Your Own Kind

by Seta Suzume

What comes after. Mags as a mentor; Mags as a victor. [sequel to Save Yourself]

13. Part III, Chapter III

I celebrate turning nineteen with Papa and my club and whatever friends and siblings they can drag to my house for the event. I know that in keeping the gathering self-centered it will be allowed now and, presumably, in the future. I order a box of shiny foil pinwheels from the Capitol (though it seems they may have initially been made in 1) and give them out to whoever wants one. Papa, his ship hands, and Mr. Armain fry up a bunch of shrimp. Faline makes lemonade with her mother and dyes it pink. There's a chocolate cake decorated with a rainbow of colored sprinkles from a place Down-District recommended by Peterzeno.

I receive a semi-surprise visit from Nar and a couple of television people, who take some footage of my party- of the food, of the guests, of the music playing on a beat-up old record player that belongs to 'Lito's father. I don't have a piñata for my celebration, but Zeno tries very earnestly to explain what one is and how it's made and why people in the Capitol might like one. I think the cameras are happier to hang on Faline and Zeno than on me- and it's my birthday. Of course, I don't mind if nothing bad will come of this attention, but I worry more and more about the way the Capitol's collective eye lands on people and the way that it looks.

Russula Pert, the casual sort of reporter who will be the face of the segment (Nar just laughs when I suggest that he's going to appear on television) asks me easy questions about how I feel to be nineteen ("No different"), what I'd like for my birthday ("Just to have a fun day, really"), and if I have a message for my fans in the Capitol ("Thank you for all your support and please have a nice day too"). Then she breaks out the officially vetted fanmail and I sit on my porch and read aloud several sets of friendly good wishes and respond to them off the cuff while Faline sits beside me and laughs at my answers.

A handful of packages from my fellow victors are easier to know how to accept. From Shy comes a homemade card- a piece of felt embroidered with flowers, from Kayta and Raisin a sort of sachet thing that smells like pines, from Hector and Gerik a bandanna in bright 2 colors, and from Silk and Pal a patchwork scarf. Russula mopes about how unfortunate it is that Silk's birthday is virtually always guaranteed to fall during the Games and, therefore, not be able to stand out will mine as its own celebration. "Silk will be sixteen this year," she reminds our audience.

That makes it sound like the time has passed quickly. Silk will still be fifteen for many more months.

Russula goes on to tell me about what a big fuss Jack made about wanting to be allowed to come along and join the party himself and how he's probably back in his apartment sulking, "right this very minute," about how they had to turn him down. "If it had been up to me," Russula pats my shoulder sympathetically, "I would certainly have brought the dear man along. …But I'm sure you understand how these things go, Mags."

"Yes," I nod, "I know."

When the cameras are off again and Estelle and Maria are busy feeding cake to a more flirtatious member of the camera crew, Nar approaches me about the matter of Jack. "He really should have known better than to ask," Nar sighs, "Meeting up in the Capitol is one thing, but we really can't allow district citizens- even victors- to cross district boundaries willy-nilly. And if exceptions are going to be made for the Beech-Hiro wedding- which I think they are- all the more reason we have to be conservative in other matters."

"I wouldn't have advised him to do it," I sigh.

"I assumed as much. …In any case, thank you for your general cooperation throughout the year and happy birthday." Nar shakes my hand.

"Thank you."

Jack gives me a call in the evening after everyone has gone home- after, I think, the footage of my party has aired. "Happy birthday. …I wish I could've been there."

"You shouldn't have tried," I insist, tired, lying down on my bed as I talk. "There was no way they would've let you."

"Hope springs eternal?" he suggests. I can picture him shrugging as he says it. "…and don't think that means I only meant for my presence to be my gift to you. I bought you a book. But I'd rather give it to you in person."

"Well, there'll be the wedding or… I guess I'm not too busy to come see you just about anytime."

"Anytime?" he switches tracks, "Tomorrow? …Are you too shy to stay overnight at my place? Because I bet you could be here by tomorrow night if that isn't a problem and I could even cook you breakfast."

He doesn't mean something like. Like moving so fast. I don't think.

My pause must seem to last a long time.

"Or something else? It's up to you. I'll go along with whatever you decide."

"…How about…is there a train I can take overnight? Not tonight, but tomorrow night. And I'll come and meet you early in the morning?"

"I take it that breakfast was a good offer."

I advise Jack not to press his luck, though my feelings aren't actually mixed at all. I have free time and it would be nice to see him again.

Everything is worked out with a minimum of trouble. It's still awkward telling Papa what I'm going off to do, but he doesn't seem to mind. There should be a group 'get together' while I'm gone, but I ask Rodrigo to take care of it. He seems to enjoy being delegated this responsibility.

I end up enjoying the overnight train ride into the Capitol. There are other people, Capitol citizens, I gather, traveling in another car on the same train, but according to the serving Avoxes' hand gestures, they got drunk and went to sleep early. I ask everyone if their work is finished and if it is, would they like to stay up a while with me, and, as a result, I end up watching a terrible movie about cowboys in District 10 with three Avoxes. They seem to enjoy the movie (for values of "enjoy" that include laughing at things that are obviously poorly made and kind of terrible). I'm not that hungry, but I offer to treat them, using my birthday as an excuse, and I have an entire box of tiny, pre-made cakes charged to my account since it seems like an easy thing to share and doesn't require anyone to get back into the kitchen car and actually cook anything.

Some of the lower level train staff, the ones I assume are District 6 people, laugh at me in the morning when we arrive in the Capitol and I awake from an awkward sleep in a stuffed chair with chocolate frosting smudged on my face.

"Good morning!" Jack greets me on the platform. He looks to have slept just fine.

"Hi…is it okay for me to wash up at your place?" I ask, embarrassed, having not had the time to get myself together all that well before getting off the train.

"Of course!" He doesn't bat an eye. "You can wash your face or take a shower or whatever you need."

"Washing my face will be good enough, I'm sure." I look down as I say it because I'm sure I'm going to be embarrassed if I make eye contact.

This early there barely seems to be anyone out and about. Back home, the majority of the fishing boats will be out at work already. Even Papa is probably shoving off to sea. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the Capitol wouldn't be a city of early risers.

Back in Jack's (too spacious to be a real normal apartment) apartment, he takes my bag and directs me vaguely to the bathroom. I walk slowly, indulging my curiosity to peer down at the hall. There are three doors. Two are open; one is closed. One open door leads to the bathroom. The other allows me a peek into a small room set up with some bookshelves, a desk, and a sort of day bed. I assume this is some kind of office or guest room. Jack's bedroom is probably the one with the closed door.

The bathroom reminds me of Aulie's home, being similarly appointed with fancy faucets and a vase of little purple flowers on a shelf. I wash my face in the sink with some sweet-smelling soap and feel funny drying my face on one of his embroidery-edged towels. I notice little details of the room that have escaped me on past visits, perhaps turning Jack's invitation to stay over in some corner of mind. Considering what it's like to live here as opposed to just visiting.

