"Congratulations ZARA! You are now district 4's newest tribute! So, how do you feel?"

It's a stupid reporter shoving a mike in my face. I want to snarl at him, "Well, I've just been entered into a deadly contest in which I'll most likely die, or become a murderer, or BOTH. I may never see my family again and all of this is happening against my will. HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL?"

I know this won't help me, but I can't control my tongue to say something which will win the crowd over. I also don't want the whole of Panem to see me crying, I've been humiliated enough. So all I can do is run onto the train, wiping the tears from my face before the swear words start spilling out of my mouth.

Effie jumps on after me, and then the train starts moving. Effie tells me that I can do whatever I want, as long as I'm ready for lunch in a few hours. So I go to my room and collapse on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I want to cry, but I'm all teared out. Besides, I have to stay strong. Tears won't help me in the arena. I try to think of other things, but images of my nearing death keep creeping into my mind. Garter will probably be dancing around his room or something now, he'll be ecstatic. No wonder mother wants him as a son.

I decide to take a bath. Not because I need one, in fact I had one this morning (which feels like a year ago.) but mainly because the feel of the water calms me, reminds me of home. This is painful, but if I close my eyes I can imagine that I'm floating on the water, which I usually do to relax after a hard day of trying to learn to fish, (which I know I'll never be doing again.) and this is a lot less painful than thinking about what's going to happen to me.

As the warm water begins to fill with bubbles that smell like mint, I think about my father. Will he still be crying? I know mother won't, she'll be too busy telling everyone she lays her eyes on about her being the mother of a tribute. I sigh. My father must be so depressed, and he has no one to talk to about it. He doesn't really have any friends, (same as me.) and my mother would probably rip him to shreds if he started that conversation with her. I was usually the one father talked to about his problems, but now I'm the cause of them. To take my mind off father, I look around my compartment while I lather shampoo into my hair. The walls are a dark blue, with gold swirls painted on, and the carpet is a light cream. White furniture fills the room, and the biggest bed I have ever seen lays in the middle, with silk sheets. Everything seems so new and clean; it's something that I can barely imagine, even in district 4.

When I see that the clock is nearing 12:30, I get out and begin to dry myself, while stroking the silk sheets to soothe me, as I am still breathing heavily. I put my dress back on, but this time, I notice something jangling in the pocket. I delve my hand inside, and pull out a silver charm bracelet. I gasp. It's my lucky charm bracelet. I've had it since I was 7. It made of a fine silver thread, with different charms hanging of it: a fish, a flower, a shell, etc. in the middle of the charms hangs a heart shaped locket. In the heart is a photo of Father and Mantis. The only people I truly care about.

I'm confused on how it got there, and wonder if father slipped it into my pocket when we were saying goodbye. He must of, and his message couldn't be clearer: to wear it as my district token. I also know why he wants me to wear it. Not only will it give me luck, but it will remind me and the audience that tributes aren't just inanimate objects, pieces of the Capitol's games. They're not monsters. They're not killers. They can love.

Well I can anyway.

I dry my hair, tie it up, and then head to the dining compartment, my feet tripping a couple of times with the speed of the train. The room is a deep blood red, with a blindingly white carpet. The windows are nearly as big as the wall, and I wonder if anyone's fallen out of them before.

Effie is already there, wearing an orange tweed suit. (Which looks repulsive.) There's also a woman with huge bags under her eyes who's wearing a leather jacket, and a very good looking man with reddish golden hair and wearing a red t-shirt. He only looks a little older than me. They smile when they see me lurking in the doorway, and gesture me to sit down at the table, which is filled with dishes that I have never been lucky enough to set my eyes on, and now I get to try all of them! Effie isn't eating anything, the woman is sipping a drink which looks to be coffee, and the red haired man is slipping sugar cubes into his mouth. I think he's trying to look cool, but it just looks a little silly to be honest.

Garter strolls into the room, wearing a blue shirt and dark blue jeans. I hate to admit it, but it really compliments his brown hair. He gives a smile to Effie, and gives me another glare before sitting down. I wonder if he thinks I still care.

