Kepheus Goldwin, 51
Victor of the 75th Hunger Games, District 9

The Fourth Quarter Quell did not sit well with Kepheus Goldwin. He had been preparing mentally for the past few years for the 100th Hunger Games; as the Victor of the last Quarter Quell, he was under the impression that this year's Games would be as extravagant as the year that he had won. And while he was grateful that it was calm– well, as calm as the Capitol could be during Hunger Games season– it felt wrong. The Gamemakers had never ignored a Quell like this, and everyone thought that being the first year in the triple digits would make it a wild affair.

"There will be no Quarter Quell twist."

It wasn't right. Since when were the Gamemakers merciful? Moreover, since when were they quiet about being merciful? If the point of not having a twist was really to show mercy to the Districts, then why wasn't the government doing more to rub it in their faces? Why were there no news segments about how the Games crew was sacrificing their Quarter Quell for the comfort of the Districts?

Regardless of how suspicious it was, Kepheus tried to just be thankful. Roxanne seemed sweet, and if nothing else, he was glad that she didn't have the added craziness of a big Quarter Quell. He hadn't been able to make her open up a lot, but he had gathered that her father had died when she was little, and she had to grow up too fast. As sad as it was, it was the reality of a lot of the tributes that came in from District 9, so he tried hard to distance himself from the emotional aspect of his job in order to think more logically. Still, it had always been difficult for him to put his emotions aside.

Kepheus had won his Hunger Games at 26, in a Quell that promised that older, stronger tributes were still vulnerable to the Capitol. He spent eight years thinking that he was free from the Games, only to be as old as he possibly could have been for the Quarter Quell. He wished he could say that he was grateful that he didn't have to fight children, but it didn't help. So many of his competitors were fully grown adults with families and children like himself. Some of his kids' most formative memories were of their father as a murderer. He had done what he had to do to get home to them, but damn it if they didn't look at him differently.

Kepheus had only brought one tribute to victory in his 24 years as a mentor, and Amaranth had only won four years prior. Like Roxanne, she was nice enough, but it was a wonder she was even able to win her own Hunger Games. As much as he hated to admit it, Kepheus did not have high hopes for her ability to be a good mentor. He still wasn't sure if he regretted their agreement to let the tributes choose the mentors rather than the other way around. Arius didn't seem to have a strong outward preference for either of the mentors, but they all noticed that Roxanne gravitated more toward Kepheus. Kepheus didn't know if he should be grateful that the more competent mentor ended up with the tribute who needed more help, or if they should have stacked the deck and given the stronger competitor to the mentor who could help him more.

He supposed it didn't matter, though. At the end of the day, mentoring the tributes from District 9 was going to be a team effort. If Kepheus noticed that Arius had a chance of winning if he just helped him, he would just have to figure it out.


Ramsey Newman, 15
District 3

Ramsey was beyond stressed out about the Games. It was already the morning of his final day of training, and he felt like he had wasted his entire time in the Capitol so far. After all, he hadn't been able to make any friends, learn any new skills, or even put on any weight. Talking to people made him think about how in a matter of days, they would all be trying to kill him. Trying to learn about weapons and survival skills made him think about how he would have to use them in the arena. Worst of all, trying to eat anything of any nutritional value just made his stomach feel too full until he threw up. Limited to a diet of wheat crackers, bananas, and herbal tea, Ramsey was actually eating worse in the Capitol than he ever did at home.

Worst of all for his anxiety was his District partner, who seemed completely at peace– even happy in the Capitol. She completely cleaned her plate at every meal they had together, even poking Ramsey in the ribs and asking "Are you going to finish that?" when he started to turn green. She practiced with knives, drew colorful pictures on napkins, and giggled to herself when anyone told her anything she didn't like. As of the second day of training, she had even made an ally. The two were attached at the hip all day, and whatever little bit of pity that Orabella had had for Ramsey on the train was gone as soon as she found someone better to spend time with.

It wasn't like he could blame her, though, or any of the other tributes, for that matter. He was one of the least physically impressive tributes in the Games. If he was someone else, he wouldn't want to spend time with him either. He brought nothing to the table unless there was a secret association of sponsors who picked the most pitiful tribute each year to funnel their entire salary into keeping alive.

