Endure

by lind91

AU 3rd QUARTER QUELL/75th HUNGER GAMES -Juniper Ainsley is horrified about the changes announced by President Snow for the 3rd Quarter Quell. She's even more horrified when her name is drawn on Reaping Day. Forced to leave District 7 to fight for her life, can she endure the special, sinister, bloody arena? And what happens when she gets on a monstrous Career's bad side?(SLOW BURN)

5. Chapter 4: Departure

~Chapter Four: Departure~

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"Oh, why did people have to be separated before they understood how much they meant to each other?" ― Linda Crew, Children of the River

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I felt numb as the Peacekeepers escorted me out of the Justice Building and towards two vehicles stationed nearby that would take us to the train station.

I had barely managed to wipe my tears away and find a few seconds to attempt to compose myself before they'd come for me. I clenched my jaw, staring at the ground a few feet in front of me as they escorted me. I knew there were still cameras about everywhere, and a lot of the crowd was still present, but I refused to look at anyone.

I didn't want to look weak, but right now I knew I still couldn't be composed enough to look at anyone directly.

We reached the vehicle, and the back door was yanked open. I climbed inside at the rough urging of the nearby Peacekeeper (not like I had a choice). I settled back against the car seat, taking a shaky breath.

Autumn slid into the seat next to me. I didn't look at her. I couldn't look at her.

I'd never been in a car before, and the slight jolt as it started up and rolled away from the Justice Building, as well as the crunching of the ground beneath its wheels and the vibrations of the car in motion, were unsettling to me.

I try my best to compose myself during the short ride. We weren't free of the cameras yet, I knew. At some point, I supposed I would have to be presentable for them and act like I wanted to see the people from the Capitol, like I wanted them to like me. But it was still too new, too raw, and I still felt too broken inside to force that just yet. So, for now, I spent the minutes practicing as neutral of an expression as I could, now that I had the time to try to pull it off. Part of me still felt numb, so it made it easier.

We arrived at the train station and I was glad I'd spent my time practicing my neutrality; there were quite a few cameras there. We were practically dragged out of the cars onto the train station. The entrance to the train itself—sleek, silver, and imposing—was a short distance away. We were ushered in that direction but then forced to stop and turn when we neared it so the cameras could capture some more shots of us.

The two boys (men?) were a few feet away from us. Benjamin was giving the cameras a short wave, looking like he was trying to smile, but not overly successfully (though admittedly it was far better than I'd be able to do). Rudd had an open scowl on his face as he glared around. Autumn was trembling next to me, probably about to cry again.

I stayed neutral, trying my hardest not to picture my family and fighting down a wave of grief that followed. I attempted to glance around, eyes not really lingering on anything as if I was disinterested, though I was sure the clench of my jaw and the way my fists were balled at my sides told a different story.

Then we were ushered in the train, and the doors slid shut behind us. We walked down a short hallway that opened up into a large, luxurious train car. Before I could focus on the interior of the car, though, we started moving. The train set in motion, gathering speed at an alarming rate. Soon the landscape outside was whizzing by faster than I thought possible. It was unsettling, and almost made me nauseated. The blur of trees rushing by did not match the steadiness of the floor beneath me. If I closed my eyes, I wasn't even sure I'd know we were moving.

It was jarring.

"Come on, come on, sit down! There's plenty of space –this car is meant specifically to sit and chat!" The grating voice reminded me that Minodora was with us, and that I'd be spending a lot of time with her over the next few days. I'd almost rather be in the Arena.

She gestured at the four of us, who were still grouped somewhat awkwardly near the entrance of the room. I then tore my eyes from one of the large windows nearby and focused on the furnishings of the train room (car, I mentally corrected myself, remembering what Minodora called it).

It was the nicest thing I'd ever seen, nicer even than the room of the Justice Building. There were plush chairs and couches set about, expensive looking rugs, ornately carved tables that would probably cost more than all the furniture in my house. Every light fixture—the lamps sitting on some of the tables, and the even fancier ones affixed to the wall—was intricately detailed, and emitted a soft glow. Glass vases containing flowers I'd never even seen were strategically placed around the car. They smelled nice, but it didn't smell like home.

I fought back another wave of sadness.

The four of us walked further into the room, each of us settling into a seat a safe distance from each other, but even further from where Minodora was perched on a plush dark blue couch. None of us wanted to be too close to her.

"Don't any of you fret—your mentors will be here soon! They got here just before you did!" Minodora said in a voice that was clearly an attempt at being calming, but just came across patronizing.

None of us spoke, and she cleared her throat a bit awkwardly.

I stared down at my hands, examining the light callouses there. Then my feet, where my plain black shoes had accumulated a lot of dust from walking. The silence was tense. Nobody knew what to say, or wanted to say anything. I heard Autumn sniffle several times.

"So, I just can't wait to show all of you the luxuries of this train! The wonders of Capitol technology," Minodora said nearly breathlessly, clasping her hands together. Clearly, she did not like the silence. Her voice was a bit too loud as she tried to cut through the tension. "It will be more glorious than anything you've ever seen! Oh, and just wait until you see the Capitol!"

She droned on, not even noticing the scowl I tossed her direction. I decided to just tune her out. I didn't want to hear any of this right now. Grief was still a tight ball in my heart, nervousness and nausea in my stomach, but right now the numbness had mostly taken over. I felt hollow.

I was almost glad for it, so I wouldn't break down again. I glanced at the other tributes briefly.

Autumn was sitting there with her eyes closed. She was trembling slightly.

She's going to die in the bloodbath, a quiet part of my brain whispered. I ignored it, because maybe I would too, though I fully planned on hightailing it out of there.

Rudd looked half-asleep, his bleary eyes focused on nothing in particular. Fortunately, from my spot several feet away I couldn't catch the scent of alcohol again.

Benjamin's arms were folded in front of him as he sat deep in thought. As if sensing my gaze on him, his green eyes flickered up and met mine. I looked away.

There was a commotion at the other end of the car, and our mentors burst into the room.

"Oh, there you are!" whatever nonsense Minodora was babbling about was fortunately cut short as she greeted the two District 7 victors. Johanna scowled at her, making Minodora purse her lips, while Blight just grunted something unintelligible.

Johanna headed over to us in a rush and plopped herself in a chair across from Benjamin. Her eyes flickered to each of us as she studied us intensely, the scowl still etched on her features. I sat up slightly in my chair and tried my best to meet her intimidating gaze.

Blight had settled near a wall nearby, leaning next to a light fixture. His face was unreadable. He didn't seem to even really be looking at us.

"So," Johanna barked suddenly after a moment, nearly making me jump. "Which one of you is not going to get immediately killed in the bloodbath this year?"

The words were harsh. I remembered last year, both District 7 tributes had died right off the bat. I thought Careers had killed them, though I couldn't remember for sure.

Nobody spoke. Her eyes focused on Benjamin. "You look less useless than most," she said almost contemplatively. His eyebrows rose, and then her eyes slid to mine. She scoffed, clearly not impressed by my small stature. I felt the need to say something before she underestimated me just because I was short and on the slender slide. Surely she could see that despite my height and smaller frame, I had callouses on my hands and some muscle tone in my arms and legs, just like the other workers of District 7?

"I won't even be in the bloodbath," I responded.

"Good. They'd break you like a twig," was her snappish response. Those dark eyes moved to Autumn.

To Autumn's credit, she had mostly gotten herself together, but her eyes were still red-rimmed. She looked incredibly frail. I was again struck by how skinny she was. Johanna seemed to have noticed this too.

"You look like you haven't eaten for months," she said. Again, the words were harsh and blunt. Part of me wanted to be offended, but another part of me realized there was really no point in mincing words at this stage.

Autumn seemed to shrink in her chair. "I…" she began in a soft, delicate voice, then trailed off.

Johanna's eyes narrowed. "Speak up," she ordered. "You'll die of starvation—if you aren't killed in the bloodbath—if we don't get some meat on those bones."

"I…can't really gain weight."

Johanna looks incredulous. "And why is that?"

"I have-" Autumn choked on her words. "I'm sick." This had confirmed some of my suspicious from earlier. I felt another wave of pity that I vainly strove to push down. She was as good as dead.

Anyone else would probably have made some sort of sympathetic remark or move to reassure the girl, but not Johanna. Her expression darkened, and then she turned to Rudd.

"You. Stay away from the bar car. We don't need you showing up to the Capitol tomorrow drunk." Rudd grunted but said nothing. Johanna's eyes flickered over to Blight. "Blight, maybe you can take this one. You can hold each other accountable," she was slightly sneering as she said it.

Blight didn't look remotely offended. He just shrugged. "We can talk about how to divide them up later," he said gruffly.

Johanna huffed and leaned back in her chair, a couple strands of her dark hair falling in her face. "Only one of you seems even remotely promising," she muttered, annoyed.

