Apollo Dallier

We don't spend long on the train before reaching the Capitol. Sparkle and I meet with our mentor, January DuVall, and we each get a private meeting with her to discuss our strategies. I'm up first, and I follow her into a small room off to the side of the lobby which we first entered.

"So," she says, sitting me down. "What's your plan?"

I eye her carefully. "How do I know you won't turn around and tell Sparkle what I'm planning?"

She laughs. "Apollo, she's your ally. Her, District 2, and District 4. That's how it almost always folds out. And even if she was against you, she's fourteen; you're twice her size. You've got nothing to worry about."

I shrug. "Never hurts to be too cautious."

"So that's your strategy?" January asks, leaning forward. "Measure twice, cut once, better safe than sorry? I can work with that."

"My strategy is whatever you think will carry me to the end," I reply, the words smooth and sure.

She smiles. "Charismatic," she says. "And smart enough to change plans if you need to. You've got a real chance, you know."

"Wouldn't have volunteered otherwise," I say.

"True." She stands up and heads for the door. "I need to talk to Sparkle about her strategy. I suspect it will be somewhat harder than yours to work out. Interviews are tomorrow, but I don't think my coaching will help you with that. Just be yourself."

I nod and leave the room as she holds the door open for me. Sparkle sees January beckon and heads in herself, and I take stock of the lobby. It's filled up a bit since I left for my meeting, and I see the other Careers talking near the window.

"Hey," I say, sidling up to them. And we start to discuss our strategies.

The next evening is the interviews. I've been dressed in a crimson suit and matching tie, and I step up on stage to talk to Caesar Flickerman. He smiles brilliantly as I sit down, shining white teeth matching his alabaster-dyed hair and eyebrows.

"Well hello there," he says to raucous applause. "Is this our very own Greek god here to greet us tonight? Everyone, please welcome to the stage Apollo Dallier!"

I nod politely, trying not to blush. It wouldn't be comely of me. "Pleased to be here, Caesar," I say.

We talk for a bit, some of my plans for the arena, some of my personality, and some of my life back home. "So," he says as the interview comes to a close, "You got a girl back home who's waiting for you?"

"No," I say, "No girl."

"Ooooh," Caesar says, grinning. "He's single, ladies!" I nod and smile at the crowd.

I do have a girlfriend, but the pretty Capitol girls who will send me money don't need to know that. And then my time with Caesar is up.

We aren't allowed to watch the other tributes' interviews, not even our district partner's—something about strategy being spoiled—so I head back to my room in the Training Center accompanied by a few Avoxes.

Morning comes around, and we get the full day to train before we show the judges what we can do. I spend most of it talking to Sparkle, Rustle, and Lemrey. We talk to Catullus and Cressida, too, but less; they are most definitely in our alliance, and they'll be valuable resources, but for now they seem much more interested in each other.

The conversation dies down near lunchtime, and we still have several hours before we're sent back to our rooms, so I head for the swords section. I know I'm good with spears from my training back in District 2, but I'd like to get in some more melee practice before the Games begin.

After dinner I am called back to the Training Center to perform for the judges. I hoist up a spear onto my shoulder and start sprinting for the wall. I take one last solid step on the ground before I place a foot on the wall, using the momentum to spring upwards and into an airborne somersault. Midair, I launch my spear at the dummies across the room, and land the roll on the balls of my feet.

I'm facing the judges when I land, not the dummies, and their expressions give nothing away. Almost not daring to look, I turn—and let out a sigh of relief. I've speared one directly through the heart.

I won't get the score back until much later tonight, but I can hardly go wrong with that.

Sparkle Melchor

Off the train, I wait for January to finish up with Apollo. In the meantime, I talk to the other Careers. Catullus is… well, he's hot. I'm not going to beat around the bush; I wish he wasn't dating Cressida. It's pointless, anyway—one or both of them is gonna die in a couple days, so why stay true? But he didn't like it when I pointed that out, so I drop the subject. We'll have plenty of time together in the next several days for me to bring it up again. Maybe even after Cressida's dead, if I'm lucky.

And then January calls me into the mentoring room. "Hello," she greets me, and I nod in return. I sit down across from her and begin to talk about my strategy.

She thinks I should rely mostly on the other Careers to do the killing while I sit back and keep up my strength. She says it's because of my age and stature. Well, I think she's wrong. I don't tell her this—I want her to like me and to get me sponsors—but I know I'm going to kill in the arena. Probably a lot, if I'm lucky.

