~Chapter Fourteen: Apprehension~

"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes." ―L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

…

Breakfast occurred at a ridiculously early hour the next morning. Soon after I sat down, still half-asleep, it became immediately apparent that the air was thick with dread. Tomorrow, everything would be different. Tomorrow, we'd be getting shipped off into the Arena. The thought completely drained me of all appetite, and the food became practically tasteless, but I forced myself to eat anyway. This was one of the last hearty meals I'd be getting for a while. Maybe ever.

I was also still hung up on the thought that my success in the Arena was even more directly tied to Cato's now. Another awful thought had occurred to me, as well – it was the same for Caspian and Ben. If Caspian died, Ben would be penalized for it.

So, in some sick twist of fate, I actually had to hope Caspian survived for a while. So that Ben didn't suffer for it. I couldn't believe I'd gotten to this point. I didn't want to kill Caspian—I didn't want to kill anyone—but it would have been easier to just hope one of the Careers took care of him. Now I couldn't even hope for that.

I angrily forced the morbid thoughts away, but with less conversation at the breakfast table than normal (even Minodora seemed rather withdrawn), there wasn't much else to focus on.

I was actually grateful when my prep team and Orea arrived, whisking me away to get me ready for the Sponsors luncheon; at least their chatter and idle gossip was something to listen to besides my own depressing downward spiral of thoughts.

I examined myself in the mirror when my team was finished beautifying me. To my great satisfaction, I was wearing a short dress today. Apparently, the Sponsor luncheon was ever-so-slightly less formal than the evening events. No longer was I constrained by the tight evening gowns falling all the way to the floor. The dress was a lovely mint green, gathered at the waist, and flowy at the bottom, where it ended right at my knees.

I wasn't lucky enough to wear flat shoes with this dress. The heels were a very pale pink, almost a nude color, and a bit clunkier than the previous ones I'd worn, while the bracelets that Orea had adorned me with were silver and the same shade of pale pink. She'd clipped more earrings to my lobes in a similar color scheme. My hair was pulled back, coerced into delicate waves instead of curls this time, and twisted into a complicated but elegant ponytail that cascaded down my back. Althea had done pale pink, glittery eyeshadow today, made my cheeks a bit rosier than normal, and kept my lips neutral. I looked youthful and vibrant.

Something twisted in my gut as I thought about it. Seeing myself like this, young and full of life and color, made it all the more jarring to realize I'd be sent off to the Games tomorrow.

I sighed, trying once again to force the dark train of thought out of my mind. Today was going to be bad enough; the last thing I needed was to dwell on my mortality.

…

The atmosphere in the fancy black Capitol car was uncomfortable, to say the least. Seeing as how the occupants of the vehicle consistent of me, Johanna (Minodora had gone with Ben, shockingly), Cato, Enobaria, and the District 2 escort, the situation was doomed to be awkward.

The escort (what was his name again? Something that started with a V? I'd already forgotten, because I had no desire to be around him) tried to make small talk with Johanna and me at first. Johanna was borderline hostile in response, and my answers were rather lackluster and uninterested, so he gave up pretty quickly. After that, he focused on complimenting Cato or blabbering on about the Capitol. The similarity to Minodora would have been humorous in any other situation. He didn't seem to notice or care that everyone was ignoring him.

Cato (who had been adorned in an expensive grey suit with a mint tie that matched my dress) seemed to be set on pretending I didn't exist. It was a nice change from the glares and the barrage of demeaning comments. This, I could work with. It was an improvement, as far as I was concerned.

The Sponsor luncheon took place at Snow's mansion; or, more accurately, the beautiful, lush gardens just outside of it. I felt my nervousness return in full force as our car pulled up in front of the spectacle and we were instructed to step out. I mentally steeled myself, trying to assume the persona I'd practiced with Johanna on so many occasions.

As I emerged from the vehicle, though, I didn't have to fake the look of awe on my face. The grounds were immaculate. Every hedge was perfectly trimmed, the grass was green and beautiful. A narrow walkway in front of us led to the massive open area in front of the mansion, which had been turned into an outdoor dance floor. The sunlight beaming down from above us reflected against the additional elaborate light fixtures that had been constructed all around the dance floor, only enhancing the vision of opulence. Behind the dance floor were two sets of stone steps leading up to the mansion itself, and at the top, I could see large crowds clustered around tables teeming with food. Most of the event's guests were gathered on or around the dance floor, though. There were musicians playing some gentle, lilting music again, but this time they were located on a raised dais just to the side of the dance floor.

Excited chatter and tinkling laughter pressed in all around, jolting me back into focus. This place was beautiful, but it was deadly, and dangerous. I needed to focus on the vipers lurking around me, not the splendor of the gardens and the mansion.

There were plenty of cameras clustered at the edge of the gardens, snapping photos or capturing videos of the tributes as we arrived. I knew there'd be even more around the dance floor. Fully aware that some of them were probably fixed on my face, I tried to toss a bright smile and wave in their direction.

Cato and Enobaria had wordlessly started down the walkway that led to the massive open area with the dance floor, and Johanna and I fell into step behind them. Their escort was still chattering away. He had to be nearly as bad as Minodora, I thought. I was probably supposed to walk side-by-side with Cato, judging by how the pair of tributes a short distance ahead of us were conducting themselves, but I was perfectly fine with this arrangement.

You can do this, I thought to myself for probably the umpteenth time, hoping the pep talk would work on this occasion. As we reached the open area of the gardens, though, my stomach sank. It was too soon to be back among all of the painted faces, the longing stares, the ridiculous hairstyles and flamboyant outfits.

And, almost immediately, we were thrown right into it—Johanna said I'd have to suffer through at least an hour of this before I'd have the chance to go grab some food. This time, though, I didn't complain. I knew the stakes were high. Every person here that spoke to us could potentially send us some life-saving medicine, or a weapon, or something else useful in the Games. Unfortunately, I also saw a Gamemaker or two in the crowd, and prayed I wouldn't have to interact with any of them again.

Regardless, I would suck it up, as Johanna said, and be on my best behavior.

Easier said than done.

We had to stand near Cato and Enobaria, since people might be approaching us to Sponsor Cato and me as a pair, and it wasn't pleasant being so close to someone I disliked so much. It was even less pleasant being approached by the gaudy Capitol men and women, who were far too eager to talk to us. It was hard to fight back a grimace during the first few interactions we had with potential Sponsors.

I had to fake a smile, and cheeriness, and pretend that I didn't mind being around Cato. That I was grateful to be paired with him. That I thought he'd make a great partner. The lies tasted bitter on my tongue, and I hated myself for saying them. Cato was tense, but he had an easier time than me, because confidence and viciousness were part of his appeal. He didn't have to be as friendly as me. When the potential Sponsors spoke with him, they would ask him about his score. Or his specialty. Or his strengths. He could regurgitate the same couple of sentences, deliver them with the cold confidence I'd seen on him so often, and pull it off effortlessly.

When they spoke to me, though, it was usually to bring up Cato, and if we were getting along, and if I thought we could work together. Sometimes they'd make a joke about the wine. One even asked about Ben and Caspian. I had to constantly lie, unlike Cato, because of the type of questions I was asked. And it was hard not to resent him for it.

It was even worse when they didn't have boundaries, though I was familiar with that behavior after the gala. A couple of the stares on me felt a little too intense, too uncomfortable. One group stood far too close to Cato, a woman resting her hand on his arm every time she spoke. It was almost identical to the way I'd seen Ben treated on occasion at the gala. Cato handled it equally as well, though. The mask of confidence, of polite neutrality, didn't budge. He didn't move closer to her, but he didn't move away. It was as if he wasn't picking up on her flirting at all, though I knew that couldn't possibly be the case.

Although, as she departed, she seemed a bit disappointed that he hadn't leaned into her advances. These people are all the same, I thought.

After perhaps twenty minutes of this, I received my first request to dance.

The man was probably over fifty, and short, and his hair was a horrid shade of orange. I didn't want to say yes. I briefly imagined myself turning and sprinting away from the dance floor, getting lost out in the gardens.

"I'd love to," I said instead, keeping a polite smile on my face.

It was hard not to shudder with revulsion as he placed one ring-coated hand on my waist, and clasped my other hand in his. In my high heels, he was scarcely taller than me. I tried my best to remember Minodora's lessons as we danced. My movements were stiff, but that was more due to the company. Fortunately, I didn't step on his toes…which was actually surprising because the man stood too close. He smelled of cloying perfume and alcohol. That meant I got a strong whiff of it every time he spoke.

And spoke he did, about every little mundane thing these Capitol people ever asked about. I encouraged him, asking about his work, his fancy suit, the jewelry adorning his fingers. I wanted to just listen to the gentle violin music, which was actually quite pretty, but his grating voice never ceased.

Mercifully, he released me after the song ended, giving me a small bow. I gave him what I hoped was a gracious smile, thanking him for the dance, and returning to Johanna (studiously ignoring Enobaria and Cato).

As I stood next to my mentor, suddenly feeling the urge to shower as I waited for the next group to approach, she leaned in close to my ear. "Not terrible, Twigs," she muttered quietly.

From her, that was basically a resounding compliment.

Unfortunately, that was nowhere close to the last time I was forced to dance.

There was a pattern: speak to a group of potential Sponsors, be approached by someone wanting to dance, stifle my disgust for a few minutes, return to Johanna, then repeat.

After the orange-haired man, I danced with a stout, tanned man with a shaved head and an exorbitant red outfit. I wasn't able to get a word in edgewise (not that I minded, really).

After him was a woman almost completely covered in all manner of tattoos, with shockingly pink eyes and hair. Every time I glanced at her, I noticed something new. It was difficult not to stare.

Then it was a rail-thin man with beady eyes and features that looked like they'd gone through several rounds of surgeries to ensure he looked permanently young. He was quieter than the others, but I disliked the intensity of his stare.

The following man was plump, almost bursting through the confines of the shiny fabric he wore. He was all-too-happy to act like my Capitol tour guide, telling me about all the amazing places I'd have to visit if I survived the Games. It was a jarring conversation, especially since he had to be aware of what the odds were for a specific tribute. I couldn't decide if he was ignorant, or truly that cold.

A couple of times, I returned to Cato and Enobaria after a dance to find Johanna absent. She was checking on Ben intermittently, since we were both her tributes to mentor. Minodora was mostly chaperoning Ben this afternoon, but Johanna wouldn't neglect him entirely.

It was miserable standing alone with the pair from 2 and the overly friendly Sponsors, though, and on those occasions I almost didn't mind having to go back out to the dance floor.

Not that either option was particularly appealing.

I felt marginally better when I noticed that plenty of the other tributes forced to dance with Sponsors didn't look any more comfortable than I was. Ben and I made eye contact once, and he gave me a wry smile, though I could see the distaste for his partner in his eyes. I even saw Cato himself out on the dance floor a couple of times, the Capitol women seeming far too excited for the opportunity to dance with him. I'd hoped he would be awkward or embarrass himself on the dance floor, but no such luck. His confidence didn't seem to waver. I resolutely kept my eyes fixed away after the realization, not wanting to lose my nerve.

The one small mercy was that seemingly, we weren't necessarily expected to dance with our partners. I did see Lambent twirling Azure from 4 around the dance floor once—I was sure their mentors wanted to show off how good they looked together more than anything—but for the most part, it seemed like tributes only danced with the Capitol guests.

I was infinitely thankful. The thought of dancing with Cato was equal parts hilarious and abhorrent.