I felt my own irritation rise, cutting through the growing numbness, but I forced myself not to say anything. As much as I didn't like her writing me off, I understood why she was probably frustrated. She'd had to watch several tributes die since her own victory four years ago. I wasn't going to just roll over and die, but I knew the odds weren't great.

"Should we show them the train?" Minodora cut in then, looking way too excited. "It's even better than last year's! There are new rooms to accommodate the extra tributes, and-"

"Not yet," Johanna snapped, irritated, cutting her off. Minodora looked a bit put out, but sat back against the couch with a small huff.

"Blight and I still have to sort out the issue of who will be mentoring who. But right now, Ineed to know that it's not going to be a total bloodbath shitshow this year. Please tell me each of you can at least do one useful thing. Let's start with you." Her eyes focused on Benjamin, the tribute she (and some part of me as well) had marked down as being the most competitive.

"You first. What're you good at?"

Benjamin cleared his throat, almost seeming a bit nervous, as he sat up. "Well, I work as a lumberjack. So, I'm pretty comfortable with an axe. And I have to do a lot of heavy lifting, for long hours."

Strong, in shape, good endurance, I thought mentally. The obvious just from looking at him.

Johanna seemed to think the same thing. "I could tell most of that already. Your size will come in handy. Anything else? Even if you don't think it's important right now. The last thing we need is a repeat of last year," she finished with a scowl. Though she spoke about it so callously, I wondered if deep down it truly bothered her how the two last year had died so quickly.

Benjamin frowned, contemplating. "I'm a good swimmer. And I'm also decent with knives, I guess. I know how to skin and prepare an animal to eat."

Swimming wasn't a common quality for someone from District 7, unless they had regular access to a river (which was monitored or restricted for most of us), so Benjamin actually being good at swimming was surprising. The Peacekeepers didn't let us just wander around to go swimming in the rivers outside of the inner fence. I'd wondered how he'd had the time to become so comfortable with it. His familiarity with knives was less surprising. I'd anticipated him having quite a few advantages in the arena.

Johanna nodded, clearly not too put out by any of this information. Benjamin was obviously her favorite. I understood why.

"Well," she said, her voice now more contemplative instead of annoyed. "That's definitely some to work with."

"Think it'll be enough to get Sponsors?" Benjamin asked. He actually sounded nervous about the prospect of getting Sponsors. Was he serious? I snorted before I could help myself.

Both Benjamin and Johanna turned to look at me. Benjamin quizzical, Johanna with an eyebrow raised. "Something you want to add?" She said dryly.

I sighed, wishing I would've just kept my reactions to myself. Not that I was ever good at that.

I gestured in Benjamin's direction, but spoke to Johanna. "Look at him. He'll get Sponsors. The Capitol will eat him up."

Benjamin had the nerve to look confused, but Johanna was actually smirking as she turned back to him. "She's right on some account. You're good looking, and they love that shit. The stylists will play it up. You'll get Sponsors just on that alone. There's usually attractive Careers, but some people in the Capitol love an underdog. Especially one that doesn't look totally weak."

"Oh, you'll just look so great in the parade!" Minodora chimed in, ignoring Johanna's death glare as the escort beamed at Benjamin.

As much as he tended to seem charming and flirty at school, Benjamin actually looked vaguely uncomfortable by the frank discussion. I found that his reaction annoyed me. He should be aware of and capitalize on his strengths. The humility, whether sincere or not, was irritating.

My eyes met his again, and his had a questioning look in them. I averted my gaze.

The smirk sliding off of Johanna's face, she turned to me. "And you?" She glanced me up and down, again clearly not impressed.

"I'm quick. I can climb trees."

She snorted. "Most kids from 7 can climb trees."

"Not as fast as I can." I tried to smother my irritation.

She rolled her eyes, clearly not convinced, and I quickly kept talking before she could cut me off. Once more I felt the urge to prove that I had some merit, that I wasn't going to just give up and die at the beginning. My pride wouldn't allow me to just take her criticism without defending myself.

"I know some basic first aid. I had to stitch up my own cut once. I did some work with axes when I was younger. But I think my best skill is my axe throwing. My brother and I have been practicing for years. I'm pretty good…well, by District 7 standards, without formal training."

Johanna looked equal parts critical and contemplative.

"You have practice on a moving target?"

"No, but we did practice from a lot of distances and different angles, a couple times every week, since I was thirteen. I hit the target almost every single time." I didn't add that even though I hit the target pretty much every time, my brother was better than me. I also didn't add that I didn't get a bullseye very often from the harder angles and distances. Hitting the target was the most important thing. If it were a tribute, it would slow them down.

"It's better than nothing. Could save your life, or help you if you get an axe and get the drop on someone. It won't match up to what anyone with training on a moving target can do, though." She still didn't look impressed, but she wasn't giving me the overly critical eye anymore.

"I never thought it would," I replied, a bit of annoyance leaking into my voice.

Johanna scowled, not liking my tone, and then rolled her eyes and turned to Autumn.

"I'm guessing we don't have a ton to work with here?" was the snarky question.

Autumn just shrugged, looking desolate and resigned. "I know first aid too. I know about a lot of different plants, and how they can be used in medicines." Her voice was soft, demure. Maybe she could get some sympathy votes from the Capitol, I thought.

"Your best bet is to run and hide as soon as you can, then. Try to outlast the others. If anyone finds you, you're definitely dead." That was all Johanna said.

It was Rudd's turn. Johanna's nose wrinkled slightly as she turned to him, probably getting a whiff of alcohol.

"You? Good at anything?" She didn't sound like she expected a satisfying answer.

Rudd just grunted, giving a rough shrug of his shoulders. "Can lift and carry heavy stuff," he said gruffly. "Can use an axe."

Pretty much the same as Benjamin, then…except Rudd was older, significantly more out of shape, and clearly had a problem with alcohol. And he was not exactly charming.

"Where'd you get that?" Johanna asked, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to the scar etched across Rudd's forehead.

"Got into a, uh, disagreement," he muttered, dark eyes flicking away. He clearly did not want to talk about it. I wondered if he'd gotten into a fight with someone in the district, or if the Peacekeepers had done that to him.

To my surprise, Johanna didn't push for more of an answer. She seemed to have already lost interest.

"Fine. Go on and show them the train then," she barked at Minodora. "Blight and I are gonna have a little chat before dinner."

Minodora stood up, beaming, clearly just waiting for this moment. "Come along then, everybody!" She chirped excitedly.

We all stood up and followed her out of the sitting room car and into another hallway.

As Minodora began to give us the tour, I was once again struck by the pure luxury of the train.

Each of us had our own chambers. Minodora only opened one of the side doors in the narrow hallway to show off the first room, but I saw a larger and more comfortable-looking bed than I had ever slept on, sets of drawers apparently filled with nicer clothes for us to wear, and even a separate dressing area and a bathroom. All the rooms were pretty much identical. Minodora quickly assigned rooms based on the order we were standing in the hallway. I itched to go into my own chambers, to try out the "hot shower with perfumed soaps" Minodora bragged about, but she insisted on giving us the remainder of the tour first. Dinner was in about an hour and a half, she said, so we had time.

The next car, we were told, was the dining car. The walls were made of polished paneled wood. A massive, incredibly expensive looking table was set out in the center, chairs all around. Though there was no food on the table yet, dishes and silverware were already set up, looking extremely fragile and delicate compared to the bowls and chipped plates back home. There were even more fancy plush seats in one corner of the room. Minodora spent several moments bragging about the food. I actually tried to listen, to seize on something positive about this train, to avoid thinking about the events of today.

I knew I'd need time to myself again later, to break down if I needed to. But not now. I couldn't do it now.

The next car was also stacked with more couches and finely upholstered chairs. Exactly how many sitting areas did we even need? On one wall was a massive screen, and Minodora told us this is where we'd be watching the recap of the Reapings after dinner. The back half of the car, however, consisted of a small bar. I saw various types of spirits stacked on the finely-crafted shelves along the wall, but there were plenty other types of beverages too. Things I didn't recognize at all. Minodora us told us they had tea and coffee, as well, and that we could ask any of the Capitol servants on board to make us some (apparently, these servants were called Avoxes; Minodora had callously told us what they were called and informed us they couldn't speak after Benjamin had awkwardly tried to greet one of them). I'd had tea a couple of times, but coffee was pretty expensive and a rarity at my house.

The final car Minodora showed us was my favorite, besides the fancy bedchambers. It was the very rear of the train (we hadn't seen the front – we weren't allowed to see any of the cars in front of the initial sitting room where we'd entered the train). Large glass windows circled the entire room, giving a startling view of the forests rushing past outside. A bench circled the entirety of the back half of the car, under the windows. This area was clearly meant for us to sit and enjoy the scenery. The bench under the windows was broken up by a couple of tables with lamps on them, and there was a bookshelf nearby stacked with books. I wondered if people often came back here and just read to distract themselves from their impending doom. I wasn't much of a reader, but maybe I'd start now.