I'm dressed in matching colors to Apollo for the interview. Crimson has always been a good color on me, but paired with a matching bow in my hair and bright red lipstick? I look fantastic.

Caesar asks me some questions, his typical vapid shit that the audience eats up. I hardly pay attention to it, to be perfectly honest. I'm more concerned about the end of training and the judging the next day, but I get through my interview with ease. If only the rest of the Games would be that simple!

I make some really good snares for the judges. They eat it up. Well, they also literally eat up their dinners, but I could tell they liked my work. No poor outer-districter would be able to escape my ropes, I'm sure of that.

I anticipate a high score as I return to the District 1 room to wait.

Catullus March

Our mentor is named Cole. It's such a normal name for the Capitol, and he seems like a normal guy, too. He asks me what I'm good at, and I tell him: archery. He tells me bows and arrows should be readily available in the arena, but to get some knife skills in training just in case.

I nod, and find Cressida once we're both done with our meetings. She gives me a big hug and holds me close. I rest my head on her shoulders. "Babe," I say finally. "This is it, you know."

"I know," she replies. "But you're going home, my love."

"That means you'll die," I say, pulling back and looking her straight in the eyes. "Surely you don't expect me to allow that."

"You will," she says back. "You will, because I would rather kill myself than see you dead. And I will, if I have to."

"Cressida…" I reply, my voice trailing off. "Please. Don't say that."

"What, would you rather I watch you die and then get speared through the throat and get killed without your protection? It's purely pragmatic. You have the better shot, so I must die."

I talk about her in my interview with Caesar. I talk about her so much I worry she won't have anything to say in hers. But I have to. I have to share with the world who she is. If she's so determined to die, I will not let it be in vain.

And that also means I have to go home. I show the judges my skill with the arrows, just like Cole suggested. We don't really need sponsors as Careers, but it would be foolish to forgo them entirely.

I go back to the District 2 common room and sit by her side as we wait for the results. We'll never have a moment like this again. We'll be fighting alongside each other in the arena, but it won't be like this, soft and warm and well fed.

This is the end of everything.

Cressida Dian

Cole tells me two things. One, that he's pleased with my intelligence, and to utilize that, but also to not let on too much. And two, that he's made sure the Career alliance will survive another year. He talked to the other mentors and it's all set up. Good. All the better to protect Catullus with.

He talks about me in his interview. We aren't allowed to watch each other's, but Caesar tells me once I get up there. I think it threw him for a loop a bit—he didn't have much to ask me that Catullus hadn't already said. So I talk about him in turn. I describe his family, how he's a good guy who is going to win the whole Games for me, and how he gives spare bread to people on the streets back in 2.

I almost tear up right there and then talking about it. I'm going to miss him when I'm dead.

I purposely go for something low-stakes at the judging. I do the obstacle course, and although I nail it, I know my score won't be impressive. Not for a Career. I need to nail it into Catullus' head that he is the one going home, not me.

We curl up together on the couch as we wait for our training scores to be released, and Catullus is looking at me the whole time. He thinks I don't notice him staring, but I do. He looks like he's trying to memorize it, to burn every detail into his bright blue eyes.

I'd do the same if it wasn't pointless.

Reed Volt

I am not ready for the Capitol. After the poverty of home, the gleaming fakeness of the city seems blinding, and I hate every second of it. Part of me wishes Fabian was here with me, just to see it and maybe get the same inspiration of hatred I have, but every other fiber of my being is so glad he's not. I'd rather have him alive than on my side.

My mentor Issa doesn't have much to offer, just to play up my archery skills to the judges in hopes of getting a good score. I guess it's solid enough advice, and I make a mental note of it.

Aycee and I didn't get along the entire train ride, so I ignore her after talking to Issa. Instead I talk to some of the others, like Mars and Clay. We don't talk about strategy nor the Games. No, we talk as if we're old friends who aren't about to see the whole group die.

They're friendly people. I don't know how I could kill them. Hopefully I won't have to.

Caesar's interview is shorter than it always seemed on television. All I had time for was to talk about my family a bit—Fabian mostly—and a brief shout out to the good people of District 3.

And then I was being ushered off stage, never to see a crowd like that again. Well, not unless I win. Which still seems unlikely.

