~Chapter Six: Opening Ceremonies~

"There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me." ―Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

As we stepped into the elevator (thankfully not running into anyone on the way down), I was informed that Ben's team and stylist (Eudora, as I'd guessed) had finished more quickly than us, and were already waiting at the bottom of the Remake Center. Presumably, Autumn and Rudd and their teams would meet us down there too, though they would be riding in a separate chariot and coordinating with each other.

The door to the elevator opened, we walked down a short hallway, and then out another set of double doors. I glanced around, wide-eyed. The space outside of the Remake Center was huge, and a portion of it was taken up by a large stable where the horses pulling the chariots were kept and maintained for the Tribute Parade.

Of course, all of the horses were out and lined up with the chariots already, four per chariot, a safe distance away from the exit to the Remake Center.

And, milling about in clusters between us and the chariots, or even climbing into the chariots themselves in a couple of cases, were the other tributes. Most of them were already here, but not all. Apparently, we still had some time before it would start.

This was the first time I'd seen any of the other tributes in person. They'd staggered our arrival so the different districts didn't run into each other before now. I swallowed hard, my palms instantly feeling clammy as my heartrate sped up. I'd been trying not to think about this all day. I didn't want to see these people in person – the people who would be getting killed, or trying to kill me. All of us but two would be dead in the near future. It was an absolutely horrid thought.

I took a deep breath. Next to me, Orea must have sensed my nervousness as we began to walk in the direction of the District 7 chariot (chariots, I mentally corrected myself), moving this way and that to avoid the groups of people. "Don't you dare," she whispered under her breath. "My costume looks too good for you to ruin it by looking like a terrified child."

Her words were harsh, but helpful. She was right. I was in an amazing costume, and I barely looked like myself right now. Juniper Ainsley was nearly unrecognizable. I could hide behind the makeup, the body paint and the accessories, and pretend I was someone else. Pretend I was a fierce creature who had just come from the forest. Pretend I wasn't about to fight for my life for public entertainment.

With great effort, I tilted my head up, keeping my chin high, and straightened my spine. I forced what I hoped to be a completely uninterested look on my face – it was much easier knowing my makeup would really add to the look, and conceal some of my true emotion.

I refused to look at the other tributes as we walked towards the chariot, but I definitely felt some gazes on me. They pricked at my skin. I was tempted to turn my head, to see who was observing and judging me, but I knew that wasn't a good idea right now.

With forty-eight tributes out here, each with stylists and prep teams, it felt crowded despite the large area. There were a lot of people around, and the line of chariots was extremely long, since there were two dozen of them.

A couple people who had been grouped nearby shifted out of the way, then, and our chariots were finally visible. They were being led by powerful-looking, chestnut brown horses. They stood, still and obedient, even without anyone around to lead them. The chariots themselves had coloring that coordinated pretty well with the mottled body paint we wore, but weren't overly decorated. Nobody wanted to draw attention away from the tributes.

I was quickly distracted from the horses and chariots, though, when my eyes fell on Ben.

I'd admit it: he looked very, very good. Of course he did. The thought was almost a little bit annoying. I pushed away the annoyance and reminded myself that the better he looked, the better we'd do in the Parade.

Like mine, his stylist, Eudora (who Orea had said was her apprentice at some point) had covered most of his body in intricate, beautiful body paint that made him look like he'd strode out of the depths of the woods. The paint was similar to mine where it ran up one leg and one arm. Ben wore similar branch-like accessories and leaves encircling his limbs, as if he'd scarcely escaped the grasp of a vengeful forest. Other branches wound up and across part of his chest (though not to the point where it detracted from the body paint) and even wrapped around the bottom part of his neck in a thorny, necklace-like shape.

Unlike me, he had no heavy accessory piece on the top half of his body (advantage of being a boy, I supposed). A portion of his stomach was bare, though the paint that was present around his abdomen was carefully contoured. Clearly, the stylist wanted to show off his muscles. Ben had an accessory piece like mine on his lower half, a tighter cluster of leaves and branches cleverly concealing the area that they did not want to expose to the public. I was sure he wore skin-tight underwear similar to mine underneath. A crown of forest leaves sat in his light brown hair, mirroring mine.

The prep team hadn't really overdone his makeup. It seemed like they'd mainly used a bit of powder to accentuate his cheekbones, and had then added a hint of eyeliner and shadow to enhance his eyes, but not as drastically as mine.

We coordinated perfectly. He looked dangerous and fierce, like I did. We looked so much better than District 7 had ever looked since I could remember. I felt another rush of gratitude for our prep teams and stylists.

I saw Ben's stylist's eyes fall on me (she had been chatting with him animatedly) and her (far too pale) face absolutely lit up. She actually did a little hop of excitement, her shockingly yellow corkscrew curls bouncing with the movement. Ben turned around to follow her gaze.

Eudora began to hurry over to us, eyes flickering over to Orea. "Oh, she looks wonderful. But of course she does, with you as her stylist!" I heard her say, though I only spared her a quick glance and smile. Orea stood a bit straighter, always happy to be praised, naturally. From nearby, Eudora's prep team began to approach and mingle with mine, excited annoying Capitol voices chirping from every direction.

I wasn't really listening, though. Ben's eyes had widened and he actually looked shocked for a few seconds as he realized that this shimmering creature of body paint and branches was, in fact, me. Ignoring the stylists' conversation (not like they were talking to me anyway) I quickly made my way over to him. He was the only person I could feel semi-normal around right now anyway.

I did not miss the once-over he gave me, eyes lingering a bit as they roamed across my costume. I couldn't blame him. I had done the same thing to him, and even myself when I first saw the costume in the mirror.

"Woah, June," was all he said.

Articulate, I thought with mild amusement.

"You look good too," I responded instead, tossing him a small smile. He returned it, rubbing the back of his neck almost self-consciously. I decided I couldn't resist teasing him a bit. He was already slightly off his game, clearly. Plus, I wanted to lighten the mood. To not think about how we were about to trot out, half exposed, for the eyes of the hungry Capitol. I'd seize any distraction at this point.

"They really wanted to show off your muscles, huh?" I asked, pointedly glancing at the defining muscles of his abdomen. It was a rhetorical question.

Unfortunately, I forgot who I was dealing with and my plan backfired. His discomfort instantly vanished and turned into a charming smirk, the same one I'd seen on the train, the one he'd always used as a weapon on the girls in school back home.

"Enjoying the view?" He retorted.

"Fishing for compliments?" I shot back.

He smirked wider, stepping even closer. "I don't think I have to, you just gave me one. Guess the stylists did something right."

"Somehow, I don't think my approval is high on their priority list."

He laughed at that, and thankfully changed the subject, stepping away again. "They are much better than the usual costumes, yeah?"

I nodded. "We got really lucky this year. We actually stand out—and not in the bad way."

"Yeah, I think the Capitol will love it. We're definitely some of the better costumes this year. Although there are a couple of other really good ones." His eyes left my face, then, as he surveyed the other tributes and teams scattered about.

I decided now that I needed to suck it up and actually check out the competition. I felt a little more at ease now that I was with Ben, anyway…despite my misgivings about him and our situation initially, he was the only person right now who reminded me a bit of home. And he didn't spend his time either harping on about Capitol gossip or insulting me, so that was a win. Some of the nervousness that had struck me as we stepped outside had disappeared, and it was better to know what was going on around me.

I doubted any of the other tributes would be wandering over to make small talk. Rudd and Autumn weren't here yet, nor were our mentors…though I realized I didn't even know if they'd be here for this part. I was pretty sure they'd join us after the Tribute Parade, at least, to tell us how we did. But honestly, I wouldn't mind some last-minute advice, even if it was just reiterating what I'd already heard.

Be confident, I chastised myself. I forced myself to stand a little straighter as I turned around, following Ben's gaze and checking out the other tributes while I still had a chance to do so. A few of them were climbing into their chariots, but many others still milled about with their teams.

My eyes first fell on a pair of tributes from…District 3, I guessed. I vaguely recognized the boy as being the one that was very young and had to be dragged on stage. Their costumes were interesting. They caught my eye so quickly because they wore what pretty much looked like shiny, metallic jumpsuits. Tiny little wires crisscrossed across the jumpsuits. It looked odd now, but I was sure they'd light up something fantastic. I wondered if their stylists had been inspired to think outside-of-the-box after the impressive costume design by the District 12 stylist from last year. The other two tributes from their district didn't look nearly as good, wearing some sort of weird silvery mesh and oddly-shaped accessories clamped to their arms.

District 4 caught my eye next, as the whole group of tributes was walking past us towards their chariots a few ahead of ours, though I didn't see their stylists. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Although I knew their costumes had been designed in pairs instead of the stylists deliberately making all four of them coordinate, they all looked similar enough that you'd never know. Their stylists seemed to have been set on them wearing as little clothing as possible, particularly the boys. One blonde girl had some sort of sea-green, skin-tight dress on. The end of the dress was very long in the back, and ended in delicate shapes reminiscent of waves. The sides were cut in to show swathes of bronze skin; it was low cut enough in the front to leave nothing to the imagination. She had glimmering jewelry on her wrists and in her ears.

The other girl (the nervous one that had been Reaped, I recalled) was dressed more modestly, but not by much. Her dress was incredibly short, low cut and a pretty blue, with an arrangement of sea-shells and coral (at least, that's what I thought they were, based on pictures I'd seen in books at school) around her neck and head. The dress' texture looked like fish scales.

The first boy from 4 looked slightly annoyed and uncomfortable. He was bare-chested, but wearing skin-tight pants the same pretty blue color with a similar fish scale texture. He also wore an assortment of sea shells and coral around his neck.

The other boy from 4—the cocky one—was basically just wearing some sort of complex half-netting, half-undergarment (the same color as the sea-green dress worn by the blonde girl) on his lower half, strategically positioned to cover his groin area. He was also shirtless, but his stylist had done something to make his skin practically glow. His wrists and neck were dripping with fancy-looking jewelry, sea-green accents throughout.

The cocky boy glanced towards us as the group passed by, sizing the two of us up leisurely, a lazy smirk forming on his face. When his light brown eyes met mine, he tossed me a wink before turning back to face the front as they made their way to their chariot.