Minodora finally dismissed us, saying to be at dinner in an hour and fifteen minutes exactly. I hurried to the chambers she'd pointed out for me without a word to anyone else, shutting the door firmly behind me. I quickly stripped off my clothes (gently placing my mother's dress over a chair in the main room) and made my way into the bathroom, sliding open the door to the small separate shower. Pulling out my ribbon, I let my hair cascade down, feeling almost like a security blanket.

The shower was…confusing. Not only because I'd never taken a shower before (we took baths back home, and hot water was a luxury that required boiling to achieve), but because of all of the confusing buttons on the wall.

It took a few moments, but eventually I figured out which was the button to trigger the gentle spray of hot water at just the right temperature. I stepped under it (after removing my mother's wedding ring and setting it gently next to the sink), shuddering. I wasn't sure I'd ever felt anything more relaxing. I experimented with a few more buttons-spraying myself with who knows what in the process-before I found some soap that didn't smell too much like Minodora's perfume. I then began to scrub my body, watching the bubbles swirl down the drain. I then did the same with my hair, not sure if I was using the right soap for it, but not caring.

As much as I hated the Capitol, I would admit this shower thing was pretty nice. They got to have this every day? I couldn't fathom it.

I stayed in there at least twenty minutes, pretending the water was washing away all of my problems, fear, loneliness, sadness, and anger. After turning the water off, shivering reluctantly, I grabbed a fluffy towel hanging nearby and wrapped myself into it, wringing my wet hair into the shower.

I glanced at the mirror above the sink before leaving the bathroom. I didn't think anyone who didn't know me well would be able to tell I'd been sobbing earlier. My eyes looked distant, somewhat disconnected. They matched some of the heavy numbness that had settled in my chest. I would need to deal with that later. I gently slid my mother's ring back on my right hand.

Returning to the main room, I began to rifle through the drawers. They had soft shirts and pants in every color. It looked like there were also some dresses and nicer clothes hanging up in the separate dressing area. I didn't want nice clothes right now, though.

I pulled out some underwear from one of the drawers (I couldn't fathom wearing underwear this expensive-looking every day), as well as a silky shirt and pants. They felt strange against my skin.

I then ran a brush that I'd found in one of the bathroom drawers under the sink through my dark hair, combing out the tangles. It was much easier than normal, likely due to the expensive Capitol soap. Still-wet, I tied it back into a ponytail.

I settled down on the bed, feeling like I probably still had about forty-five minutes until dinner. Part of me wanted to nap, but I was worried that as soon as I settled down, the events from today would crash over me like a tidal wave. I couldn't deal with that right now. No, I didn't think that being in this room was a good idea.

Idly, I thumbed the ring, feeling the soft grooves of the intricate carvings on the sides. I sensed tears threatening to prick at my eyes again, and abruptly stood up.

I decided to go to the rear car, with all the windows. Maybe I'd be able to lose myself in the scenery rushing by.

Luckily, it was empty when I got there. I poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher and glasses sitting on a table nearby and then settled on the bench in the very back center of the car, turning to stare out of the window.

I passively watched the woods race by at a speed that didn't match how smoothly the train ran. I wondered how far we were from home now. Minodora had mentioned we'd be in the Capitol tomorrow; at this speed, who knew how far we'd gotten. I already felt like I was a million miles away. I closed my eyes, picturing my family for a split second before opening them again and taking a sip from the glass in my hand.

The water was soothing on my throat, cold, and tasted better than the water back home. Of course it did. Everything the Capitol had was better. I felt a wave of dislike rush through me and I set the glass down on the table next to me with a bit more force than necessary. I'd rather have the water from back home.

I was left to my own devices in peaceful silence for about half an hour before someone decided to join me.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" came a voice from the entrance to the car.

Startled, I turned quickly to see who was intruding on my free time. Benjamin. Great. I didn't exactly want to make small talk right now with one of the other people marked for death. Especially with the one who actually had the best chance of making it home. My pride reared its ugly head at that thought. He may be stronger than me, but I had just as much fight in me as he did.

Realizing he was looking at me expectantly, I just tossed him a shrug and turned back to look out the window. I decided to pretend he wasn't there. Maybe if we were allowed to be in alliances with people from our own district, it would make sense to become a bit closer. But wouldn't getting to know him just make it harder later?

I didn't want to kill him. I didn't think I could kill him or anyone from my own district. But it would be harder to see them die if I knew them better.

Unfortunately, Benjamin had decided to approach me. Apparently, he didn't have the same reservations I did. He sat on the bench under a different window, a few feet away. He was quiet for a minute, maybe two, and I aimlessly watched the scenery and imagined I was out there, climbing the trees, escaping my reality.

"You really don't like me, do you?" he asked, breaking the silence again.

I turned to face him, startled.

"What?"

He actually had a small smile on his face. "Well, let me rephrase that. At school you always seemed nice. But ever since my name was called…well you've kinda just looked disgusted by me."

I scoffed; because how was it not obvious that I just hated everything about this? The Reaping, the absurd displays of Capitol wealth, Minodora, Johanna talking about us as if we were fodder for the stronger districts.

"It's not you. It's…this," I just gestured vaguely at everything around us.

Benjamin turned his position to mirror mine, gazing out the window, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. "Yeah. I get that. It's…something."

"It's too much. I hate it all. They're overwhelming us with luxury and fattening us up before sending us out to be killed, like animals."

He sighed, turning back to face me. "You're right, but we're stuck with it."

I didn't have anything to say to that, not that I was feeling particularly talkative anyway. I turned back to look out the window.

Benjamin was quiet, and a couple minutes passed before he spoke again. "But I meant what I was saying. The way you were looking at me when I got Reaped, then at the train station, then again on the train…and when Johanna and I were talking about my skills for the Arena…" He trailed off awkwardly, and I realized he was referring to when we were discussing his looks attracting sponsors. "Did I do something to offend you?"

I looked at him incredulously. "Why would you care if you had?" I asked.

He looked vaguely uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at something on the ground. "Well, I mean…I know things are different this year, because all the tributes are being paired. So, district alliances may not be possible. But I still want you to know…it's not like…I don't…" he looked completely uncomfortable, floundering for his words for a moment longer before he found them, with me watching him quizzically all the while.

His jaw clenched as he continued. "It's not like I'm going to be gunning for you in the Arena. I know that by the nature of the Games, we can't all win this. But I don't want you to die, or them. I'm not the type of person that would deliberately go after someone from my own district."

Benjamin's words sounded sincere, and with how uncomfortable he looked as he shifted in his seat, it seemed like he meant them. But I was a pessimist, and never one to be lulled into a false sense of security.

"What if we were the final four left?" I asked sardonically.

His eyes met mine again, a shrewd expression in them. "We both know that's not realistic."

"Fine," I conceded. "But what if it were just the two of us and our two partners?"

"Then I would go after your Arena partner instead of you. And I'm hoping you'd do the same."

"Well, what if-"

"Juniper," he cut me off in exasperation, startling me. It was weird hearing my full name from someone my age, but we'd never known each other well enough for me to ask him to just call me June. "Stop that. We both know that's not likely to happen. And you're overlooking most of my point. I'm saying that you don't have to keep glaring at me like I'm a legitimate threat to your life. I don't want to kill you."

I sighed heavily, then, feeling a bit deflated. And a bit guilty, for some reason. Maybe for assuming the worst of him? Then again, this was the Hunger Games, and a Quarter Quell. I was safer assuming the worst of everyone. But it was true that I didn't want to kill him, so it was fair to think he didn't want to kill me.

I couldn't trust him, I knew; but it was true that most district partners didn't turn on each other early in the games if they could avoid it. Benjamin definitely didn't seem like the type to do that unless he had no other choice. I was the same way. Then again, the Hunger Games could change that. It could change all of us.

I felt like I owed him a bit of honesty, then. I respected him for approaching the subject so bluntly. "I see your point," I begrudgingly admitted. "I guess part of me was looking at you as direct competition. Maybe that wasn't fair to assume the worst of you, but it was hard not to just see the competitive angle. You're the biggest and strongest, and with your looks you'll attract a lot of Sponsors. You'll be a better tribute than a lot of others."

His eyebrows were raised, and a small smirk was on his face. "Oh, you think I'm attractive, then?"

There it was. The charm I'd seen him turn on the girls at school.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure you're aware of your appearance. Modesty doesn't suit you." Something occurred to me and I continued as his smirk grew wider, "Actually, that may have been one of the reasons I was glaring at you earlier. After Johanna was talking about it being easy for you to get Sponsors, and the Capitol eating you up. You looked legitimately uncomfortable. I thought you were putting it on, some sort of show of fake humility."

