.

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me.

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating.

Griff Forden, District Three

He can't hurt you. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt you.

Through blurry eyes, I manage to look at the trainer once more. My tummy's stopped quivering, though my hands are shaking like mad.

"Are you ready to try again, kid?" he sighs. "It's just a minor scrape."

"Minor scrape?" I repeat, my voice wavering. My eyes locked on his, I hold out my hand in pain. The slice mark, from the base of my thumb extending to my wrist, is still open like an envelope. Crimson blood beads at the wound. "This is no minor scrape, it's- it's-"

I falter for a moment, noticing two boys staring at me and smiling, too. One has an oval-shaped head, and the other has this pale face that seems so happy. And they're both watching me.

I straighten my spine, feeling the need to be tough. "Um, if I get a bandage, I think I could be fine," I whisper.

A smile spreads across his face like jam or butter on toast. "There's a tough guy," he comments, reaching into a small black box that lies on a table. As he applies some cream to my wound, which feels weird but doesn't hurt, he mutters something to me. "I like you, kid, so I'll give you a nugget of advice. Ally with those two, they'll be the kids to save your sorry bottom."

I look at him in fascination. Bottom of what, a boat? And how can the bottom of a boat be sorry? This guy's not the brightest, clearly.

He pats on a bandage and winks at me, ushering with a dismissive flap of his hand. I glance back over at the two boys, my stomach tightening. But before I have a chance to do anything…

"Hi, I'm Braxton, and this is Cade. Would you like to be our ally?"

I look up in amazement at the rather tall dark-haired boy and his beaming sidekick. "You're like a superhero!" I mutter, gaze darting between the two. Honestly, slap on a couple of capes and they'd be like Wonderman and Superwoman!

"I- I am?" Braxton looks confused, but it's something I've grown used to. My mom used to tell me that other peoples' brains processed words differently than mine did, so I've sort of learned just to smile and nod dumbly whenever it happens. Because, contrary to what others think, I'm quite bright, just not the best with my language. And, my mother said, my mind is kind of scatter-brained, whatever that means. Whenever she said it, I thought of a brain exploding, but I don't think that's what she meant.

"Superheroes," I repeat. "Did you not just hear me?"

"We're superheroes, Braxton," Cade raises his eyebrows, his tone filled with mirth. "We're here to save him."

"Ah," Braxton nods, closing his eyes briefly. "I get it, I think."

"Anyways, an answer would be nice?" Cade turns to me.

What was the question- oh, they wanted to be allies, I think.

"Um, okay," I shrug, idly scratching my jaw. "What do allies do, exactly?"

"Didn't your mentor go over it with you, Griff?" Braxton frowns slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The skin between them wrinkles, like an elderly man.

"You look old," I murmur, trying hard to contain a chuckle.

Instead of looking offended, like I'd sort of expected he'd react, he straightens the collar of his training suit and smiles. "I'm fifteen, thank you very much. It must be an honor to you, a twelve year old or whatever, that I'd want to be your ally, right?" He winks.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fourteen?" I giggle.

"You're older than me?" Cade seems really surprised. He glances over at Braxton. "Dude, he's… he's fourteen!"

"Oh, we both thought you were twelve!" Braxton chuckles, shaking his head and beaming.

"You've said that," I say awkwardly, lacing my fingers in each other. "Let's see here, I've been on this planet for ten years, plus two, plus, um, two, so that equals fourteen. Right?"

Cade raises an eyebrow, like he's confused, but Braxton simply shakes his head once more, his bright grin never fading. "It's fine, man. We'll take your word for it."

I start to say something, but don't. Why should I burden him further, anyways?

"So what's first on our agenda?" Cade asks, his voice light and vowels stretched.

"Survival," Braxton says immediately, claiming his role as leader of our pack. Not that I mind, I've always been kind of submissive when it comes to leadership but loud and bodacious in many, many other ways. Personality, for example.

"I'm cool with that," I chirp. "I don't want to be around silvery knives and-" I stop briefly, glancing over to a knife station. One glimmering one shaped like a rectangle catches my eye. It looks familiar, like… like a butcher's knife! "-oh, have you guys ever been to a butcher's shop? They're so ugly, those red hunks of meat draped around like prizes!" I shudder.

"What?" Both of the boys looks confused.

My brow crinkles up in confusion. "A butcher shop, haven't you two ever been to one?" Butcher shop, it sort of sounds like 'boot sure'. I giggle lightly as Cade scratches his head.

"I guess," Cade replies, still dumbfounded. "But I don't see how we got to this point in our conversation."

"It's fine, Cade," Braxton whispers to him, as if that'll cover up his words. He turns back to me, a winsome smile on his lips, and asks, "So, Griff Forden, shall we mosey on over to the edible plant station?"

I nod, beaming. "We shall!"

With my new alliance, we'll be able to do anything!

Tethys Acosta, District Eight

Sliding my hands along the cool surface of the spear, I gauge its heaviness in my hands as I peek out from under my lashes at the girl from Ten. She's right next to me, biting her lip and clenching her fists as she tries out good ways to hold the thing.

