[6] - August

The elevator doors slide open, allowing Princess and I to step inside. It's a short ride to the training room - we are on the first floor, after all.

Most of the other tributes are already here; training starts in a few minutes. Pollux and Zinnia are already standing around a pedestal, waiting for Princess and me. The rest of the tributes stand awkwardly behind them. Ignoring the others, I move to stand next to Pollux. He offers me a nod.

The tributes around me go quiet as a small, balding man approaches the pedestal. He gives our group a look-over before beginning his speech.

"Welcome, tributes, to the Training Center," he says. "My name is Petrus, and I will be serving you as your Head Trainer in this year's Games."

I give Petrus a close look; nothing about him seems to be physically impressive. I wonder how he managed to get this job.

"To begin, I understand that many of you are confused regarding how exactly this year's Games will proceed," Petrus remarks. "This year, the Gamemakers will be implementing a special type of tracker chip that will be inserted into your arms. These trackers are designed to release poison into the bloodstream of a tribute if their partner is killed. Thus, any tribute whose partner dies in the Games will immediately be killed as well."

Petrus' words are my worst nightmare come true. My throat feels like it's closing in on itself, and I can barely breathe. I glance behind Petrus and see the last person I wanted to see. That girl from Eight. The reason I'm going to die.

I shoot the girl a glare with as much venom as I can manage. She quickly looks away, startled at my reaction.

I think Princess can sense my discomfort, because she lays a hand on my shoulder as Petrus dives into the ground rules of training. Princess and I already memorized them all - no hitting, no killing, the whole lot - so we don't have to pay attention.

"Don't think about her, August," Princess says, shooting the girl a similar glare. "Come spar with me and let's just forget about her."

I nod in agreement as Petrus wraps up his speech. I follow Princess to a rack with swords; I don't need to look back to see that Pollux and Zinnia are following close behind us.

"You'll have to deal with her eventually, August," Princess says, attempting to hit my exposed neck with her fake sword. I quickly bring my own blade up, blocking her attack.

"Not now," I grumble. Right now, all I want to do is curl up into a ball and take the train home. What's my father thinking right now? He's waited so many years for this moment, just for me to be screwed over by a twist out of my control.

"You don't have to stick with her," Princess says, as if that wasn't obvious. Like I'm actually considering sticking with such a weak tribute in the Arena. "Just make a deal with her that she can hide or something."

"Easy for you to say," I scoff, blocking another of Princess' attacks. "At least your partner's not an idiot."

Princess purses her lips; she's paired with the boy from Four, and it's been hard for her to hide her relief. The fact that she got a competent partner just grates at me even more.

I think my comments distract Princess for a moment, because she leaves her chest exposed for a moment too long. She lets out a sigh as I thrust my fake blade through her defenses.

"Just don't give up, August," she says, lowering her sword. "We're in this together, remember that."

Yeah, right. We'll see how long I'll survive in that Arena. "I have to use the bathroom," I tell her, dropping my sword to the ground. "Go spar with your partner while I'm gone."

I catch Princess' gaze as I turn to walk away, and she looks hurt. Part of me feels like she deserves it - she wouldn't understand how much it hurts to have your life's work thrown away in an instant. She hasn't worked half as hard to get here as I have.

I pass by the other tributes on the way to the bathrooms. Some of them stop what they're doing to watch me walk by. One group ignores me entirely, though: I see my partner sitting with her District partner in the corner of the room. They're joined by the girl from Twelve, who's learning how to build a fire. The other two tributes have their backs to me, but my partner doesn't look up as I pass her.

Thankfully, the bathrooms are empty. I sigh as I sit down in one of the empty stalls. What am I going to do?

I feel like the walls of this tiny stall are closing in on me. Like the world is about to swallow me whole, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. In less than a week, I will enter the Arena, and I will die.

There's no way that girl from Eight will get anywhere in the Games. The last time someone from Eight even got near winning the Games was years ago. My partner is so unremarkable that I don't even remember her name from the Reapings. I should know her name - Decimus wants me to study my competition in detail to prepare for the Arena - but I can't bring myself to do it. Why should I prepare for the Arena if there's no chance of me surviving it?

Princess is going to get suspicious if I'm in here any longer. I groan, slowly standing from my secluded throne. It's time to get back to training.

The door squeaks as it swings open, and I'm met with the last face I wanted to see.

"Shit," I hiss, slamming the door shut again.

"August," a voice calls from behind the door. It's the girl from Eight. "August, we need to talk."

I run my fingers through my hair. I can't face her right now, I can't. I hate her. I hate that she's ruining my life, and there's nothing I can do to save myself.

"No, we don't," I call back through the door, backing away from it.

The door swings open, and the girl props it open with her foot.

"You can't come in here," I warn her, holding my hand up. "I'll call Petrus."

"I'm not entering the room," the girl says, crossing her arms. "But we need to talk."

"Well, you clearly have something to say," I bite at her. "Get it over with and get out of here."

"You need me to survive, August," the girl says, her eyes narrowing. "There's no escaping it. We are linked through life and death. Now, you might think I'm nothing, and you might think I'm weak, but none of that matters now. Either you help me, or we both die."

My mind is spinning. I can barely breathe; all I want to do is get out of here. "I don't owe you shit," I spit. "Now get away from me!"

"You can make choices for yourself, August," the girl says coolly, her eyes staring straight through me. "But your life is on the line here. Your life is not in my hands, August. It's in yours. Make the right decision."

"You're right," I call back. "I can make my own decisions. Goodbye."

I finally muster up the courage to leave, brushing past the girl and practically running back to the Training Center.

"You need me to survive, August..."

"Either you help me, or we both die."