Then it occurs to me I'm taking a very long time, so I hurry out to rejoin my host- now waiting casually for me in his living room. "You still sort of smell like chocolate," Jack chuckles when I come close, "Chocolate and soap!"

"You have a tub," I say stupidly. I don't know what possesses me to just blurt out these inevitably awkward things.

"Yes," Jack responds, all calm and matter of fact. He cocks his head. He's wondering why I mentioned it.

"I, I just don't see many tubs here in the Capitol. Well. Not that I've been many places in the Capitol where I could see them, but." I am digging myself deeper and deeper in this hole of awkward aren't I? "Well, there aren't any at the Training Center."

"And you prefer to take baths," Jack assumes. If he wants to laugh at me, he's managing to hold it back for now at least.

"Yes," I answer, roughly replicating his seconds-earlier neutrality.

I hold my nervous grin stiffly in place and Jack replies in kind, creating a momentary deadlock of…well, something. "Hey, so," he breaks through the impasse (he is usually the one to do so), "Come on up."

"Up?"

I'm a bit confused, but it turns out, living on the top of the building, he has sole access to the roof, and it's even sort of nice and decorated, with a bit of a fence and a lawn.

"It's okay to sit in the grass?" I ask, stopping at the edge of the lawn instead of immediately following after him.

"It's got to be more acceptable here than anywhere else in the Capitol," Jack shrugs, "This is my place; it's my grass."

I laugh at this like I laugh at so many things Jack says. He doesn't save up his jokes for me, but doles out his sense of humor out to whatever audience he's given, at parties, on television, in public appearances. That doesn't make him any less funny when he's with me. To some degree, all that goofing around is the true Jack Umber. Of course, some of it is also the mask he's put on to protect himself from a world that's treated him harshly from nearly every side and still expected him to carry on peaceably.

The fact that I am thinking all these complicated things about him could probably be considered proof that I am in love with Jack Umber.

He takes off his jacket and lays it down on the grass, gesturing with an enormously affected wave for me to come and sit on it. He settles down cross-legged and puts the basket between his left knee and the edge of the jacket. I walk across the grass to join him. It scrunches pleasantly under my sandals. In an average day in the Capitol, I walk over a wide variety of surfaces, but few of them are soft or give beneath my feet like this. Walking on grass is like being at home. I wonder if there's any place with lots of sand in District 1; if Jack even knows what that experience is like. I wish that I had some excuse to take him home.

Together, his jacket and the fresh grass make a nice cushion.

The morning sun reaches the point where the glinting off the crystal towers and reflective windows of some of the Capitol's tallest and flashiest buildings is unbearable if it hits you in the eye at just the right (or should I say wrong?) angle. It forces my eyes to stop wandering around the skyline and to keep them turned toward Jack.

"You planned this," I accuse him.

"Planned what?" he replies. He sounds sincere, but I already know that he's a good actor so even now I approach the subject carefully.

"If I don't look toward you, the sun is in my eyes."

"Well, there's an excuse to look at me as long as you want! ...But you know, by the same token, if I move my eyes even an inch off you the sun is blaring right around your head into them."

"That doesn't mean you didn't plan it." I roll my eyes.

"I'm too stupid to plan it," Jack counters. "But I don't think we'll have trouble if we look down at the food, so why not start our picnic breakfast?"

For some reason, looking just at his hands is more embarrassing than looking at his face. This must be love or I'm going crazy, and how could I make it sane out of the Games just to go to pieces a year and a half later while a kind and funny man treats me to a meal on his roof? ...Of course, compared to the life I live in 4, eating breakfast with any man but Papa, on his roof, no less, would probably fit my general description of crazy.

Jack picks the shell off a hard-boiled egg, but he does it slowly, in an inefficient way. He starts singing offhandedly. I can imagine he'd be doing it even if I weren't here, like he does it all the time by himself. He doesn't have some kind of beautiful voice or anything, but he's in key and, as in many things, he makes up what he lacks in skill, he makes up in good humor. It's rare that it's obvious that Jack isn't enjoying something. Even though he's told me how he really feels about the Games, he still smiles as he chats with Jeff Zimmer and Longinus Bronze about them year after year.

"...Just to pass the time away. Can't you hear the whistle blowing, rise up so early in the morn; Don't you hear the captain shouting..."

I can't understand all the words the way he mumbles them, but I can tell he's singing about train. ...I think. I peel an orange and just stare at him as he continues on singing to himself. With his eyes turned down and focused on his task, he doesn't notice that I'm watching him.

"You could change the words around, or something," he remarks suddenly around a mouthful of egg. He swallows and wipes a napkin across his mouth. I try to pretend that I haven't been staring at him this entire time and Jack pretends that he doesn't know I have. He clears his throat and sings a little more. "Been surviving the arena, struggling 'gainst the fray; Been surviving the arena just to live another day. Can't you hear the anthem playing, see the tributes' faces in the sky; Can't you guess what they were thinking: 'please don't let me die.'"

He's clever. "Have you been working on that for a while?"

"In the shower," he chuckles, "Please feel free to conjure up that mental image."

I can't reply fast enough to get out a good retort because my mouth is full of bread and honey.

"You sing me a song, Mags," he urges, "How 'bout it?"

"My singing isn't anything special," I try to dissuade him. I can carry a tune, but my voice isn't great. I sing on the boat sometimes back home, but I don't usually care for anyone other than Papa to hear me. "...And I'm not going to come up with anything as sharp as that either."

"Doesn't matter," he rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug, "I'd just like to hear it. A song from District Four."

I grasp for a song and settle up the first one that comes to mind, that isn't some children's song that would embarrass me horribly to sing in his presence. I take a deep breath. ...This is kind of embarrassing. "Farewell and adieu, to you, Spanish ladies. Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain; For we've received for to sail for old Angland, And perhaps we shall never more see you again."

I pause. It's one of those small moments that feels very long. Jack has watched intently the whole time. "Uh, there's more, but I don't know..."

"That's okay," he nods. "Huh. Wow, that's interesting."

"I don't know anything about Angland or Spain," I note before he asks. "They're just old places with a sea between them."

"What was that word though?"

Word? "Oh, 'adieu?' It means "goodbye," but in an old language they used to speak in some of the places that ended up in District Four."

"I was wondering. I was going to ask if you had your own special language in Four."

"Nah, just maybe a few words left over from old languages that have disappeared everywhere else."

"Thanks for singing for me. It was nice."

"Y-yeah," I stammer, "You're welcome." It's funny how at the same time I can be happy he's complimenting me and want him to stop. Jack Umber is a very confusing person.

I don't spend the entire day with Jack. I wander a bit of the Capitol myself, swallowed up by already enormous libraries with even huger wings that you need special permits to enter, parks shaded by trees of every color, and all the other towering and glittering facets and facilities the center of the city has to offer.