She'd be a good ally- I mean, if she wanted an ally. I'm sure I could find out.

The reason I want her, though, is the fact that she's so concealed and masked, barely showing her emotions. Half the time whenever I see her, her poker face is completely blank, devoid of any human emotions. She's almost like a robot. A cool robot, though. Don't get me wrong. But aside from that, she's completely average, not overly pretty or ugly and a good medium height. It's appealing, I admit.

I peer at her again discreetly as her arm extends forward, jetting the spear about eight or nine feet in front of her before it clatters loudly along the floor. In frustration, she steps back, brown hair swinging, but her large eyes move elsewhere. They glance over to me.

Time to make a move.

I slide over to her, a winning smirk plastered firmly onto my face. "Hello," I greet her. "My name is Tethys, and you are?"

She looks down her nose at me for a second. Almost as if she's… considering something. "My name is Shael," she replies in a voice that is perfect average- very feminine with a hint of gruffness and stretched vowels. Yep, that's District Ten for you.

I offer up a smile, a real one this time. "I noticed you're training alone."

"Um, yeah." She jabs a thumb to the spear, a hint of annoyance evident in her tone. "Do you really think anybody would want to ally with me when I throw like that?" She shakes her head. "I suck at weapons."

"Hey, hey, now." I shake my head, holding up a hand. "You don't suck at weapons, trust me on this. Half the people here have never held, say, a knife in their lives." I discreetly point to the girl from Seven, whose plump, pale fingers are turning over a small knife in discomfort. "See?"

Shael scoffs slightly, her nose wrinkled. "Cute, kid," she mutters, "but I have to go off and practice. I don't need some twelve year old hanging all over me."

Interesting how she comes off as rude; could this be a mask, like I predicted? I'll have to get her to open up to me some more.

I sidle up near her, pretending to observe the spears as she does. "You're from District Ten, right?" I play dumb.

"Yeah."

"Have I got the weapon for you." I smirk, grabbing her hand – despite handling all these weapons, it's cold to the touch – and practically drag her over to the dagger station. "It's simple and easy to handle, yet effective."

I know she'll love the daggers, and will probably be good at them as well. Sure, it's another threat on my back, but she'll trust me after this. I have a feeling that her personality's not the strongest, unless her masked personality is a cover for a bodacious, vivacious persona.

Shael's upper lip curls as she runs her hand over a dagger. "What is this?" she hisses.

"It's a dagger." I smile.

Her amber eyes flicker over to me in confusion as she turns it over and over. "Um, how do you use it?"

I guide her over to a trainer and watch in slight triumph as he teaches her how to maneuver. She'd be a good ally, for sure.

But I have to watch my mouth and what I say. Nobody is to be trusted here. Last night I nearly ran my mouth off with Cayley, telling her all about the kids from Twelve, from what I'd observed. She must've gotten suspicious, because the look I got from her was more than curious. It was somewhat accusatory.

Shael briefly finishes up the lesson with a small grin toying with her thin pink lips. Once her gaze falls upon me, though, her brown eyes harden a bit, and her mouth is set in a straight line. I offer her a smile, but it probably looks more like a smirk.

"Well, how did it go?" I say.

She straightens her spine, lips pressing together. "Fine."

"I saw you, you know. You don't have to be so defensive."

An exhale. And then, "I suppose you're right. What's your name again, Tethys?"

"You're not wrong!" I take her arm, which she flinches just a bit to. "Come on, Shael. Don't you want to, uh, open your heart out to somebody… somebody like me?" I waggle my eyebrows devilishly.

Shael smiles uneasily, before blurting out a lame excuse. "I… I have to go train, Tethys."

"That is why we're here, isn't it?" I say. "Come on, Shael. An alliance wouldn't be too bad, would it?"

I can almost see the cogs in her twisted, complex mind turning as she stares uneasily at me. "I guess you're right," she says, voice blunt and blatant. "You're not going to stab me in the back or anything, right?"

Shael says it like a joke, but there's a grain of truth in it. I scoff, shaking my head like the notion would never cross my mind. "We're allies, now, Shael. That idea is so not my kind of game." I look her right in her amber-flecked brown eyes, long black lashes framing them. She's barely taller than me, which is saying something, since I'm pretty tall. "Obviously."

Together, arm in arm, we stride across the floor of the training arena. I spot Cayley talking it up with the girl from Twelve, just like I advised. Her smile is frozen, obviously uncomfortable. A quick peek at the blond tells me she's feeling the same way. They're not having too much success.

But who am I to care, really? All my life I've focused on my own survival, and where would I be if I gave my heart out to every other person in the room?

Maysa Barric, District Nine

"Tributes, you have five minutes left of training."

"Five minutes, Maysa, time to show us what you can do!"

I grit my teeth, clutching the handle of the scythe. Maya's bubbly, annoying, but the only reason I'm keeping her around is that I feel like she won't toss one of her precious knives in my back. Ezra's useless baggage, a tall boy with endless eyes who clings to her shadow. He claims he's good at maces. I've yet to see that happen.

