A/N: Luke's POV

I was sitting between Finnick and Mas and wondering what I had done.

Obviously, I had volunteered for the Hunger Games. My trainer at the Academy said I was as ready as I was going to get, and that I should go for it when I felt up to it.

Perhaps I should have waited until I was a bit older.

But Ligeia Roach had volunteered and gotten in and I wanted her on my team, I knew that much.

I had had a normal life in District Four, son of fishermen, spent my days at the sea when I wasn't at school or in training. I never thought anything exciting would ever happen to me. In fact, I figured I would be one of those volunteers who tried for several years but was always elbowed out by others. That was why I'd even volunteered at fifteen.

The boy from District One was absolutely massive and dangerous looking.

When he had volunteered, I had been just waking up, my older sister shaking me awake, she herself in her first year after eligibility.

She had volunteered four years in a row with no success. I volunteered the first time and got chosen.

I had eaten fried fish and hash browns for breakfast. It was my favorite, and my mother made it for me every reaping day. I had showered, dressed in my nicest clothes, and allowed my sister to brush my hair, which was her favorite thing to do for me on reaping day, even though it was short and I was perfectly capable of handling it myself.

Being from District Four, my own reaping was before lunch. I had lined up with my classmates, anxiously waiting to volunteer. I didn't even listen to who was called out. It never mattered. Rarely did a reaping go by without at least one volunteer for each gender in District Four.

Actually, the last time that had happened was only two years ago, when Finnick Odair had been reaped, but he'd won, so it didn't really matter.

But as soon as they announced the female, Ligeia rushed forward to volunteer. She was a pretty girl with dark curls and deep green eyes. A distant sort of cousin of hers had actually volunteered in Finnick's year, but she'd died. Obviously. Stella, her name had been.

When my turn came, I volunteered, and somehow only two other boys went for it, but I was chosen.

Finnick shook my hand, and the pair of us was led off to the Justice Building where we awaited our friends and family to say goodbye.

As my family and friends filed in and out of the room for their three minutes of goodbyes with me, I noticed a small, blonde girl playing in the hall.

Her name was Brielle Weber, the mayor's daughter, and she had an unhealthy obsession with the Games. She was nine, as everyone knew, because she had started training two years early, at seven, probably just to keep from driving her father crazy. She was too young for me to really know her, but from what I'd seen of her and what I'd heard, she was quite a spoiled little brat. She was watching Ligeia's closed door with hungry eyes, as if wishing she could have volunteered in her place.

And then we had been ushered onto the train, where we had eaten lunch, showered, changed, had dinner, and then began to watch the replay of the reaping.

There was another large boy in District six named Black. Finnick paid particular attention to District Seven, which had been the winning district the previous year with Scarlett Delannoy.

"Charlotte Jacobson," he said to Mags, referring to the girl who had been reaped. "She looks like she's Scarlett's age."

"Yes, and they've got some history," Mags commented blandly. "Did you see the way they shook hands? Looked like they were trying to break each other's bones. I'm sure there's an interesting story in there somewhere."

I hadn't noticed the nonverbal tension or exchange, but Mags had been doing this for generations. I did notice that Charlotte's eyes were a bit shifty, like she was already plotting something.

There was a dark-haired, strong-looking seventeen-year-old from District Ten named Draven, but other than that, nobody really made an impression on reaping day. It wasn't uncommon. Usually only the prettiest, strongest, and Careers made any sort of immediate impressions.

I wondered what my sister was doing. Probably sleeping, or maybe finishing up the last bit of dinner, jealous of me, but glad she could eat my helping of rolls. She loved rolls. Sometimes I would sneak half of mine to her under the table, not because I didn't want it or I wasn't hungry, but because Rebeccanne never got what she wanted if I didn't give it to her.

She was a sweet girl, but not particularly engaging. She got on fine in school, but she hadn't been exceptionally bright. She was descent-looking, but she certainly hadn't been blessed with beauty like Ligeia, just as I certainly was nothing to look at compared with Finnick Odair. I had been the child who had made my parents happiest, top of my grade, well-liked…but my sister was my world and I did everything I could to make her as happy as I possibly could manage.

She had hoped to volunteer, win the Hunger Games, and finally earn some respect from everyone who knew the both of us, but even that I had managed to get ahead of her on, despite the fact that it was completely random. We had both been randomly selected from a group of volunteers.

It wasn't as though she wouldn't be proud of me, though. Jealous, certainly, but proud. We loved each other very much, and I knew that if I won, I would buy my sister everything she ever asked for ever again, and even many things she would be too modest to ask for, like beautiful clothes or jewelry.

