District 6: Lexus Beltran (15) Pov-

Lincoln dives his spoon in the bowl of mashed potato and drops two heaping mounds onto his plate. He adds several scoops of green beans and a pile of carrots and begins shoveling the mountain of food into his mouth.

"You'll get sick if you eat so much," Tulip says, frowning.

"I'm just trying to make up for the last thirteen years of my life," Lincoln explains as he grabs a bread roll.

I scoop up the last of my own mashed potato and stand up to walk to the sink. The world zooms by outside the train, but, even though we're going a zillion miles per hour, I can't feel a thing. There's a good chance this train was manufactured in my home district. How ironic that there's a good chance it's taking me to my death.

"Where's the sink," I ask, showing Tulip my empty plate.

"Excuse me?"

"The sink. I need to clean the dish."

Tulip laughs. "Don't worry about that. The avoxes will come through later and clean up after us."

I can't help the bubble of anger that forms inside of my chest. I can't stand the way she treats the avoxes like slaves.

"No, really. Where's the sink?" I insist, my voice firm.

"Really, just sit down," Tulip demands.

I sink back down into my chair and push my plate to the center of the table. A disgusting crunching sound is heard as Lincoln bites into a piece of turkey, his teeth grinding against the hard bone within.

It's a long time before any of us speak again. My mouth feels dry with guilt at all of the food I have access to while people are starving in all 12 districts.

"What do we have here?" a jolly voice booms from behind.

I whip around. The voice's owner is a young woman I would recognize anywhere. Kasey Slosser has been mentoring District 6 girls for the past two years. The mood instantly lightens in her presence.

"What's your name, sweetie?" Kasey asks with a playful smile.

It takes me a lot longer than it should to realize she's talking to me. "Um… Lexus Beltran. Lexie for short."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lexus. I think it's time to… ope! Look who's here!"

Apollo Reinold strolls into the room, holding a bottle of alcohol. When he sees us, he quickly hides it behind his back. It's no secret that Apollo's an addict, but he's evidently ashamed of it.

"Welcome, new tributes," Apollo says rather grandly.

Kasey chimes in. "Our plan right now is to split you two up and talk strategy with you guys individually. You can discuss later if you want."

Kasey whistles, and two avoxes speed into the room. I can't bear to look at them, so I stand up and walk slowly to Kasey's side.

"Pssst!" I hiss to Lincoln. "Get up!"

He sets down his fork and wipes barbecue sauce from the corners of his mouth. Apollo frowns as Lincoln belches loudly.

"Follow me," Kasey instructs.

I follow her into a train car with a plush purple sofa and light-blue carpet. She invites me to drop down onto the couch. Kasey grabs the remote and flicks on the holographic television. The reaping in District 1 starts playing immediately.

"You're a very courageous girl," Kasey says. "Tell me about yourself." Her tone is calming and motherly.

"I have a mom and dad and sister, Elizabeth."

"I know," Kasey says, nodding.

"How did you know?"

"Well… oh, I shouldn't have said that," Kasey says, blushing guiltily. "Well, they want us mentors to get to know our tributes as well as possible. So they show us the goodbyes."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. The goodbyes are supposed to be private! I can't help but feel like my privacy has been violated.

Knowing that I'm probably being recorded right now as well, I change the subject to strategy. "If I find a river and it looks clean, should I drink it? What bugs are edible? What colors of fruit?"

"Slow down, kid!" Kasey says, taking a deep breath. "We have a whole week together."

That's true, of course, but I don't mention that it could be the last week of my life.

District 1: Declan Benitoit (17) Pov-

I've always wondered what the inside of a Capitol train looks like. A circle of pristine blue velvet chairs surrounds a central coffee table made of dark mahogany. Small circular tables are placed every ten feet, covered with perfectly frosted cupcakes and sweets that give off a pleasant aroma. Golden chandeliers masquerade from the ceiling. A coffee machine is bolted to a countertop in the far corner. Bouquets of flowers line the windowsills.

District 1's escort Calypso walks in first and turns around, welcoming us inside. She outstretches her hand to help me up the steep stairway.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Calypso helps Sangria into the train, the door closes behind us, and silence envelops the train. Two figures I didn't notice before are seated in the plush velvet chairs. It's not until they turn around that I realize who they are.

