Sorrel Harding, 13, D12F:

The teal-haired escort seems to be the only thing holding me together. In the past few days, my whole life has been turned upside down. I left the poverty of the orphanage, experienced the opulence of the Capitol, got a new haircut, developed a better attitude, learned and promptly forgot a whole bunch of survival skills, tried and failed to succeed with weapons, wore pretty clothes, performed for the Gamemakers, and was interviewed in front of the entire country. Dinner is a surprisingly arduous process. Neither Chip nor I have been able to eat a thing all day.

Our mentors are out and about, no doubt mingling with the Capitolites at the massive parties that are taking place tonight, trying to get us some sponsors. They've resorted to attempting to sign up intoxicated socialites, because despite Chip making a splash at the interviews, nobody's really interested in sponsoring us. As a result, the escort is watching us all by himself. He's young, and surprisingly nice. "Come on," he says, offering us yet another dish. "I know you're nervous but you have to eat something. I don't want you to go hungry and wake up in the middle of the night. No, you need food and rest. I know it sucks, and I'd put you on the train and send you right back home if I was allowed to, but you're going into the arena tomorrow. The Hunger Games are not an optional activity."

I still don't accept the plate. No matter how tantalizing the lamb chop might look, it won't be so good for me later on. Earlier I dared to try having some bread, but even that made me vomit. "I can't eat this," I apologize.

"Could I get you something that's not so seasoned? I bet we have plain toast for you to eat. Would you be able to stomach that?"

"Probably not. I already tried, and I threw it all up." I shove the platter a few inches away from me.

"I'm sorry. I hate being sick too. Is there anything else I can do to help you?"

"No, not really. Thanks for offering, though."

"Chip, is there anything you'd be able to eat?"

"No." Chip looks as miserable as I am.

"In that case, find some fleece pajamas and meet me back here in five minutes. I'm going to show you the videotape of the last Quarter Quell." Fleece pajamas sound good, and in the closet, I discover what's essentially an enclosed blanket with attached footies so I can walk. There aren't even any sleeves. I climb into it and return to the couch, where the escort is. Chip has also beaten me there, and located the same garment as me. As the escort uses the remote to set up the television, I cuddle into his side.

"I'm just scared for tomorrow. What if my allies die? What if I die?" The escort responds by wrapping an arm around me and smoothing my hair.

"I'm your escort, kid. I'm going to do everything I can to keep you alive. I'll wrangle your mentors into shape and get as many sponsors as possible. You're going to be fine, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen to you."

Even his comfort can't fully erase my fears.

Griffin Jagger, 17, D11M:

The escort is gone again, off to try to get me some last-minute sponsors. Soya is stewing in her room, irritated at the Capitol, and I'm all alone in the apartment, so I decide to visit Ardledge in his suite. Griffin-the-mentor greets me at the door, and I'm proud to say it seems to cause Lyra-Rose great distress. "How is he allowed to invade my space every day?" she pouts to nobody in particular. Ardledge is having dinner and invites me to fill a plate, it's some kind of fish with a sweet and sour sauce poured over it. I wonder if the fish was caught in Ardledge's home district.

It's been a pretty dull day, but now I'm grateful for the lack of structure. I want my last night in the Capitol to be my own, some time to relax before the hustle and bustle of tomorrow. Fear isn't an emotion I can afford to give in to. At this point in time, I've done all I can to be prepared. My sole goal is getting in and out of the Bloodbath quickly so that my alliance will be safe. An alliance is a tenuous thing in the Hunger Games, but I think mine is better than most. It's good and stable, but Ardledge and I bear the extra responsibility of taking care of the younger tributes. I can't help but question my capability as a source of protection. Then again, what other choice is there? What other choice do I have when my allies are in danger except to rise up in their defense?

I don't get to be picky, but I wish my own mentor wasn't so horrible. Griffin-the-mentor is good at what he does and will help to get me whatever I need, but he's only one man, and he has to focus on Ardledge first. Ardledge, who digs into the flaky fish next to me, is amazing. He's managed to keep two thirteen year olds and a twelve year old from worrying about the Hunger Games. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to be able to apply that same talent to himself. He's been stressing nonstop. My mind wanders to my mother who's undoubtedly also been stressing nonstop. She needs me to come home. I want to be able to reunite with her, and I have to win the Hunger Games. Honestly, my problem isn;t about surviving. It;s just about not dying, staving it off until I'm the only tribute remaining.