Ramsey couldn't help but wonder if his awkwardness could somehow be attributed to his family. He didn't remember being abnormal as a child, but it was crazy how much could change. He was ten years old when his parents had their third child. "Not a mistake," they had always said. "Just a surprise." Ramsey wasn't crazy about the idea of his parents having another kid when they could barely afford the two that they already had, but he was under no delusion that anything he could say or do would reverse the decision to have the baby.

His older brother was not so lenient. As the oldest sibling at 16 years old, a lot more responsibility fell onto him than Ramsey. He was expected to go to school, work evenings and weekends, and take out all the tessera possible. Luca had even gone so far as to say that the reason his parents had another baby was so that they could force him to take out more tessera. After all, the baby counted on paper as a person, but wouldn't actually be able to eat the entire year's allotment of food.

Luca snapped one day. Ramsey didn't know if it was the stress of school, work, the upcoming Reaping, or the colicky baby who had been screaming for days on end with no relief. But he got home one day to an eerily silent house, only to find his older brother standing over the mangled corpse of their baby sister. His breaths were heavy and shook his entire body with every struggled inhale. Ramsey would never forget the look in his brother's eyes as he held out his trembling hands, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. He had no clue how long his brother was there.

He never found out what his brother was going to say. He turned on his heel and sprinted to his parents' work. That day, he ran faster than he ever had and faster than he ever would again. He grabbed his parents and told them everything that happened in choking sobs, with tears in his eyes. They didn't even let him finish before they ran out of the building. They were faster than him, and his dad lifted him and carried him on his back so they could get home faster. They found Luca in the same position that Ramsey had left him; shaking in the middle of the room, breaths coming in shallow and loud. This time, silent tears were streaming down his cheeks.

His parents didn't want their oldest son sentenced to death, so the Peacekeepers dragged him to the only prison in the District. From then on, they acted like it never happened. As far as they were concerned, Miriam never existed, and Luca was on some extended vacation. Ramsey took over for his older brother, taking his first trip to the Justice Building for tessera the morning of his twelfth birthday.

It made him feel crazy. How was he the only person who remembered it? How were his parents so unaffected? Was Luca right; did they have another baby just for the extra food allotment? With both of them out of the house, was it just two fewer mouths to feed, backs to clothe, and bodies to keep clean and warm?

If Ramsey died in the Games, would they be happy he was gone? Or would they mourn the free supply of grain and oil that they got on the first of each month with no cost to them?


Celina Cisco, 17
District 10

After spending two entire days of training focused on bettering herself as an individual, Celina decided that she would spend the half-day before the tributes' individual sessions with the Gamemakers figuring out her alliance situation. Belinda had wanted her to find allies immediately, and she hated to think that she knew better than her mentor, but that wasn't how she wanted to do it. She knew herself, and she knew that if she locked herself into an alliance first thing, then realized that it wasn't in her best interests, she wouldn't have the heart to abandon ship.

So she spent those two days bettering herself, turning herself into a tribute that people would want to team up with. She learned a lot about human anatomy; pressure points to hit, and major arteries and veins that could cause a person to bleed out quickly if they were cut or stabbed there. She practiced her knife skills and found that she was much better with the weapon up close than she was at throwing them.

She had also spent a lot of time figuring out who she wanted her allies to be. She was still pretty adamant that she did not want to team up with boys. It wasn't that she thought that girls were better or anything. She just knew that she could absolutely not trust a man that she barely knew with her life. As far as she could tell, there were two teams of exclusively girls, and she was one of four that was flying solo; the others being in Districts 5, 6, and 9. She didn't want to pressure anyone who didn't have an alliance to start one this late, so that left her with two options; 7 and 8, or 3 and 11.

Out of the two options, it was easy for Celina to say that she trusted the girls from 7 and 8 more. They worked together quietly in tandem, and always congratulated each other when one of them learned something new. They were all freckles and wispy hair, the kind of girls who walked with their fingers laced together so that they didn't lose track of each other. They smiled sweetly, and if somebody else came to the station that they were practicing at, they didn't hesitate to walk away and let the other person have it.

They were sweet. They seemed perfect. And they were exactly what Celina's parents wanted her to be. Which was why she would absolutely not team up with them.