I received a small respite after the plump man that hadn't shut up about the Capitol sightseeing, as Johanna was waiting for me again. She told me we were halfway through the luncheon, and she would escort me to the food tables if I was "finished faffing about the dance floor."

As if I want to be out there, I thought bitterly.

We were momentarily separated from Cato and Enobaria—the brutish boy wasn't with his mentor, perhaps out on the dance floor—as we approached the steps leading up towards the mansion. At the top, there were tables upon tables spread out, containing every type of delicacy imaginable. Once again, the Capitol had spared no expense.

This was a more casual affair where apparently, we'd grab a plate beforehand, and sample the various foods as we went, piling it on our plate over time. I didn't think it would be possible for me to even get past the first table. There was just too much that I was curious to taste.

I covertly tried to observe the Capitol citizens as they proceeded along the tables, mimicking their actions so I didn't make a fool of myself as I sampled different things and my plate began to pile up with food. I didn't want to waste anything, but some of the dishes were apportioned in such a way that it was impossible to try just a little bit.

As always, though, it was amazing. I tried all manner of soups, cheeses, fruits, breads, vegetables, meats, and assorted side dishes. Even with me trying to pace myself and only try a little bit of everything, I was practically full by the second table.

Naturally, despite the fact that most of the guests in this area were absorbed with trying the various dishes laid out before us, I was stopped on several occasions. These ridiculously-dressed Capitol people were always so eager to get a chance to talk to me.

I spotted Ben again as we reached the third table, at which point I was only nibbling on something here and there—he was being accosted by a woman with glittering jewels in her hair. Minodora was hovering nearby, and I felt a brief moment of pity that he was stuck with her for this event. Johanna clearly couldn't be with both of us at the same time, and she didn't want me anywhere near Caspian, so she'd gone back and forth some but mostly stuck by my side. I'd much rather be around the prickly Victor than the squawking Capitol woman.

Autumn was sticking close with her partner, both of them looking uncomfortable and entirely unenthused to be here. I noticed that poor Rory Hawthorne appeared to be constantly surrounded, as well. The one time we made eye contact, he looked nearly overwhelmed. I couldn't imagine going through all of this at his age. Rudd, as always, looked like he was in his own world, focusing on the food and oblivious to anyone around him.

Other tributes thrived in this environment. Beautiful Lambent had no shortage of admirers, especially with Azure by his side. There was probably a line of Capitol people just waiting their chance to dance with them. Chiffon, too. The District 1 tributes really seemed to have an easy time at these types of social events. Or if they didn't, they were faking it well.

And, of course, Caspian was in his element. We'd made eye contact briefly when I first arrived at the food tables, but I had torn my gaze away. I couldn't bear to watch the way these people simpered over him, the obnoxious smirk constantly on his face. Unfortunately, avoiding him entirely also meant I had to avoid Ben, who was always pretty close by his partner.

After I'd gotten my fill of the sumptuous food (making sure I didn't overstuff myself because the last thing I needed was to be nauseated on the dance floor) Johanna none-too-gently grabbed my elbow, leading me back towards the stairs leading to the dance floor. "One more hour of this," she muttered under her breath, to where only I could hear. "Then we can go."

"At least you don't have to dance with anyone," I retorted, before I could help myself.

She fixated her dark glare on me. "You think that, as a Victor, I've never had to do this shit?"

She had me there, and I stayed quiet. I'd seen enough Victory Tours televised that I knew that wasn't the case.

Johanna released my elbow, curtly instructing me to follow her, as we made our way through the throngs of brightly-adorned Capitol people, stopping at the same place we'd been earlier so that Cato and Enobaria could easily find us again. I knew that it would be improper to spend the event away from my partner, especially since plenty of these people clearly wanted to support us as a pair, but I really wished we didn't have to rejoin them.

Unfortunately, after only a few minutes (spent talking to women clad in obnoxious shades of green and purple), the District 2 pair rejoined us. Cato still refused to look at me or speak to me directly, but Enobaria threw me a sharp-toothed grin.

"Enjoying the festivities?" She asked me, a hint of mockery in her tone.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," I responded, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm, especially since there weren't currently any Sponsors nearby.

The next part of the luncheon proceeded to follow the same pattern as before: talk to a couple of Capitol people, lie through my teeth about being able to work with Cato, fake a smile and politeness, accept an offer to dance with another, tolerate the closeness and uncomfortable conversation that followed for a couple of minutes.

After another half hour or so of this, unfortunately, I saw a familiar face. I had just finished a dance with a woman dripping in so much finery that I was surprised she could walk upright (let alone dance), when a plump, blonde man with calculating blue eyes immediately stepped up to replace her, giving her a polite nod.

Plutarch Heavensbee.

I felt shock ripple through me, and vainly tried to control my reaction.

"May I?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

As if I had a choice.

"Of course," I responded politely, dipping my head graciously. As if I were giving him the utmost respect, even though I hated him.

I thought I had seen him on the dance floor earlier—so I probably wasn't the first tribute he had danced with—but I couldn't help but be startled by the thought that he had deliberately sought me out.

As the next song started up, Plutarch rested one hand just above my hip and clasped my other in his. I vainly tried not to let any revulsion show on my face. I couldn't help but feel like I was being carefully scrutinized. Hell, I could sense the eyes focused on us as we began to dance. I'm sure we made quite the pair. The lion and the lamb.

At least he had the decency not to position himself too closely to me. Plutarch was giving me a hint of personal space, or as much as was socially acceptable when you were dancing with someone.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Miss Ainsley," he said.

"Likewise, Mr. Heavensbee," I responded, in my most polite voice, trying to make eye contact with him or risk appearing rude.

A corner of Plutarch's mouth turned up in a smile. "An almost convincing lie," he responded, voice low over the music.

My stomach clenched, and for a second, I could've sworn my heart stopped. Did he see through me that easily?

Plutarch must have noticed the momentary fear cross my face, despite my attempts to hide it, because he quickly added, "Don't worry; I'm sure you would fool almost anyone else here. I'm something of an expert when it comes to detecting lies."

My brain vainly sought out something to say, anything. This was not how I expected the conversation to go. "I'm sure that's a useful skill to have," I finally said, barely keeping my tone neutral.

Plutarch's eyes were scanning the crowd, no longer focused on me. "Quite. But what I mean to say is, don't feel like you need to lie to me. In fact, I'm quite partial to people who can be honest with me."

What the hell did that mean? Again, I scrambled for a response to this confusing man. "Honesty was always one of my better attributes back in District 7," I said after a few tense seconds. I didn't even bother acting like I still thought it was one of my better attributes. Not here. Especially with how often I was forced to lie, and the fact that he'd already seen right through it.

"Sadly, it's not always as highly valued in the Capitol," Plutarch responded, looking at something over my shoulder. Again, his voice was low, low enough that nobody else could overhear over the music and the teeming crowds of people.

Where is he going with this?

"It is certainly different than back home," I responded, again keeping a neutral tone.

"I'm sure. Was it true what you said during your interview, about your favorite part of the Capitol being cheesecake?"

I was still perplexed. "Yes. My escort even special-ordered some for my birthday." The sentence came out a bit rehearsed, but at least it was honest.

"How considerate of her." Plutarch's eyes were still keenly observing some of the other dance floor inhabitants. "Have the living quarters been adequate? There were quite a few renovations this year."

What was with all this chitchat? "It's more space than I know what to do with. I really enjoy the garden on the roof." Again, an easy and honest response.

Plutarch's eyes snapped back to me, studying my face. I tried my best to hold eye contact, despite my discomfort. "And how have you found all of the events so far? Some of them are new for the Quell."

I opened my mouth to give some sort of standard, generic response that I'd been using all day, then caught myself at the last second. Plutarch had essentially made it clear that I was expected not to tell any lies. I'm quite partial to people who can be honest with me, he'd said.

He was unnerving, and I felt like had some end goal in mind I couldn't even comprehend. Why would I risk crossing him? I had no clue what his intent was here.

"Somewhat overwhelming," was my answer.

Plutarch nodded. "Understandable." He didn't seem put-off by my response at all. A short silence passed between us, and I felt unease stirring in the pit of my stomach that I tried to mask, instead observing the other couples twirling around the dance floor.

Plutarch broke into my thoughts after a moment. "I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted to meet you in person."

Again, I was tempted to give a default response, but thought better of it after Plutarch's words from earlier.

So instead, I said, "I'm guessing it has something to do with my behavior at the gala. I'm sure plenty of people found my etiquette…lacking."

"On the contrary. Quite a few of us were entertained," he responded, mouth curling upwards again.

I felt a sudden rush of bravery, because of how much he seemed to appreciate direct and honest responses. Accompanying it was the urge to at least get a glimpse of what the Gamemakers might have been thinking behind the scenes. "Entertained enough to want a recreation of the behavior in the Arena?" I projected a tone of polite interest, but I was sure my eyes betrayed my curiosity.

Plutarch's calculating eyes glittered, and I got the impression that he had quite enjoyed that response. "Just so. What else could the dear people of the Capitol ask for? They were quite taken with the two of you."

"Perhaps it comes full circle. Two star-crossed lovers last year, and two tributes who hate each other this year." My tone came across a bit dry, despite my best efforts. The thought of Cato always soured me.

Plutarch's smirk widened. It bolstered my confidence even more, assuring me I was taking the right approach. "Perhaps the two of you will surprise us yet. Anything can happen in the Arena, after all."

"I know. That's what worries me," I responded automatically, the honest words escaping me before I could control them.

Plutarch chuckled, though there was little mirth in the sound. "Only a fool would be overconfident. But you do not strike me as a fool."

"I threw wine on probably the most dangerous tribute in the Games, remember?" I responded.

"Of course. And I'm sure for some, it was the source of great scandal. Personally, I'm hoping to see that fighting spirit in the Games."

I didn't want his compliments, and I didn't want to be near him. It was obvious now that Plutarch had observed my rash and heated actions, and determined that it would make me more interesting in the Games, so he was keeping an eye on me.

Great. "You will," I said. There was steel in my voice, and confidence. Because I knew that, at least, that part was true. I'd be fighting my hardest with whatever I had at my disposal.

"Good."

After a few more seconds, the song started to wind down, and I found myself itching to be away from the Head Gamemaker. To be away from this entire event.

Plutarch turned back to me, slowing our movements as the song was ending, but not yet releasing me. My eyes found his again, calculating and undecipherable as ever. "It has been lovely getting to speak with you, Miss Ainsley."

I smiled back at him. Honesty, I remembered. He didn't want me lying. "I'll remember what we've talked about."

Those eyes glittered again, I thought he looked almost approving. "Glad to hear it." We stopped moving entirely, and he released me, as the musicians shifted to an entirely new song. "You said that this has been overwhelming, but I can see you're a quick learner. Navigating the maze of Capitol events, politics, and social etiquette does get easier after a while. Just be patient, and take things one day at a time."

He stepped back, giving me a small bow.

"I will," I responded, dipping my head courteously the way I'd been taught. I wasn't even sure why he was bothering to give me social advice when I was going into the Arena tomorrow. I had a lot bigger things to worry about now. It seemed pointless; yet, from what I'd seen of Plutarch, everything he did had a specific purpose behind it.

But I knew I could think about this entire uncomfortable interaction later, whenever I wasn't in the middle of a Sponsor event, with too many greedy eyes and hands lurking around.

Before someone else could come up and snag me for a dance, I quickly made my way off the floor and over to Johanna.

…

As we finally neared the time where we'd get to depart the Sponsor luncheon, President Snow himself made a brief appearance. Of course, the crowds screeched and hollered with excitement as he appeared on his balcony, staring down at all of us beneath him. Fitting. Minodora had told us this morning that nobody was sure if he'd be here today (despite the fact that it was at his mansion) because he was always 'just so busy with his presidential duties.'