I don't think it makes it easier to frame it like that, but it's the best strategy I can come up with. I'm not a planner, I fly by the seat of my pants. I regularly mess up over and over again until I find what works, but that trial and error strategy won't work here. Any mistake could become my doom. No, if I just focus on living another day, maybe it'll be easier, maybe I actually have a chance.

But only maybe.

Soren Ventra, 15, D3M:

I'm already starting to regret not training for the Hunger Games at all. I angered the Capitolites at the Tribute Parade, I scored a zero, I got booed off the stage tonight. People here don't like me much. I'm not a fan of them either, but the arena isn't really a concern for me. Pola and Zea are there to catch me if I happen to fall, and besides, I can't wait to prove Sage wrong about me. He's a terrible mentor, always off to talk to sponsors or trying to give me advice. He only won last year, what does he possibly know that could be of any importance?

The biggest upside to entering the Hunger Games tomorrow is that I won't have to suffer through the foolish escort's lectures or my terrible prep team trying to bathe me, or the stylist who gives me the dumbest things to wear. The only person I might miss a little is Hortensia, just because she let me mostly do what I felt like with no consequences whatsoever. The people here are just like Miss Marlowe and Matron, they love their pointless little rules about respect, political correctness, hygiene, neatness, manners, and following of proper procedure. I hate the Capitol, with all its glitz and glamor and frilliness. Are those even adjectives anymore? They could very well be names of kids from District One! People are just so stupid when it comes to ettiquette, and cleanliness, and even naming children. It feels like I'm the only person left who has a brain. It's bad here, the other tributes are annoying, the support teams chatter through the night, and there are always servants waiting to invade my personal space or tribute attendants who want me today please and thank you and wash behind my ears.

Perhaps if I was a giant pile of diamonds, they'd actually respect me. Nothing except money has any value to them, and I hate the government in particular, President Mikhail most of all. If I die in the arena (which I won't), then I'll make sure that my last hurrah delivers a last kick in the teeth to the Capitol and all the moronic stuff that goes down in it. Embarrassing the President himself, plus his beloved Head Gamemaker who's the puppet master behind all the death and killing to come, would be an excellent way to go. I didn't come here to be popular, I didn;t want to come here in the first place, but as long as I don't have a choice in my presence, I'm going to kick up as much of a fuss as I can.

What can they even do, kill me?

Radley Allaway, 17, D9M:

I'm sure my family is worried sick about me. My parents and Auntie Tamsin and Rodney and Dara are going to wring their hands all night long. A couple years ago, one of the neighbor kids got Reaped. She died in the Bloodbath, but the night before the Games, we held a sort of vigil, hoping that, against all odds, we wouldn't have to see her die. Her end wasn't especially gruesome, but it was horrible to watch. I sometimes ran into her near the river, when she was fetching water. I might have spoken to her on only a handful of occasions, but the anxiety of knowing she could die was the worst feeling ever. My family is probably going to be reliving that, but much more sharply.

I want to tell them that I'll be fine, but there's no way to do that, so I have to be content with sitting alone in my room. Maeve, my mentor, Shiloh, Zea's mentor, and Phoebus, the escort, left a few minutes ago to get some more sponsors for us, leaving us in the apartment with no adult supervision. I pick up Auntie Tamsin's journal and thumb through it for the millionth time. It can't be my token, I'll have my flower crown for that, but I want to pick it over for extra scraps of information one more time. I have to depend on my memory in the Hunger Games, which is not going to be fun, but I think I can handle it.

The main problem with the Hunger Games is that the Gamemaers never see a tribute who's successfully built a good camp, has a store of food, and is living it up in some distant corner of the arena and think 'hmm, we should leave him be.' Instead they throw mutts and traps his way to constantly keep him on his toes. There's no way to get comfortable, you have to stay awake for long periods of time, always be on the lookout for danger, carry a weapon everywhere you go. I don't do so well with sleep deprivation.

Fear has a funny way of closing in on me, and I'm trapped before I even realize what's happening. I'm going to die, probably, and my family might never see me again. I have a very low chance of survival now that Rafe is on the hunt, and he's undoubtedly especially upset that I got a higher score than him. I have a target on my back, and so do my allies. What happens if they throw me to the Careers to save themselves? Jenna's too honorable to do such a thing, but Elle would have no such qualms.

My fate isn't yet sealed, though, and I still have time left to improve my situation. And later on, Quinten's as well.

