Jayce Dotter, 18

District 6 Female

So, a 6.

It's not bad, certainly. It's acceptable, according to Kasumi. But Larch scored higher than her, and Jayce has to admit that she never has liked being second best.

And with Ishtar getting an 8, no less. It certainly doesn't help ease the pain of being second best.

Nothing helps ease the pain, in fact. With little more than twenty-four hours to go before they launch into the arena, Jayce doubts she'll find a source of comfort anywhere. But she knows she has to soldier on. She just has to get home, and then everything will work itself out…

…at least, that's what she keeps telling herself. Maybe if she thinks it enough times, it will come true.

But that's not how it works. That's not how anything works. The only thing that can save her is herself. Not Ishtar, not the Gamemakers, not Kasumi, and certainly not magic.

"Hey, Jayce? Ishtar's here and she wants to talk to you," Kasumi says suddenly from the door frame, leaning out into the fresh, summer air.

Jayce stands up, facing away from the glorious Capitol. "Oh."

"Work with her, remember? Give 'em what you got," Kasumi reminds her as she comes inside. "It'll help, I promise."

Jayce nods and approaches Ishtar with her head high and her shoulders back. Ishtar may not be able to save her, but she sure can help.

"Jayce!" Ishtar says happily, rushing forward to give Jayce a hug. Jayce reluctantly wraps her arms around Ishtar's back, slightly uncomfortable.

After a moment, Ishtar pulls back and glances at Kasumi, Dixie and Larch. "We need to talk. Like, privately."

"Alright," Jayce says stiffly. Everything just feels wrong with Ishtar. Jayce has to wonder if it was wrong when they were still together—was something about their relationship off? Or is it a new development, courtesy of District 6 and Drew Huck?

Ah, Drew. Jayce misses her. She wonders if she misses Drew like Ishtar missed her.

Somehow she doubts it. Ishtar loves in a different way than Drew and Jayce do.

"So, what do you need to talk about?" Jayce says as she follows Ishtar into her own bedroom.

"I—" Ishtar starts, only to be cut off by the loud slamming of the door.

"What the—?" Jayce says, going to door and trying to turn the knob. "It's jammed!"

"I'm sure it's not!" Ishtar says, reaching for the doorknob as well. "Oh."

That's when Jayce hears someone laughing on the other side of the door. "Goddamnit, Kasumi, open the door!"

"I'll open the door when you too stop dancing around your feelings," Kasumi says, her voice slightly muffled.

"Kasumi—!"

"Look, Jayce, I'm not asking you too to come out kissing each other. But somehow, you too have to make things work. No one is going to believe you're madly in love with each other if you can't even hold a normal human conversation with each other. So hash it out, do whatever you need to to make up."

"Let us out, Kasumi," Jayce says firmly.

"No," Kasumi says. "It's going to fix things. I promise."

"Promises don't mean anything," Ishtar says bitterly.

"What?" Kasumi says from the other side of the door, but Jayce talks over her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's true. Promises are made to be broken, as it seems," Ishtar says, looking at Jayce as if she's supposed to get some kind of hint.

"I don't know what you want from me anymore," Jayce says, shaking her head. "Things can change, you know. People grow up. Things happen…people happen."

For a moment, she stares off into space, imagining the kind of life she should have had with Drew and how it has all been torn away from her.

But Ishtar's pale and horrified face drags her out of her daydream. "You fell in love."

"What?"

"You fell in love with someone else. That's why…you're being…oh god." Ishtar stumbles over to the bed and sinks onto the mattress, her head in her hands. "We had a promise, Jayce…don't you remember?"

"I remember," Jayce says stiffly. "But, as you said, promises are made to be broken."

Ishtar powers to her feet, whirling around and pointing an angry finger at Jayce. "No, okay? No. You're not supposed to fall in love with someone else…I just thought you had fallen out of love with me…I never thought there would be someone else in the picture…"

"Yeah…" Jayce says, for once in her life at a loss for words. "Life happens."

"God, where did I go wrong?" Ishtar says, once again sinking onto the bed. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Let's not hold a pity party, Ishtar," says Jayce, face like stone. She reaches over and puts her hands on Ishtar's shoulders. "Life doesn't stop for anyone. I'm sorry…it's just over for us."

