Landon Meddel, 16, District 8

Alastair has Gabrielle and me sit on chairs in front of his own and just looks at us for a while. I don't mind not talking. It hadn't seemed possible to feel any worse than I did two days ago, but last night's showing of our absolutely dismal training scores did the trick. With no skills, no allies, and now definitely no sponsors, the slim door of hope that we would return home seemed even slimmer.

"The interviews are your last chance to snag sponsors," Alastair finally says. "But what you need is a spectacular showing. Now, you haven't been anything too spectacular so far. Most people that I've contacted are talking about Shimmer Argent and her eleven, but there are some people, some who are interested in you. More specifically, they're talking about your Reaping.

"Landon, you made a statement that day by volunteering. You were completely candid about your emotions for Gabrielle in that moment, and so everyone watching knew why you'd volunteered. That kind of thing doesn't easily disappear from people's minds. It just needs a bit of encouraging.

"So here's what we're going to do," he continues, leaning forward and placing his hands on the arms of his chair. "Your love is the only thing that you have, so we're going to use it. When you're on camera, you're nothing but lovers. When you're up on that stage, you're all over each other. When Caesar Flickerman asks you about yourselves, tell him everything. Tell him all the little juicy details, what you know that the audience wants to know. Tell them what you would want to know, if you were some rich Capitol romantic. How you met. What you like. Make them relate to you. Make them pity you. You're young and helpless. You need each other. Landon, you couldn't bear to just sit there and watch her die while there was this one thing that you could do for her. Gabrielle, you begged him not to put his life on the line for you at first, but truthfully you don't know what you would do if he wasn't here beside you. Be convincing. Be very convincing. Put on a show that will make them squeal."

"We… We're not just a show!" I stammer, suddenly angry. "What business is it of theirs what our relationship is like? Why let the entire nation in on our lives? Don't we get, I don't know, some privacy?"

"You're in the Hunger Games, kid!" Alastair's voice isn't all that loud, but it feels like he's shouting me down. "There is no privacy, not anymore, not if you want to survive! You need to give them a show that they will adore. Something that they'll sigh and gush about at home and that will give them the urge to do everything that they can to help the two poor lost souls. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, their cries will get so loud that they'll reach the ears of the Gamemakers. If they think that the only way to save the ratings of their Games is to let you both live, then they'll do so. Possibly. Probably. Whatever. It's the only thing that we have, right? You want to live, right?"

Gabby's hand is sweaty in mine. I glance at her. She looks scared. Yes, I want her to live. I want us both to live. And if this, this making our lives into this show could make that want into a reality, then…

I nod.

"Good," says Alastair. "Now, let's practice."

XXX

Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2

Thera and I step out of the elevator and walk over to Shimmer and Phenom. Her stylists have taken the crystal monster approach again with her, right down to the claw-like nails, while Phenom is in a suit. Maybe it's makeup, but he looks cold and calculating. Shimmer doesn't need any makeup to pull that off.

She looks us over as soon as we arrive, scrutinizing our features. I guess we pass, because she goes from looking serious to bored.

"Shimmer."

Lucas steps up next to me. It looks like he has just left his District partner, who's talking to the little boy from Eleven.

"That Eleven shrimp says that there's a party on the roof after the recap of the interviews," he says. "Apparently, Twelve is letting everyone come through their floor and use the shortest staircase."

"A party?" Shimmer says incredulously. "With those wimps? None of my pack's going."

She looks at each of us in turn, as though to reinforce her order. Her gaze lingers on me, like she expects me to disobey. Why me? I'm the strongest guy here, and I wasn't planning on going, anyway!

It will be nice when I don't have to deal with Shimmer Argent anymore.

Heck, it will be nice when the Games are over. We haven't even gotten into the arena, but I'm already tired. Tired of having to work up to someone's expectations. Back home, it didn't matter how well I did, I still had Hal.

Here, it's a lot harder.

XXX

Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1

I step forward to join Caesar Flickerman, whose color of the year is a very bright yellow. He appears to glow nearly as much as I sparkle in the lights above the stage.

"So, Shimmer, tell us a bit about yourself," says the famous interviewer. "How do you feel about tomorrow? Are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" I laugh. "Why would I be nervous, Caesar? I have the Games completely under my control."

"Really?" His eyes are so wide with surprise, it's comical. "Well, your training score seems to agree with you. E-lev-en! What did you do in there, anyway?"