Harry Striffer, 16, D8M:

Quinten and I hit it off when we were working at the same station yesterday morning, and we decided to ally with one another for safety. That way, we have a better chance of surviving, since we can team up against attackers. The second I noticed him watching Radley, it was painfully obvious that he had a crush on him. Radley doesn't seem very interested, but he also doesn't seem to mind, which means there's still hope. I haven't had any luck with love. None of the boys I tried to interact with seemed to care that I was flirting with them. The only viable suitors I haven't attempted to pick up are Quinten and Radley, because there's an attraction on at least one side of things and meddling with someone else's love life is just kind of a dick move.

Unfortunately, I learned right away that District Six isn't nearly as chill as District Eight when it comes to being gay. Quinten has this very warped perspective that it's automatically a horrendous offense against the world at large to be gay, and beliieves that any punishemtn or abuse he's suffered because of it is therefore warranted. I couldn't imagine a world where adults hit kids, let alone beat them because they hugged someone else. District Six seems like a very harsh place to grow up, and from freezing up at the interviews to panicking when his escort tapped his shoulder from behind, it's clear that he's been exposed to sme pretty screwed up stuff.

The arena is going to be nightmarish for sure, and I might not survive, but I still think there's time left for a miracle to occur, for someone to fall in love with me. I wonder if Quinten and Radley will end up together, and I hope so, because we could all use a little happiness, and besides, the Capitolites like a good romance. Whatever the case, tomorrow is going to be a tough day, between the Careers in the Bloodbath and whatever other adversity I'll face in the arena, but I have to last through it.

I have to fulfill Grandmother's wish for me to win and find my person before her illness catches up to her.

Quinten Aramdale, 17, D6M:

The interviews today were absolute torture. I hate talking to, or in front of, people, so it was a struggle to stay calm onstage. I lost my footing on the way up, messed up everything I was planning on saying, and got laughed at by both the Capitolites and my fellow tributes. The worst part, though, was during Radley's interview. He talked about discovering that he has a secret admirer, and I'm pretty sure I gave it away that it was me. It's obvious he knows, though, and he'll surely hate me for it. Boys aren't supposed to have romantic or sexual inclinations towards other boys. Ever. That was something Mrs. Wallstone never tolerated. Affection between boys was strictly forbidden in the Wallstone household, resulting in punishment via a beating with a rolling pin, walking stick, broom, or whatever other object that could be used to hit us. It was the only time I was grateful to be shunned by everyone else, so much so that I was nowhere near the vicinity when occasional raids were conducted to make sure we weren't doing anything scandalous on the premises, like hugging, high fiving, or giving shoulder pats. Those were bad things, and I knew to stay away from the people who engaged in them.

According to Harry, my new (and only) ally, Mrs. Wallstone is a liar, District Six failed me, high fiving is not supposed to be a sexy activity, and there's nothing wrong with liking other boys. He said that plenty of people were like that in District Eight, who were attracted to people of the same gender. He called it being gay. Apparently he's been being gay his whole life, and his grandma is alright with it, which is just plain strange. He wants to fall in love, but apparently most of the boys here are either Careers or ugly.

I didn't tell him about Radley, but he figured it out right away. We ended up at a station together and decided being friends was better than being alone, and now at least there's someone who can help me stay alive a little longer. It's strange to be around a person who's never experienced the cruelty of District Six, but maybe it's a good thing. He'll hopefully be able to help defend me when Radley inevitably tries to kill me, because no matter what Harry says, people are not supposed to be nice to us. Bad thoughts make us bad people, and Radley is probably mad at me for destroying his carefully put together image by giving myself away as a heathen. What other reason would he have to mention it other than foreshadowing his intentions to do away with me? I really really like him, maybe even love him, but he's too good to approve of me, and I won't be surprised if I die at his hands tomorrow in the Bloodbath.

I probably deserve it anyway.

Hey y'all!

The Hunger Games will begin very soon, and the last chapter tonight, which will be out by 9:00 PM Pacific Standard Time, is going to be about the tributes on the morning of the first day of the Hunger Games. There will be a couple more chapters after that, when the tributes are in the launch rooms and such, but the Bloodbath is getting closer and I'm just so excited it's finally almost here! I'm sad I'm back to school tomorrow and I won't be able to write nearly as often, but I can start following a more consistent update schedule in May. My summer break begins just before June, so I'll have a ton more time to write, and I have another project coming during summer that I'm also looking forward to! I'm truly thrilled to have made it this far with all of you, and I'm feeling really sappy right now, so like, I love y'all, and it's so great to write this stuff!

– LC :)