I scowled, annoyed. Clearly, he was already learning tricks from the District 4 mentor, Finnick Odair, who was notorious for that type of behavior.

My eyes continued to roam among the tributes, lingering on a pair from 8 – and not for any good reason. Their district was known for textiles, and apparently two of their stylists had decided to make them wear brightly-colored, ruffled monstrosities of fabric. The other two from their district actually looked presentable, though, their outfits equally as vibrant, but much sleeker.

District 10 was in rough shape as well. Every year, they wore getups that really leaned into their role as the livestock industry, with oddly-shaped hats that were apparently worn by those in their district who worked with, tended to, and herded animals. It was pretty much the same this year, though two of the tributes were wearing some sort of odd, thick belts that looked out of place. I wondered if they were meant to light up or something when the parade started.

I found myself curious then, despite my misgivings, about what the other two Career districts were wearing. I peered around, trying to spot any of them. Part of me didn't want to see, but better to get a glimpse of them now, to know what we were up against for the Parade.

After a few long moments, part of the crowd shifted and I spotted them a decent distance away, walking towards their chariot—well, two of them anyway. Lambent (the one my prep team really seemed to love) and Chiffon. They were hard to miss. Their costumes were every bit as eye-catching and interesting to look at as ours. Both of them wore form-fitting, dazzling golden costumes littered with jewels and gemstones of all types of colors—Chiffon wore a strapless dress that heavily emphasized her cleavage, with a matching neckpiece, while Lambent was in some sort of equally eye-catching tunic. They absolutely glittered and sparkled in the sunlight as every facet of light seemed to reflect off of the multitude of gems; more gems were woven in Chiffon's hair. Both of the tributes' eyeshadow had been done in golden hues. The two of them certainly looked befitting of the luxury district. I couldn't see the other two tributes from District 1, and assumed they were already at the chariot.

I didn't see anyone from District 2, either; there were too many groups of tributes, prep teams, stylists, Capitol servants, stable hands, and who-knows-what else running around to get a good glimpse at the front of the chariot line.

My concentration was broken, then, as Ben nudged me and pointed towards the entrance to the Remake Center – finally, Autumn and Rudd were arriving.

Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I expected. They didn't stand out nearly as much as we did, but it was an improvement over a lot of other District 7 costumes. They wouldn't be completely humiliated in front of the Capitol. Autumn wore a shimmery, long-sleeved green dress that almost reached her knees and had some sort of texture that looked like leaves; her skin had been touched with a peachy glow that gave her more color than normal. A dark brown belt was cinched at her waist. The stylists had put her hair in an elaborate updo (clearly she had extensions, too, since her hair was ordinarily shoulder-length) with some sort of headdress of leaves; unfortunately, it was not as subtle as my crown of leaves and branches, and stood out as the worst part of the costume. Her lips were a lovely pink. They hadn't done her eyes in too dramatic of a fashion. The whole ensemble made her look younger, healthier.

Rudd had cleverly been put in some type of form-fitting, long-sleeved bodysuit of the same green, shimmery color and leaf-like texture as Autumn's dress, but he had a dark brown sleeveless vest over it, and matching dark brown pants. The ensemble helped him look much more fit than he was, and I suspected that was the purpose of the bodysuit. His dark hair and beard had been trimmed and dyed to hide the grey streaks, and styled neatly, his slightly longer hair slicked back. They'd put enough powder on his face to hide some of the wrinkles, though the deep scar across his forehead was (likely deliberately) left visible. He wore a headdress of leaves that matched Autumn's, and also looked a bit ridiculous. Overall, though, they had cleaned him up pretty well.

Their stylists and prep teams joined ours and began chatting amongst themselves, practically talking over each other. Autumn and Rudd approached us somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing where else to go while our teams conversed. Autumn's eyes were wide as she looked between myself and Ben, studying our costumes, and even Rudd's eyes lingered on us.

"You guys look great," she said quietly as they approached. She stole another glance over at Ben, almost subconsciously, not that I blamed her. Rudd didn't say anything, but I could tell by his expression that he was surprised by how we'd turned out.

I smiled at Autumn in return; it was genuine. "You guys too," I responded, giving Rudd a nod as well. Because we all really did look good by District 7 standards. "We definitely got better stylists than previous years."

Autumn nodded, and Ben chimed in. "Remember the year they wore outfits made entirely out of grass? They looked like giant bushes. That had to itch."

I remembered all too well. That had been a rough year. "That wasn't nearly as bad as the time they both wore those giant capes of leaves. Remember how they got all tangled up, and part of the female tribute's got ripped out and almost hit the tributes behind them in the face?" I responded.

"True. Hmmm. That was a bad one. What about the pair that wore outfits made out of weirdly-shaped paper that one year?"

I snorted. "They probably had to be treated specifically for paper cuts after the parade," I retorted.

"They could've used those costumes as weapons in the Arena."

"With a weapon like that, you wouldn't even need Sponsors," I agreed.

The tiniest smile appeared on Autumn's face. It was the first time I had seen one.

Shortly afterwards, all four of the stylists made their way over (Autumn's and Rudd's both looking pretty envious of Ben and me, I noted) and we were being ushered into our respective chariots. Ben held out a hand to help me up after he stepped in first. I contemplated that I'd rather not risk looking like an idiot since it was a fairly big step up and I wasn't sure if this costume would move around at all when I tried to climb in, but then decided that I wasn't so useless that I couldn't even get in my own damn chariot. I appreciated his presence, but surely I didn't need his help for this tiny thing. I narrowed my eyes at him and then—with more effort than I cared to admit—I grabbed onto the railing, put my leg in the chariot and hoisted myself in none-too-gracefully. It was more difficult than it looked, and I hoped my costume didn't shift to expose anything uncomfortable as I managed to pull myself up. Ben raised his eyebrows and tossed me an amused look, which I ignored. Glancing around, I saw that Rudd and Autumn were immediately behind us, and the two District 6 tributes in front of us seemed rather unremarkable in darker, understated costumes. A good position for us to be in, I thought.

Orea and Eudora were there, then, giving some last-minute advice. "This costume deserves to be seen and adored," Orea was saying in that haughty voice. "Chin up. Smile, but mysteriously. Look as if you have a secret that the audience will just be dying to know. As if you're in on your own private joke. That for the right price, you'd let them in on it." I nodded. That somewhat aligned with the approach Johanna thought I should take anyway – clever and witty, charismatic and likable. Only now I had this costume on to add to the 'I'm mysterious and intimidating' factor.

"Make sure to wave at them, and blow a kiss now and then, but not too much. You need to be visually appealing, but not too obvious or easy."

With the way I looked right now, I thought I might actually be able to pull all of that off. I wasn't really the overly mysterious type normally (my face was an open book after all) but right now? I could do it. I already looked the part.

"Got it. Thank you," I said sincerely.

She nodded, then the two stylists were off. I didn't see our prep teams everywhere. They must have already left to get a good seat for the spectacle. I idly recalled, from previous games, hearing that the stylists and prep teams had special suites to watch the Tribute Parade, at least until we arrived in the City Circle; at that time, they'd head over to meet us in front of the Training Center and tell us how we did.

Ben and I were left alone, both of us fidgety. Now that we were actually in the chariots and the Tribute Parade was about to start, I felt the nerves starting to creep up again. I didn't love the thought of so many eyes on me. I knew it was necessary, and that this was my first chance to really get Sponsors, but it still made my skin crawl. A lot of the Capitol citizens would be looking at me like some sort of sexual object, or even as just another piece of meat in the games. Or maybe they wouldn't even really be looking at me at all, too distracted by some of the other amazing costumes. I wasn't sure which was worse.

I had to grit my teeth and do it, though. It could help save my life. I repeated that thought mentally, over and over again, to help work myself up into the right mindset for this.

Just a moment later, music abruptly started up to signify the start of the parade, trumpeted sounds echoing all around us, no doubt even louder out where the crowd was. Two massive doors grated open, slowly, and we were hit by a wave of sound. The crowd was more than eager to get a glimpse of us.

Then the chariots were off. As the very first one entered through the large doors—Lambent and Chiffon—the crowd grew even louder, a deafening cacophony that was almost overwhelming even all the way back there. The Parade had certainly started strong with those two in front. I swallowed nervously.

I couldn't see from this far back, and we weren't moving yet, so I had to judge what was going on by the swells of noise coming from the audience. They got noticeably louder as certain chariots emerged.

District 2's reception was another tidal wave of sound, every bit as loud as District 1's had been. Naturally. I couldn't see the chariots and I hadn't seen any of the District 2 tributes beforehand amidst all of the chaos (they must've already been at their chariots when we arrived), so I had no clue what they were wearing. I was sure they looked good, though.

The crowd still cheered for District 3, but it was definitely more muted than the cheers for the previous two Districts.

The sound swelled again for District 4, another Career district and fan-favorite, especially given how much skin the tributes were showing.

Then we were moving, and starting to approach the huge doors faster than I expected, as the first chariot from 5 exited to a more muted reception than 4 had gotten (unsurprisingly). Even with that, the noise was still overbearing. My nerves swelled again; I gripped the chariot tightly, palms clammy all of a sudden.

I sensed Ben looking down at me, and I glanced at him questioningly. "You ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I can be," I replied honestly, sounding a bit breathless.

"We definitely look the part." He spoke with absolute certainty, and I nodded.

I must've still looked wary, though, because he cracked a slight grin. "Don't worry, if you stumble and fall, I'll catch you. I'll make it look exceptionally gallant and brave."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "And make all those lonely people of the Capitol jealous? They'll want to poke my eyes out," I snarked back,turning away from him. He chuckled, and I couldn't help but relax slightly, realizing he had helped lighten my mood ever-so-slightly.

Then 6 was entering through the doors, to a similar reception to 5. I once again did not understand how the Capitol citizens had this much energy. They would scream themselves raw, and only half the tributes had gone through.

Then it was our turn.

I straightened my spine, tilted my chin up, and mustered all of my courage. I remembered Orea's words, and allowed a small, hopefully confident smile to appear on my face. I pictured what I looked like in this costume, and felt a surge of bravery. Wearing this, I could be what she wanted me to be.

I had to.

