest noise makes me reflexively grip the knife I hold in my hand tighter. I will not die in a tree. Or in this arena, for that matter. Soon, exhaustion wins out over fear, and I drift into another dream.
It's a few hours after the tribute interviews. Sydni and I are sitting with our mentors in the TV room of our suite, watching the recaps of the interviews. There is total silence as we watch the different tributes. The girl from 5 is loud and shows no signs of shutting up. She continues talking even after the buzzer sounds and Mordecai, the host of the Games, is forced to herd her off the stage himself. The boy from 5 never looks up from his lap. He answers the questions quickly and simply; he appears to want to be anywhere except on that stage. "He's cute," Sydni says as the boy from 7 mounts the stage. "Quiet!" snaps Deserai in her raspy voice. "Your job is to kill him, not talk about his eyes or hair!" Sydni crosses her arms and sinks back into the couch. Deserai is a good mentor; she's mentored five of the victors in our district. Her only fault is a serious lack of emotion, probably brought on by years of watching kids kill each other. The girl from 7 is up next. She's tall and you can see how tight the skin is around her cheekbones. Most districts don't get enough food, apparently. Cato must be reading my thoughts, because his next comment is on the importance of food. "These tributes have one advantage over you: they know what true hunger is. You have eaten well your whole lives. But once you get into the arena, you will realize that three meals a day just isn't going to happen. Ration out whatever food you have." The girl from 9 looks awful. Her pale skin still shows up underneath her makeup, and she looks the weakest and frailest out of all the tributes. It's only after the girl from 10 mounts the stage that Cato notices I've been staring at Sydni for a while. He grabs my arm forcefully and pulls me off the couch. Sydni and Deserai watch dumbfounded as Cato drags me out into the hallway. He slams me up against a wall and says, "Don't you dare fall in love, boy. Don't you dare." He pauses, apparently searching for more words, but no more come. A single tear starts to form in his right eye, but he wipes it away before it can fall. He lets his hands drop off my shoulders and fall to his sides. Then he shuffles past me back into the TV room. I remember hearing about Cato's games. The girl from his district…Clove. That was her name. I stare after Cato, realizing that even the strongest competitor in the Games has a soft spot. Spot. Spotted.
"Spotted him! I've spotted him!" The voice reaches my ears long before I realize what it means. When I finally do understand, I lean over the side of the tree to see a group of the tributes that have been hunting me standing underneath the tree. The girl from 5, the one who wouldn't shut up, is pointing and exclaiming loudly, "There he is! There he is!" I move back quickly and pull out a knife from my backpack. This is going to turn into a fight. But before I can make a plan, I hear branches rustle behind me. I whip around quickly, just in time to see the boy from 7 swinging a heavy stick at my head. Everything goes very black very quickly.
