After a while of talking to Casper, Red and I learn that he was the victor of the 9th Hunger Games at 12 years old but has never previously been a mentor because the Capitol wouldn't allow it, simply because he cannot talk. After appealing to the Capitol for 29 years to allow him to mentor District 6 tributes, he was finally granted mentorship, but only for this year, so he can "prove himself" to be a suitable mentor and teacher.

"Well, I'm sure that you're a fine mentor," says Red enthusiastically. "I mean, you survived the Games, and that's no accident, is it?"

Casper smiles for about the twentieth time tonight. I've noticed that Red really knows how to make a person feel wanted and cared about. But this, while being an exellent attribute for a person, might be a deceptive and dangerous one for a tribute. Then, the unthinkable dares to cross my mind: What if he's acting like he's my friend now, only to betray me and kill me in the Arena?

I shake the thought immediately from my head. Of course he won't betray me! How could he? He's so kind and considerate, even in real life, so he can't possibly kill me in the Arena!

But still, I obey that little voice in the back of my brain and decide to keep one eye on him at all times, in case for any suspicious signs.

At this time, Casper checks his watch, and his eyes widen. He holds out his wrist to us, and the watch says 2:32 A.M.

"Wow," I say. "Relinda's going to be pretty angry…"

"Because we are not at our full attention level, so we cannot function properly for the jam-packed day ahead of us!" Red exclaims in a perfect Relinda imitation.

I laugh, and so does he. Casper just grins like there's no tomorrow.

Then, Casper stands up and writes something quickly on the board. When he turns it around to us, it says: Better hit the hay. See you two lovebirds tomorrow.

"Casper," says Red weakly, putting a hand to the side of his face like a shield so I won't see his blush. But I still do.

Casper looks at me, then at Red, then back to me, and raises one eyebrow. I laugh silently out of embarassment and look down into my lap. I really do love him.

After a few silent seconds, Casper taps us on the shoulder. The board now reads: Well? Aren't you going to bed, too?

Red and I look at each other. "Maybe," he says with a tiny smile, "but not yet."

Casper shrugs and exits the compartment.

There's more silence as Red and I avoid each other's eyes. Then, I ask, "Did you sign up for charity tessarae?"

He nods. "Yep. 25 shares."

I am in disbelief. "25 shares? That puts you in as a definite dead-ringer for being tribute!"

"I suppose so," he says, "but some people need food more than I need to stay at home, safe and sound, while another boy fights for District 6."

I look at him, not believing how kind he is. No way he would betray me in the Arena. "You know, you are one of the most selfless people I have ever met. It's amazing how easily you can just value others' lives above your own."

"It's always come naturally for me."

We look at each other for a while. This time, in his eyes, I see myself, walking alone his shore, wading in his ocean. Collecting starfish, shells, and tiny little crayfish. In his eyes, I see my future.

We stay like this for God knows how long. Then, finally, he asks me, "Are you scared?"

"Of what?" The question was so vague. I'm scared of a lot of things, truthfully. I'm scared of heights, rodents, spiders, and bees. But most of all, I'm afraid of drugs. Alcohol, painkillers, morphling. I've honestly never taken a pain pill in my entire life. It's all because I'm afraid of becoming my mother. Addicted to it, always craving it, not being able to live without it, not being able to stop. Hurting the ones I love just for the sake of using it. Willing to give up everything I've worked for just to use it one more time, just one more time. It's frightening. So I vowed, back when I was nine years old, to stay away from drugs for as long as I live.

So now, I look at Red, waiting for his response to my clarification.

"Are you afraid of the Games? You know, having to kill kids and all that."

"Not to mention muttations, starvation, and dehydration. Oh yeah, and getting killed yourself."

"Not to mention," he says, repeating my words.

Another few seconds of silence. "But, well…are you?"

I take a deep breath before I give my reply. "I'm not afraid to die. That's the one thing I'm not afraid of. I am, however, afraid of making others die."

"That's a legitimate fear," he says.

"What about you?"

"I'm afraid of the killer bees," he says with a breathy laugh, referring to the tracker jackers. I wonder if he's aware that the girl I volunteered for in the Reaping was paralyzed by one.

Then, as if reading my thoughts, he says, "By the way, that was really brave of you to volunteer for Lepida. I bet she's really thankful."

I think back to earlier today, when she thanked me as she limped off the stage. "I hope so."

"Hey," he says suddenly. "Why don't we team up in the Arena? You know, as allies? We can find someone else in the Training Center, too."

I was just about to graciously accept, when I remember the voice in the back of my brain. Don't accept! He's just acting like your friend! Sooner or later you'll be lifted from the Arena with his knife in your back!

Once again, I shake it off. "Sure, that would be cool."

He smiles. "I guess this is the Hunger Games equivelent of asking you out on a date, huh?"

I try to stay cool on the outside, but on the inside, I'm screaming with excitement. The little voice starts up again, but I quickly smother it with my next sentence.

"I guess you could say that."