I grin, baring my teeth viciously. "Why don't you guess?" I say, flexing my fingers. The cameras zoom in on my crystal nails as I mime clawing something—or someone—in front of me. The audience titters.

"Your stylists have done quite the job with your outfit," says Caesar. "You're like a star, shining in the spotlight. Don't you agree?"

This last statement is directed towards the audience, which shouts agreement. The cameras pan over our stylists, and I frown as I watch them smile on the screen. I don't like the focus shifting to them. This is my show.

"Yeah, they've done all right, I guess," I say. "But listen up. I don't need a sparkly suit to turn me into a star. I am a star, Caesar. I'm the most deadly star that you'll ever see. I'm on the verge of supernova. Push me wrong, get in my way… The last thing that you'll ever see is my fury. Remember that."

"Oh, I'll be sure to," Caesar says. "Now, Shimmer, we're almost out of time, but I'm sure that the one thing we'd all love to know is just what makes you so certain of yourself. What keeps you going?"

I grin again, and a few people near the front of the audience shudder and look nervous, while others look absolutely gleeful at my viciousness.

"I keep myself going," I say, my voice a low snarl. "I am in charge of myself. I am in control of the situation. In these Games, I am the one in command. And nobody, nobody can challenge me on that."

The buzzer sounds, right on cue after I finish speaking. The crowd goes crazy with applause, and I return to my seat, satisfied. I pass Phenom, who glares. I just stare back in response, and then I sit to watch the rest of the interviews.

My pack mostly strides around and flexes their muscles. Unimaginative, but effective. Ashley, Lucas's partner, is a nervous wreck on-camera. The rest fare about the same as her. They attempt to put on an angle. A few go for nasty and cruel, but they look weak next to me. Some try to appear intelligent, but they just look foolish. None look so foolish as those who try for the bubbly, excited appearance, which is just plain silly. Who would want to sponsor a ditz? The Sevens are intimidating, but to a child, not to me. The lovebirds of District Eight gush and sigh and swoon until I feel like puking.

Kayla Rakkor, the half-lame girl from District Nine, is actually almost interesting to listen to. Caesar asks her about her leg, and she launches into a story about falling out of a tree when she was little and foolishly trying to hunt squirrels. Her speech is rhythmical, like poetry, and very descriptive. As she talks, I can almost see the tree, and the child putting her weight on a branch that could never hold her, and as she falls, I hear the air moving quickly past her until she hits the ground—

Snap out of it! What on earth are you thinking, Shimmer? Keep up your guard!

It's my father's voice shouting at me, and I agree with it. I cannot afford to drop my defenses. Even a momentary lapse could be fatal.

Bergamot attempts to make himself look strong and noble by talking about his home, and how he helps his family and that of his girlfriend survive by hunting extra hours. A few idiots actually buy it, but not as many as that adored the lovebirds, and certainly not as many as me. The Tens are nothing to speak of—Another ditz. As if shyness and cuteness will get you anything in the arena. Disgraceful.—but it's almost amusing to watch Anise Leenan of District Eleven simply refuse to respond to any of Caesar Flickerman's questions. She just stands there, staring out at the audience with a completely blank face as Caesar asks about herself, and how she likes the Capitol, and what she thinks that her strengths will be in the arena.

"How about your parents, Anise?" he says, clearly desperate to keep the crowd interested. "What does your father do for a living?"

"He works in the fields," says Anise, surprising everyone, most of all the audience, by actually speaking. "I work beside him."

"I see," says Caesar. "And your mother?"

Anise seems to get even more stony than before. "My mother is dead," she says.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," says the interviewer.

Anise turns to look right at him.

"Don't be," she says. "I'm the one who killed her."

Chaos. Complete shock and pandemonium in the audience. The cameras pan over the tributes, trying to catch all of their reactions. Most look shocked or nervous, while Thera looks skeptical and I look rather bored. The Sevens exchange confident glances, probably having labeled her as a target already. Kayla looks pensive. The only one who doesn't have an expected reaction is her partner, Briar. He's looking out over the crowd and tapping his feet, as though listening to some merry tune in his head. It's like he hasn't heard a thing.

He must have known.

Caesar tries to get details out of Anise, but she has shut up once more. The buzzer sounds, and he has no choice but to send her back to her seat.

