PRE-EMPTIVE DISCLAIMER: None of the 'filler tributes' are based on any particular SYOT submissions, and any similarities to tributes in other stories are coincidental. I'm writing satire, not trying to hurt feelings!

KEPLER MALLIS, DISTRICT FIVE MALE

I try to focus on the nearly inaudible whirring of the sleek train instead of the three silent figures sitting near me, but I can't help but be drawn back to them. Loren's still sniffling, eyes red and puffy from tears. Our mentors sit across from us, sharing the occasional nervous glance.

I never thought I'd be this close to Victors. Especially Romany Argent, who won just last year. She and Jacks Martin haven't said anything to us yet, and I'm not about to start the conversation. Not while Loren is still visibly upset next to me. My father drilled it into me not to step out of line around authority figures… and I suppose our mentors are the closest thing to teachers I have right now.

I run my fingers over the smooth material of my trousers, fiddling with the wrinkles around my knee. The texture keeps me grounded and focused on something. I wish I could have left the room when Loren started crying. I don't have the first clue how to comfort someone like that even in a normal situation, let alone after the Reapings. It just made me feel guiltier.

My heart thumps underneath my dress shirt, reminding me that I have to focus on my own feelings first. I suspect I'm in shock.

What does it mean that I've been Reaped? Was my father right? Is this punishment for my sin?

"So," Jacks begins, and I shake away the fear as best as I can, "this is Romany's first year as a mentor. Technically, Kepler, Romany is your mentor and Loren, I'm yours, but we're all going to work as a team this year. I want all of District Five to have as many resources as possible."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I hadn't even considered the fact that Romany hasn't mentored before, and she got out of the Games less than a year ago. Honestly, Jacks only won five years ago, so he hasn't been mentoring that long either. However, he already managed to bring someone home… I think I can trust what both of them have to say.

Jacks leaps right in to a well-rehearsed speech. "We have some little housekeeping things to go over first. Namely, the schedule and some questions. You'll have chariot rides tonight, then three days of training with private sessions on the third day, one day of interview preparation and then the interviews, and then launch is the morning after that. Four full days to prepare. It's a lot of information to process, and it doesn't feel like a lot of time, but make the most of it. Does that make sense?"

Loren and I both nod.

"Now, some questions for the two of you. You can take one token, something personal, into the arena. They need to be inspected to make sure they aren't dangerous beforehand, so you need to hand them over to me now and you'll get them back before launch. What do the two of you have?"

Loren unclasps a locket from around her neck. "It has a picture of my family inside."

"That'll definitely pass inspection, they're one of the more common tokens." Romany speaks up for the first time.

I reach into my back pocket for my little book. I don't want to hand it over but… if I have to, I guess I will.

Jacks takes it and frowns at me. "Kepler, do you know what this is?"

"A book?"

Wait. I see the problem with what I've done.

Jacks gets a grim look on his face and I shrink back into the chair. "Come with me for a moment." He stands up and hauls me to my feet, marching me into the next car of the train. He holds up my little book and points to the crucifix stamped on the cover. "This is a Bible. It's a religious artifact from before the Dark Days. This is contraband. Why would you ever hand this to me as a token?"

I stammer, trying to explain myself, but I can't find any words. It's not- I know it looks like- "Open it!" I finally manage. Jacks flips through the pages and visibly relaxes. As I watch his anger dissipate, I get up the courage to say more. "I filled the empty cover with clippings from my favorite books. See that one, there? It's a diagram of the galaxy. And that? Some of my favorite equations from calculus. Nothing… nothing more."

Jacks nods, still examining the bits and pieces of physics and sciences. "And where'd you get the cover?" I hesitate to respond. "Kepler, are you religious? If so, we need to have a serious conversation. I won't get you in trouble, I promise, but it'll change your strategy for the Capitol."

What would my dad say? What would he want me to say?

"I-I found it. I just found it… the rest was already destroyed. I didn't know it was a Bible, I just thought it was an empty book binding. I'm- I'm not… part of it. Not religious." It's almost a relief to say it out loud, even if I've just lied through my teeth. It's ironic that here, Jacks is pleased by the fact that I've filled the pages of the pocket Bible with scientific theories, whereas my father would be furious.

