Welcome, everyone, to Knives! It's the 27th Hunger Games, everyone! Whoo whoo! In case you cannot tell, I am super excited for this fic. I'm laptop246, and I'm one of your cowriters for this story. I'm also the author of Resistance, which was where Knives got its roots. Don't worry, we explain everything that happened in Resistance, for those of you who never read, and those of you that have forgotten what happened ;) So, everyone, be nice and raise the roof for Estella Mason!

*Estella Mason's POV*

Birds tweeted peacefully outside my window. A mockingjay called somewhere in the distance. I turned over, snuggling my face in my warm pillow, despising the idea of getting up. A sense, sharpened by my many years of training, nagged me to get up. Big day, it whispered, big day. I made a face and murmured to my pillow, "All the more reason to stay in bed."

"Talking to yourself, Ell?" wondered a voice from across the room.

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked to where Kathi (short for Katherine) was doing Sparkle's brown hair into careful plaits. "It is Reaping Day, you know," Kathi reminded me. I groaned and leaned back against my pillows. Slowly, the room came into focus. It was painted a delicate shade of blue, like the sky just before noon, and was scattered with furniture, including the two beds and the four plush armchairs. We didn't really need all the furniture, but we had too much money to know what to do with, and weren't allowed to give any away. Instead, we tended to spend it on little things that benefited the district more than they did us.

"I don't know why I have to dress up," Sparkle complained, shaking her head to feel the plaits smack the backs of her neck. "I can't get Reaped."

"But you'll still be there, and being recorded. Plus, it's the law." Kathi reminded her, sitting back and motioning to the floor mirror. "What do you think?"

Sparkle took one look at herself in the mirror. "I look beautiful." she made a face. "I don't want to look beautiful today. Not for the Reaping."

I gasped comically at this statement, rolling off the bed in mock horror. "Did you hear that, Kath?" I gasp, my mouth full of carpet lint. "Sparkle doesn't want to be beautiful!"

Kathi played along beautifully, gasping right along with me and recoiling in horror from Sparkle. "Barbaric!"

Sparkle looked annoyed. "Please, you're as bad as the prep teams." That shut me and Kathi up immediately. The prep team, Cario, Hezi, and Marinah, were from the Capitol. They were completely shallow and absolutely ridiculous. They visited sometimes when they "missed Lystra just too desperately to go on," but I suspected that they were gathering gossip for one of the Capitol's many reporters. If they were, though, they were getting nothing. We didn't do anything illegal, and it was silly to even think of us doing something that the Capitol may be interest in. Well, excluding my training, of course. But we'd never tell the Capitol that.

I walked over to Sparkle and adjusted her plaits. "Well, I think you look charming, Reaping Day or no."

"Really?" Sparkle's large brown eyes were gazing up at me. I laughed and tapped her lightly freckled nose, "Really."

There was a sharp knock on the door. I did a quick glance-around to make sure everything was decent, and then called, "Come in!" Issac, my only true relative, walked in, bringing the smell of a delicious breakfast with him. I looked at his outfit approvingly. Lystra had her old designer, Vincent, design us our outfits on Reaping Day, because, as she says, he gets bored with his job otherwise. Issac's is a white shirt and dark pants that set off the dark color of his skin (a trait we share) nicely.

"Hey, sis," he began conversationally. "Lystra wanted me to remind you to hurry. Rayne's eating all the food."

Sparkle's gasp was audible. "She wouldn't."

Issac nodded grimly. "She is."

"RAYNE!" Sparkle ran from the room in a tornado of indignity, leaving us chuckling quietly in her wake.

"You sure know how to get to her," I commented approvingly. Issac beamed at me. "We'll be down soon," I say. "I've just got to get ready."

"She only just woke up," Kathi teased.

I stuck my tongue out at her. "You aren't ready yet, either." Issac laughed and ducked out of the room, closing the door securely behind him. I stared at it a moment. How Issac and I had changed from frightened, dirty, and poor orphans to confident and rich, surrounded by people that loved us like family.

"All right, let's get to work." Kathi, who was more into fashion that I was, whisked me off to the closet. "Those are what we'll be wearing," she said, pointing towards the back of the large closet, where two dresses sat on a side table. One, is white and is delicately embroidered with pictures of birds. It is shorter than the other, and obviously made to fit Kathi's fourteen year old frame. The other is purple and much more mature for me, sixteen. It is simple at the top, with one inch straps and a modest but flattering at the same time curve. The skirts of both dresses fan out and have many layers of silk and delicate flats. Perfect for dancing.