People smile at me on the street. I think they know who I am.

In an openair market, I buy some pretty fruit to take home to Papa. Who knows what sorts they all are, but I'm sure we'll figure something out.

I think about Jack. I try to think of more useful ways I can realistically prepare my young friends for the unfortunate possibilities of the arena and I borrow some books from a Capitol library in the service of stirring my mind in other directions. There are lots of books about the ancient civilizations of Greece and Rome.

I like stories better than non-fiction and straight information. I read The Odyssey and can't entirely divorce the images it raises in my mind from those conjured by the arena and the Capitol. Only one man comes home. …and it takes him a long time.

Spring warms the waters.

There is only date of note on my calendar before the beginning of the next Games- Kayta and Raisin's wedding. It will probably be the only time I ever see District 7 again unless-until I bring home a new victor for 4. I find I am sort of savoring the opportunity.

Because of the direction we are traveling, while I am picked up first, the same train will head north and collect Shy, Sunny, and Teejay as well before arriving in District 7. Nar admits that neither he, nor Cornelia Safflower, Victor Affairs' liaison to 6, are technically invited to the wedding- they are only along to chaperone us. Apparently Kayta tried to forbid his own liaison person, Catallus Braun, from attending, but was informed that the presence of certain Capitol personages was a requirement if he wanted to be allowed to have his marriage legally recognized. These included District 7's escort, several interested Gamemakers, and the president and his family. I'm kind of surprised the president wants to come- I don't know of any time postwar that he's visited any of the districts.

Cornelia seems nice. Not as smug as Nar can come off (I think that's what can be off-putting about him to me). She tells me a bunch of factoids about 6. It sounds like she visits the district frequently. And, interestingly, some of the visits are at Sunny's request. She calls for back-up if she gets too worried about Teejay.

In 5, Shy is happy to join us. She's already decided she's going to do my makeup for the occasion, "seeing as you don't look to have much experience with it on your own."

I'm not sure there's any way to turn her down.

Sunny and Teejay appear to be having a rather animated conversation with some transportation personnel on the platform and when Cornelia goes out to get them, Sunny just carried the conversation right on to include her. Teejay falls mostly quiet. "Hi Mags; Hi Shy," he greets us, and, gradually, Sunny's voice lowers as she makes some comments to Cornelia regarding someone in the Capitol ("I worry about her when you don't give me a report…").

When we all get settled in and on our way again, Shy chats about how she thinks we should've gotten a chance to meet up ahead of the wedding "just girls" and thrown Raisin something called a "hen party."

"What do chickens have to do with getting married?" Sunny wonders. "…Is this some kind of Five thing?"

"What? No!" Shy blusters, "Don't girls get together for any fun before a wedding where you come from?"

"Uh, not that I know about," Sunny blinks, "Of course, I haven't been a close friend to any brides."

"The women in the family…and some friends might get together to knot the bridal net and…talk…and stuff, but it's not exactly a party," I reply to Shy's inquiring stare. But, then again, what do I know? I haven't been at any of these gatherings as a guest (I have, however, been as a toddler while my mother attended, being sort of communally babysat by Mrs. Mirande and some of my mother's friends- they say she had lots of friends).

"Huh! And it always seemed to me like you know how to have a real party in Four," Shy observes.

"They save it for some other time," Sunny guesses.

"Fish parties…" Teejay contributes, his head drooping toward collapse onto the couch.

Nar and Cornelia prevail upon Shy not to draw on his face while he sleeps.

We're all filmed arriving in 7 as cheerful guests. There are quarters set up for us in the building where Capitol visitors stay when they come to 7 on business.

"The men are all here!" Shy yells back to the rest of our group, having rushed on ahead.

"'The men?'" Sunny shakes her head.

"No, Pal's not here," I counter when I come into the room and count Jack, Hector, Gerik, and Beto variously lounging around.

Gerik laughs, "Geez, Shy, don't forget about Pal! Even though even Beto has three inches and twenty pounds on him, he's still as much a man as any of the rest of us."

"…Are they late?" Beto looks at the clock.

"They're not really coming from further than Mags, right?" Jack considers the timetable, "Just a different direction."

"Pal and Silk, Luna, and Emmy," Beto lists off who should make up the last group of visiting victors.

"There's…potential for difficulty there," Sunny admits, sharing a small smile with the rest of our cohort.

"And you know it ain't coming out of District Eight," Hector chimes in. "Ya want some tea, Sunny? Anybody? Beto's making tea."

"Three-Style!" She obviously likes the sound of that.

"…not for everybody…" Beto mutters, but it's pretty much too little too late and he goes to put more water on.

It's a nice group. It feels pleasant to be here with most of our company without the pressure of the Games and the rising competition to bring back tributes pushing down on us. Beto's tea is green and bitter and everyone has some, although Teejay, Shy, and Jack all make faces while they drink it. I imagine this type of tea would go well with some of the food back home.

"It's so easy to pick out all the sweet-tooths," Gerik heckles Jack and Shy in particular (there's really no good humor in saying such things to Teejay).

"And then there's Mags," Hector throws back the rest of his cup, "Who hasn't met a food she doesn't like!"

Gerik leans down and touches my arm. "He says that because he's exactly the same way. Worse than Jack."

"Worse than Jack?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Unbelievable, I know. I have a hard time imagining how his mother managed to feed him before he won his Games. An extraordinary amount of his salary must go to buying big pieces of meat from Ten." The men from Two pinch and swat at each other like big kids.

The hour advances and gradually people drift off to sleep. Teejay goes to sleep on the couch, but Hector and Gerik feel sorry for him and decide to carry him off to bed. Eventually I am left with just the inner district men. Beto yawns and rises. "I'm done for the night."

"Sleep well," Gerik wishes after him.

"And how 'bout you?" Hector turns to me.

"I'm waiting up for Silk and Pal…" But I'm tired too.

"It's not going to be worth it," Hector states his thoughts, "You should turn in and see them in the morning. They're featherweights. They're probably sleeping on the train already."

I reluctantly concede his point. The one who'll be awake is Luna. I would be lying if I said that I were particularly looking forward to seeing Luna. "Okay, I'm going to bed too," I say, getting up off the floor where I've been sitting beside their feet.

"Good night," Jack says first.

"Don't worry," Gerik calls after me, a bit groggy around the edges, "We'll make sure and keep an eye on this one so that nothing untoward goes on during the night."

Hector laughs and laughs. I don't look back, leaving Jack's responding expression a mystery.

The building is abuzz from first thing in the morning. I'm eating breakfast and my hair is a mess when Kayta shows up. "Thank you all for coming to my wedding," he bows deeply.

"Such manners," Beto remarks, seeming to actually approve.