Plotting more and more innocent deaths, I'm sure, I thought mutinously, trying to keep a glare off of my face.

He gave a very short speech, mostly thanking the generous Sponsors for supporting the Games and then commenting on what an honorable and noble thing it was for us tributes to be here. It was difficult not to stare up at the thin, white-haired man in resentment. His smile, his words of warm welcome and praise, never matched the expression in his eyes. I knew it might have been an oversimplification to blame him for everything wrong with the Capitol, but surely, he was the poisonous heart of it all. The Capitol ate up his speech, but I found myself wishing he hadn't shown up at all. The world would be better without him.

Soon after his speech, we were finally allowed to leave. After all, Cato and I still had our interview later tonight.

Once again, the mood in the car was fraught with tension, but I cared even less than I had before. We had been at that event for less than three hours, but I already felt drained from all of my interactions today, the false friendliness and fake smiles. The dancing. The conversation with Plutarch Heavensbee.

I tuned out District 2's escort, who was busy complimenting Cato on how well he'd done today. I didn't feel like I'd done too badly, myself. I'd been convincingly fake. I hadn't humiliated my district, as far as I was aware.

Cato and Enobaria acted like Johanna and I didn't exist during the entire ride back, and Johanna was just sitting and scowling into the distance, but I didn't mind the fact that nobody was bothering me.

I just couldn't get rid of the permanent knot of nerves that had settled in my stomach. They had only been exacerbated by the conversation with Plutarch. The fact that he had sought me out specifically for a chat did not bode well for the Arena. And even being close to him, letting him twirl me about the dance floor as if he wasn't one of the people orchestrating my death, made me feel ill.

For once, I didn't think I'd mind the rigorous bathing and scrubbing my prep team would probably put me through to prepare me for my interview tonight.

…

Althea and Arsenio spent the majority of the afternoon either gossiping (unsurprisingly) or complaining about the lack of time they had to work with me, especially since they had to start the process by bathing me and getting rid of all of the hard work they'd done this morning.

By now, I found that I was almost entirely comfortable around them. I rarely had to speak or make small talk, and could mostly just sit there as they worked their magic. They didn't really expect or require my input. And they seemed to like me well enough, I thought.

So, as Arsenio re-painted my nails, Althea powdered my face, and Lotus worked on styling my hair, I was left to my own thoughts.

Johanna and I had practiced some questions and answers last night, but we didn't have a lot of time to go through them. And we'd had no time today. I felt like I already had somewhat of a hold on the persona I was expected to project by now, but I'd have Cato by my side during this interview. And who knew what kind of wrench that would throw into everything?

At least Caesar always seemed set on trying to make the tributes sound good, and easing the awkwardness. Hopefully he'd help me out if we got into a tight spot.

When Orea arrived with my dress, she eyed me critically, before telling me I'd be wearing a different color tonight: gold. Or, more accurately according to the stylist, "champagne."

Because we'd only found out our partners the day before, Orea had precious little time to make any changes to my outfit that she'd planned beforehand. So, she'd selected a more neutral color in advance that would be easy to coordinate with no matter who my partner was, which would have been even more of a necessity if I'd been paired with a girl.

The champagne-colored gown was probably the flashiest dress thus far, almost something reminiscent of District 1's outfits. The entirety was covered in a layer of shimmery, beaded fabric that glittered and refracted the light every time I moved. The dress was floor-length and clingy, again, with thin straps that sat on my shoulders. The front dipped low in a V; not quite as exposing as the dress from my last interview, but close. The back of the gown mirrored the V-shape, and the air was cool between my shoulder blades where it whispered across my skin. I wore glittery and strappy golden heels (I felt an odd twist of emotion and dread when I realized this might be the last time I ever had to wear them). My accessories added a new twist of color: the golden earrings had tiny, blood-red jewels in them, and while most of the bracelets were gold, others were the same shade of red as the jewels. Suitable.

The effect had been extended over to my makeup, which was especially dramatic tonight. My lashes were longer than I'd ever seen them, the eyeshadow was predominantly gold with just a hint of smokiness to make my eyes look bigger, and my lips were crimson to match the accessories. I looked lovely, the same way I always did after Orea and my prep team had finished working on me. But underneath the layers of makeup, I could see the fear and dread lingering in my own eyes.

I was pleased, at least, that my hair was back in long loose curls that were left completely down. It was similar to the hairstyle I'd worn in the parade, and Lotus had still managed to clip-in some tiny, glittering gold accessories.

For the last time before the Games, I turned and surveyed Orea and my prep team.

This time, I knew my words would carry more weight than every other time I'd said them.

"Thank you all. For everything. You've helped me stand out, and you've made me feel confident. I couldn't have asked for a better team." I made eye contact with each of them as I spoke, hearing the intensity of my own voice, and hoping they understood how much I meant what I was saying. Althea looked like she might cry, and her smile wavered a bit.

My eyes found Orea's last. I struck me that my stylist would be the last person I would see before going into the Arena.

I thought I saw a slight flicker of emotion in her silver eyes before her stoic mask was back in place. My stylist wasn't the friendliest woman, and she seemed averse to displaying emotion outside of irritation or haughtiness, but there were times where that outer shell seemed to give way. If only for a heartbeat.

But when she inclined her head, the complete neutrality of her careful expression had returned. And when she spoke, I was almost convinced that I hadn't noticed anything change in her expression at all. That I'd been imagining it.

"Let's go downstairs before you're late," Orea said coolly, and I was quickly ushered out of the room.

…

My heart began pounding against my ribcage as the elevator reached the ground floor of the Training Center. This was bad enough last time. I couldn't believe I was having to go through the entire interview process again…with Cato.

I'd been alone with my prep team on the elevator, so my eyes instinctively sought out the others from my district as we exited the lobby of the Training Center and made our way towards the makeshift stage again. It would appear I was the last from District 7 to arrive. A lot of the other tributes were already lining up, in the order that the pairs had been announced the day before. There was a helpful Capitol television screen nearby, reminding us exactly what that order was.

Autumn and her partner—the latter already looking pale, presumably sick to her stomach—were walking towards the line, dressed in vibrant colors, their stylists clearly trying to make them look as lively as possible. Rudd and his partner, the man in his 40s from District 3, didn't appear to be making any attempt to talk to each other. Ben and Caspian were already in line as well, and the blonde boy was muttering something under his breath, while Ben frowned in response.

Orea and the others bid me a quick goodbye—with a couple of last-minute instructions—and departed to go join the growing crowd of spectators.

Sighing, I began to walk over towards the line of tributes. I was getting really sick of this damn stage. I had no desire to interact with Caspian, though unfortunately, I had to walk right past them towards my place in line.

Ben's eyes found and fixated on me as I approached them, and his face broke into a smile. I returned his smile, completely ignoring his partner. I had no desire to get into another needless altercation right before this interview.

Caspian had already noticed Ben's expression, though, and then I could sense his amber eyes honed in on me as I neared.

"Gold looks good on you," He drawled.

I turned, my eyes resting on Caspian, against my will. Of course, he had that same arrogant expression on his face.

"Thanks," I responded coolly. I wasn't dealing with him tonight.

Caspian opened his mouth to speak, likely to say something that would get under my skin, but I cut him off.

"I'll see you after the interviews," I said to Ben, talking over whatever Caspian was about to say. I ripped my eyes away from the pair and strode forward.

I felt an odd sense of satisfaction, practically sensing those amber eyes burning into my back. And he was unable to do anything about it. As I took my place in line behind Tatiana and her partner, I tried to focus on that tiny sense of satisfaction instead of my growing nervousness and dread.

Cato didn't arrive until just a minute or two before we were supposed to all go on stage. Perhaps he was trying to minimize his time around me; honestly, not a bad idea.

I glanced at him as he approached, towering over most of the other tributes near him. He was in a black suit now, with a champagne-colored tie that matched my dress, and a scarlet flower pinned to the front of his suit jacket. I also noted a golden ring with an inset ruby on one of his fingers. We may have perfectly coordinated appearances, but under the surface, it was anything but.

He glanced at me coldly as he approached, eyes flicking briefly and emotionlessly over my attire, before he stepped in line behind me. I noticed Cato stood as far away as possible without stepping on District 3's toes. Or maybe it was me that was edging away from him.

It wouldn't take a body language expert to read the tension between us. I turned back to the front, still thinking the stony silence was an improvement over the constant biting insults.

Fortunately, it was soon time for us to walk on stage.

I didn't think it was possible, but as District 1 entered, the spectators seemed even more excited than they had the past couple of nights. Or perhaps I was just more sensitive to it. Cheers rang out from all across the Capitol streets, as the crowd shrieked and applauded wildly. For the third time, I braced myself to go on stage. Immediately upon walking into view, I smiled and waved as I was expected to, the movements becoming more and more familiar each time I was forced on stage.

This time Cato and I were seated on the middle tier of the stage, near the far side. I delicately held my dress up—but not above the ankle, I heard the shrill voice in my head—as I carefully walked towards our seats. Every eye in the Capitol, and in the districts, was once again focused on all of us. My brother's and father's faces flashed across my mind's eye, probably filled with concern because of who my partner was, and I tried to tilt my chin up. To look even more confident than I had last time, despite what I was feeling inside.

I folded my hands in my lap delicately after sinking into my seat. I immediately decided I preferred sitting on the third and highest tier of the stage. Here I felt oddly exposed, thinking of the row of people behind me; people that might be trying to kill me tomorrow.

Caesar received a similarly excited reception when he entered the stage as he had the previous two times. His suit was a deep purple tonight. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him in that color. As per routine, he told a couple of jokes to get the crowd excited, and made sure to mention how exciting it was that he got to talk with the tributes multiple times this year.

Yeah. So exciting, I thought bitterly.

I was all-too-aware of Cato seated to my left. A couple feet away, but too close for comfort. It would take a herculean effort not to fidget the entire time we were up on stage. I didn't like being within striking distance of him.

Chiffon and Bastion were called up first, all smiles and charm. Chiffon was once again sultry, while Bastion was more focused on entertaining the audience with easy jokes and confidence. The spectators ate it up. Again, it occurred to me that Bastion's approach was somewhat unusual and lighthearted for a District 2 tribute. Caesar asked exactly the types of questions I would expect: how they were getting along, how training had gone, what their biggest strength was as a pair, who they thought their biggest competition was.

Lambent and Azure were next. They could really be carried on looks alone, because of how appealing they looked together. But they were also very charming, and (at least outwardly) seemed very comfortable around each other. Caesar was enchanted with them, or at least did a very good job of pretending to be.

So far, the time seemed to pass very quickly. These interviews were four minutes, instead of three, to somewhat account for the fact that two tributes were being questioned without making the program as long as the previous one. I also noticed that Caesar tended to alternate questions so that one tribute wasn't doing all of the talking.

Ruby and Rory were up third; the crowd clearly loved the boy from District 12. I found myself paying closer attention to this interview. I was curious about the dynamic between the pair; a Career tribute and a tribute from an outer district that wasn't trained. Rory seemed a bit nervous, but he was already popular, and his shy charm made him even more so. He was well-spoken for his age, despite his nervousness.

Ruby, to her credit, was very convincing. She came across as happy with her partner. She claimed the training day had gone very well, and that she'd taught Rory a few new things. Then, she absolutely won the crowd over by saying that Rory reminded her of her youngest brother, so she'd do everything she could to protect him.