Now that we're both here, Effie gives us yet another beam, and begins to babble.

"Ok, so I bet you two are excited!" Garter nods enthusiastically, I just give a little shaky pretend nod that nobody notices, "so, I want to introduce you to your mentors, who will be your lifeline in the games. They will provide your gifts from sponsors, and be helping you get those sponsors. This is Skylar Respite," The tired looking woman gives us a little wave; "She won the 47th Games when she was 17." Effie then gives a smile to the red haired man, "And of course, I'm sure you know who this is-"

"Of course I know Finnick Odair!" cries out Garter. "Dude, that thing you did with the trident when the girl from 3 attacked you, that was amazing!" of course, I'm surprised I didn't recognise him earlier. It's Finnick, "the sex bomb."

I use quotation marks because the feelings I have for Finnick are yet another disagreement with everyone back at the district. I actually don't think that he's that attractive. I can't deny, he is good looking, but he just seems to me to be arrogant and shallow, which reminds me greatly of Garter. Always having sex with the people we loathe, chatting up every girl he sets eyes on. When I came in I couldn't fail to notice that he had given me a wink, which I had ignored. Still, he was only 14 when he won, so I guess he'll be useful as a mentor.

Garter is sucking up big time, obviously trying to be the mentors favourite. Well, two can play at that game. I finally manage to tame my tongue, and start babbling out praise and how amazing it is to be here. Skylar accepts her thanks with a big smile, Effie is bubbling, but Finnick doesn't say anything, he just watches me with his eyebrows raised. And it doesn't seem sexual.

We tuck into dinner, and I try everything I can lay my hands on. Even in the career districts, there's not really enough food. At least, not like this. There's duck and there's fruit and yogurt and peas and mash and potatoes and pudding and bread and soup and rice and sauces all the different colours of the rainbow, and loads of dishes that I can't even recognize, and have to ask Effie what they are before I try some of it.

"Oh!" cries out Effie, clapping her perfectly nail polished hand to her forehead. "I almost forgot! Although the Mentors are a team, they will be working separately with you for your private coaching lessons."

Garter immediately shifts closer to Finnick, and in a way I don't blame him. Victor she may be, but Skylar looks tired and weak, not the ideal person you want coaching you for survival. Still, she's better than some, and I think of Haymitch from district 12. Not one tribute from 12 has survived the first day since he was mentoring. So I shift towards the right, in Skylar's direction. At least she's not cocky like Finnick is. I expect that most of the training underneath his rules includes a lot of listening to his "stories of amazingness". So we're both utterly disappointed when Finnick says, "I want the fellow redhead."

I groan underneath my breath, and Garter doesn't bother to hide his annoyance. He shoots another glare my way as if it's my fault, before we're required to have a private talk with our mentors. I leave my unfinished ice cream with sad eyes, before I follow Finnick into the next compartment, which is a room filled with mirrors. (Probably so Finnick can look at himself all the time.)

As soon as he's closed the door behind us, Finnick proves his arrogance by saying, "Hey babe."

For a second, my stomach feels weird, but I quickly shake it out of myself and try to say with a smile, (which comes out more as a snap.) "Are we getting on with this or what?"

Finnick looks taken aback, but shrugs it off and quickly returns back to his usual grin as he sits down on one of the leather sofas. "Okay, okay. So, Zara-"

"I prefer Paylor." I interrupt. I then realise what I've done, so I smooth it over with a fake smile and a sickly sweet voice saying: "If you wouldn't mind."

Finnick laughs, but not meanly. "Okay then, Paylor, what are your talents?"

I think hard. I shrug.

"What are your hobbies?"

I think. Apart from being good at joking around, and the occasional sketching, there's nothing. I shrug.

"What are your tactics?"

I think. I shrug. I know this must be annoying, but I really can't think of anything. I had no idea that I was going to be chosen, was I? I feel stupid, a weakling, and I'm sure that Finnick will be regretting his choice.

He sighs, "You really need to give me something to work with here, babe."