She hadn't talked to the girls from 3 and 11, but they seemed exciting. She had been able to get a read on almost everyone but these two. It was intriguing the way they flitted between stations, talking to each other in hushed tones and silencing the entire gym for a moment when they would cheer for each other and high five. They were the polar opposites of the girls from 7 and 8. They were everything that Celina always thought that she could be if she was allowed. And she just so happened to overhear them talking about needing a third ally.

On the third and final day of training, Celina was adamant that she would be the first one to the gym, with or without Tohias. He didn't put up a fight, and together, they were 20 minutes early and successful in arriving first. Celina was determined to intercept the girls (whose names she reviewed as Orabella and Clementina) before she lost the nerve, and before they found someone else.

Clementina got downstairs soon after, and Orabella was one of the last to arrive. Once they were all down there, Celina realized that she had no clue what to say to these girls. "Hi, I'm Celina, let's be allies" was awkward, but it wasn't as if she could go up to them and ask about their favorite fruit or what they did in their spare time. Celina was bad at making friends even when it wasn't a literal life or death situation. How was she supposed to do this?

In short, she didn't have to. As soon as all 24 tributes arrived and were released to start their last half-day of training, the girls approached her on their own.

"Hey," Orabella said. "I'm Orabella, this is Clementina. We happened to notice you've been on your own this week."

Be cool. Don't blow it.

"Yeah, I was just working on myself," she said. "I didn't think there was any use wasting other people's time if I wasn't going to be a good teammate."

"How did that go for you?"Clementina asked.

"Alright. I'm pretty sure I could kill someone ten different ways with a knife."

Orabella and Clementina looked at each other and seemed to have a conversation with no words. Celina wanted desperately to understand what they were thinking, and how these girls were able to be on such similar wavelengths after having known each other for just a day. Mercifully, they turned their attention back to her quickly.

"Do you want to hang out with us today?" Orabella asked. "No promises or anything, but we can see how we all score and take it from there."

That was actually perfect. It gave Celina a chance to get to know the girls, and if she decided that she didn't like them or if they scored terribly, she had an out. Worst case scenario, she thought that the girls from 7 and 8 seemed too nice to tell her no. She was uncomfortable with their politeness, sure, but no more uncomfortable than she would be alone in the arena. She could always ask them if it didn't work out with Orabella and Clementina.

Don't be too eager.

"Yeah, that works for me," she said. "Where should we start?"

As happy as Celina was that these two girls were so eager to at least give her a chance, she couldn't help but feel some apprehension. She thought that she would at least have to show some of her knife skills or prove some of her knowledge. But it seemed like they were happy that anyone would be willing to join them.

This begged the question; why couldn't they find anyone sooner?


Hudson Firth, 18
District 4

Hudson hated to say that he was incredibly nervous for his private session with the Gamemakers. He was pretty sure he was doing a decent job of not letting on to his allies about his insecurity, and for a while, he was even able to keep his own mind off of it.

Watching his allies train, he knew that there was no chance that he would out-perform, or even perform as well as any of them. Amos and Castor could both fight with a sword in each hand. Donnie could throw giant axes over her head. Risso had always been the most impressive trainee in her age group. Even Hera, who the entire group had not-so-subtly clocked as the weakest of the group, had scary good aim with a bow.

What did Hudson have? He was strong, sure, and when he was close to a target, he could hit it in the chest and head. But his aim was weak with distance weapons, and he didn't have any flashy strategies like the rest of them had. All he knew was how to run up on someone with a trident and stab them with no mercy. How was he supposed to compete with them? He was almost happy that they didn't end up letting anyone else in the group. He could handle being seen as the weakest of the Career tributes, if just barely, but there was no way he could live with himself if he let himself get beaten by an outer-District kid.

He was starting to wonder why he had cheated in the first place. It felt good when he was finally chosen to volunteer, and for a Quarter Quell, no less, despite how underwhelming it ended up being. But he couldn't cheat the Games the way he had cheated the Academy. There was no fudging the numbers or getting the answers ahead of time in real combat with real people. The Hunger Games were life or death. Training wasn't.

Still, there had to be a chance of him winning, right? And a decent one at that. On paper, he may be the weakest competitor from District 1, 2, or 4, but even the weakest Career tribute had to be stronger than the strongest from the outer Districts. The latest projection he had seen placed him fourth most likely to win, following Amos at 1, Donnie at 2, and Castor at 3. Granted, the training scores weren't out yet, but people already thought he had better odds than Risso and Hera.