I think I do a fine job in front of the judges, with my arrows hitting true and small targets. I can only hope they agree.

Aycee Nannor

I'm still convinced I'm going to die when I get off the train. Issa does her best to comfort me, but what can she really say? Nothing, that's what. Nothing useful.

I try to talk to Reed after we're both done with Issa, but he brushes me off. He has no interest in talking to me at all. I wander around the room, but everyone else is either engaged in conversation or has zero intent of doing so at all. Nobody will want to ally with me, all unskilled and uncharismatic.

I regret volunteering for the thirtieth time in just a few days.

At least my outfit for the interview with Caesar is beautiful. They put me in all black with a stripe of electric yellow down the middle, and it's stunning. They even did my hair all pretty, braiding it intricately. I'm so dolled up I almost don't care when I don't have a response for Caesar's query about what my tactics will be.

I don't have any skills, and it really hits me hard in front of the judges. I try to throw a knife, but it clatters to the floor having missed its target. At that point I break down, curling up on the floor and crying. It's already hit me a million times that I'm going to die, but it's just too embarrassing to have to show the judges that.

As if it's not more embarrassing to cry in front of them. My only consolation is that the mortification will be gone when I'm dead tomorrow.

Rustle Hawkmeer

The train pulls into the station. I catch my first good look at the Capitol, and it is stunning. I almost forget I'm going to die here—almost. Brine saw this once too and probably thought the same thing. It's comforting to share something like this with my brother, even if we're separated by time.

Our mentor is this old guy named Gerald. His beard is white and bushy, and for a Capitol member he looks pretty normal. His advice, though, is not. "Try to hide," he says. "Hide away for the whole Games. I'll make sure you get food." I think he's senile. I'm in the Career group. I'm going to fight, and hunt. I won't need him to waste our sponsor money on food. We'll be taking it from lesser tributes.

So knowing I could safely discard all of his advice, I move on to the interview. Caesar says his usual schtick, and I go with the legacy angle. If Brine won, so can I, and I make that very clear. I intend to win these games by any means necessary.

And then I'm off to the judges, to show them what I can do. I dance with the knife, cutting right where I know I need to for a kill. I'm brilliant at it. I'll kill so many people in the arena, and I know the judges will be able to see that, too. I'm ready for their score, and I'm ready for the Games.

Lemrey Cuttle

Gerald gives me the same useless advice he gives Rustle. Seriously, I'm not sure that man knows we're Careers. What he does say, though, is that I'm good with a trident and that it's a good skill to have. Thanks, old man. Not like that I've known that since I was six or anything.

The stylists dress me in the most beautiful sea-green gown for my interview with Caesar. It's slinky where it matters and frilly where it doesn't—in other words, perfect. I flounce around with it backstage until he calls me up. Then we talk about family and why I volunteered.

The audience loves me. Of course they do. They love their future winner, and I will give it to them.

I don't disappoint in the judging, either. Taking Gerald's useless advice, I use the trident and stab as many dummies as I can, in the face, side, chest—anywhere I can reach. I know I look formidable.

Mars Clayme

I get off the train to the Capitol, and am summoned to meet my mentor. Her name is Brie, and she's very pretty. She's got auburn hair, just a bit darker than my own, and her porcelain skin is smooth and unblemished.

"Hey," I say. "Were you in one of the Games? I'm sure you got all the sponsors, looking like that."

Brie is unperturbed. "No," she says. "I wasn't." Then she starts talking about strategy, and I lose focus. I need to show the Capitol that they suck, and that I am better than them and their Games. Brie can't help me with that, even if she is pretty. She's not a winner, she's just another gear in the Capitol machine. It's disappointing, really.

The interview is short and sweet. I make no secret of my hatred for the Capitol, but Caesar manages to skirt around it and play it off. The man is too good at his job.

At the judging I mess up, big time. I only try to juggle my knives, but end up cutting my hand open. Brie patches me up before taking me back to the District 5 room, but somehow I doubt they'll be impressed by me. Oh well. Screw 'em, anyway.

Persephone Quinn

Brie seems competent enough. She tells me to use my strengths and not worry too much about my weaknesses in the Training Center. It's good advice, I think. If I can make my strengths even better, then it won't matter if I can't use a bow or whatever.