Kathi could not help but sqealing in delight when she put on her dress. She rustled her skirts and stomped her foot as though starting to participate in one of the dances that Lystra sometimes held for Kathi in the center of the Victor's Village. Kathi was always the belle of the dances, with her expensive dresses and her amazing dancing skill. She's not rude to the others, though. She's quite social able, and after each dance, she gave the dress to another girl, who needed it more. I danced at the dances as well, sometimes dancing, sometimes composing melodies off the top of my head. It was one of the few times that I was able to be an actual girl. I strayed from the boy-girl dances when at all possible, preferring the single dances instead. But, in the room then, I mimicked one.

I held out my hand and lowered my eyes. "May I?" I asked, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kathi's grin. She stomped her right foot and swept her left behind it. Her back bowed slightly, she called, "Hey!"

We began to circle each other, stomping and clapping until we establish a steady beat. Then we began to wave past each other in a familiar pattern. When we were comfortable in the rythem and the motions, I began a lively song to match the dance. After I established the melody, Kathi closed her eyes, and stomped twice. "Hey!" The dance quickened and, hair flying and eyes shining, we did too, blurs of white and purple on a blue sky.

I was vaguely aware of someone joining us, but was too focused on the song to pay it much mind. Step, clap, stomp, spin, stomp, clap, step, pause, stomp ... clap, clap, clap! Kathi and I finished suddenly, facing each other, "Hey!"

There was a round of smart clapping, and I spun around to see Lystra smiling by the door with Rayne, who is the one clapping. Rayne's smile doesn't reach her eyes and it doesn't take me a moment to figure out why. She is thinking of how, three years ago, she was with her family, seeing them for the last time. Of course, she hadn't known that then, but it had nagged at her for the past three years.

Rayne had been a tribute in Lystra's game, but had taken a potion near the end that made her appear dead, but was really in a deep sleep. Lystra had recued Rayne from District 4's watery grave shortly after Rayne's "funeral."

I could still hear the argument that she and Lystra had had before the Victory Tour. Rayne had wanted to come and at least see her family, but Lystra had refused to take even a note. Rayne had snuck onto the train after taking an appearance changing potion and disguising herself as a redheaded Avox. Lystra was fooled. However, she did catch Rayne changing back as they neared 4. Lystra, livid, had raged til they reached an agreement. Lystra revised her speech to include the line, "Rayne lives." It was similar to a line she had used at the funeral, so no one suspected a thing. Thus Rayne's family was told the truth and Rayne was kept safe. But she still missed 4 sometimes. I couldn't imagine leaving 11. The very thought boded evil.

Lystra also had trepidation in her gaze, memories of the past. I wondered if she was thinking of Tanner, her district partner, in particular. Tanner was (well, had been) Kathi's older brother. Lystra had fallen in love with him in the middle of her Games. Whenever she missed him, she would murmur something about him coming back in 50 - 27, now - years to join her and finish it all. Sometimes I wondered if her Games had left her a bit insane.

"Singing on Reaping Day," she muttered. "Dangerous."

I turned my head in embarrassment. It was a song on Reaping Day that had gotten Lystra into the Games in the first place and may still get me, Sparkle, Issac, and Kathi reaped in the future. Me, especially, since I had started the song. The thought sunk my spirits. This might have been my last day home. Ever.

"Dancing is lucky, as Dad says," Kathi put in.

Lystra smiled faintly. "Dad or Poppa?" she teased. Kathi lived next door with 11's only victor other than Lystra, Kayton Roys, ever since Kathi's family, the Lawsons's, house had fallen beyond repair. Kathi had become close to us in the Lystra's house, particularly Lystra's father. She had taken to calling him 'Dad' and her own father 'Poppa,' an example the rest of us children followed. Kathi's mother we simply dubbed, 'Momma.' As for Kayton, Rayne, and Lystra, we called them by their first names, even Sparkle, who was technically the legally adopted child of Lystra.

"Dad," Kathi smiled.

I looked to Rayne, and, in an attempt to lighten the mood, said, "Issac said that you ate all the breakfast." Rayne, always accountable for her mood swings, grinned, patted her stomach, and belched. Kathi made a face and stepped away, which made me laugh.

The mood lightened, Lystra stepped forward and touched my hair, still tangled from sleep. "Your dress looks nice, but we really should fix this."

I laugh again because it makes Lystra smile. "What did Vincent suggest?"

"He sent me something," Lystra shrugged. "I don't know how to use it, though." We both laughed at that. The Capitol's many machines were foreign to us. "Shall I put it in a ponytail?"

"Yes, please." That was how Lystra wore her own hair in the arena. I liked the thought of sharing this with her.

