A/N District Seven and I am feeling pumped! After seeing Catching Fire, I had a sudden urge to write for Johanna. She's always been one of my favorite characters. So in this story, we'll see a lot of familiar characters actually mentoring! Which was kind of what I wanted in the second book, but surprise surprise. So that's what I'm gonna do!

Special thanks to drinkthatliquorstore for Lyana. She's just an awesome character who will be a challenge to write, but I accept!

She's based off a character I really love. If you can guess who it is, you'll get one pretty awesome privilege. Your submitted tribute will be spared from the Bloodbath!

District Seven Mentor

Johanna Mason (20)

Johanna knew that the day was not going to be a good one when she poured the milk into the bowl before the cereal.

"Shit!" She screamed loudly. Then, just because there was no one around to hear her after all, she let out a flurry of colorful expressions. She slammed the pitcher down. Kicked the wood beneath the seat. Well, that hurt quite bit. So she spent the next five minutes jumping around the house, her toe clutched in one hand, screaming at the world.

And it felt kind of good.

This was her way of coping. Of course, she would never admit this to anyone. Johanna would rather be thought of as having anger issues than be thought of as the emotionally unstable girl with a little post traumatic stress disorder. Screaming at the top of her lungs helped rid her of all those pent up, confusing emotions. Just feeling something….even if that something was a scream ripping through her throat, was better than feeling nothing at all. She would do anything she could to avoid becoming that catatonic, shell of a person her fellow mentors often ended up as.

Johanna knew the real reason for the little mishap was because she was out of it. It was Reaping Day. And just like the three Reaping Days she had gone to as a Victor in the past, she was lost in thought and fear for the day's events. The Reaping Day was when everything came flooding back.

And she spent her whole morning sitting at the table, staring off into space and wondering how she was going to survive the week or so to follow. Oh, hopefully it would only be a week. Great! There she went, thinking like a completely emotionless coward.

Damn, she hated when thoughts like that crept into her mind.

It wasn't like she could help it, though. She couldn't help wanting to get out of the Capital as soon as possible. Every time the train neared the city, with its candy-colored buildings and illuminated skyline, she felt her stomach turning in nausea. The place made her physically sick. When she was in the Capital, Johanna felt like all the life had been sucked out of her. Every time she was forced to shake hands with another official, sadness and rage welled up in her and she wanted to be sick.

You killed him She would think when she saw the men and women's faces.

You killed him. And you killed him. And you, you probably did too.

She scratched the top of the table. Maybe Blight had something to drink in his liquor cabinet. She had a liquor cabinet, too. A few days after coming home from her Games and moving into a house in the Victors Village that was cruelly far too large for one person, Blight and Thad and Ivy had come over with bottles of whiskey and something called scotch. Ivy was the only other female victor and was about thirty. She had been the last to win the Games before Johanna and was tough as leather. Thad was a muscular guy. He was forty seven years old and a bit of an alcoholic.

Like every other Victor ever.

The problem was, the day or so after that, Johanna had completely broken all of the bottles. Well, of course they broke. She had thrown them against the wall. That's what she did when she was angry. Throw things. Seeing that whiskey, she had thought of her father. How he used to sit on the front porch with a small glass of that exact same kind.

Before she could blink twice, the bottle was shattered on the ground.

And how many more things were shattered? Johanna buried her head in her hands. This year was a Quell. Families. Whole families were going to die this year. So what of the Victor? (Or Victors, considering that multiple people from one district could win.) Those Victors would surely have lost at least one person in their family, along with suffering all that lovely post traumatic stress disorder that came with the Games.

Now she was in charge of mentoring a whole family. A whole goddamn family!

There better not be any babies, she thought bitterly to herself. If there was one thing she would not be able to deal with this year, it was babies. Or little kids under Reaping age in general. They would look up at her, pleading with their helpless eyes. And she would have to turn away. How was she going to help a seven year old survive? Fifteen year olds were tough enough.

Like that girl she had mentored in the Seventy-Third Games. She had this brightness in her eyes…it made Johanna feel like maybe this year was different, even though the girl was still pretty young. But she could swing an axe just like Johanna could. Of course she could, that girl. Little thing, Tessa she was called. But man, her arms were chiseled and strong. Just like Johanna's. They were from the same area, a settlement of lumberjacks. Axes had been their playthings.

