The next thing I remembered was someone dabbing a freezing cold, soaking wet cloth across my forehead. A dull pain was shooting through my skull, and a groan slipped my lips before I could help it.

"Hey, she's waking up!" a familiar voice came softly. "Blake? Can you hear me?"

I restrained another groan, shifting with a wince. "What happened?"

Someone gave a deep, throaty chuckle as the cloth was dabbed across my forehead again. "What happened is a little girl beat three Peacekeepers to a pulp," the unfamiliar, deep voice said. "You're lucky to only have a mild concussion."

"Mild?" I grumbled, reluctantly letting my eyes flicker open. I was lay in across a plush sofa, obviously not in the care centre. The whole room seemed to be covered in a dark mahogany wood, and a large fire crackled in the fireplace to the left. A coffee table in front of the sofa was laid out with a bowl of water, several drinks and a large stack of sandwiches. The sight made my stomach grumble loudly.

"Here," Eva sighed, stretching out across the table to hand me a sandwich. "Sit up slowly, and if you can hold your stomach, you can eat." She was trying to sound light-hearted, but her eyebrows were tight with concern.

I shot her a soft look with a small smirk. "I'm fine, Eva," I insisted, struggling to push myself upright without moving my head. "It was only a few Peacekeepers."

"Eight," Erik's disapproving voice came, and I glanced up to see him leaning in the doorway with a scowl. "Five of them had guns."

"I only saw four with guns," I argued dismissively, taking the sandwich from Eva and biting into it cautiously.

"Yes, well you wouldn't have seen the fifth," Eva shrugged with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "They were behind you. Managed to push past the Forges to smack you around the back of the head with the end of the gun."

I winced, lifting a hand to my wound, where a large, delicate lump was protruding from the base of my head. "Ouch," I grimaced, my stomach churning sickly.

"Ouch indeed," the deep voice came, and I started, turning too quickly and yelping at the pain. A man I recognised stood by the kitchen doorway, tall and dark-skinned, with dark eyes that sparkled kindly. His name was Chaff, and he was one of the only Victors of the Hunger Games District 11 had, along with a woman named Seeder.

"You've got skills, kid," he grinned at me. "You're not very smart, but you can fight."

"It doesn't matter if she can fight," Eva glowered at him. "She shouldn't have been anywhere near there! What were you thinking, Blake? That was the Forges' problem, not yours, and those pretty boys could do with being brought down a peg or two anyway!"

I felt my eyebrows tighten into an uncharacteristic scowl. "It wasn't the guys that bothered me," I mumbled darkly. "It was the little girl Riley was about to smack."

Eva's face straightened a fraction. "The little girl . . . you mean Desirae Forge, Trey's baby sister? Look, Blake, I agree she doesn't deserve it, but she's Trey's sister to take care of, not yours."

"Eva," I warned with a glower. "It was a choice between me, and an innocent eight year old girl. Not much of a decision as far as I'm concerned, no matter who's sister she is."

It didn't matter how much I argued back, Eva was determined. "Do you have any idea how mad Riley is at you right now?" she retorted. "You humiliated those Peacekeepers! Imagine, a seventeen year old girl from District 11 bringing down Peacekeepers without breaking a sweat! Where did you even learn to do that?"

I hesitated. What was I supposed to say? That I'd been being trained for the Hunger Games since I was old enough to stand? Chaff cleared his throat loudly with a wide grin. "Well! Wherever you learnt it, we could probably use you to mentor the Tributes." He winked like we were sharing some sort of inside joke, one that I didn't get.

I coughed awkwardly, ignoring the strange looks from the twins. "Where are we?"

"My place," Chaff answered, smiling at me pleasantly. "Seeder and I were talking to the Mayor about plans for the Reaping later when we saw your little . . . episode, shall we say? Seeder took the Forges back home, and I helped your friends bring you here. Better for you to recover away from the sight of Paula Riley."

"So you brought me to the Victors Village?" I snorted. "Very subtle." Chaff just snorted with a wide grin. Rolling my eyes, I threw my legs over the side of the sofa and tried to stand. The moment I pushed off from my seat, my head swam in dizziness and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop myself from gagging.

"Whoa, hey," Eva scolded, taking my shoulders and lowering me back down to the sofa. "Maybe you should sit still for a while."

I glanced out of the window and scowled. "It's almost noon. The Reaping will be soon."

"Blake, look at you," Erik sighed. "At this rate, you'll never even make the Reaping!"

I let out a stunned laugh before I could help it. "You think there's even a small chance Riley will let me get out of the Reaping after this morning?" The twins shared an awkward look, but Chaff nodded in agreement with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Exactly. Now would one of you lovely people please help me back to the centre so that I can get ready?"

Neither of them were thrilled, but Chaff gave me a small drop of morphling for the pain building in my head and helped me get back to my feet. I gave him small thank you, then ignored the disapproving looks I received from Erik as I slipped one of my arms through his. "Lead the way," I grimaced, blinking a few times in a vain attempt to get rid of the black dots in my vision. He said nothing, tightening his hold and leading me out of the house with Eva hot on our heels, just in case I fell back.