"Good. I can't promise the Capitol will let this through inspection, but they probably should. Back to the others, then."

In the other car, Romany has gotten Loren to laugh a bit, and my district partner is now talking animatedly about her brothers. I reclaim my seat beside her, and Jacks gives a covert nod to Romany.

I take a deep breath and relax. I feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off me. Like I have slightly less to hide.

I focus on Loren, listening to her stories about her family and friends. She's nice, and I can see by her smile that she's sincere. When she says something, she means it. I don't know very many people like that… but I would like to.

After small talk has died down, Jacks raises another question. "We have plenty of time to discuss this during the next few days, but what are your early strategies for the Games? We should start focusing on this now to keep you from getting too distracted by your grief. It can be overpowering, and I need you to try and stay in the moment. For survival."

"I want allies," Loren blurts out, and I nod in agreement. I don't think I would stand a chance on my own— this isn't an exam.

"Take notes on the others when you watch the recaps," Romany advises, "And think about what matters to you."

"Surviving. Trust that will stretch as far as possible in the Games. Diversity of skill."

"Home." Loren's sentimental answer catches me off guard. There's something that ties us together as slightly more than strangers- our district.

Would it be hasty? Yes. Could I trust this girl? I think so. Might she be faking it? Perhaps. Do I have time to overthink when I may only have four days left to live? No.

"Loren… should we be allies?" I blurt out before I even realize what I'm asking. Romany blinks at my quick choice, but she seems pleased.

She looks at me surprised, considering my offer for a moment, and then smiling in relief. "Yes!"

ALTHEA BIACHI, DISTRICT THREE FEMALE

"Althea? Althea! The recaps are over, will you come out now? There's only a little while until we're in the Capitol!"

I ignore Alume and flush the toilet to drown out her voice. It doesn't work, but she thinks it does. I can hear her sigh through the door. Good! Give up, leave me alone!

"Alume, it's fine. Besides, you're not her mentor, I am. Go sit with Neon and I'll try to help Althea." The soft voice of District Three's other victor, Newt Hillen, drifts into the bathroom. I roll my eyes. What's he going to do, give me therapy? I've had enough of that. It doesn't help. Besides, Newt may be a Victor but he's literally only a year older than me.

"Althea, we'll be ready to talk whenever you are. We're here to help," he says. I flip him off through the door.

Ugh. I hate to admit it, but Alume has a point. Once we arrive in the Capitol, I won't be able to sequester myself in the bathroom. I have to make an appearance, and I'd rather do it on my own terms than be hauled out by Peacekeepers.

Besides, I think as roll my eyes, a daughter of the Biachi family should always carry herself with pride. My job is to uphold the family reputation, blah blah blah.

Maybe I should let myself be carried kicking and screaming out of the car, just to further fuck with the precious family reputation. It would serve my parents right for coming into the Justice Building and saying goodbye to me the way they did!

I see my father's smug face in my mind, telling me that this is 'actually a good thing', and I can 'finally bring honor to the family' by competing in the Games.

And then my mother. My dear, sweet, absolutely evil mother. "And if you lose, we'll no longer have to concern ourselves with the antics you come up with to tarnish the business."

Fuck her for that. My own damn mother, telling me my death would be good for business because I could no longer do anything she doesn't approve of.

Which would be better for me? Dying and never having to see my family again, or winning and using my newfound fame to wreak more havoc on the Biachi empire than ever before? I allow myself to grin for a second, imagining my parents' dismay if I, their Victor daughter, turned on them publicly and ruined their lives for good. I'd really be in the limelight then. Maybe I'd be able to ruin my perfect sister's perfect business-plan marriage, too. I don't think her fiancé's family would approve if I told them everything that goes on behind the scenes. The shitstorms I could cause, the recognition I could gain…

But no matter what I do, I'd just be a business pawn like always. No way out of that except dying.