XXX

Briar Tussen, 12, District 11

It'll be difficult to get a good reaction out of the crowd at this point, while they're so distracted, but I'd expected this. Caesar wants to ask me about Anise's final, well, her only statement, I know, but I don't want to answer it.

"Hiya, Caesar!" I say as I walk up to him with a bounce in my step.

"Hello, Briar," he replies. "What an interesting pre-game this has been."

"I'll say!" I reply. "For one thing, I'd like to have a word with whoever designed the showers."

"Oh? Why is that?" Caesar asks.

"Well, first off, they could put the buttons closer to the floor," I say, reaching my hands up as high as they will go as I do so. "I haven't hit my growing spurt yet."

The audience chuckles.

"Hmm," says Caesar. "I was a short guy like you, once. You'd never believe it now!"

"You're right. I don't. But let's get back to the showers."

Again, positive reaction from the audience.

"Change the Second!" I announce dramatically, striking an overly serious pose that has people laughing. "Label the buttons. It took me forever to find the right one…after jumping as high as I could, of course!" I pause to let them enjoy, and then go on. "Tell me the truth, Caesar. Am I still dyed green?"

I turn all around so that he can look me over, while the audience guffaws. Caesar assures me that I look fine, and I sigh with relief.

"So, Briar," says Caesar. "It seems that you're the life of the party back home. How many siblings do you have?"

It's the perfect segue into the next part of my act.

"Just one," I reply. "I have a little sister. Her name is Anthea, and, believe me, she's the real life of the party!"

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it's so! Hey, Thea! You watching?" I call. The audience laughs.

"Do you remember what I promised you, Thea?" I say. "I promised you a song. Well, here it is!

"I know a little monkey, and her name's Anthea

You're certain to love her the minute that you see-ah!

She's got a little dance, and she's got a little twirl,

She's my extra-special, little monkey sister girl!"

I'd thought up a dance to go along with the words and the tune, and the audience joins Caesar in applauding me when I finish.

"I think that we have time for one more question, so here goes," says Caesar.

"Bring it on, Caesar!" I say. The crowd hoots.

"We know that you don't like the shower set-up," he paused to let the audience chuckle agreement. "But what's been your favorite thing about your stay at the Capitol so far?"

"Getting off the train!" I say without hesitation.

"Really? You don't like train rides?" Caesar asks.

"Are you kidding?" I reply. "Spending nearly two days in the company of someone with only one facial expression? Come on!"

The cameras focus on Anise's ever-blank face, and the audience dissolves into laughter that's so loud that I almost don't hear the buzzer. Caesar waves me back to my seat, and I grin and wave at the audience as I go, very pleased with myself.

XXX

Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4

I slip out into the hallway after the interview recap, not saying anything to anyone about where I'm going. It doesn't really matter if they know. It's not like I can escape the Training Center.

Briar said something about a party on the roof. The building is much too tall for me to take the stairs, but Dally promised that her floor would be open for partygoers to use as a transit. I step into the elevator and press the number twelve. My hand is trembling; I ball it into a fist to stop its quake. Briar was right to schedule a party. We all need one.

The elevator doors open again, but on the tenth floor. Dawn and her District partner, Luis, step on, and she gives me a little smile.

"A party, huh?" she says. I shrug. We spend the rest of the short elevator ride in silence.

Dally is waiting for us.

"Glad you could come," she says, like this was just a get-together at her house. "The stairs are right down the hall. Go on and join the others; I'll wait here to see if anyone else is coming."

The three of us head down the hallway, which looks just like the one on my floor, and then we climb up a short flight of stairs and out onto the roof.

"Ashley!" Briar calls, running up to me.

"Hi, Briar," I reply, looking around the roof. There's an Avox, one of the silent servants, standing by a table with drinks, on the opposite side of the roof from the gardens. The group is pretty small. There's maybe twelve of us up here, counting me, Dawn, and Luis. As I look around, I realize that I've memorized more names and faces than I'd meant to. Tam Penemue and Moira Jemsom from District Five are over by the drinks, Moira organizing the glasses into straight rows. Erit Byrne from Three, for once not shadowed by his partner, is trying to start a conversation with Bergamot Palentia from Nine, who doesn't look like he's in much of a talking mood. Erit gives up and limps over to Bint Westley, Dally's partner, passing Kayla Rakkor, Bergamot's partner, who's sitting on the floor and watching the others. Off at the far end of the roof is Anise Leenan, Briar's partner, who's staring off into the distance.