"Fake humility?"

"Oh come on, I've seen you flirt with half the girls at school. You know what you've got going for you."

Benjamin looked contemplative. "Well, I wasn't trying to put on some sort of fake show of being humble. I actually was uncomfortable. I'm fine with how I look," he ignored the way I rolled my eyes again, "but hearing her talk about that…like I'm just a piece of meat for the Capitol to feast their eyes on, was different. They won't even know me. All they'll know is that I'm being sent to an arena to kill other kids. But they'll give me money to do that just because of how I look. It's just shallow, and it feels wrong. I understand how it works, and I know it might help me, but it's still awful to think about."

I realized I really hadn't been giving Benjamin enough credit. The guilt surged again. The calculating, survivalist part of my brain had already started to see him as the competition he was, and not just another innocent victim like me. Obviously, I needed that rational part of my brain to help me stay alive, but I didn't have to lose my empathy entirely, right? He didn't want this any more than I did. He didn't volunteer. He was a great tribute by District 7 standards, but he didn't ask for this.

"You're right," I admitted, this time less begrudgingly. "I never thought about it like that." I didn't say anything further, because he'd accurately summarized what the situation was going to be like for him.

A somewhat sly look appeared in his green eyes as the small smile reappeared. "You're not that bad yourself, you know. You'll probably get Sponsors too. Possibly. If you learn how to smile."

"Wow, relax with the flattery. I'm getting overwhelmed over here," I responded sarcastically, tossing him a halfhearted glare.

Benjamin actually full on smiled at that, teeth white against his tanned skin. "Want to go to dinner?" was his only response as he moved to stand up. I snorted, amused at his unintentionally funny choice of words. It almost sounded like he was asking me out. I didn't comment on it, though.

Benjamin's smile only got wider, though, almost as if he guessed my thoughts, and he gestured towards the door to the car as I stood up after him. "After you, my lady," he replied with mock chivalry.

I threw another halfhearted scowl his way, and we made our way towards the dining room in companionable silence.

---

...

---

Dinner was an awkward affair, to say the least. At first it was mostly silent save for the scrape of silverware on plates, but then Minodora saw fit to fill the silence with chatter. None of us clearly wanted to listen. Her voice alone was insufferable, as was her ignorance about our states of mind.

The food, however, was fantastic. Richer, heartier, and better-tasting than everything I'd had in my life. It almost felt like a dream as course upon course was brought out and set in front of us. I had to fight not to wolf it down hungrily like a starving animal. I usually got enough to eat at home, but barely—there was never a surplus, and we had to be careful to make the best possible use of everything we had. We never wasted food, and we usually ate the same three or four things. Even with that, we (and most people in 7) stayed pretty thin. My family was luckier than most, because my father, my brother and I earned enough income to put food on the table. But the meals we had were usually basic, and just enough to fill our bellies.

This sheer amount of food being set in front of me now was mind-boggling. I truly couldn't fathom it. Part of my brain was angry at the thought of all the people in the districts that were starving while the Capitol ate like this.

Making a stand now due to the injustice wouldn't help me in the Games, though. I needed to eat as much as possible. Maybe I could gain a bit of weight before going in, since food wouldn't be widely available in the Arena.

So, I stayed quiet as I ate. I shoveled through the courses- first some sort of creamy, thick hearty soup. Next up was a salad with candied nuts (most of which I loved, but had never tried before). Then the next course consisted of thick dollops of mashed potatoes with seasoning I'd never heard of, corn prepared in a way I'd never seen, a generous helping of roasted vegetables, roast turkey sliced into large chunks and smothered with a delicious thick brown sauce, and a meat I was told was lamb. I tried a little bit of everything. There was some sort of glaze on the meat – I could've eaten even more, but I tried to pace myself to not get sick. I was already somewhat full by the time the meat arrived (I had disregarded Minodora's insistence that we not eat too much, as more was still coming). My body wasn't adjusted to eating this much, and I filled quickly.

Throughout it all there was a platter of various cheeses and fruits in the center of the table, again most of which I'd never had or even heard of. I especially loved the cheese and tried not to shove different pieces in my mouth too aggressively. The silent Avoxes kept stepping forward to replenish that platter. There was also a giant plate of fluffy rolls and butter to smear on them. And then, after all of that, there was the final course of dessert – Minodora informed us the options were chocolate cake and cheesecake.

The cheesecake was the best thing of all. I was stuffed by that point, but I still shoveled bites in my mouth not too graciously and ignored the scolding look Minodora tossed me. It was light, smooth, creamy, and unbelievably good. At least I could gain a few pounds and eat well before being sent off to my likely death, I thought morbidly.

I closed my eyes briefly, enjoying the absolute heaven of this dessert. I might as well enjoy it while I could. I wanted to pretend I was somewhere else, not on a train headed towards the Capitol, sharing this cheesecake with my family.

If I won, maybe they'd get to try it. Rowan would love the cheesecake. I pushed the thought away. Thinking of them would make me unstable right now. I'd have time for collapse in on myself after we were sent to bed tonight.

Of course, due to the sheer amount of rich food, my stomach was already feeling a bit unsettled by that point. I wasn't used to all of this. I leaned back in my chair, hoping I wouldn't have to run to the bathroom to get ill. I needed to keep all of this down.

Rudd occasionally slurped his soup directly from the bowl or ate with his hands. I had to suppress a smile at the look of open disgust on Minodora's face when she noticed that and tried to correct his manners. He ignored her.

Autumn only picked at her food, resulting in chastising from the escort. I wanted to glare at the woman. She'd been in the room earlier when Autumn clearly said she was sick. She probably couldn't eat most of this. All Minodora cared about, though, was manners.

Throughout the meal, she chattered and made occasional attempts at small talk (which were only returned by grunts from Blight, an occasional scoff from Johanna, and—of course—polite short replies from Benjamin, as he was too nice to ignore her). Minodora didn't seem to mind, though. She barely glanced at the other three tributes, honing in on Benjamin, clearly encouraged by his short answers.

On the rare times she met my gaze as she waited for a response, I did try to keep my face neutral and give her a short nod or halfhearted shrug. I strongly disliked her, and had no desire to speak with her. In fact, on multiple occasions I'd wanted to punch her in the face. She grated on my last nerve. But I knew realistically that being hostile towards her wouldn't help me in any way, shape or form in the Capitol. It was her world, and she probably had connections. I couldn't be friendly, but I could be neutral.

How on earth did she even have so much to talk about? And why did she think any of us even cared?

She was so self-absorbed that I supposed it didn't matter.

Finally, the Avoxes came to gather up the last of the empty plates. Blight got up, saying he'd see us shortly to watch the recap of the Reapings. Johanna followed him shortly after, making some sort of snarky comment about not wanting to hear anymore "useless Capitol gossip." Minodora threw her a dark look.

I felt practically comatose, resting my hands on my stomach. I was glad my clothing was loose. I was definitely bloated from all of the food. I tried not to think about how unpleasant my stomach felt as Minodora droned on.

"So, wasn't that just delicious!" Minodora exclaimed brightly a few minutes later, after finishing up yet another random story I wasn't listening to. "Far better than anything back in your district, I'm sure!"

Of course it is, I thought with some irritation. Not like we have the money for all of this.

Seeing that nobody else was giving an actual response, Benjamin nodded at her. "Best food I've ever had," he replied politely. She beamed at him.

"Oh, just wait until we get into the Capitol tomorrow! You'll have ever better food at the apartments in the Training Center. What was your favorite, Benjamin dear? I'll make sure we have extra at the apartment!"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, then realized that maybe I should've been nicer to her to get a shot at more cheesecake.

"Chocolate cake for me, for sure," he replied, then his eyes met mine and an amused look appeared on his face. "And I think Juniper really liked that cheesecake."

I bit my lip. "That obvious, huh?"

"You looked like you forgot all of us were here for a second there."

"Watching me eat, were you, Benjamin?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ben. Call me Ben."

"Fine, Ben, then you can call me June. And your dessert preference is questionable."

"You would insult the person trying to get you more cheesecake?"

I pretended to contemplate. "Fair point. Carry on." I was rewarded with a bright grin.

It was then that I decided I could get along with Benjamin—Ben, I mentally corrected myself—just fine, for now, given the circumstances. He had a way of making people feel at ease. Instead of me wallowing in the ball of anxiety and dread in my chest, he made conversations feel almost normal. I was grateful to him for it.

Minodora was looking back and forth between us, eyebrows raised. "You two know each other?" She asked, a suspicious amount of interest in her voice.

Ben answered for me. "We went to school together. I've seen her around a lot."