And she was clever. Tessa knew her way around the woods. Knowledge of plants came secondhand for most kids in Seven. That had been Johanna's first year really mentoring. This would be only her second, since she alternated with Ivy. Now she knew not to hope. She had made the mistake of every other first year mentor and hoped. She had poured all of her time into that girl. Even her weak thirteen year old partner got some attention. But Tessa? Oh, they spent hours each night strategizing and planning.

In the end, it had not been enough. It never was.

The arena that year had been a city, with hardly any grass in sight. Food was hidden in the buildings and was often poisoned, anyway. All of Tessa's knowledge of plants was useless. Johanna had figured, though, that if Tessa could only get her hands on an axe…

She didn't. Tessa was running towards a small one right in the middle of the Cornucopia when a Career boy from One drove a spear right through her chest.

Ivy came to Johanna's house as soon as she returned from the Capital. She found Johanna in a room with all the chairs turned over and torn pages of strategy plans all over. Ivy didn't even have to ask. She had been a first time mentor once. Ivy did not say much. Johanna knew her anger at the Capital took a different form than her screaming, cursing one. Ivy just sat in stone cold silence.

Johanna knew why Ivy was so silent. Why her drawers were filled with morphling syringes and strong drinks. For years after her victory, the Capital sold her. No, not literally of course. But it was as close to slavery as possible. They took her body and forced her to sell it. At night, she was passed from mansion to mansion and every night she became more valuable. Ivy had piles of cash practically leaking from her drawers. It was useless. Just paper. She had been seventeen when she won. They first sold her two weeks after her last day in the Arena.

This Johanna knew for a fact. How? Well, she had been offered the exact same thing herself.

She remembered coming back from the Arena. How Ivy warned her of her imminent future. "Just say yes to them," she had said. "I know it seems horrible and it was for me. But just say yes." Oh, she had pleaded with Johanna. She knew the girl's stubbornness well.

Sure enough, the President himself came to pay her a little visit. Told her how she would spend the next decade of her life or so, until she chose someone to marry and have a lovely, televised affair that would provide a conversation topic for the Capital citizens.

She had refused.

And now, now she could never forgive herself for that mistake.

Johanna pulled herself up from her seat and inspected her clothes. The cameras would surely go in for close ups of her. Sure, they would mostly focus in on Blight and Thad and Ivy. Good, obediant victors. They had done whatever they'd been told. Well, screw that.

Oh, she hadn't always been this way. There used to be a time when she did what she was told and no questions asked. Okay, she had always been "spunky," as her father called her. Man, they were close. Of course they were. They had no one else. She lived with her father in the middle of the woods of Seven in a small wood house in a small settlement of lumberjacks. He used to take her out chopping with him early in the morning. Taught her how to use an axe. Then they'd walk for a while, him teaching her about trapping and she teaching him about all the plants around them.

In the evening, he would make some stew with whatever they had found and then they might both read for a while. Old, dusty books. New ones didn't really exist. Maybe they'd go out to the rickety porch with cups of pine needle tea and just sit there. They wouldn't talk to each other. They didn't need to.

He was a gruff-looking man, with a scraggly face and large, muscular arms. But he was soft on the inside. Johanna loved teasing him about that. He was the kind of man who let mice out of the house in cups and wrapped his daughter in his piney scent every time he walked in the door.

She didn't have a mother. The woman died because she'd been a high-risk pregnancy. And, you know, having a baby like that without a doctor anywhere near was kind of a death sentence.

But she didn't need one. She had her dad. Her father, who, aside from the occasional sip of whiskey, never got drunk on her. He never raised a hand to her. Her father, who upon seeing a stray dog outside, brought it straight inside to his eleven year old daughter and they raised it together.

Johanna felt herself smiling, thinking of the way her father looked at that scrawny little dog. They called it Willy. The little guy followed Johanna everywhere.

He still did. Sometimes, as Johanna lay awake in her bed, she could hear the sound of his nails scraping against the wooden floor. Scritch. Scritch. And in the night, when shadows shifted, she could see his form. Still wiggling his tail. Looking up at her, begging her to come join him and her father.

