Eliza Maddox, 17, D2F:

The second the luxurious train pulls into the station at the Capitol, people of all sorts begin pressing themselves up against the walls and throwing themselves at windows. Peacekeepers have to hold them back from the red carpet that has been unrolled in front of the stairs to the Remake Center especially for our arrival. I take a moment to compose myself, slip into the Career persona I have to embody, and prepare to leave the safety of the cabin.

Overall, the ride went pretty well. It was only a few hours long, and the untold opulence of the Capitol made itself known right away in the form of a treacly carbonated drink that an avox made right in front of us, mixing together pink syrup, fizzy orange liquid from a bottle, round lumps that came out of a freezer on a tray, and a finely ground powder. Even a basic Capitol beverage was rich enough to almost make me sick.

Thankfully, the escort took it away quickly once he noticed I seemed queasy. He's nice, if a bit airheaded. I spent most of the ride in the living area, munching on slightly less heavy Capitol food (mainly hard candies, which I stashed in my dress pocket for later consumption) and chatting with Rafe, my district partner. He seems pretty sweet, actually. Friendly, chivalrous, held open the door for me. It's clear he's putting on a front though. He's a trained Career, and clearly happy to kill people when the time comes.

For now, I think I can consider him a friend. I don't know if he saw through my charade as well, but I've been behaving exactly as Pop instructed me to. I'm also acting a bit more sociable than I normally am, in hopes of getting along better with Rafe and the escort. And soon, my support team and the other tributes as well.

The other tributes' trains are arriving around this time too. We're the second train in the terminal, the escort has informed me, right after the District One train. Ten more are lined up behind us, having all converged onto a single track. The Capitolites, with their skin dyed all colors of the rainbow and their elaborately styled wigs, throw themselves at our train, and undoubtedly the others as well, swarming it and banging on the windows. Their freakish faces look almost grotesque flattened against the glass panes.

The escort takes hold of my elbow to get my attention. "The train is soundproof," he says, "So don't be surprised when you walk outside and hear all the noise. It's going to sound like thunder, but you're a Career, so you can't afford to seem frightened."

"I know."

"Your mentor is from District Eleven. Her name is Marjorie. Have you seen her on television before?"

"Yes."

"She'll be standing on the left of the stone stairs. You walk over to her and she'll show you inside the building, alright? The prep teams won't arrive for an hour or more, so the tributes will all have some time with their mentors. So Marjorie is gonna take you to the prep room and talk strategy with you. I suggest you listen to her, she's a very intelligent woman."

"Of course. I'll take all the help I can get." In all honesty, I'm glad to have her as my mentor. A Career mentor would probably not be as sympathetic to my reluctance to kill, and wouldn't have much fresh advice, but Marjorie is as badass as it gets. I've seen snippets of her Games sometimes. She won when she was sixteen, with a mixture of cleverness and raw skill. She laid all sorts of traps around her camp to protect the supplies she gathered, and devised careful mazes of vines and briars in the jungle the arena was, which forced tributes to come into a clearing one by one, where she beat them to death with a set of brass knuckles. She'll definitely have lots of advice to give, and I'll happily listen.

"What about my mentor?" asks Rafe, noiselessly gliding into the room behind me.

"Ah, yes. Your mentor is Kael, also from District Eleven. Remember him?" Rafe nods his head. Kael is handsome and young, having won three years ago. He mainly fought with a pair of daggers, and was just generally tough. He'll be a good mentor to Rafe, if he deigns to listen to him.

"Yeah."

"So he'll be standing on the right side of the marble staircase. As I was just explaining to Eliza, the prep teams need time to commute and gather their supplies, so you'll have about an hour in the prep rooms to meet your mentors. And both of you, I highly encourage asking questions. These may not be the mentors you'd normally have, but they still have valuable live-saving tips to impart. And even if you don't care for them, they are still in charge of managing your sponsor gifts, so maybe keep that in mind."

"Makes sense," says Rafe. "Sure, I'll listen to him."

The reason the escort is giving us so many warnings is obvious. Most Careers are too wrapped up in their own greatness to even acknowledge the existence of anybody from an outer district, let alone humble themselves enough to listen to what they have to say. Rafe seems to be a little bit smarter than that, although it's impossible to know if he actually plans on sticking to the script Kael is sure to lay out for him.

Marjorie, I know I'll listen to. She's sharp enough to come up with a good angle for me, and shrewd enough to coax other mentors into having their tributes ally with me. She's got a lot of experience being a mentor, considering she's in her thirties, and she's brought home two victors during that time, one being Kael.

The escort nudges me. "Eliza on my left, Rafe on my right. Come on, we're walking together. The crowd is going to overwhelm you, and we're going to get separated. Interact with the Capitolites, but behave naturally. Make them love you, because you're only mixing with them for a minute or two and it's your first impression. Keep moving forward, and eventually you'll break through the Peacekeeper line and the crowd won't be able to touch you."

"What happens once we get out of the crowd?" asks Rafe.

"Then we'll resume position, with me in the middle, and Eliza to my left, and Rafe to my right, and we walk towards the Remake Center. There's going to be a short set of stairs, and your mentors will come in the building with you as I peel off to the side door where the escorts have to go."

"So you're leaving us?" I ask. "Won't we get lost?"

"Yes, but your mentors will get you where you need to be."

"Sounds like a plan," Rafe declares, and then, all of a sudden, the train doors open. We all walk out together, but the crowd separates us immediately. I'm instantly engulfed in a screeching crowd of the strangest folks I've ever met, and I try to keep my eye on the columns in front of the Remake Center.