That made it sound like we were more familiar with each other than we were, but I was saved from responding by Johanna abruptly returning to the dining car. "Come on, it's time to watch the recap. Move your asses."

We all got up then, and I felt a sense of dread settle heavily on me as we walked towards the car with the lounge and the bar. I'd been trying to avoid thinking about this for as long as possible.

I didn't want to sit through this. I didn't want to see the other forty-four tributes who had been Reaped. The other tributes that would be trying to kill me…the other tributes I'd have to kill. I wasn't sure which would be worse—seeing the nasty, brutal Career tributes that would no doubt be intimidating, or seeing the weaker, frail children from districts like 3 and 12.

It was a lose-lose situation. I'd be dealing with them soon, but I just wished I could be living in denial a bit longer.

As we entered the car and settled into seats, however, I steeled myself. I had to think practically, as much as it made me feel sick to my stomach (a situation not helped by the amount of food I'd consumed). Thinking practically involved making a mental note of the tributes that stood out as the biggest threats. The tributes that would likely be Capitol favorites. I also needed to determine if there were any sneaky underdogs this year. I wouldn't make the same mistake as the tributes last year that had severely underestimated District 12.

The program started shortly, and the images of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith filled the screen. They began to give a brief introduction about the Quarter Quell and some comments about how "wonderful" and "exciting" this year's Reapings had been. I mostly tuned them out, eyeing them with some distaste. Caesar looked as vibrant as ever—I noted that this year, his hair and eyebrows were both dyed a shocking lavender. His teeth stood out as a stark white against his tanned skin. He'd had some work done, I could tell; he didn't seem to age even though he'd been announcing the Games and conducting interviews since I could remember. He wore a midnight blue suit that was pretty much the same as how he dressed for all of these Games. There was some sort of barely visible pattern on it that shimmered as he moved in the light of the cameras.

Claudius, meanwhile, had puffy, curly blonde hair and was wearing some sort of suit with a pattern I could only describe as "atrocious."

I did tune in to one thing that Caesar was saying – he was talking about the volunteering rules for this year. I realized I hadn't really thought about it, since I hadn't expected there to be any volunteers in District 7.

For all four tributes –even the two pulled from the district citizens between the ages of nineteen and sixty—the rules were the same. Only someone between the ages of twelve and eighteen could volunteer. In other words, the volunteering rules hadn't been changed to accommodate the Quarter Quell differences.

For a second, I was curious as to why. I understood keeping the same rules for the two tributes Reaped from the normal age group; but what about the others? Then I quickly realized that, if anyone between the ages of nineteen and sixteen could volunteer in place of those Reaped, the Capitol would probably end up with a bunch of elderly tributes. The older folks of some of the outer Districts would no doubt volunteer if their child, or someone they knew, was Reaped. I thought about Autumn; she was sick, and only in her early twenties. There was no telling how many other tributes had been Reaped this year who still had living parents in the age range also eligible to be Reaped. The Capitol could have some older volunteers on their hands if it were allowed; at least, the risk was certainly there. And those volunteers wouldn't be the normal Career. They certainly wouldn't be brutal, bloodthirsty, young and capable volunteers with the rest of their lives ahead of them.

The Capitol obviously knew that some older people would be Reaped this year, given the age range eligible. They were clearly willing to accept that in order to intimidate and terrorize citizens that thought they could never be Reaped again. But, at the end of the day, the Capitol was still the most interested in young, healthy tributes fighting to the death. It wasn't as fun if a disproportionate amount of the people fighting to survive had already gotten to live out most of their lives.

I scoffed under my breath at Caesar's excited babble about how many people he thought would volunteer this year, ignoring the questioning look Ben tossed at me from the chair on my right.

I barely resisted the urge to raise my fingers to my mouth to bite at my nails, suppressing my nervous habit. I was sure my unease was evident, but I didn't want the others to see it so easily. Instead, I took to fiddling with my mother's wedding ring again.

Soon, the announcers' images disappeared on the screen, as it was time to watch the other Reapings. An image of District 1's Justice Building and town square flickered on screen.

The difference in wealth between Districts 1 and 7 was immediately visible. It was funny, if you thought about it – District 1 bordered District 7, but they couldn't be more different. District 1 was highly favored by the Capitol, being entrusted with providing luxury goods to the capitol. Their Justice Building's exterior was immaculate and imposing. It was more well-kept than anything in 7.

Their escort – looking easily as ridiculous as ours but clearly favoring the gemstones from the district, which were interwoven in her clothes—tottered over to the microphone. I knew it probably wouldn't matter which names she called. Pretty much all of the tributes from 1 and 2 (and quite a few from 4, usually) were volunteers.

Sure enough, all four people who were actually Reaped ended up having volunteers take their places. Of course. District 1 was probably jumping at the chance to get four people into the games who could potentially bring honor and wealth back to their district. The crowd cheered enthusiastically each time a volunteer took the stage and said their name and age. The only District that would be more excited than 1 was probably District 2. I swallowed nervously.

The first girl from District 1 was exactly as expected. Tall, blonde, beautiful. Half of their Victors looked like that. She sidled up to the escort with all of the confidence in the world as she then announced her name and age; Chiffon, eighteen. She even had the gall to wink at the camera. I rolled my eyes at the name—if it were a competition for most odd or unusual names each year, District 1 would have all seventy-four Victors.

Then again, maybe they found our names ridiculous too. A lot of us in 7 were named after nature or trees. I pushed the thought away, unwilling to even try to emphasize with District 1.

I heard Johanna scoff from a couple chairs to my left and say something that sounded suspiciously like a negative comment about Chiffon's short, tight dress.

I knew to take this girl seriously, though, and to see past the way she flirtatiously tossed her hair over her shoulder. District 1 heavily relied on sex appeal or charm, but they were still trained and dangerous. I could see how smoothly Chiffon walked, the balance with which she held herself.

The first boy was named Lambent, and he was also eighteen. Score another in the ridiculous name category. He also fit the "tall, blonde, beautiful" mold of a District 1 Career. There was an obnoxious smirk curving along the boy's mouth as he quickly strode over to the escort and then stood on the stage, staring out over the crowd, pride evident on his handsome face. He was about as tall as Ben and my brother, maybe even slightly taller. Muscular, too, though that was expected of a Career. Like Chiffon he had golden hair and somewhat regal-looking features. He certainly didn't lack confidence, throwing the crowd a wave as they cheered him on. He was definitely a contender, though District 1 tributes always were.

The second District 1 girl—Ruby—was also quite pretty, though not as flashy as Chiffon. She was slightly shorter, but like the others she strode with confidence onto the stage after volunteering. Her curly brown hair cascaded down her back, and she tossed the camera a beaming smile. You would think she hadn't just volunteered for a fight-to-the-death event. She was a year younger than the others, at seventeen.

The last District 1 tribute was a bit more muted than the others when he volunteered. He was just as tall as Lambent, though skinnier than his male district counterpart. He was on the paler side, with black hair and incredibly dark eyes that almost made him look haunted. He surveyed the crowd appraisingly as he stood on stage, moving from foot to foot, folding his arms in front of his chest as he announced his name and age: Onyx, also eighteen. There was something inherently unlikable and shifty in his expression.

My dread had already been building up as I watched these four tributes confidently take the stage, even though I had expected it. But as I watched Onyx, who gave the camera trained on him a long, dark look before returning to survey the crowd, I felt the nervousness increase. There was just something off about him. Well, more off than the standard Career.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair then wiped my hands on my pants subtly, hoping nobody noticed my growing unease.

Johanna seemed to agree with me. I hadn't really been paying attention to her snarky, muttered comments after she said something about Chiffon. Now, though, she spoke up loudly this time as the screen panned across the different District 1 tributes and in the background, Caesar and Claudius started speaking excitedly. They were giving a quick rundown of their opinions on District 1 before District 2's Reaping recap began.

"I doubt any of you want to run into District 1 in the Arena unless you're paired with one of them…but stay away from that last one. He seems like a bit of a loony," she said, dark eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"How do you know? They all look intimidating to me," Ben replied honestly.

Johanna shrugged. "Call it gut instinct. When you watch enough of these over-eager showoffs volunteer and then are around them during the Games each year, you start to notice the little things."

I pursed my lips thoughtfully, and then it was time for District 2. I felt my heartbeat quicken a bit—to me, District 2 had always been even worse than District 1.

District 1 seemed to focus more on charisma and winning personalities in front of the camera, and the appeal of good looks. District 2 tributes could be charming, too, but they usually came across colder and more vicious than the District 1 tributes. They oozed ferocity in interviews, and didn't seem to care as much about using charm, sex appeal, or the like to win over Sponsors. It was about brutality, confidence, efficiency. They would achieve want they wanted through intimidation and strength…and the act of ending lives.