Standing there in her kitchen, Johanna's mind suddenly flooded with pictures from that day. Running from the train station and pushing herself through the crowd of people who had come out to see her. She had only had one thing on her mind. Finding her father. She would throw her arms around him and he wouldn't ask her to speak a word. There was no reason to relive it all. He would help her forget the picture of that girl she had killed, her body curling around her axe. Or the image of that boy she had thrown her axe at, his eyes widening before he fell.

Maybe he already knew what Snow forced all the victors to do when they came out. He would see his daughter had denied this. And he would be proud. She would see Willy again and he would run into her arms. They could come live in the Village with her. It was going to be okay.

And then she had opened the door to their little house.

Her father was on the living room floor. Blood pooled from his head. His eyes stared at the ceiling, vacant. The glasses her wore when he read were askew on his face, bent and cracked from a heavy force. A bowl of stew still sat on the table. He had been dead for two days-shot the same day she stormed out of President Snow's office.

Willy was curled next to him. Loyal until the end. His tiny body was curled around the bullet in his stomach.

Now, standing by the liquor cabinet, Johanna felt her stomach heave. Without a second thought, she thrust the cabinet open. She knew nothing of liquor and chose the first bottle she saw. The same kind of whiskey her father drank. Johanna popped the cap off and took a deep swig.

It burned her throat like fire slipping down. She spit some of it out and gagged. Shit! How did Thad do this? This stuff was awful! But maybe a small part of her did understand. When that fire touched her throat…well, at least she was feeling something.

She wiped her mouth and put the bottle away. This was not going to help those pictures go away. Johanna swallowed hard and took one last look in the mirror. Three-quarter length dark green pants and a black turtleneck and brown lace-up boots. What she wore everyday, really. She had a closet in her bedroom completely full of beautiful clothes her stylist had given her, since cameras were everywhere. She never touched any of it. Why should she?

She had already made it clear to the Capital that she was doing nothing for them.

It was hard to stop now.

Johanna thrust the door open and walked outside into the sunlight. It was a nice enough day outside. District Seven was located in the north and so never got very hot, but it maintained a steady climate. Her house was very large and made of brick. It had a walkway in front of it that was becoming filled with weeds. The weeds growing in the cracks actually gave her some satisfaction. This beautiful house and yard had been given to her by the Capital. They were immaculately clean when she had been given them.

The plants, weeds though they were, reminded her of home. Besides, if all of it was from the Capital, than it deserved nothing more than weeds and peeling paint.

Thad, Blight and Ivy were all walking together to the Square. Ivy waved her over. She looked nice, wearing a long blue skirt. Even Thad had cleaned up for today. Johanna realized that he would be mentoring with her. Blight kept his eyes on the ground, clearing his throat now and then. Thad was silent, but his eyes were rimmed with red and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Ivy looked very worn.

It was the worst day of the year for the three of them.

Ivy shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up. It was a little cloudy and it would probably rain sometime in the day. This was the Northwest, after all. Ivy turned to the rest of them, trying to make conversation when the air was so tense. "So, what does everybody think of our newest victors? I still can't believe the Head Gamemaker let two win." She shook her head. "Pretty shocking. I wonder how those two are holding up, this being their first Reaping and all." She got a funny look in her eyes, like she was worried about the two.

Typical Ivy. Johanna, on the other hand, could care less. She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it was pretty weird. But, you know, the Capitol might have rioted if the love story was broken up. The people there…they're like china dolls or something. Like they can break any time."

Thad snorted. "That's exactly right!"

Blight rubbed his neck. "That Peeta boy, I can't think how he won. He sure lucked out, that's what happened. Without the girl, he wouldn't have lasted a night. And the Career Pack, too. Those kids may be brutal, but they will keep ya alive." He nodded thoughtfully to himself. "That girl, Katniss, she was something special for sure, though."

Johanna knew from watching her mentor's past Games that he had joined the Career pack as his strategy. They kept him alive long enough for him to come up with a strategy to kill them. It wasn't a bad idea, Johanna thought. Her plan of pretending to be a weakling and hiding was effective, though not particularly original.