The tidal wave of noise pressed against my ears as we emerged, and I heard loud cheers erupt from nearby spectators, screaming "District 7! District 7!" Keeping my smile on my face, I raised a hand and turned to wave at them, resulting in even louder cheers. There were catcalls and wolf-whistles as the Capitol took in our attire.

They were definitely louder for us than they were for 5 and 6; there was no way I was imagining that. The sound pressed in all around me, bolstering my confidence a bit further.

My eyes flicked up and I saw what we looked like on one of the massive television screens above. It was hard to keep my confident expression, because I was simply awestruck again, though I managed it, keeping my arm up in a wave.

We looked alluring and mysterious, just as our stylists anticipated. But what caught my eyes the most was our body paint. It seemed to shimmer and almost change color under the various lights of the capitol, the jostling of the chariot, and the movement of our bodies as we turned to wave back and forth. It almost looked like it was shifting and moving as the chariot pulled us along. I hadn't been able to get the full effect in the mirror at the Remake Center, but I could sure see it now. Orea had outdone herself.

I smiled a bit wider then, feeling a fresh surge of confidence, and turned back to the crowd. I blew one kiss to the right side, to resounding cheers. I even managed to toss a wink at a particularly loud group of spectators, trying to look as flirty and mysterious as possible. The screech in response was piercing; I swear one of them practically swooned. They were absolutely loving this.

I idly wondered how Autumn and Rudd were doing behind us, if any of the Districts lining up behind us were getting the same response as we did; then I brushed the thought away. I could only focus on what I was doing.

When we'd first left the train, I had tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible. But here, now, I knew I needed to revise my strategy, to try to connect with the Capitol crowd as much as I could. And I felt like it would be easier, since I was now protected by my makeup, the incredible costume, this powerful shell of a mysterious forest being that I was currently wearing.

So, I looked from side to side, waving to the spectators as I did so, daring to make eye contact here and there. I pretended their painted faces and alternations and unnatural eye and hair colors didn't freak me out. I tried my hardest to keep the mysterious smile on my face, to remember Orea's words and pretend like I knew something all of them didn't.

I hoped my family was watching. That they would see how incredible my costume was, and think that this wasn't totally hopeless. I hoped Rowan and my father thought I was doing a good job at acting the part. I had to push the thought aside quickly, though, to avoid homesickness showing on my face.

"Benjamin!"

"Juniper!"

I realized now that some of them were even screaming our names in particular; they must have had some sort of Tribute guide to help them figure our names out, but I didn't care. In fact, it fueled my confidence even more.

Something whizzed by and Ben threw out an arm and expertly caught it; it was a beautiful flower. Another hit the side of the chariot then fell to the ground, and another nearly hit one of the horses. Several more followed after that. I knew we weren't the only chariot being showered with them—I could see other flowers floating through the air ahead, and many others already lay on the ground, likely thrown for Districts 1 and 2—but it was still flattering.

I tossed another (hopefully) sultry wink at the spectators, earning another excited wave of shrieks.

"For you," Ben says. I glanced up at him, to see his eyes glittering with mirth. He held the flower he'd caught out to me, knowing full well the Capitol would love that. We were no star-crossed lovers, but the Capitol would still eat up the chivalrous and gentlemanly gesture.

I toss him my most winning, endearing grin (I hoped) and took the flower from him, sniffing it. "Thank you!" I said as sweetly as I could, then turned to give the crowd another wave.

They went absolutely wild for the display, as Ben had known they would. We continued to greet the crowd with renewed vigor as we began to approach the place where Snow would give the speech from his balcony.

The noise seemed to abate slightly and I assumed the few districts behind us didn't have quite the effect that we did. I was selfishly excited about that.

Soon after this thought, however, something overtook the crowd – some sort of odd ripple surged through them, a brief moment of whispering and awe, before the sounds returned twofold. Suddenly, they were deafening again, hoarse from screaming.

I kept my confident smile on my face and continued to wave to the Capitol but glanced up on the screen- and quickly realized what they were staring at.

District 12—particularly, Rory Hawthorne's chariot—had made an appearance, enrapturing everyone. His stylist had outdone himself. It wasn't surprising.

Rory Hawthorne and a girl from his district were decked out in something that resembled a coal miner's outfit-but far, far more imposing. The stylist (Cinna, I remembered finally) had modified it to look almost like armor. It was sleek, but designed to give them bigger bulk than they actually had, and pitch-black. It almost seemed to absorb light. I wondered if he'd done something to the fabric to give that effect. Clearly, he had worked closely with the female tribute's stylist to make sure the coordination was perfect.

Both tributes had black streaked on their face reminiscent of the coal dust the District 12 citizens were often smudged with, but instead of smudges, it was more deliberate; like war paint, creating an intimidating effect. Both of their eyes were circled with black, imposing makeup, and whatever the prep team had done with the powders and the other makeup on their cheekbones and noses made them look incredible: severe and fierce. Rory was young, but even he looked ferocious. Cinna had taken something their district was known (and often mocked by the Capitol) for and turned it into something completely imposing. Much like he'd done last year.

That wasn't even the most intimidating part, though. With Cinna, of course there had to be something extra like the fire from last year. This year, it was some sort of smoke-thick, black smoke that billowed beneath the Tributes' feet, oozing out the sides of the chariot, snaking up into the air and surrounding them. It formed curling tendrils that almost looked like deliberate shapes. It trailed out behind the chariot for a good distance before dispersing.

The effect was incredible. They truly looked like two undead warriors who had just crawled out of the depths of the earth to seek vengeance on everyone else. The fact that he could create something that amazing and imposing with such young tributes was incredible. I was sure he had a lot of motivation, though. It was the Girl on Fire's cousin, after all.

I returned my gaze to the crowd again, realizing I had been staring at the screen for several seconds, and tried my best to keep my confident smile on my face, waving to the right and left once more. We just had to keep this up a bit longer, as we were just reaching the City Circle. The crowd had clearly been distracted by 12's display, but they had still loved us. It had still been better than I ever could've hoped this morning. I blew another kiss, resulting in an excited set of squeals as I pretended to aim it at one group of people in particular. There were still plenty of citizens screaming and cheering for District 7, and even yelling our individual names. I didn't find it hard to keep up the façade as we rolled into the loop of the City Circle.

Every building around the circle was chalk full of observing Capitol citizens pressed against the windows, the richest of the rich. I wondered what they'd had to do to get a spot up there, to earn such wealth, besides tread on the backs of the outer districts. I felt my smile falter a bit, and forced it back in place.

Our chariot finally slowed to a stop, and I relaxed a bit. I kept a neutral expression on my face, but I didn't need to put on quite the performance anymore. I knew the cameras would still show us occasionally, so I needed to still look pleasant and not annoyed to be here, but the hard part was over.

As we waited for the other chariots to arrive, I glanced around at the others already assembled, maintaining my neutral expression.

Most of the other chariots were arranged ahead of us but spread out so that we all had a perfect view of the balcony above. It was where Snow would stand to address us as part of the opening ceremonies, but I couldn't spot him yet.

My eyes automatically—against my better judgment—sought out the District 2 tributes, and I finally spotted them, a row ahead and far to my left.

They looked every bit as good as District 1 did, as good as we did.

The girl with dark red hair that had looked bored at the Reaping was with the dark-haired boy who had the burn scar on his face. In typical District 2 fashion, they were dressed as some sort of ancient warriors. Despite the fact that District 2 always wore some variation of this attire every year, it still looked incredible. The armor was of burnished silver this year, gleaming in the dimming light. Both of their arms were bare, and clearly their skin had been oiled, drawing attention to the contours of the muscles in their arms. I couldn't see the front of their armor, but even the amount of detail on the back and sides was incredible. It looked heavy, imposing, and expensive. Fitting for their district.

The other two, however, looked even better. I was grateful I couldn't see the entirety of Tatiana's cruel face from here, because she looked imposing enough from the side. She wore some sort of blood-red armor that seemed custom molded for her, tight around her torso. There were heavy plates that jutted sharply out from her shoulders, and there were additional spiked gauntlets on her forearms; her upper arms were bare, and I could see the burly muscles from here. The armor had black accents, though from this distance it was harder to make them out. A heavy helmet sat atop her sleek hair, jutting up on the top on each side. Additional blood-red armor was clasped around her upper and lower legs; it looked so heavy, but clearly it had been designed in a way where she could still move freely. She looked like some sort of bloody warrior of legend. Like the other District 2 tributes, but somehow darker and more violent. I could picture her wielding a weapon with malice.

She still paled in comparison, though, to Cato. Even from this distance I was able to tell that the Reaping recap hadn't lied about his size. He towered over his district partner. He was dressed similarly, except the colors of his armor complimented Tatiana's: his was black with red accents. He had the same leg plates and helmet, and the colors coordinated with hers nicely. The main difference was that he wasn't wearing armor around his torso. He had black shoulder plates and spiked gauntlets on his forearms, but from what I could see from this angle, his back and his chest were bare of armor. The shoulder plates were held on by a pair of buckles and straps that appeared to stretch across his back and under his arms. Because Cato was so bulky, it looked like the straps were about stretched thin, which honestly (and I'm sure intentionally) contributed to the intimidating look. Unlike Tatiana, he wore a blood-red cape-like accessory, which was fluttering behind him in the wind. Most tributes probably couldn't pull it off, but on Cato, it looked imposing.

I felt a surge of nervousness, and quickly took my eyes from the pair, already feel like I had been staring at them far too long. This was not the time to let my unease get to me. Especially when the Capitol was watching. I let my eyes wander around the rest of the Tributes, trying my best to look calm, stoic and mysterious. I hoped I was successful.

Ben's presence was actually fairly calm and reassuring next to me. I knew he probably looked as settled and stoic as he had on stage on Reaping Day. I remembered his gesture of giving me the flower during the Parade, and felt grateful; it would only endear us to the Capitol. I looked up at him and we shared the briefest of glances before I turned back to face the front.

Finally, all the chariots were in place. The music quieted down after a final loud blare of dramatic trumpeting. I hadn't even noticed it after a while. I glanced up to the balcony above us, where Snow would give the opening ceremonies address. This is where I would absolutely have to try my hardest to be stoic and not let my dislike show. I knew the cameras would cut away to our faces at least once while he spoke. The despicable man had approached the balcony and was now standing there, arms raised to quiet the crowd. Snow looked thinner than he did on television, even at this distance. The always-present white rose sat in his suit pocket. His white hair was neatly combed back, and he wore an inscrutable expression.