An expensive, oversaturated fruity smell nearly chokes me as the people close in, and I realize it's hundreds, maybe thousands of Capitol perfumes mixing together at once. Everyone immediately reaches out to touch me, as though to prove I'm not a dream. A gaggle of boys about my age grab handfuls of my dress, pulling me towards them, a few older women reach out to run their fingers through my hair, marveling over the color of it, and a child in a bright blue gown clutches my hand, yanking on my wrist. All of them shout over one another and the crowd.

"Would you look at that fabric! Good taste for a district girl! I hope her stylist shows off that figure for us tonight!" hoots one of the boys.

"Is this your natural color? Why you'll fit right in with us once you're a victor, my dear!" squeals one of the women.

"Mama! Daddy! They're finally here!" exclaims the little girl attached to my arm. I suddenly remember the escort's instructions to make them all love me, and I also remember that my pocket is full of fine Capitol sweets from the train.

"Would you like a candy?" I offer, holding one out.

"Yay!" screams the girl as she snatches it from my palm. She instantly ducks through about three pairs of legs and jumps into the arms of a man with a bright yellow pompadour. "Daddy, look! That tribute gave me a candy! Can we sponsor her? Pleeeeeease?" She makes puppy dog eyes at him in an attempt to win his agreement.

"We'll see," he smiles, winking at her. I remember Mom and Pop doing that when I was little, and I know it's a yes. My plan is working better than I ever could have dreamed. I pat the shoulder of one of the boys.

"Gosh, I love your coat! You look so handsome in it!" I adjust the furry lapel. "Maybe you'll show me where to buy one sometime once I'm a victor!" He nods eagerly, trotting backwards, waves a goodbye, and jogs through the sea of people over to his friends, thumb pointing over his shoulder in my direction.

I sidle up next to one of the women, complimenting her purse, and another, asking about her hat, and the crowd allows me to pass through it slowly. Word seems to have spread among the children that I'm giving out candy, so I toss pieces to every one of the kids in the area as they bounce around me, jumping with joy. After about a minute, although it feels like much longer, I reach the far side and the Peacekeepers hold the crowd back. I blow them all a collective kiss as Rafe and the escort emerge from other parts of the crowd and we all shift back into place. The escort is quiet, being used to this, but Rafe is quietly mumbling swears under his breath about the fussy Capitolites. "Pretty girls though," he whispers to himself.

As we skim over the red carpet and ascend the beautiful white stairs, I see Marjorie waiting at the top, her dark skin gleaming with sweat under the rays of the afternoon sun and her coily black hair drawn back into two fat braids close to her scalp that reach down onto the back of her sleek maroon dress. Kael stands across from her, on Rafe's side. Marjorie and Kael throw open the glass double doors and pivot around, ushering us in as the escort veers off and strides along a narrow white passage. It occurs to me that he hasn't told us his name.

"You're Marjorie?" I ask. It seems silly to ask, but I want to make sure I have the right person.

"Yes. And you're Eliza, right? The District Two Female?" She says it like a title, and I realize that it actually is. Every year, the tributes are referred to by their position in the Hunger Games. Our names become secondary identities to the people here.

"That's right."

"Well, I'm your mentor. I must say, it's going to be a bit tricky for me this year. I've never mentored a Career before." She pauses, looking me up and down. "Well, I assume you're a Career. Most tributes from Two are." I look around furtively, and confirm that Rafe is still walking next to me.

"Yeah, I am. I couldn't imagine heading into this without training!" I give a laugh. "Actually, I was sort of expecting somebody to volunteer at the Reaping, but I was glad nobody did. I mean, there's always next year, but the Quarter Quell is as good as it gets!" Kael turns the corner and leads Rafe along a separate hallway. Marjorie turns into the one right after it and pushes open the second of twelve doors. D2F, it reads. She shuts the door once I'm inside. It's quite a large room actually, made of granite that was probably imported from my very own district and nearly as big as my house there.

"Actually," I admit, now that I have privacy, "I lied. I am a Career, and I have been trained, but I never wanted to be here and I really don't have the mentality and I don't know if I can fake it and-"

"Stop," Marjorie interjects. "No tribute I've ever mentored before has been excited for the Hunger Games. Your training already gives you an advantage, so let's focus on that. Now what have you trained with?"

"Well," I say, "A lot of stuff. The trainers at the Academy make you move around and try every weapon so they know which one you'll probably be best at. So I have the basic skills to use a spear, a sword, you know. But my main weapon, the one they've had me focus on, is throwing knives."

"You can throw knives? How accurately? How far? I need details."

"Pretty far. Definitely across the room, but my limit is about the length." I point at the walls I'm using to measure by. "I never miss a kill shot on a still target, and I can hit most moving ones, but of course it's harder because you don't know which way they're going to go."

"That's fantastic," Marjorie praises. "That'll get you at least a nine for a training score if you show the Gamemakers."

"Seriously?" I didn't dare hope for something that high.

"Seriously. Though you're right about the faking. It'll be difficult to maintain, but it's your best shot. But if it slips, if you mess up in the arena, if the Careers kick you out, you need an insurance policy. Sponsors. Now, I was standing at the top of those steps outside, and I saw the way you interacted with them. They love you, Eliza. But you weren't putting on much of an act, were you? Just a little extra confidence, right?"

"Yeah," I concede, "But what's that got to do with anything?"

"You didn't act bloodthirsty. You didn't act too arrogant. You looked cold and Career-ish at the Reaping, but to the people out there, you looked genuine. You were relatable, because you bought into their interests and you felt real to them. Rafe didn't do that. He kept his head down and tried to push through with that classic smirk of his, but you were the one everybody loved. If you can just bolster your normal personality with that extra bit of confidence, you won't have to be so cautious about keeping up a true pretense."

"And when I'm training?"

"When you're training, you'll have to muster every bit of arrogance and cockiness you can. You've got to go all out for that. But the rest of the time, not so much. You're the friendly Career. You're normal, you're likeable, and you aren't insufferable to be around. So what I want you to do is get in that Career Pack like the boss bitch you are and then we'll figure things out from there, okay?"