"She seemed like an emotional wreck," Johanna said. "And that was even before the end of the Games. She's probably gone completely mental by now. Her types don't last long." Johanna traced her foot in the mud. Now she was thinking about that girl. Who probably didn't realize that she hadn't won anything at all.

That was the toughest part about becoming a Victor.

Realizing that nothing had been won.

Sectroe Family

Lyana Sectroe (17)

Dyson Sectroe (36)

Ayanna Roth-Sectroe (35)

Lyana sat on a moss-covered log, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

Where was Pierce? The idiot was hardly ever late. Actually, he usually seemed to scramble over himself to get to her on time. Oh, Pierce. She really couldn't deny her affection for the boy. He was kind of like a puppy, always following her around with big, brown eyes. And every girl loves a puppy, doesn't she?

The water in the little pool moved like it had a life of its own. It bubbled from a small stream and pooled into one murky area, then went flowing out into the creek. Leaves floated along with the water, like tiny sailboats. Lyana remembered coming here as a little kid. She would spend hours splashing in the icy water. Oh, sometimes when she was younger she would bring along a friend or two. Little girls with braids flying behind them, just like she used to wear. But none would play with her for very long.

They got scared. The water was rushing and icy and the rocks were slippery. Lyana was never scared. She jumped from rock to rock with ease and never once lost her footing. Eventually, she gave up playing with the other little girls. Let them go back inside to play with their dolls, for all she cared.

It was much better to be alone, anyway.

Well, Pierce was a little different. The exception to that rule. He was a quiet guy, which pleased Lyana. She was free to sit and think without any interruptions. When she asked for his insight on something though, he was always ready to offer one. He was a smart guy. And maybe that was why he had never volunteered.

Volunteers in Seven were rare. Oh, not as rare as in, say, Eleven. But rare nonetheless. Maybe Lyana had, at one time, dreamt of volunteering. She had always been an ambitious child. Those were nothing more than fantasies though. She was not stupid enough to volunteer. No one decent ever did volunteer. Just impulsive ego-maniacs, maybe.

Pierce's family taught him differently. Lyana's father, Dyson, frowned whenever he mentioned the boy's parents. And it was no wonder. The pair was utterly insane. Who would force their kid to volunteer for the Games, then abandon him when he decided not to? It was sick.

They trained Pierce for the Games since the time he was five, he had told Lyana. His childhood had been filled with hand-to-hand combat, wrestling, target practice with any form of weapon his father could get his hands on, and watching the Games. Lyana actually felt a little pity for the guy.

Not that her childhood had been exactly peachy-keen either. Lyana gritted her teeth just thinking about it. Today was Reaping Day. And everyone knew that Reaping Day was for the family. With this Quell, that would only be multiplied. There would be no avoiding her parents. No avoiding the shame of being seen with her pushover mother and failure of a father. What if she saw any of her classmates? Most of the time in school, she pulled off an "I could really care less right now" attitude towards the comments of others.

Now, though, she wasn't so sure. Everyone cared about others' opinions. At least a little.

That was why no one except for Pierce knew who her parents were. What would they saw when they found out? Her father was just a simple, bookish teacher with crooked glasses? Her mother was a pale, washed-out woman who walked like she was stepping on eggshells? These were the parents of Lyana Sectroe?

It was going to be a nightmare.

Lyana's to mach churned itself into a knot at the thought of seeing her father's face again. After she had been avoiding it for the past two weeks. Her new discovery still burned fresh in her mind. That day two months ago when her mother was out visiting her little sister, who had just given birth and spending the week there and her father thought she was away at the Smoking Hole…she shuddered. Oh, if only she had been here! Just nursing a cigarette and brooding like any other Saturday. But she hadn't been. For once, she had been at home.

Why had she been home? Oh, right. A headache from drinking in the woods the night before with Pierce. There was no way they could afford anything but the cheapest wine, so they usually ended up sick when morning came. A small price to pay for being able to forget everything at night.

She had slept most of the day and decided not to go back to the Hole at night. Her father had assumed otherwise, of course. He knew his daughter always took up the opportunity to sneak away from their small log house. Except that night in early April.

Lyana had heard them first. They had roused her from her light sleep on the family's worn brown couch. There, from her father's bedroom, there were creaking noises. Someone barely stifled a sort of moan. And she had smiled to herself at first. So her parents were finally getting something on. It was about time.

