Belinda Rodriguez, 58
Victor of the 59th Hunger Games: District 10

As much as it hurt to admit it, Belinda would be lying if she said that she wasn't worried about either of her tributes this year. Although Celina was technically the only tribute that she was responsible for on paper, she knew that Tohias's fate also rested largely in her hands as a mentor. Rusty was nice enough as a person, but he definitely fell short as a mentor, especially as of late. He was good at helping his tributes come up with strategies for training, interviewing, and the Games themselves, but when it came to doing his job with gaining sponsors and allotting gifts, he tended to get distracted.

She hated to say anything bad about him because he clearly cared whether his tributes lived or died, as any compassionate person would, but it seemed to be on the back burner for him. Instead, every event she had ever been to with him, he had seemed to spend most of his time showing photos he had taken of emaciated toddlers and farm animals to the other mentors against their wills. He always talked about wanting to show the photos to the sponsors, but never actually did, instead just attempted to guilt them into sending money directly to the struggling families in the Districts. But despite his efforts to get others to donate, Belinda was confident that he himself had never given so much as a loaf of bread to a homeless person, despite him having more money than any single man could ever think of spending in a lifetime.

So, as the only mentor who could really do anything for her tributes, Belinda was nervous. Celina, though gorgeous in her peacock ensemble, had not otherwise made an impression on the Capitol viewers. She smiled and waved and seemed overall nice enough, but from the outside, she seemed to lack personality. Tohias, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He came on very strong, and while some people found it endearing, Belinda had heard several potential sponsors talking about it being off-putting. But at least Tohias had found two boys to team up with– decent ones, too, by the look of them. Celina got back from training the night before and mumbled something about knives before shutting herself in her bedroom until dinner.

The best that Belinda could hope for Celina lately would be for her to make at least one friend, get a decent training score, and shine in her interview, which, at three and a half days, was approaching rapidly. But at this point in the process, she knew very little about her tribute. She didn't know her strengths and weaknesses, anything about her home life, or what she would be looking for in a partner. How was she supposed to work with that?


Clementina Romanesco, 18
District 11

"You'll need allies," Mirabelle said over breakfast. "Little thing like you, you won't last an hour in the arena without people to protect you."

Clementina stopped eating, gritting her teeth as her fork scraped the bottom of the ceramic plate. She pushed her food around her plate and kept her eyes laser-focused on the quickly congealing mess of eggs and sausage while she thought of how best to respond to her mentor. She hated being talked to like that, but she also knew that if she had to be on one person's good side, it should be her mentor. Still, it had to be good to have boundaries, and to set her mentor up with realistic expectations of her abilities. And what Mirabelle didn't know was that despite her unassuming nature, Clementina was more than capable of handling herself.

"I don't need anyone to protect me," she said after some thought. "I've made it this far in life on my own. I think I can make it another couple of weeks."

"Bullshit," Mirabelle said. She drained her teacup then peered down to the soggy leaves at the bottom of the cup. She seemed to ponder them for a moment, and squished them with the back of her spoon before speaking again. "Everyone thinks that they'll be fine on their own and nobody ever is. Truth is, you'll need someone stronger than you and someone smarter than you on your side to give you a fighting chance. It don't matter if that's the same person or two different ones, but what you gotta figure out is who that's gonna be and what'll make them wanna team up with you."

"What do you mean?"

"These people are gonna help you. What're you gonna do to help them if they're already stronger and smarter than you?"

"I can keep them alive." Clementina put her silverware down and leaned onto the table. "Find them food, build a fire."

"So you need to find people who can't do that for themselves."

Mirabelle's words rang in Clementina's ears throughout the second morning of Games training. As much as she hated to admit it, Mirabelle was probably right. She really should have at least one person to help her out. Besides, if it came down to it, she knew that she would be fine with killing anyone she had to. If she got the feeling that her ally was about to turn on her, she would just turn on them first.