I feel the tears welling up in my eyes again and I blink them away. Enough crying for today. I stand up and smooth the crumples from my skirt from where I've been slumped on the floor. A glance in the mirror shows that my eyes are still red and puffy from my tears. I don't even know how long I've been on this train now. As soon as I boarded, I shut myself in the bathroom to have some privacy to cry. I don't intend on letting my mentors see me cry. Or, even worse, my baby of a district partner.

I hate it here.

I splash water on my face to try and calm my swollen eyes, thankful for my waterproof makeup. After a few minutes, I deem my face presentable and open the bathroom door. Newt is sitting on a chair a few feet away, fiddling with his watch. When I clear my throat, he jumps up.

"Althea! Are you doing all right?"

I glare at him. For someone who was theoretically 'once in my shoes', he's dense. "I'm fine."

"Do you want something to eat or drink? To talk about how you're feeling? Do you want to go over the Reaping recap?"

"I said, I'm fine." It occurs to me that, since I was able to hear Alume and Newt talking through the door, they could probably hear me crying this whole time. Best to ignore that. "I'll look at the recap."

I follow Newt through another train car to a carpeted room. Alume sits with Neon on a couch, and they're talking quietly with each other. Newt points me to a television and remote. "Since the broadcast is over, you can click through the tributes now instead of rewatching the entire program."

I plop down in a chair and start flipping through names and video clips.

A small, thin voice pipes up from across the room. "There are a couple things to note- Eight volunteers total, the six expected and then the two girls from Ten and Twelve, which is shocking. Then-"

"Did I say I wanted to talk, geek?" I snap at the fourteen-year-old Neon Tesla. Alume and Newt both stare at me in shock. "Listen, I get it. He's nerdy and smart and is probably analyzing the other tributes to death, just like every boy from Three you've ever met. I don't give a crap."

I hope they don't notice as I flip to District Ten and watch the video clip of this girl volunteering. Interesting. And the girl from Twelve… both of them have some kind of insane boldness, I suppose.

I begrudgingly admit to myself that maybe I should take a note from Neon and start to think tactically. Who knows how many tiny nerd plans he's floated to Alume by now? Not that it'll help him.

Newt sits down one chair away from me. "Alume and I took some notes in case you wanted to look through them," he offers, "so you wouldn't feel quite so on your own."

I hesitate. He's bad at comfort, but I have to say I appreciate whatever could make this easier. "I'll take them."

He gives me a sheet of paper with some hastily scribbled notes. I don't even know what I'm looking for. This wasn't exactly my plan for the day. Allies? Enemies? Threats?

I skim the notes, looking for anything that stands out. The two lower district volunteers, yeah. Then I notice something Newt has put in a column at the edge of the paper. The heading reads 'STRONGER THAN A. BIACHI- YES/NO'.

"What the hell is this?"

Newt shrugs. "Based on my first impression, if each tribute was stronger or weaker than you. Physically."

I squint at my mentor. He's a geek himself, honestly, but he really does seem to have my best interest in mind. Smart. And I'm… happy? Relieved? Proud? To see that he's ranked many of the others beneath me.

GARETH ABRELL, DISTRICT TWELVE MALE

"We're here!" Livia crows as the train begins to slow down. Mary Sue leaps up and rushes to the windows to look at the Capitol. I slowly rise from my chair and peer out the windows as well- crowds and crowds of people line the streets, cheering for the arrival of the train.

They're cheering for us. The realization hits me almost as hard as my migraine earlier, and I grip the windowsill of the train until my fingers go numb. I'm in the Capitol now.

The train lurches to a stop, and Mary Sue and I are nearly thrown to the ground. Livia somehow manages to stay standing even in her sky-high heels.

"Out! Out! Out!" she chirps, herding us towards the door. Mary Sue flounces out first, and then I duck through the exit into the bright sun of the city. The crowd screams as we appear. Mary Sue waves to them and flips her blond hair over her shoulder, and then they're all chanting her name. She has them eating out of the palm of her hand, and all she did was step off of a train.