Porcelain Wing is one of the smallest victors District 1 has ever seen. His long auburn hair is held back in a ponytail. Porcelain is dressed in a sleek suit and khaki dress shorts.

Iuna Mosier wears a shining silver dress that looks to be fashioned from ground diamonds. Her golden-blonde hair cascades down her back, and her light-blue eyes bounce between myself and Sangria.

Calypso, Sangria, and I sit down across from the two mentors. An awkward silence hangs in the air.

"Hey. S'up?" I say.

Iuna glares at me as if I've committed the crime of the century.

"What? I just said…"

"Porcelain and I have carefully evaluated the reapings," Iuna interrupts, looking more than a little annoyed. "and we have identified the most liable threats. The boy from 7 looks strong but that could be just looks. Same for the boys of 9 and 10."

"Here's how this will work," Porcelain says. "We'll split you guys up and train you each on half of the major threats. That way, your combined knowledge will be enough to take down any of the strongest outliers."

Iuna and Sangria amble into a separate train car, and I'm alone with Porcelain.

"I trust you have a good plan," he says shortly.

"What?"

Porcelain raises his voice. "What'll you do in the bloodbath? Guard the horn or run through the crowd killing outliers? What tributes will you prioritize?"

I take a deep breath before speaking. "I know what weapons I work best with. I know what the gamemakers like. Don't forget I've been watching the games for my entire life… um, sir."

"What's your chief weapon?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Axes and swords," I answer.

"That's a start," Porcelain admits. "Before we know it, your odds of being shunted from the career pack will be slightly less than the one-hundred percent they are now."

"I figure axes will be best for long range and swords for short range."

"What if there are no axes in the cornucopia?" Porcelain says so suddenly it's almost comedic.

I'm confused at first. "There are always axes in the cornucopia."

"What if there's too much fog to fight with a sword properly?"

"It would take a lot of fog to do that… sir."

"Do you not understand," Porcelain demands. "that these are all situations you could very well face in the games? You currently fail to understand that you must be prepared for anything. The gamemakers have cruel senses of humor."

District 12: Remi Gardner (17) Pov-

Haymitch Abernathy staggers onto the train, his steps uneven and his groans wobbling. His right hand is tightly gripped around a slender-necked green bottle, inside which liquid sloshes around and splashes out of the open top. Haymitch collapses onto the sofa, shaking with drunkenness.

"Um… Haymitch?" I say softly. The man rolls over, and I know he's not going to be much help the second I look into his eyes.

"Yes?" he asks, annoyed.

"You're our mentor, remember?"

"Kid, do you really think I can help you?" Haymitch says as he gets up for another drink.

I'm taken aback by this remark. "It's your job!"

"Well, if you insist…" Haymitch says, evidently pondering the thought. "Just watch the reapings."

Haymitch grabs the television remote and summons the holographic screen into existence. Thoughts race through my head faster than I could ever switch channels on this thing. My entire probability of winning comes from this guy. If he doesn't care at all about making sure I stay safe in the arena, I might as well sign my death warrant right now.

I hear more footsteps entering the train car. I roll over. Summer Nelson, District 12's depressing escort, doesn't look any less depressing having changed into a bright-orange suit.

"Where's Hopper?" I ask. I figure if I want an early advantage I might as well get to know my district partner a little better.

Summer dances around with her words as if she can't figure out how to explain. "He's… well, he's being rambunctious."

"Rambunctious?"

Summer makes a sour face. "You'll see."

Summer moves to the side with a start. "Look who's here."

Hopper Vigo starts into the train car, flanked by two peacekeepers like wingmen. His face is smeared with ice cream, juice, butter, and chocolate. I don't need an explanation to work out what must have gone down. He raided the peacekeepers' refrigerator and he's going to get in big trouble for it.

Upon further thought, he'll probably get off lightly. It's not like anyone can do anything serious to us now that we're tributes. The worst anyone can do is make our lives hell in the arena. More so than they will be by default, of course.

Here are the train rides! I didn't include all districts because I felt that would be repetitive and tedious to read. I figured including three tributes from a rich district, middle district, and poor district would give a rough idea of what the train rides are like for these tributes.

The little contest I did last chapter has ended, and TheRTA is the winner. Congrats to them :D

Thanks for all of your reviews! Stylists are next.

Question 1: What are Declan's two best weapons?

Question 2: What color suit does District 12's escort Summer wear on the train?