The Capitol crowd quieted then. I tilted my chin up and rested my eyes on Snow. I was hoping my shell of makeup did its job and hid any lingering distaste in my expression.

He began to speak, then, giving the same traditional opening ceremonies speech he did every year. He welcomed us, said some nonsense about courage and sacrifice. Wished us a Happy Hunger games. Made a comment about this being a very special year, with the Quell and all, as if we didn't already know. He even mentioned something about the extra dangers we would have to face this year—that was not normally in the speech from what I could remember from watching it on television in previous years, and I barely managed to keep a grimace from slipping onto my features.

I really hated him.

At the end of the (fortunately fairly brief) speech, Snow gave the most famous line that we heard every year, "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Yeah right.

And then that part of the opening ceremonies was over, and the chariots were taking off yet again. Each one would do one more leisurely, final loop around the City Circle before taking us to the Training Center, a massive and imposing building that stretched into the sky, where we would reside and train until the Games. I fixed my smile back on my face, throwing a couple more waves and another kiss at the spectators in the windows of the buildings above the City Circle. It certainly couldn't hurt. From the corner of my eye, I could see the large screens above the Circle. Although Rory Hawthorne and his smoky chariot probably got more attention than anyone, the camera still cut to us multiple times. It also cut to Districts 1 and 2, and 4, as always. Surprisingly, even 3 got some attention with their costumes all lit up, and it also panned to 10 once. Their belts I had noticed earlier were lit up in a comically weak imitation of the fiery costumes from 12 last year.

In my chest, I felt some relief well up as we headed towards the Training Center. The first trial of my time in the Capitol was over. We'd done pretty well. We'd looked good. We had potentially attracted some Sponsors. I'd hopefully pulled off something likable for the cameras.

Maybe I could retain some sense of sanity over the coming days.

…

The chariots made their way in through the massive set of doors that led into the courtyard in front of the Training Center. Each chariot pulled over to one side of the courtyard, the chariots that had entered first pulling further into the courtyard to allow room, the horses immaculately trained to the point where they knew exactly where to stop.

The courtyard was big enough to accommodate all of the tributes and horses, but as I glanced over towards the doors that led into the Training Center, I realized it was going to be pretty crowded with all of the prep teams, stylists, and (presumably) mentors joining us.

And plenty were already here. The first several chariots that had already arrived were being swarmed by the colorful, freakish Capitol prep teams, surrounded by excited babble and chatter. Some of the stylists (especially from Districts 1 and 2) were practically preening themselves. The District 2 prep team seemed especially loud, but it was hard to tell with all of the people jostling about, the high-pitched voices and grating accents all running together to create all too much noise that echoed around the courtyard. I preferred the roar of the crowd during the Parade; at least then, I couldn't hear too many specific, annoying voices, and I knew at least some of them were cheering for me.

Ben had just made a comment about whether we should go ahead and get down and find our prep team when I saw them – like a herd of colorful, excited birds they pushed past a group from District 8 and surrounded the chariot. Althea was practically squealing with delight, continuous praise leaving her lips, her voice an octave higher than normal. Arsenio was actually rushing to agree with her, while Lotus was nodding. Ben's prep team was equally as excited, and the group of gaudy men and women practically talked over each other to chatter about "how great we looked and how wonderful we did and how a lot of people in the Capitol had just fallen in love with us and how Ben giving me the flower had been so sweet and gallant and how the crowds had eaten it up and how it was so much better than anyone from District 7 had done for years" (and probably many other compliments I didn't hear because they spoke so quickly and nearly unintelligibly).

I only smiled and nodded, feeling some of my energy waning, wanting to get down from this chariot. My legs were even starting to feel the tiniest bit shaky from the day's exertions and all of the associated stress. Now that the Parade was over, the adrenaline had dissipated, leaving me feeling empty and reminding me just how much I'd been through in the last day and a half.

As if reading my thoughts, Ben hopped down from his side of the chariot and walked to mine, again holding a hand out to help me.

The extremely obnoxious awwww that came from Althea and some of the other prep team members made me almost want to refuse his hand on principle, but I was pretty sure I'd faceplant if I tried to get down on my own. It had been hard enough getting up, and the sudden lack of adrenaline made me feel weak and a bit trembly.

With an elaborate eyeroll that was probably way more exaggerated than was called for in the situation, I took his hand and let him help me down, pretending I didn't notice when he grabbed my waist to steady me when I wobbled ever-so-slightly.

I definitely would have at least tripped if I had gotten down on my own, so I decided it was a good call swallowing my pride in that one circumstance.

Our prep team turned then as Althea squealed yet again in excitement, and I saw Orea and Eudora approaching us. Eudora looked ecstatic, and Orea wore a triumphant, haughty smirk that I took to mean I did well.

As they reached out group Orea looked me up and down once, and gave me a nod of approval. I immediately felt a smile on my face form in response. I really had pulled it off. Eudora was just gushing compliments, which made our prep team start talking about the Parade again, and I felt my energy wane even further as their chipper voices assaulted my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Autumn and Rudd standing nearby with their teams; Autumn looked extremely pale even through her makeup. Their prep teams didn't look upset, but not as thrilled as ours. I hoped she had done okay. I felt another twinge of sympathy, though I wished I didn't.

The stylists gestured at us to follow them, then; apparently our mentors were waiting inside the double doors to the training center, where there was a huge lobby. "Johanna wanted to talk to you," Orea said to Ben and me, though I couldn't read the expression on her face.

We nodded and began to follow them. There were still a few groups of tributes and prep teams standing around in the courtyard and talking, but it looked like most had already gone inside to rejoin their mentors or head upstairs to the floors they'd be staying on. I knew there would be a recap of the Parade later tonight.

I glanced back to see that Autumn and Rudd's prep teams had noted our departure and they all turned to walk towards the Training Center as well, a short distance behind us. Poor Autumn was looking exhausted and frail, and I realized that the adrenaline wearing off probably hit her harder than me. I wasn't sure exactly what her illness was, but I knew it left her with less appetite and energy than I had…and I was already feeling the effects of today pretty significantly.

We were about halfway between where our chariots had stopped and the large, glass double doors to the lobby of the Training Center when I heard a loud outbreak of noise—and shrieks—somewhere to our right.

I abruptly turned to see what the source of the commotion was. My eyes fell on a sight that shouldn't have been comical, but almost was, in some sort of twisted way.

Someone on Tatiana from District 2's prep team had clearly done something to incur the wrath of the menacing tribute. Tatiana's helmet was off but she was still adorned in the rest of her costume. Face twisted in a menacing snarl she stood there, fists balled. Her brawny form towered imposingly over the pink-haired Capitol woman, who was sitting right on her Capitol ass on the ground, no doubt getting dust on her expensive clothing. Tatiana had clearly shoved her down. They weren't too far away from us so I could see that the tribute's eyes were narrowed into slits and she legitimately looked like she wanted to murder the person on her prep team (or was it her stylist? I supposed I couldn't be sure) for whatever grievous offense she'd committed. The other members of the prep team were hovering and fluttering about in a near-panic as if they weren't sure what to do—they weren't going to grab Tatiana and hold her back, and they clearly didn't want to incur her wrath by helping the other woman up.

"I should flay you alive for that!" Tatiana spit, voice coming out in a hiss. The Capitol woman cowered on the ground, muttering out some sort of terrified apology, though she didn't move to stand up with the imposing girl standing right over her.

What a drama queen, I thought.

Cato stood nearby, one of his arms adjusting something on his costume. He was watching the altercation, but his face looked entirely bored, as if he couldn't be bothered by whatever his district partner was annoyed about. From this (unfortunately too short) distance I could get glimpses of parts of his costume I didn't see in the parade – namely, that the straps holding his shoulder plates crisscrossed over the top part of his bare chest as well, and that the stylist had clearly oiled his skin up just as much as the other District 2 tributes had been, probably to emphasize his build.

It was terrifying to look at, though I was sure the Capitol loved it. He must have spent every hour of every single day training from a ridiculously young age to get his body honed to that level. He looked like a living weapon. I supposed that's what he was meant to be.

Our prep teams and stylists had stopped and turned with Ben and I to watch the commotion unfold, as had a couple other stragglers nearby. All of us were transfixed, wanting to see what Tatiana would to do this poor woman who offended her. I was sure someone would step in if the District 2 tribute looked like she actually intended to cause some sort of permanent damage…hopefully. There was a man nearby that I presumed to be a stable-hand judging by his attire, frowning with concern.

Tatiana didn't seem to notice that she had a group of spectators. She hissed another threat to the woman on the ground, saying something that sounded vaguely along the lines of "you'll be doing every single thing I say until I'm in the arena or you'll pay for it."

Cato, unfortunately, was more observant than his district partner.

Those icy-blue eyes flicked up, settling the little group of spectators that had gathered. His expression immediately hardened from boredom into something threatening as his gaze fell on Ben first, the biggest and most noticeable person in our group. Ben tensed up next to me immediately, sensing the danger. We both had no desire to capture the notice of the most dangerous tribute in the arena, and I knew Ben must have been immensely uncomfortable. To his credit, from what I could see from the corner of my eye, Ben didn't flinch or shift in discomfort under Cato's intimidating glare. Cato's expression was hard, and emanated dislike for the boy next to me.

But only a couple seconds later, those unnerving eyes slid to meet mine. I felt my back stiffen, and my mouth went dry with fear. It was a visceral response to the sense of danger.

Immediately after making eye contact with me, Cato's jaw tensed and his posture shifted as well; his fists clenched at his sides, muscles subconsciously flexing in his arms. While his gaze on Ben had been threatening, I could've sworn it darkened even further when he looked at me. Something like genuine anger—or was it disgust?—flickered in his expression. His eyes narrowed.

He was thinking about killing me, I could tell. It wasn't a ridiculous guess, of course. We were both going to be fighting for the death in the Arena. But right now, as his eyes bore fiercely into mine, it was almost as if I could read his mind. He was picturing, very vividly, how he would end my life.