How did she do that? I'm sure they all know that she volunteered, maybe they're reacting so strongly because of what she did for her sister?

I step to the ground and then their attention shifts to me. I try not to wince as I prepare myself for the stares, the frowns, but to my surprise I don't see any negativity in my new audience at all. Not even any confusion. A few pointing fingers, but there are thrilled smiles behind.

I tentatively wave, and the cheers erupt again. "GARETH! GARETH!" I grin and wave again, with both hands this time. With every step forward that I take, the reaction grows more and more intense. The Capitolites are really chanting for me. For me!

Livia comes up behind me and has to speak directly into my ear so I can hear her. "Wonderful first impression! Now, hurry up and keep moving, we can't have you too late to the Remake Center!" I nod and increase my pace, smiling at the crowd as I pass.

Once we enter the Tribute Remake Center, the noise of the crowd dies down outside the building. "Livia, why were they chanting like that? Do they really like us that much?"

She smiles at me. "Of course, darling! We love our tributes here in the Capitol! The next four days will be the very best we have to offer for you!"

I'm alone in a sterile, bare room before I realize what she told me. Tributes. Four days.

I'm like a sheep to the slaughter, then. Fattened up before it's taken to the chopping block.

The warm reception from the train sours in my mind as I recontextualize the Capitol's reaction to me. It was nice to be cheered for and not mocked, but they were only cheering because of the Hunger Games. None of it was really for me. Just the image of me as a sacrifice to the Games.

I sit on the too-small table and bury my face in my hands. The one time I've ever really been celebrated and it's for my probable death.

How could I have been so dumb to get sucked in by all of it?

Someone knocks on the door. "Hello, here we come!" Three people burst into the room, wearing eye-burning shades of neon colors. They carry boxes and boxes of fabric, supplies, and who knows what else.

"Gareth Abrell from District Twelve!" one of them squeals, "It's so exciting to finally meet you! We're your stylist team! We're triplets and this is like, our very first year working for the Games. It's such an honor to work with you!"

"And we have a complete makeover planned for you!" cries one of the others. I can't tell which is which, aside from the slightly different shades of orange and pink.

"You know, when we got your measurements, we were totally shocked! We thought there had been some kind of mistake! But then we saw the recap and it all made sense. Let me guess- gigantism?"

I shrug. "I don't know, I just grew this way. The doctors in Twelve just give me medicine for headaches and sore joints. If we can afford it."

All three of them nod and sigh. "You poor dear. Life in the districts must be so hard— imagine not being able to get a proper diagnosis!"

"Luckily, you have lovely bone structure. That jawline will be such an asset in the tribute parade tonight."

"You're going to cut such an imposing silhouette on the chariot tonight! Ooh, everyone will be so jealous?"

"Really?" I feel my heart rate pick up again and I start to hope again that people will genuinely like me. The idea of being cheered for again is intoxicating. Should I feel bad about that?

"Oh, absolutely! We're going to get you all cleaned up, and then your stylist will come in with your outfit for tonight! We heard he's thrilled to have such a standout natural physique to work with!"

I smile. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."

"Now, honey, put this paper gown on, lie down, and let us get to work. You've got what, fifteen years of District Twelve grime on you? It's time for that nastiness to go!"

I silently object to the description of home as grimy and nasty, but I'm in no place to speak up against it. Before I'm really aware of what's happening, one of the trio is picking out dirt from under my nails while the others smear some cream with a heavy fragrance on my face.

If I could return home to Twelve, I would do so in a heartbeat. Every time I remind myself of why I'm here, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach and I start to feel all wobbly. No matter how positive the reaction I receive, I'm only getting attention like this because I'm a tribute now. Not even a person to them, just a tribute.

Maybe even the Hunger Games have a silver lining. For the first time in my life, among the bizarre tastes of the Capitol, I feel normal. If I win, if I get to return home, I could have this feeling forever. I'd like that very much.

CAELLE LOVAGE, DISTRICT TWO FEMALE

I turn one way and then the other, watching the shimmer of the skintight fabric as the light catches the shining stones placed along my jumpsuit. "I thought District One usually called dibs on gemstones?"