There were night clothes in the drawers of the train car I was sleeping in, so I pulled on a silky blue set and crawled under the covers. It was a bit surreal, curling up under such nice sheets in such nice clothes on a Capitol train, knowing I would be in the Capitol the following day. The next night I would be on a chariot in some sort of costume, being presented to all of Panem as a District Four tribute for the 67th Hunger Games. My heart raced with excitement just thinking about it.

I stared at the darkened wall of the train car, thinking about what the Capitol would look like, how different the people would be, if I would have a good costume for the chariot. My pulse was faster than I ever remembered it going before and I got up, unable to sleep, heading back out to the main car where the television was still going, replaying the reaping again. Finnick was watching it, jotting down notes. I was glad my mentor was so obviously dedicated.

"Hey," I said, sitting down beside him, finding it strange that he was not even a year older than me, but that he was my main lifeline in the world outside the arena.

"Hey," he replied. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," I answered, "you?"

"Thought I ought to watch this again," he muttered unconvincingly. I looked down at his notes. He had nothing for District Seven, despite having watched them twice.

"Right," I said, trying to think of what that meant. "Right."

"We could work on your strategy while we're both up, if you'd like," he said, stretching. "How do you feel about being in the Games, Luke?"

How did I feel?

"Honored, of course," I said quietly. "How am I supposed to feel?"

He laughed.

"Scared out of your mind."

When his laughter died down, he pulled out a little piece of paper and started jotting things down. I saw names.

"Here's the list of people you'll want on your side at the beginning," he sighed.

Sebatien, Violet, Finley, Catriona, Ligeia, Blake, Cephalus, Charlotte, Draven. Districts One, Two, Seven, and the boys from Six and Ten. And Ligeia, of course.

"Careers will rule the pack, whether you manage to snag any of the others or not," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Blake might join you, unless he's got some big secret. He's young. Sebatien will likely lead the pack. He's the oldest, strongest…. Not horrible looking. He'll get plenty of sponsors. You do as he says until he's dead. Then you follow next in line."

"Who's next in line?" I asked nervously.

"It's tough to say before the Games start," Finnick muttered, running his finger along his notes and scribbling circles in the margin as he thought. "Maybe Finley or Catriona. You and Ligeia are bottom of the pack unless you get amazing training scores or display impressive skills within the arena itself. Basically, they'll follow who leads and the leader will be whoever they follow. Be sure not to step forward as a leader until they look to you."

I nodded. I hadn't expected to be a leader, hadn't even wanted to be a leader. I'd always been great at getting others to play well together, but never from any leading position. I could diffuse tensions, but I couldn't give orders. Not like I had seen Aidan do the year before. In that way, being the bottom of the Career pack could be a blessing.

On the other hand, I would be the first target when the pack split, when it got to that point.

I tried to think positive thoughts. Finnick was still tracing his notes with his finger, a thoughtful expression lining his face.

"Who do you think is going to win?" I said quietly.

He looked up at me, a little startled, as if he hadn't remembered I was there.

"What?"

"Who do you think is going to win?"

"Oh, wow, that's tough to say," he said, rubbing his neck thoughtfully. "Blake's young, but he's a decent choice. Probably the best odds are going to be on Sebastien. But it can depend on all sorts of things."

"Like what?" I asked, flicking the stem of a cherry across the table absently.

"Like the arena," he sighed, flexing his fingers. "I had a lake, Aidan had a river. You might not have any water at all. Will you know what to do if there's no water, Luke?"

No water? There had to be water somewhere. They couldn't just make an arena where they watched us all die of thirst. It would be over in record time.

"What do you mean by no water?" I said slowly. "Like…limited resources?"

"I don't know," Finnick laughed. "I don't make the Games. Let's say you've got no trees for shelter. Like, I don't know, all that's there is sand for miles. What do you do?"

I didn't think such a scenario would come up, but if it did, I supposed I would be better off for thinking it through.

"Well," I said slowly, "I guess there's the sand, right? So I could burrow in it…hide myself, wait for other tributes to come along and kill them before they see me."

"Good," Finnick said, nodding. "But how do you find water?"

"There's…an oasis?"

"No."

I growled with frustration.

"How can you find water if there's no water?"

He smiled a little.

"Exactly. You need sponsors. Don't waste your energy on things you have no control over. Adjust your strategy when you do have control, and pray you interest enough people in the Capitol to earn some sponsors. That's a strategy in and of itself, right there."

I sighed. The sun was starting to make itself visible out the window.

"I'd better get some sleep," Finnick mumbled. "See you at breakfast."