There was also the distinct possibility that he could win even if he was significantly weaker than a lot of outer District tributes. For one thing, he was in the perfect alliance to always stay fed, hydrated, and warm. He had Hera wrapped around his finger. As much as she swore that what they had together was just sex with no feelings, he could tell that she wasn't sure of that herself. He was sure he could get her to dessert with him if he had to; kill Donnie and Amos and run away from Castor and Risso. Maybe with any luck, Castor and Risso would kill each other, and Hudson would be able to kill Hera in her sleep. Then suddenly, all of the strongest competitors would be gone.

That was, of course, only if it came down to it. He knew that he'd have to be stupid to abandon his allies before it was absolutely necessary. Every year without fail, when the strongest alliance broke up, sponsor gifts for those tributes stopped coming, and support for the underdogs grew. Hudson had slacked off in a lot of areas at the Academy but watching old Games was never one of them. He and his friends had always loved watching the particularly laughable years, screaming and throwing popcorn at the screen whenever a tribute did something especially stupid.

"Hello?" Hera said in a sing-song voice. "Anybody home?"

Hudson snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Hera. She widened her eyes at him, and he glanced around the group to see everyone else looking at least a little concerned. How long had he been stuck in his own head?

"Sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "What's up?"

"We were asking if anyone had any preference for where we trained last," Amos said. "There's only an hour left until lunch."

This was a loaded question, and his allies didn't even know it. He was certain that he was going to show the Gamemakers some trident work. So did he say that he wanted to do that so that he could improve? But then they would see him not doing his very best. The instructors might be able to help him raise his score by a point or two, but what would his allies think if they saw him ask for help in the area he was supposed to be unbeatable at? Ultimately, he decided that he would ignore it. It would definitely be easier to make up an excuse for a poor training score than it would be to explain why he was getting help in front of them.

"No, I don't care," he said. "Whatever you guys want."

"I think we should go to archery," Hera suggested.

"Why?" Risso asked. "Because it's your favorite?"

"Yes, actually." Hera crossed her arms. "I'm the only one out of the six of us who primarily uses a long-range weapon. Don't you guys think you should practice with a distance weapon in case you need to use one in the Games?"

She had a point, and the rest of the group was clearly uncomfortable with the fact that she was right. Donnie was great with a battleax, Hudson had his trident, and the other three were all partial to swords. Aside from Hudson and Risso's occasional toss of a spear, they really all did prefer to be up close and personal with their weapons.

"It's okay," Donnie said. "No need to fight. Let's go to archery."

When the six of them got to the station, the pair from District 12 was there, but they immediately put their weapons away when they saw the larger group coming. Good. Hera was a surprisingly good teacher. She positioned herself behind everyone, physically adjusting their elbows and telling them breathing tricks to make it easier to focus. Even the actual trainers from the station took a step back and let her do her own thing.

Hudson felt a bit bad for Hera. He thought that the rest of the group was too mean to her. He hadn't talked to her much in their alone time, but he had gathered that her life wasn't as easy as she let on, and figured that she was just defensive as a way to protect herself. He couldn't help but wonder what the rest of the group thought of him.


Teo Ramaigyan, 17
District 5

"Okay, so, bloodbath," Teo said. "What's the plan?"

It was the trio's last lunch before their individual sessions with the Gamemakers, and despite their close proximity to the other tributes, they were doing some last-minute hushed planning. Since none of them were District partners, it was going to be their last chance to talk for more than a minute until the Games started, and they were determined to make it count. Arius sat next to Teo, and Reese sat across from them. At the table to their left were the boys from 6, 7, and 10, who seemed to be doing the same thing as Teo and his allies. On their right was the girl from 6, who was picking at her food with her head down.

"I hate to say it, but I don't think we should just run away," Reese said. "We can't bank on gifts, and without any supplies, we won't last two days."

"So, what?" Teo asked. "You think we should just try to grab as much as we can without fighting?"

"I'll fight," Arius said.

Arius had made it clear to Teo from the beginning that he would do what he had to do to keep them safe. Teo didn't ask very many questions because, frankly, he was a bit scared of the answers, but he had gathered that Arius helping him with his punches wasn't just dumb luck. Someone had taught him. He also picked up on the fact that Arius did not much care for the tributes from 1, 2, and 4, and he did not need to be convinced to fight them first.

