[10] - Rochelle

The District Eight common room is silent. I'm alone apart from two Avoxes, one at each end of the room, but it's easy to forget that they're there. I glance at the massive clock on the wall; it's nine o'clock. August should be here any minute.

Right on cue, the elevator doors at the far end of the room slowly open, and August steps out. His curly hair is still damp - he must have just showered.

"Good job in training today," August says as he sits at the table across from me. "I don't think I said that earlier. You did great."

"Thanks," I sigh, trying to hide my smile. I definitely didn't do a good job, I was awful. I think August might be trying to convince himself that I did a good job, and he can do that all he wants.

"I was almost late getting down here," August admits. I raise my eyebrows, prompting him to continue. "It's Princess. I love her like my own sister. But she won't leave me alone."

I just nod. I'm sure Princess wouldn't be happy to know that August only thinks of her as a sister. Maybe I should save that information for later.

"Ever since we got here, she's just gotten so... clingy," August continues. "I mean, at home, she had her parents, at least. They've always treated her like an actual princess; she always gets what she wants, no matter what. Her father had the power and influence to make sure that happened."

"Including being here, I assume," I add, and August nods.

"She saw the kids from District One making it far in the Games every year but falling short. She wanted to be the one to finally win. Obviously, Decimus won the Games last year, but that doesn't mean she doesn't still want to win. She wants to make it the first back-to-back win since the rebellion."

"That's a valiant goal," I say. Princess is an idiot.

"Without her parents here, Princess is acting like I'm her caretaker now," August scowls. "And I'm not. I'm here to win, too. And she assumes that I'm not, because how could I possibly want to get in the way of her plans to win? I'm sick of it."

It's obvious to me that Princess doesn't just see August as her caretaker. She's practically obsessed with him. Clearly, August only sees her actions and not the thoughts behind them.

"What about your parents?" I ask, changing the subject. "Surely they feel a similar way. Wanting you to win."

"They want me to win more than anything," August sighs. "My father was supposed to be a tribute in the 76th Hunger Games before they were canceled."

"So he wants you to win for him," I finish his story for him. "He wants you to do what he couldn't."

"Basically," August says. "But that sounds like I'm being forced to be here, like I don't want to win. I do, that's why I'm here. But my father's the one who I'm doing it all for."

"That must be hard for you," I say slowly. I hope August doesn't pick up that I'm sucking up to him. "To not really have a say in what you want to do. Just because your father didn't get to be in the Games, now you have to live out his dreams for him."

August's face hardens, and I feel like I've made a wrong step. "I told you, I want to be here," he says defensively. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have volunteered."

"Of course," I concede. "I'm sorry if I misspoke."

"It's fine," August sighs. "I'm used to it. But what about your parents? How do you think they're doing with you being here?"

I'm surprised by August's question - he hasn't really asked me anything about myself since we met.

"I'm an orphan," I confess. "I thought you knew that, having studied all the tributes and all."

August's eyes widen. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, August," I chuckle. "You're going to have to do worse than that to offend me."

August's face is still red. "You know we don't have any information about people's personal lives," he grumbles. "The files they have to look at are only measurable things. Height, weight, age, name."

I'm glad August's been studying the other tributes; if he knows everyone else's strengths and weaknesses, I can leave all the strategizing to him as I work behind the scenes.

"I'm just messing around," I reassure him. "My parents were killed in a Peacekeer raid right after I was born. They were in the slums. Supposedly, the Peacekeepers got a tip that there was a black market in the slums, but all of us knew that there wasn't a real reason. There was a market, sure, and most of the goods were illegal, but the Peacekeepers knew about it. Some of them even bought stuff occasionally. They just wanted to see what illegal things they could find. Both my parents tried to protect our belongings - they were already poor enough as it is, they couldn't afford to lose anything else - and they died for it. So I was sent to the orphanage."

August's mouth is hanging wide open. I can tell that my story is working wonders on him; he looks mortified.

"I'm so sorry, Rochelle," he says after a moment. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. You're a lot stronger than I could ever be."

"Well, it was when I was a baby," I sigh. "I've just been working my way in the textile factories since then. Until now, at least."

August looks horrified at the thought of working in a factory as an orphan, and I'm glad. The more he pities me and the more he sees me as a person, the harder he'll fight to keep me alive.

"You didn't come all the way up here to talk about our families," I remind August. "We need to talk strategy. Time's running out."

"Right," August agrees. "Tomorrow's the last day of training, and then our Individual Assessments will be in the afternoon. Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

I just shrug. "I don't have any particularly impressive talents to show. Maybe I could weave a basket or something."

"What does your mentor think?" August asks hopefully. "What's her name again?"

"Ramona," I remind him. "She's absolutely useless. I can barely get a word out of her."

"Well, maybe you can show off your survival skills," August says, deep in thought. "If you can't show off your abilities to fight, you should show off your abilities to stay alive."

"You mean just stand there?" I laugh. "Hey, look, I'm alive."

"No, I mean you have to do some studying tomorrow. Study plants, animals, environments, all that stuff. Learn as much as you can and show the Gamemakers what you know."

"I can try that," I concede. "I'm not the best reader."

"I can help," August offers.

"Great. But what about the Arena?" I press. "Do you feel good about the others?"

I can tell that August understands my actual question: Do you feel good about Pollux? "He'll come to his senses," August says quietly. "But stay away from him when you're in the Arena. As much as you can, at least. I have a feeling that someone will eventually try to kill you to get me, and odds are that it'll be him."

That's just great - who knew that being paired with one of the strongest tributes would actually make me more of a target in the Arena. Maybe Diego was the one who lucked out and not me.

"And Zinnia?" I continue. "She's fine?"

"Zinnia's given me no reason to worry," August reassures me. "She's not as... cutthroat as Pollux. There's not really as much at stake for her."

"I think there's a lot at stake for all of us," I tell him. "Like our lives."

"Obviously," August sighs. "But she's not like the rest of us. Her situation with her parents isn't like the rest of us. I've heard she was kicked out of school for delinquent behavior and her only option was to join the Peacekeeping Academy over in District Two. So she did, and she rose to the top of her class. Decided that being in the Games was worth her time, so here she is."

"So she's not under as much pressure to win," I finish. "Which is why she's not as crazy as Pollux."

"She's definitely crazy," August says. "I mean, you heard about the deal she made with Jasper. She's not an angel. But she's less likely to do anything crazy in the Arena. She's not a loose cannon; I can tell she has a secure head on her shoulders."

I just nod, but I think August's just said something profound. In the Games, the most dangerous weapon is a sound head on your shoulders. A reasonable and logical person can be victorious in nearly every battle when faced with a raving lunatic. That means that my true threat isn't necessarily Pollux; Zinnia's not a threat now, but that doesn't mean that she won't be later.

"I feel good about the Arena," August says again. "We just need to remember not to trust anyone except each other. We're all we've got."

As if I needed to be reminded of that. The only person I trust right now is myself, and that's the only person I can rely on to make it out of here alive.