Kathi and I sat on Sparkle's bed with Lystra and Rayne sat behind us. I felt the familiar tug on my hair as Lystra took up the brush. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to think of my mother. She had died giving birth to Issac, with my father beside her, Issac in her arms, and me staring on, wide-eyed. I remembered her last words to me, "Fly high, my bird. Bloom, my apple blossom." That was when she gave me her treasured golden apple locket. "Take care of Issac." She looked not to my father, but to me when she said this. Had she known that Father would not live the next month, that he would kill himself out of missing her?

I shook myself back to the present. I couldn't afford to think about that. Not on Reaping Day.

Kathi said to Rayne, "Do it like you did back in 4." Rayne's face flooded with memories, but she didn't appear bitter - just ... gone. Her hands seemed to move automatically as she put tiny braids into Kathi's hair and then a winding braid to enclose them down her back. Kathi stroked the glossy braids and leapt to the mirror, using a hand mirror to examine the back. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"It keeps the hair out of the way on the boats." Rayne said. "and it's in the fashions of District 4." I examined my own hair. Lystra had smoothed its curls using a heated brush from the Capitol and drawn it back with a hairpin depicting a mockingjay in flight. I smiled at them all and we headed down to breakfast.

"Ella! Kathi!" Sparkle was digging into scalloped potatoes, looking especially happy. "Momma made more!"

Kathi turned to Rayne in mock horror. "You really did eat it all?" Rayne didn't answer, only looked away in a slightly abashed manner.

"Good morning," I sat between Dad and Poppa. They reply in muted tones, and load my plate with cobblers, potatoes, fruit topped with sugar, and even the rare piece of fresh meat: bacon. I devoured this with special relish and looked to the clock. 12:11. "The reporters will be here soon," Kayton, her hair done nicely, but otherwise unchanged, said. I sighed and helped Momma pick up the dishes. Then we all piled in to the sitting room, fussing over each other. Rayne saluted us and headed into the forest, one of her appearance-changing potions clutched tightly in her hand.

The interview with the Capitol reporters was long and falsely cheery. They wanted to know everything about me and my past life, but I told them no more than usual; that Issac and I were orphans and friends of Lystra. Part of me itched to tell them about my training with Lystra, Rayne, and Kayton; to tell them how Kathi and the others had started too; that we would win their Games if reaped ... but I held back. Besides, where would they get us but trouble?

We headed to the Reaping as a group, trailed by reporters and cameras. Lystra placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder and I saw she did the same to Kathi. We are the two who could be Reaped this year. We are the ones in danger.

We reached the square all too soon. I could feel the cameras on us as we parted. Momma, Dad, Poppa, Sparkle, and Issac would stand in the back with the other families. Lystra and Kayton would be on the stage as the only victors of District 11. Rayne would be somewhere in the crowd, her appearance changed. And Kathi and I would be in the pens.

I gave them all a hug. Issac, who looked scared, whispered, "Don't go."

"It'll be okay," I whispered, giving him a squeeze. "I'll be right back." I grabbed Kathi's hand and turned before I could doubt myself. We hurry to the pens, as time is running out. I see her to hers and hug her before hurrying off to mine, purple skirts rustling.

I found myself standing beside Sophia, a girl in my grade. We give each other tense nods, both too scared of what's coming for idle conversation. I see she is wearing one of Kathi's old dresses, and am heartened. Kathi would be glad to see it put to use.

I rustled my own skirts in nervousness. I gazed at the glass balls with a kind of desperate look. My name was in them only 7 times. I was not forced to sign up for tesserae. The shivering, untrained children around me had much more to fear. But they hadn't offended the Capitol. I shivered. I could almost feel the cameras zooming in on me, taking me in in detail ...

As the clock struck two, our mayor stepped forward to read the History of Panem as well as the Treaty of Treason. He tells us what he has to and doesn't even pretend that he or any of us care. His voice is a dull monotone that brightens as he introduces Kayton and Lystra as the only District 11 victors of the Hunger Games. The audience's applause is heartfelt. In 11, we are rather attached to our victors.

Emerald Grey, the flouncing Capitol woman that acted as guide to the District 11 tributes, was sporting orange, the signature color of this year's games. She looked as bright as the pumpkins we harvested in the fall. I shiver as I think of the old horror stories that we whispered from worker to worker as we plucked them from their vines; the stories of men with heads of pumpkins, riding through the night ... Emerald, with her bright orange hair, eyes, and even skin, was a creature straight from those tales.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she called to us. We clapped in our usual dull manner, and more than a few people were staring at Emerald's insane getup. She intones what an honor it is to host us. Better than District 12, I thought in her accent. Despite the tense atmosphere, I was hard pressed to suppress a snort.