The only question was who. All eight volunteers were out of the question, including– no, especially– her District partner. The tributes from 1, 2, and 4 had obvious motives for volunteering, and the girl from 6 clearly knew her way around a set of throwing knives, but Clementina knew District 11, and she knew that Reese was in no way prepared for what the arena held for him. She had heard of a few outer District kids volunteering in the hopes of returning to better circumstances, but she couldn't help but think that she would rather live her entire life in the poverty of District 11 than fight in the Games and come home wealthy. She couldn't think of a single reason why he would have volunteered.

Besides the volunteers, Clementina also didn't like the girls from 7 and 8, who had clearly teamed up. They seemed fragile, like a single clap of thunder would cause them to faint. They definitely weren't stronger than her, and she got the feeling they weren't smarter than her either.

Her gut brought her to the girl from District 3; Bella-something. She was a good amount smaller and younger than Clemetina, but she threw spears that were nearly as tall as she was with the ferocity of someone who had been waiting to do so all her life, albeit the accuracy of the over-excited child that she was. Still, Clementina decided to approach her, if just to introduce herself. The worst that could happen would be if she said no.

Clementina approached the girl between rounds of throwing sticks, and the girl spoke before she had the chance to.

"Clementina Romanesco," the girl recited. "District 11, age 18, Reaped."

"That would be me." Clementina felt the tiniest bit bad for not knowing the girl's first name.

"So, why'd you come over here? Something to say, or did you just want a better view of my target practice?"

"You saw me watching?"

"You weren't exactly subtle." District 3 unscrewed the cap from her water bottle and took a few swallows before speaking again. "Orabella."

"Orabella," Clementina repeated. "I was wondering–"

"I don't want to commit to anything," Orabella interrupted. "But I was watching you a little bit yesterday and you're definitely one of the only people here I'd consider."

Clementina was relieved. She was glad to hear that she wasn't the only one who had been a bit disappointed by her competitors. Well, maybe "disappointed" wasn't the right word. She was overwhelmingly glad that it should be easy enough for her to win, but it made it hard for her not to be alone for the duration.

She liked Orabella. At least, she didn't dislike her. They practiced alongside each other for the rest of the morning until lunch, not wasting their breath on small talk but wordlessly stepped in to help fix each other's stances and hand placements when it was needed. After a few hours passed, she had a feeling that Orabella was there to stay. After all, they had continued to train side by side and neither had told the other to leave.

At lunch time, Clementina breathed a sigh of relief when Orabella sat down next to her without a word.


Risso Copeland, 18
District 4

Risso wanted to punch Hera for suggesting that their alliance consider additional tributes from the outer Districts, and she hated Hudson for being on her side enough to convince Donnie and Amos to consider it. She had always thought that even an alliance of six was borderline too many; with eight to twelve tributes usually dying right at the beginning, a six person alliance could mean that half of the remaining tributes could be in one alliance. She didn't like the idea of bringing in even more people. But why would they listen to her when they were so wrapped up in their own thoughts? Donnie and Amos clearly prioritized each other over the alliance as a whole, and Risso wasn't so naive that she couldn't ignore her District partner sneaking off with Hera every chance they got. The only one who wasn't completely self-obsessed was Castor. But he, much like Risso herself, seemed to be more of a quiet observer. She appreciated that about him. He only spoke when it made sense to.

But the alliance had spoken, and suddenly they were scouting outer District kids with no formal training to join them. While some of them were mildly impressive compared to the others, Risso still held fast in her belief that the alliance should not get any bigger.

"The guy from 9 seems to know how to fight," Castor said as the alliance scanned the room. "Maybe he's a wrestler?"

A lot of stronger boys from the outer Districts talked at length in their interviews about how they were on their school's wrestling team. While the boy from 9 could definitely throw a punch, some of his moves seemed like they would get him disqualified in a tournament setting. Still, he hit with more aggression that Risso had seen from some of the boys back home.

"He seems decent enough, but he's been practicing with the boy from 5 all day today and yesterday," Donnie said. "If they're a package deal, I don't want them both."

Risso had to agree on that front. The boy from 5 seemed smart enough, but not enough smarter than herself or Amos or Castor to make it worth him joining their team. The last thing that they needed was dead weight to carry around. Hudson and Hera already seemed like they would do enough damage, but she couldn't exactly leave them.