Genius approach, I thought, legitimately impressed. I was sure Sponsors would be tripping over themselves to support them.

Onyx and Cassia were two of the tributes I was the most nervous about. As expected, during the interview Onyx was unnerving in his own way, and Cassia (as always) was so aloof and unbothered that I wondered if she were a complete sociopath. Sure, anyone who volunteered for these Games had issues, but she legitimately didn't seem to care about a single thing. The crowd loved the mystery of it all, though. As Careers both scoring 9s, they didn't have to be charming or charismatic.

Tatiana and the man from District 9 were comically similar in their interview. Tatiana's answers were vicious and aggressive, and she had no doubt she'd succeed in the Games. But she didn't pretend to compliment her partner or act excited that she even had one in the first place. The crowd probably didn't mind, because part of the girl's draw was her brutal nature. Her partner was also very gruff, almost hostile in some of his responses. Maybe they planned it, but I thought it more likely that their personalities were just similar enough that they unintentionally coordinated.

After the buzzer went off, I felt a new wave of nervousness wash over me. The twist of my insides was becoming familiar by now. Almost instantly, my palms became clammy. I tried to subtly take a deep breath, knowing the cameras were all turning to us now as Caesar called our names. The grin on his face was far too big.

Here we go, I thought, forcing myself to stand up. I pushed the thoughts of how many ways this could go wrong out of my mind. The crowd was roaring excitedly, eagerly anticipating our interview. I hoped the confident and alluring expression on my face was convincing as I made my way towards and then down the steps, still having the same irrational fear of tripping on my gown, even though the heels weren't too difficult to walk in by now. The lights bore down on us, further accentuating the amount of attention honed on Cato and me.

I turned my smile to Caesar once I reached the bottom of the steps, trying to make it as authentic as possible. I heard some whistling from the crowd. They were very eager for the chance to watch potential drama unfold. Cato was walking a couple steps behind me. Even the thought of him there, in a setting where he couldn't attack me, made the skin on the back of my neck prickle in discomfort.

I stretched out a (probably slightly damp) hand, shaking Caesar's as he warmly greeted me, then moved onto Cato.

Trying to maintain a picture-perfect smile for the audience, I slid into the chair nearest Caesar's. Said chair was to my right but slightly forward, turned inwards so that Caesar could address both tributes simultaneously. Cato's chair was situated on my left. It gave the illusion of unity, instead of us being positioned on opposite sides of Caesar. I felt the childish urge to scoot my chair closer to Caesar's, as right now I was only a couple feet from Cato's, but I scarcely resisted. At least we weren't sharing a couch, which would have forced us to be even closer.

Once Cato and Caesar took their seats (I sat up as straight as I could, practically sensing Minodora's judgmental eyes on me), the crowd finally quieted. I knew the onlookers situated in the stands were probably leaning towards the edge of their seats. My stomach was still roiling, and I wanted to fidget in discomfort.

It's only four minutes, I thought. You got through this before, you can do it again.

Caesar was already grinning broadly. As if he'd truly been looking forward to this.

"Welcome back!" He said excitedly, before turning to the audience. "I'm sure we've all just been dying to know how everything is going, am I right?"

The crowd excitedly expressed its agreement with applause and cheers.

After a few seconds they quieted again, and Caesar turned back to us. "So, my first question is for you, Juniper." He leaned forward. "How did you feel, right when you found out you'd be partnered with Cato?"

That's right, he used first names during interviews, to put us at ease. Thankfully, Johanna and I had practiced this one.

"Well, I knew we'd have some issues to work through, at first," I responded. Not a complete lie. There was a small chuckle from the crowd. "But I was excited to have such a strong partner chosen for me."

"What a good way to look at it!" Caesar agreed. He turned slightly towards Cato. "And what about you, Cato? How did you react when your partner was announced?"

He was furious, I thought.

Cato's expression was impressively neutral. "I was surprised, at first. Then I found myself hoping it wasn't a lie when she said she has tricks up her sleeve for the Arena."

So he had been paying attention during my solo interview. Enough to remember a specific answer I'd given. There was another chuckle from the crowd, but I didn't think he was making a joke.

"I think we're all curious to see what Juniper can do in the Arena!" Caesar responded, then swiveled to me. "Are you still not going to give us a hint?"

It was a nice callback to my first interview, and I tried to re-create the same secretive smile I had then. "Sorry, Caesar. You'll just have to be patient."

Caesar's expression turned to one of mock sadness, and he faced the crowd again. "Unfortunately, being patient isn't really a strength of mine," he said, some of the crowd voicing agreement.

An idea sprung in my head, a way to hopefully come across charming. "Can you try, just this once?" I tried to make my expression teasing. "Please? For me?"

Caesar laughed then, leaning back and placing a hand over his heart. "Well, how can I say no, when you ask so nicely?" He winked out at the crowd, resulting in another round of laughter.

Perfect. Nothing too bad yet.

His attention shifted back over to Cato, then. "So, it's no secret that the two of you got off to a…rocky start." He had a knowing expression on his face now. "Have things improved, now that you've spent some time together?"

I could practically sense the crowd's overeager interest in the answer to this question.

Cato's expression hardened, slightly, but the change was so imperceptible that I doubted the audience would notice.

"Well, she hasn't thrown any more wine on me, if that's what you're getting at."

A laugh from the crowd, louder now, Caesar joining in. Clever, I thought. As much as I couldn't stand Cato, he was doing a pretty good job at deflecting, at avoiding saying what he actually thought.

"Well, I dare say that is an improvement!" Caesar responded, grinning at me. I returned the smile, trying to look sheepish, because that's what the crowd would want. "But could you elaborate further? How did your conference and the final training day go?" He was still focused on Cato. Apparently, we wouldn't be getting off that easily.

Cato shifted slightly in his chair. I resisted the urge to move away from him, still hating how he was only a couple of feet to my left. "We've come to a…mutual understanding of what each of us brings to the Arena." His voice was nearly toneless as he spoke.

Which is nothing, in her case, I could practically hear him mentally adding.

Caesar raised one perfectly-shaped lavender eyebrow. "That's good news then!" I had no doubt he was sensing there was more information to be divulged there. His attention returned to me. "Anything to add?"

I tried to maintain a composed expression. "We are very different people, and we have very different skills." That part was easy. Now, it was time for a bold-faced lie. The words tasted sour as they left my mouth. "But I think that our different capabilities will complement each other well in the Arena. You'll see."

Caesar was nodding. "I'm sure we're all very eager to witness you two working together! Aren't we?"

The crowd cheered in resounding agreement, despite the fact that most of them wouldn't shed a tear when Cato eventually turned on me.

A bright smile on his face, Caesar's focus was back on Cato. "What, do you think, is the biggest advantage of having a partner this year?"

Nothing, I was sure he was thinking. But Cato's face remained impassive as he answered, "It'll be harder to be caught unaware or off guard, if we're both vigilant."

A Career-like answer. I was sure Cato didn't trust me in that regard, either.

Caesar nodded, agreeing, then the attention was back on me again. "And Juniper, what—or who—is the biggest challenge you expect to face, once you two go into the Arena?"

Not strangling him in his sleep. But I shouldn't be thinking those thoughts, even sarcastically, not when the whole point of the Games was to murder other people.

My mind scrambled to come up with something that didn't hint at how much Cato and I loathed each other. I suspected Caesar knew, and was clearly fishing for information.

"Honestly, Caesar, with so many tributes, there's a lot of competition this year. I'm not going to underestimate anyone."

A perfectly boring, and perfectly generic answer.

But Caesar, nodding, wasn't done. "I'm sure you feel quite fortunate that one of the only tributes who scored a 10 is on your side, going into the Arena." It wasn't a question, but I was expected to agree.

"Quite fortunate," I responded, lying through my teeth. Because I knew—and Caesar probably knew, too—that I was anything but fortunate. And Cato was only temporarily on my side.

It was Cato's turn to be interrogated again. Caesar shifted position, leaning in, more than he had previously. I felt a sense of trepidation wash over me; his body language suggested the next question would be difficult.

"We all know the stakes are especially high this year, with the rule announced yesterday. Given your family history in the Games, and the previous interactions between you and Juniper, do you think you'll be able to truly rely on each other in the Arena?"

Wow. What a question. No other tribute pair had been directly asked this, but given our previous animosity, it made sense. Asking about Cato's sister, though…it seemed almost unfair.

Cato's jaw clenched. I knew that his real answer was; the question was whether he could come up with a believable lie.

"I've always believed that the only person you can fully rely on is yourself. But I'll do whatever is necessary to win these Games, even if it means cooperating with someone else." I was once again impressed by how neutral he still sounded.

It didn't fully answer the question, but it was close enough that I thought the audience would be satisfied. It stuck close to Cato's roots as a Career, his confidence in his own abilities, without outright dismissing me.

Caesar nodded sagely. "A wise approach." His eyes flickered over to me. "And Juniper, what would you say in response to that?"

My stomach sank, and I hoped my expression didn't convey that. "I agree with him. Working together is our best chance to get out alive."

A technically accurate answer, that in no way reflected the realities of the relationship between Cato and me.

But then, the merciful buzzer was going off, and to my great relief, our interview was over.

Caesar was grinning and calling our names once again after he stood up, Cato and I mirroring his movements. The audience was clapping and cheering wildly, enthused by our performance. I let the sound wash over me; as jarring as it was, it brought a sense of relief. It was certainly one of their loudest reactions to an interview thus far. They were seemingly convinced that the two of us had set aside our differences, for now.

I smiled at the countless spectators with fake enthusiasm, and I waved, and then I entirely avoided looking at Cato as I turned and began walking back to my seat. The excited applause followed me as I went, and I hoped we'd done enough to get more potential Sponsors intrigued.

I still felt the uncomfortable prickling on the back of my neck, though, as Cato walked behind me. Despite our current situation, he was still a threat.

I knew that, one day, staying as far away from him as possible would be the best way to stay alive.

…

The interviews after ours seemed to race by. I felt like I was going to drown in a mixture of relief that the last public speaking event was over with, and despair because it meant I was that much closer to going into the Arena.

The interviews from the young tributes from 3 were unremarkable—I was pretty sure the Capitol had already written them off—but Basil and the motherly woman from 3 did well. The "we need to get back to our families at home" story drew sympathetic sounds from the spectators.

The older man from 3 and Rudd did not do well. The man from 3 was marginally more talkative, but there was a profound lack of charisma and to me, they just came across as resigned to their fates. I felt a twinge of sadness that I tried to fight off. Rudd may be from my district, but I couldn't worry about him. Not with all of the problems I already had.

The next pairing from District 4 was a significant improvement over Rudd's interview. Marlin, the unenthused Career tribute from 4, had a complimentary skillset to his partner, the massive man from District 10. The two of them together looked intimidating enough that I was sure some of the crowd was betting on them. It was practically a Career pairing, given their scores.

The girl from 4 that had been Reaped was not very memorable, but her partner from 8 helped carry the interview. His solo interview had gone well, too, I remembered. He seemed clever in a subtle way, and sometimes those tributes did very well in the Games. Instinct told me not to write him off.

Ben and Caspian were up next. I (barely) resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the way Caspian beamed out at the crowd, seemingly not the slightest bit bothered by the fact that he'd been paired with Ben. I did not miss the fact that the crowd was exceptionally loud for the two, probably the loudest they had been since Cato and I were interviewed. I definitely heard more than a few whistles emanating from the eager audience.

They got asked mostly the same questions that the Career pairs were asked, despite Ben not being a Career himself, because of their high scores and the obvious strength in their builds.