"They can try to claim jewels all they want, but Two has full right to use the same amount of precious stones. This year, we wanted to explore the idea of geodes- rugged stone outside, and beauty within." My stylist smirks and adds one more pin to secure the stone-textured crown on my head, and I smile. Jumpsuits aren't normally my thing, but I'm pulling this one off fabulously.

I meet Cyrus in the hallway and a Peacekeeper leads us towards the chariots. We're matching, with almost no differences between our outfits. A true pair. Ironic, since he wasn't supposed to be here, but it'll do. His little explanation on the train ride only convinced me further that he'll be easier to get rid of when the time comes. He's soft.

"Ready to meet everyone else?" he asks, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Oh, of course! This'll be an interesting group, based on the recap broadcast."

"And all six of us so-called Careers are eighteen year old volunteers. I think that makes us the most prepared group ever."

That part worries me a little. I had been counting on District One acting like fashion models and District Four maybe being a little younger or less prepared, but everyone looks tough and strong. I know I'm more skilled than Cyrus, but how will I be able to uphold my reputation among people I don't know at all? I don't have the option to make assumptions about their skill levels, I haven't been watching them train for years.

Start strong. Fake it til I make it.

Cyrus and I enter the chariot stations with our heads held high, walking in unison towards the front of the parade lineup. The lower districts who are already here shy away from us, and we arrive smoothly at the jet-black District Two chariot.

"Caelle, we're going to look incredible out there!" Cyrus cries gleefully as he examines our well-groomed horses and elegant silver harnesses.

"You sure are," a feminine voice teases. I turn around casually, finding myself face-to-face with Shelby from Four. She's got on a metallic green leotard, and body paint in blue and purple swirls branching out over her limbs. "How are you doing, Caelle? Cyrus?" I could swear she winks.

"Doing well, feeling prepared. You?" I return her greeting coolly. She rolls her eyes and leans against our chariot.

"Fine, but my district partner is a total jerk. Can't wait for you guys to meet him." I smirk at Shelby's nonchalant attitude. She reminds me of Cyrus— not serious enough to be a total threat.

"Where is he? You didn't walk down together?"

"Oh, absolutely not. I didn't want to embarrass myself!"

Cyrus glances down the room. "Is that him? Coming in behind District One?" District One are dressed to look like a king and queen, complete with crowns. I'm not a fan.

Shelby sticks her tongue out. She's immature. What is she doing here? "Yeah, that's him all right."

The other three trained tributes circle up around my chariot, and I take note of District Three avoiding us like the plague. Good.

"Welcome, everyone! Are we all thinking the traditional alliance this year?" I jump right in to the initial discussion. No point in waiting until training tomorrow morning.

Eliana from One nods. "Our mentors told us it would be best, so Andros and I are in."

"Fine by me!" Shelby grins. We all turn expectantly to Shark.

He slowly smiles a cold, cruel grin. "I'm looking forward to killing."

I make brief, worried eye contact with Andros. Interesting. He's looking to me for cues. "That's not what I asked. Are you going to ally with us? Train with us?"

Shark nods, almost robotically. Ew. Is he trying to psych us out? Intimidate us? I can't let it work. "All right, so we have a set group for training in the morning!" I'm pleased. First impressions down- I've established myself as some kind of no-nonsense leader, and I know I have the respect of at least Cyrus and Andros. Shelby and Shark feel like wild cards for now, and I can't quite get a read on Eliana.

"What's everyone trained in? I specialize in spear and hand to hand combat," she asks, following up on my question.

Shelby shrugs. "Spear, mostly, I guess." She guesses?

"Killing."

"In terms of weaponry, I prefer using small close range blades," Andros plows right over Shark's answer like he's trying to ignore it, "but I have strength and endurance training and blunt force weaponry experiences as well."

"Melee! Mace is my preferred," Cyrus chimes in.

I take a deep breath. "My main weapon is dual swords- sais, to be specific- but I'm trained in ranged weapons as well as hand to hand combat. I also have strategic training and first aid skills and I'm one of the most prolific rock climbers in Two." Eliana, Andros, and Shelby nod, impressed. Perfect.