"Agreed," Amos said. "What about the girl from 6? Luminara? She clearly knows what she's doing with those knives."

"And she volunteered," Hera added. "I'd like to know why."

"If we're talking about volunteers, we can't count out the guy from 11," Hudson said.

The alliance decided that they would seek out the girl from District 6 first, since she was the most obvious asset. They also agreed that they would keep their eyes on the boy from 11 and wait for him to do something impressive, and if the boys from 5 and 9 suddenly stopped practicing together, they'd approach 9.

Eventually, they decided that Hera, Castor, and Risso would be the ones to approach the girl from 6. Risso agreed that having all six of them invite her all at once could be overwhelming, and Amos and Donnie decided that the three of them would be the most personable. Risso never thought of herself as friendly, but she supposed that compared to the best friends from District 1 and her degenerate District partner, the three of them were the best choices.

"Let me do the talking, okay?" Hera said as the three approached the girl. Risso and Castor made eye contact, and she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling as Castor rolled his eyes. Risso had a tendency to get overly frustrated by small things, so the knowledge that Castor was just as irritated with Hera as she was was comforting, especially considering the fact that she was his District partner. If he was rolling his eyes at her, surely she could too.

The three approached the girl as she landed her third consecutive bullseye with petite throwing knives. Hera gave a series of small claps, and the girl turned around and cocked her head slightly to the right.

"Nice job!" Hera said. "I'm Hera, and these are my friends. We've been watching you for a little bit, and we're honestly very impressed. You're doing a great job for someone from a poor District. So we were wondering if you'd like to practice with us for the rest of the day."

"Thanks, but no thanks," she said. "You guys aren't really my style."

"Excuse me?" Hera crossed her arms and glared at the girl.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," the girl said. "I guess I just prefer less… theatrics?"

Risso wasn't sure whether she should be offended or relieved. On one hand, she was glad that it was becoming less likely that their already large alliance would have to grow any more. But on the other hand, who did this District 6 brat think she was to imply that she was too good to join them? Didn't she realize that now that they had acknowledged her as a strong competitor, declaring herself as their enemy would only make them want to eliminate her as quickly as possible?

"Well, just so you know–"

Castor cut Hera off. "Hera, it's not a big deal. Let's just go." He slung an almost protective arm around his District partner's shoulders, which she quickly shrugged off, before he looked back to the girl who had just rejected their alliance. "Thanks anyway. And good luck out there."

"May the odds be ever in your favor!" The girl beamed as she waved goodbye. "Nice meeting you all!"

Risso decided that the girl was definitely weird. Very few outer District kids ever volunteered, especially not as gleefully as she had. She seemed excited about the Games, but not in the way that the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 usually were. Those tributes volunteered to bring honor and glory to their Districts. She seemed to think that the Games would be like playing in the schoolyard after lunch. The girl was definitely due for a reality check, and Risso got the feeling that it wouldn't come until after the Games began.


Reese Obilaso, 18
District 11

Morally speaking, Reese knew that he made the right choice in volunteering for the Hunger Games. In a pretty direct way, Durian's death would be on his hands. It was Reese's fault that he wouldn't have stood a chance. Moreover, if the old ladies that blew smoke into the wind and read palms for pocket change were to be trusted, it was entirely possible that it was Reese's fault that Durian was Reaped in the first place. There was talk every year about rigged Reaping ceremonies, and how awfully convenient it was that children who caused problems in the orchards often ended up on the next train to the Capitol. It did make a whole lot of sense that the boy who had gotten the Mayor's daughter pregnant would end up in the Games.

The topic that was weighing most heavily on Reese's mind was his upcoming interview; his one three-minute shot to convince the audience that he was capable enough to win the Games, but not so capable that he could do it by himself. He knew that as one of two outer-District volunteers, there was a good chance that he already had a lot of people's attention. A decent training score and interview could really seal the deal.