Maya shouts out another encouraging cheer and I scowl at her. A friendly grin is all I get in response. God, she just grinds on and on, doesn't she?

The dummy's right there. I eye it up, not focusing on the hazy image of the trainer in the background but rather the tanned body, nicked already with scratches from blades.

Letting loose a battle cry, I surge forward.

My scythe sinks into the fake flesh of the mannequin before I know what's happening. Adrenaline courses through me. I slash out again, again, blinded by the blood pounding behind my eyes. A flurry of reddish plastic shards erupts as I strike a fatal vein.

Pound, pound, pound, again, again, again.

For Zeta.

"Maysa!" Maya's lilting voice cuts through my attack. "I think he's had enough, Mays!"

Mays. Even her small nickname for me is irritating. I turn to her, plaster on a sickly sweet smile, and reply, "Yeah?"

"I said, the dummy's had enough. You beat it down." Her eyes sparkle.

I nod, allowing a lock of dark hair to slip out of my high hair bun. "And you're saying that I should stop training?"

She holds up her hands in defense. Ezra instinctively backs away. "Dude, chill. I'm just telling you to, you know, maybe move onto a new one?"

I sigh, nodding numbly. It's been like this ever since Zeta passed. I've been touchy, more alert to insults and the such. Six years of being like this and I still haven't adapted to this type of personality. I feel so trapped all of the time.

The trainer brings out another dummy, and I'm about to unleash another mini fury-attack on it when the monotone voice announces that it's time to head back up to our designated floors.

"Ah, a good training day." Maya nods briskly, looping her arm around Ezra's shoulders and loping off to the elevators. After a moment of watching the two, I follow, my steps shuffled.

I slide into an elevator separate from them, this one empty except for Haven from Twelve and the redhead from Three. They both offer me malicious looks as I get on, scowls prominent and their frowns deep. Is that what I look like? I wonder. A person whose eyebrows are her most striking feature simply because they're glaring constantly?

I step onto my floor, coming face to face with Olivander. I'm about to ask him why he chose to stand right in front of the elevator when he spits out question after question, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

He's definitely downed a bunch of caffeine and who knows what else. I weave past him to the sofas and chairs in front of the fireplace, cozying myself up to a pillow.

Roland arrives, munching on some carrot sticks and celery. He glances over at Olivander, and then at me. I try not to scowl at him, but it's become habit after so many years. Maybe I can try to break the habit, though, to try and become more pleasant. I'm sure Maya would-

No.

Am I just doing this for her, for Maya? If I win, Maya will have to lie cold, lifeless, sallow on the ground. As will Ezra, and the Careers, and every other single person. The odds aren't exactly stacked against me. There's a load of littler kids running around. But will I even be willing to kill?

Braxton arrives, bidding goodbye to his friend from Ten and sighing with content once he plops down on a loveseat.

"You're happy," I comment sourly.

"No, you can call me Braxton." The little devil winks and plucks a celery stick out of Roland's hands, who stands there still. "How was your day, Maysa? I saw you a couple of stations, even said hi. You got some allies, apparently?"

"Y-Y-You got allies, M-Maysa?" Olivander hums, his movements jittery and sporadic. "That's g-g-good for the a-arena, you know. P-Plenty more chances, y-y-you know."

"What's wrong with you?" Braxton asks in curiosity. Olivander gives him a withering look.

"He drank nine cups of coffee today, don't mind him." Roland rolls his eyes. "I think he was so nervous that we actually have a shot this year, he doesn't want to screw up."

"Sh-Shut up, Roland," hisses Olivander, the man folding his arms across his chest. "Y-Y-You're anxious too, a-admit it."

The curly-haired man sighs and plunks down on an ottoman, facing us. "Truth is, I am scared for you two," he says gruffly. "You'll have to endure some tough tributes this year. The Careers are already looking fierce, you know."

"Especially the girls," Braxton moans slightly, mashing his face into a pillow. His voice is muffled. "The girl from One looks like she's ready to murder somebody right at that very moment, the Two girl is constantly on her feet and handling a weapon, and Four is always gliding around. It's like she and her tridents are one."

"That's so poetic," I cringe slightly at Braxton's choices of words. "You know, I think I'm done with talking and being social for today, so I'm just gonna mosey over to my room?"

I arrive in my room and immediately throw myself onto the bed, my stomach tense and my mind spinning. It's going to be so hard to try and win, especially since even my mentor is frightened for me.

What will I have to do to win? What nightmares will I have to endure, nightmares that are worse than memories of Zeta?

Wraith Elvery, District Two

Hestia smiles warmly at me, gliding across the kitchen to pluck some tea bags out of the cupboard. "So, Wraith. Give me a play by play of your day."

I reach for a mug, the scalding water allowing steam to drift gently above it. I waft my hand over it for a moment, trying to cool it. "Well, in the morning, after the pancakes and fruit, we went down in the elevator. It seems like Eidra's already buddy-buddy with Carisa."

"That doesn't tend to happen much." Hestia wrinkles her nose, shutting the door quietly. "Are they genuine?"