I felt something cold settle deep in my stomach, as my heartrate sped up against my will. Cato was the predator, and I was the prey. I knew a quick flick of his wrist would snap my neck. I gritted my teeth, knowing my terror was probably plain on my face. A part of my mind was screaming at me to force my face into a neutral expression, or to look away from him. To move my feet until I was in the Training Center, far away from him. But I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from his, and my feet were rooted to the ground. Maybe the same part of me that recognized the animalistic intent to kill in his eyes refused to let me turn my back on it. It wanted me to face the threat head-on. Or maybe, I was just so stunned by the absolute menace in his eyes—boring into mine relentlessly—that my brain couldn't process anything else.

I knew he was a dangerous monster; I just didn't know why he appeared to be directing a special amount of his murderous intent at me.

It felt like Cato glared at me for half a lifetime before my saving grace arrived…but realistically, I knew it was probably just several, painfully drawn-out seconds before something intervened that broke our eye contact.

The intervention came from Ben, who had grabbed my arm and jerked me in the direction of the Training Center, forcing my body to turn towards him and my gaze to snap away from Cato's as Ben pulled me along. His hand clutched my arm tightly, probably tighter than he realized.

Our prep teams were moving again too, chattering amongst themselves; I wondered if any of them had noticed. They weren't the sharpest bunch, though maybe Orea had seen the stare-down. Hell, maybe I was mentally exaggerating the interaction. Wouldn't be the first time I exaggerated something in my life due to nerves or exhaustion. I did detect some underlying tension in the prep teams' voices, though, as they conversed while we headed towards the Training Center lobby. Maybe they had just been intimidated by Tatiana's display.

The interaction, however, had left me shaken to the core. It only served to worsen the tiredness I was starting to feel after the parade, my dwindling reserves of energy. It was the first time someone had looked at me with the open intent to murder me. Sadly, I knew it wouldn't be the last. I was just shocked at the murderous intensity that had immediately been in Cato's expression when he focused on me. Shocked at how personal it seemed.

I hoped I was just imagining it. I was on edge, after all.

I didn't even bother glancing back to see what had become of Tatiana and the Capitol woman from her team as we reached the glass doors to the Training Center lobby. I didn't want to risk making eye contact with the monstrous boy again.

…

Only a few seconds after we entered the (extremely spacious, well-lit, and expensively furnished) lobby, Ben released his near-painful grasp on my arm. I knew he wanted to say something but couldn't, with all these people around. And almost immediately, I heard someone addressing us in a familiar sardonic tone.

"Well, well, well," Johanna said, none-too-politely shoving past a group from District 3 and approaching us, an eyebrow raised. She didn't look as annoyed as normal, thankfully. "Color me impressed. You two managed to not totally suck out there."

Her eyes flicked down to me, and a small smirk formed on her face. "Well. I knew Benny Boy would do okay. But you, surprisingly, did not drag him down. You almost seemed like you were enjoying yourself. I'm shocked that you pulled it off."

I just shrugged. I was getting more used to her jibes, and I could tell that for Johanna, this was the equivalent of a compliment. Plus, I really didn't have the energy to get worked up over her attitude right now. "Orea's costume helped a lot," I responded honestly. "And I just followed Ben's lead."

I realized Orea and the rest of our crew weren't with us at the moment – they had gone to socialize with some other prep teams and stylists clustered around the large lobby.

"Thankfully. I can't imagine what would happen if you'd called the shots out there. It is nice that the two of you didn't look completely ridiculous like our district normally does." There was almost a tinge of bitterness in Johanna's voice. She probably hated her own costume in her Tribute Parade, I realized. Her eyes shifted to Ben. "The flower was a nice touch. I kinda wanted to puke, but it made you seem extra charming to the Capitol."

The familiar smirk formed on Ben's face. "I figured it was the least I could do," he responded.

Blight walked up to us then, nodding as he glanced between the two of us. "Well done," was all he said. Blight was not exactly a man of many words, though when he spoke, it seemed sincere. He clutched a small glass of dark red liquid in his hand. I hoped for Autumn and Rudd's sake he wouldn't partake too much, though he seemed well put together right now. The Training Center didn't have room for another drunk mentor; District 12's Haymitch always made a spectacle of himself at one point or another during the Games, usually on Reaping Day. Any time a camera got a glimpse of him, he seemed completely intoxicated. Although, I remembered with a start, this year the Girl on Fire and her fellow Victor would also be here as mentors. I had yet to see them, though. I surreptitiously glanced around, but I couldn't see any of the District 12 tributes or mentors. Perhaps they were still outside or had retired to their floor already.

I saw Blight glance past us, likely looking for his tributes, and he ambled away when he spotted them. I shifted slightly, really just wanting to sit down at this point. I still felt drained, and my feet were starting to hurt. My costume was surprisingly pretty easy to be in despite all of the paint and accessories, but I would much rather be wearing something meant for comfort.

"So, what's next?" Ben was asking.

"They'll have a recap of the Parade pretty soon. Then they're going to make some exciting announcements about the actual Arena this year." I didn't like the sound of that, and judging by the look on Johanna's face, she didn't either.

"After that, it'll be the same shit those brainless idiots normally do. They'll talk, and talk, and talk about the tributes. Which tributes are the strongest, or the best looking, or the most likely to win. Which tributes made the biggest impression tonight." She scoffed, revulsion dripping from every word. "They'll do what the Capitol does best. Gossip, speculate, and over-dramatize. They share any especially interesting tidbits they've dug up. They've spent the last day poking around all of your lives back in your home districts, looking for any dirt they can get their claws on. All they care about is a story, good or bad."

I could see the hatred and disgust plain on Johanna's face. I wondered if the Capitol had found any especially interesting details about her life back in 7 before she was in the Games.

I grimaced, remembering that the Capitol always dug through the lives of every Tribute just to see what tidbits they could find, to put on display. Fortunately for me, I was a pretty unremarkable girl from 7.

Johanna seemed to notice my expression, because her disgusted look morphed into a smirk. "Don't worry. You don't seem like the type that would have any skeletons in your closet that the Capitol would find interesting enough to talk about."

It was like she'd read my thoughts. I wasn't really offended, because she was right. Most of my life had been pretty boring by the Capitol standards. I was sure plenty of other tributes had lost a parent, or experienced hardship growing up like I had.

Her expression turned contemplative, then. "Although the two of you looked surprisingly passable—well, surprising in your case Twigster—during the Parade. So you'd better hope you get at least a small feature during the recap."

"You think we had a pretty good shot at snagging some Sponsors from our performance?" Ben asked.

She shrugged. "It was definitely a way better show than District 7 normally puts on. That little stunt with the flower probably helped."

He grinned then, lightly bumping me with his elbow. I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my face in return, despite my tiredness. I was really wanting to just…sit down. I was about to ask Johanna if we could all head upstairs—it looked like plenty of other groups of tributes, mentors and prep teams were already gathered by one of two glass elevators waiting to head up—when my dreams of showering then lying in a soft bed were cut short.

"Am I interrupting something?" A silky-smooth, unfamiliar voice cut in.

I turned, feeling a jolt of surprise as my eyes landed on the man who was standing only a few feet away: none other than Finnick Odair.

Notorious sex symbol, Capitol playboy, youngest ever Victor of the Hunger Games. He was handsome, disarmingly so, even more attractive than he'd appeared the numerous times I'd seen him on television. The Victor was tall and very well-built, with the tan shared by many others from his district. He had sculpted features—features that Capitol residents would probably pay a fortune to try to achieve—and bronze hair that looked like he'd just run his fingers through it. His eyes were a lovely green, almost the same color as the District 4 girl's parade dress. Finnick had a bright grin on his face as he winked at Johanna, teeth white against his tanned skin. I blinked at him, momentarily lost for words and glad his focus wasn't on me.

"Like you'd care if you were," Johanna responded, but I was surprised to notice that she didn't actually sound that annoyed.

Finnick gave an easy shrug. "You're probably right. This just seemed like a good time to get a little introduction going." He grinned yet again, turning to face Ben and me. I hoped I had composed myself. I had seen attractive men in my life from time to time, but Finnick really was in a league of his own. It was a type of intimidating I wasn't used to.

Then, however, he gestured to the person to his right and slightly behind him, who I hadn't even noticed until now because I was so caught off guard by Finnick.

The cocky, blonde, smirking boy from 4. The same boy that had winked in my direction earlier. Caspian, I remembered belatedly, as he was one of the other tributes I'd marked as notable to the point of making an effort to remember his name.

Great.

I hadn't yet been forced to talk to any of the other tributes outside of 7, and I was honestly completely fine with that. Finnick, apparently, had other plans.

"7, this is Caspian," he said lightly. "Play nice," he instructed his tribute in a low voice, but loud enough that he clearly meant for us to hear.

That annoying smirk was still present on the boy from 4's face; did it ever leave? He turned to Ben, sizing him up appraisingly. I wanted to shift from foot to foot, and I glanced at Ben to see his reaction. I didn't think he had intended to spend any time socializing with the Careers. Especially this boy, who was obviously a threat. He was dressed ridiculously right now—he was the one whose stylist decided to show as much skin as possible and put him only in netting and jewelry—but even I knew he was dangerous. He was a Career. He'd volunteered for this, and he'd been trained to kill. After a second or two, he gave Ben a nod.

"How's it going," Caspian said by way of introduction, not sounding like he particularly cared.

Ben, fortunately, was much better at hiding discomfort than I was. He returned the boy's nod. "Hey. I'm Benjamin," he responded, voice completely neutral.

Then Caspian turned to me, and I felt my expression immediately shift into a scowl; I didn't like the way I felt under his stare. His eyes—an unusual shade of amber that might look pleasant on someone more likable—sized me up the same they had Ben, except they pointedly lingered on certain parts of my body conveniently covered by my accessories. I knew he was doing it on purpose so that I'd notice, probably to get under my skin. It was working. The exhaustion that had started crawling up on me after the Parade certainly didn't help. My nerves were more raw than usual.

"And you are…?" he drawled then, raising an eyebrow. I tried to smooth my face into a neutral expression. I didn't want to let him know his tactics were already irritating me.

"Juniper," I responded almost curtly.