"Now, I've gotta be off again, because there are all kinds of last minutes things to look after- you know how it goes- but, really, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Yeah, Kayta!" Shy whoops. And slowly, from Jack to Pal to Sunny to Ferdinand along with Emmy, the clapping starts. All of us- all extending to include even Luna- applaud that Kayta has managed this much. Kayta Hiro did not die at sixteen- he cut his way through- and now he is twenty-six and still alive and strong and hopeful and able to love and be loved in return. He is as happy, I think, as any of us can hope for. He is happier, probably, than most of us will manage.

"Pinesteeth!" he wipes at the edge of his eye, "That's embarrassing, you people!" But he means something like 'thank you.' He accepts our feelings. He hurries out of the building and the business of breakfast and dressing ourselves all up for the occasion resumes.

There's a lot of joking around as a handful of stylists employed by Victor Affairs for the event (none of them ones I know, though one has brought along her son, Mark, a pretty boy of about eight or nine who likes to mix the colored makeups) set up two different styling rooms, divided by sex, to put the finishing touches on us, but, while Pal keeps coming in to fuss over Silk without any of us girls minding, the moment Hector looks in- seeing nothing particularly scandalous in the first place- everyone yells him out and Shy throws the first thing that comes to hand, which is a powderpuff.

It's a wonderful time, really. I look around at these people and can't stop smiling to think how happy I am to be alive and here and with them. Silk is letting the little boy paint her eyelids and Emmy is being scolded for chewing on her fingernails and Luna is reading a book while a silver-toothed woman puts the final touches on her hair. Some of them are strange, but I am strange with them, so what does it matter?

"Lemme fix that," Shy noses her way in and gets her hands all over me as she dabs and rubs a little bit of makeup on me to her liking.

A few at at time, everyone goes out and gets set up the way they want us. The chairs out on the grass are all wooden and hand carved and similar, but not of a matching set. I ask about it and learn that it's a traditional style. A man with a surname of a type of wood (a common enough sort of surname in 7) with a little sprig of berries and evergreen pinned to his jacket, helping set things up with his daughter (young, but tall), explains that they're traditional 7 chairs- that sort of carving, but, of course, even Kayta doesn't own so many. People who had them were asked to loan them out for the occasion, to make everything look nice for the cameras. Raisin has promised to pay everyone back, one at a time, in meat dumplings and pecan pies. Mr. Teak seems quite pleased with this arrangement.

I watch as the last touches are set up all around. Cameramen signal to each other from across the green that they're ready to go. Sunny takes the seat beside me.

I pick the president out of the crowd, beside his daughter, then intently focus on not looking at them (avoiding unnecessary eye contact with the president is something of a priority for me).

Someone plays a few introductory notes on a trumpet. The bride and groom process out from opposite sides and meet up front and center.

Raisin's wedding dress is of a traditional District 7 style, though it was actually made in the Capitol in one of many concessions to the audience Kayta is attempting to woo. The dress is red and white, of a shiny fabric and it looks like there are details in it that would reveal themselves as patterns and pictures if I got a chance to examine them up close. With it, Raisin wears white slippers and a headdress of folded white cloth, surrounded by a ring of green spring leaves, stitched loosely together by a bit of gold thread.

Kayta wears a suit of black and red with faint gold pinstripes on the vest. There are a few leaves sewn into his longish, brushed back hair.

Mayor Bacon weds them in a concise ceremony. They say vows that reference the land and the trees and the way that trees show their age in accumulated rings. They exchange amber rings of their own and proceed over to the front of Kayta's house, the only lively dwelling among the group of prebuilt shells, where, together, they plant a tree.

Sunny bursts into hysterical tears. I hold out my arms and let her cling to me, leaning her head down and hiding her face against my shoulder. I don't know what about this in particular makes her so sad, but I want to comfort her whatever the cause. "Oh, Sunny, pull yourself together," she chides herself.

I pat her back and feel her tears soak into my dress.

There is music on some crazy District 7 assortment of instruments- a little hand drum, a mandolin, a trumpet, a tuba, and a xylophone. The bride and groom dance.

Sunny stems the tide of her tears. "Ah, I wonder what it's like to be in love," she sighs. "That's kind of beautiful."

The band strikes up a new tune and Kayta picks out Silk as a partner to try and encourage the rest of us to dance. Raisin rescues Pal from his sudden loneliness. Mayor Bacon, his granddaughters, Raisin's mother, and many of the other various guests from 7 join in the dancing.

Shy and Hector are trying their best at it. Ferdinand spins Emmy around in steps that fit the rhythm but aren't the moves that any locals are following. Jack offers a hand to Luna, but she turns away and finds a place to sit down beside Beto, who is watching intently and tapping his foot.

"A couple of more festive sorts over here," I invite Jack.

"Do me the honor then?" Gerik steps up.

"Of course," I brighten at the offer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack shrug and move on to nonchalantly offer himself to Sunny instead.

"He forgets that other people enjoy your company," Gerik remarks. There's a stiffness to his stride and he squints over to see what the more knowledgable dancers are doing so as to put himself to copying it.

"I like you too, Gerik. Don't let me forget about you," I say, "Don't even give me a chance."

"We're hopping a ride on Jack's team promotion via merchandise spirit this year. Hector and I got some shirts made up. Kids back home- well, there was a contest to come up with the design."

"That sounds fun."

The president doesn't dance (I didn't expect him too), not even when music is played in more of the Capitol style. The president's daughter does dance though, with Kayta, with one of the Gamemakers, with Jack.

Her name is Star. She is twenty-five. It's been a long time since I even momentarily thought of her as anyone but "the president's daughter." I see her in person at this events and I see her more on television, but I don't know what her life is really like. I just know that she likes Jack. …And I don't feel jealous to watch them dance. I just wonder. How much does Star like Jack? How well does she know him? What does she think about all the times and places now we show up together?

The reception following mostly acquiesces to be a paired down version of Capitol tastes. The president makes a toast to the bride and groom, which leaves both Kayta and Raisin smiling awkwardly. The president has seated himself (presumably) at the head table between Raisin and Silk. I wonder what Raisin's mother has to speak about with Pal and Star, who flank her. At least Pal is very easy to talk to, I suppose.

I'm stuck between Beto and Sunny. Although I think Beto has been enjoying the wedding more than he does most events, that doesn't mean he has any more interest in talking now than he usually does.

But Sunny is in good spirits in spite of her earlier tears and with Teejay on her other side (between Sunny and Cornelia), I am exposed to just another example of her innate sweetness as she sees to it that Teejay eats, doesn't make a total mess, and maybe enjoys himself a bit? He seemed chipper the other day when we picked him up.

We don't get to stay over another night- I think it's not considered wise to keep all of us victors together any longer than necessary outside the Capitol and its various constraints- so as the party fades down to just locals, we're all led off a pair or two at a time. Raisin Hiro continues to be brilliantly kind and makes sure to thank everyone for coming before we're out of the Victors' Green.

We're headed home in the same combinations that we came, just running backwards this time, down south to Four in the case of my group. What small amount of things we dragged along have been repacked in the meantime by various Avoxes and handlers.