The stylists put me in a chiffon dress, red and covered in sequins. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn. They even let me keep Ophelia's pearl necklace on, and I show it off proudly to the audience. I'm sure she's watching on from home and loving the way it looks on me. I know I would, were our positions switched.

I'm good at traps and stuff, and that's what I show to the judges. I think they liked it, but it's hard to tell beneath their stoney exteriors. I'll know soon enough, though.

Cemeron Locksbee

I miss Amelia so much. My… wife, I guess. Kevan, my mentor, tells me I'll have to push her from my mind if I want to return to her, but the thought hurts too much to entertain.

I can't look at Vallora. At all. She reminds me too much of Amelia. It's not just their looks, although they could be twins. (I guess they aren't too far off being sisters anyway.) It's in her voice, her walk, even the way she holds a fork. It all is Amelia, every atom of her.

And when my interview comes up, I make sure everyone at home knows she's rooting for me. At least, I hope she is. She could be rooting for Vallora, even though it didn't seem like it earlier.

When it comes time to show the judges what I can do, I spear a dummy through the eye from ten paces back. That's gotta be impressive. At least a little bit. Right?

In any case, I head back to the District 6 room and sink into one of their plush chairs. I cuddle a pillow and pretend it's Amelia.

It's better than nothing.

Vallora Share

Kevan starts off by telling me he hopes I'm good with knives. I ask why before reassuring him that I am indeed. "Because," he says, "you look like someone who I'd be afraid of. Knives are the deadliest weapon in the arena in the hands of someone skilled with them."

This was news to me. "Surely a sword would be just as deadly," I reply.

"Sure," he says. "Swords have a lot of power in their swing. But knives have two advantages over them. First, they're easier to maneuver. You can get in nice and close with a knife, but you have to back up to wield a sword. And second, knives are more common in an arena. There might be only one or two swords, but there'll be plenty of knives."

"Okay," I say, and commit his words to memory. I will use knives. Anything to get back to Amelia.

I have to see Cemeron whenever we aren't training. I don't hate him for who he is, but rather what he represents. The sister that cares more about him than me. I want to kill him here and now, even though I know it isn't allowed.

I almost feel bad for him. It isn't his fault we both got reaped. It is his fault he brainwashed my sister into liking him, though.

They don't let me put my gear in the pocket of my dress for Caesar. Apparently the outlines would be visible and it would be unseemly. Yeah, right. I think the whole Games are unseemly, but I keep this to myself. I want to have a shot, not get sniped by mutts within two seconds.

The judging arrives. I slash dummies to bits, almost as if it were a sword and not a knife I'm wielding. Kevan was right—a knife is just as good in the right hands.

I'll get a great score. With skills like mine, how could I not?

Charlie Kane

Petyr, my mentor, takes one look at me and starts taking notes. "What?" I ask. "Did I do something wrong already?"

"Hardly," he replies. "I think you have potential, actually. I want to give you the best shot possible."

"Oh," I reply.

He finishes scribbling down things and hands the notebook to me. "Study this," he says.

I look at it. It's covered in tips, from how to make snares to edible plants to anatomy diagrams. "Thanks," I say, "but can't I get this in the Training Center?"

"You can," he replies, "but you can only spend so long there. Focus on physical skills when there, then study this after."

"Should I share this with Aspen?"

"If you want. But she's no ally to you. I wouldn't trust her, personally. She seems nice, but I want you to actually win. Trust nobody."

I take the advice to heart. I don't share the notes.

I'm put in a navy suit for the interview. Caesar asks me about home, and I talk about Lyla. I miss her so much already. I can only imagine how it is for her, missing me and knowing I have almost no chance. I guess Petyr has helped those odds slightly, but chances are still good that I'm coming home in a wooden box. At least I know Lyla is safe at home.

Petyr warned me that I would need to impress at the judging to get sponsors, so I do my best. I'm good enough with knives, so I go for the vitals. I slash through the jugular of some poor dummy and kick another backwards before embedding my knife into its heart. My placement is precise, and I know the wounds would have been fatal immediately.

I've done my best, which of course is all I can do. All that's left is to wait for the scores.

Aspen Windsnap

I don't know what to say for my interview, and I express this to Petyr as soon as I meet him. I have every right to be worried—it's my last chance to impress the populace before I'm thrown into the fire. He smiles and sits me down, and we begin to discuss matters.

He's a smart guy, and I can tell he knows what he's talking about. He assures me that no matter what happens with Caesar, he'll be able to get me sponsors. I don't know how he can promise that, but I believe him.