"Here we go," I heard Ben mutter under his breath as the camera focused on the District 2 stage and the solid, imposing Justice Building. Everything about their district looked well-maintained and severe, like the people. The district was known for stonework, masonry, and Peacekeeper training, I recalled.

I was pretty sure they had the most Victors out of every district. There was a row on them sitting on stage, looking every part as ruthless and imposing as I knew they had to be. I bit my lip, shifting in my seat again as a Capitol escort donned in various shades of red finery and fabric approached the microphone.

Surprise, surprise—four volunteers again.

The first girl was tall, broad-shouldered, and brawny. She had severe features and long hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. I could tell that the only thing she cared about when it came to appearance was how strong she looked…and I understood why. The outline of muscles rippled under her clothing as she strode hurriedly up to the stage. A cruel smirk adorned her lips as she spoke into the microphone, revealing her name as Tatiana, and her age as eighteeen. I immediately knew the stylists would make her as intimidating as possible instead of focusing on beauty. It wouldn't be difficult. Her eyes radiated malice as she stared ahead. As far as the girls went, she was definitely the biggest threat so far, in my opinion.

Johanna muttered something unpleasant but I tried to tune her out. My heart was already sinking like a stone again; I didn't need a reminder of just how shit our odds were.

Well, Ben probably had slightly better odds. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was grimacing, concern etched across his handsome face.

The first District 2 boy was about what I'd expected. He wasn't as tall as either of the boys from 1, but he was certainly broad-shouldered and built. I idly wondered what type of weapon he'd use. It looked like he did a lot of heavy lifting. He had somewhat shaggy dark hair and as the camera focused on him, I saw he had a mottled scar taking up part of the left side of his face. It almost looked like some sort of burn. His large chest was puffed up with pride as he stood on stage. He seemed as eager as possible to get out there and start killing. Bastion, eighteen, he said excitedly into the microphone when the escort prompted him.

I hated the amount of nervousness in my stomach. I hated myself even more for eating that much food. I didn't need it coming back up. I fiddled with the ring on my finger idly to distract myself.

The second District 2 girl surprised me. Her voice was calm as she volunteered, but she looked almost…bored? She walked to the stage almost leisurely, a mask of indifference across her features. She was muscled but only average height, and had dark reddish hair kept relatively short, falling just below her chin. Her voice radiated boredom as she spoke her name into the microphone—Cassia—and then stepped back to take her spot on the stage. She was also seventeen years old, like one of the tributes from District 1. I assumed that anyone allowed to volunteer in Districts 1 and 2, when the competition was so steep, had to be good; they had to be even better if they were allowed to volunteer below the age of eighteen.

Cassia surveyed the crowd with disinterest, legitimately looking like she didn't even really want to be there. I wondered if this was part of her play or if this truly didn't matter to her. I suspected she'd really come alive in the arena.

"Watch out for that one," Johanna said then, breaking into my thoughts as I heard Blight grunt his agreement. "She might have half a brain in there. Nobody likes a smart District 2 tribute."

"She definitely doesn't look like they normally do," Ben added thoughtfully. I turned to look at him as he spoke, nodding my agreement as he glanced at me.

But I didn't get to respond, because Ben's eyes fixated on the screen again, widening. I turned back to the screen and felt my stomach drop like a stone as the final tribute from 2 was revealed. My heartrate sped up, pounding in my chest.

If there was a more fitting tribute to represent District 2, I didn't want to see him.

He's a monster. Was my first thought as I stared, wide-eyed at the screen, as a huge blonde boy strode forward. He was the biggest tribute so far – taller than all of the others, taller even than the District 1 boy, Lambent. But he was also bulkier than Lambent, looking like he was made entirely of bulging muscles. His chest was broad, his arms absolutely massive. He looked like he could (and would) snap my neck like a twig. The monstrous boy towered over everyone else as he confidently strode towards the stage with huge strides.

He was a giant, terrifying, future killing machine. Everyone could see it. He was built for this.

I heard Johanna swear under her breath. My spine was stiff as I felt the fear grip me. I was this intimidated seeing him on the screen; I couldn't even imagine what it would be like coming across him in the Arena.

I turned and caught Benjamin's gaze; he looked at me and shook his head slowly.

Avoid at all costs, his eyes said. I bit my lip, sure my emotions were plainly spread across my face. I had to fight not to voice my fear aloud; it was difficult for me to not speak my mind, especially when it was negative.

The enormous boy sauntered over to the microphone easily, making the escort practically look like a child. Hell, he was a giant compared to the other tributes from his own district. The other boy from 2, Bastion, was very brawny; but this blonde boy was a few inches taller, and even more muscled.

His name was Cato, and he was eighteen. Somehow, I felt my fear increase, my stomach sinking even further as he stated his name and stared into the camera. Cato's eyes were a chilling, icy blue, and the amount of malice and confidence in them was frightening. He didn't puff up his chest like Bastion or sneer at the crowd like some of the other Career tributes. He didn't have to. Everything about him oozed viciousness, and the way he held himself let everybody watching know that he fully expected to win.

Cato thought he'd been born for this. That much was obvious. He stood there, head up, a mostly impassive expression on his face as he glanced coolly around at the audience. I could hear Caesar's and Claudius' voices over the footage, clearly praising the monstrous boy and talking about how excited they were to see him "in action," how he'd be one of the biggest threats this year. I had no doubt of that.

Looking at him, I also knew the Capitol would just love him. For his brutality, obviously; they always loved District 2 for that. They'd love his bulky build, as well. The bigger the better in the Capitol's opinion. But the small, rational, part of my brain that was able to catalogue every single tribute objectively—much as I had catalogued Ben when he was Reaped—recognized the rigid masculinity of his features. The strong jawline and high cheekbones; the unnerving intensity of those eyes. People would fawn over him like they would Lambent, Chiffon, Ruby, and Ben. He had a look that would appeal to the Capitol, even behind the veneer of brutality and intimidation.

I laced my fingers together on my lap, wanting to just sink into my hopelessness. My palms were clammy, and we were only two districts in. My heartrate had not slowed even slightly. Again, I fought back words that would reveal the extent of my panic and dread.

To my surprise, while the commentary continued as the cameras remained panning between the District 2 tributes, Cato glanced over at Bastion, the other male tribute. Bastion was actually grinning at him, and the dark-haired boy muttered something the camera didn't pick up. Cato gave a quick shrug of his massive shoulders as the tiniest smirk appeared on his face, though his blue eyes remained harsh. I wondered how well they knew each other.

I realized it didn't matter.

I couldn't help myself—I turned to look at Johanna, who was staring at the screen mutinously. On her other side, Autumn looked even paler than usual. I was pretty sure she was shaking. Rudd's expression was impossible to read but he was slumped in his chair, eyes riveted on the screen.

I felt a light fluttering of panic in my chest, and fought vainly to push it aside. The atmosphere in the room was tense.

I was unable to stay quiet for any longer and I felt words spilling out of my mouth. I had to say something to break the icy tension that had been growing by the minute. I had to know that Johanna had some plan, despite the look on her face. Nobody else was saying what was on my mind.

"How the hell are we supposed to deal with that?" I blurt out, nervousness evident in my voice. "Just pray he can't climb trees?"

Johanna's expression was absolutely thunderous. "Let's hope none of you come across him the arena," she snapped back. "I don't care how good you are at throwing or handling axes."

"He'll probably be leading the Career pack," Blight added. "It'll make him even harder to take down."

Ben twisted to look at him. "Even with the tribute pair setup this year, you think they'll stick together?"

"I'm sure some at least some of them will," Blight responded.

I settled back in my chair, heaving out a heavy breath. My heart still felt like it was racing. At this rate, I'd keel over dead before even setting foot in the Arena.

Thankfully, the recap had moved on to District 3 now. I tried my absolute hardest to focus, to not lose my mind in a panic yet, to suppress my emotions. I could panic later when I was alone—I needed to pay attention to the recap as much as I could.

It was next to impossible, though. As they started showing the District 3 Reapings, my brain kept flashing back to the previous districts, mainly lingering on the unsettling gaze of the dark-haired boy from District 1, the mean sneer of the first girl from 2, and Cato's monstrous form and menacing gaze.

District 3 was mostly unremarkable, as it almost always was. They were the technology district; Careers weren't bred there. The tributes were all significantly smaller than the Careers, though I had no doubt most of them would be intelligent. I'd seen the occasional recap talking about how the District 3 Victors had won their games: very uniquely, using ingenuity instead of outright confrontation.

One of the two younger tributes Reaped couldn't have been older than thirteen – the Peacekeepers basically had to drag him on stage as he started panicking when he got close. Definitely not a good look, though I understood his reaction entirely.

I did note that the two tributes pulled from the older age group were both at least in their late forties. To me, that was almost better. They'd had more time to live. I'd felt bad enough when Autumn was Reaped at twenty-three.