By the time we reached the care centre, it was almost time for the Reaping. Erik handed me over to Eva cautiously, scowling in concern at the two of us as we made for the girls dormitories on the right hand side of the building. But as Eva pushed our door open, I staggered through the opening and crumbled to my knees with my hand clamped over my mouth.

"Dear God, Blake!" Eva cursed, hurrying to pick me up gently. "How do you expect to get to the square like this?"

"I'm not missing this, Eva," I glowered at her. "And I'm not giving Riley the satisfaction of dragging me down there either. Just . . . let's get this over with."

"But Blake-"

"Eva," I warned. "Stop." She closed her mouth with an exasperated groan, waving a dismissive hand in my direction and moving to get herself sorted. I took small steps to find my own clothes for the Reaping, gulping down as much cold air as humanly possible.

The two of us dressed in opposite corners of the room in utter silence. A tension was beginning to knot the pit of my stomach tightly, and my hands shook as I adjusted the lace tying my dress up at the back. It was an old, worn white colour that stood out against my heavy tan and dark hair that curled down to my elbows. Carefully working around my wound, I clipped it into place down my back as I scanned my reflection in the mirror. After a moment of careful consideration, I picked my jacket back up and slung it over my shoulders, yanking my hood back over my head.

A little girl hiding, huh? I thought irritably.

"Oh, Blake!" Eva cursed when she noticed. "It's covered in blood."

"It's called making a point," I argued.

"Really? And what's that?"

"That I'm as stupid as they all think I am," I grinned back sarcastically, and she sighed at me exasperatedly.

"I can't wait until today's over," she muttered quietly, shaking her head at me. "Just one more day."

My stomach twisted tighter. Honestly, I wasn't sure I was supposed to hear the last part. But it should have been obvious. This year was the last year Eva and Erik were entered for the Hunger Games, but I still had a whole year after this. Just two more Reapings, I told myself, adjusting Eva's own words. Two more days, and then it's all over.

"Come on then," she sighed, turning to face me properly and offering her arm again. "The quicker this is over, the quicker you can rest and recover." I took her arm with a grateful smile and let her help me down the stairs.

It took longer than normal to get down into the square, and by the time we were there, I thought I was going to black out again. My breath came in short gasps and my head was swimming. Each of the candidates were separated by age and gender, so as Eva and I moved through the register, Eva reluctantly moved up to stand at the very front with the other eighteen year old girls, while I took my rather other steady place behind her with the other seventeen year olds. All of us formed lines in front of the large Justice Building, facing a large flight of stairs that led up to the front doors. Surrounding the square, cameras had been set up, shooting live to the Capitol. Parents and bystanders lined the edges of the square, waiting with baited breath to see who was going to be picked.

After a few minutes, the town Mayor and our District's ambassador to the Capitol exited the Justice Building. I'd never particularly liked our District escort, Flynn - a tall, lanky man with red tattoos all over his face - but this year, he looked worse for wear. His hands shook at his sides nervously, and every now and then, his amber eyes would flick toward the Peacekeepers stood at the side. I tried not to let that worry me, but it was harder than I thought it should have been.

Four chairs had been sat outside the Justice Building, and all were occupied. Two were for Flynn and the Mayor, while the other two were for the only living Victors District 11 currently had. I could see Chaff sat at the end of the row, smiling as pleasantly as he had at me back in the Victors Village. Beside him sat Seeder, an older lady with olive skin and dark hair streaked with silver. Her amber eyes watched over the young girls with an unreadable expression.

Suddenly, the Mayor was stepping forward and welcoming the crowd. He slipped into his usual speech about how the Hunger Games had started, explaining that the Districts had rebelled and we'd brought it on ourselves. The Games were basically a way for the Capitol to humiliate us all. He didn't say it, of course, but it was always implied.

Finally, Flynn stepped forward. To stop his hands shaking, he clenched the stand tightly. "Good evening!" he called, in false, cheery voice that made me shudder with a grimace. "Welcome to the 72nd Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour!"

There was a short, unenthusiastic round of applause, but it cut short as he stepped toward two large glass bowls. For a moment, he wavered and I felt my eyebrows rise. Then he cleared his throat loudly and clapped his hands together. "Ladies first, as always!" he declared, stepping forward and dipping his hand into the right hand bowl. Rustling around the bowl for a slip of paper, he eventually picked one and stepped back to the microphone at the stand.

"And District 11's female tribute is . . . Blake Hart!"

It felt like I'd suddenly shut down. Around me, all the other girls seemed unsure of whether or not to look pitiful or relieved. Flynn's voice calling my name was ringing in my ears. This couldn't be happening. I was numb, from the inside out.