Caspian's smirk widened. "Nice costume, Juniper," he responded, eyes flicking back down over my body, lingering again in a very obvious manner.

My annoyance surged.

"Thanks. Where's the rest of yours?" I retorted.

I sensed Johanna's glare burning into the side of my head.

To my surprise, Caspian actually barked out a laugh, though it was a cruel, haughty sound. "My stylist didn't see fit to include it. I haven't heard any complaints though," he responded, the arrogance just oozing from his tone.

"Well, consider this your first one," I snapped back. Ben cleared his throat, poorly concealing his amusement at my response.

I really had next to no patience at this point. The day's events—the events from the past two days—and the lack of sleep, coupled with being tortured by my prep team for half the day and paraded in front of leering Capitol citizens, did not leave me in a mood to deal with him.

I just wanted to sit down. Or lie down. And pretend none of this was happening.

"June!" Johanna snapped then, cutting off whatever the blonde boy was about to say. He looked not the slightest bit perturbed by my comment, smirk back in place. Somehow, it just pissed me off more.

I knew she was somewhat annoyed, not even using one of those detestable nicknames for me. "Can't you, for three seconds, just pretend to have a tolerable personality?" she demanded.

There was a small chuckle, then, but this one was from Finnick. In my simmering frustration, I'd actually almost forgotten he was standing there. To my surprise, he looked highly entertained by the whole exchange, green eyes twinkling as he observed me. "Honestly, Johanna, I'm impressed. She's almost as friendly as you were when we first met." He tossed her a winning smile.

Johanna huffed. "Oh, fuck off, Odair," she snapped back—but again, there wasn't as much heat behind it as I'd expect. I wondered if the two of them actually got along, as much as Johanna could get along with anyone.

Finnick held his hands up in mock surrender. "Look, all I wanted to do was get them to mingle," he said. "And now I have."

I fought off the prickle of nervousness as I addressed Finnick. It was better than talking to Caspian. "Why? We aren't Careers. And we don't know the pairings yet."

A small, knowing smirk appeared on Finnick's face. "Of course. But it's always good to keep options open," he said, waggling his eyebrows almost suggestively. I tried not to blush like a pathetic schoolgirl. No wonder the women of the Capitol loved him—the charm and confidence just seemed effortless.

"Don't get too flattered, Twiglet," Johanna broke in, then. I sensed more than saw Caspian's amusement increase as he heard the nickname. "Finnick and I mainly wanted Ben and Caspian to meet. You just happened to be here."

I made a mental note to ask Johanna what she meant later; did she honestly expect the two of them to ally before we even knew the pairings? Ben allying with a Career?

"Wow, ease up on the flattery," I retorted. "Wouldn't want me going into the Arena with a big head."

Finnick's smirk widened.

"The only thing big about you is your temper," Johanna responded coolly.

"Well, then at least we'll have something in common besides our district while you're mentoring me," I shot back.

Finnick chuckled again, and even Ben snorted under his breath. Caspian was looking between me and Johanna now, eyebrows raised. I supposed mentors and their tributes weren't supposed to spend all their time arguing. It was almost comforting to me, though, in a way. I knew Johanna was being honest with me, at least. And she wasn't chattering stupid nonsense to me all day like the people from the Capitol.

Johanna's eyes had narrowed. "I don't think you want to test my temper, Twig," she replied, but she didn't actually sound as angry as I'd expected. Maybe Finnick had a calming effect on her.

Finnick placed a hand on her shoulder placatingly. She shrugged him off, giving him a half-hearted glare. "Oh, the things I would do to be a fly on the wall of the District 7 apartment," he said teasingly.

"I bet you would, perv," Johanna countered. The implication made me blush slightly.

"Perv?" Finnick asked incredulously, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. "You wound me! I obviously meant that I could listen to this bickering all day."

Johanna just rolled her eyes, and Finnick continued, "Besides, I resent the implication that someone wouldn't let me into their apartment willingly if that were my intent."

I wasn't sure if he meant Johanna specifically, or the people of the Capitol generally. Probably both.

"Wow, you're especially insufferable today," she retorted.

"Your tribute serves as an inspiration to get under your skin," and then he winked at me, and I was momentarily disarmed again. I smiled somewhat awkwardly in response, having no clue how to behave around him. But fortunately, Finnick had turned to say something else to Caspian and I took the opportunity to look around, to seize any distraction I could. My feet were really starting to hurt now, and I felt like an empty vessel, all the adrenaline having already leaked out. My bones ached. The nightmare-fueled sleep from last night hadn't done much. Today had been an insanely busy day, and now being forced into awkward conversations with people I didn't want to talk to didn't help.

Quite a few people had left the lobby by now, or were clustered waiting for one of the two elevators sitting next to each other. Each elevator was very large and could probably fit ten people. Well, ten normally sized people. Not ten Catos.

As Johanna joined Finnick and Caspian's conversation, my focus was momentarily caught by our other fellow district tributes. Now that more of the crowd had cleared out, I could see that there was actually a couch and set of chairs not too far away from us in the lobby, and the two of them were situated there. I couldn't see Blight anywhere. Rudd looked half asleep already, and I was jealous. I was also jealous I hadn't spotted the furniture earlier, though I wasn't sure I could even sit down in this costume. I wasn't sure if the branch-shaped accessories would take kindly to me contorting myself at all. I'd already been worried about flashing everyone when I stepped into the chariot.

Then again, I was so tired right now, I didn't really care.

What had really caught my eye, though, was Autumn. She was so pale, lying back against the chair she sat in, and even from here I saw her legs shaking. Her position looked horribly unnatural. She seemed like she might pass out at any second. Rudd didn't appear to be paying any attention, but I couldn't help but think how tiring today was for me, and how much more it would impact her with her illness. I didn't want to feel any sympathy, or pity, but I was still human. She was still a fellow tribute from District 7. I could at least try to get her some water, or something. It would be pretty awful if she passed out here with nobody to help her. I wanted to think Rudd would help, but who knew? He was practically asleep. Maybe Blight had gone to grab something to help, but I didn't see him around.

Plus, this would let me escape any further interactions with Caspian.

My feet were moving towards the pair before I could stop them. An annoyed voice rang out after me, "Hey! Where exactly are you going? We're about to head up!"

I turned and glanced over my shoulder to see Johanna's annoyed eyes on me, but she quickly gauged my destination and her expression morphed into a frown.

Knowing she had clearly figured it out, I roughly gestured in the direction of where Rudd and Autumn were situated, then turned back around and headed over to where Autumn was slouched. She was trembling pitifully, and as I approached, she didn't seem to notice me, closing her eyes for several seconds.

Her blue eyes finally snapped open once I got close to the plush leather chair she was collapsed in. They focused on me warily, but I could see the haziness and exhaustion there.

"Hey," I said calmly, trying not to sound like I was trying to coddle or pity her, "you guys okay over here? Where's Blight?" She clearly needed help, but I knew this was probably already hard enough without threatening her pride.

"He…" Autumn started, voice barely a whisper. "H-he said…"

To my surprise, Rudd actually spoke up. Clearly my approach had woken him up. "Said he was gonna get an Avox to bring her water or somethin'. Then he was gonna find someone to take a look at 'er upstairs." His dark eyes focused on Autumn as he spoke, the words almost mumbled.

"How long ago?"

"I dunno. Few minutes. We were supposed to meet 'em upstairs once she felt good enough to walk. Or get Johanna."

Rudd had been half asleep, so who knew how long it actually had been since Blight had left. Rudd clearly hadn't seen fit to grab Johanna because he hadn't been paying attention, but I hadn't been talking with Ben, Johanna, and the others that long, really.

"Can you walk?" a new voice cut in, and I turned to see Ben. Of course he'd come over with me. That sense of chivalry he had probably made him feel obligated to check on Autumn with me. "Johanna wants to head upstairs, and maybe Blight's already there." He must've heard the tail end of the conversation.

Autumn took a deep, rattling breath. Her face was so pallid she looked like a corpse. Even the makeup and Parade costume couldn't conceal how lifeless she looked right now. She shrugged, a tiny, dainty movement. With the way her legs were trembling, I didn't think there was any way she could move. But I saw the embarrassment, clear as day on her face, and I wanted to try to at least avoid making her feel worse. I highly doubt she'd wanted one of us trying to carry her to the elevator. She at least wanted to maintain some semblance of pride.

"Let's just wait until more of the crowd is gone. I don't want to be stuck on an elevator with anyone annoying," I chimed in.

I saw relief, clear as day on Autumn's face, and knew I'd done the right thing. Ben glanced at me appraisingly, but didn't say anything.

"Think I can sit in this damn costume without flashing the lobby?" I asked him, trying to distract from Autumn's condition, while also trying to monitor her out of the corner of my eye. If she got any worse we might just have to carry her.

"Doubtful. But I promise I won't look while you try," he shot back with a grin, and I was grateful he was trying to help me keep the mood light.

That's more than the boy from 4 could promise, I thought, my irritation resurging.

To my great displeasure, I was not, in fact, able to sit. The bottom piece of my costume bent and strained as soon as I tried to, poking into the back of my rear end a bit uncomfortably. I was worried about something breaking, so with some resentment I stayed on my feet. It would have felt so good just to sit down. I tried to make small talk to distract myself from the dull ache in my feet, and the weakness in my limbs that was trying to pull me down.

Ben and I chatted for maybe a minute or two, bantering back and forth about mindless things to try to hopefully distract Autumn until she felt better, before an annoyed Johanna made her way over.

"Come on, we need to get upstairs so the lot of you can shower before the Parade recap and the Arena announcements start," she said, dark eyes flashing with irritation that abated somewhat when she looked at Autumn again, up close.

She was not, however, as tactful as I was about addressing the girl.

"Can you stand? We really need to go. We'll carry you upstairs if we have to."

Autumn swallowed nervously. An Avox had brought over some water shortly after I tried to sit down, and she had managed a shaky sip or two, though it seemed like she barely had the strength to hold the small cup. It had trembled in her tiny hand, threatening to spill over the sides. She had set it down on a nearby table almost immediately. I wasn't sure how she would be able to stand and walk.