"Who knows?" I sigh, blowing on the water. "All I really remember is that Merritt kept looking over at everybody, keeping tabs and stuff, and Juno obviously was the third wheel in terms of the girls."

"You all trained separately, then? With the exception of Eidra and Carisa?"

"No, Merritt and I sometimes trained together. Juno was by his side a bit of the time, but she basically tumbled from station to station. She didn't even have a schedule, really, just kind of breezed from the fire making to the maces to the poisons."

"Smart of her." Hestia examines a tea bag label before ripping it open and offering one to me. "So, Wraith, I want to know what you in particular achieved today."

A smile comes to my face. "I trained with a kopis, if that's what you're asking."

"How'd that work out for you?" She uses a spoon to stir her tea.

"It was fine. I learned some new techniques by observation and stuff. Oh, and I ran around on the running track as well, to stay fit."

"That's great, Wraith." Hestia smiles. "Any other things you picked up?"

I hesitate for a moment. The trainers all applauded and cheered and such whenever I landed a particularly tricky move, but I thought that I could have done better. I bite my lip and shake my head, staring into the seeping yellow and orange tea bag.

"Ah, well. You always have tomorrow, right?" Hestia shrugs, collecting her mug and moving off of the table, striding to the doorway that leads to the living room. She glances back, brown eyes searching. "Are you coming to chat with Helios and Eidra with me?"

"No, I'll be fine here, alone."

Hands wrapped around the warm ceramic of the mug, I sigh. Today was a day that I was supposed to shine. In my opinion, I did a four out of five, a nine out of ten. Room for improvement.

It's always been like that in my life, really. The trainers at the local gymnasiums were empathetic and passionate about what they were doing, and a couple were really invested in me and my ways of doing things. One, Hestia, even stepped out of her way to offer me advice, from a strong woman to a strong man. If I didn't wind up volunteering, becoming a trainer and helping other children would be something I should have considered.

But for me, it was all about the volunteering. While other kids, like Eidra in particular, thought of training as a fun sort of hobby – I know that she thinks like that because I noticed how she often skipped training lessons and rarely took them seriously – I was completely focused. My mind was always empty, except for the one spot of intelligence that proved I had enough brains to come here and volunteer.

It's not proving to come along exactly how I had imagined it, but I should think that with a bit more practice, it will come along nicely.

I sip down on the tangy tea and swish it around my mouth for a moment, savoring the lemony flavor. Muted voices can be heard in the living room, including Madre's wicked tone. I slide off of a chair and silently join the group.

"Wraith, you came to join us," Hestia says, smiling warmly. Her eyes are filled with kindness. Helios merely offers me a nod of his head, while Eidra barely looks my way.

"As I was saying – or shall I start from the beginning?" Madre sighs, her amber eyes flickering over to me. "Wraith, you want to hear about some of the other tributes?"

I bob my head, plopping down on an armchair and resting my mug of tea on an arm.

"Well, District One obviously looks like a threat to me, personally." Madre's high-pitched, screechy voice cuts through the air like a butter knife through bread. "Not so much the boy, as the girl. It's that look that she gives everyone, head bowed and looking out from under those eyelashes. Appealing, alluring, lethal."

A smile plays on my lips and I speak up. "The boy is just as much as a threat, Madre. You can never count anybody out."

Eidra nods, but her face is relatively blank. "Wraith is right. You can't. Annie Cresta, remember? Jamie Hill? Even Gingham Cleaver? They all hid in the shadows and when the time was right, they sprung, attacked, won. Anybody could do that."

Hestia chuckles, slapping Eidra lightly on her forearm. "Honey, I think you're stealing my job. Not that I mind, of course."

I raise an eyebrow. Hm. I thought Hestia liked working with me.

"Sorry, Hestia." Eidra murmurs her apology, scratching her head. "I'm just trying to offer some advice here and there, is all."

"Oh, Wraith and I were curious, by the way." My mentor offers Eidra an agreeable grin. "What's going on between you and Carisa?"

Eidra maintains a wonderful poker face. I tilt my head slightly. Interesting.

"You know, we've been training together, and… um…" A beam breaks free on her pink lips and her eyes gleam. "Well, she's really nice. A great friend, really, and I know, I know, we're not supposed to have friends, but seriously, I don't think she's a backstabbing sort at all, and, um, we keep each other in check, along with Juno, and it's just great, really!"

I can't help but laugh. And laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Because if Eidra thinks an attachment will get her somewhere, I'm afraid that she's dead wrong.

Cole Tenacity, District Eleven

"Never underestimate anybody."

Hudson's booming voice rings out throughout the balcony space, and I admit, it gives me a sort of chill. He's so persuasive and suave, and I know that he's already convinced Kiera just to go at it alone. Me, on the other hand, he's told to watch out for potential allies to manipulate. In his eyes, I'm a ladykiller, I guess.

"This is insane, these talks that you do, Hudson." Kiera's voice comes through as eerie and almost monotone. "So… reaching."

I nod my assent, making sure that Hudson sees.