"I can do that!" Marjorie's strategy, plus what Mom and Pop said to me in the Justice Building are building up some real hope in me, and I feel a spark of true confidence that with this plan, I'm unstoppable.

"What are you smiling for?" Marjorie teases. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," I answer. "I'm feeling like a Career."

Ardledge Merton, 18, D4M:

I finally struggle away from the crowd, flanked by the escort, Calliope, and Lyra-Rose, my district partner. At the Reaping I just assumed that her sister was mean to glare at her, but having spent a few hours in a confined space with her, I can confirm that she's an insufferable person to be around and a glare or two would be completely justified. I don't think I've ever met someone who likes to complain as much as she does.

At least Calliope is nice. Lyra's mentor is going to be standing on the left side of the steps, she had said, and mine is going to be standing on the right. They're going to be from District One, per the twist, and Lyra is positively jumping for joy, being the only true Career to have a Career mentor. I have even more reason to celebrate, according to her, because my mentor is going to be Griffin Cadbury, who's probably the most famous victor in the Capitol. Calliope has given me express directions on how to speak to him.

One of the other tributes is also called Griffin, she had told me, but there's no concern of a mixup because my mentor demands to be referred to as Mr. Cadbury. He's grumpy, old, and hot-tempered, but he's brought back more victors than anyone else. As Calliope hustles us along a red carpet that has been placed on the floor and hisses at us to wave, I spot him. Mr. Cadbury stands at the top of the staircase, exactly where I was told he'd be, with a permanent scowl etched into his features. Allegra, a forty-something woman supposed to be Lyra's mentor, stands across from him, smiling broadly.

Calliope leads us up the stairs, and Griffin glowers as he tosses open the door for me. The second we're all inside, Calliope disappears down a hallway I hadn't noticed. She hadn't said she'd be leaving, but she did tell us on the train that our mentors would be taking us to our prep rooms. "Are you Ardledge Merton?" he demands.

"Yes, sir." In District Four, nobody really refers to anybody except the mayor that way, but Mr. Cadbury seems like the sort of person who'd want to be called sir. As if proving my point, he makes a tiny grunt of approval.

"Good. Proper Capitol manners. That'll save us some time since Calliope won't have to teach those to you. Only to the wretched girl over there,"he intones. He points his chin at Lyra, who already appears to be having a hissy fit over something. He tugs me down a much larger hallway, painted in the brightest shade of white I've ever seen. It's got glossy, metallic doors along one side, spaced very far apart. We pass the first, second, and third, stopping at the fourth. D4M, it says. District Four Male. That's me.

Mr. Cadbury pushes the door open, and the room is absolutely massive. It's got a high glass ceiling and tall reddish stone walls and giant bathtubs and pieces of furniture. I sit down on a stone bench, and Mr. Cadbury sits down next to me. Suddenly, his face softens and he transforms into a nice person. "So how's your day going?" he asks, and I'm so taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor that it takes me a moment to answer.

"Pretty terrible."

"Yeah, I understand. It must have been a nasty shock to be Reaped."

"It was. Wait, why are you acting so different?"

"Being crusty and peevish keeps away the gossip reporters," he explains. "They don't get in my business as much when I act like I'm pissed at the world."

"That makes sense."

"I'm glad you understand. So, just judging by your face at the Reaping, you weren't happy to be picked."

"I wasn't. I'm not a Career, I've never even been trained."

"That's alright. So, tell me a little about yourself." He smiles, the Capitol surgeries he's undoubtedly undergone making his face appear young and wrinkle-free.

"I think I'm gonna die," I say morosely.

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't stand the sight of blood. The idea of death terrifies me. I'd probably faint if I had to kill somebody." When I look at it this way, it seems like I'm bound to die. Even if some victors haven't killed anybody directly, they're all comfortable with the idea of bloodshed, and I'm just not.

"Yeah, that could be a problem. Are you scared of it or is it more of a repulsion issue?"

"Repulsion for sure. It just disgusts me overall. It's gross, it's creepy, I just don't want anything to do with it."

"Okay. Well, we'll have to work on that. But our first order of business is getting some allies for you. An aversion to blood can be dealt with, but to truly thrive in the arena, you need a team."

"So you're making me ally with the Careers?" That would be awful. They'd figure out right away that I have no skills whatsoever and probably kick me out of the alliance. If they found out in the arena, they'd kill me.

"Goodness no! We're going to check out some of the other tributes at the parade tonight. I already have some ideas about which ones you should be wary of and which you should consider buddying up with, but tonight you'll get to meet everybody. Wander around, make polite conversation. I've already got my eye on the Griffin boy from Eleven."

"Why? Is it because you have the same name?"

"Partly. And partly because I pity him for having a mentor so spoiled with alcohol he'll probably be near-comatose for the next month. Also because he's friendly and seems tough enough. Talk to him tonight, report back to me about what he's like. Okay?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Alright. I'd also like you to begin thinking about what skills you want to learn about in the training center. Training starts tomorrow morning, and lasts all day long. There are lots of things you'll need to know to survive, but the more things you want to try, the less time you have to study each one. That's another reason you've got to have an alliance. You'll only have to focus on one or two skills, and other people will cover other things. Ideally, at least two people each should learn medicine, fire starting, edible plant identification, how to find water, and how to build a shelter. That way you'll still be fine if a person dies in the bloodbath. Oh, and everyone in the alliance should learn a weapon."

"Okay. So who else do you suggest I ally with?"

"If you want maximum sympathy, pick some of the twelve-year-olds from the outer districts. They'll be happy to have an older person with leadership skills to help them out, and they'll already know something about survival techniques. By the way, do you know how to use any weapons?"