And then it hit her. Her mother wasn't home! She was with her sister, helping her take care of that wrinkly, smelling baby.

Her stomach clenched in a knot, she had walked up the rickety stairs to her father's bedroom. And taken a single look through the crack in his door. What had she been expecting to see? Well, she knew it was going to be bad. But not that bad. Because there her father was, in bed with one of the girls who went to Lyana's same school and couldn't have been much older than her. One of her father's students.

Bile rising in her throat, Lyana had only barely muffled a scream. Just like that, she took off. Running down the stairs, out of that disgusting house and out into the fresh air. Lyana didn't stop there. She just kept running. Running until the house was out of sight and then all the way into the central area of Seven where Pierce lived.

She had never once looked back.

It was only after that horrible incident that she realized how lucky she was to have a guy like Pierce. He was the kind of guy who wore a tough look and a rebellious attitude that some found frightening at first. When Lyana had first met him a year or so ago, he was sitting on a street corner and playing the hell out of an old drum he had obviously made himself. She had been transfixed. Here was this guy with this rough and tough look about him, and yet he was so into playing that stupid drum. Because she'd had nothing better to do and would do anything to quell the horrid thoughts in her mind, she stayed.

One hour turned into another. And then, the next day after spending the night at the Hole rather than go home, she had come back.

The rest was history. Now, they shared a tiny room in a crowded tenement in the district's factory area. District Seven wasn't all woodland. There were also factories for turning the lumber into paper, planks or furniture. She and Pierce both worked in a furniture factory. He was of age, but she was still seventeen. It didn't matter. She had always looked older than she was, anyway.

Lyana had never faced her parents again. They didn't know where she was and so couldn't contact her. But there were never any "missing" notices with her face on them, either. She imagined they were going through enough trouble as it was and besides, she was seventeen. Old enough to be taking care of herself.

Kids ran away all the time. Okay, Lyana wasn't exactly like the rest. She wasn't like Pierce. Her parents had never put a hand on her. They would never physically cause her any harm.

In her mind, it was more like a divorce. Caused by "irreconcilable differences." They parted ways peacefully and that was that. But today was going to ruin all of that. Lyana worried not only for herself, but for her parents, too. It wasn't like she hated them. They were just…different. Well, she was quite sickened by what her father had done. But how could she face her mother? The poor woman was already so defeated by life. She had always gone out of her way to please her husband, who was really just a weak coward. She was the kind of person who would turn white at the sight of a tiny spider on her rug. The two of them made quite the cowardly pair.

"Hey, Lyana."

Lyana turned to see Pierce. He walked into their little Smoking Hole silently, making hardly a sound though there was a layer of twigs and leaves beneath him. Pierce always seemed to melt out of the background and just appear. That was one of the reasons Lyana had kept him around. She found him intriguing.

Pierce knew he was lucky. He knew Lyana, with her long dark hair and pale skin and her ocean-blue eyes could have her pick of the boys in District Seven. She was beautiful and she knew it just as well as they did. And even though her looks certainly weren't perfect, there was something unmistakably attractive about her. Attractive in the most literal sense of the word. She could lure anyone right in.

"Hey, Pierce. You're late."

She watched Pierce sit down and pull a cigarette from his pocket. Sure, one might think they were blowing their money on cigarettes when they should have been buying food. The truth was, they hardly ever bought food. Pierce, from all his years of training, proved to be an adept thief. Lyana could run nearly as fast as he could. They were both extraordinarily observant. Lyana could tell an unoccupied apartment or cabin from an occupied one in a split second, even if lights had been left on.

Oh, they weren't heartless. They knew which families needed that loaf of bread on the table and which families could spare an apple or two. Namely, the Peacekeepers. There was nothing as satisfying as stealing from one of those large houses that didn't even have that tight of a security system. One unlocked door and they were set for the week.

Pierce took a soft drag from his cigarette. Lyana smiled a little. Pierce smoked so delicately that it made her laugh. She, on the other hand, took long and deep drags. Like she was trying to inhale as much of the smoke as possible. Pierce joked sometimes about how she might have a death wish.

And maybe she did. Just a little.