I sniff, and cross my arms defensively. "Well….I can swim….but I doubt that'll help."

"Oh no, swimming can be very useful," says Finnick, "the arena could flood and you'd be the only one who can swim, so you'd survive." He pauses, "The capitol always seems to forget that." He says bitterly. I stare at him. What is he talking about?

He looks at me, and quickly gives his signature wink again. It's starting to irritate me, but I've got to get on his good side. I strain myself to try to blush, like I've seen hundreds of girls do before. It seems unfair to have to do this, because the Mentors should realise that when a person's been practically given a death sentence, they won't exactly be the happiest soul in Panem. But still, rules are rules. And I don't intend to break them.

Finnick grins back, and says, "Anything else?"

I rack my brains, "I've been fishing once-"

"That's good!"

"-With disastrous results."

"Oh. Not so good."

"I just get really nervous!" I cry. I know it won't matter how good I am, I need to get a backbone or I won't last 5 minutes in the arena.

Finnick thinks for a moment. "Well, nerves are something we can deal with. You have to-"

But Effie's chirpy voice cuts him off by telling me to go back to my compartment. I begin to stand up, give Finnick a fake smile, thinking that I've lied very well, until just when I'm about to close the door behind me.

I hear Finnick's voice saying, "By the way, a good tactic for you would be deceiving the others tributes. You're very good at acting." And he closes the door for me, leaving me to stand in shock.

He's seen right through me, I think grimly, while trying on the top I found in the wardrobe. If he can catch me out, who knows who else will? And what did he mean when he was talking about the Capitol? Plus, not once did he make a cocky remark in that private talk, apart from the "hey babe". Unless I'm mistaken, this isn't at all the Finnick Odair we see on TV.

I look out of my window, and all I can see is gravel. What district would we be in now? We must be close to the capitol; the journey takes less than a day.

My thoughts are interrupted by Effie calling me for dinner. I leave my hair down this time and walk to the dining compartment. This time I'm the last one there. Garter is already stuffing his face with Garlic bread, and just as I've sat down, he begins eating soup by the bowlful. I start to eat my chicken soup, when Effie says that we'll be watching the reapings in a few minutes, after we begin to talk tactics as a group. She then looks up from her tea and into my face, and gives a little squeal, making Skylar drop her spoon in shock.

"Zara, I never knew you were so pretty!" She cries. I frown a little bit at the use of my first name, but manage to curl my mouth into a smile and act as if I'm utterly flattered.

"You really think so?" I gush. Finnick gives the tiniest of snorts, one only I can hear.

"Oh yes, certainly!" exclaims Effie, "Your almost as good looking as Finnick!" she gives Finnick a little smile, and he replies with a roguish wink. Effie suddenly becomes red and flustered, and I get that weird feeling in my tummy again. I don't want to feel like this, but I guess if Finnick can charm anyone, he can charm me. I'm nothing special.

"You need to wear your hair down more often." Says Effie, her cheek colour finally going down. She's tries to embellish on this, but surprisingly Finnick cuts her off, suddenly sounding efficient.

"Ok, let's discuss tactics. Number one: don't get close to anyone. Perhaps join the careers, but no one else. Don't, I repeat DON'T. This may seem like a good idea, finding out all of their talents, but trust me: they'll find out yours. And then you're dead."

"Wouldn't matter if I told them, I'd still be able to kill them." Says Garter smugly, flexing his muscles. I splutter in my drink a bit, and he gives me a kick under the table.

"It's not just that," says Finnick, looking deadly serious. "Friends are more dangerous than enemies in these games. You can't kill friends, and it's harder when they die. And if you can't kill, then you can't win."

Garter and I nod.

"But yes, maybe, just MAYBE, joining the careers is ok," says Skylar. "They may help your odds of survival, plus they won't try to kill you at first."

"Yeah right", I mutter under my breath. Unfortunately, Garter hears me, and turns to me with a smirk.

"You're probably right, Paylor." He says.

"Right?" asks Effie, "right about what?"