"I know how to use a fish-gutting knife. It's a longish flat dagger, some people call it a tanto."

"I know what a tanto is. Those are good, versatile weapons, and they're operated much like any other dagger. No matter what sort of dagger there is in the cornucopia, you'll be able to use it just as well as your knife back home. So since you're set for a weapon, tell me exactly why you don't like blood. You said you fish. What's so different about killing a fish and killing a person? You keep a fish-gutting knife on you, why are you comfortable around fish guts but not human ones?"

Because if I let myself act as Career-like as Lyra, there won't be any difference at all. Because my son will learn to be okay with murder. Because there's a difference between catching food because I have to eat and killing people maliciously.

"Well, there are a lot of reasons," I say slowly. "I suppose I always grew up around fishermen. My dad taught me to fish when I was real little. It's my district's industry, so it's always been everywhere. There's not really any other option. And I'm probably desensitized to it since it's just so commonplace."

"Ardledge, can I share a story with you?"

"Sure."

"That's very much how District One operated in terms of training for the Hunger Games when I was a boy. We all knew that to go into the Hunger Games meant killing people, but it was never really framed as eil. It was just the way things were done. See, when did you learn how to fish?"

"I was maybe six," I answer.

"In One, Academy attendance is almost-what's the word-compulsory. That's it. Compulsory. It's expected that every child will begin training at the Academy at the age of eight, so when we volunteer at eighteen, we will have had a decade of training. It's simply the way things are done. Pretty much every kid in the district trains for at least three hours every day since they turn eight, so when it's time to stab people instead of dummies, we're desensitized to it. I promise you that even though Four is a bit looser with Academy attendance, and it usually begins closer to age ten, that's the mindset Lyra has adopted."

"Four's brought home lots of victors recently. Do you know why, Mr. Cadbury?"

"I do. A nasty, smelly man runs training in District Four. He's not very capable, and the wave of victors Four produced happened a few years ago when a different man was in charge. Lyra, however, has only been training for four years, all under the new man. Four's last victor, Bethany, won two years ago. She had trained since age nine, and won at sixteen, so that's seven years of training, mostly under the old trainer. Now, volunteering has slowed way down because the new trainer is not only disgusting but terrible at his job. He also loves to feed his students' egos, which means Lyra-Rose is almost certainly overestimating her abilities. Even though she's bloodthirsty, she's stupid and useless, which means you shouldn't worry too much about her."

"So who should I worry about?"

"Not to frighten you, but the girl from District One seems like she would throw you ten feet into the air, snap your spine in half, and use it to roast marshmallows if you look at her wrong."

"Well that's comforting."

"And her district partner, although slightly less outwardly vicious, is definitely as cunning as a person can get. I can practically smell the scheming from here. Even if he seems to be in her shadow for the time being, I wouldn't be surprised if he's already making a list of people to kill, and probably hang upside down to drain the blood out of. He seems like the type to go psycho in the arena."

"So he's clearly going to be my new best friend. What about Two?"

"Mhm. That's an interesting one. The girl is obviously tough. Not as arrogant or cruel as District One, but still prepared to kill. I looked over her Reaping and she's externally very haughty and coolheaded. She might be faking the personality, but she definitely has the skills."

"And the boy?"

"As for the boy, I can't quite get a good read on him. At the Reaping, he looked a little afraid of his district partner, like she wasn't quite what he was expecting, but I'd still be worried about him. There's an edge to him that he's trying to hide and I find it a little concerning. Whatever the case, he's been playing cocky so far, and judging by those muscles, he's mastered physical combat. Stay far away from him. I've been a mentor for over fifty years, so I've gotten quite good at pinpointing tributes' abilities and he...he is somebody that you need to avoid. Pardon the accidental District Four pun, but there's something very fishy about him that suggests he has a bad temper and more strength than he's letting on. Steer clear, okay?"

"Okay. Anyone else I should know about?"

"Yes. The girl from Five volunteered. She's an older tribute, and seems tough, so you have two potential paths to take. You could either consider allying with her or avoid her. Either works. I'd say wait until you can observe her in training. The girl from Seven is similar. I think she'd be more likely to ally with you, but she'd also probably be more likely to stab you in the back. Talk to her in training too. Both of them seem like cool customers who are allergic to bullshit, so whatever you do, try not to get on their bad sides. And both of them could probably wipe the floor with you in a fight."

"Understood."

"And I'd stay away from the pair from Three and the girl from Eleven. The tribute Griffin's district partner. I can sense the slyness from a mile away. She's going to sneak around, spy on the fiercer tributes, and steal their supplies. In the outer districts, hanging around with a thief can get you executed. In the arena, it will also get you killed. So don't get spotted being nice to her."

"Alright. Why the pair from Three?"

"The girl's a little too artificial and robotic for my taste, and the boy clearly has no moral system whatsoever." I don't bother questioning how he knows this, trying as hard as I can to trust in his experience as a mentor.

"And that's all I need to know?"

"I think so, unless I'm forgetting something. Actually, yes, I am." He snaps his fingers abruptly. "The boy from Ten is going to ally with the Careers. Stay away from him too."

"Sure thing. I stay away from the Careers, Eleven's girl, Three, and Ten's boy. I talk to Eleven's boy and Five and Seven's girls. Also the younger kids from the outer districts."

"That's right. Now, your prep team is going to come in here soon. What they do is often humiliating, painful, and stupid, but I suggest you don't fight it. The members of your prep team will be much more likely to help you out if you're nice to them, and they can be your greatest helpers." I don't see how that can be true, but I nod anyways.

"Sounds good. So when will I be seeing you again?"

"Right before the idiot carousel tonight, when you're in your costume."

"Before the tribute parade?"

"Yes. But considering all the reporters that buzz around that shit like flies, it is an idiot carousel."