I try to talk to Charlie, but his responses are vapid and unrevealing. I get the sense that while he's amicable, he doesn't really want to ally with me. That's fine. He'll likely change his mind in the arena when he realizes nobody else is going to want to help him. I'll still be around. I'm loyal to my district. Unless he tries to kill me or something, but that would change a lot.

With Petyr's guidance, I ace the interview. I come across just how I want to—smart and capable, but not overwhelmingly so. The audience seems to love it, too, and they applaud me for a long time. I grin at the response. They love me. If Petyr wouldn't have sponsor issues before, he certainly won't have them now.

I throw axes for the judges. I decapitate a dummy from across the whole room. And then I miss a second throw, but hey, win some, lose some. I won't know which the judges attribute more to until the live show later, so all I can do is sit tight.

Wilson Joyce

I'm right about being just as alone in the Capitol as back home. My mentor, Brynn, wants nothing to do with me. She tells me to be sneaky, and that's it. Some mentor she is.

We're all mixed together as people meet their mentors, and my eyes fall on one of the Careers, of all people. I don't know his name, but he's not like the rest of them. He seems smarter, more stately, even. I can tell he's not the typical Career, and I'm immediately enamored.

I learn his name in the Training Center later. Catullus. I repeat it on my tongue for a bit. It flows so well.

It can never be, of course. I see the way he looks at Cressida, and the way the district 1 girl looks at him too. Not to mention the fact that at least one of us has to die by the nature of the Games. It doesn't stop me from wishing, though.

I don't mention Catullus in my interview. I highly doubt it would help my chances at all. So even though he's been the only thing on my mind, I have to talk about something else. I talk about the Community Home and how I don't have anyone to return to. People will feel bad for me, and maybe they'll sponsor me. Or something. I don't know how it's supposed to go.

I blend into the background at judging. Not in the way I'm so accustomed to, but rather as camouflage. Turns out not being noticed is a true skill, one that I've perfected through the years. I'll probably end up with a decent score from it, too.

Not that it matters. Catullus won't care.

Hadley Thrims

Brynn, my mentor, brings up my strength the minute I walk into the mentor room. Apparently she could 'feel my prowess' and thinks I have a chance. I think that's bullshit, but she's my mentor. I should probably listen to her, even if I think she's wrong.

They pretty me up for Caesar's interview. I'm put in a lilac dress, and they straighten my bangs. My hair is already pretty straight, but I guess they wanted everything to be perfect.

Caesar asks me about my skills, and I tell him the truth. I'm quite strong, like Brynn noticed, and I plan to use that to my advantage. I also know a lot of things about survival. I tell him this, and he grins. "See that, everyone? She knows what she's doing!"

I love the stage.

The next day rolls around. In general, I'm a good survivalist, and I make sure the judges know it. I demonstrate memorized plants and snares, and they seem to be happy enough with it. I guess I'll know for sure once my score comes out.

Trick Carssen

My mentor, Theo, seems to be rather useless. I spend more time talking to other tributes than to him. I even have the time to talk to other people's mentors when they go awry instead of spending time with my own. He sees me for all of five minutes, during which he tells me to try to 'be less of a dipshit.' Thanks, Theo.

The other tributes are nice enough at least. Pepper seems like a sweet girl, and the boy from 6, Cemeron, seems especially tragic. I want to protect them. On the other hand, if they live, I will have died, so I don't get too invested.

Caesar sets me up in a lovely dark purple suit and the stylists put gel in my hair. I look rather dashing, if I do say so myself. It won't matter in the arena, but maybe it'll nab me a sponsor or two.

I play the part I want to—one of someone confident and capable, someone who can win the Games. And I think the crowd buys it.

The judges don't though. Not after I almost cut my fingers off trying to close some knives during my demonstration.

I try not to let it bother me. A lower score will only hide my true potential from enemies and have them underestimate me. And it's not like I totally failed. I hit most of my targets. …I just also hit my hand.

Ellinor Harris

Theo greets me as if I were my brother, which is not the best sign. "Go for the vengeance angle," he tells me. "Like you're avenging his death."

"I am," I say earnestly, to which he laughs.

"Yeah right," he replies. "Like you could actually avenge him. I only mean you should act like that's your plan, so nobody thinks you'll die right off the bat."