"I don't think anyone else is coming," Dally says, coming up behind us.

"That's okay," says Briar. "Isn't this the perfect place for a party? There's space, free refreshments, a great view, and even music!"

He's right about the music, definitely. I think the Capitol is having a city-wide party at the same time as us. As for the view, it's all right, I guess. There are more buildings than I'm used to, but the sky stretches out forever. There's also a sunset. I try to compare it to the sunsets back in District Four, but it's hard to remember. Maybe they're just the same, after all.

Disappointing…but at least this is something that the Capitol can't do better. There's some good in that, I guess.

Dawn and Luis leave to check out the drinks, and Dally suggests that we watch the crowd below.

"Hey, Rosethorn!" someone calls just as we agree. The three of us turn to see Kayla waving for Briar to come closer.

We walk over to Kayla, who lowers her voice as she continues. I can't help but notice that Bergamot is watching us very closely.

No, not us. He's watching Kayla.

"You should keep a better eye on your partner," Kayla says.

"Huh?" Briar looks over at Anise, who hasn't moved since I last looked at her. "Anise? Why?"

"She's crying," says Kayla.

Dally and I glance at Anise, and then at each other, not seeing any such emotion from the girl's back.

"Are you sure?" Dally asks. Kayla nods solemnly.

"Oh, no," Briar moans. "Was it the joke about her facial expressions? I didn't mean anything by it! I mean, it was funny, right? The crowd enjoyed it…"

"Maybe," says Kayla. "Or maybe…" Her voice trails off as she thinks. Briar keeps glancing back at Anise, looking upset. Dally and I just stand there, not sure what to do. And Bergamot's still just watching…

Kayla comes out of her thoughtful reverie and looks up at the three of us. She sighs.

"Well, give me a hand up, then!" she says, holding out her arms. I grab one and Dally grabs the other, and together we pull her to her feet. She's actually pretty light, and her arms seem strong. She awkwardly balances herself with her weight on her good leg as we let go of her, and then she limps off towards Anise. The three of us hesitate, but follow her, keeping at a safe distance, however.

"Anise," Kayla says, stopping right behind the girl from District Eleven. There's no response. Kayla steps up beside her, looking out into the distance, towards the setting sun.

"Big day tomorrow," she says. "For some of us, this will be our final sunset."

Why bring that up? I think, her words cutting something in me. Of course we're going to die. Why bring it up, when she's already crying? If she's crying. I still don't see it.

Then again, she just admitted to killing her mother. Death must not be all that scary of a concept to her.

"But still," Kayla continues. "Whatever happens, in the end we'll be safe. Good and safe, where no one can hurt us, or challenge us, or force us to face the deep, dark things that make us fear. We'll be fine, Anise. You'll be fine."

Anise turns to face Kayla, and I'm shocked to see that there really are tears rolling down her brown face. Kayla smiles gently at her and reaches out a hand, wiping the taller girl's tears away and tucking her hair behind her ears. Anise's eyes close as Kayla's hand touches her face, looking comforted by the contact.

XXX

Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9

I've been lying in bed for a long time, so long that it must now be near midnight, but sleep still eludes me. This is bad. I need rest for tomorrow…but tomorrow is what's keeping me awake.

I give up my attempts at sleep and roll out of bed, limping out into the corridor. Everything is quiet and dark inside the Training Center, not at all like nighttime in District Nice, where there is always something awake and rustling through the trees, even if it is only the wind. This place is not awake. It feels dead to me.

Dead, like twenty-three teenagers will be soon. Twenty-three prey, caught in the jaws of the hunters.

I climb up the staircase, hoping that it will wear me out, but I'm still wide awake when I reach the roof. Out here, I can hear the music again, the music of thousands of Capitol citizens celebrating the beginning of our Games. I consider going back down, or going into the garden, but then I realize that I'm not alone up here. A lone figure is standing at the far edge of the roof. I cautiously approach him, emphasizing my limp as I do so, but then I see that it's just Bergamot.

"You can't sleep either?" I ask, stopping behind him.

"No, he replies, not turning around.

The hunter sits, unflinching,

He does not know surprise…

"Well, it will all be over soon, one way or the other," I say, trying to make a morbid statement sound optimistic. I'd done better with Anise up here earlier…but I'm still not entirely sure about what had happened between us.