"Tributes! Take your places on the chariots!"

Everyone disperses as Cyrus and I climb into our chariot. "Caelle…"

"What?"

He looks quizzically at me. "Why did you say that?"

"Say what?"

"All the stuff about first aid and rock climbing? I've never seen you do any of that?"

My face burns. "Well, you must have missed it," I snap back at him, "because I'm only telling the truth."

"Okay, okay! No offense. I was just wondering."

We stand in stony silence until the chariots start moving. District One pulls out, and the doors open to the gleeful screams of the Capitol. My heart races as our chariot rolls forward, and beside me, Cyrus laughs. We emerge into view of the audience and the cheers redouble. Yes. I smile regally and look at the crowds, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible. Sponsors always like a personal connection.

Something's wrong- they've stopped looking at me. "Caelle."

"What? What's going on?" I hiss back to Cyrus.

"Look back." I glance behind me and quickly figure out why no one is paying attention to us any longer.

Shark Mason has gotten out of the chariot and is running alongside the District Four horses, pumping his fist in the air. I can't help but drop my act and stare openly. As the Capitol cheers his name over and over, forgetting about the rest of the tributes, I only have one thought. Fuck.

CALANDRA BELMONT, DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE

"I would give anything to be home right now," Redmond sighs as we clamber off our chariot and pull off our leafy headdresses.

"Me too," I murmur, thinking of Adalyna and my parents. The air in the Capitol is stuffy and hot, like I'm being pressed on all sides by people who are breathing down my neck. I feel trapped no matter where I walk. And the sky is artificially dark— I don't even know if I'm looking up at a starless night or a black ceiling.

Our mentor Fallon greets us as we move towards the exit amidst the flood of other tributes. I try to stick to one side as the older tributes rush past. The boy from Two and the girl from Four are jovial, joking loudly with each other. Their humor only serves to keep the rest of us quiet, scared. How can they be having fun at a time like this?

"Well done," Fallon says, herding Redmond and I away from the rush, "we'll wait here until most of the others have left and the elevators are freed up. I think you two have had a long enough day and I don't want you worried about making friends or enemies on the way home."

"Thank you," I say. My voice is shaking, and I don't know why. I don't feel like I've used it a lot today, except to cry and say goodbye to everyone. That feels like years ago, like I've become a different person since then. The memory of my parents feels distant. The memory of waking up in the orchard this morning feels like a different lifetime.

Fallon tries to keep us occupied, but I can tell he feels more like a babysitter than a mentor. Redmond and I haven't been able to get much done today. We spent most of the train ride crying in turns, and Fallon was barely able to keep us together for the recap. Then, in the Remake Center, the stylists were so fed up with every little thing that I couldn't focus on anything besides their displeasure. They kept reiterating that they weren't mad at me, but it felt like it. Their anger felt heavy on my shoulders.

"How do you think it went?" Fallon prompts.

"It was… a lot." Redmond, normally talkative from how I remember him, doesn't have much to say.

I nod in agreement. "It was so overwhelming. Was that everyone in the Capitol watching? It felt like everyone. I don't think I've ever seen that many people in one place at the same time."

Fallon laughs. "Definitely not everyone. But, as they say, 'everyone who is anyone' was here. All the sponsors, important politicians and celebrities, rich Capitolites, and Games enthusiasts. They seemed thrilled, didn't they?"

Redmond perks up a little bit. "And the boy from Four jumping out of the chariot! And running beside the horses!"

I nod ferociously. "What was he doing? That was crazy!"

"Calm down, calm down, you two! I don't want you to focus on other people like that. It won't be any good for you. Focus on yourselves, don't compare to others. How do you think it went for you?"

I consider our mentor's question for a moment before answering. "I was really scared, but at the same time… it was kind of exciting. And I tried to wave and smile to make a good impression, like you told us to do. So I don't think it could have gone much better?"

"I heard people shouting our names!"