"I can't deny it, Lyana." Pierce said, breaking the silence. "I'm pretty grateful to have the day off today. Those increased quotas they just put on us, man, those are murder. I feel like the only fresh air I can get is during one of our nightly…adventures."

Lyana smacked him in the arm. "Gross! The way you said it made it sound like we were sneaking off to the woods to do it or something!"

Pierce laughed and shook his head of shaggy brown hair. "No way! I wish, though." He grinned stupidly. "I do love our food runs, though. I love the feeling of that adrenaline going through me. And I love the effect it has on you too, Lyana. It makes you look happy." He got a far-off look in his eyes. "Your cheeks get all red and you start smiling. I wish you'd smile more often. It can't be that hard, can it?"

"I think you still have a lot to learn, Pierce."

They were silent for a little while after that. Lyana watched the water in the small pool ripple as leaves dropped into it. The water looked so inviting. When she was little, she used to just walk right in. It was always ice cold, but it felt so nice. She still did. Wandered into the cold water with her clothes sticking to her back. When no one was around, of course. That ice cold, well, at least she was feeling something.

The Hole wasn't too deep into the woods. If Lyana went any deeper, she knew she would find small clusters of houses. Lumberjack villages. Here, isolated from the rest of Seven, people lived in dirt poor poor clusters of log shacks while men worked in the woods all day long.

Here, they were only a short walk from the city. Seven's central city was not unlike any other in the districts. It too had factories and crowded buildings, though slightly less crowded than those of, say, Eight or Five.

"I think we should go, Lyana." Pierce said quietly from his spot on the log.

Lyana stood up slowly. Yes, the sun was high in the sky. They would probably be late. Not that she cared. She and Pierce could probably run through the crowd and slip into their spots without being noticed by their family members. Lyana stared down at her choice of outfit. She had thrown on one of Pierce's only nice shirts that was obviously way too big for her. Her black pants had been stolen from her and Pierce's favorite target-the richest house in Seven, owned by an official from the Capital who checked quotas in the factories. As she only had one pair of shoes, plain black boots, she was wearing those.

Oh, well. It wasn't like the cameras would go in on her or anything.

She and Pierce began walking on the cleared path that made its way back to the city. Tall trees framed her vision and bird calls cut into the silence. Somewhere in the distance, there was the sound of an saw hitting wood. The woods were never truly silent.

That was all right with Lyana. Complete silence always made her feel like she was going slowly insane.

Pierce turned to her, a sincere look in his eyes. "Are you nervous?" He reached to grab her hand. It was a sweet gesture, really. Lyana was not exactly the "touchy-feely" type, though. Actually, she knew she could come off as cold to Pierce. He didn't seem to care. He just kept going for it. Oh, what was a little hand holding?

So she accepted. "No, I'm not nervous," she answered him firmly. And she wasn't, really. First she had just been uncomfortable. But now it set in that the odds of seeing her parents were pretty low. Unless, of course, that happened.

But she wasn't going to be Reaped. That was impossible.

Lyana had never feared the Reaping like the other kids had. She'd never feared most of the things others were afraid of, really. Upon thinking about it, she guessed that could be chalked up to her not being afraid of death. No, Lyana did not fear death at all, unlike other young people. Death was just something that happened every day. There was no need to carry on about it. The Games were just another way kids died, along with bad water, accidents and fevers. Kids died of those things every day and no one thought twice about them.

She was beginning to notice something about the Games.

It was that now, they were starting to become less of a taboo subject. Less of a huge deal when kids died. Now, they were more like a yearly event that could not be avoided. No amount of protest could make them go away. Actually, protests had been proven to only make things worse. So all that was left to be done was stand in the city's center once a year in silence and endure the horror that was to come.

Pierce kept his grip on her hand as they entered the city. Trees abruptly changed into tall factory buildings and the occasional storefront. Their narrow dirt path became wide, pot-hole ridden streets. People crowded, dressed in whatever nice clothes could be found. There was a lot of brown and gray.

Lyana suddenly felt eager to talk. She got like that sometimes. It seemed she was either wanting more than anything to just be alone or she would kill for conservation. Right now, words burned on her tongue, ready to be let out. "So what do you think of this year's Quell?" She finally asked.