My attention on them sharpened further, however, late in the interview, when the expression on Caesar's face became too mischievous to ignore. He had just finished questioning Caspian about the strengths he brought to the partnership, and turned to Ben.

"So, Ben, I wanted to refer back to something you said in your solo interview."

Great. He's bringing this up, I thought.

Ben was nodding, looking politely interested, as if he had no idea where the question was going.

Caesar's mischievous grin widened. "You told us—now, correct me if I'm wrong—that you want to protect your fellow District 7 tribute, Juniper, from Caspian here." He indicated Caspian with a polite incline of his head. "You also said that you planned to keep an eye on him in the Arena."

I forced down any outward response, knowing that at least one camera was now depicting my face for the entire Capitol to see.

Ben was doing a good job at hiding any discomfort caused by the questions. "Yes. And it looks like I got my wish." He smiled knowingly at the crowd.

A round of chuckles from the audience, and Caesar joined in. "You certainly did." He leaned towards Ben, and I knew the next question would be harder. "Except now, that means you're on his team, so to speak. You can both win the Games. Given that, is protecting Juniper still a priority? And if so, how will that affect your partnership?"

He was just itching for drama. The Capitol loved this sort of thing, especially after last year, when the drama had reached an all-time high.

I was acutely aware of the scrutiny on me right now. Cato's tension seemed to have increased next to me. Maybe I was imagining it, or maybe he was thinking of how the boys from 4 and 7 could potentially throw a wrench in his plans.

Ben appeared to be contemplating, carefully considering his response. "Juniper is a good friend, and I still want to protect her, yes. But I also think that Caspian and I will work very well together. The two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive."

Caesar nodded. "True." He addressed Caspian next. "And what do you think, of this potential conflict of interest?"

The ever-present smirk was back on Caspian's face. "I don't care what his other priorities are, so long as winning is at the top of the list."

Typical Career answer, but a neutral one, too. I suspected Caspian had no desire to elaborate on the substance of the 'conflict of interest' itself. Especially after Ben had made him out as the bad guy.

"Understandable." Caesar's eyes honed in on Ben again, and a look of sympathy flickered in his expression. "I just think we're all hoping that it doesn't come to a point where you have to choose between them. Are you prepared for that possibility?"

The Capitol would love that happening. How dramatic it would be! Ben sacrificing a fellow District 7 tribute for a shot at victory!

A shadow crossed Ben's face; but only briefly, so briefly I almost missed it. "I'm prepared for anything," he responded. I wasn't sure I'd ever heard so much confidence in his voice before. His determined green gaze was fixated on Caesar.

Caesar looked impressed by his assurance, the crowd sounded impressed, and the buzzer was thankfully going off.

I couldn't help it; my eyes flicked to Ben as he turned around and headed towards his seat. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see in his face, but once again, there was guilt twisting my insides. Even though I hadn't asked him to put himself in such an uncomfortable position.

But his gaze, still resolute and determined, didn't turn towards me as he made his way back up the stairs to his spot next to Caspian. Whatever was going through his head, he clearly didn't want to give me an insight into it.

After Ben and Caspian finished, there was another series of unremarkable interviews. After my solo interview, I'd felt relief because my turn had passed. But now? While I was glad to be done with it, I also felt nauseated. Because every minute that passed was closer to tomorrow arriving.

The dread was sinking into my skin, permeating every fiber of my being. Remaining stoic and calm up here was becoming increasingly difficult, and most of the interviews were not interesting enough to pull at my attention. I was constantly aware of Cato's presence, just on my left, which didn't improve things.

None of the remaining pairs involving District 5 tributes particularly stood out to me. District 6 wasn't an improvement; Poppy from 12 looked scared half to death already, tiny and frail, and her young partner from 6 was little better off. The man that was missing an arm seemed to get along well with his partner, but the only thing I could think of was how awful it must feel to sit there, under Capitol scrutiny, tolerating their falsely sympathetic stares.

Autumn and her partner were almost identical in their apparent fragility. The part of my brain exclusively focused on my survival hated the feelings swirling within me as I watched them. I didn't know Autumn well, but her being here was just wrong (not that any of us should be here, of course). She should be home, with her family, receiving medical care for her illness. Even Caesar seemed to be extra gentle with them. This time, I wasn't sure that his concerned expressions were insincere.

At least the girl from 8 didn't have to rush off stage this time to throw up. Maybe Autumn's presence at her side had actually helped her relax.

As the last several pairs went up for their interviews, faced with questions similar to many of the tributes before them, I found myself expending a lot of energy trying to tear my brain away from thoughts of tomorrow. I clenched my hands in my lap. I could scarcely fight off the urge to tinker with my mother's ring or chew on my fingernails. I knew Minodora would have a heart attack if I did.

What really annoyed me was the fact that Cato didn't seem to be bothered by any of this at all. I couldn't turn and look at him, of course, but I could sense his movements out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't shifting or fidgeting; he looked completely comfortable just sitting up here on stage.

Hell, he was probably looking forward to killing people tomorrow. He'd be downright excited if it weren't for being stuck with me as his partner. Despicable.

After what felt like only a few minutes after Autumn had gone, Harrow from 11 was up, and I remembered he and his partner from 12 were the last to go. I was marginally interested, since I'd been around Harrow long enough to at least know his name. Even that small amount of piqued interest couldn't fully distract me from the growing dread, though. Especially when Harrow was quiet and understated, with his partner coming across as the more interesting of the pair.

Once again, we all stood up after Caesar made his closing remarks, commenting excitedly on how the Arena was starting tomorrow. The crowd shrieked their enthusiasm, making me feel even worse. My smile was brittle as the anthem boomed all around us, the audience's cheers ringing hollow in my ears. I had already accepted what I was facing, just as I had accepted the likelihood of my death, but it was different tonight.

My last night in the Capitol. The realization of just how soon I'd be in the Arena threatened to drag me under, kicking and screaming.

…

I had intended to make my escape from Cato as soon as we were backstage, and to either find Ben or make my way to the elevator alone. I strode ahead of him once we were out of the Capitol's view, glancing around the groups of tributes to see if Ben had managed to escape Caspian. After a moment, I thought I spotted the familiar head of brown hair ahead, and quickly made my way through the double doors and into the lobby of the Training Center.

To my surprise and extreme displeasure, though, Cato's voice carried after me before I could get more than a few strides into the lobby.

"7. Stop."

I petulantly wanted to keep walking. To ignore him entirely. But the non-childish part of me knew that would accomplish absolutely nothing, other than pissing him off. And what was the point of pissing him off the night before the Arena, when my life might depend on cooperating with him?

So, making no effort to hide my heavy sigh, I turned around to face Cato. "What?" My tone wasn't quite hostile, but it sure wasn't friendly.

He was standing several feet away, the cold dislike back on his face. His eyes briefly glanced around at the tributes passing us, some of them tossing us curious looks as they did so. Then Cato jerked his head as he turned and strode away, clearly wanting me to follow him to the side of the lobby, away from any curious eavesdroppers.

I didn't like being beckoned like a dog. But did I really have a choice here? Would it benefit me not to follow him? Feeling resentment burning within me, I followed Cato until we stood a good distance away from the entrance to the Training Center. I felt uncomfortable, with the two of us separating ourselves from everyone else, but then realized that was stupid. We were still in public, and it wasn't like he could hurt me right now.

I didn't think there was much risk of others overhearing, anyway. Most of the other tributes seemed to be in a hurry to reach the elevators. Cato glanced around for a moment, and once he determined that the rest of the tributes were an acceptable distance away, he spoke again.

"The pair from 7 and 4. What's going on with that?" His eyes bored into mine.

I wasn't surprised he was asking about this. Ben and Caspian were two of the stronger tributes, and my name had directly come up. I had assumed Cato was considering how this could affect him, at least during the first Arena.

I debated dancing around the topic, my mind skimming over the possibilities. At first, I couldn't see any disadvantage that would come from telling him exactly what the problem was. But then, I remembered my realization from earlier: that if Caspian died, Ben would suffer for it. As much as I hated Caspian, I didn't want Ben to be penalized while the rule was in place. And I knew Ben probably felt the same about me.

"It's pretty much what Ben said." I responded, after a brief hesitation.

Cato scowled, probably disliking the hesitation. "You're going to have to do better than that."

I sighed. "You saw it in the elevator after the Tribute Parade. The boy from 4," (I decided to de-personalize him in front of Cato, which felt oddly satisfying even though I knew Caspian wasn't even listening), "has spent a lot of time trying to get under my skin. Ben played on that in his interview, to be paired with him."

I didn't think telling Cato that much would hurt Ben in any way. The pairings were decided, and surely Cato would understand why Ben would want to be paired with Caspian.

Cato's eyes narrowed. "Was it strategic because the boy from 4 scored a 10? Or was it actually to try to protect you?"

Why can't he be dumb, I thought morosely. "I think he wanted to be paired with 4 from the beginning. Before he even noticed 4 harassing me."

My Arena partner did not seem convinced. His eyes were fixated on me suspiciously. "Maybe he did. But you two seem close. If it came down to it, what would he do in the Arena if 4 attacked you?"

I fidgeted. Damn him, getting right to the heart of the issue. Once again, I felt myself somewhat hypocritically hating his bluntness.

"I…" I trailed off. "I don't know."

But I had a suspicion that Ben would absolutely refuse to let Caspian kill me, and I was sure my expression betrayed that.

Cato's eyes flashed. "I think you do."

"What does it matter?" I retorted, irritation biting at me.

"And what would you do if I tried to attack 7?" Cato asked, completely ignoring my question.

My stomach sank, and my mouth suddenly felt dry. I hesitated, not wanting to answer. Because the fact was, I did not want Ben to die by the hands of my own Arena partner.

Cato's gaze became steely, his jaw clenched. "That's what I thought," he said, anger prevalent in his voice. "Not that you could stop me."

"You don't know that the situation will even come up," I responded heatedly, feeling defensive. I knew that sentimentality was dangerous in the Arena, but I refused to turn on my fellow District 7 tributes.

"You don't know that it won't."

"I'm not betraying my district," I bit out stubbornly.

"So you'd betray me instead?" His icy gaze sent chills down my spine.

"That's not what I'm saying!"

Cato took a step closer, then another, looking absolutely malevolent. "Listen closely. I will not let your attachment to your little boyfriend get in the way of my chance at victory."

"Just because I care about him doesn't make him my boyfriend," I snapped, the comment incensing me further. "I just have loyalty to people from my district. I thought you'd be able to understand that."

That was the wrong thing to say. Cato's gaze darkened further, making him look lethal. Once again, I was sure he was contemplating my death. He took another step forward, until he towered over me.

I got a sense of déjà vu; him standing right over me, the two of us locked in a stare-down. My instinct was pulling at me to turn away, to run, but I refused. This time I didn't have the liquid courage, but I had the courage of knowing he couldn't kill me. Yet.

"What are you implying?" he asked, voice deadly.

Despite my trepidation, the fear of him that was always present, I still stood my ground. "Would you be able to kill the other tributes from District 2, if it came down to it?" As soon as I asked, I knew it was a stupid question. He was a Career, after all.

"Yes. Only one of us can win, and bring glory to District 2. All of us understand that." There was absolutely no hesitation in his voice. "You clearly don't."

For a moment, words wouldn't come to me. Because that tiny, survivalist part of me knew he was right. Knew that my attachment and hesitation could cause serious issues in the Arena. But I still clung to the possibility that I wouldn't ever be faced with that choice; the choice between my district partner and survival.