"Yeah, buddy, we all know you'll fight," Teo said. "But some of us- those of us who don't have giant muscles and unbridled hatred for Career tributes- want to make it away from the Cornucopia safely."

"You think I have giant muscles?" Arius asked.

Teo had to smile. Arius was definitely a bit rough around the edges, but he was still a person. He was just glad that he was getting more and more comfortable with him and Reese.

"Not the point," Reese said. "I still think we should just grab what we can and make a run for it as soon as possible."

"And I still think we should fight." Arius leaned forward on his elbows. "If we show the audience immediately that we can stand up for ourselves, they'll see that our odds are decent and be more likely to support us."

The thought of picking a fight so immediately left a bad taste in Teo's mouth. He knew that he would probably have to kill someone if he wanted to make it home, but he was still trying to convince himself that he would never strike first, only in self-defense. Still, he hated to admit that Arius was right. The Capitol loved underdogs, but they rarely supported pacifists. But was it worth adjusting his entire moral code just to come home to a world that will never be the same?

"So, how about this," Reese began. "What if Teo and I stuck around the outside of the Cornucopia and grabbed the lower-stakes supplies. Arius, you can go more towards the middle and grab the better stuff and weapons. Just because you're definitely the most likely out of all of us to be able to win a fight."

"Works for me," Arius said.

"Sounds like you guys need some backup."

The three boys looked up to see the smiling face of the girl from District 6. Her outfit was a sunny yellow that fit her demeanor, and she sat in the last empty chair at the table without an invitation. Teo exchanged a glance with Arius, then Reese, and the girl kept talking.

"My name's Lumi, and I think I might be just what you need," she said. "If you want to fight in those first couple of minutes, you're going to need someone watching your back. And as much as these two say they will, it's going to be hard to do that from thirty yards away while also trying to go through supplies."

The boys exchanged another round of unamused looks, and Arius looked at the girl as if to say "Are you done?" She was loud– way too loud. It was a wonder that she had heard the three boys' conversation enough to pick up what they were talking about, but her raised voice was causing the boys at the table next to them to turn their heads. She continued.

"What I'm trying to say," she said. "Is that I can help you. You can't watch your own back. I can."

The group was uncomfortably quiet, and the girl made it clear that she had no intent to leave until she had an answer. Teo already knew what Arius would think of her. He had enough of a problem with talking to Reese, but Lumi was something else entirely. She had volunteered, then showed clear knowledge of weapons throughout training. He didn't know what Reese would think, though, and he didn't want to make a decision unilaterally. It became clear that the other two wouldn't speak; Arius because he knew he would be mean, and Reese because he seemed to think he wasn't yet as much in the alliance as Teo and Arius were. That left Teo to speak.

"Why should we trust you?" he asked. "You just came over here and started talking to us. How do we know you're not just out to get us?"

"You don't," she said. "But that's just a risk you're going to have to take."

"So, why did you volunteer?" Arius asked as he crossed his arms. He was one of the least subtle people Teo had ever met, which he appreciated from the beginning. He had always preferred bluntness to being left to guess what a person really meant.

"I just…" her eyes flitted to Teo, then back to Arius. "I just thought I had an okay chance of–"

"She volunteered for my girlfriend." Teo turned his head to the left to see the boy from District 6 had walked over to them. He stood behind his District partner, who was still seated, and spoke directly to He stood behind his District partner, who was still seated and spoke directly to Arius. Teo figured it was obvious that Arius was the one who was in charge. "My fiancée, actually. She's sick. Something in her blood. They say it's unlikely she'll recover."

Lumi's shoulders relaxed, and she smiled slightly as she nodded along. As suspicious as her behavior was, the story checked out. Teo remembered the girl who was Reaped looking especially pale and weak, even for District 6. He also remembered the boy looking absolutely devastated before Lumi volunteered. Arius was practically seething as he looked at Teo and Reese. Neither had to say out loud what they were thinking; that it would be hypocritical to take in Reese and not Lumi when they had volunteered for such similar reasons. With an exasperated sigh, he relented.

"Fine," he said. "Have our backs in the bloodbath, and we'll see from there. But don't forget that any one of us could kick your ass without half-trying."