"I dunno. It's not like it's kept me up at night or anything. Bigger things to worry about."

"I hear ya."

Then, Pierce shook his head. "But man, something about it does seem really wrong. I think they might be taking this a little too far this year. Every Quell they seem to be testing how far they can go without triggering a mass rebellion. This might be it. Family is, well, special. I mean, doesn't it seem kind of forbidden to break it up like that? And think of those little kids. Babies will have to go in this year." He rubbed his neck. "Babies. Shit."

She couldn't help a laugh from bubbling at her lips. "We're ones to talk about the sacredness of family, aren't we?"

Pierce rolled his eyes. "All right. Fine."

Truthfully, Lyana had hoped her laugh and biting comment would cut him off. She wasn't comfortable when Pierce started talking about rebellion like he sometimes did. It wasn't like he was running messages underground or amassing a pile of illegal weapons or something. But he still could let out some dangerous comments. If one of those Peacekeepers nearby so much as heard the word "rebellion," Pierce could certainly end up in the middle of a public flogging. And not as a bystander for sure.

He nudged Lyana. "Look! The tables are over there."

They walked together to check in. The line was shorter than usual. In previous years, it snaked along the city block. Last year, she and Pierce had been stuck outside a factory that belched foul-smelling smoke for half an hour. This year, there was only a trickle of small, flustered looking kids. Had they always looked that small?

The woman at the check in table looked up at Lyana, probably sizing up her wrinkled short, muddied boots and knotted, wild hair. Next to the little twelve year olds in their best skirts and blouses, it was no wonder Lyana stood out. But the woman only sighed. "You're running late, dear." She said softly.

Then Lyana felt the sudden pain of the needle in her finger. She winced slightly and Pierce squeezed her hand. But she didn't cry out. It wasn't like it hurt much. Most kids just winced because the shock of it on top of their overwhelming nerves made them physically jump. Lyana had no prettifying nerves.

"We'd better hurry," she told Pierce with a small smile playing on her lips. They were late. Perfect. It was true that she and Pierce did not usually like to be late for anything. They were fade into the background types. If people noticed them, there would be trouble. But now it was good to be late. No time at all to risk being seen by their horridly screwed up parents.

He caught on and smiled back. Then, because the escort was already starting a speech in front of the huge glass bowl, he took off without so much as a goodbye.

Not that Lyana minded. Much. She did her best to melt into the crowd. Though taking one of the aisles to the seventeen year old girls' section would certainly have been faster, it was much better to go through the crowd of taller girls than risk being spotted and getting caught on camera.

Because she chose this path, she reached her spot only just as the escort, some woman in bubblegum pink with the ridiculous name of Priscilla, was getting ready to draw a slip of paper from the bowl. Lyana studied the woman's outfit. Hadn't that District Twelve mentor worn pink last year? Well, the woman was probably famous by now. It wasn't often that two victors came out of the Games. Last year during the Games, Lyana hadn't been transfixed by the pair of them, Katniss and Peeta. They actually made her gag in her mouth just a little.

But maybe Priscilla was hoping the bright pink color would bring her luck. Lyana rolled her eyes. It was all so stupid.

She watched as Priscilla plunged one perfectly white-gloved hand into the glass bowl. The rings she wore on top of the glove were so large and gaudy that Lyana could see them all the way from her spot in the back. Then, every single kid in the district rose up to try to get a better look. Now she couldn't see anything at all.

"Lyana Sectroe!"

Lyana felt her heart rise up into her throat. It just shot up and she nearly doubled over in shock. A weight seemed to hit her chest. She almost stumbled forward, but caught herself just in time. Lyana was not the kind of person who would let them see her stumble. She would give none of those Capital viewers any satisfaction.

So on her seemingly never-ending walk up to the stage, Lyana gritted her teeth and concentrated on not giving a show. There would be no tears from her. Instead, she clenched her fists and drew her nails into her palms. She knew she was pressing hard and there would be blood when she opened her palm. She didn't care.

The blood coming out in little crescent shapes in her palm would let her know that she was still alive.

She did not scream for anyone. Who would she scream to, anyway? Pierce? He was all she had left, really. Though he wouldn't be much help, Pierce with his puppy eyes and hand squeezing. Besides, the Capital had seen its lovers already. Repetition wouldn't be entertaining. Wouldn't want to ruin the ratings, she thought bitterly.