He grappled a lot with how much of his story he should tell to the audience. Would telling his entire story win over the sponsors with his vulnerability, or would his own self-portrait of a man willing to let bad things happen to innocent people for his own safety make them dislike him? And what would the people back home think if they found out the truth? Would they root for him in the Games? Would they welcome him back if he won? He didn't even want to think about what the other tributes would do if they knew that much about his personal life.

As much as he hated to admit it, Reese also couldn't stop thinking about the other tributes. He was usually self-sufficient– in fact, it had grown to be a point of pride for him. But after 99 years of the Hunger Games, any idiot could realize that it was an overwhelmingly good idea to have backup on their side in the arena.

From the beginning, Reese had thought that if he had to join forces with people (which he definitely did), his top choices were the boys from 5 and 9. The District 11 mentors drilled it into their tributes' heads that it was a good idea to team up with someone smarter than them and someone stronger than them, and those two fit the bill perfectly. When he noticed the two of them spend their entire first day of training together, he made a mental note that if they were still friendly with each other the next day, he would approach them. It felt like too perfect of an opportunity to ignore.

So, shortly before lunch on the second day of training, Reese decided to bite the bullet and approach them. He had noticed that a lot of the previous day was spent with the boy from 9 helping the boy from 5 with physical combat, but today, they were working side by side on some survival skills. Reese viewed this as the perfect opportunity. If he could prove that he could be of value to the two of them, they'd be more likely to accept him into their group.

"Hey," he started. "Do you guys mind if I practice a little bit over here?"

"I don't really care," the boy from 5 said. Reese noticed that his lips twitched before he smiled. "I don't own the station."

"Not so fast," the boy from 9 said, holding up a hand. "Don't you think you'd be better off over there with them?"

Reese followed the boy's gaze to the pack of Career tributes as they ran through the elevated obstacle course, certain of their every move. His brows furrowed as he returned to make eye contact with the boy who had just challenged him.

"What makes you say that?" Reese asked.

"I just figured the volunteers would want to stick together." He crossed his arms.

"I'm nothing like those guys."

"Then why are you here?" asked the boy from 5, finally finding his voice.

Reese had to make a split second decision. How much of his story could he tell these people that still might not take him on as an ally? What was the perfect balance of convincing them that he wasn't a crazy killer but still seeming like he knew what he was doing? He decided to go with nothing but the truth, but not the whole truth.

"Did you not see the guy I volunteered for?" he started. The two boys glanced at each other, but kept their mouths shut. "Dude, he was blind. He wouldn't have lasted two minutes on a chariot, much less in the arena."

He was off to a decent start. Nothing that he had said was a lie.

"Well, why did you have to be the one to volunteer for him?" 5 asked.

"I didn't see anyone else racing up there to save him," Reese said. Also not a lie.

"Didn't seem like you gave anyone else a chance," said the boy from 9.

"Look, if you really don't want me to train here, I don't have to," Reese relented. "But I definitely won't be hanging out with those guys."

He turned around and took about three steps away before he was summoned back by the boy from District 5, clearly against his partner's wishes.

"Wait," he said. "You can train with us for now. Just… You're on thin ice, okay?"

Reese tried not to let on how relieved he was. The boy from 9 was still glaring at him, but thin ice was better than freezing water. At least now he would have the chance to prove to these guys that he was better than what they thought of him. And with any luck, the three of them would go all the way into the Games together.


Amos de la Renta, 18
District 1

As chaotic as it was, Amos couldn't say that his allies weren't entertaining. There was himself and Donnie, who obviously already knew that they worked well together. There was also Risso and Hudson, who were clearly not fond of each other for reasons that Amos still was not aware of. Not to mention the fact that Hudson and Hera were clearly hooking up whenever they had a chance. And then there was Castor, who Amos almost felt bad for since he was so… normal compared to the rest of them. If they weren't his allies and his future success didn't rely at least a little bit on them, the chaos would almost be funny.

Overwhelmingly, Amos was glad that Hera's idea of introducing more people to their alliance didn't seem like it was going to work out. Although he and Donnie were technically in charge of the group and neither of them agreed with the idea, they both agreed that it was important to them to entertain other people's ideas, even when they thought they were bad. Especially because they were going the nontraditional route of having two alliance leaders, they didn't want to jeopardize their dynamic by upsetting anyone.