Jack manages to catch my eye before he's off on his own way, slowing down so that Hector, Gerik, and Beto continue on ahead of him. When Hector notices, he turns around, puts two fingers in his mouth, and makes an obnoxious whistle at us. He even winks. Gerik doesn't turn or probably so much as bat an eye. Beto looks like he'd like to slap all three of us- Jack, Hector, and me. "Hey," Jack says quietly, keeping his words between us, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes- I'm so happy for Kayta and Raisin and it was nice to be with everyone."

"Oh, good. I'm glad."

"The high-and-mighties didn't take away any from your experience, I hope," I refer to the president and his daughter's frequent interaction with him.

"Nah, I'm used to that. I'm used to them."

"…Do you like weddings?" I ask on a whim.

"Absolutely," he grins one last time before he turns away.

I come home from the wedding with my thoughts attuned more than not to happy things.

When the club meets up, everyone talks about the wedding. "Aaah, I wanna get married someday!" Maria sighs.

"To who?" Estelle inquires.

"I don't know yet!" She laughs, knowing how silly it sounds and bends over to touch her toes, the best stretcher of us all as we prepare to take a jog around the island.

"You're pretty, Maria," Rodrigo replies, "And you're good with numbers…"

"And you can do the splits!" Estelle adds, "I don't know anyone as flexible as you." (Jerrick blushes)

We get up and running, Rodrigo and Che out ahead in front racing one another and Faline struggling along behind, the slowest, with everyone else pacing themselves variously in-between. Zeno, several steps ahead of me, takes note of Faline's speed and begins to fall back to match her pace. When Reza realizes what Zeno is doing, he joins in. The three of them start talking about school as they jog.

I don't have it in my heart to tell them to pay more attention to their running.

The boys are one thing. If Faline is called again, that might be it for me- all that I can take. Faline is here and alive and happy and that's proof that I can do something that has meaning. That even if I can only manage it at the risk of my own life, I can save someone. …that if I did it once, there's a chance that I can do it again (by some combination of luck and skill and sacrificing myself in some other way like Pal did?).

As our lap of the island (more or less- the beach doesn't go around the entire perimeter and higher up there are fences around the yards set aside for each empty house held for some future victor that we have to avoid) draws to a close, Zeno starts to pull ahead again. …I find myself slowing down a bit to watch him. Boy, that kid can run.

He runs on, skinny legs pumping, until he's caught Che and is barely a step behind Rodrigo.

"Run, Zeno, run!" Estelle cheers for him.

"What does Padre feed him?" 'Lito asks himself incredulously between heavy breaths.

Peterzeno takes a flying leap and grabs my District 2-color bandanna off the driftwood stick I tied it to to mark the beginning of our course. "Ha ha ha ha!" he laughs triumphantly and flops down onto the sand.

Che kicks angrily at the sand, but at least he bothers to do it turned away from Zeno so it doesn't blow into his face.

Rodrigo sits down heavily. One by one, the rest of us join him- 'Lito, Jerrick, Estelle, me, Maria, Reza, and Faline.

"Si," Zeno heaves a sigh, "Yes. I am getting faster."

"You're also getting tricksier," Che pokes him with his toe.

Zeno doesn't disagree. He smiles and smiles. "That too."

He's too little, I think to myself. He's much too little. He better not even think about being a volunteer. …not this yet. But Peterzeno, who is scrawny and fast and full of tricks, will he grow up tall and strong? Will he be the right one to volunteer someday?

I don't know.

Spring transforms into the earliest flush of summer.

With the summer comes the reaping.

There are terrors both public and private in Panem without end for all of us. I don't dress up for the ceremony this year. I mean, I don't dress as casually as I would for a day on the beach, but there's no special outfit. I'm not sure what the point would be. Maybe if I looked really fantastically wonderful or strange it would attract attention that could be applied to sponsorships, but I don't see how I could manage that. Not on my own at least. I just don't have that kind of eye.

In the crowd of girls, Faline shows me an enormous, forced grin and points at it. Okay, okay, I should smile for the cameras. She's right, though how she can manage that when I cannot is a thing of wonder.

I rise for my cue (I will stand for my name on this stage or one that replaces it for the rest of my life), wave (maybe I won't always wave), and sit back down.

I tune out Apple as she says something about 4 taking back their crown and whatever Mayor Current says after that. The mayor and I can't so much as glance at one another most of the time. Shaya's shadow lies between us. Sooner or later, will there be an empty gap like that separating me from every person in the district? Because it might not be a child. It might be a friend or a sibling or a lover.

Papa and 'Lito are standing together far toward the edge of things. They get along well, I think.

Apple picks the girl's name and nearly trips on her tongue saying it: "Anemone Monterey."

"I volunteer!" protests a girl whose voice I recognize right from the first. It's Maria Rasif, from my 'club.' She pushes forward past Anemone, a tanned, trembling girl I don't know, maybe about fourteen or fifteen, and takes the stage. She is wearing a faded dress that used to be red and with it the reddest lipstick I have ever seen in my home district. There was always the possibility that she might have feared or faltered, changed her mind, but that lipstick is for the cameras. Maria came to the reaping with this outcome in mind.

"You're, um, Marie?" Apple tries to show off by remembering.

"Maria Rasif," she breathes, feeling the pressure of how real it is now. The dream begins now. A volunteer. A dream that will only break my heart (but if only, if only-).

Apple calls the boy. And of all the possible choices, it is Mayor Current's son. Shaya's brother. What are the odds? Apple's face looks distinctly greener than the makeup should be making it. But Maria's call of "I volunteer," has a partner. "I also volunteer!" Jerrick Roy, another from the club, shouts and takes the stage.

Apple doesn't try to guess or remember his name. "Maria Rasif and Jerrick Roy!" she applauds them as they shake hands. They look excited, even if they're also afraid. I can see the sweat run down the side of Jerrick's face.

I don't have just one volunteer. I have two volunteers. Who know one another. Who will work together. Who will listen to me. Two volunteers, whose presence up here commands real respect and admiration from the crowd. Apple seems buoyed by the cheers that meet them as they make their last gestures to the assembled people before being swept from the stage.

"If I die," Jerrick says to me as we sit in the back of the car taking us to the train station, "At least it's going to be as a hero, right?"

"In the Capitol, they'll make me up very pretty, right?" Maria confirms and inquires, "If I die, will you make sure to get my abuela a picture of me for her shrine where I look very pretty?"

"Yes," I tell both of them, "Yes."

Apple gapes that they're both so good, isn't it a bit soon to think that they'll die?

"I never said I thought Jerrick and I would both die," Maria laughs at her, "You jump to the strangest conclusions, Ms. Smitt!"

