Redson and I are led away from the Square to the Train Station, where two official guards are waiting to take us to the building in the Capitol where we will prepare for the Games. As we board the shiny silver train, Redson beckons me to the back of the long procession of Capitol people, including escorts, other guards, and the lady in the purple dress.

"So nice to meet you both! You look like fine, young specimen of the kind of children that should be fighting for the prize of the Games!" she exclaims to us with genuine enthusiasm, although there is no excitement in the essence of her words. "Now, you dears have to understand that our schedule for the next four days is jam-packed! We have interviews, appearances, formal dinners, and countless other things that we must stay on task for, so I need your absolute focus and cooperation. Do you understand?" Redson nods, and I just stare at her.

"Is something the matter, dear?" the Capitol lady asks me. "Because it would be a true shame to not be well on an exciting day like this!"

I snap out of my trance. "Yes, Miss, I'm…I'm fine."

"Stupendous!" she says with a huge grin. "By the way, my name is Relinda Dunne. Wonderful talking to you two! Toodle-oo!" And with that, she exits the room with the click-click-click of her high heels.

We wait until the entourage is out of earshot. Then, Redson turns to me with a hint of a smile on his face. "She's quite a character, isn't she?"

I laugh a little. "Well, we've certainly had worse."

We both chuckle. Then a slightly awkward silence follows, until Redson says, "I wonder who our mentor is."

"I don't think there's a lot to choose from in our district."

"It could be Hephesala Jury."

"I have no clue who that is."

"Good. It's best if you don't," he says, rolling his eyes.

"How come?"

"She's a real pain. Always in your face, constantly talking to you, even in the arena!" he says. "I always cringe whenever I learn that she's the mentor for that year. I bet she won her Games by annoying her opponents to death."

I laugh again, a real one this time. I could really get used to his company.

We walk in silence for a minute or two. Jeez, this train is big.

After a while, I ask him, "Hey, how's your dad's business doing?"

He looks at me, surprised that anyone would take an interest to the grocer's business. "It's going well, I guess," he replies. "As good as it can get, you could say."

"That's good."

Another few seconds of quiet.

"So…how's your father doing? Where does he work?"

I stop, at a loss of words. "Well, um…my father…is not here, at the time."

"Oh," he says, clearly embarrased. "Is he deceased?"

"No!" I say firmly, then throw my hand over my mouth. Redson looks a bit hurt. "He's missing."

A look of concern crosses Redson's face. "Wow, I didn't know. I'm real sorry about that, Adeline. I hope they find him."

"That's why I want to win this thing. I'll use my winnings to buy research to find him."

Redson nods. "That's a really noble cause. I have to hand it to you, I have a lot of respect for people like you. I genuinely wish you the best of luck in these Games. I hope you win."

I smile. "Thank you so much, Redson. That's really sweet."

By this point, we have reached the end of the train. We turn to look at each other, and Redson smiles. "Well, I guess we have a lot to talk about."

After wandering around for a few more minutes, we find the compartment containing Relinda Dunne and another man who I have never seen in my life. As we enter the compartment, I notice the smart décor and the luxurious blood-red couches. One is empty, the other is occupied by Relinda and the stranger. The stranger has tanned skin, electric blue eyes, and wire-rimmed spectacles. By my best guess, he looks to be in his early 40's. He is dressed in a sharp suit with a blue tie that matches his eyes. In his lap is a small whiteboard, a marker, and a mini eraser. Relinda invites us to sit down for a little chat with this man, our mentor.

"Hello, you too! So glad to see you spending some bonding time together! Now, I want you to meet Mr. Casper Leddington. He's going to be your mentor for this year's Games!

"Hello, Mr. Leddington," Redson says, as he stands to shake his hand. "How are you today?"

But Mr. Leddington doesn't reply. At least, he doesn't reply with words. Instead, he flashed Redson a smile and the "thumbs-up" sign.

Something is wrong with this man. And I figure out what it is as I look at his whiteboard, marker and eraser.

He can't talk.

I'm slightly taken aback by this newfound fact. How can we have a mentor that can't even speak?

But before I can ask any more questions in my head, Relinda starts in on a speech about our training schedule for the next couple of days. As she's talking, Casper takes his whiteboard, uncaps the marker, and discreetly writes something down. When he's finished, he smirks and turns the board around for us to see. The board says: …ZZZ…

Redson lets out an abrupt snort of laughter that stops Relinda's speech.

"Is something the matter?" she says with a snap of annoyance in her voice.

Redson grins.

"No, nothing's wrong, Relinda," I say, holding back giggles. Casper just smiles at Relinda.

"Well, if you are no longer interested in what I have to say, you don't have to laugh at me," she says, sounding hurt. She stands up suddenly and walks briskly out of the room. Redson, Casper and I wait until she is gone before we laugh. Well, before Redson and I laugh. Casper can't, of course.

I am reminded of my previous question. "So, Casper, er…why can't you speak?"

Casper looks at us sincerely, then begins to write on his board. When he shows the board to us, it says, 9th Hunger Games. Shot with arrow in throat. Not fatal, but enough to puncture voicebox. Irreversible damage. Dumb for life.

I read this explanation probably about five times. "That's awful," I finally say, but that's not enough. I can't even imagine how incredibly painful it would be to have all these stories to share, all these stories about the Games and death and alliances and friendship and triumph, and not being able to share them. It must be excruciating.

Redson says to Casper, "Well, Mr. Leddington, I assure you that when Adeline wins the Games, and uses her winnings to find her father, she'll set apart a fund to aid your voice reparation. Right, Adeline?"

I look at Redson, then at Casper. "Yes," I say. "I promise."

Casper smiles, and his eyes fill with tears of happiness. I can tell he wants to speak more than anything in the world.

He then writes something down on his board, and it reads, May I call you Ad?

I look at him, and nod. "Sure. That would be great. I like that name."

He grins, then erases the words and writes new ones. This time, they say: Red for him?

I'm confused for a second, then I realize he wants to call Redson "Red."

"What do you think, Red?" I say to him, trying it out for size. I like it. It fits him.

"It's suiting, isn't it, Ad," he replies with a small smile.

Casper begins to write something down, and we watch him as he writes, erases, and re-writes countless times, trying to find the right words.

I turn my eyes to Redson, only to find that he was already looking at me. We hold each other's gaze for a while, longer than intended. I can see the ocean in his eyes, crashing and foaming on the sand.

Our connection is interrupted by Casper, whose board now reads: Love?

I feel my face getting hot, and Redson's is already tomato red.

Casper smirks. He writes some more, and then the board says:

I'll take that as a yes.