Truthfully, Amos was a bit shocked that the group trusted his leadership as much as they trusted Donnie's. For as long as they had been friends, Donnie was definitely the friend that people looked to for guidance– the one that people expected to have it together. Amos always knew that he was capable, but it was nice to hear that other people, especially people that he had just met, agreed. That wasn't to say that he resented her in any way. He was always happy to let her take the lead. But now, they felt so much more like equals.

As the six of them sat down for lunch, Amos made it his mission to find common ground. The group hadn't had much of a time to bond, and he was afraid that if they weren't able to at least tolerate each other in the arena, they would all be responsible for each other's destruction. It was clear that Hera, Risso, and Hudson were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn on the group, and if they were able to get Castor on their side, Amos didn't like his and Donnie's odds in a two versus four fight.

"My mom makes a killer roast chicken," Amos said as he cut into his own piece. It was weak, but he hoped that it was open-ended enough to get someone else to speak about anything but the Games. He waited for a beat too long, the still air filled with the light sounds of ice in glasses and silverware on dishes. "Um… How's the food here for you guys? Compared to back home?"

Surprisingly, it was Risso who spoke first. "Not bad. A lot less seafood than I'm used to."

"Cheers to that," Hudson said, raising his glass. "I never noticed how bad the ocean smelled until I got away from it."

"I've never been to the ocean, but it can't smell worse than the quarries," Hera said. She took a dainty sip of her drink before continuing. "There are so many machines running all the time, the air just smells like burnt rubber. It's gross."

Amos risked a glance across the table to Donnie, and she met him with a rare smile. After seven years of friendship, he could tell exactly what she was thinking; not a great start, but better than fighting.

Throughout the rest of their allotted lunch hour, the group continued to talk about things that were relatively inconsequential, but that Amos hoped would help strengthen their dynamic as a team. Amos talked about his two older brothers, and Hera batted her eyelashes and jokingly asked if either of them were single, receiving a subtle elbow in the side from Hudson. The group counted together getting louder with each couple of seconds as it was revealed that Risso could hold her breath for almost three entire minutes, nose plugged and everything, and a good-natured round of bullying followed when Hudson mentioned that despite loving to surf, he wasn't the strongest swimmer. With just ten minutes left of the break, the group sat in stunned silence as Castor sketched an easily identifiable picture of Donnie on a napkin.

"That could come in handy," Donnie said, examining her portrait. "Do you think you could do that for all of the tributes? It might help us keep track of everyone. You know, names, training scores… status. Stuff like that."

Amos wanted to be upset with Donnie for turning the conversation back to the Games, but he knew logically that he couldn't. She made a good point, and he didn't know if it would ever come up naturally again. Besides, the group had had nearly an hour of friendly chatter, which was more than he thought they would get. It could be a good idea to start talking more about strategy before they launched back into training.

"Yeah, I could definitely do that," Castor said. "I already know almost everyone's names anyway."

"Oh, me too!" Amos said. He had never understood why so few tributes made a point to learn each other's names. He didn't doubt his skill by any means, but he was nowhere near arrogant enough to think that he didn't need to know as much as possible about each of his competitors if he wanted a chance to beat them. If he couldn't even remember their names, how would he remember their weaknesses?

"So, it seems like our whole expansion idea is out the window," Hera said.

"What do you mean?" Hudson asked. "It was just one girl who rejected us."

In response, Hera nodded her head towards a table which seated the boys from Districts 5, 9, and 11; clearly a team. While Amos would have been okay with any of the three (though he was partial to Arius), he had to admit that bringing in three outsiders would have been a stretch, and he doubted any of them would want to leave their group. But again, he wasn't terribly saddened by that.

When the bell rang signalling the end of lunch, Amos found himself upset that their conversations had to end. He just hoped that their friendly working relationship would last beyond the meal.