My wordless reaction was all Cato needed, though. Something akin to disgust combined with the dislike in his expression. "You're not even denying it. You're pathetic."

"Having feelings, like a normal human being, doesn't make me pathetic," I snapped, feeling the swell of hot anger in my chest.

"I'm sure those feelings will do you a lot of good tomorrow."

"Why are you acting like me caring about Ben—about my district—suddenly means I have no survival instinct?" I retorted. "I still plan on doing everything I can to survive. Even if you disagree with my Arena strategy."

"As if you can call running and hiding from everything an actual strategy." Derision was thick in his tone.

"As if me fighting in the bloodbath would be a better idea," I countered. We were apparently back to this argument.

But Cato scoffed—a cruel sound—then brushed past me. To him, I was clearly a lost cause. He didn't even see the sense in pursuing the topic further. I could see the anger and tension in his form as he departed. After a couple steps, though, he paused, turning to toss his final words over his shoulder,

"Your disgusting sentimentality would get both of us killed. I won't let that happen."

With that, Cato turned and strode away again, without hesitation. He didn't look back, but the ominous words still hung in the air. I didn't think it was possible for me to feel any worse, but after that discussion, I did.

I stood there for a moment after he left, alone, feeling empty and afraid.

…

Breakfast had been tense, but dinner was far, far worse.

I picked at my food; it was a struggle to force anything down. My stomach was roiling with nausea, nerves, and the familiar dread that had been creeping up on me all day. Minodora had been less talkative this morning, but it seemed like she'd picked up on the dark atmosphere at the table, and was now trying to force herself to be as chipper and bright as possible. The grating voice peeled at my thin layer of tolerance I'd been trying to build up.

Luckily, our stylists were here tonight. I could tell they were tense, too, but their additional presence helped keep Minodora entertained, as I aimlessly pushed food around my plate without eating it.

Johanna and Blight had made brief comments on how the four of us had done in our interviews, but there had been no continuing discussion about it. I knew that after the interviews recap, Johanna would have some more words for me. Rudd was as quiet and surly as ever at dinner, and I didn't see Autumn eat more than a bite. I caught Ben's eye more than once, and I could already tell what he was thinking; he wanted to go up to the roof again tonight. Part of me didn't want to, at all. Especially after my conversation with Cato.

Your sentimentality would get both of us killed.

But the rest of me didn't give a damn what Cato said. I wanted to spend potentially my last night alive getting fresh air instead of cooped up in my room.

After dinner, we gathered in the living room for the recap of the interviews. It was a familiar procedure at this point.

I didn't have the wherewithal or energy to pay attention during most of them, though I at least tried to tune in during mine and Cato's. I thought that, under the circumstances, we did a pretty good job. We obviously weren't friends, but we at least masked the true extent of our loathing for each other. We came across as civil, which was impressive, given our mutual hatred. And I came across as genuinely believing we could work together.

All in all, a good showing.

Caspian and Ben likewise performed well. Each of them was charismatic and good-looking enough for the crowd to pretty much eat up anything they said. When asked about his plan to protect me, Ben exuded sincerity and confidence. Caspian seemed like he didn't care even a little about any of Ben's ulterior motives. I doubted that was true—Cato had hated the idea of Ben and I not wanting to fight each other in the Arena, and I was sure Caspian had a similar opinion—but the crowd was convinced by Caspian's unaffected demeanor.

Still, despite the apparent success of my interview, I just couldn't be in good spirits. Not tonight. Not when it could be my last night alive.

Once the recaps were done, the Capitol anthem had ended, and the was program cut off, the tension returned to the room full-force.

This was it. There was nothing else between now and the Arena, really, besides a few last words with our mentors. There were a few seconds of silence, as nobody really knew what to say.

I stared down at my hands, feeling sick. We had been told of the procedure: at dawn, we would meet with our stylists, who would travel with us all the way to the Arena. Or, the first Arena. Apparently Minodora and our mentors would be gone in the morning, though. They'd be heading straight to the Game Headquarters to work on Sponsorships and the like.

This meant that tonight was the last time I'd be able to speak with Johanna beforehand. Before coming here, I hadn't realized that we wouldn't even see our mentor the day of the Games.

As Johanna turned to Ben and me, likely to take us to a separate room for some final words, Minodora interrupted.

"Wait!" She shrieked, standing now, hands fluttering about for a second as if she wasn't sure what to do with herself. "I want to wish everyone well before you go!"

"Make it quick," Johanna snapped, unamused.

Minodora actually looked upset, to my surprise, though I assumed it was mostly because she may never see Ben again. Or maybe she really felt that bad about our chances, because all of us being killed wouldn't reflect well on her. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, before she got the words out. "I just wanted to thank you for being amazing tributes!" Her eyes were darting between the four of us as she spoke. "While some of you could be…difficult…at times," and of course, her gaze fixated on me the second she said that, "I have still enjoyed being your escort!"

She tried to force a smile, as her eyes found Ben again. "I wish you the very best of luck in the Arena! Fight hard, do your very best, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The last bit sounded like a rehearsed speech she probably gave every year, but at least she was trying to be nice. I couldn't expect anything more out of her. Still wearing the forced smile, the escort quickly tottered over to Ben, taking his hand between hers for a moment. "Make us proud!" She said, eyes shining.

Looking a bit taken aback, Ben nodded. In some contexts, the display might have been endearing. But, right now, watching the escort honed in on Ben and clearly placing all of her expectations on him, it was hard not to roll my eyes. He always had been her favorite.

Not that I could blame her.

Then Minodora seemed to remember the three of us also existed, and were also her tributes. She released Ben's hand and turned to the rest of us, maintaining the false sunny smile. "Don't worry, I'll be trying my absolute hardest to get the very best Sponsors for each and every one of you!"

I nodded, unsure what else to do, murmuring a quiet thank you. And then, with another parting goodbye, the escort hurried out of the room. It wasn't that I liked the woman, but it still felt odd once she left, knowing I may never see her again. Just another reminder of what I was about to face.

Our stylists seemed to realize that it was time to take their leave, too, especially since they would see us in the morning. Orea caught my eye and gave me a solemn nod, which I returned. I found myself once again appreciative that my stylist wasn't over-the-top with anything.

After they left the floor, the elevator doors sliding shut behind them, it was just the four of us and the two mentors.

"Come on," Johanna said, jerking her head. Ben and I obediently moved to follow her, as Blight stayed behind with Rudd and Autumn. She took us to the same sitting room where we'd first practiced for the gala and my solo interview. As Ben and I sat, side-by-side on the couch across from our mentor, I realized that day felt like it was ages ago.

She gave us some last-minute advice then: we were to cooperate with our partners, I was not to make Cato lose his temper, we were to separate from them if the rule was changed and we thought we were in danger, and the most important thing was to find a water source early. But we couldn't get complacent there, because the Gamemakers would get "impatient" if we stayed in one place for too long. Her final words of advice were especially morbid.

"Oh, and please don't step off the plate before the gong. I'd rather not see either of you blasted to pieces. Gross, and messy."

But instant, I thought, morbidly. One year there was a girl from District 7 that had dropped a wooden ball—her token—off the plate before the gong sounded, and she had been blown to smithereens. The was an image permanently etched in my brain, and nobody from our district had ever forgotten that death.

Johanna said a few more general words of advice, before dismissing Ben for a few minutes, and I was alone with her.

"I'm assuming you haven't become dumb enough overnight to want to fight in the bloodbath?" She asked sardonically.

"You assume correctly," I responded, but I didn't even have the energy to muster the sarcasm, and my words came out toneless and flat.

"Good. If there's a weapon or supplies very close to you, grab them and run. If you'd have to fight another tribute for it, then just get out of there. Get as far away from the bloodbath as you can, climb a tree if there is one, and wait. Your partner isn't exactly subtle. You should be able to find him again, and he'll probably have supplies."

"What if he's in a Career alliance?" I asked, as this thought had been occurring to me frequently.

"He wouldn't let them kill you, because he'd suffer as a result. But if you truly don't think it would be safe to link up with him, then don't. You practiced survival skills. If you can find food and water and wait it out until some of them die off, maybe you'll have a chance."

"That'll be hard without a weapon or tools," I muttered under my breath.

"I doubt the Capitol wants you to die right off the bat. You're one of their more interesting pairs," Johanna responded, mockery in her voice. "Plus. we'll be doing what we can to help you behind the scenes. Surely at least someone liked you here in the Capitol."

I really hoped they'd be able to send me some wire or something, but it felt dangerous, relying on Sponsors for basic needs. Another wave of nervousness washed over me, and I couldn't even respond to her jibe.

Johanna must have seen the expression on my face and she continued, "My point is, I'd rather you wander around weaponless than fight someone near the bloodbath. At least try not to be brainless and impulsive. For once."

"I know. I'll try."

She nodded, solemnly, then fell into silence. Her dark eyes surveyed me for a long moment. The scrutiny felt intense, and I fidgeted, wondering exactly what Johanna was looking for. She had always found me lacking in a lot of ways, I knew, though Blight had mentioned that she at least recognized my fighting spirit. Maybe she was checking to make sure it was still there.

And it was, I knew. Just buried right now under layers of anxiety and pessimism. But I'd be channeling everything I could in the Arena to try to stay alive. It was only natural to be afraid…I was being sent into a fight to the death.

"June." Johanna said, breaking me out of my reverie. I glanced at her, somewhat in surprise, just because she rarely used my real name at this point.

"This isn't easy. I know that better than anyone. But I know you've got a brain in there somewhere, and I know you want to get home. Trust your instincts. Okay?" Her voice wasn't gentle—I wasn't sure Johanna was even capable of that—but there was no mockery in it, for once. It was steely, and solemn. She wanted me to recognize the importance of these words. It was her equivalent of a pep talk.

And, even if it wasn't cheery, I was appreciative of the effort. It told me that at least some part of Johanna didn't find me wholly insufferable. And over the last week, I knew she had really done everything she could to help me. It hadn't been easy on her, I was sure, especially with my…unique circumstances. I felt gratitude rush over me, temporarily blotting out the lingering despair.

I stared into her eyes, wanting her to know that I was being sincere, too. "I will. Thank you, Johanna. For everything." I didn't say anything more—I didn't think she'd want a gushing display of thanks.

Johanna nodded once in response, gaze becoming indecipherable. She was silent for a few seconds, and I wondered at her line of thinking, before she dismissed me, telling me to send Ben in.

And I left the room, barely resisting the urge to say goodbye at the door. The sentimentality still pulled at me, but I knew Johanna wouldn't want that. She wouldn't want some sort of prolonged farewell.

Still, something clenched in my stomach as I departed. Because I was well aware—both of us were well aware—that it might well be the last time I ever saw her.

…

After Ben spoke with Johanna for a few minutes on his own, we went up to the roof together, for the last time.

Unfortunately, as we opened the door and the wind whistled all around us, I immediately noticed that there were more tributes up here than normal. Clearly, several others had the same idea as us, and wanted some fresh air on what might be their last night alive.

Several Careers—Caspian and Cato among them, to my distaste—had taken up residence in the lounge. I forced myself to skim them quickly, to take stock of who was present, in case they'd be sticking together in the Arena. Cato's district mate Bastion was there, to no surprise. I had always suspected that they were well acquainted prior to Reaping Day. He seemed like the person that Cato spoke with—and tolerated—the most.

Chiffon was there too, which made sense, because Bastion was her partner. Lambent sat on Chiffon's other side. He and Chiffon must have been pretty close, at least judging by how they always seemed to stick together. Lambent's partner from District 4, Azure, was present too, as was Caspian.