The District 4 Reaping had me sitting forward in my seat again. This was the last Career district, after all. I felt a brief flicker of curiosity as their Justice Building popped up on the screen. District 4 also bordered District 7, on the southwest, though the terrain was vastly different. District 4 was located next to the ocean. I'd always wanted to see the ocean…not that I'd ever get the chance, then or now.

Three of the four tributes were volunteers. This was fairly expected. District 4 was a Career district, though occasionally someone was reaped without a volunteer.

The female volunteer, Azure, was almost as lovely as the blonde from District 1. She was tall, though not as muscled as some of the other Careers. Her hair was strawberry blonde and fell down her back in waves. When she smiled at the camera, dimples appeared on her cheeks, and she had quite a few freckles across her face from time spent under the sun, making her look innocent and endearing. She wasn't flirtatious like Chiffon from 1, and she didn't have the same type of sex appeal, but I could already see a competition in the Capitol forming for "prettiest female tribute."

The first boy to volunteer was named Marlin. Despite volunteering, he looked a bit on edge as he made his way up to the stage. His skin was also tan from time spent outdoors, but he had dark features. He stood on stage, shoving his hands in his pockets after announcing his name and age. He seemed almost uncomfortable standing there. I could see the strength in his shoulders and arms, though, and knew he'd definitely had some sort of training despite the fact that he wasn't as openly confident and smiling as some of the other Careers.

I felt bad for the second girl, the only tribute from 4 that had been Reaped without a volunteer, before chastising myself. I couldn't pity these people. They'd be trying to kill me. Still, I was somewhat surprised when nobody came forward to take her place. I guess District 4 hadn't always been as consistent with volunteers as 1 and 2, and they'd already coughed up three this year. Mariana was slender, and shorter than average height, with long hair drawn into two braids and nervous blue eyes. Her expression was withdrawn, but she kept her chin high as she strode on stage and took her place with the others. The girl did a pretty good job at not looking visibly horrified, but she fidgeted often as she stood up there.

The last boy, Caspian, was going to be another problem. A smirk was already plain on his attractive features as he volunteered. He was eighteen, and like a good little Career he oozed confidence as he took his place. He was built similarly to Lambent, perhaps slightly shorter. His tousled hair was a sun-kissed blonde. He wore it just long enough that I could see it had a slight curl at the ends. His eyes were a warm brown that would have been alluring, if not for the openly contemptuous look in them that matched the condescending sneer on his tanned face as he stood on stage. From initial impressions, he seemed like the most obvious threat from his district. I hoped the overbearing arrogance would catch up to him in the Arena. The commentators certainly liked him, of course; Caesar made a cheeky comment comparing the boy to Finnick Odair, though the two didn't look that similar.

Districts 5 and 6, like District 3, were largely unremarkable and nothing overly notable happened during those Reapings. The reactions were mostly as expected-shock, fear, sadness, loathing, resignation. The only specific tributes I really paid attention to were a girl from 5 that tripped and fell on her way to the stage (I tried not to openly wince, knowing the Careers would mark her as one of the easiest targets), a girl from 6 that cried when she was Reaped, and a boy (well, man) from District 6 who was probably in his fifties, and who was missing an arm.

I brushed aside the rush of sympathy that rose up in my chest. This was not the time or place.

Then, it was time to watch our own Reapings. I sat up in my chair slightly. My heartrate had finally calmed down over the last two Reapings, and now I was going to have to watch my own District's Reaping again. The thought made it speed up again, and my stomach churn once more. I was up first.

As expected, I looked completely shell-shocked and horrified when my name was called, the camera taking only a couple of seconds to find me. I definitely did a poor job of concealing my emotions. At least I didn't cry or throw up, though. I watched myself turn to Ivy, her reluctance to let go of my hand. Knowing myself better than anyone, I could recognize the exact moment where I realized that I had to try my best to keep my horror off my face, or at least appear angry. My jaw was clenched and my movements were stiff as I made my way on stage.

I closely watched my expression when I approached Minodora; my dislike was plain on my face. I continued to watch closely as I took my position on stage and Minodora prepared to call Benjamin's name; again, knowing myself, I could tell that I was locking my legs so tightly to stop from trembling. I could tell that my eyes were fixed on the trees in the distance so that I wouldn't see my family and cry. I could tell that it was taking significant effort to keep my body still, my angry expression fixed on my face without crumpling.

To anyone who didn't know me and who was just seeing me for the first time, though, I just looked pissed off. Good. That was better than looking terrified, crying, or fainting. I could work with that. I was too small to be overly intimidating, but my expression said that I would not just accept death lying down. Hopefully some potential Sponsors would take note.

Ben looked as shell-shocked as I did when his name was first called, but he got himself under control very quickly. His expression was nearly unreadable as he approached the stage. The commentators had mostly been quiet during the recap for each district until all four people had been Reaped, at which time they'd give plenty of colorful commentary. The recap was cut and edited in a way that there wasn't a lot of down time for them to comment on anything in too much detail until all four tributes were selected. The awkward walks to the stage were edited and cut down as needed to not drag anything out too long (except for the Career tributes; whoever edited this recap clearly wanted to show how quickly and confidently they moved to the stage).

Caesar and Claudius did occasionally intersperse a comment here and there, though, while the tribute was approaching the stage. After Ben was called, Caesar commented on how big and strong he looked, and Claudius agreed.

I had mixed feelings about that.

Autumn looked, well…as bad as I could remember. Pale, frail, and crying. Trembling like a leaf. I had to fight the urge to look away, to see how she reacted to watching herself up on screen. The only chance she had was a sympathy play. Part of me hoped she'd bring up her sickness. Then again, who would send Sponsor gifts to someone with those low of odds? I promptly felt awful for thinking that.

Rudd wasn't impressive, either, though he was fairly emotionless. The thick, grizzly beard helped him to at least look a bit intimidating and disguised some of his expression. I wondered if it was plain to anyone else to see that he was rather fond of alcohol. The small gut gave it away; there weren't very many people in District 7 who had that. Most people in—well, most the outer districts, I assumed—were on the thinner side. I knew Rudd was older, though, nearly sixty. Most men and women at that age probably wouldn't be in as good of shape as when they were in their twenties and thirties.

Caesar and Claudius didn't have a lot of interesting things to say about anyone besides Ben. They praised his build, and Caesar made a knowing, sly comment about how he'd probably have some fans at the Capitol. Then they mentioned how a lot of District 7 tributes were familiar with axes, so he no doubt had some advantages on his side. They then went into a quick offshoot about how previous District 7 Victors were good with axes.

To my very pleasant surprise, they even made one tiny comment about me. The camera had gotten a quick shot of when Ben and I exchanged glances on stage, then focused on a close up of my face for about two seconds. My jaw was set, my overwhelming frustration clear as I glared into the distance. I was happy I had maintained that expression for the majority of the Reaping event.

"I will say, though—Miss Ainsley may not have the size of her fellow young tribute, but look at that expression—she certainly looks like she won't go down without a fight, doesn't she?" Caesar commented. I could just picture him waggling his eyebrows at Claudius.

"That she does, Caesar, that she does!" Claudius replied in an upbeat tone. I knew that they just wanted to find anything else positive to say about District 7 besides talking about Ben. We aren't a Career district, and it was harder for them to fill the silence. And they couldn't exactly sing Autumn's and Rudd's praises.

I would take what I could get, though. From next to me, Ben nudged my arm reassuringly and tossed me a small smile. I tried to match his expression, but was unsure if I succeeded.

The next few Reapings seemed to pass by even more quickly, though I knew that wasn't the case. It was just that the worst of it was over; we had most likely already seen most of our fiercest competition. Most of the other districts were malnourished, their citizens standing in silence with haunted eyes I recognized too well.

Once again, I mainly mentally catalogued the people that stood out the most. There were so many faces flashing by, people condemned for death, that I wouldn't be able to keep them all straight. It was important to try to make note of the outliers, though. Whether they were outliers from being intimidating, or entirely the opposite. It was still hard not to feel sick to my stomach the entire time, though, the food from earlier really not settling well.

A thirteen-year-old girl from eight threw up on her way to the stage. Bloodbath, I thought grimly.

The other young tribute from 8 looked remarkably alert up there, his eyes shifting from side to side as he took in everything around him. He was obviously afraid, but the type not to want to miss anything going around him. Cautious, and probably very clever. I mentally made a note.

A man from nine had to ultimately be dragged up to the stage after he tried to fight the Peacekeepers from grabbing him. He was from the early thirties age group. He was scrappy, but skinny. As he wrenched against their hold, they jabbed him with some sort of device that jolted him, sending an electric current through his body that made him cry out in pain, and sag against the nearest Peacekeeper. He was much more placid after, but could hardly move on his own as they pulled him up.