"I volunteered for a death game for you," Ishtar says coldly, staring at the sheets.

"I know," Jayce says sadly. And she does. She knows what lengths Ishtar went to to reunite with her, no matter how misguided. And once upon a time, Jayce had been naïve like that, too. She had agreed to do the deal, promised that she and Ishtar would be together again…and here she is, breaking that promise.

As per usual.

"Sometime love just doesn't last," Jayce says, taking a few steps toward the door. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apology," Ishtar says in a low, quivering voice. She looks over her should at Jayce and continues, "I wish that stupid train plan had been burnt."

That feels like the straw that breaks the camel's back. "You wanted to ruin my chance for a better life just so I'd stay back in 12 with you? God, Ishtar, when are you going to realize that the world doesn't revolve around you? Oddly enough, the rest of us have problems, too! Maybe it's time you put yourself in someone else's shoes and realize you're not the only one in the world with problems."

Jayce isn't quite sure where the tirade came from, but it feels good to just let it out. She doesn't care that Ishtar could be dead in two days. Right now, she is so, so beyond caring. "Kasumi, let me out!"

"Doesn't sound like you've made up yet!"

"Goddamnit, Kasumi, just let me out! I can't stand to be in here for another minute."

The lock clicks and the door swings open to reveal a dejected Kasumi. "This usually works."

Ishtar shoulders past Jayce, glaring at her with wet, angry eyes. She makes it to the elevator before she pauses and says, "Jayce, no matter what you do and what you say about me, I will love you all the same."

Jayce stands there, staring at the ground, her fists clenched as Ishtar boards the elevator and soars skyward.

"If that trick is supposed to work so well, why didn't you try it with Mercy and Warren?" Dixie asks from the couch.

"Mercy punched through the window. I was not going to end up with a whole in the wall and a corpse to hide."

"What?"

Jayce springs forward and grabs the doorknob of the stairs. She takes the steps two at a time, ascending the floors in less than two minutes. She arrives at the penthouse out of breath and bursts through the door, finding Ishtar sitting alone on the couch in the dark.

"What do you want?" Ishtar says without looking at her.

"I just wanted to say…" Jayce says quietly, straightening her posture. "Maybe, just maybe, I will love you all the same as well."

Shad Marcum, 18

District 1 Male

"Ahh, it feels good to be on top." Shad stretches out further on the couch, his eyes lazily drifting over the barren ceiling.

"I wouldn't exactly say that you're on top," Calista says from her prissy perch on the ottoman. It's a ridiculous place to sit, but Calista somehow makes it seem posh with her perfect posture and tight-lipped smile.

"Highest score out of the entire bunch, Cal," Shad says, taking the effort to make his voice still nonchalant.

"Do not call me "Cal", Marcum—"

"Ah-ah, Calista, remember that we have to play nice, hm?"

Calista glares her signature daggers at Shad before continuing. "Scoria got the same score at you. You're not special."

Shad flares his nostrils. "Excuse me, bitch. I am the clear-cut Victor of these Games and I will not have anyone saying otherwise—"

"Haven't you ever noticed that the clear-cut Victor never wins?" Calista muses, draping herself across the ottoman and looking at the ceiling. "It's always some outlier with a broken arm and a score of 3, or the fifteen-year-old volunteer from District 4, or the crazy abused boy from 2…or, the "clear-cut's" district partner."

"In your dreams," Shad growls, getting to his feet and walking around the back of the couch.

"Anything can happen in the Hunger Games, Marcum. Which is why the Careers really do need to play nice."

"In case you haven't noticed, and I doubt you have, I am not the one causing problems. The issues stem from your precious lackey and his district partner."

"I'm not going to dispute that Ottilie is a problem, but what's wrong with Bayou?" Calista asks. Shad is unable to detect whether she's being sincere or not, but he guesses she's probably just being an asshole. That seems to be all Calista is.

"Oh, come on! He's deadweight, he's useless, he'll probably get knocked out in the first five minutes—"

"So could you," Calista says curtly, and with that, she sweeps off to her room, still just as prissy and perfect and posh as before.