Chevvy Carnegie, 17
District 6

Chevvy hadn't eaten enough for breakfast or lunch, and he knew it. He couldn't help it, though. How was he supposed to eat when there was a lump in his throat that had grown from the size of a gumball to a grapefruit ever since his name was called at the Reaping?

His fifteen-minute session to show off everything he could to the Gamemakers was arguably one of the most crucial periods of time before the Games really began in just 48 hours, and he was going into it with an empty stomach and no game plan. He had picked up skills here and there, sure, but nothing that would impress these people who had been doing this for years or decades. Certainly, nothing that would impress them after watching six trained killers go before him, and with his District partner directly after who threw knives with worrying accuracy.

When Chevvy was at home, he could always count on Torque to calm him down when he was anxious like this. She never really had to try beyond running her warm fingers through his hair and speaking to him in her low, melodic voice that had captured him three years prior when she recited her poem to the class. There was something about her very presence that comforted him right to his bones.

He decided that if she couldn't be there with him physically, he would do the next best thing. Surely if he wrote her a note, someone could make sure it got to her once he was in the arena. The tributes were sat in a straight line in District order, with small square tables separating them by District; Amos, Chardonnay, table, Castor, Hera, table, all the way down to District 12. Chevvy was close to Everett but would have to lean over Lumi to talk to him, and Tohias was several yards away. At fifteen minutes per private session, that gave him a whopping two hours and 45 minutes until it was his turn. The poor last tribute would have to wait almost six hours to show off.

As a shrill Capitolite voice summoned "Amos de la Renta, District 1" to the Training Center, Chevvy reached for a pad of paper and a pen from the end table next to where he was sitting.

Torque,

By the time you're reading this, I might be dead. Woah– that's dark. Let me start over.

By the time you're reading this, I'll probably already be in the Games. I'm hoping this gets to you in a relatively timely manner, because I never want you to doubt that I spent every minute of my time in the Capitol loving you.

It's hard to keep track of time here. Remember that story we read in school a few years ago about the place where time stopped? The people staying there were so focused on themselves that they forgot to notice that the world was still turning without them until they eventually died, having completely forgotten about their lives. That's what the Capitol feels like. Every minute that I spend here is just counting down the minutes until the Games start.

I wish I was with you. Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad you're not here, and I thank Luminara every chance I get for volunteering in your place. Maybe it's childish of me to sit here pouting about how I wish I was with you, but I can't help it. I'm only truly happy when I'm with you. I'm glad you're not competing, but in a perfect world, I'd have you here with me just for moral support. Actually, in a perfect world, I wouldn't be here at all.

The food here is to die for. Maybe literally. I've never seen so much of it all in one place before, Torque, it's insane. How many people every day die from hunger back home for them to be able throw away entire pans of food just because someone thought it was too spicy? If I make it home– when I make it home, I'm making sure no one else has to die like that. I'll share my food, or I'll buy from more people at the market, or I'll help people find jobs. Anything I can do.

But first, I'm helping you get better. I'd let all of Panem burn to the ground if it meant I could save you.

I love you, Torque. Stay strong for me while I'm gone. I'm coming home for you. I promise.

Love always,
Chevvy Carnegie

Chevvy thought about crossing out the parts that could be interpreted as a bit treason-y if it got in the wrong hands; the stuff about food, burning Panem to the ground, and the Capitol being hell on Earth, but he decided against it. It wasn't like they could punish him any more than they already had.

He rummaged through the drawer of the table where he found the stationary until he found an envelope. He folded his letter into thirds and slid it in, and scribbled Torque's family's address on the front. He waved over an Avox, who rushed to his side.

"Is there any way you can get this letter back to District 6?" he asked. The Avox nodded quickly and slid the letter into his breast pocket before scurrying back to where he was standing. "Thank you."

Chevvy heard a shuffle, and he looked around the room. Both tributes from District 1 had already completed their sessions and were gone, and the boy from 2 was performing at the moment. But out of the remaining tributes, a few wordlessly reached for their own paper and pens and started writing letters of their own; the boy from 3, the girl from 7, and the boy from 11 were the first he noticed doing so. He smiled, hoping that whatever they had to say was just as important as what he had.