"I'd like to fill you all in with more of my knowledge, but I think it's time for supper." He sighs, making it known that he really wants us to be filled with his intellect. Kind of arrogant, if you ask me. But who am I to say, really?

We stride off the balcony, me bringing up the rear. Our escort, Prius, plucks at a cushion, long brown eyelashes fluttering as he mutters about the hideous color choices. Hudson walks with a slight limp in his walk, a result of his surgically replaced foot. Kiera lurks along, the shadows under her eyes and ghostly pale skin making her seem odd.

That's all we are. Oddballs. Freaks.

The hulking kid who won't say a word, and the spiritual-looking girl with a tendency to shriek when she's upset.

I take a random seat at the table across from Hudson and smile in delight. There's a great – no, that would be an inappropriate word. There's a splendid, to-die-for smorgasbord of different savory foods.

"Dig in!" encourages Prius as he spoons himself a bowl of cream-colored soup.

Unsure of where to start, I focus on the dish in front of me. A honey-colored hunk of meat drizzled in a cream sauce, with a silver fork to the side. I stab a slab of the beefy substance and allow it to slide onto my plate.

"Brave boy." Prius nods. "Didn't have enough courage to try that stuff myself."

I eye up the meat warily before deciding he was just being a condescending fool. I grab a ceramic bowl containing some sort of fluffy pudding and start spooning some onto my plate.

It's a delicious meal. Kiera can't stop exclaiming over some fruity salad, and I'm in love with the pudding. It's so light, yet so fulfilling, and it tastes exactly like the marshmallows that were so many coins just for one, back in Eleven. Back when our family was so poor we could barely afford lettuce to gnaw on, and the pretentious children walked by like they owned the place.

Day after day, it was girls and their curls and their pretty colorful lollipops. The boys strolled by with their six inch rockets, pretending that they did a lot more than eject. You could tell that everybody thought they were better than us, the Tenacity family.

I sigh at the painful memory, swishing my spoon in my pudding and dragging it across the plate. It creates a sort of screeching noise, and Kiera shrieks, hands clapping over her ears.

"Don't do that!" she shouts. "It doesn't even sound musical!"

I stop immediately, eyes wide as I stare over at her. She's a different one, definitely, but what I don't understand is why she feels the need to screech. She could have at least told me to stop. I would have obeyed her.

"Are you alright?" Hudson asks her, his gaze set.

She shakes her head slightly, looking very frazzled. "That n-noise that Cole made… it was…. It was so loud and…"

"I'm sorry." I'm quick to apologize, wanting to go over and give her a hug or something.

"It's fine, Cole. You didn't know." Our mentor turns back to Kiera, muttering some soothing words to her.

I wander into the living room, stuffed to the brim with fancy foods and sugary drinks, and promptly collapse onto a couch. I stare at the high ceiling, and for once, my stomach is full.

It's a good feeling.

Prius comes in after me, his smile soft and affable. "Did you make any allies today?"

"No."

"Did you see anybody who might be a good ally for you, then?"

"No."

"Did you interact with anybody, Cole?" His voice is strained.

"Once."

"With whom?"

"A trainer."

Prius slaps his knee, glaring at me. "What the hell did you do all day, then, if you didn't talk to a single useful person?"

I stare at him, gaze unwavering. "Trainers help me train. I can win with training, you know."

"Allies could be helpful as well, could they not?" He narrows his blue eyes.

"Sure." I close my eyes somnolently. That food really left me feeling drowsy.

"And in the arena, they could be the ones to save your sorry bottom. Yes, they are the way to go, Cole, and you'll die if you don't have any, plain and simple." Prius seems happy with that last comment, and he leans back in his chair, folding his flabby arms across his chest.

I open my eyes just to roll them. Sure, I mouth, and they'll love me so much that they won't once consider backstabbing me.

Listening to the faint murmurs of Hudson and Kiera in the kitchen, I let loose a sigh as I allow my mind to wander. Would an ally really be beneficial? Or would it just cause me more pain?

I'm never one to give up on anything, so if I find it in my will to get an ally… then so be it.

Aspen Northwood, District Seven

A slight smile wanders onto my face as Brux enters, shadowed by Obsidian and Basil. "I'm enjoying these routine nightly talks," I joke as they all plop down.

Brux makes a face. "Very funny. I'm just here because Obsidian wants me to talk about my day."

My cheeks flush with blood. I accomplished little today, though whether it was because I was too frightened of the older, more esteemed kids or the fact that I stayed close to Brux's shadow, I don't know.

"Let's start with you, Aspen." No. "How was your day today? Find any allies?"

I fiddle with a short, thin lock of hair. "Um…" I stall for time, glancing around to anywhere but Basil's face, soon to be disappointed. "I… I practiced with hatchets and axes and machetes and stuff. Weapons."

"Yeah, so did every other kid within the room," Brux remarks bitterly. "He means personal progress, which I happened to excel at."

I wrinkle my nose at his sourness. "Why don't you tell them, then, if you're so confident that you did fine?" I snap.