Zezza Fritts, 15
District 5

It was a bit disheartening to Zezza how much harder sword fights were when the swords were real weapons and not made of cardboard. She had thought that it would be easy enough to take the strategies and moves that she had come up with during her nighttime battles with Maleah and apply them to the Hunger Games. But she learned quickly that metal swords were too big for her to lift over her head, large shields were too heavy to hold on her left arm for too long, and protective armor made it hard to breathe. Still, she knew that that was where her baseline knowledge was, so she used it as a jumping off point. She figured it would be easier to learn how to actually use a weapon when she already knew how to use it in theory.

As much as she preferred the aesthetic of the large weapons she had always fantasized about as a child, she learned quickly that her best chance of mastering a weapon was with a short sword. She thought about knives as well, since they were so much smaller, but her aim was poor and it made her sick to her stomach to think about getting close enough to a person to use a knife on them.

Well, it made her sick to her stomach to think about using a weapon on a person at all. It was one thing to knock the cardboard sword out of Maleah's hand and hold her own dull point to her friend's throat as she cheered in triumph at her pretend victory, but they never drew blood. Never fell to the ground in agony. Never left behind a family, friends, a life. No, Zezza couldn't pretend that the Hunger Games would be anything like slaying dragons and rescuing princesses with her friend, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself.

Aside from practicing with a short sword, Zezza had been spending a large portion of her training time with logic puzzles. It was a station almost entirely overlooked by others, aside from the occasional appearance by the boy from District 3, with whom she was more than happy to share the area but had no desire to team up with. She couldn't figure out why the station was so deserted. Sure, the situations that she was being given weren't inherently useful to her survival in the arena, but she thought that it was important to learn how to solve problems.

When she was confronted with the need to transport an eagle, a snake, and a large egg across a bridge one at a time without the eagle eating the snake or the snake eating the egg, she didn't ask questions. She didn't stop to wonder why the eagle couldn't fly over the bridge, why she couldn't carry the snake and the egg at the same time if she could carry an entire eagle, or why she would need all three of these things in the first place. She just took the snake to the other side, went back for the egg and dropped it off, took the snake back, brought the eagle across, and went back one last time for the snake. She was about to complete the puzzle when she heard two pairs of footsteps approaching her.

"We need someone else," Zezza heard a girl's voice insist.

"I don't know," the second voice said. "Definitely another girl, though, if anyone. I don't like or trust any of the guys here."

Zezza always felt guilty eavesdropping, but the thin walls of her house made it come naturally to her. She decided to listen to these girls' conversation; not because of strategy, or because she thought that it would help her in the Games to know who was teamed up with who. She simply wanted to be in on the gossip. She risked a sneaky glance out of the corner of her right eye to see two brunettes on the short side, one wearing sage green and the other in pale pink. Districts 3 and 11.

"I want someone smart," said the first voice; the girl from 11. "You can do the weapons. I can do the 'keeping us alive' part. We need to find someone who can strategize."

"Tina, that doesn't really leave us with too many options," District 3 said. "Besides, a lot of the girls are already teamed up with other people."

The two girls talked for another couple minutes before Zezza decided that this chatter about alliances had nothing to do with her, and was frankly boring. She herself had no desire to join any type of alliance, besides of course the unspoken one that she and Teo would not outright kill each other. She decided to remove herself from the situation and go somewhere else, so she pressed the complete button on the logic screen.

"Session complete. Eight out of eight puzzles answered correctly. Nice job!"

As the robotic voice from the puzzle screen congratulated her on her success, Zezza noticed the two girls' heads snap in her direction. The three girls regarded each other in silence for a moment before the other two made eye contact with each other. They seemed to communicate with each other in a way that transcended spoken word before returning their attention to Zezza. The girl from 11 opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could, Zezza muttered a meak "excuse me" before retreating back to short swords.

There was not a doubt in Zezza's mind that she was now on these girls' radar, though she desperately wanted to get off of it. She did not want allies at all, but she had a feeling that rejecting their request would upset them and put a target on her back. She wondered if she could completely avoid them for the rest of the time before the Games– or even throughout the Games, as late alliances were common– or if she could help them find a third girl who would actually want to join them.