"About the careers wanting to kill her." He answers. I feel my cheeks burning as heads turn my way. "She's so useless at everything she'd just be waste of space. They'd kill her instantly."

"Now, now," says Skylar disapprovingly, "that's a horrible thing to say-"

"You can't talk, Garter." I snarl, suddenly irritated. "One look at you and they'll mistake you for a gorilla. They'll spear you without a second thought and have you for dinner."

"Well, actually," pipes up Effie, "eating other tributes isn't exactly allowed in th-"but we're not listening to any of the adults anymore.

"You mean like people mistake you for in school?" he says. "Oh, and your friend, he resembles some kind of bug, no wonder he's called Mantis."

"Mantis?" says Skylar, sitting up on the sofa, "surely not, that's a name district 1 would give a child."

"And," begins Effie, "Zara looks nothing li-"

I jump out of my chair, knocking my glass of juice over and towering over Garter for once. With my hands clenched into fists, my inherited temper rising, I say as calmly as I can. "Don't you dare insult him! Keep talking like that, and I'll be the one to spear you myself!"

"Oh yeah?" says Garter mockingly, standing up as well, so once again I'm a midget. "I'll keep talking about that loser however I like! And like you'd be able to! You'd probably end up spearing yourself you're so stupid!"

"Well, if we sit down and return back to the talk of tactics," says Skylar, "you would both learn h-"

"Well then I'll kill you with my bare hands!" I shout. "And you're one to talk about losers! The way Shiya was hugging you, I was nearly sick she's so pathetic!"

Garter becomes red in the face, "Don't you talk about my girlfriend that way!"

"I'll keep talking about that loser however I like!" I say, mimicking him.

Garter knocks his third bowl of soup onto the floor. "Hey, that carpets just been cleaned!" protests Effie, but that's the least of our worries.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" He screams.

"NOT IF I KILL YOU FIRST!"

"Okay guys," says Skylar in a soothing voice, "let's all calm down, an-"

"YOU'LL NEVER GET YOUR HANDS ON WEAPONS-"

"THEN I'LL MAKE SURE TO RIP YOUR THROUGHT OUT WITH MY TEETH, I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DIE, AS LONG AS IT'S AS PAINFUL AS POSSIBLE!"

"Now come on," says Effie, looking horrified at our outbursts, "this isn't in the spirit of the games! Let's stop, a-"

He shoves me. "I'LL SLIT YOUR STOMACH OPEN AND THEN EVERYONE WILL CHEER, THEY HATE YOUR GUTS ANYWAY-"

I shove him back, right into the table, surprising everyone with my strength. "YEAH RIGHT, THEY HATE YOU MORE, THERE JUST AFRAID TO SAY SO BECAUSE YOU'RE A SAVAGE LITTLE ******, WHO HAS NO LIFE AND NO REAL FRIENDS-"

"Paylor, don't use that language. Stop this nonsense no-"

"YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN SUCH A ******* LIER, PAYLOR! NO ONE LIKES YOU, NOT EVEN YOUR OWN MOTHER! SHE'S ALWAYS LIKED ME BETTER!"

"AND THAT'S SUPPOSED TO UPSET ME?" I give a cruel laugh, "AND I'M GUESSING YOU LIKE HER TOO? BECAUSE YOU CAN HAVE HER AS A MOTHER! SHE'S JUST AS CLUELESS AS YOU-"

"CLUELESS? LOOK WHO'S TALKING PAYLOR! YOU AND YOUR STUPID EXCUSE FOR A FATHER, YOU BOTH-"

I slap him, and Effie gives a shriek. Our shout are being heard all over the train, we can hear the commotion and whispers outside the door, but I don't care. I just want to cause Garter as much pain as possible. I can see by his face, which has become thunder, that he is thinking the same thing.

"THAT'S IT!" He screams, "I DON'T EVEN CARE IF IT'S ILLEGAL, I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!" He punches me. He tries to get me on the face, but I leap sideways, so he just catches me on the arm, creating a bruise to match the one on his cheek.