To me it seems as if they've both misunderstood the other. My tributes (students, friends) decided to show me their tokens. Jerrick's is a homemade fishing lure of feather and twine. Maria's is a glass bead, with a District 2 style pattern, on a string around her neck. I daydream of either of them standing, a survivor, beside me. So, what do I do for them? What do I sell? …I have already gone and given them my heart.

I'm a bit disappointed to see that Aulie hasn't been allowed to join us as early on this time. "Officially, he's just your approved speller," Apple shrugs, "They don't see what you could want with him now."

Even Maria and Jerrick seem disappointed about it. Apparently, they expect Aulie as part of the packaged deal. Jerrick recounts a bit about how much Salvador seemed to adore him. Apple wilts a little at recalling Salvador. And, yes, Apple, I think to myself, these ones will be like Salvador again to some extent. They'll be good and try hard and when they're gone you'll miss them.

"Any general Games thoughts?" I ask them.

"I'd like to do what your partner did, actually, if I can," Jerrick states. "I'd like to use the arena- you know, the terrain, mutts or whatever- to do some of the killing for me. I want as few nightmares of my hands touching some bloody body as I can."

"It depends on the arena though," Maria muses, "Kind of a lot. I mean, the shark was a boon for that. Last year, not so much."

"I have no interest in setting the arena on fire," he scrounges up a smile from his rapidly depleting supply.

"We'll see what we get." Maria holds out her hand and Jerrick takes it.

"Do you want to watch the other reapings?" I inquire next. As volunteers, I can expect that they will take in everything up until the arena itself with a certain level of calm. They've watched the Games. They made the decision to come, either separately or together, one way or another. And I know them enough. They can handle the predictable part.

"Yeah," Jerrick agrees, "I'd like to see how the other victors act when their tributes get picked."

"Do you think that part's especially important?" I'm curious.

"Well, last year," Jerrick shrugs, "Silk won, but I don't think there was anything about the way Silk acted or looked that would make you think it was going to be her. But Pal was all together and stuff."

It's not like Pal really could know how it was going to go- but I'm sure he knew what he meant to do in general from the start, so this is an interesting point to raise. "I'll have to watch it again and pay attention for that."

So we watch and I listen to what Maria and Jerrick say as they watch the others. There are double volunteers in Two, which they like, because of the similarity to them, but they don't think of much to say about how cool Gerik and even Hector play the situation. They're not impressed with Pal, who is jittery this time, or Luna, who continues to play a convincing 'I could care less' as tributes unrelated to her are called, but Beto glints with intensity and Kayta brushes against the edges of a look that could be considered smug when the boy from his district takes the stage. "Do you think he'll get a lot of sponsors for his tributes because he asked for that?" Maria wonders.

"I'm not sure," I admit, "I mean, his tributes seem decent, so maybe? I don't know how many promises he wrung out of people around the time of the wedding…"

"But…you'll get us lots of sponsors too, right?" Jerrick hopes, "People like you, Mags and you're pretty visible and all…"

"I'm going to try my best, and I'm sure I'll get some for you, but I can't say I've got the best hang of how to find sponsors yet."

Maria folds her arms and looks up at the ceiling, sorting through her thoughts. "Will Jack help you?"

"I suppose he would if I asked." With tips, that is. I won't, and probably shouldn't, ask him for help actually getting sponsors. I'm not going to mention to either of them that he helped out a little personally with money for Salvador. I don't know if he'll repeat the gesture, even if it's still considered a lawful action regarding sponsorships.

"There should some kind of 'Go District Four!' t-shirt," Jerrick says.

It's not a bad idea. I'm included in the numbers of people who liked Jack's silly t-shirt last year after all. "I'll ask Jack about who made his shirt."

"And when you have it, make him wear it," Maria is tense, but she smiles anyway. I'm sure her personal style and beauty will attract attention in the Capitol. "It can be a trade off so it's fair. You wear his and he wears yours."

"Except Jack is on TV more," Jerrick remarks.

"But Mags is his girlfriend," Maria insists, "And men like to do the bigger favor."

Jerrick isn't so sure about this and he admits he's never really had a girlfriend, but isn't beat quite that easily because Maria hasn't had a boyfriend either. Maria looks to Apple for backup. I don't think she wants to take sides between these two (she's probably glad that they get along this much more than Shaya and Salvador did). "…not every boyfriend," Apple answers, "But more of them than not, I think."

"And Jack loves to make big, dramatic gestures," Maria concludes.

We speed to the Capitol where I will push myself to compete for extra coverage of my tributes from the start, making sure that camera attention falls on them the moment Aulie meets us.

Maria's bold introduction helps. "Aulie, I'm Maria and this is Jerrick!"

"I have to admit I don't always remember all the details of what I see dear Mags getting up to back home, but I am absolutely sure I have seen both of you before," he addresses them, hands on hips.

"You're our grand-coach, I think," Jerrick holds out his hand and they start shaking hands all around (Jerrick even gets Apple and Aulie to shake hands- "In the interests of team spirit").

Onlookers are responding to this sight in good humor and more eyes and ears stick to us even as Shy and her group arrive and one would assume become the center of attention for at least a few moments. I want this attention for my tributes, but I also don't want Shy to become particularly aware of it. I'd prefer to stay her friend. I hurry everyone along and Apple jokes at "how responsible" I am.

I accompany the team to our quarters in the Training Center where a message is waiting for me from Jack, a hand-written note saying: "Color commentary? Love to have you back. Be at the studio by 1 or call me." I don't see any reason to refuse. I show the note to Apple and arrange for transportation. I leave Aulie and Maria in a rousing "game" of "fashion show"- involving Maria cheerfully trying on every piece of clothing provided in her quarters in various combinations while Aulie offers his suggests and quizzes her about her responses to various first-aid and survival scenarios. Jerrick does some routine stretches and exercises. Apple promises to look after everyone in my absence.

The man at the main desk in the lobby directs me up to the same area I waited, was made up, and worked in last year to this same purpose. "Jack will be pleased," he says.

A stagehand tells me that Kayta called and asked to be part of this year's commentary, but Jack put him on hold, still preferring to have me. Another studio employee admits that he's surprised that Silk wasn't picked for the job, having assumed that Jack would repeat last year along the theme of seating in with the previous year's victor (one of the men in charge of the lighting, on the other hand, avers that Jack did try to pull in Silk, but she declined in favor of sticking with her tribute).

It isn't really all that much time for anything to be found, but I get the idea to ask if there's any easy attained footage from my Tour that can be aired, "Since I know both of my tributes this year appear in it." The request gets batted around here and there with one of the women from the editing room promising to see what she can do.

I'm hustled off into hair and make up before I get a chance to speak with Jack, who catch sight of, briefly, chatting animatedly with a familiar-seeming person I think may direct these programs.

The hair stylist with the plum-colored locks still has her little dog that shares my name, though not with her today. She shows me a picture on her digital device. "She had puppies," the woman informs me cheerfully, "Six and all healthy!"