Aris Pelletier, 14
District 4

By the end of the second day of training, Aris found himself completely alone. He wasn't shocked that nobody seemed to want to partner up with him; out of the 24 tributes, he was in the bottom three for both age and size. What did surprise him was that he didn't mind the solitude. One of the first things he thought of once he was chosen for the Games was how badly he wanted to form a team, since there was power in numbers, and he didn't trust himself to keep himself alive on his own. But the more he watched his competitors, the less he trusted any of them. The tributes who couldn't outright break him in half like a stick reminded him of snakes in tall grass. He just knew that each and every one of them would wait for the best moment to strike, and his life would be over before he even realized what was happening.

It was fine. Really, it was. Aris had surprised himself with how much he had been able to learn so quickly, and he had a feeling that if he was spending all day with other people, he would have had to have made compromises, and he wouldn't have been able to focus on everything that he wanted to have learned. In the past two days, he had learned how to set traps for people and animals, how to use a dagger on someone up close, and had even fine-tuned his dagger skills for close combat. What if he had been working alongside someone who didn't have any interest in learning those things? And what if those were the things that ended up being crucial for his survival in the arena?

The arena. Every minute that passed, the arena felt less and less like the abstract concept that it always was before and more like the undeniable truth that it would soon be. The truth was that the reality of Aris being in the Hunger Games still hadn't set in yet. It was almost as if he could stop himself from entering the Games for as long as he convinced himself that it wouldn't happen. And it didn't feel like it would. It just felt like a long, strange dream, and he would eventually wake up in his bed in the tiny trailer he lived in with his parents.

For now, he was still going through the motions. Wake up, eat good food, and do what he's told. In a way, it was nice having his day planned out for him. It was comforting to know that there was a set process to preparing for the Games, and with everyone following the same schedule, there was no way for Aris to be putting himself at a disadvantage. He would hate to have to decide how to spend his week before the Games. It was bad enough having to decide which stations to practice and when. He couldn't imagine being given the choice of what to do and when and choosing incorrectly.

After dinner, Aris spent some time alone in his room– rather, the room that he was currently being allowed to stay in. His entire day of training had been spent alone as well, but there was a big difference between being alone in a gymnasium full of people and being completely alone in the solitude of his own room. He had come up with a ritual of sorts over the past few days that he had been in the Capitol. Once he finished his mandatory activities, he would lock the door to his room, take a warm shower and come out smelling like wood and herbs before settling into his bed to read a few chapters of a book that he would likely never get to finish before falling asleep surrounded by plush, warm blankets.

On top of passively enjoying the luxuries that the Capitol had to offer, Aris found that he thrived with a routine. Sure, he had the impending Hunger Games to work himself up about, but he didn't have to concern himself with balancing school, work, and family, or where he would need to find his next meal. Having everything taken care of for him was almost enough for him to understand why the Capitol citizens turned a blind eye to how badly the Districts were treated. If he had always lived in this kind of luxury, he couldn't think of doing anything to risk losing it. It was hard enough being born into poverty, but he had to imagine that it would be infinitely harder to adjust to it if it was new.

That wasn't to say that he didn't still resent the Capitol citizens for living a life that the vast majority of District kids could only dream of. It wasn't as if the Capitol would be reduced to nothing if the Districts were to get a bit better. Surely there was a way to make sure that everyone in Panem had what they needed to go to bed with a full stomach and a roof over their head, even if that meant that the wealthiest wouldn't be able to get a freshly slaughtered fillet at the press of a button.

At the end of the day, though, Aris supposed there wasn't much use in speculating about what could be or complaining about reality. In all likelihood, he wouldn't make it out of the Games alive and would no longer have to concern himself with those thoughts. There was also the off chance that he did win the whole thing, in which case he still wouldn't have to worry. He'd be richer than any of the Capitol people could ever dream of.

He wondered if he would be able to live with himself if he survived.


1. Which section was your favorite? Why?

2. Did this chapter change how you felt about any of the characters?

3. Thoughts on Belinda?

4. Any predictions?