I grin at Redmond's excitement. It was shocking and thrilling to hear the Capitol chanting for me. For us. I never would have expected that to ever happen, and yet it did. They were interested in me, at least. I hope that means they would be happy to see me come home, because I want nothing else. I want to return and be safe and see my family and Adalyna and her family again.

I want to say I'll do whatever it takes to achieve that, but I'm not sure if I can. I turn to Fallon, adrenaline melting into fear. "Did we do all right?"

"Absolutely. You had a really positive reaction, and that can be hard when we come so close to the end of the parade. While you two are in training tomorrow, I'll start meeting with potential sponsors. I'm optimistic that people will have a lot of interest in the two of you. Ready to head up to your home for the next few days?"

I have a sneaking suspicion that Fallon is being nicer than strictly true. Against my better sense, I've noticed how Redmond and I stack up to many of the others. At fifteen and thirteen, we're some of the younger tributes, and while we were both instructed to act pleasant and friendly on the chariots, neither of us have the physical strength to hold our own later on…

I exhale slowly as the elevator rises, trying to breathe out those thoughts. Fallon is doing his best for us, and part of that is boosting morale, no doubt. I'm glad that he's being kind instead of harsh, because I don't think I would feel safe with a mentor who told me I was likely to die all the time.

The door beeps and slides open, revealing an ornately decorated living space. "Calandra, your room is there, and Redmond, yours is on the other side. You can have the rest of the night to yourselves."

I'm struck by the luxury of the room. There's a vast kitchen and a space with couches, chairs, and a huge television. There's a basket of fruit on the table- all varieties I recognize from home.

Home. I rush towards the comforting food and almost burst into tears at the familiar smell of it. One drop of authentic District Eleven among the constructed reality of the Capitol.

"Calandra?" Redmond quietly asks.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to go right to sleep?"

"I'm tired, but I don't think I'm ready to lie down yet." Once I retreat to my room, which I'm sure is no less fancy than the common space, I'll be alone with my thoughts and the reality of the Games. I'm not ready for that yet.

"Me neither." It remains unspoken, but neither of us want to be alone right now. I recognize Redmond's anxiety as my own.

"Is there any tea? Mint tea?" I ask Fallon, who directs me to the Avox in the kitchen. "Oh. I can make it myself if you show me where everything is."

The Avox shakes his head and starts to prepare some tea for me. A wave of guilt hits me- he doesn't need to, I can do it- but I can't overstep the Capitol's boundaries. The feeling of being monitored prickles at the back of my neck.

"How are you feeling?" I ask Redmond instead, trying to distract myself by focusing elsewhere.

He shrugs. "I wish I wasn't here, what else is new?" I force a smile. "I was trying to keep an eye on some other tributes, though. I'm curious to find allies, but I don't want to only consider other younger tributes just because I'm young."

"Who's at the top of your list right now?" Should I have been looking for allies? Were all the other tributes doing the same? Who might have been watching me?

"Well, the two from Five look nice enough, the girl from Seven is definitely strong. Maybe the girl from Eight? The boys from Nine and Twelve?"

"That's a really big group, Redmond."

He shrugs. "I don't want to ally with all of them. Besides, they aren't my first choice. That's you."

Me? Me!

"You're the only person I actually know here. We know each other from home. I know how you are in Eleven, so I know you aren't lying about it. I want honest allies."

"Are you asking me to ally with you? District Eleven sticks together?"

Redmond nods nervously. "What do you think?"

What do I think? I'm glad that Redmond isn't a stranger. We know each other. He's only thirteen, but he doesn't act like a baby. Who could I possibly trust more than my district partner? "I'm in."

It's a standard of mine to have at least one person jump or fall out of the chariots in every SYOT I've written. Just a little signature move!

Next up is training! You'll finally get to meet the rest of the fillers- some of them were introduced or teased here, but there's a lot more time to get to know everyone in the three days of training, of course.

Are there any alliances you're hoping to see happen?

If you were in the Hunger Games, what district would you be from?

Drop a review and let me know! Y'all are fantastic, I really appreciate the feedback!