"Do you think I'm going to die right off the—"

"Of course I do! The trick is to make sure the sponsors don't, though."

And that's all he gives me. I'm left on my own to plan.

My actual tactic is to hide, but I make sure to keep that under wraps. When Caesar asks me my strategy, I only say that I like swords. He laughs at this, not in the mean way Theo had, but in a kindly, who-would-have-thought manner. I decide I like Caesar.

And then it's over all too soon. The next day I go in front of the judges, and I stick with my swords schtick. I try to decapitate a dummy with one, but I'm not strong enough to get the head all the way off.

I don't mind. If I fool the judges and they underestimate me, I'll actually have an advantage in the arena.

Willem Vanner

I get off the train and am immediately swarmed by people. "Fans," my mentor Lancel says as he ushers me into the room where we'll discuss strategy. "Of your father, mostly, but surely some of you specifically, too. They like it when someone related to someone they know shows up. It's an extra connection for them."

"They don't know my father, though," I say. "They don't live with him. And it's been years since he won."

"I know," Lancel replies. "But don't tell them that. They think they know him, and that can only help you. Did he give you any advice?"

"Yes."

"Good. Use it. And don't tell a single soul what it is." He sighs. "I want to bring you home. But I haven't won any Games. He's got valuable advice that nobody else can give. Don't waste that."

I nod. And before I know it, it's time for my interview. Caesar stays away from the topic of my dad, instead letting me develop my own narrative of my story. I appreciate that. There's no pressure to reveal what he told me or even that he told me any advice at all.

I play up my strengths for the judges. Which are mainly building shelters, traps, stuff like that. Dad never thought to train me. Still, I think I got a decent score. I'll know in no time.

Rosalie Percell

My mentor's name is Lancel. God, it's such a Capitol name, isn't it? Lancel. Almost a normal name, bastardized by them.

He's not bad, though. He tells me I just need confidence in myself. After all, if I don't believe I can win, who will? I suppose I should believe him in that. It's my last chance to trust myself, after all. And either I'm right, or I won't know I'm wrong.

Caesar asks me about my token. I'm all too happy to tell him about my coin. He asks me to demonstrate, and I ask if I'll win, heads for yes, tails for no.

It's heads. The crowd goes wild. I grin and do a quick curtsy for them. I'm secretly relieved it came out like that. I can't imagine the sponsors would be too happy if it went the other way. I shouldn't have worried, though. My coin wouldn't have failed me.

For the judges I wield a longsword. I'm amazing at it, too. I hack and slice and dice until my arms feel like lead, and the judges seem to love it. I think I'll get a good enough score for my efforts.

Bluff Cantor

The Capitol is pretty. It's in a fake, sanitized way, but pretty nonetheless. Just like Yaren, the mentor for me and Pepper. He's got lilac hair and all his teeth have rhinestones embedded in them. He gives me some advice I don't listen to. I can trust my own judgement, thanks.

I don't even talk to the other tributes. Pepper tries, but I push her away. I don't know what her angle is, but it doesn't concern me. She's too small to be of any use to me, and if she's smart enough to come up with a strategy that could help me, she's also smart enough to manipulate me. It's better to just go at it alone. Will I die? Probably, but at least it'll be my own fault.

The stylists get me ready for my interview. They fluff out my hair and stick a shaft of wheat behind my ear. It looks stupid, but at least the suit is a nice golden color.

Yaren said I shouldn't talk about Daffodil in the interview, but I ignore him. I bring her up as much as I can. If Capitol girls want someone single to root for, they can root for someone else. I refuse to betray my girl in my last nights alive just to have half a percent more of a chance.

At the judging I show the judges my knife skills. I slash and hack with ease, and I'm pretty sure I impress them. I did my best, and that's what matters in the end, though.

Pepper Lee

I've been off the train only a few minutes before I'm called into the mentor's room. Yaren runs a hand down my shoulder and grins at me. I shrink back and push him off.

He frowns. "You know, you don't have much time left if you want to… have fun. Can't do it in the arena, you know, and if you win you'll have to anyway."

My eyes widen. "I'm twelve!"

Yaren furrows his brow. "That doesn't matter. C'mon, I can get you lots of sponsors, just—"

"No! Get away from me!"

"Fine. Enjoy my apathy, then. No sponsors, no training. Good fucking luck."