I wondered if she regularly took medicine or anything back home that could help her here. Then again, I doubted anything in 7 could compare to Capitol medicine. Hopefully whoever Blight had sent up to the District 7 apartment would help.

Autumn took a deep breath, nodding (unconvincingly) and putting bony white hands on the arms of the chair. I took a few steps in her direction, to try to help her somehow, but Ben (of course) was already there.

At first, he just gently grabbed her elbow and tried to pull her up, but midway through he must've realized how little strength Autumn had because he got ahold of her other elbow, hoisting her to her feet, trying to steady her.

Autumn's face seemed to pale even more, and I saw some sweat forming on her brow. Her legs trembled for one second, then two, before her knees buckled. Ben quickly wrapped an arm around her back to support her full weight as she essentially collapsed against him. Awkwardly holding her up as she blinked in embarrassment and horror, he glanced at Johanna helplessly.

"Looks like you'll have to carry her," she said coolly, gesturing at the area with the two elevators, but even I saw the furrow of her brow that indicated she may have been slightly worried.

I felt awful, I really did. I couldn't imagine already feeling so sick and exhausted (well, I could imagine some of the 'feeling exhausted' bit) and then being helpless to the point of being publicly humiliated. I glanced around, fortunately noting that the lobby was mostly empty by now.

Pretty far across the way, not too far from the doors, stood Finnick, Caspian, and—to my great displeasure—Cato and one of the more famous District 2 Victors, Enobaria. Apparently, Finnick and Caspian were making nice with everyone tonight.

Actually, that worked out well. Maybe Caspian would latch onto the clearly stronger ally and never talk to us again. Even though Johanna had clearly wanted him and Ben to meet.

There was another group from District 5 lurking about, and another group from 10 heading towards the elevator area, but that was about it.

Ben had muttered an apology, staring down at Autumn, before reaching his free hand under her knees and pulling her into his arms, his other arm still wrapped underneath her upper back. She looked like a child as he held her. Her head had lolled backwards and her eyes were fluttering open and shut sporadically. I almost thought that was better-if she were out of it or passed out fully, she wouldn't feel as embarrassed. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and even under the makeup her skin looked paper-thin.

Johanna's mouth had flattened itself into a line as she glanced around the lobby, clearly seeing if anyone had noticed. A couple from District 5 were glancing over, but they had the courtesy to not outright stare.

"Let's go."

Rudd forced himself slowly to his feet with a grunt as Johanna spoke, and then we began to make our way over to the elevators a good distance away, walking at a decently brisk pace. None of us spoke, though I cast occasional glances at Autumn. It seemed like she had fully passed out now…or maybe she was pretending, just to avoid the mortification. I couldn't blame her. She was so pale and still she barely looked alive, though, which was unsettling.

Right as we arrived, the group from 10 had all shoved their way into the elevator on the right—all four tributes, an older woman that must've been a mentor, an escort, and a few people that must have been prep team members or, more likely, stylists. I hadn't the faintest idea where our stylists and prep teams had gone. Did they stay on the District 7 floor with us? I assume the stylists would, at least, though it would be pretty crowded if the prep team members did too.

Judging by the large, lit-up number above the elevator on the left, it was on floor 8, so Ben and Autumn would have to take this one or maybe wait a couple of minutes for the other to return. There was a small space in the right elevator though, and Johanna strode forward to block the door from shutting. The District 10 mentor glanced over, saw Ben carrying a fainted Autumn, and clearly realized what was going on, her face forming a look of surprise. She quickly pressed a button to force the doors back open, right as Johanna said,

"Make room! Coming through! Does it look like I'm joking?" she barked, and then gestured at Ben to step in with Autumn.

He did, and then the elevator was full, some of the stylists squeezing into the corners as if they were avoiding Autumn like the plague. I hesitated, waiting to follow, but not wanting to make everyone even more uncomfortable since it was already quite crowded in there.

"We'll catch the next one," Johanna said, waving them off. There were a few awkward seconds of me and Johanna staring at the people inside the elevator, Ben adjusting Autumn slightly in his arms and the others (namely the stylists) eyeing them nervously, before the elevator doors started to slide shut.

Ben's eyes met mine, discomfort extremely evident on his face, and I tried to toss him what I hoped was a look of reassurance before the elevator took off.

It was just me, Johanna, and Rudd, then.

I shifted from foot to foot once more, the exhaustion once again washing over me. I just wanted to lie down and sleep for a year. Maybe two. Glancing at the left elevator, I saw it was still on floor 8. I frowned; was it broken?

I started slightly at the sound of voices approaching just a few seconds later. I turned, stomach sinking with dread.

Of course. Just my luck. I just had to make that comment about "not wanting to share an elevator with anyone annoying" earlier. Approaching us to wait for the elevator were Finnick, Caspian, Cato, and Enobaria, the horrifying woman that I knew from television and past game highlights that the Capitol had shown sporadically over the years.

Tall and lithe, she walked like a graceful predator, and her appearance matched what I knew her lethality to be. She had long dark hair tumbling down her shoulders, and dark eyes that seemed to be constantly flickering around as if searching for the next threat—or target. But the part about Enobaria that stood out the most were her teeth; or, more accurately, fangs. During her Hunger Games (which I thankfully didn't remember because I'd been very young at the time) she had gained notoriety by ripping out another tribute's throat with her teeth. Afterwards, she'd had them filed into sharp points and inlaid with gold. She looked like a savage animal, wild and intimidating.

I truly could not think of people I'd rather share an elevator with less than Caspian, Cato, and Enobaria. At least Tatiana wasn't here. Maybe Enobaria had sent her off ahead to cool down. Or maybe she'd murdered that Capitol woman and had subsequently been arrested.

A girl could dream

I had learned my lesson from earlier, though. I didn't want another death glare from Cato; I wasn't sure I could handle it. I already felt like I was one more unfortunate occurrence away from another breakdown, and I had promised myself the night before that I wasn't going to do that again. So, I resolutely refused to look at the monstrous boy as the groups from 2 and 4 approached.

The scowl was back on my mentor's face as she took in Cato and Enobaria.

"Johanna," the District 2 mentor greeted her. I could practically hear Enobaria resisting the urge to bare her teeth. I glanced between the two of them cautiously, then settled my gaze on Johanna.

"Enobaria," Johanna said, eyes narrowing with clear dislike. I guess she wasn't intimidated, as a fellow Victor.

Then again, I remembered, Johanna had been quite savage and ruthless in her own Games. Maybe I'd do well to remember that before needling her with my frustrated jibes.

"It's always good to see you in your element," Johanna continued. Enobaria didn't seem to mind the veiled insult.

"Isn't it?" Enobaria shot back, the sneer evident in her voice. I then felt, more than saw, her gaze shift to me. "Well, well," she said. I forced my eyes to meet hers, then, as much as I didn't want to. I still wasn't going to look at Cato, but I didn't want to come across as a total coward. Enobaria's dark eyes were glittering with amusement as she appraised me. "You have an interesting bunch this year," was all she said. Her eyes briefly then shifted to Rudd before returning to Johanna. I knew it wasn't a compliment. "I suppose the other boy from 7 isn't half bad, for your district. Maybe he'll survive the bloodbath."

Enobaria was clearly trying to get a rise out of Johanna. The two tributes from our district had died in the bloodbath last year. Enobaria had immediately discounted the rest of us, but that wasn't surprising. Her standards were probably quite high, especially with the brute of a tribute she was mentoring.

"I must have missed the part where someone asked you for your opinion," Johanna asked coolly. I felt a newfound rush of respect for her and her absolute lack of fear, though I was nervous she'd only escalate the situation.

Enobaria chuckled deep in her throat, sounding like a growl. Before she could respond, however, Finnick cut in, effortless charm in his tone. "Ladies, please. As much as I absolutely love your banter, surely we can postpone this conversation for later? And talk about something else besides likelihood of bloodbath survival? Enobaria, your teeth are looking especially sharp this year."

I was grateful for his intervention. Who knew how much collateral damage would be caused if the argument got heated?

Caspian apparently decided this was the perfect moment to try to get under my skin again. He had sidled up closer to me as Finnick started talking, and I tried not to shy away with open disgust. "Hello again, tree-girl," he said under his breath as Finnick was still addressing Enobaria, the smirk back on his face. "Did your other district mate abandon you? Pity."

I scowled at him, unable to help myself. "Tree girl? Really?" I asked incredulously. "That's the best you could do?"

He shrugged. "I liked the nickname your mentor gave you, too. What was it…Twiglet?"

"How about you just don't call me any nickname at all?" I responded, hating the smirk, and hating how he was capitalizing on my exhaustion to needle me. I also didn't like how close he was standing, especially with the profound lack of clothing minus the strategically knotted netting around his groin.

"How else would I address a friend?" Caspian shot back with mock affront.

"Here's an idea. We just don't talk at all."

I dimly registered that Finnick was still chatting with Johanna and Enobaria, but I could've sworn Cato, a few feet away from his mentor, was more focused on me and Caspian. I could almost sense those icy eyes honed in on us. Rudd was still positioned nearby, but as usual he didn't seem to be paying attention to much of anything. He certainly wasn't going to get me out of this conversation. I wanted to stomp one of my aching feet with frustration, but I just gritted my teeth and glanced at the elevators. The left one was still stuck on 8. The right one was on 11 now, and I found myself annoyed. If it weren't 7 floors up, I would've looked for some stairs.

"That doesn't sound very entertaining." Caspian responded after a quiet moment of observing me. I had no doubt he was aware of my discomfort and enjoying it.

"I don't care about entertaining you."

"You already have."

I glanced at him in frustration. "What do you even want, 4?" I asked with some exasperation. Other than to annoy me, I mentally added. Hell, that was probably the entirety of it. I was the easiest target to bother right now.

His eyes narrowed, then, the smirk fading just a bit. "You know, I'd think you'd be more pleasant to someone who could be a potential ally."

My eyebrows rose. "You're a Career," I stated.

"Excellent grasp of the obvious."

I scowled at the sarcasm, irritation increasing, not really appreciating the taste of my own medicine. "I'd rather not ally with someone who will probably just slit my throat in my sleep."

Caspian scoffed then. "So, if you're immediately rejecting the possibility of allying with someone stronger than you, what's your plan? Climb a tree and hide? That looks like your style." His tone was incredibly condescending as he pointedly looked my outfit up and down again.