"Goodbye, Mr. Cadbury. Thank you for the advice!"

"No problem. I'll be back in three hours. And don't forget what I've told you!"

Jenna Reyer, 18, D7F:

My mentor is a tall, curvy woman with glowing skin and bright freckles from District Four. She introduces herself as Bethany right away, and I can immediately tell that she's got a bubbly, cheeky personality. I'm a little more serious, considering there's a pretty high chance I'm going to die in a week, but her energy is infectious and I can't help but love her. It also helps that she's eighteen, my age, and even though she's now responsible for getting me out of the arena alive, she's definitely someone I want to be friends with.

"Oh, it's so lovely to meet you!" she exclaims the second the door marked D7F closes. "I've been positively on the edge of my seat for hours wondering what you'd be like! I was so excited to have a tribute from District Seven, let me tell you. I've only ever mentored one tribute before, and she was a Career, and this twist is obviously great for you. I mean, I know it's tougher to bond with someone from another district, especially a Career district, I mean I know most of you don't love us, but I'll be able to offer you a whole lot of advice you might not normally get and-" she stops to suck in a quick breath before continuing "-also you're obviously a stronger tribute, I mean look at those muscles!"

She pinches my bicep to test its strength. It's true, I've grown sturdy from working as a logger. My arms are bulging from all the hefting of tools and branches, my legs are firm and calves taut from so much climbing, and my back and torso are robust from having good posture and practicing the motions required to properly swing an axe.

"And that tan! Girl, you're gorgeous! The boys must be all over you at home!" She winks and nudges my side to get my attention, then makes an overexaggerated dopey boy face. "'Yeah, so my name is like Sebastian and I like your, um, face. It's very satisfying! And your hair is also brown, which is nice. And your boobs are very boobish. So date me this instant or else I will call you a slut because your boobishness is only nice when it is for my benefit.'"

Her caricature of a generic boy is so spot-on that I have no choice but to burst into peals of giggles. In fact, I don't think I've laughed this hard in years. Everything she emphasized about her fictional boy self is true about real boys: that they can't give a decent compliment, that they never properly introduce themselves or have a normal conversation, that they say weird, nondescriptive things about my body and that they get ridiculously annoyed when, after speaking three sentences, I don't want to date them.

"Gosh, you're really right about that. I hate it when people flirt with me but act like creeps. Actually, I don't much like big crowds either. I swear, the scene outside was my nightmare scenario!"

"I feel you, I really do. Boys can be tiring sometimes. But I have some ideas about which ones you should ally up with."

"Okay." I sober up immediately with talk of the Hunger Games. Just because I want to win doesn't mean that I'm excited about it or that I'm not afraid.

"I think that your best bet is the boy from Nine. I've already watched all the Reaping ceremonies, and after the tribute parade tonight I'll show you the highlights so you can see which tributes are threats. Speaking of the Reapings, your reaction was great!"

"It was?"

"Oh, totally! You really made it seem like you were serious about winning. You looked so tough and bold up there, and there's already talk of sponsoring you based on your demeanor alone. So keep it up!" Everything she says is so peppy that it's inspiring, even if I'm trying as hard as I can to stay levelheaded and be conscientious of the glaring possibility that I might die in the arena.

"So why are you suggesting the District Nine boy?" I ask.

"Well, first of all, I think he's cute, although that has no bearing on me wanting you to ally with him. Actually, it sort of does. He's already popular with the Capitolites, and a lot of people are thinking of sponsoring him solely because he's handsome and charming. As a tougher girl who already has sponsors lining up at the gate, interacting with him will win you the support of his fans and vice versa. Besides, he seems decently strong and will probably fare well in training. I think that if you pull at least a seven, and he does too, sponsors will see you two as a package deal, a two-for-one special. They'll devote resources to two promising tributes, but they won't have to worry about the two tributes fighting each other."

Her reasoning seems pretty on point, so I decide that it deserves a try. Besides, even if she is new to mentoring, she probably knows more than I do and is certainly more familiar with the ins and outs of the sponsorship system.

"So do you have any prior weapons experience?" she asks.

"Well, I'm great with an axe. I've worked as a logger for a really long time." I figure that it's not bragging to speak frankly about my strength, and that to coach me as best she can, she needs to know the truth about the extent of my abilities.

"Axes?" she squeals. "I love axes! I won my Games with them! Oh, the Capitol axes are so light and they're perfectly balanced. Plus, they've got a special grip in case you want to throw them, and the edge is super sharp!" I didn't actually remember that she won her Games with axes, and it's not even a huge coincidence considering the amount of tributes throughout history that have used axes, but somehow it seems to cement our friendship and give her something additional to bond with me over.

"Really? That's awesome!"

"I know!" she says, as peppy as ever. "Tell you what: after the tribute parade, let's have a girls' night. We'll order up some food, watch the Reaping highlights and some previous Hunger Games, and then when it gets late we'll make blanket forts in the living room!" I've never personally made a blanket fort, but it seems fun, and besides, I could stand to spend some time analyzing past strategies. I feel bad, thinking about Hickham and Juniper back in District Seven, worried sick, but it occurs to me that they would also like Bethany, and once I win, I'll be able to arrange for them to meet her.

"That sounds great," I say. "Remind me, what time does training begin in the morning?"

"Eight. The girl in charge there, Hortensia, she's real nice. The trainers are all super good at what they do, and they have private rooms if you want to ask questions without other people overhearing, and you'll get to do pretty much anything you want in there until eleven. They stick everyone in this giant elevator and take you to a different level to eat lunch and socialize, and then at noon training starts up again until five. It'll be a long day, so we won't stay up all night."

"That sounds great. So what's your plan for when I get into the arena?"

"The working idea is that you get an axe from the bloodbath. Actually, how good are you at running?"