As I hurry out the door, shaking slightly, I hear him mutter "fucking slut" under his breath. I don't know what to do about it. I try to tell Bluff, and I'm not sure whether I mean it as a warning for him or to protect me, but he brushes me off and I can't say a single word. He doesn't want to hear it.

And so I just curl up in a corner.

It's Trick who comes and finds me, actually. I tell him what Yaren did, and his eyes widen as well.

"That fucker. I'll kill him, you know. I wish mentors were put in the arena, too. They deserve to die more than any of us. Mine gave me no advice, and yours hit on you. Some mentors they are." Trick runs his hands through his hair and crouches down beside me. "Look," he continues. "In two days, we'll both be dead anyway. And I'm going to do my best to make sure nobody hurts you until then. In the arena, you're on your own. But til then, you're safe. Got it?"

I nod and give him a hug. He's a good guy. I'll hate to see him die.

I probably won't. I'll be dead first. It's not any comfort, though.

The stylists pull my hair back into twists and put me in a shimmer gold dress. It's got cap sleeves and the billowy skirt goes down to my knees. It's exactly the sort of thing I would have loved to play in out in some field—if we could afford something this nice, that is.

"Hi," I say to Caesar, and he gives me a pearly white smile in return.

"How are you enjoying the Capitol?"

I decide not to mention Yaren's advances. If I did, it couldn't possibly go well for me. But I don't want to lie, so I talk about everything else. "It's been amazing. Everything is so advanced! The showers are so cool, and everyone is so friendly. Even some of the other tributes too."

"I'm glad you enjoy it," Caesar replies, and it seems genuine.

The rest of the interview is nothing special. I have to focus on my training before I go in front of the judges. I have no chance at anything melee, so I concentrate on the ranged weapons. I quickly realize I'm not strong enough for a bow. That leaves me with plenty of options, though, like… a spear.

I throw one and it lands on the floor. At least it pierced the ground and didn't just fall over. I don't think the judges thought it was great, though.

Clay Hanover

The District 12 mentor Jacen greets me as soon as I get off the train. He examines me for a second before smiling. "We might be able to get you some sponsors," he says and extends a hand for me to shake.

I take it. "I'm glad, but how do you figure?"

"For a 12 kid, you seem healthy enough. Got some color on your lips!"

"That's blood," I reply. "I've got consumption."

Jacen sighs. "I should have known. I can get you some pills so you don't cough for the next week or so. It only pauses disease progression, so any lung function you've already lost won't be recovered. It might help your stealth, though."

"Thanks," I say. "That actually means a lot."

"It costs a lot, too." He rubs his temples. "Do you have any skills?"

"I can paint," I reply. "I always doodled in the margins of my notebooks. I'm a great artist."

"Okay. So 'nothing useful.' Good to know."

He's harsh, but I know he's right. There aren't many pencils in the Games.

My interview with Caesar is short. Jacen's pills work wonderfully and I don't cough once, though the bright lights still exhaust me. He asks me about home, and I tell him about my doodles, about Mom and Jasper and what life is like. He's really good at pretending to be interested.

When the time comes for the judging, I almost freeze. Despite practicing, there's still nothing I'm good at. All I can do is draw.

So I draw. I take some mud and a brush and begin to cover my skin. I turn my arm into some pebbles. They aren't terribly realistic, but they're the best I can do.

The judges look bored. I hope it's just been a long day, and not me specifically. I guess I'll find out after Bekyln goes.

Beklyn Summers

Jacen sighs when he sees me. "Well," he says, "you'll be an underdog. Sponsors will be… difficult, but we'll figure something out."

"What does that mean?" I reply. "Am I not a good candidate?"

"Oh, come on," he replies, waving a hand over me. "Take a look at all this! This is no time to be sugar-coating things. You're not pretty. You don't even have a chest to make up for it. And it's not like you can win them over with your prowess or intelligence, either."

I push back the tears and try to keep a brave face on. "I'm going to be better than they think. I'm going to kill a Career."

"I admire your spunk. I hope you're right. You know, it's hard on me to watch all of you guys die year after year, too. I'd like very much for someone to win and for me to see them again. It just hasn't happened yet."

I leave the mentoring room with wet cheeks and nails bitten worse than usual. Of course, that makes things more difficult for my poor stylists the next evening as they try to make me look good for my interview. They end up painting my nails black as coal to hide their state. The rest of me is also donned in black, from the dress to the heels to the lipstick.