God, she makes Shad sick. She clearly thinks she's better than Shad is, and it's all because of that stupid vote. He'll show her…he'll show her who's on top and who's the one to fall in the first five minutes…he'll show her with a spear in her back.

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Fuck. Off."

Neapolitan blocks his way. "Seriously, Shad, my job is to give you advice to keep you alive."

"I don't need your pathetic advice, thank you very much."

After all, Shad will be winning this. Maybe it won't be as perfect as he needs it to be but he's sure he'll survive somehow. He can surely survive his win being short of perfection. Surely. He doesn't need perfection to survive. Yeah. Yeah. He's just fine without and his win will be as well. Yeah.

"See, that's the problem," Neapolitan says, handing Shad a mug of steaming tea.

Shad glares at him, sets the mug over the couch, and turns it upside down.

"Thank you for proving my point," Neapolitan says, blowing on his own mug. "See, Shad, what you need to understand is that it's okay to get help."

"No it's not," Shad says immediately, crossing his arms. "I don't need help to win."

"That's what all of my older tributes said!" Neapolitan exclaims. "And guess where they ended up? A graveyard."

"I'm different," Shad asserts. "I'm better."

"Just because you say it doesn't make it true," Neapolitan says off-handedly, shrugging. He looks the other direction for a moment before he continues. "Shad, I guess my biggest question is why you think getting help is so horrible."

"Being a Career is solo job."

"It really isn't," Neapolitan says, wiping tea from his top lip with his forearm. Shad wrinkles his nose slightly and mentally discredits what Neapolitan says even further. "Why do you think the Careers make a pack every year if it's a solo path?"

"We aren't friends," Shad says. "We're barely even allies. We're basically all going solo and sitting at the same lunch table."

"Be that as it may, it doesn't stop you getting help from your mentor. After all, I am here to help you win."

"How many times am I going to have to say that I don't need your help?" Shad yells, taking the empty tea mug and hurling it at the wall. It shatters on the dining room table, but Neapolitan doesn't even flinch.

He heaves a sigh. "Shad, nobody wins the Hunger Games without help. Even loners get aid from their mentors."

"I'm different," growls Shad.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you are," Neapolitan says. Shad can tell his patience is starting wear thin; surely that means he's going to leave him the fuck alone. "What I'm trying to say it that there's nothing wrong with a getting a little help."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. That's exactly what they told us at Court," Shad says sarcastically, throwing in an eye roll for good measure.

Neapolitan scoffs. "As if anyone actually listens to what they teach there. They should teach the fighting, nothing more. The rest can be left up to the mentors. Would make my job a hell of a lot easier."

"If your job is so awful, why don't you leave me alone and go back to drinking your prissy tea in silence?" Shad snaps, starting down the hall to his bedroom.

"I hope you know that the Hunger Games are never straightforward, Shad," Neapolitan calls after him. "After all, the Games never give people what they want."

Shad stands there with his back turned and eyes wide for a moment before he says, "Yeah, whatever. Fuck off." He steps into his bedroom, slamming the door and turning on the lamp. He doesn't need Neapolitan and his stupid…stupid…stupid metaphors or analogies or oxymorons or whatever he was talking about! He's about to win this thing all by himself, and when he does, he'll take over for Neapolitan, he'll be a better mentor than Neapolitan could even imagine.

Now all he has to do is get from here to there, and he can see the finish line in the distance.

(But something tells him that the path there isn't straightforward.)

(Maybe it's his conscience.)

(He didn't know he had one of those.)

A/N: It has been a hot second since our last update. I haven't even been having writers' block or anything. I've just been sitting around my house playing Animal Crossing instead of being productive.

1. Will Jayce and Ishtar ever reconcile, or is this the end of their relationship?

2. Is Kasumi's method good, at least in theory?

3. Do you think Neapolitan is right about Shad?

4. Will Shad ever become less egotistical?

Random Question of the Chapter: what is the last movie you watched?

My answer: I just watched Big Hero 6 again today, and I completely forgot how amazing that movie actually is. Like, the last time I watched it I was like nine or ten? So my movie tastes have drastically changed since then, but it is still so good.

-Amanda