After my talk with Finnick, refocusing my mind, I found it much easier to sleep as well. In fact, when I woke up later, I realized it was nearly time for breakfast, and I made my way to the others hardly sleepy at all.

Ligeia was already eating some bread, dipping it in hot chocolate, her pretty dark curls tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, yawning a little as she dunked the bread.

"Good morning, Luke," Mags said sweetly. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough, thank you," I said, sitting down beside her. "You?"

"Quite well. It seems Ligeia needs more sleep than the rest of us combined," Mags joked. Finnick came in looking fully refreshed and wonderful as always. "Sleep well, Finnick?" she asked.

"Oh, as well as usual, Mags," he said, kissing her forehead gently. "How are our lovely tributes on this fine morning?"

Ligeia let out an impatient, annoyed huff and the rest of us laughed. She turned to me and narrowed her eyes and I stopped laughing immediately.

Girls could be temperamental, and I didn't want something I said or did before the Games to get me killed in my sleep. After all, her cousin had killed an ally in their sleep, so I couldn't rule it out.

"Any advice for dealing with the stylists?" Ligeia muttered into her cup of hot chocolate.

"Let them have their way," Mags said insistently. "You want to make the stylist happy, keep them on your side. They're all chosen for a reason, and ours have done a very good job in recent years. Remember, the better stylists work their way up to places like District Four, so they know their stuff, they know the Games. Nobody just starts out in Four."

"Unless they're really, really rich," Finnick joked. "Or related to Snow."

Mags gave him what seemed to be an indulgent, grandmotherly smile, and nodded.

Ligeia sniffed, not at the fact that she had to trust in the skills of her stylist. No, I was certain she was sniffing at Finnick, just on general principle. After all, he'd killed her cousin.

Most people in District Four understood. Sure, most people avoided killing someone in their own District, but it happens, and Finnick and Stella weren't even allies, much less friends. Most people had accepted the fact that Finnick had had to kill her to survive and did not begrudge him her death, but for family it was harder. Ligeia would probably never like Finnick very much.

Finnick helped himself to a rather large breakfast, winking at me as he grabbed four pieces of toast on top of his already piled up plate. Mags chuckled at him.

"What?" he said, jokingly indignant. "It's a lot of hard work, being a mentor. Being charming all of the time burns an awful lot of calories. And you know Scarlett's eating about three times this much."

The two of them shared a laugh.

That struck me as odd, of course, because how would Finnick know Scarlett Delannoy's eating habits?

But then, he would have been at the feast when she came through on her Victory Tour. But everybody eats a lot at those. Perhaps the mentors were all closer than any of us realized.

I supposed it made sense for the mentors to befriend each other. After all, who better could understand the experience of surviving the arena than someone else who had survived the arena? I hadn't experienced it yet myself, but I knew that it was going to be difficult, possibly the death of me, and unlike anything I'd ever been trained for. Training alone was almost never enough. Would I be in that elite group soon, the ones who understood what surviving the arena was like?

I certainly hoped so. I didn't want to think about what my family would think if I died.

"Oh, there it is," Ligeia said casually, pointing to the window where we could see the glittering Capitol. We both stood, going to the window, looking out at the incredible city below us.

I could see cars on the candy-colored streets, going slowly as the streets flooded with people trying to get a glimpse of the train as it went by, waving at us, eager to see us. I waved as calmly and confidently as I could, partly for the audience, partly to not seem scared next to Ligeia who was sure to be taking in my actions and thinking of me as competition, partly for myself. I would not be scared, even though I was allowing myself to fee a bit nervous, anyway. Nervous was fine. Scared was not.

I turned back away from the window and saw Finnick watching us with a blank sort of look, taking us in, then turning to his notes, running his finger down the page, frowning slightly, then looking back at Ligeia and me. Was he thinking about my strategy? Was he weighing my charm or strength against the other competitors? How could he even weigh such a thing with so little time around me, with only a few moments on a television screen of the others?

But perhaps there was some natural ability that all the victors gained in victory on knowing about the Games, knowing what to expect, being able to read the people and the situations, knowing who would be the ones to beat and who would die quickest and who would be utterly forgettable. I hoped I would be one of the ones to beat.

But I probably wouldn't be.

I turned away from the window as the train came to a stop, grabbing one last piece of toast as I stood there, waiting for Finnick and Mags to usher us out into the sunlight, onto the Capitol platform, into the world where the rest of our lives would begin.

That is, the rest of our lives for at least one of us, but I reasoned that if one of us was going to live, while it would probably Ligeia, it wouldn't do any good to think now that it would be anyone other than me. I didn't want to give up before I'd even started.