"So-so. I have stamina, and I can go for a long time, but I'm really slow."

"Okay. So there have been a lot of rumors about what the arena is going to be. It's a Quarter Quell, which has traditionally meant that the Gamemakers do something funny to the Cornucopia. If it's just a mad dash, don't go for an axe." I can feel my face fall. "I know, it sucks. But every year, tributes who aren't fast enough rush in and become cannon fodder, but I intend to make a victor out of you. If there's no axe available close to you, look around for other weapons in your path. I'd suggest picking a meeting spot with your allies, like where the tail of the Cornucopia is pointing."

"Sounds good. So do I run to the meeting spot right away?"

"No. You have a full minute on your platform before the Hunger Games actually start, so you have to look around for weapons and supplies on your path to the meeting spot. Aim for the most direct route, but if there's another tribute in your way, it's more important to avoid them than to grab a backpack. Then you can just loop back around to the meeting spot."

"And if the Cornucopia is something different?"

"If it's different, it'll probably involve swimming or climbing. Climbing, you know what to do. Get the axe. Swimming, it depends on how good you are. I'd recommend doing some swimming lessons tomorrow in training."

"Okay, let's say I don't get an axe. What's my top priority?"

"That changes based on what sort of arena you're in. If there's a lot of drinkable water around that you can see, then your first priority is going to be food. If you see a forest with a lot of animals or fruit or whatever, then your first priority is water. The Gamemakers like to deprive tributes of one or both in the arena to keep them on their toes. If there is neither edible food nor drinkable water, finding water is more important. I'm just gonna warn you ahead of time that ocean water is not safe to drink because it has salt in it, even if you put iodine in it, and you shouldn't drink any sort of unpurified water. Even if you're on the brink of dying from dehydration, purify it first. Or boil it, if it's safe to make a fire."

"Priorities are water, then food, and I need to purify the water first. And no seawater."

"That's right. Remember, there will always be at least a few sponsors because you're a strong tribute. I can spring for water purification capsules if you don't have any, so if you have some unpurified water and I don't give you anything, I'm signalling that it's safe to make a fire."

"Alright."

"And if you're starving and there's vegetation all around you and I don't send you anything, it means it's probably safe to eat. Remember, I have access to all the information I need in the Capitol. I can look it up or talk to somebody who's familiar with plants, so you can trust my judgement."

"I can trust your judgement about what plants are safe."

"Yes. And if the plants aren't edible, I'll try to send you something, even if it's just a snack, to signal that they're poisonous."

"That makes sense to me. And how will I be able to tell on my own what plants are poisonous? I'm sure you can't buy me a snack every time I pass by something toxic."

"There's a station for identifying plants in the training center. Visit it tomorrow, and the swimming station, as I said."

"Okay. So what should I do in the arena after the bloodbath, assuming that I've found food and water?"

"I'm also going to assume you have an ally, probably the District Nine boy. Speaking of allies, I'd encourage you to socialize tomorrow. Still be your tough self, but migrate around the room a little. Ideally, your allies should be at least sixteen. It's cruel to say, but you don't want to get stuck playing mommy for a twelve-year-old who's gonna die in the first five minutes. So begin with the Nine guy. I'll point him out to you tonight just before the tribute parade. You can go over, say something nice about his outfit, introduce yourself as Jenna. Then tomorrow in the training center, you'll already have something to kick off the conversation with."

"I'll do that for sure. So in our arena hypothetical, I have an axe, I've got food and water, and I'm with the District Nine boy. What am I supposed to do next? Should I avoid danger and risk boring the Capitol or should I rush into the thick of things with the chance that I'll be killed?"

"My advice is this: play it conservative towards the beginning. On the first day, there's a lot of excitement because of the bloodbath, so for a few days, you can just stay in one place and hang out. I'd suggest getting away from the Careers first, but whatever is fine. There's no real reason to go tearing off with your axe in hand for a while yet."

"So, just to recap, I stay put for the first three days?"

"Yes. Then you can move around. I'd suggest climbing something and getting the lay of the land. Unless the entire arena is up high, being at the top of a tree gives you an advantage. Not only will you learn some landmarks of the arena, if there's not too much foliage below, you might be able to tell where some of your fellow tributes are. Head for a weaker one if you can. If you can't, think about a place where a lone tribute might hide and start walking over there. Be aggressive, there are cameras everywhere. You want the Gamemakers and the audience both to know that you're on the hunt."

"Should I purposefully stomp on twigs and stuff to do that? Or should I be quiet and sneaky? I want it to be clear I'm not afraid to hunt but it's stupid to make a lot of noise."

"Don't deliberately make noise bursting through dry leaves and stuff, but talk a lot. Remember, the Capitolites can hear everything you're saying. Chat with your ally about where you suspect tributes might be, and that you want to eliminate the weak ones before taking on real threats. Play the situation to your advantage and make it obvious that you're on the offense. The cardinal rule of survival is that the Gamemakers want a good show. If you're adding tension, they're on your side. They might drive the tribute towards you using a storm or mutt to something, or they might change the wind direction or visibility conditions to guide you in the right direction."

"Because," I say, catching on, "It just wouldn't do if I was hunting in the entirely wrong area. Where's the conflict?"

"That's right," says Bethany. "The Hunger Games thrive off of direct combat. If you present yourself as a willing participant, they'll pick on somebody else, and will usually give you an advantage at the same time. If there are a lot of Careers, hide. They'll be hooked on the tension. Your best shot for taking down a Career is by ambushing them when they're alone and too far from the rest of the Pack to call for help."

I check the clock on the wall. "Can you tell me more later?" I ask. "The prep team is set to arrive any moment now."