He straightens his spine, sending me a vicious scowl. "Gladly," he spits out. Averting his gaze to Basil and Obsidian, he continues, "I learned a bunch of new techniques and even got in good with the guy from Four, who just happens to be the leader of the Career pack. So, yeah, I'd call that personal progress, Aspen."

I cross my arms. "You got into the Careers, then?"

His dramatic, emphasized glower falters a moment. "I never said that," Brux responds. "But Merritt and me aren't just acquaintances anymore. We taught each other the tricks and trades of our favorite weapons."

"Perfect," Obsidian says, a chuckle bubbling up in his throat. "So, Brux, you taught some random guy who could potentially deny your access into that alliance, you taught him techniques for your weapon?"

I smirk. Brux has just toppled off his high horse.

But just as soon as I make that assumption, he slimily slithers back on his high horse.

"He taught me how to use a pike," Brux says.

I watch in mild horror as Obsidian and Basil nod, content with this answer.

"Y-You two," I splutter, trying to maintain a shred of dignity, "Basil! Obsidian! He legitimately just said that he gave his tricks away! Now the guy from Four, Merritt or whatever, could go and tell his allies all about Brux!"

The three men seem to deflate, and I continue. "Furthermore, Brux, I don't know why you're so invested in that alliance." I try a scowl, though it feels more like a pout. "Chances are, it will self-destruct. Wouldn't you like to try and get an alliance of your own? To make friends that will-"

"See, that's where you go wrong, Aspen." Brux's strange turquoise-grey eyes ensnare me in their gaze. "One thing? You don't make friends in the arena. For you to get out, everyone will die. If you win, you'll watch me get hacked at with a mace!"

Brux is standing now, eyes bloodshot and wide, and his voice is constantly escalating to the point where it's a scream.

"You don't get it, do you?" he screeches, fingers curling up into fists. "Aspen, you're not even here to win, you're here to frigging make friends! I'm here to win, Aspen! I'm here to shoot people, to murder, to get the hell out of here!"

Obsidian places a hand on Brux's heaving chest, guiding him back to the couch. I shrink in my chair, feeling even smaller than the five foot two I stand at. Since when did wanting a friend become a bad thing?

And more importantly, why are we all screaming at each other?

"That was uncalled for." Basil speaks first, glaring at us.

"No, no, man!" Obsidian stands up, grinning goofily at his more responsible brother. "Let them yell, let them scream at each other. Let them all get it out before the arena, so they don't go completely psycho."

It takes everybody a while to realize that Obsidian is kidding, and from there, it's a bunch of good-natured groans and shoves.

"Ah, ah, ah. I'm serious, though, contrary to my brother." Basil wags a finger at Brux and me sternly. "I'd like to see you two get along, you hear?"

"I will. I'm sorry." I hang my head, another blush creeping onto my cheeks.

Brux looks over at me for a second. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

"I'm in, too." He sighs.

I look at Brux for a moment, my frown wavering. "I didn't mean to get so wound up. I guess I'm just overtired."

"Yeah, that's my excuse, too." He leeches off of my comment like the backboneless, dependent creature he is and my hands curl up into fists.

I sit numbly in the chair, not quite sure of what to do or say next. Surprising, since usually I'm that affable person who sparks a conversation. "Um," I begin, trying to keep the mood light- lighter than it was previously, anyways. "I think I'm just going to head to my room, alright?"

"See if I care." Brux shoots me a venomous, inimical scowl. I watch him for a while, staggering backwards, before I slip into the dark hallway and into my room.

I sit gingerly on the edge of the bed, eyes blurred with tears and fingers fiddling with the ring, my token. I can't do this. I'm not as strong as they all think.

Jamie and Willow, they're placing too much trust in me to come home. And… and I just can't. I won't. Chances are, I'll be going up against one of the bigger, more trained tributes, and… and they'll hear my cannon's blast ricochet off of the edges of the arena until it fades.

And that's what I will be, to Panem at least. Just another fallen cannon boom.

Carisa Lenette, District One

"I can't do this anymore, Soren."

His wide, haunted eyes stare at me, mouth parted in slight shock and confusion. I stand, glaring at him and crossing my arms. "I don't know why, Cary…"

"Really!" I snort. "You need a reason on why I loathe you?"

Soren's eyes are brimming with tears like the weak coward he is. "Cary, I never meant to… We were best friends!"

I flip my hair, offering a huffy sigh. "Soren, the past is in the past. Face it. I'm never going to forgive you, so why try?" I push past a mousy Avox to the drawers containing silverware. My arm shoots down and my hand fishes around for a utensil. It produces a knife, and I thrust it at Soren.

The scum looks surprised.

"Go on, do it now," I hiss, narrowing my eyes. "It's not like anybody will miss you, anyways, Soren. Nobody ever liked you. I don't blame them."

He gasps slightly, shrinking away from the knife. "I am so, I'm liked," he argues, voice strained and weak. "H-Halcyon Chae from District Six is my ally."