Oh, Lyana was one smart girl, though. She knew that staring at the camera that was no positioned right in front of her face (damn it) was only going to push her further into the Capital's spotlight. A confident tribute from an outer district would give them something to talk apart. She would be noticed.

And the last thing Lyana wanted to be was noticed.

Even though her heart felt like it had stopped beating entirely and there was a roar of blood rushing in her ears, Lyana's mind was still sharp as ever. The gears were turning and their was no stopping them. If nothing else. Lyana was sharp. Sharp as a piece of glass. And boy, she was going to cut deeply. She had already mastered the art of fading in. Her time as a petty their earned her skill in becoming wallpaper. She knew the best way to avoid the eyes of the Capital. And that was to avoid anyone's eyes in general.

So she kept her face down to the ground until she felt her feet hit the hard wood of the stage.

Priscilla rushed over to her, her sky-high heels causing her to teeter slightly. Lyana, though still in shock, actually found herself trying to suppress a burst of laughter. Priscilla grabbed Lyana's boney shoulder with her spiny fingers, adorned in gaudy rings, and led her to the center of the stage.

Lyana took a deep breath and faced the crowd.

They stared back up at her silently. The kids in the front looked so, so small. Had she ever been that small? Most looked a little confused. She knew why. They were waiting to see what would happen next. This year was different. A Quell year. So far, there had been hardly any differences, besides a Reaping bowl twice the normal size. But now it was going to change.

Behind her, the mentors shifted in their seats. Lyana silently counted four of them.

Four. So which two would she get this year? One of the men was clearly an alcoholic, judging from his shirt that was more wrinkled than her own and his matted hair. The other man looked older, but normal enough.

There were two girls, interestingly. It was a sad fact, but a known one, that girls won the Games less than their male counterparts did. Just nature, really. It was harder for the girls to lift heavy weapons. Their speed was just a split second than the boys'. A split second made a crucial difference in the Games. And it was harder for girls to kill. All those emotions got in the way.

So hear were two younger-looking women. The older one couldn't be over forty and the younger one looked only twenty. That was hardly older than Lyana herself. Oh, the younger one was Johanna Mason. She hadn't changed much since Lyana watched her in the Games four years ago or so.

All this Lyana quietly observed in a matter of seconds.

Priscilla finally decided to clear her throat into the microphone and move on with things. Lyana almost breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew silence could be so deafening? That roaring in her ears wouldn't go away. Her hands had started shaking now too. She eventually gave up on trying to get them to stop and just pulled them behind her back.

The escort looked nervous for a moment. Well, of course she did. Those Capital escorts were probably used to routine. Something breaking the routine, like a Quell, could prove to be really something to handle for them. Lyana took silent enjoyment in watching Priscilla fumble.

"Ahem," Priscilla said again, clearing her throat for a second time. "Could the family of Lyana please come forward? Sectore family, come to the stage."

For just the shortest moment, everything was silent. The crowd seemed to freeze. It was so silent and still it seemed to Lyana like everyone had just stopped breathing. But only for a moment. One moving figure instantly stuck out. The only moving figure in the crowd of statues. Lyana recognized her father's salt and pepper colored hair immediately.

Every person in the crowd turned at once. The heads moved as if they were one. There was a slight rumble from the sound of thousands of feet shifting to get a better look.

Her father walked through the center. Then, there was another ripple in the back of the crowd. People parted ways and stared silently as a woman with a crown of matted blond hair and a thin, drawn face stepped forward. The woman walked forward to join her husband.

The two walked towards the stage.

Lyana silently steeled herself.

It was only going to get worse.

A/N There was a slightly shorter chapter (I think) for you, in the hopes of holding your attention a bit more. I've been playing around with spacing and paragraph breaks and trying to find which way keeps attention best. Let me know in your review what methods help to keep you reading!

Again, thank you to drinkthatliqourstore for Lyana. She was a bit of a challenge to write just right. I assure you, there will be more from her and she'll be explored and elaborated on later. For now, I hope that little intro did its job!

And thanks to all of you, who make me smile with your reviews. You guys are great.