"Sure," she laughs. "Enjoy your spa treatment. I'll talk to you once you're all dolled up and ready for the parade." She saunters away, and it occurs to me that I should probably be taking notes. I try to repeat the words in my mind to preserve them as I fumble in a cupboard for a pen and paper. I dig up a half-full pink notebook and a glittery marker. It'll have to do. I'm still mumbling phrases and scribbling furiously when the members of my prep team enter the room.

Oscar Poudret, 17, D1M:

I learned a lot on the train ride to the Capitol: that the escort's name is Glacé, that the people here are insane, and that Livi is even more terrifying than I first thought. She and I had a fun, not at all alarming conversation after she cornered me in the last car and blocked the doorway so I couldn't leave. "I have a deal to propose," she said.

"What sort of deal?" I had asked.

"The sort of deal that benefits me more than it benefits you."

"Well that's not the sort of deal I'd want to make. Move." I told her.

"Sweetie, I'm going to let you know that right now, I'm considering you the runt of the Career Pack. Now, I can help look out for you, but I need something first. There's going to be a power struggle within the Pack, and I want to end up as the top dog. If you vouch for me, I'll make you my right hand man. I'll be behind you and listen to your ideas."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to knock your teeth out." I had seriously considered screaming for help, but then she continued, "Not right now. In the arena. You'll have a decent shot at victory, but if you disobey me-" She shot me a deceptively reassuring smile. -I'll target you the second I get my hands on a spear. And once that happens, there's a very slim chance you'll be escaping me." I accepted her deal. What else could I do? If that's the price of her protection, then so be it.

Now she's trotting along the red carpet next to me, walking up the stairs so close that the hem of her dress brushes my leg. It's disturbing to see her behave so normally after directly threatening me less than fifteen minutes ago. A woman and a man stand at the top of the staircase. The woman, Leah, is nearing fifty and smiling wide, and will be Livi's mentor. The man, Fulton, is in his twenties and seems like he'd rather still be in bed. As Leah pushes open the doors and shooes us inside, Glacé disappears to locations unknown (a dark hallway).

Fulton tugs me away from Livi down a second hallway, this one much brighter, and opens the first door. It leads to a large stone room containing lots of bathtubs and cosmetic products. An entire floor-to-ceiling shelf standing thirty feet tall is entirely full of folded towels. Huge twenty-gallon drums labeled 'bath foam' and 'body wash' and 'wax' are stacked up on the other side of the pink crystal bench in the center of the room.

I sit down, and Fulton sits down next to me, then attempts to lay down, scooting me off the end of the bench so he can recline. I give him a shove. "Can you move?"

"Nah, don't feel like it."

"Why won't you help me?"

"Help you?" He sits up, slumping, rubbing his cheek with an oversized sweater sleeve. "Why didn't you just ask?" He looks at me blankly for a moment before reaching out his hand for me to shake. "Fulton Bethesda. You're my new tribute?"

"Yeah. It's, um, so good to meet you. Are you going to help me be the victor?"

"Oh, for sure. There's one key to surviving. Just ask yourself 'What would Fulton do?' and you'll be fine. So I'm going to throw a few situations at you and just tell me what you think Fulton would do, and therefore, what you need to do." Fulton referring to himself in the third person is probably the most pretentious thing I've ever hear, but I decide to play along.

"Alright."

"You're stranded with no food, water, or allies, three people are chasing you with swords, and the volcano you're sitting on is about to explode. Now, ask yourself, picture in your mind's eye, and think carefully. 'What would Fulton do?' Or just W-W-F-D for short. So, Oscar, consider. What would Fulton do?"

"Fulton would run down the edge of the volcano to avoid the eruption and put distance between him and his pursuers using the elevation advantage, and then he would-"

"WRONG! Fulton would go home and take a nap because he's already done his time in the arena. Then Fulton would drink some whiskey and, while trying to recover from his headache, get bored because some idiot Career is trying to force him to take this hypothetical seriously." His answer is so utterly stupid I decide to take a page from Livi's book and threaten him rather than actually negotiate.

"Well, Fulton's gonna get his sorry ass punted through the skylight over there if he thinks this is going to cut it. Give me some real advice."

"Fulton thinks he can do that if he can take a break first to snort some fenny outside."

"No, Fulton's gonna stay away from drugs while he's responsible for my life. I'll get out of his way and never ask him annoying questions again if he'll give me his undivided attention every day for an hour." He sits up straighter.

"Fulton can manage that. What questions do you have for him?"

"First of all, I'd like Fulton to know that I plan on joining the Career Pack and that I may have sold myself into Livi's possession as her new slave and mouthpiece. Also that I now really regret it and need his help."

"Honestly, you have no chance of escaping her authority. Give up now! Don't bother wasting energy on fighting stuff you can't change."

"Fine. Since that's a definite no, I want to know how I should act around the other tributes."

"Fulton thinks that depends on the details of your deal with Livi." I think back, trying to recall her exact words.

"She wants me to push for her to be the leader of the Career Pack. If I do, then she'll treat me like her deputy, and if I don't, she'll kill me right away."

"Ah. Fulton would say that tonight or tomorrow, whenever the Careers meet up and try to figure out who the boss is, really prop up Livi as the best choice. Act like you're really certain about it, and be as arrogant as you'd like. Dismiss other people's ideas, act fake-sympathetic, say that you like being in charge too, but she's a lot smarter than you and is therefore the best person for the job."

"And then what?"

"Then you've got to keep supporting her. Make her look good in front of the others, cover for her when she makes mistakes. Obey her, and treat her authority like it's set in stone. People with less willpower will be inclined to follow your example."

"I'm still unclear. When do I stop treating every order she gives like a divine prophecy that must come true?"

"You don't. You have to obey her or she'll go out of her way to make life hell for you."

"Okay. So tell me a little bit about the other Careers."