I feel like I should hate the way District 12 is always made up to be coal miners and nothing else, but I can't. It matches my hair, and gives me a striking air.

Caesar calls me up, and I take his hand. "Hello," he says, and I grin at him.

"Hello!" I reply, bright and chipper. Jacen told me to show off how determined I am to kill, and I plan to emphasize every bit of it. I cannot seem as resigned to my death as I am.

"It's lovely to see you," he tells me. "So, do you have anything interesting to tell us?"

"I'm going to kill a Career," I say, and I see a moment's panic in Caesar's eyes. I don't think he expected death talk tonight. "I'm determined."

"Well, we love a girl who has a plan," he answers, and quickly moves on to my home life. It's not interesting, but the audience eats it up. Of course they do. They don't want to hear my strategy, they just want vapid talk about my brother and mom. Two people who will never see me again. Of course.

The interview ends, and the next day is training and judging. I hoist the spear in my hand confidently. I've been working on my skills since getting to the Capitol, and the weapon feels sure in my hand. The judges are tired and barely paying attention to me, but I still line up three dummies in front of them.

And then I throw the spear, with enough force to pierce all three necks. It's a straight hit, and the spear glides through them with ease. I do a little curtsy and spin on my heels before exiting the room. I'm happy with that.

I head back to the District 12 room. I'm confident my score will be better than Jacen and everyone else thinks it will be. Maybe it'll be enough to shock some sponsors into buying into my survival.

The room is plush, with soft red cushions and warm stained-glass lamps. Clay sits next to me on the couch as we wait for the scores to trickle in. As District 12 goes last for everything, we don't have too long to wait after we did our thing for the judges.

The presentation starts. Caesar hosts, of course, and he thanks all of us for our interviews yesterday. And then he gets into it. District 1 is no surprise—the boy gets a 9 and the girl an 8. It's especially impressive for her considering we're the same age, but I guess she is a Career. I really hope I don't run into them in the arena.

District 2 is up next, and their boy also gets a 9. Damn. He seemed nice enough, and the easiest Career to befriend, betray, and kill. I suppose not, not with a 9. His partner gets a 5 though, and that's very surprising. She's a Career too, right? Maybe I can take her out instead.

District 3 is always a bit of a wildcard when it comes to scores. I never expect much, but every so often they'll get a shockingly high score out of nowhere. And it happens this year, with their boy getting a 9 as well. Their girl gets a 2, and that's almost as shocking in the other direction. She must have been awful. Seriously, I'd target her, but she's not a Career, not to mention that I'm not sure she'll even make it to the Bloodbath.

And then it's time for District 4. The boy gets a 6 and the girl an 8. Normal Career scores. Perhaps a little low on the male side, but all the better for the rest of us. But they're the last of the Career groups. If I'm going to kill a Career, my choices are all out there. I decide not to make a decision quite yet. Tomorrow, in the arena—that's when I'll pick. I don't need to be locked into a strategy that may not work in the actual Games.

It's a 3 and 7 for the District 5 boy and girl, and District 6 gets an 8 and a 10. I shudder a bit at the girl's score. It's rather formidable, and higher than any of the Careers. She'll be very hard to deal with. I hope the Careers go after her early on.

The District 7 boy gets an 8, while the girl gets a 7. High scores for a relatively weak district. Maybe they'll have a chance. Just like the District 8, who both get 7s. I like to see the non-Career districts do well. I've got to root for someone, and since 12 is a lost cause, maybe one of them would be a good choice.

District 9 certainly wouldn't be. Their boy gets a 6 and the girl a 3. I'd be surprised if their district lasts more than a day. 10 doesn't fair a lot better, with their boy only getting a 6. The girl gets an 8, though, so maybe she has a chance.

The boy from District 11 gets an 8, but the girl gets a 4. And then, finally, it's District 12's turn. I bite my nails in anticipation. Clay ends up with a 4, and I watch his face fall. I pat his back. It's not as bad as it looks. He might be able to hide under the radar for a bit.

My own score is an 8, and I'm quite pleased by it! I knew I could be a threat, and this might just be enough to win a sponsor or two. I am vindicated and I'm ready to win. Or at least, get far and take out a Career. That's all I want to do.

The Games start first thing tomorrow morning. I bid Clay a quick farewell and head to my bedroom. I'll need to be well-rested.