"One way," says Bergamot, turning to face me. "But not the other."

and yet I see uncertainty

Inside the hunter's eyes.

"What are you saying?" I ask incredulously. "You've got more of a chance out there than I do."

"No, I don't," he replies. "I won't be able to score a kill without a bow, and there's no guarantee that there will even be one in the arena. Those two from District Seven could easily overpower me. That boy from Two could snap my neck like a twig. That District One girl has an eagle's aim, and she's sadistic enough to use it. No, the only way I'm going home is in a coffin. Tell Thalia that I love her, okay?"

He walks around me to go back downstairs.

It surprises me, to hear him talking like this. Bergamot Palentia, who I'd decided was a hunter and not prey like I was, was surrendering?

"You think that I'm going home?" I say in disbelief, turning towards him. He stops and turns just his head to show that he is listening.

"You think that this is going to save me?" I continue, tapping my faux lame leg. "All that I've managed to do is win pity, but not nearly as much as the District 8 lovebirds have, and I told the crowd an entertaining story. That's all! And you think that I'm going to get back to District 9 alive?"

"I know that you will," Bergamot says. "I know that you will get home alive, because you're the only one of us who has the mind for it. The day that you spilled that poem about knowing where people's hearts lay, I knew that you were special. You look right into people's souls. You see the world like no one else does. You analyze, you predict, and you know what's up. You accepted the Games when you were twelve and began practicing with your leg; you welcome the arena because you know that there is no alternative. You've seen the Victors. They're lost. Some have even gone insane. That won't happen to you, Kayla. It won't, because you're mentally ready. And because it won't, you'll win. Me? I won't last past the first time one of my arrows splits a person's skin. I know that. A target, an animal, and a person are three completely different things. I'm not right for the Hunger Games, but you are."

I'm "right" for the Hunger Games?

"Are you calling me a killer?" I demand.

"No," he says. "I'm calling you a Victor. You are the one true Victor, the one who will keep control over her own mind."

Again, he turns to leave.

I don't want him to go. I'm confused. I want to call him back and have him explain, to tell me how he can possibly think that someone who has been placed in the role of prey could win? I'm not meant to win. The odds aren't with me, like I'd convinced myself that they would be. I've realized that since I got to the Capitol. I'm not a hunter. I'm not a killer. I'm not a Victor. The world placed me as prey, and so I am the prey, Plan or no Plan.

Don't go, Bergamot…

"Iceburg!" I call out.

He stops and glances back at me, his shock evident. But now that I have his attention, I don't know what to say. There isn't even a verse in my head anymore.

"May the odds be ever in your favor, Iceburg," I say lamely.

"And may they ever be in yours," he replies. "Good-bye…Kay."

He goes back downstairs, and I wander through the garden for a long time, thinking, before doing the same.

XXX

"Are there any last-minute concerns?" the Head Gamemaker asks his team of designers. Most shake their heads confidently and automatically, while a few look thoughtful, and one raises a finger.

"Landon and Gabrielle," she says. "My contacts tell me that they have become so popular in the standings that viewers are hoping for both of their survivals."

"They won't last for long," the Head Gamemaker assures her. "They won't hold any attention for long, not with Anise's announcement to drive it out of their memories, and especially not with Shimmer on the prowl. You saw her face as well as I did during their interviews. She despises them with every fiber of her being. I'd be surprised if they even escape the Cornucopia."

"I'd be surprised if anyone escaped the Cornucopia," another man points out.

"I highly doubt that that scenario will occur," says the Head Gamemaker. "But there are the safeguards, just in case. You should know that, Varinius. After all, you designed them yourself."

"Of course I know about the safeguards," Varinius replies. "However, I make a habit of doubting my own abilities, so that I shall always be on the road to improvement."

"That may be," says the Head Gamemaker. "However, it is our job to be flawless. Perfect. Everything in that arena is under our control, and it shall remain that way. We decide how the Games shall end. The odds, as they say, are ever in our favor."

Murmurs of assent and agreement flowed through the room.

"To yet another Hunger Games," the Head Gamemaker says, lifting his wine glass in a toast to the others.

"To the Games," they answer, drinking.

XXX

A.N.: Here we go! We'll watch the beginning on the television, and then have some regular P.O.V. sections. Please forgive me if I cause the death of your tribute.

I don't know about you all, but I'm really excited! Let the Games begin!