"FINE! I'LL MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY AND MURDER YOU, GET RID OF YOU FOR GOOD, YOU ****, YOU ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING *******!-"

"Seriously guys, stop this now, we're going to get into trouble-"

"I'LL BEAT YOU TO DEATH YOU LITTLE *****-"

"The guards might come if you two don't stop this nonsense at on-"

"I'LL ******* KILL YOU, YOU ****-"

"Just cut it out gu-"

"YOU ****!"

"YOU ********!"

"Stop it ple-"

"YOUR WHOLE LIFE IS JUST A PIECE OF ****!"-

"Stop-"

"MORE LIKE YOURS, AND YOUR FACE!"

"YOU ******!

"YOU *******!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Finnick roars. He's just in time, 5 seconds later and Garter and I would have leapt on each other.

We both stop, panting, our throats now sore from yelling. We're a bit ashamed that we got carried away, and we've both realised that our arguments are now stupid. We can't kill each other now. At least not without weapons anyway.

What also silences me is the realization that I've had a full conversation and not made a joke once. What's happening to me? Have the games changed me already? Shocked at Finnick's yelling, we both sit down quickly, and while the main course is brought in, nothing is said. Or while we're eating the duck, apart from when Finnick says:

"You should show the gamemakers your strength, Paylor." Skylar elbows him in the ribs.

No more is spoken until pudding has arrived. Effie puts down her spoon, and says, "well, now that we've all calmed down, let's get back onto tactics."

"Hmmm," mumbles Finnick, he looks up from his custard and turns to me and garter, and says, "I'm beginning to get the teeniest-just the teeniest-impression that you two don't like each other very much."

Skylar smiles, but Garter and I cry, "GOD YES!" in unison. We regret saying this straight afterwards, and brace ourselves for a lecture on "district spirit" and "the happiness of the hunger games". But to our uttermost surprise, our mentors appear to be smiling.

"This is good." Says Skylar.

"Huh? How is this good?" asks Effie, looking utterly perplexed. She obviously wanted to rant about the reasons above.

"It's good because of the reasons we said earlier." Finnick explains to the 3 of us. "Usually the tributes from the same district are civil with each other. Some are even friends, some family. That makes it harder to kill them. Since you both hate the others guts, you won't mind them dying. That increases your chances of coming home."

"Won't mind?" says Garter. "I'd love it." I stick my middle finger up at him.

"But that's not the spirit of the games!" says Effie, looking at us with confusion, "won't everyone back at their home hate them if one of them kills the other?"

"Yes, but that's the price you have to pay if you want to survive." Says Finnick grimly. The Finnick from before has completely disappeared. Why does he keep changing? I think. Which one is the real him?

"The best we can hope for is that someone from another district kills one of them before the other has a chance to." Sighs Skylar.

This is complete news to Effie, which is surprising because she's been an escort in the games for as long as I can remember. I wonder if any of the capitol helpers know what's really going on, what they've helped to create. It would explain a lot if they didn't.

What Skylar has said is horrible because the majority of us know it's true. That is the best we can hope for. It must be so horrible for a mentor, having to meet two innocent children, knowing that in a few weeks; at least one will be dead. But still, it's worse to be a tribute.

"But we can help make sure that they'll get lots of sponsors to help them survive for as long as possible." Finishes Skylar.

"Yes!" exclaims Effie, suddenly back on track, "we need to make sure that you win over the crowd at the opening ceremonies!"

"They look good enough." Says Skylar, "apart from those bruises."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Says Finnick quietly. When our heads turn to him in confusion he explains, "The bruises give you an edge. Shows the sponsors that you're here to fight."

"You know what, he's right!" cries Effie, the famous smile back on her face. "And as for looks, I'd say they definatly qualify. Haven't seen tributes like them for a while." She gives us a thoughtful stare.

"In fact, let me have a good look at both of you." And she gestures me and Garter to stand up. We both stand there awkwardly, while she circles us, flipping my hair this way and that, tilting our faces to an angle. I exchange a glance with Finnick, and see that he's laughing at the fact that we both look so uncomfortable. He can't really blame us, considering I don't think that I'm pretty, so I don't bother with looks. Of course, Garter thinks he's gorgeous, but he's a boy, so he's not obsessed with looking nice either.