I wrinkle my nose. "The lost looking blond kid? He won't last past the bloodbath, you idiot. God, if you're actually going to go through with your plans to enter the arena, at least pick a decent kid who's not infested with lice and dumb as a fork!"

"He's smart, and he doesn't have-"

"You know what? I really don't care." I start striding to my bedroom, and I shove him to the side, my guts churning in disgust. But the boy follows me like a lost puppy.

I can only stare at him with a mixture of pure hatred and rage. Firstly, he has no business in coming here. This is my spotlight, my chance to shine. And he steals it away! He killed somebody precious to me, and he knows it. He knows how upset I was at the loss. And yet he fools himself by pretending to be oblivious and naïve to it all, when really he's the freaking mastermind that broke me.

Congratulations to him.

"Stop following me," I say, my voice wavering in sudden emotions. My eyes sting with salty tears and I blink them away, opting to glower at him instead. "You don't deserve to even look at me, Soren, just stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!"

Soren puffs his chest out in an unexpected change of attitude. "Cary, I did nothing wrong to you-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"You did nothing wrong?" I gasp. With trembling fingers I shove my hand into my pocket and withdraw the crumpled little bird figurine, looping the string on two fingers and swinging it in front of him like a pendulum. "Do you even recognize this bird? I know you do, you're the one who picked it out!"

His puffed chest is prompt to deflate, and he gazes at me with those hollow eyes once more. "I never meant to hurt her-"

"You charged into my house and pushed me down stairs." My words are blunt, razor-sharp. "You killed her. You know it."

Goosebumps creep across my skin. The reality of it all. I wanted her so much, and Soren cut her out of my life, just like that. He killed her. He killed her. He killed her…

She is gone.

My blood pounds in my ears, and it's all I can do to not slam him into a wall as I exit the room, trembling with rage. I may be livid, but I can control myself, unlike Soren.

And then there's Sheen, her pale face with ruddy cheeks sticking her nose into my business. She wobbles unsteadily, her eyes shifting. "Everything alright?" Her usually loud voice is softer.

"Yeah," I snap, whipping my head to the side. I see Teal, his buglike eyes wide. "Everything is fine and dandy and sugar candy, thanks for asking."

Instead of insulting me back, like I'd expected, her eyes cross and she giggles for a long moment, laughter pealing easily from her puffy lips. "Always my job to help my tribute, you know," she says in Teal's general direction.

Glancing at her in disgust, I storm to my room, slam the door, and stalk off to the window. My hands clench stiffly at my sides. My eyes graze over the flashing lights of the Capitol, and I shakily inhale and exhale to catch my breath.

He's going to be dead soon, anyways. You just have to outlast him, and maybe, just maybe, be the one to kill him.

I inhale, my eyes fluttering shut as soothing thoughts drift through my mind. Thoughts of vengeance, and of the sweet taste of revenge. I'm not usually too vindictive, but who wouldn't be, if you were allowed to sink a knife into the skin of the boy who killed your own loved one?

I open my eyes and my arm floats to the wide, glassy window. As if in a trance, my eyes gaze on as my fingertips trace circles on the cold glass and leave trails of cloudiness.

Moving closer to the large window, I hug my other arm tightly to my body and draw a small image. First just a circle, followed by a couple of lines to form a body.

I get more immersed in the simple drawing, voices crowding my head as I breathe heavier and heavier, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. Quickly, quickly, quickly draw. My left hand joins to draw on the masterpiece and my hands are fluttering about the glass, the smoothness of the material frosty under my touch.

Satisfied, I pull away.

There, on the window that's cloudy with my breath, lies the picture of a tall, scrappy boy with a hooked nose and a scowl, as the shimmering point of a fashionably leggy, smirking girl's lance sinks into his torso.

The window's image fades away, but my memory of it does not.

Shael Havern, District Ten

I watch as Cade, a smile playing on his thin pink lips with his tongue caught between them, carefully balances a card on the tops of three others. His card tower grows higher and higher, though the slightest exhale or jiggle of the table could send it all cascading down.

"Isn't that boring?" My voice cuts through the silence rather rudely. I jab a thumb at the simple tower. "It's gonna fall, you know."

The small boy offers me a knowledgeable smile. "That's half the fun, though, you know," he says, almost mimicking me. "Wondering when it's all going to come crashing down. Kinda fascinating, really, to think that something you worked on for so long could be destroyed with a little touch."

To prove his point, he reaches out a hand, finger protruding, and delicately bats the edge of a card in the middle away. A flurry of red, white, and blue cards collapses promptly.

I stare at the heap, rather sad all of a sudden. All his hard work…

No. It was his decision to wreck the card tower, wasn't it? I did nothing, nothing…

"Um," I begin, eyes flickering to him and to the pile of fallen cards. "I-I'm gonna take a shower, if Jamie or Eagle needs me. Alright?"

"Okay by me," Cade replies in a nonchalant voice, already focusing on creating another card tower. I take off at a brisk walk down to my room's private bathroom, but I make the mistake of looking back. There Cade sits, looking somewhat lonely and sullen.