I abruptly realized that all of the Careers present were either from the same district, partnered with each other, or partnered with Ben or me. We were the two missing pieces of the puzzle.

I took all of this in quickly, however, and Ben and I made our way to the garden before any of them outwardly noticed us. The last thing either of us wanted right now was to interact with our Arena partners.

We approached the garden silently, each of us lost in thought, and it wasn't until we approached the fountain in the center that I spotted two people sitting on a bench on the far side, mostly obstructed from view until we got close –Rory and his cousin, the Girl on Fire.

They had clearly been in an intense discussion before we approached but had ceased talking upon our arrival. Katniss Everdeen was watching us with alert and suspicious grey eyes, flicking back and forth between Ben and me.

Rory watched me with wide eyes, but didn't seem as outright hostile as his cousin. Awkwardness permeated the air. I could tell she wanted us to turn and leave.

"Sorry for interrupting," Ben broke in, as pleasant as ever. He smiled in Rory's direction.

Rory looked vaguely uncomfortable so I moved to add, "We didn't see you guys here. It's nice, isn't it? We've been coming to the garden as much as possible." I tried to keep my voice lighthearted and pleasant.

Rory nodded in response, then turned to Katniss as if he weren't sure whether he should speak with us or not.

The Girl on Fire's steely eyes narrowed. "Aren't your partners across the roof?" The implication was clear. She might as well have asked, 'why wouldn't you be spending time strategizing with them if you're all in the same place anyway?'

"Yes. Unfortunately," I responded dryly before I could help myself. Ben tossed me an indecipherable look.

"Unfortunately?" She still looked suspicious.

I knew I shouldn't give out strategic information to the mentor from another district. Even if her tribute was Rory, who I didn't plan on fighting in the Arena. On the other hand, I was sure the Girl on Fire was observant enough to be fully aware that my partner and I didn't get along. So, I just shrugged, responding, "I can't speak for Ben here, but I've spent enough time with my partner lately, and I'm not really in the mood to…interact with him."

Ben snorted. "You'll have time for that anyway." He didn't elaborate on how he felt about Caspian, probably having reservations talking about it in front of Katniss and Rory.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't remind me," I responded dryly. I could feel Katniss's gaze burning into the side of my face, scrutinizing me. It was intimidating.

"Avoiding your Arena partner to spend time with your district partner is an interesting strategy, when you can't both win," she said then. Her expression had become unreadable.

She was straightforward, I'd give her that. Well, two could play at that game. "If this is going to my last night alive, I'd rather be around someone that's easy to get along with."

Her expression tensed, almost imperceptibly, but Ben turned to me, grinning. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me, June," he teased. He was clearly trying to lighten the mood, and I appreciated it.

"Don't get used to it," I retorted, a smile pulling at my lips.

"Well, we were just leaving anyway," Katniss said then. Her tone was brusque, but not rude. I got the impression she wanted to speak with Rory out of earshot, but wasn't about to ask us to leave the garden. She turned to her cousin. "Ready?"

Rory nodded solemnly, tossing me another look as they stood up.

I tried to smile reassuringly at him. The Girl on Fire was intimidating, but I at least wanted to say something directly to the small boy before they departed. Sympathy still pulled at me every time I saw his innocent grey eyes and remembered exactly why he was dragged into all of this. "Rory, I was right the other day, during training." He paused, looking at me with confusion (Katniss' gaze had become immediately suspicious again) and I added, "I said they'd choose a strong partner for you, remember?"

Realization crossed the young boy's face, and he tentatively nodded. "You got a strong partner too. Even if…" he trailed off hesitatingly, not wanting to add the part that, according to my own admission, Cato wasn't easy to get along with.

"You're right," I cut in. "Either way, they love you here. Remember that."

Some part of my insides twisted, conflicted at the fact that I was indirectly encouraging an enemy tribute, but I still felt that if someone from 7 didn't win, I wanted it to be Rory Hawthorne.

Rory nodded again, looking entirely unsure how to respond. "Thank you…and thanks for helping me during training, too."

My mind flashed back to the first aid station with the poultices, and I smiled warmly in response. Ben was observing me keenly. The Girl on Fire's piercing gaze was darting from me, to Rory, and back to me again. I could almost sense her wanting to ask me a question—probably to ask why I felt the need to help Rory during training—but she was fighting the urge to interrogate me in front of her young cousin.

"Let's go," she finally said after a short (but tense) silence. Rory nodded, wordless again, and then Katniss was leading him away, tossing one last look over her shoulder at me before they departed. I felt some of my inner tension dissipate. That was one person I definitely didn't want to get into an argument with. Plus, I had a lot of respect for her after everything I'd seen last year. The Girl on Fire had a fearlessness that made me envious; I wished I could channel the same bravery she'd pulled off during her Games.

Once they were gone, Ben and I settled on adjacent benches. I stretched out as much as I could, looking up at the tinkling windchimes hanging overhead.

"Helped him during training, huh? I knew you had a heart of gold, deep down," was his only comment about the situation. I just rolled my eyes again. Inwardly, I was glad he wasn't being accusatory about me helping someone from a different district; but I should have known Ben would understand my empathy in the situation. In fact, I was almost sure he would have done the same. Surely, he also realized exactly why Rory was picked, and how it was unfair that the odds had been against the young boy from the time the Quell was announced.

We were silent for a few minutes, then, but for me it wasn't peaceful. I had too much inner turmoil for that. I continuously felt sick to my stomach, the dread refusing to release me from its clutches. The fresh air and smells of the garden were relaxing in some ways, but in others they just reminded me of things I may never get to experience again.

At that thought, something close to grief threatened to well up within me, and it took everything I had to smother it back down. I'd really tried to get all of that all of the way, but facing down the Games the night beforehand was an entirely new level of stress. It was difficult to handle the whirlwind of negative emotions raging inside me. As always, I wasn't doing very well internalizing things.

I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to at least get something off my chest, to see how Ben was handling things. I just couldn't sit here in silence anymore; couldn't pretend I wasn't struggling.

"Ben, I'm afraid," I said quietly, after the silence had become painful for me. I finally tore my eyes away from the scenery and fixated on him.

He turned and met my gaze, then. Emotion flickered in his expression. "I'd be concerned if you weren't. It's only natural."

"It's just…I'm not ready…for any of this. I'm not. There's still…there's still a lot of things I want to do one day." I hated how pathetic I sounded, but I couldn't bite back the words.

"I know. I don't want to think about it, the what-ifs, but it's impossible to stop." Ben responded. His tone matched mine. And for a second, I felt just a bit better, that this strong boy who scored a 9 was afraid, too. But then his expression morphed into one of resolve. "But I meant what I said before. I'm still going to fight as hard as I can. And if it isn't me, it better be you. With our partners, there's definitely a chance. Despite the odds."

"I know. I'm going to fight as hard as I can, too. But…" I hesitated for a moment, feeling an odd pang. "While I'm scared of dying in general, I'm also afraid that if it's horrible and my family has to watch…." I trailed off. The thought was intensely disturbing. Once again, I felt ill. I had tried my best not to linger on the possibility that if I died slowly or painfully, everyone from back home would have to witness it.

"You can't think about that right now. It will just stress you out," Ben responded gently, though I could hear the tension in his own voice, and had no doubt he'd considered the same possibility.

"I know. But on top of all of that…it's not just dying that scares me."

He turned towards me. "It's the thought that you might have to kill, and people you love will be watching?" He'd clearly put just as much thought into this as I had.

"Yes. I don't want my family to see me become a monster. Whether I live or die, I don't want to become an entirely different person." My voice was quiet, barely a whisper over the gurgling fountain.

Ben stood up from his bench, then, and walked over to mine. I scooted over to make room. Some part of me craved the closeness and comfort of another human, just because that was something that had mostly been lacking since I'd come here. And it was something I may never get again.

He threw an arm around me, then, pulling me inward. I huddled in towards his chest. Though it was platonic, it was soothing in its own way. And I found myself feeling a weird sort of conflict; gratitude towards Ben for trying to support me emotionally when he in no way should be required to do that, and sadness that he was even here to do it in the first place.

"I'm not sure anyone would ever survive the Games entirely unchanged, but becoming a different person? June, you strike me as one of the last people that would give up on the fundamentals of who you are. I'm sure that, no matter what happens, whatever makes you…well, you…will always be there." He gave me a reassuring squeeze.

And the surge of gratitude increased. "Thanks, Ben. I know it would be the same for you, too. You wouldn't change for…for them." I couldn't even force myself to say 'the Capitol' out loud right now.

"Maybe, but…I haven't been as good about sticking to my principles as you have." I could hear the insecurity and concern in his voice. He really was worried about what the Arena would do to him.

I shook my head, still pressed against his chest. "You're a good person. Fighting in the Arena, doing what you have to in order to survive, won't change that."

Ben's grip around me tightened. "I hope you're right."

There was silence for another moment, until I felt another wave of sadness crash over me, intermingled with regret. "I'm sorry that this happened to you. To both of us." I didn't bother trying to hide the negative emotions coming through in my voice.

"Me too."

And we sat like that for a while longer, wordlessly, the inevitability of our situation pressing in all around us.

…

I should've known that we wouldn't escape the roof entirely unnoticed by some of the more unpleasant tributes. Lambent and Chiffon were no longer around, but the other four were still present, and Caspian's sneering voice called out from the lounge before we reached the door exiting the roof.

"Well, well, if it isn't my two favorite tributes from District 7."

I tossed him a dark look, but was fully planning on heading back downstairs regardless, when Caspian added, "What, you're just going to ignore your partners, and the chance to talk Arena strategy?"

I could sense Cato's glare, but I refused to look at him, instead folding my arms in front of my chest and turning towards Ben. It was his partner, so in my mind, he could best extricate us from this situation.

"It's late," Ben responded tersely, before I could say anything. "We should be going."

"It's not that late if you have time for a nice stroll." Caspian's tone had a hint of mockery in it.

It was hard to fight back an annoyed retort. "Let's go, June," Ben sighed from next to me, sounding resigned.

"Honestly, with all of the concessions I'm making for you in the Arena, the least you can do is come join us for a couple of minutes." There was a little more force in Caspian's tone, now.

What is he talking about? "Concessions?" I asked Ben.

He shook his head, clearly not wanting to discuss it right now. He had tensed, though, and I knew Caspian's words had gotten to him on some level. Still, he hesitated, clearly not wanting to go join the Careers.

"Just for a moment," Caspian added, a smirk gracing his features.

"Fine. June, I'll be down in just a minute," Ben responded flatly.

"The invitation applies to both of you," Caspian retorted, sounding highly amused. "After all, her partner is here too." He gestured in Cato's general direction; all of them were still in the lounge, but Cato was situated on a couch across from the pair from 4, his arms folded. He looked highly unamused, eyes flicking between all of us. He was probably remembering our conversation from earlier, specifically me saying Caspian took every opportunity to harass me.

"Just let him pass the message along to her," Cato said coldly, jerking his head to indicate Ben. He didn't bother hiding his dislike for me from the other tributes.

Part of me truly did want to just turn and leave, but leaving Ben alone with them? What if they were legitimately talking about Arena strategy? As much as I hated the boys from 2 and 4, it seemed smart to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Of course, I could always ask Ben to tell me later, but hearing it directly from the source was probably wiser. And I would feel guilty abandoning him up here, with four Careers. He wouldn't do that to me.

"It would save time just to tell her, too," Caspian was saying in response to Cato. I didn't like the look on his face.

Cato's countenance hardened in response. He didn't like what Caspian was doing, either.