Once she's done, Effie sits back down with a huge smile on her face. "There both gorgeous!" she cries. Garter and I look to the other in disbelief. Garter has been calling me ugly since the day we met, and vice versa, so it's odd to hear the exact opposite being said about us.

"Maybe once Havens through with them we'll have the best looking tributes this year!" says Skylar with a smile. This Havens person must be my stylist.

"Unless I'm standing next to them of course." Says Finnick with a wink at me. I wish he'd stop doing that; the feeling in my tummy I get every time is enough to bring up my dinner. The table laughs at his joke, (completely forgetting the argument that's just happened.) me straining my mouth to curl up into a smile. There's the Finnick we all know and love.

But of course we're not laughing while we watch the reapings. It's horrible, having to watch other kids, some younger than me, suffer the same shock I did, and realising that all of these people have to die if you want to live. The careers look nervous, but that's nothing to how the others are. I see that no one volunteers this year, not even district 2 citizens. I guess last year's arena (a bleak murky place with poisonous air, vicious rabid animals, and nothing to drink except the water from the swamp, which you would either fall into or be dragged in by the mutated fish within It.) put them off.

I try to remember the tributes faces, as they walk up to the stages covered in ribbons, sizing each one up to see who will be my biggest opponent. I know I don't stand a chance in these games, but there's no point in not trying:

The tributes from 1&2 are tall and deadly looking: the girls seem sly and conniving, and the boy's seem huge beefy monsters. The boy from 3 is also tall, but lanky, so he looks as if a simple flick could snap him in two. The girl from 3 has blonde hair and freckles, and is a little on the chubby side, but all of that is hidden behind the fact that she looks absolutely petrified. No, that's putting it mildly. She's clinging onto her friends, screaming and wailing, so the peacekeepers have to practically drag her to the stage.

Then district 4 comes up. You see me trip, which would usually get a little laugh from the commentators, but I doubt they've got so much as a chuckle left from their hysterics at the blonde girl. They do spend a lot of time talking about my father though, and the scene of him struggling to get to me is replayed again and again. Once it's over, I look down into my hands to see that I've turned my napkin into shreds. I wonder how my father will react to this. Hopefully someone will have enough empathy to comfort him, since my mother obviously won't.

You see Garter walking up with a smirk, and then that's it. The last I'll see of District 4.

In district 5, the girl is shaking, the boy squeaking. 6 is bad. There's a 16 year old boy, but there's also a 12 year old girl. I hear the crowd groan, and agree with them. It's unfair, they aren't even teenagers yet, and they still have to play these games. Surprisingly though, the girl seems the least scared. She's walking to the stage, keeping her strides big to stop her knee's from knocking, her fist clenched. I hear Effie tut.

The other tributes flash past me, apart from a beefy boy with dark skin from 9, and a girl with red hair who bursts into tears in 11.

But it's 12 that's horrible. I know that both tributes will die, but that's not what shocks me. The girl who's picked is 17, but is crying, but that's not what shocks me. The boy who's picked is only 14, but that's not what shocks me.

What shocks me is the fact that the boy who is picked is mentally disabled. The commenters say that he has the mental age of 7.

7. He's been placed in these games and he's only 7.

The crowd goes crazy at the horror of it all. The boy is smiling, and I don't think he even knows what's going on, which makes the whole thing worse. I look around the train compartment and see Skylar looking horrified; Effie's near tears. And yet Finnick's expression is unreadable. Apart from his eyes. There's something in them, something that scares me. Fire.

There's something else too. A sense of….relation. Like he's been there before. I don't know how he has; it's not very likely that he's had a "night" with a mad person. Not when he's got those rich, famous capitol citizens begging at his feet.