I shrugged, trying to force my annoyance down. I would hopefully be away from him and his mockery soon. My eyes flicked up to the elevators again, and I noted with some relief that the right one (the left was still stuck on 8) seemed to finally be coming down to get us.

"What's wrong with that?" I shot back. To be honest, he wasn't too far off.

There was a scoff, then, but it didn't come from Caspian. It came from Cato. I fought the urge off—barely—to look over at him to see his expression, but I was sure it was as condescending as Caspian's. He didn't say anything else, though. I dimly realized I had subconsciously stiffened at the confirmation that he was eavesdropping.

I wondered what he thought about Caspian's offer—however insincere it probably was—to potentially ally with me. It probably disgusted him, but I obviously wasn't going to ask.

But Caspian, of course, couldn't let anything go that would possibly annoy me. "Not a big fan of that strategy, 2?" He asked in a drawl, ignoring me as I glared at him again. His eyes were focused on Cato.

"Hiding in the arena is useless, and cowardly," Cato responded. I realized it was the first time I'd heard him speak, other than announcing his name and age at the Reaping. His voice was deep, cold, and ringing with scorn. Exactly what I'd expect.

The right elevator had stopped again. I inwardly prayed for it to hurry; my discomfort had increased tenfold.

"I don't know," Caspian responded lightly, clearly trying to bait a discussion. "The Girl on Fire did pretty well climbing trees last year and staying out of the way."

"She knew how to use a bow. And the group chasing her was completely incompetent," was the cool reply. I was surprised how dismissive Cato was of the Careers from last year, including those from his own district; but I supposed the Girl on Fire had made a fool out of them with the whole tracker jacker incident.

I didn't miss the implication, though: that Cato assumed I didn't know how to use any sort of weapon. I felt another wave of annoyance, my pride not liking the insinuation. I stayed silent.

I realized that the three mentors were now watching the conversation unfold between their tributes. I crossed my arms and stared up at the elevator, trying to still avoid eye contact. I could feel the grasping hands of exhaustion and fatigue pulling at me, wanting me to drag me under, and both Caspian and Cato's comments needling me didn't help.

"Mmm, true, but I bet tree-girl here could have some tricks up her sleeve too," Caspian said. My eyes returned to his as I bit down angry words. His amber eyes danced with amusement; he knew how uncomfortable this topic was for me, and I was sure he'd observed my absolute refusal to speak or make eye contact with Cato and (correctly) guessed I was terrified of him.

"Unlikely. Look at her," Cato responded coldly, dismissively.

I didn't think it was possible for him to sound more dismissive of someone else. The sheer arrogance of just immediately disregarding someone because of their size and district…it incensed me. I hated how they were talking about me as if I weren't right there. I hated that Caspian knew it was annoying me, so he kept the conversation flowing. Heat surging through me, my eyes shifted to meet Cato's despite my reservations.

His eyes matched his tone: icy, derisive, condescending. My heartbeat sped up, sensing danger, just like the first time we made eye contact. I felt a chill run down my spine and tried not to let my reaction to him show. Tried not to think about the sheer size of him and how quickly he could kill me. Tried not to let my whirling, frustrated emotions boil over into a heated response. While snapping at Caspian was already probably not my smartest move, Cato was an entirely different level of intimidating, and he had already looked at me in a way that made it obvious he was picturing ending my life.

Caspian leaned in close to my ear. I stiffened even further, wanting to shove him away from me as hard as possible, but knowing I couldn't do that. My eyes flicked back to the elevator that was finally approaching the ground floor as I mentally begged for it to get here.

"I'm willing to teach you a few things besides climbing and running away," Caspian said in a smooth, sly tone, making no attempt to whisper. I felt his breath against my skin and resisted the urge to shudder in disgust.

Cato's eyes narrowed. He clearly didn't like a member of his "Career pack" offering to help someone from a "weak" district. He needn't bother getting upset. I knew Caspian was getting under my skin and had no intention to help.

"I'll stick with the trees, thanks," I bit back coldly. I knew Johanna was not going to appreciate that response (I refused to look over but I was sure she was glaring), but at this point I didn't care. I was too worn out and annoyed to think about it right now. Honestly, I felt like I should get some sort of medal for holding my temper in check this long, after the day I'd had.

"That won't save you," Cato said then. Those cold eyes were still on me. He spoke about my (implied) death with so much certainty. His disgust was still evident. I wondered if Caspian noticed how much the horrible boy despised me; again, I couldn't help but also wonder why it seemed personal, especially after the way Cato had glared at me earlier. I felt sick. I forced myself to turn away fully, positive that my frustration was now visible on my face. I hated the fact that these two thought they could just say whatever they wanted; that they thought they could walk all over me, and I was letting them because of my fear of Cato.

The quiet ding let us know that—finally—the elevator had arrived, hopefully ending this conversation for good. A couple of brightly dressed people from another district's prep team were on it, chattering and gossiping, but their eyes widened and they quickly scurried off and out of the way as they noticed our group.

I quickly made my way towards the elevator a few feet away. I was sure my anger was evident in my stiff movements and posture, though.

Caspian (of course) stood immediately next to me in the elevator, while the others filed in. I pushed myself as much as I could against the left wall, the urge to shove him resurging. Cato ended up in the middle of the elevator, far too close to me for me to get a handle on myself and my now-churning stomach.

It was tense. As they entered the elevator, I heard Finnick make a soft comment to Johanna about the upcoming Capitol program tonight, but I barely registered his words. My body was taut with the automatic fight-or-flight response, frustration coiled within me.

The grim thought occurred to me that if I were this close to either of these boys in just over a week, I could be dead very quickly.

As the elevator doors started to close, Caspian spoke again.

"Gonna chase her up a tree like the boy from 2 last year?" he asked. His voice was innocent, far too innocent. I wondered then how sane he could be, deliberately trying to annoy Cato. Poking at me was one thing, but Cato was dangerous. Last year, the boy from 2 had tried to chase the Girl on Fire up a tree. He had made it surprisingly far given his build, before crashing to the ground, furious and humiliated. I was sure Cato remembered the incident. I didn't appreciate Caspian pushing the subject, especially knowing he was doing it just because of the impact it had on me.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard and angrily, feeling words bubble up in my throat. Words I barely kept back.

Cato scoffed. "Won't be necessary." His eyes found mine, yet again, the familiar cold fear washing over me.

The elevator smoothly took off and began to ascend, but I kept my eyes fixed on Cato this time. My pride and anger were rearing their ugly heads, starting to momentarily outweigh my fear.

"And why is that?" Caspian asked almost lazily. Once again, I despised the way they were talking about me as if I weren't there. I grit my teeth.

"Either she'll die in the bloodbath, or something else will get to her before I can."

I couldn't help it, then. The words I'd bitten back emerged almost against my will as my pride had been struck at yet again, and an angry glare formed on my face as I stared at Cato, feeling genuine hatred unfurl within me. I was sick of them talking about me like this, of them writing me off just because of where I was from.

"Your assumptions and your arrogance just prove that you haven't learned from the mistakes your District made in the last Games," I snapped furiously, unable to keep the words back longer, no matter who I was talking to.

Cato's eyes flashed with something almost like surprise before they narrowed, glittering with menace, and his jaw clenched. The tension could be cut with a knife as the elevator stopped on the second floor, and I was thankful the ride to Cato's floor had been so short. He didn't respond, but the look he was giving me made my heartrate stutter, and I felt the terror rise and threaten to choke me from within. His body language had tensed to the point that I knew everyone in the elevator noticed; we were all waiting for him to snap.

I could sense Johanna's anger from here; I knew she'd probably bite my head off for saying something that could piss Cato off. Finnick had made a quiet sound under his breath after I spoke, and Enobaria was staring at me with a raised eyebrow, though the curl of her mouth was almost menacing. Cato was still glaring at me as the doors to the elevator slid open, hatred etched in every aspect of his expression, and I felt like a rabbit ensnared in a trap. I knew that right now, he was again thinking of various ways to kill me. Probably painfully.

Why had I said that?

It felt like lead had settled in my stomach.

Enobaria, tossing Cato a look, quickly disembarked without another word. Cato—with great effort, it seemed—wrenched his gaze away from me and went to follow her.

Just as he left the elevator, though, he turned back around in the doorway, throwing an arm out to the side, preventing the doors from closing. Those cold eyes bore into me again, and I felt exposed, as if Cato could read every single thing I was thinking and feeling. As if he could see into my soul and was about to reveal all of my fears and doubts and insecurities.

"Those mistakes won't be repeated. You won't survive—I'll personally make sure of that." Despite the anger I was sure he was feeling, Cato's voice was clipped, emotionless, and unwavering. Sincere. As if he were just stating a fact, or making a neutral observation, not promising to kill me in a few days. He meant every word.

Then Cato was gone, his threatening words hanging in the air, the elevator doors sliding shut behind him.

...

A/N: Well, her first interactions with our favorite Career...unsurprisingly tense! THIS IS A VERY LONG CHAPTER…I just kept going.

Thank you for the additional follow! And thank you Joleke2 for the review, I couldn't respond since you're a guest, but I appreciate it!

And Caspian is perhaps a bit more manipulative and intelligent than you'd think, underneath that arrogance. I both love and hate writing him.

A couple of things: if you've read Catching Fire recently, you may have noticed a couple of the Parade costumes that I described bore similarities to what some of the districts wore in the book (mainly some of the costumes in 3, 4, and 10). This is an AU of the 3rd Quarter Quell, but to me it makes sense that there would still be some of the same stylists around, and some of the districts would end up in the same costumes they wore in the book, despite my changes to the story, so I wanted to pay homage to that. Full credit to Suzanne Collins for those!

One more thing to note: in the book, it's implied that calling Districts 1, 2, and 4 Careers is a District 12 only thing, but it isn't stated whether they call themselves something different, or what other outer districts call them. For the sake of simplicity and this story, that's the general name and term for volunteers from those districts used by both the outer districts and the Careers themselves (i.e. they'd call their own alliance the Career Alliance). It just made everything easier and avoided me having to make up a new term for them. Seems that most HG fanfictions do pretty much the same thing.