Because this is the dog called "Mags" I feel rather awkward, where I think I would otherwise find this a pleasant subject for small talk. "…are you…going to keep them all?" I try.

"One, I think. Two dogs is about enough for me. And I have a friend who wants the little white one. I suppose I'll just have to start asking around the studio and such after who might want the others."

"Hmm…"

"Do you think Jack might be interested?"

Now that gets a jolt of surprise out of me. "I-I don't know," I answer honestly, shaking my head.

She tells me the names of all six puppies. All names in circulation in District 4. Carlos, Diana, Nicholas, Annabelle, Pacifico, and Faline. Faline is the little white one. She's the smallest and possibly the cutest.

The makeup man is easier to deal with, though has something of a related manner on his mind because he's recently adopted a new baby and shows me pictures of her along with his older daughter, who I would guess to be about three years old herself.

When I bring this up to Jack (it is far too embarrassing to mention the hair stylist's dog), he laughs and tells me he doesn't know how many people have privately asked him for his opinion about how soon it will be before Kayta and Raisin have a child because Kayta won't answer anything but, "It's none of your business," in a nice manner either publicly or privately.

"They think that maybe he'd tell me, I suppose," Jack shakes his head, "I don't know if I'd be Kayta's first choice for that kind of talk though. Honestly, I don't even know if they want kids."

"There are a lot of reasons to hesitate," I share my opinion, "But I do imagine Raisin likes kids. I guess I can see it going either way. …But they didn't rush things this far. They're not going to rush into that."

"Yeah, they're smart people."

"…Jack, I wanted to know about your First Hunger Games t-shirt," I don't forget to pursue this important line of inquiry, "Who made it for you and all-"

In regard to these questions, Jack tells me what he did, but goes on to ask what I'd like them to look like…which I haven't quite figured out at this point, but I make some remarks about colors and scribble a tiny wave design on a studio notepad for him (my drawing skills have not improved since the last time I doodled in front of anyone). "I'll see what I can do for you," he promises.

"I'll take what you told me to Apple or Erinne," I insist, "You don't have time for that right now."

He seems about to protest, but we don't have time to get through this whole discussion before the scheduled time for our comments to be recorded. Jack assures me he'll finish filling me in on the details afterward.

…But it turns out he also isn't quite ready to put the topic on the shelf yet. "Mags has been asking me about my special t-shirt from last year," he addresses the cameras. "Maybe you remember it?" He pulls off a move more or less like I imagined last year, as he removes the innocuous blue shirt that had been visible to the naked eye to reveal his same green 'First Annual Hunger Games' t-shirt underneath. "If you missed out on one last year, there will be plenty more opportunities for you to pick up one of these this time around- or another piece of team-boosting memorabilia to support District One! -Or whatever district you prefer."

"I ask him some questions and he tries to make a sale," I wryly level my own charge to the viewers.

"She's just sad not to have the same pitch to make to you, dear viewers," Jack puts his arm around my shoulders. "…However, booster gear for 'the Mighty D-4' should be available soon enough, seeing as Mags is hard at work tapping the right people to concoct it. As a matter of fact," his free hand moves about beneath the table, reaching for something, "It might look something like this!" In one smooth motion, he pulls out a blue and yellow cap, and puts it down on my head.

It settles more or less between my buns and I raise a hand to adjust its position, though I think it would be better to leave it on and let the cameras take it in than remove it to examine the design. I will restrain my curiosity. I'll get to see it soon enough.

This time I don't need much prompting to talk about the tributes and the reapings with Jack. I am ready to say anything I can think of to say about Maria and Jerrick to bring good attention their way. My inquiries about prior footage pay off this time as Victory Tour clips are produced that show the two of them hanging about with me and the others. Jack jokes that I've taught them everything I know about weaving, and also, possibly, many things about the various uses of Crispco cracker tins, joke-telling, and "how to be much kinder and more cheerful than any situation calls for."

In reply, I ask Jack what he could teach his tributes.

"How to stay down to earth in the face of excessively undeserved fame," he deadpans.

The cap he had made for me turns out to be about as flashy as I should have expected. The majority of it is yellow, but the brim is a light blue, building back into a darker blue to form a wave design that splashes up the front of the cap, complete with a white edge and speckles to indicate sea spray. On top of the wave, in big black characters the cap announces what it is it's advertising: D4.

Jack looks pleased with himself as he watches me look it over. "…Thank you," I say, not exactly sure how to handle his going above and beyond. …for a fellow competitor of sorts, no less. I'm impressed at how much the cap has generally in common with my t-shirt idea. …Maybe Jack and I just have similar tastes.

I put the cap back on. "Thank you very much."

No matter how much time I spend with him, I still find much about Jack to be incredibly perplexing. I mean, I don't expect him or any of my other fellow mentors to engage in any activity that might sabotage me, but I also don't expect such active help in boosting my tributes and their chances. …yet I don't think I can ask him about it outright- not here in the television studio, of course, but not back at his place either- and expect an honest answer.

"Lots to do then, I suppose," he follows up his 'you're welcomes.' "I've got a couple of tributes to cheer on to giving their best. Miss Sincerity's a bit keyed up with nerves."

"Yes, I thought she seemed…tenser than average," I agree. I never want to say anything bad about the tributes for the broadcast- that's neither my job nor my nature- but it's true that girl didn't put on the 'smiling even if reluctant' performance that most of 1's tributes have managed the past several years. "…And I have mine to see to. And the shirts to work things out with. …and the caps?"

"I left the box of caps over at Victor Affairs. I've sent the paperwork about them on to your escort already. So… don't you work yourself into the ground either," Jack replies. He touches my arm. I move away, despite it being an innocuous enough gesture. I have to be strong now and focused. It's too much kindness that would break me. The cap is more than enough.

I pick at the hem of my shirt. "…I'll be seeing you around."

"If it matters to your tributes, I say 'hi,'" he offers.

The man at the main desk compliments my new cap on my way out.

Even without a boost from Jack, Kayta drums up his own soapbox. When I rejoin my tributes, I find they're watching him on television. He's talking up his tributes and signing pictures for fans and thanking all the "wonderfully generous" people who have already started sending in sponsorship money.

"The coverage keeps cutting all over the place," Jerrick informs me, "He's not the only one fighting for it."

I don't duck out of watching the reaping recap that includes my own comments this year. I still don't feel completely at ease watching and hearing myself on television in that manner, but Maria and Jerrick both seem extremely happy with what I say and show about them. The whole group is even more enthused over the cap when they see me wearing it on the show. Both Jerrick and Maria try it on and Apple uses her comm device to take their picture.

Aulie promises that he'll be the first to buy one and, reviewing the sort of invoice Jack sent over, promptly declares that the nineteen left in the shipment (minus the one he gave me) are too few. "Mags, you and Four are far more popular than that. All he's doing is whetting the public's appetite."

"That might be the point, Aulie," I point out. "…And, anyway, I should be paying Jack back for these ones first off! It's not his duty to support my district."