While the screen shows the Peacekeeper's attempt to calm the crowd-which isn't hard, since 12 is such a small district-I think about the whole situation with my mouth open in shock. The brutality of it. The in-humanity of it. Just a few doors from me, is the poor boy. Does his still not know what's going on? Will he still have that smile on his face at the thought of going to the capitol? The thought that soon the smile will be wiped off his face with a knife, is enough to reduce me to tears.

I'm not hungry anymore. All I know is that I have to get out of here. I don't want to look at this boy. It's sick. I jump up, knocking my drink over again, and run from the room, not hearing the worried cries of my name behind me.

I get into my compartment, lay face down on my pillow, which will muffle my voice, and scream. I'm not just a part of the games anymore. I'm a part of this sick, twisted world where innocent 7 year olds are being punished by death for what our ancestors did. Why doesn't the President do something about this? He certainly has the authority to. Does he not care at all about this boy? Or is he just as sick and as twisted as Panem? Wait, what am I saying? He must be. He rules it.

The room goes fuzzy; the train suddenly feels crowded, filled with tributes and obnoxious Capitol citizens. The room makes me dizzy. All everything does is remind me of the Capitol, on how all of us but one are going to die. And of course the victor won't be the district 12 boy.

Effie taps on my door, but I cry at her to leave me alone. I put my hands over my ears trying to block out her voice, and the sound of the train that's taking me to my doom. But the walls seem to be closing in on me. I'm going mad, and I don't care. Mad people don't get special treatment; I've just seen proof of that.

I finally fall asleep, but the boy from 12 haunts my nightmares, so when I wake up in the dead of night, I'm sweating and shaking. I then realise that we've stopped. Why? Are we there already? Surely not, I can't see any buildings through the window. I realise that I have to get out. All I know now is that I need to get off this train, and now.

I jump out of the bed, with my clothes still on, and run from my compartment. There are people in the corridor, whispering about running out of fuel. This will give me enough time.

And before you ask, I'm not making a break for it, I just need some air, and I need to get off this train, even if it's just for a minute. I wouldn't get far anyway; I'm in my slippers for crying out loud. I just need to get away from the people I'm going to have to kill if I want to survive.

I push past everyone, ignoring their instructions to get back to bed. I feel people pulling my arm, pushing me back, hear them calling guards, but they just blur past me, everything blurs past me, the windows, the paintings, the doors as I make my way to the exit. The train is becoming stuffy with all this movement, but it just makes me want to get out of here more. "Need some air." I mumble. This calms people down, but doesn't stop them from calling the guards.

I reach the exit, pull it open, and leap outside. The cool air hits me immediately and the sky is pitch black and filled with twinkling stars. I can see the candy coloured buildings of the Capitol, but they're just a tiny speck of dust in the horizon. Apart from that there's nothing I can see but trees filled with ripe fruit, and grass which reaches up to my knees. I step onto the bit where it hasn't grown as much, and it's dewy underneath my feet.

I sense someone jumping off behind me, and I know it's a guard to haul me back inside. But I don't mind, I've only been out here a few seconds and I'm already relaxed and feeling better. As I feel a hand grasp my arm, I see a patch of dandelions, and know that things are going to be ok. Well, as ok as things can get. As I'm being pulled to the train, I hear a noise over the sound of the crickets a few yards away, and turn to look.

It's a boy who looks a little older than me, with floppy brown hair and eyes, who's also being pulled back inside. He doesn't look wildly dressed so I'm guessing that he must be a tribute, although I can't remember which district he's from. I wonder if he's feeling the same way I am.

Just before I'm tugged onto the train, the boy turns and catches my eye. And he gives me a tiny smile.

Sorry I took forever to write this chapter! But this chapters a lot longer than the other two, so hopefully that will make up for it!

Btw, sorry if I've made any mistakes :s So anyway...we've finally met Jed! YAY! oh, and another note: even though Paylor doesn't like Finnick, don't get the wrong message. I LOVE Finnick, he's actually my favourite character, apart from Thresh. Anyway, the next chapter will be in about a week or two, becuase i've been really busy lately, so stay tuned! it's about to get a lot more exciting! So please read and review, and share this story with your friends! :3

Love Lucy