One of the boys from ten was incredibly young, as well. His eyes were wide with terror, but he made his way up on stage and stood remarkably quietly for his youth. I heard sobbing in the background that only lasted for a second as the footage quickly cut to something else; it had to be his mother.

The other boy—man—from 10 was actually intimidating. He was tall, and well-muscled. He was in his late twenties. District 10 was responsible for livestock, I remembered. I wondered if he worked with strong animals a lot. He certainly had the build for it. He could be legitimate competition.

I knew District 11 was one of the poorest districts, poorer even than we were. Nobody from 11 really stood out except the older female tribute, who brushed her way to the stage haughtily. She was in her early forties, and had dark brown skin and eyes. She stood there, proud and cold, looking angry. She wasn't big and she didn't look strong, but she certainly carried herself with pride. I respected it.

Then came District 12. The poorest district, and the last to go. I suddenly felt a bit nervous. The Girl on Fire and the Baker's Boy who loved her had most likely angered Snow last year with their stunt. Would he try to take it out on their district?

As their escort approached the microphone, I let my eyes fall on the two newest Victors, the camera flickering to a close up for several seconds as Caesar and Claudius made a quick interjection to oooh and aaah about how close they were. The Girl on Fire—Katniss, I corrected myself—had olive-toned skin, and very dark hair braided to the side in a way that had now become iconic. She was slight of build, but her hard, steely-grey eyes had so much fire in them that I found myself surprised that I'd ever doubted she'd win the Games. She sat rigidly in her chair, back straight, as the boy next to her leaned in to whisper in her ear.

Peeta, I thought. Comically opposite to her in every way. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and stocky, he couldn't have looked much different than Katniss. But I recalled his personality from the interviews and before and after the games –he was kind, gentle, charismatic. Likable. Katniss had been fierce, cold, and intimidating, uncomfortable with all of the attention on her, but Peeta had done everything to bring out the best in her. I could see the way he looked at her. There was no doubt how he felt. They were to be married soon, I thought, though I wasn't sure when the wedding was actually set.

My eyes were torn away from them as the escort called the first female name and the camera focused on the crowd.

Small, pale, looked malnourished. It was what a lot of people assumed from District 12, though I knew I had seen stronger-looking tributes from 12 from time to time in the past, and the two last year had clearly come out swinging. This girl, however, was frail. Bloodbath, I found myself thinking again, and hated myself for it. It was entirely possible her new mentors would be smart enough to tell her to run for the trees.

Then it was time for the boy's name.

"Rory Hawthorne!"

The camera quickly panned to a boy that couldn't have been older than 12 or 13. Like Katniss, and a lot of people in the district from what I could see, he was olive-skinned and had dark hair. I didn't feel anything initially besides a pang of sadness seeing someone so young Reaped, until the camera panned over to Katniss and Peeta.

She was standing up, eyes flashing, a look of absolute horror and fury intermingled on her face. I saw her lips part to form a furious, "NO!"

Peeta was clinging to her arm, trying to pull her back before she could do anything reckless, and even Haymitch, the only other living 12 Victor who was perpetually drunk, looked alert enough to be concerned.

Clearly, she knew this boy personally. The camera then panned to the crowd and to an older, taller boy with a handsome face and similar features to Rory. He was standing in the nineteen through twenty-four age section, but he looked absolutely livid. He looked like he wanted to volunteer in the boy's place, though the rules wouldn't allow must have been Rory's brother, I thought…but what bothered me most was he looked vaguely familiar for some reason, and I couldn't pinpoint why.

The footage was edited in a way where it was difficult to see everything that happened. Next thing I knew, Rory was standing on stage. They didn't show the brother again, and I wondered what had occurred. The camera once again panned over to the Girl on Fire, who looked stricken, eyes glassy. I could tell her fiancé was trying to calm and reassure her, but mostly unsuccessfully. She looked like she wanted to rip from his grip and tackle the nearest Peacekeeper… or shoot him in the throat with an arrow.

Caesar and Claudius made some quick interjectory comments then and I realized why Katniss was so upset. Rory was apparently her cousin. Caesar said that Rory's older brother, Gale, had been interviewed during the Games last year when Katniss made the final eight. That was why he looked vaguely familiar to me.

"Fucking Snow," came a hissing, derisive voice to my left.

I turned to look at Johanna, eyes wide, shocked she'd openly say something like that in front of all of us and the Avox lurking in the corner. She didn't seem to care, though. It only took me a second to realize what she meant.

"Think that was on purpose?" I asked quietly, dreading the answer. Because of course it was.

"No shit!" she snapped in response.

President Snow wanted to punish the Girl on Fire for her little suicide pact. Because of that, he had to Reap someone she cared about. I felt ill.

It couldn't be her sister, or even her mother, I thought. The Capitol loved Primrose Everdeen, at least based on the sheer amount of footage and interviews I'd witnessed. They loved the story of Katniss being willing to sacrifice herself for Primrose. Reaping the young girl might actually anger some of the viewers. Besides, reaping Katniss' immediate family would be way too coincidental and obvious, the year after Katniss won. But a cousin? Slightly more believable. The older one—Gale—could have been Reaped, I supposed, given the rules for the Quarter Quell. But he seemed strong for someone from 12. He looked fierce and capable from the limited glimpses of him I'd had. He might have a shot at surviving. Maybe he could shoot a bow like Katniss could, if they were family and if they were close. He would probably carry a decent amount of Capitol favor after they remembered him from his interviews, too. He'd get Sponsors.

His little brother? Barely of Reaping age, it looked like? Much less likely to win. He'd get Sponsors too, just for his relation to the Girl on Fire. But he was at an inherent disadvantage due to his size and age.

It was awful, what President Snow was doing. There was zero chance it was coincidence. I refused to believe it.

The rest of the Reaping passed seemingly uneventfully—I suspected the footage was heavily edited to make it that way, as the Girl on Fire and Gale Hawthorne weren't shown again—with the remaining two tributes being closer to my father's age. One of them looked like he'd just come from the mines. The woman was thin, with hollow eyes.

I felt a wave of disgust. These people were going to die. I didn't want to kill them, I didn't want to kill anyone, but…somebody would be putting an end to their lives soon. Abruptly. Perhaps painfully.

My stomach churned as the wave of nausea returned. I wanted to leave this room.

It was time for Caesar and Claudius' final remarks, though if I were being completely honest, I didn't want to hear them. I had no interested in sitting here and listening to them harp on about how big and strong the Careers were, how a couple other outer district tributes looked "surprisingly" strong, how sad it was that The Girl on Fire's cousin had been Reaped.

It was the same shit every year, just with an extra sob story or two, and especially horrifying this year due to double the amount of people being Reaped.

I took a deep breath, feeling my nausea rise. My hands trembled slightly in my lap. Any adrenaline that had been building up before or during the recaps had abruptly deserted me and I just felt ill and hollow. My emotions roiled deep underneath the surface, wanting to spill out at a second's notice.

I had to get out of here.

"I'm going to my room, knock if you need me," I grit out before I could help myself. I sensed Ben toss me a look, but I ignored him as I moved to leave the lounge.

"Hey! Twiggy!" Johanna snapped from behind me. I whirled around to see she had turned in her chair, looking extremely irritated.

I scowled, hating the nickname immediately.

"Unfortunately for me, I'm stuck mentoring your scrawny ass. So suck it up and come sit back down so we can talk! It's barely dark outside!"

I guessed it was about 8:30 in the evening, but I just needed a break. A small one. Maybe I needed to throw up. I wasn't sure.

"Well fortunately for you, I'm feeling sick," I muttered, irritation evident in my voice. I was sick of her attitude. It wasn't even a lie.

She eyed me critically, but clearly some of my nausea was actually reflected on my face. "If you actually care about living, you'll come back as soon as you're feeling better so that I can actually mentor you for a bit. Then you can go cry yourself to sleep or whatever. I'll be in here for exactly one more hour."

I couldn't help it then – I openly glared at her, despising her scorn. Surely, she knew better than anyone how hard this was to deal with.

I spun back around and practically stomped to my room, not caring how immature it was in the moment, shutting the door tightly behind me.

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A/N: Our first introduction to good 'ol Cato ;) This was AN ABSOLUTE BEAST of a chapter. I didn't expect it to be so long, but there was nowhere to divide it when I wanted to get to the Reapings recap. I tried my best to edit but let me know if I missed anything. It's like 15k words, holy moly. Please let me know if there are jarring mistakes.

QUICK NOTE: Juniper/Ben will not be an actual pairing for this story. There may be some banter, or light flirting, or camaraderie that's inevitable given the situation they are in and the type of person Ben is. But I have much more fun stuff in store for June. The poor girl…. ;-)

Next up is the Capitol arrival!