"Two minutes," I responded coolly. Ben glanced at me in disbelief, but I merely shrugged at him. "I'm not leaving you alone up here."

Caspian's smirk was back in full force as we approached the set of couches and table where they were situated. We stopped a safe distance away as my eyes briefly took in the other tributes. Bastion from 2 looked almost amused, while Azure from 4 was clearly bored (or perhaps she was fed up with Caspian's antics; I wondered how miserable it was being around him all of the time).

"So, what is it?" Ben asked, still with the same terse tone of voice.

"Where were you guys, anyway?" Caspian asked, not even responding to Ben's question. "The garden?"

Cato made a derisive noise before we could say anything. "Of course. The perfect opportunity for her to practice for the Arena by hiding in the trees."

I could see Caspian grinning out of the corner of my eye, and Bastion chuckled quietly in response to the jibe. Azure raised an eyebrow, looking at me appraisingly.

Annoyance surged within me. "Yes, because that's clearly what I was doing," I bit back sarcastically.

"Maybe you should ask them to plant a full forest up here," Cato responded, condescension in his voice. "That way you can hone your strategy."

"Maybe you should ask them to put practice dummies up here for you to decapitate. That way you can project your anger onto something else," I snapped.

Cato's eyes flashed angrily, but I was completely off guard when his fellow District 2 tribute burst out laughing. The sound echoed strangely in the air. Bastion's laughter was an odd foil to the aggression between everyone else.

"She's got you there!" The dark-haired boy said, eyes bright with mirth.

Cato leveraged a mutinous glare on the other boy, but to my surprise, didn't even snap at him or threaten him.

Bastion just smirked in response, his eyes glinting knowingly.

They're either friends, or they've known each other a long time, I thought. No way Cato would let that slip without a response otherwise.

"If you two are done," Caspian cut in before Cato could turn back to me with another barbed comment, "Let's talk about the obvious here."

"Which is?" Ben asked, unamused.

"I already explained to the others that I agreed not to come after June in the first Arena, in exchange for your cooperation with certain…other things." Caspian said.

My eyebrows rose. This solidified that there was a Career alliance this year, at least for several of them. But what had Ben offered in exchange?

"Some of us are working together, at least at first. Given the rules this year, it makes sense if you two tag along. Cato here," Caspian indicated the boy in question with a jerk of his head, "is especially concerned that June will get both of them killed otherwise."

So they were inviting us to the Career alliance? How could I ever trust them? And it was no secret that in terms of training score and general fitness for combat, I stood out like a sore thumb.

"How can we trust that? I know you can't kill me," Ben was saying, echoing my thoughts as his eyed bore into Caspian, "but that doesn't mean that others won't. How can you rely on an alliance this year when one tribute's outcome might almost be directly tied to their partner?"

Caspian shrugged, looking unconcerned, but it was Cato that spoke. I remembered that he'd always struck me as the leader of the little pack, back before the pairings were announced. "With so many tributes, it's mutually advantageous to team up initially. The alliance will be re-evaluated after the rule about your partner dying changes." His eyes were resentful, and I knew he hated the fact that he had to incorporate me into this little alliance by necessity, because my death could put his chances of victory at risk….depending on what the "penalty" was for our partner dying.

"So that's the only reason we can trust it? Because it's 'advantageous'?" I spoke up, my voice ringing with doubt.

"I would think you'd be the last one to complain, being the weakest one here," Cato responded coldly. "You'd have zero chance of being invited into this if it weren't for your connection to me."

Caspian seemed to enjoy Cato insulting me, while Azure was glancing between us. I should be embarrassed by his blatant dismissal of me in front of the others, but all I could really feel was irritation. "If that's the case, then I feel like I have less reason to trust it than anyone else. If I'm the easiest target."

"They know better than to prematurely break the alliance to try to get at me," Cato responded dismissively, as if he were positive that nobody else in the alliance would bother to attack me for fear of angering him. But I was all-too aware of how easy it would be for the others to agree to kill me in my asleep, and how could Cato take all of them on, especially if he were penalized by my death?

Though, with Ben there, that would help my chances slightly, and I supposed Caspian couldn't fight his own Arena partner if he defended me. I wondered if Bastion would even turn on Cato that early in the Arena, based on how they'd interacted…and I supposed the same was true of Azure, too, since Caspian was from her district. Most Careers seemed to avoid going after their own district partners during the Games initially. Then again, everything was different this year.

"Besides, you have him protecting you too." It was like Cato had read my thoughts. His icy eyes had settled on Ben, disgust evident in his gaze. "And 4 said he wouldn't attack you in the first Arena."

I remembered our conversation from earlier, where he was concerned that me caring about Ben could cost us. Perhaps this was Cato's way of trying to keep an eye on us, and ensuring he could step in if a problem arose. I hated thinking about what 'stepping in' would entail, though. If Ben died by Cato's hand because of me…

"Who else was invited to this alliance, besides potentially June and me?" Ben asked.

"The four of us, and the blondes from District 1," Cato didn't even bother saying their names. Typical.

So, with Ben and me, that would be eight tributes total. Ben and Cato wouldn't kill me, and Caspian would probably be faced with Ben's wrath if he tried, so I wasn't sure he would (at least at first), despite my complete lack of trust in his words. Bastion and Azure were less certain, but overall, at least half of the alliance shouldn't be trying to actively kill me…in theory.

Ben glanced down at me, his green eyes unreadable. "We can talk about it," he said quietly.

I nodded, because my mind was racing, and I wasn't sure what else to say.

Cato scoffed, but said nothing, and Caspian spoke up again. "How could you even resist the offer?" He asked, smirking knowingly.

He knew that if I accepted, I would have to tolerate both his and Cato's insufferable presences.

Even with this potential alliance, though, I was sticking to my plan of avoiding the bloodbath. Cato knew that, Ben probably guessed, but I had no intent to reveal my strategy to the others. Unless Cato already had. With how much he hated me, I wouldn't put it past him.

We turned to leave, prepared to discuss our options, when once again Caspian's voice followed us. "Decide quickly. Give one of us a signal before the gong sounds. Otherwise, the bloodbath might be a lot more difficult for you," Caspian almost seemed excited by that prospect. "I won't kill her, but plenty of others will, especially without the protection of a group." I knew he wouldn't be upset about my death.

Looks like we might be spending a lot more time together, I could practically hear him saying.

I could almost think of nothing worse.

…

We departed the roof then, feeling the gazes of the Careers boring into our backs. When we got downstairs, I ordered the familiar tea, knowing this might be the last time I ever had it.

Ben and I only spent a few minutes discussing what had happened on the roof. He absolutely refused to tell me about his arrangement with Caspian, which annoyed me, because I strongly disliked the idea of him agreeing to something—with Caspian of all people—in order to protect me.

But, after some back and forth, we tentatively decided to agree to the alliance. At least temporarily. Ben seemed certain Caspian wouldn't attack me. And since Cato couldn't, either, at least half the alliance was safe. They'd probably have access to superior weapons and resources, which was a huge advantage. And we'd make sure that the two of us never slept at the same time, so that we could warn each other if something went wrong.

It seemed that we had few choices, anyway. Our lives in part might depend on Cato and Caspian staying alive, and if they were together? Well, it practically forced us to stay close to them.

However, Ben and I definitively determined that at the first sign of the alliance crumbling, or a risk to one of us or our partners, we would leave it. At the end of the day, the principle of the Games remained the same. We had to put ourselves first.

Privately, I had my own strategy, as well. I was going to run and hide from the bloodbath, as intended, but I was going to be extremely cautious before I linked up with this so-called alliance. If they dominated the bloodbath—which was still an assumption, since there were several Careers not involved that could be forming their own alliance for all we knew—then they'd likely stay at the cornucopia to get supplies anyway. I'd circle back around, but I was going to try to observe as much as possible before making any decisions. Who knew what would happen when that gong sounded?

Trusting nobody—well, by now I had some trust for Ben, even though I was still going to be as cautious as possible—seemed the safest course of action.

After we came to an agreement, there was nothing else really to say. Before returning to our quarters, Ben gave me a long hug, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I clung to him in return, once again craving the human contact. Words didn't pass between us for a long moment; we were beyond that point. Who knew when I'd get to hug someone again? Would I ever get to hug someone again? The thought was heart-wrenching. Ben was warm, and strong, and reminded me of home. The thought that I'd have to go back without him if I lived made me sick. And furious. Everything about these Games was wrong, wrong, wrong.

With a last, long look, and a whispered, "good luck," Ben went to his room, and I went to mine.

After brushing my teeth and hair I turned on the screen depicting the ocean, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers up to my chin.

My brain was running itself into the ground, thinking about how every time I did something, it might be the last ever time.

The last time I drank tea.

The last time I saw the fake ocean.

The last time I brushed my teeth.

The last time I slept in a bed.

The last time I slept at all.

I closed my eyes, picturing my family, as vividly as I possibly could. For a brief minute, I allowed myself to fantasize about winning, about returning home. Seeing my brother and father, embracing them again. People cheering my name, happy to see me again. Having enough money to support my family, to ensure nobody I knew went hungry.

Then I allowed myself to fantasize about something even better: waking up back in District 7, with none of this ever happening at all. No name called on Reaping Day, no train ride to the Capitol, no makeover, no training, no scoring session, no gala, no interviews, and no Cato.

But that was just an idle fantasy, borne of a naïve, desperate tribute who wasn't yet ready to die. Harsh reality intruded in my thoughts soon, reminding me that in less than half a day, I'd be in the Arena.

I balled my hands in the covers, squeezing my eyes shut even tighter. I had to sleep, now more than ever, but naturally, it was next to impossible. The tea helped relax me some, but tonight, the fear and dread overtook any exhaustion I would otherwise be feeling.

It passed over me in waves. My heart was beating too fast to be comfortable. My brain was far too active for sleep to claim me. Minutes passed, then an hour, then two.

I knew I wasn't alone in this. Most of the other tributes had to be going through the exact same thing. I forced my breath to remain even, counting each inhale and exhale. I tried to coerce each individual muscle to relax completely until I could almost imagine I was sinking into the bed. I let the sounds of the ocean and the strange birds wash over me. The ocean was salty, I knew; I tried to imagine exactly what it would smell like standing on the shore. Slowly, that helped some of the tension subside.

At some indeterminate part of the night, I fell into a half-asleep state, and the dreams started clawing at me. Some incoherent, others pleasant, and others falling firmly within the nightmare category.

After multiple rounds of jerking awake in the middle of some sort of shallow dream or nightmare, I finally—mercifully—began to fall completely into a full state of sleep, my body exhausted enough to drag my mind down with it. It was far too late for me to get any semblance of comfortable rest overnight. Much like a lot of my other nights in the Capitol, I knew I would be exhausted when I finally woke. I only hoped adrenaline, spurred by the fear and desire to see my family again, would help keep me as alert as possible.

The last thing I remembered before descending into the restless sleep was the feeling of one single, warm tear coursing down my cheek.

A/N: Dialogue-heavy chapter, but seeing as how the future chapters will be much more action-oriented, I felt that it was warranted. I suspect this will be the longest chapter since I had to fit multiple events into one.

Also, I was originally planning on having June meet Plutarch in the gala chapter. But honestly, that just felt like main character favoritism. Plutarch is as conniving as ever, but he needed a reason to single June out. Her act of impulsive defiance at the gala certainly stood out. Still, she's not the only one he has his eye on.

Next chapter…we will FINALLY be going into the (first) Arena!

Thank you for the additional reviews, follows, favorites (for those of you on ) and kudos (for those of you on AO3)! I try to respond to every review individually.