"Ladies, ladies!" she called, trotting over to the glass ball with the names of all the girls in the district inside of it. "Who will be our lucky tribute, eh?" Unlucky, I silently correct her, though with less relish. My heart is hammering, and I can tell that Sophia beside me is suffering similar side effects. My years of training make me want to run instinctively, but there are so many Peacekeepers around, I would be stopped quickly. And I would dishonor Lystra, which was the last thing I wanted to do after she'd taken me in, trained me, and done so much more.

Electricity is searing through the crowd as Emerald takes out the slip of paper. On it is the name of the unlucky girl. I look up to the podium, where Emerald smooth down the piece of paper. Behind her, Lystra sits. I see her neck crane to see the name. She stops moving. Completely. I know that she's seen. Her expression shows shock for a moment before becoming carefully guarded again. Her eyes search for me and meet me, and I feel the gong of recognition went off at me. My heart sank. It was me.

"Estella Mason." Emerald's voice was crisp and clear. There was no mistaking the words. The rang with finality, and, shaking, I stepped forward into the isle. The other children parted to let me through, staring at me. They all knew me, of course. I was the girl that lives with Lystra Fay Gull and disappears into the woods every few days. I was the girl that didn't work when she didn't want to and didn't go to school often, either. I was the girl that sings at the dances in the Victor's Village square.

I mounted the stage, my back to the audience so that I was facing Emerald, Kayton, and Lystra. Kayton and Lystra's faces were guarded, though a bit of Lystra's dread seeped through her mask. I was sure my face was openly distressed, and quickly covered it, focusing on Emerald. "You are Estella Mason?" she asked, smiling at me with happiness I couldn't manage to feel.

"Yes," I agreed with a nod. I couldn't bring myself to smile. A mask of indifference was all that I could manage as Emerald held up my hand. "District 11, your female tribute, Estella Mason!" there was dull clapping, less that usual, I flattered myself by thinking.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Emerald dropped my hand and trotted off to the glass ball for the boys. I forced myself to face my district. Some were glancing at the ball in anticipation. Others were still staring at me in shock. Those in the Victor's Village were supposed to be safe. But there I was on the stage, living proof that no one is safe. Exactly as the Capitol wanted it to be.

Emerald took the slip and cleared her throat delicately before announcing, "Cletus Rempburg." A tall, burly boy with many scars mounted the stage, his hands curled into fists and a look of grim satisfaction on his face. He gave me a look of complete contempt and my heart plummeted to my feet. Oh, the Capitol was cruel. Emerald lifted his hand as she had mine. "District 11, your male tribute, Cletus Rempburg!" His clapping is dull like the rest, and I wonder if some of them recognize him. It'd be hard not to.

Cletus's parents died about two years ago, suddenly. There was no marks of injury or disease, and was, altogether, a terrifying event. No one slept well for month later, but the occurance did not repeat. Cletus went desperate with grief and vowed revenge on whomever had killed his parents. Not long after, he was wandering through the woods (which was, of course, illegal, but select few ventured anyway) and, by chance, happened upon where I was practicing throwing knives into a dummy. Cletus, who was by this point, more than a bit insane, had thought the dummies to be people and run off before I could say a thing.

The following night, he had snuck into Lystra's house in the intent of killing me, thinking that I had murdered his parents. He had only just entered the room when, trained by then to wake at the slightest noise, I jumped upon him with my knife and disarmed him. "Don't move," I hissed to him, in the darkness, not being able to tell who it was. My mind was racing with thoughts of Capitol reporters. Was this their way of getting information. Sparkle was awoken by the noise and began to wail. Lystra and Rayne, whose room was closest, were in the room in an instant, turning on the light and yelling. I got my first look at my attacker. The moment I saw it was Cletus, I relaxed my grip and Cletus forced me back and leapt out of the window. I threw my knife at his blurry figure, but caught only air.

I woke the next morning to Capitol reporters outside our doors. Cletus had somehow gotten word to them that I was a mass murderer, had killed his parents, and was going to kill him. Lystra, livid, contacted the mayor at once, and they arranged to have Cletus sent to the local asylum, where he was under firm guard. More than once, however, Cletus had managed to escape and come after me, coming surprisingly close to killing me. He was yet to succeed.

Yet, I think grimly. Lystra and I have long since had our suspicions that the Reaping is rigged. I sang the rebellious song, and I was Reaped. And, to keep me from winning like Lystra did, they put Cletus in too. They may have been planning this for years. They may have killed Cletus's parents; directed him towards me in the forest. I frown. This means the Capitol knows more about us than we would like.

I glance at Cletus, who is smiling at me in grim satisfaction. I shudder, because I know Cletus cannot wait to kill me.