Castor Schultz, 18
District 2

Castor hated to jinx himself, but he thought that he had done a pretty good job at his individual session with the Gamemakers. As usual, his plan to do the best that he could without letting other people's negativity bring him down was more or less working. There was an undeniable weird energy between the six tributes from 1, 2, and 4, and Castor didn't know if it came from trying to have two leaders, or from two of them constantly sneaking off to hook up. Regardless, he did what he did best; kept his head down, practiced hard, and made sure no one would think he was weak, but no one would think he was an asshole either.

Surprisingly, Castor's saving grace in the Games took the form of the sullen brunette from District 4. He knew from the beginning that he would either have to make a new friend or spend the Games alone since he had never gotten along well with Hera. Amos and Donnie were nice enough but flashy and eccentric in the way that most tributes from District 1 were, and Hudson and Hera were off in their own little world. So, until the first day of training when he caught Risso biting back laughter when Hudson stubbed his toe and punched the wall, he thought he would be on his own.

They had only known each other for a few days, but they already seemed to be able to read each other's minds. All it took was a quick glance between them to say "this is ridiculous" or "is she serious right now?" Castor figured it must be some type of shared trauma, given the fact that both of their District partners were so undesirable in such similar ways.

This year, the boys' individual sessions were before the girls' in District order, which gave Castor a blissful fifteen minutes in the suite without Hera while she performed. If Castor had thought coexisting with her in District 2 was difficult, living with her in the Capitol was borderline impossible. He tried not to hate her, since they did have to be partners in the arena as long as they physically could, but she made it really difficult. She brushed off almost everything that Cato and Scoria told the two of them as if she already knew better than them, snapped at Avoxes if they didn't clear her plate the minute she was done and held Castor up every morning getting ready before training. He didn't care when girls cared about their appearances, but when it made him late, it became a problem.

"How did it go?" Scoria asked once Castor got back.

"Pretty good, actually," Castor said. He didn't want to sound full of himself, but he also didn't want to sell himself short. "Did some sword work."

"Classic," Cato said. "How do you think you did?"

"I bet a nine," he said.

Castor sat down on the plush leather sectional with his mentors and half-heartedly watched along with the tabloid show that was playing in the background between shots of fans screaming in the street and carrying homemade signs proclaiming their favorite tributes. He didn't know how so many people already had such strong thoughts about who would win and who would be the first to die. After all, the audience didn't get to see the tributes in the Training Center. All they knew was from the Reaping ceremonies and the Tribute Parade. Regardless, he couldn't be too upset. He was in most people's top three to win; usually with Donnie and Amos, but sometimes with Hudson or Risso. There was a lot of talk of how beautiful Hera was, but not very many people seemed to think she actually stood a chance at victory. As much as Castor disliked her, he knew that wasn't fair to her. She was good with weapons, and, objectively speaking, she did have the appearance and energy that people in the Capitol tended to prefer in their Victors.

When Hera came back to the apartment, Castor couldn't tell if her glow was from pride in a job well done, or simply from the sweat she must have worked up from the exercise. After she kicked her shoes off in the doorway, Scoria asked her about her session just like she had asked Castor.

"So good," she said, a grin spreading across her face. "So, so good. They seemed so impressed. I bet I got, like, at least a ten."

"At least?" Cato seemed amused with the girl's ambitions. If Castor remembered correctly, Cato himself had gotten a ten.

"Yeah, I mean, I definitely got a ten, but if anyone scored higher than that, it's me," Hera said. "Didn't someone get an eleven the year you won?"

"Yup. Girl from District 12, actually. And you know what happened to her?"

"I mean, clearly she died."

"You know who killed her?"

"It was your District partner," Castor recalled. He had watched Cato's Games in its entirety a few days before he volunteered. Scoria's, too.

"Also dead," Hera added.

"The point," Cato said, with a withering glare. "Is that training scores aren't the end-all-be-all of how the Games will turn out. Plenty of people have scored a three and still pulled a victory."

"Whatever."

Castor almost felt bad for Hera. She was clearly defensive about being the best at everything she tried, and he couldn't help but wonder how much of her self-worth was based around validation from others. It was actually sad. He supposed only time would tell how the scores would pan out, as well as how they would impact who ended up winning the whole thing. He could only hope that whatever happened was in his favor.


1. Which section was your favorite and why?

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

3. Thoughts on Kepheus?

4. Any predictions? (Training scores are revealed next chapter.)