"Fulton was too lazy to watch the Reapings, so he doesn't really know what to tell you. He'd also like to note that you have other concerns besides the Careers to worry about."

"You mean the Gamemakers?"

"Yes, Fulton means the Gamemakers. They won't like it if you just sit around and do nothing. You need to stir up the dramatic factor. Go hunt weaker tributes a lot. Make friends with the other Careers and gossip about other tributes. Make a kill list and be open with the audience that you have specific people you want to go after. Ideally, torture them to death once you catch up with them. Have you ever plotted a murder before? Practice doing it if you haven't."

"I've plotted a murder before. I don't really think I need practice." In all truth, I really have. It was just a natural coping mechanism when Alise was beating me. Once she left, I'd write down intricate plans of how I'd carve her knuckle bones into lockpicks so I could get at the food, or how I'd put hot coals in her mouth and melt her tooth enamel to make jewelry that would fetch high prices in the District One boutiques. I never carried any out, of course, but they helped keep me sane.

"Suit yourself. I'm sure if you tag along with Livi tonight, she'll introduce you to the other Careers. Do try to be friendly with them, if not for her sake then for yours. They'll be your allies in the arena, so you need to build a strong rapport with them as soon as possible. Don't forget, you have to entirely be on Livi's side tomorrow. Tonight, just be the usual arrogant Career. Do you think you can do that convincingly?"

"Yeah." To be honest, I am pretty arrogant, especially with people I don't know. Livi is the exception because her arrogance is at record levels. On the train, I was sticking by Calliope specifically so I didn't have to deal with her, and her intimidation factor is high enough to make me feel like a toddler hiding in his older sister's skirt when the Academy bully comes into view.

Then again, her techniques are effective, and I know that because they're working on somebody who's been professionally trained for a long time, and if I can recover my usual confident attitude, the outer-district tributes are going to be absolutely paralyzed with fear. They'll want to stay away from me, they'll duck and hide when I get near them, and they'll go out of their way to avoid making contact with me.

"So, what should I do in training tomorrow? I want to show off my skills of course, but do you think I need to practice any survival skills or other activities? Actually, back up all the way. What stations will there be? Will every sort of weapon be available? How do you think I can best play the angle that's decided for me? Will the sponsors know what I'm doing? Will the Gamemakers be there? Is the training being recorded?"

"The training will not be recorded. It won't be televised, and the Gamemakers won't be doing a whole lot of observation, but they will occasionally sit in for ten minutes just to check up on what their new batch of tributes are doing. The Head Trainer is going to constantly be taking notes on what you do and reporting to the Head Gamemaker though, so she'll know what you're up to. Word on the street is that she's worked on constructing a few new stations, but Fulton hasn't really been following those developments."

"Why?"

"Because Fulton really doesn't give a crap about what fancy-schmancy new technology they'll give you before sending you in an arena that's probably just a giant death pit with sharp sticks protruding from it. He has very little interest in matters relating to the Hunger Games, and the only reason he;s even wasting time on talking to you is because you're the first tribute he's ever mentored who's actually stood a chance of winning."

"Fulton still hasn't told me what I should focus on."

"Fulton thinks you need to spend a lot of time showing off your abilities. Don't go all-out, but give it eighty-five percent effort. That way you'll get a higher training score than was predicted for you and the sponsors will be intrigued as to what you did. Poke around the new stations, talk seriously with some of the trainers about which skills other tributes need to learn and try to scare them away by visiting those areas. Make it obvious to even a casual observer that you've got serious skills and advanced training."

"So my main priorities are showing off and just making other tributes scared? No survival skills at all?"

"No. That's why there are supplies and sponsors, idiot. And this is going to get you sponsors. Now, Fulton is looking at his very expensive gold watch and has determined that there are thirty seconds remaining in today's hour of coaching. Is there anything else you'd like to ask him before he leaves for the evening?"

"Yeah. What's the prep team going to do to me?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. Oops, looks like you're out of time. Fulton will see you after the tribute parade to offer false praise and take advantage of the open bar in the District One suite. Ta ta!" He shoves open the door with his shoulder and leaves abruptly, the automatic lock clicking into place. I'm trapped here until the Capitolites come to scrape away all of my body hair and scrub the top three layers of my skin away and probably cut all of my eyelashes off or something equally stupid.

Back in District One, when victors made special guest visits to the Academy they've always discussed the pre-Games procedures, and every one of them that I've met has talked about how awful the preparation process is. Still, if I can withstand an entire childhood of abuse and a train ride with Livi, who is a mythic bitch, I can withstand an aggressive scrubbing down by some of the freakish people who live here.

"Oh, goodness! What an excellent specimen!" A voice gets my attention, and two others chime in as three of the strangest-looking women I've ever seen come in through a side door, pushing a huge cart of supplies. The one walking alongside the trolley runs over to me, teetering on fluorescent green platforms. Her skin is dyed a deep midnight blue, and her silver waist-length hair is slicked back with so much gel that when she leans over to examine me, her hair lifts up in a single mass and sticks out behind her like it would if she were a paper doll. "Yes, I think this one will do quite nicely for Murrieta. Quick, you take his measurements and fax them over to her."

She takes hold of my chin and tilts it this way and that, pulling at my skin as though it were an elastic band and running her fingers along my gums, tugging my lips open so she can examine my teeth. It's instantly awkward and uncomfortable, but if this is the price I have to pay to become a victor, then so be it.


Hey y'all! So, as I'm sure you've noticed, there are a lot fewer POVs in this chapter, despite it being very long. That's because I want to focus more fully on each tribute, rather than having very short bits for each of them every chapter. For the next few chapters, I'll be alternating tribute and Capitolite focus, so the next chapter will be from the perspective of the Head Gamemaker. Thank you to everyone who reads, and especially those who review, you're amazing and I love writing this story so much!

-LC :)