I sat at the foot of my bed, stationary and frozen. My limbs were numb. I gripped onto the sheets brusquely.

The train ride would only be about twelve hours, so we'd be in the Capitol by early morning tomorrow. Very early morning.

I looked at myself in a mirror beside my bed, looking at my profile. I was fixable, like Cashmere had told me during our talk. She said I was very manipulative. But they probably won't change my hair much.

I looked at the new change of clothes I had on. High waisted, navy blue shorts paired with a billowy white t-shirt was one of the few comfortable things I found. The rest was Capitol wear. I scratched my arm as I studied myself, trying to figure out what my stylists would do to me when I arrived. Would I be unrecognizable? Or would I be too recognizable?

Juniper would love a makeover, I thought, smiling. Suddenly, my heart dropped to my stomach. Juniper. I wondered how she was. How she was…coping.

I jumped at the sound of a knock on my door. Suddenly, I hear Demetrius's voice.

"Hey. Cornelia told me to tell you dinner is in half an hour."

I shuffle uncomfortably on the foreign bed. I muster a quiet "Okay." I don't hear steps, however, leaving me to my own thoughts. As I suspected, he's still at my door.

"We need to talk." He prompted. I went to my door, opening it halfway.

"There's nothing to talk about," I reply, looking up at him. He had changed as well, into a simple grey t-shirt and jeans. His hair was a mess, as always. He sighed.

"Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot in the elevator-"

"Oh, in the elevator?" I interrupt. "I thought we got off on the wrong foot the day you cut an inch off of one of my ponytails in First year."

He laughs. "You still remember that?"

"Yes. And everything on." I spat, then attempted to slam the door. I can't because he sticks his foot in between.

"Look. Just wanna talk strategy, is all." He replies to my dig. I hesitate.

"Fine." I grumble, stepping out of my room. We walk to the same room where Cashmere and I had our discussion. We talked a little while longer after the knife incident, and she told me about her Games. She said she would coach me more in depth when we arrived at the Capitol. She seemed confident in me.

"What happened to the door?" Demetrius asked aloud. I turn back, seeing him gesture to the tattered Capitol seal. I shrug.

"I have absolutely no idea," I lied. He nods, and we take a seat across from each other, choosing the wicker sofas. I put my feet up. He leans back casually. Beside us, a forest landscape whizzes by us.

"So…"

"The deal is off." I say, eyes still on the outside world.

"So I've noticed," He replies, and I feel his eyes on me. "May I ask why?"

"Because I've ruled out the possibilities. I've done the odds. And you're not in them." I turn to face him. "Plus, how long could we pretend we were in love, let alone pretend we even liked each other?"

He doesn't answer.

"Exactly. You and I know that it wouldn't have worked. We have no history. We have no chemistry. We have no future." I flip my hair back, adding, "So our deal is off."

"Now riddle me this," He replies, leaning forward, "How are you going to survive?"

"I'll get sponsors." I reply hastily, still not letting him in on my secret. He scoffs.

"Anyone can get sponsors."

"Look at me," I say sarcastically, "I am much prettier than you. If I get a good stylist, sponsors will be lining up from around the block for me."

He rolls his eyes. "That's nice and all, but let's state the facts. I'm trained. You're not." He leans back again, arms propped against the back of his wicker sofa. "All the sponsors in the world won't save you from other kids like me."

I gulped subtly. He had a point. Demetrius had been training since First Year. He was taken from the normal Fourth year class and transferred to the Advanced class- with already eligible trainees- and has even graduated to private study at Seventh year. He was strong, and could lift like crazy. He was fast- but not the fastest- as he was in track for short distance. I'd sat in during training, and I had seen what he could do with a sword. I blinked as I remembered him slicing up dummies in the Training Gym. This boy was a killing machine.

"Well," I say, putting my feet down on the ground, "We have time to train."

"A few days?" He laughed. "Enlighten me. What could you possibly learn to do in a few days?"

I grinned. I imagined cutting up a dummy in a cleaner and faster way than he ever did, only with a small knife. "Don't you worry about that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I sensing some secrecy here?"

"Hmph," I scoff, leaning back. "No secrecy. But I think I've established the fact that I am determined on coming home."

"Oh,'' He said slowly, with some sarcasm as he crossed his legs. "So the District One team has officially called sides?"

"We were never a team, dear." I correct him, crossing my legs as well. I lean forward. "And yes."

"So, when the time comes," He mused, rubbing his chin, "Will you join the Career group with me?"

My heart skips a bit. I had overlooked that detail. The careers held the highest percentage of winning in the history of the games. They were the trained ones. They were the feared ones.

"If it gets me to the end, I will." I answer defiantly. He chuckles breathily.

"Alright, Miss Snow," He said sarcastically, standing up. "It seems like you have this all covered, secrets and all."

I shrugged, standing as well. He crossed his arms, grinning.

"Well, if that's all we have to say to each other…?"

I nod. "I'll see you at the opening ceremonies," I joke acidly. He laughs in retaliation. He begins to walk away, but stops at the frame of the door. He turns back to speak.

"Just remember you're not the only one with secrets."

With that, the door closed behind him. I wonder what he could mean by that.

I shudder, thinking the worst he could have up his sleeve as I made my way to the dining car.