Then the girl beside me nudged me with her elbow harshly, her eyes wide and fearful, and my stomach dropped through the ground and my heart leapt into my throat. Clenching my fists at my sides to stop them shaking, I forced myself to move forward in a sort of trance, determined to keep my expression straight. To the right, I could see Eva, gawping straight ahead of her in fear, and to the left, Erik looked ready to be sick. Everyone else was whispering, pointing at me through the crowds. Apparently, they recognised me from the 'episode' with the Peacekeepers before. I could even see Paula Riley glowering at me in the distance.

Just as I reached the first step up toward the Justice Building, a strangled cry sounded from the back of the square and I spun in surprise. "No!" Horrified, I could do nothing but watch as the little girl from the square, Desirae, bolted straight toward me, tears streaming down her cheeks. Fear clogged my throat and she collided with my stomach, wrapping her arms tightly around my middle as she blubbered. "You can't go!" she sniffed loudly. "You can't leave!"

I gulped hard, eyes widening in shock. I didn't even know the girl. She had large innocent chocolate eyes with mouse brown hair, and even now and then she glanced back toward Layton and Trey for help. Neither of them moved, but that was probably because Layton was rooted to the spot in fear, and Trey was being restrained by half of the other boys around him. I stared at him, stunned, and all I got was a scowl in return.

"Desirae, you need to let go," I mumbled, afraid of breaking down in front of the cameras. The one thing I couldn't stand was innocent children upset and hurt. But the little girl wouldn't release her grip, soaking the side of my dress with her tears. The lump in my throat grew a fraction. "Desirae, please!" I hissed. "Let go!"

She shook her head with a loud sniff. "You can't leave! I won't let you!"

The Peacekeepers started to shuffle forward, and I began to get desperate. I wasn't sure beating them up on live TV would do me any favours. Dragging the little girl's arms away from my middle, I knelt down in front of her and shifted close enough to whisper to her. "You have to get back in line, Des," I urged pathetically, my voice cracking slightly. "Please!"

She sniffed, tears streaming down her face. "You can't leave," she mumbled.

My chest constricted. "You need to get back in line. You need to be here for your family, remember?"

Sniffing loudly, she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed, making my teeth sink into my bottom lip to stop myself from yelping out in pain. She let me go in the same second, stumbling back a step and blinking tears out of her eyes. Pursing my lips, I spun as quickly as I could and strode up the stairs two at a time, my face straight and determined.

"Blake Hart, everyone!" Flynn announced, pulling me closer to stand beside him. Shaking my hand roughly, he cleared his throat again. "So, err . . . was that your younger sister, perhaps?"

I kept my face straight as best as I could. "No," I replied in monotone. "I have no family."

An eerie silence followed, and Flynn shuffled on his feet, turning away from me awkwardly. Shaking himself out, he stepped toward the other bowl with the male names. But he'd left something in my hand, and it took a lot not to frown curiously. Clasping my hands in front of me, I waited patiently for him to call the male tribute forward, unable to shift the twisting in my stomach.

He dipped his hand into the bowl and fished around with his eyes closed for a second. Then, with another dramatic flourish, he pulled a piece of paper out and stepped back to the microphone. "And the male tribute for District 11 is . . . Layton Forge!"

Oh no, I groaned internally, feeling my eyes roll before I could help it.

The crowd was muttering darkly, and as Layton staggered into the middle of the square as uncoordinated as a toddler, I could see the Head Peacekeeper Paula Riley smirking in the background. Desirae was crying inconsolably, being dragged back by a sickened looking Trey. By the sound of the crowd, Layton's lack of balance was well-known among most of the District 11's inhabitants. Some of the adults were scowling as they watched him lumber up the stairs. Others looked ready to be sick. Vaguely, I wondered how many of them believed in coincidence.

I kept my expression straight with great difficulty, eyes fixed on the boy. He glanced briefly in my direction, the panic evident in his eyes. Carefully, I shook my head a fraction to the side and back again. His eyes widened and he gulped as he staggered on the last step.

"Well!" Flynn laughed awkwardly. "Congratulations to Mr Forge!" Layton shifted uncomfortably, taking Flynn's hand reluctantly. Without a word, he took his place at the other side of the microphone. "Mr Mayor? Any last words of encouragement?"

I didn't really listen to what the Mayor had to say next. Instead, I found myself rolling the slip of paper Flynn had given me between my hands. Why would he do that? What did it say? And how was I supposed to survive the Hunger Games with Layton Forge as back-up?

I couldn't decide which was worse; knowing I was going to fail, or that I had to try my hardest anyway.

When the Mayor finished talking, Flynn placed his hands on our shoulders and pulled us together. Layton looked sick and his hand quivered as he stretched it out toward me. "Smile," Flynn told us through his teeth. "You're on camera, remember?" I tried not to scowl at him, but I certainly couldn't make myself smile. Instead, I took Layton's hand quickly, then allowed myself to be steered toward my new mentor, Seeder. She grimaced at me once, and led me into the Justice Building.

And as I stepped through the doors, I couldn't help thinking that this could be the last day I ever spent in District 11.