No, I berate myself once more. He even said it was alright. Nothing wrong with taking a shower. Everybody wants voluptuous hair and clean skin, yeah?

I step into the bathroom, gently close the door behind me, and start running the water. By the time I slide into the shower stall and select showering options – a lavender scented mist to breeze about the area like a sauna, 89% hot water, rose scented water, waterfall-type shower jets to cascade down and gentle pink lights to strobe the area – I'm already hot to the touch and nearly wrinkly.

I sigh under the hot water and close my eyes briefly, melting under the warmth it brings. District Ten was a good, fine place to grow up, but luxuries like this were unheard of. Even the mayor lived in a meager household, and he didn't have four older brothers constantly slamming each other against walls and gradually tearing the place down.

What's changed since District Ten? Everything. Death has never been an opposing force in my life, but it's nearly unavoidable. My eyes slip open, squinting against the floral-scented waters that splash against me. I'm going up against the trained, the merciless, the cruel. And who am I?

The conflicted.

There's nothing redeeming about me, so I can't see what that boy, Tethys, saw in me. Maybe he thought I was more intimidating than I actually am, yeah. My appearance tends to have that effect on people. Fairly tall with muscle definition and a stern look on my face usually gives that impression.

But truthfully, I'm sure that he's more of a threat than I. He's cunning, sly for sure. That wicked smirk he wears with pride is evident. I'm surprised that he didn't go search the boy from Seven or Eleven, actually, because they're obviously thick and well-built. Bound to be good allies, with their eyes narrowed in malice and fists clenched.

But… but what if I am a good ally? What if I could be a force?

Do I just need to apply myself?

I shudder, shaking the thoughts off. I hold my hand under a dispenser and out squirts a shimmering, cold blob of apple-scented shampoo. I lather it into my thick hair, close my eyes once more.

Once my shower is finished and I'm curled up on the bench facing the window in a nubby blue robe, a knock sounds at my door.

"Come in?"

Eagle struts in, her puffy lips curved downwards in dissatisfaction as she glances me over. Her gaze shifts to the large picture window. "Looking at the lights, Shael?"

I nod.

"They remind you of District Ten, do they?" Her voice is suddenly softer than the crude tone it usually takes on. A sense of wistfulness washes over me. "The streetlamps at the markets, the lanterns you post on the shelves of the barns. We have lights too, they just don't know it."

"They're idiots," I say, immediately regretting my words.

But Eagle merely laughs harshly, her eyes hardened as they stare out into the endless Capitol. "You can say a lot of things about the Capitolites and our president."

I lace my fingers together, drawing my legs together. "I'm guessing you know more than me, having lived through the rebellion and all that."

"It was both the best and worst of times." Eagle wears a sour frown. "Best, because there was a faint glimmer of hope. Hope's more powerful than hatred, faith, and power combined, of course. Worst, because, well…. We lost, didn't we?"

"I wasn't old enough for my mind to process what was happening," I reply. "Most of my brothers, well, they were kind of marred."

"How so, marred?"

I shrug, gazing listlessly at the rows of sparkling lights and mysterious stars. "Violence is prevalent in the Havern family, now. There wasn't a day that went by that one of them gets shoved down a cistern or off of a tree."

"Their minds can't process what's happening even now." Eagle smiles faintly. She reaches up to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear, which is adorned with different jewels and earrings. I stare. I've never noticed that before.

"What's on your ear?" I ask, my mouth coming before my mind once more.

She touches her ear in faint surprise before lowering her hand and offering a surprisingly coy smile. "My mother," she says. "My mother was a fanatic about jewelry, mainly traditional District Ten jewelries. I got these to remind me of her."

As Eagle moves to leave the room, a small pang resounds in my heart. Her mother? Her family? I have Avery, Cora, Jericho, but even they distance themselves from me a bit. Not in a mean way, but enough to let me know that I have to work to truly capture them in friendship.

I wish I had somebody to care for that much…

A/N: Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day.

Sheesh. It's been what, over a month? I feel bad for this story and its readers. First, a two and a half week hiatus because of a trip, and now another month since I've been busy with school. Note to self, don't start any stories just before the summer rush! xD Especially since in A Shot in the Dark, updates came daily. Yikes. What a difference.

But, yes. Things should be picking up now. I should think that since the original shock of school's lifting off of me, and I'm getting more and more inspiration, I should be writing more and more. Yay for me, right? :33

Alright, as always, the poll has been posted on my profile to vote for your favorite tributes thus far ;) I suggest voting, just saying.

Oh, and on a sad note- I don't think I'll start TI until I get to at least eight chapters here. I want to make progress in this story before I start a new one. Hopefully, with the progress I'm planning on making, I should reach my deadline anyways. But yeah, feel free to start planning a tribute ;)

Alliances: Careers, Maysa+Maya+Ezra, Braxton+Cade+Griff, Tethys+Shael

Questions! :)

1. Thoughts on each of these POV's?

2. General thoughts on the tributes as of now (chartwise, in a love/like/neutral/dislike/hate form)?

3. Favorite five tributes and why?

4. General thoughts on the chapter?