"It's a bit difficult having that sort of conflict of interests with your boyfriend, isn't it," Apple gives a little frown along with her rhetorical question. Despite her concerns about mussing her elaborately coiffed green hair, she gives in to Maria's requests that she too try on the hat and take a picture.

Aulie rings the sponsorship office in front of all us in the interests of making a pledge in return for a cap of his own. Of course, by this point, some zealous fans and/or swift buyers have already queued up for the opportunity to have one, so not only is he first, but, according to the person on the other end of the line, Jack- who could've just taken one to begin with- had left the box along with his own order from the beginning. Aulie puts his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone as he turns back to level a casual glare at us, "And he wants it autographed. He told them to let everyone know about that part. And how much more autographing would cost."

"Oh." I have to think about how to respond. "Aulie," I offer, "I'll autograph yours for free."

I think Apple laughs the hardest of all. This year each of us is in good company.

My volunteers' nerves don't show until it seems about the right time for them to be getting to sleep. Neither is too keen on going off on their own. I defuse some tension by telling them I won't tell anyone if they decide they want to share one bedroom. "Oh my gosh, Mags!" Maria rattles back at me, "I wouldn't be here with him if I wanted to get together with Jerrick!"

As the female tribute was called first again this year, this sort of indicates that they did discuss their volunteering with each other beforehand.

"Yeah," Jerrick agrees, "It's only logical not to doom your relationship that completely. You've gotta go with someone who's just a friend and help 'em out and then whichever one comes back all rich and noble and stuff has to use their new advantages to net someone great and have the happiest life they can and all."

"Oh, so that's how you're doing these things in Four now?" Aulie inquires.

"Somethin' like that," Jerrick concludes.

They're wound down enough then to handle themselves. Aulie, impatient about shipment times, goes down to Victor Affairs' office and brings back his new hat. It feels awkward writing on a hat. I want to write small, but he encourages me to cover up as much of the yellow area as I feel like- that it's better if it shows.

"To Aulie," I inscribe the side of the cap, "The best coach I could ask for. Love, Mags."

"You look like an idiot," Apple declares when he puts it on sideways, "But the right kind of idiot anyway."

The costumes for my tributes this year share a certain feature with last year's in flowiness, though the colors have shifted to shimmering whites and golds and red. Both Maria and Jerrick wear little crowns of what look like glass bubbles rising up from their heads. "Koi, I'm going to guess?"

"Koi are related to goldfish, right?" Spring replies, "Because it's something like that."

"Close enough then," I agree.

I mean to only wish Maria and Jerrick the best here- to avoid unnecessary chatter because that's when I'm most likely to say something stupid and bring them down or distract them from the important things, but I still manage to trip all over my tongue. …I suppose that's what good about our already knowing each other decently though. This doesn't seem to put either of them off their game. Maria even laughs and asks me if I like their makeup (it's equally extravagant and bright on both of them, but Maria likes it, while Jerrick is kind of embarrassed).

"I'll be watching you, so be good!" I conclude.

"I'm worried about scaring the horse if I'm bad," Jerrick tries to laugh like Maria, but can't quite manage it. "I'll make sure Maria doesn't do anything bad either."

"Oh, like what?" she's challenging this assertion as I walk away.

"Sit with me, sit with me!" Hector shouts out as soon as I reach our sort of bleacher seating.

Shy kicks his shoulder from the row behind him, "You jerk!"

"I hope you didn't say that just to beat Shy to the punch." I feel cautious when it comes to anything I'm concerned might start up some sort of ill will between my fellow victors.

"Nah, I want to sit with you. And still no Jack down here, but they've gotta add Silk up above, so it's going to get crowded."

"…If your tributes want an alliance, I think our girl will go for it." Gerik leans over and whispers to me.

Hector doesn't think 2's boy will be so open. I have a feeling that between these two opposing forces, a cross-district alliance isn't going to work. …Not this year. But Hector, Gerik, and I are all, more or less, trying to play the same game. It's not impossible to imagine that someday our personal feelings and those of our tributes will align. At the very least, I know Hector and Gerik will always be so kind as to hear me out.

Hector and Gerik aren't like Shy with her comments. They watch the parade and speech in polite silence. The only remark I really take in from any of my colleagues during the event is when Silk complains to Pal that some member of the style team has altered the costumes in a way that apparently he'd told her he wouldn't.

From what I can see, Maria and Jerrick hold up nicely.

But they're tired, so I give them extra dessert and send them off to bed early.

I run into Jack when I Apple and I are sending them off the following morning. I hear him saying goodbye to his tributes- Sincerity and Charlie. "'Sincerity'," Apple repeats once the girl is out of earshot.

"Trendy kind of name, I know," Jack replies, "There's a niche audience for that."

"No," Apple hesitates, "I wouldn't say I don't like it. A little strange, but still pretty."

"So, I take it this is a free moment for you?" Jack looks down at me.

"What do you need?" I ask calmly.

This is just the cue he need to reach back and whip a cap out of his back pocket- a twin to the cap that I'm wearing again today. "Sign my cap?"

Apple laughs. "You make it seem like she's a movie star." Then a funny look crosses her face- "But I suppose she's better than a movie star to you."

I clutch Jack's cap in my hands and there's no way I can look up at Apple now. I'm not looking at Jack's face either, but his tone sounds normal as he replies. Yes, he would take this in stride. Of course. He's Jack. "Now I've got it!" I imagine him patting Apple's arm or shoulder, assuming he thinks she'll let him. "See, Aulus knows training and Mags knows how to make a good show, so I figured you brought something different to this team. You understand love and feelings. It's a whole team of romantics. That's really sweet."

She makes a funny sort of laughing noise I'm not sure I've ever heard her make before. Her reservations about Jack have been, at least momentarily, ripped in two. "Ah, my, thank you." She's flattered.

"And you've got the fashion end of things pinned down too."

"Mags, I should leave you two," Apple declares sweetly when I manage to peek up and momentarily meet her gaze, "You're both in the midst of such a busy time and here you are with a free moment for talking and I'm taking it all up."

"S-sure," I stutter as she swirls around, layers of skirt flowing out around her like she's a jellyfish drifting along, and takes off, heels clicking on the floor.

Jack has his arms crossed and is looking pleased. "Well, you really pulled that off," I address him.

"All I needed was an opportunity to finally express my true feelings to her in a context in which I was sure she would actually stop and listen. She's a reasonable enough lady."

"…what sort of thing should I write on your hat?"

"Whatever you think seems right," he does nothing to narrow the matter down for me, simply passing me a fancy pen.

"To Jack," I write, "-Mags." And, putting aside all reservations about my virtual inability to draw, I scribble a little fish beside that and circle it with a heart. I put the cap back onto the pen and hand both items back, embarrassed.

"Aww, that's so cute," Jack examines my doodling, "Thank you." He puts the cap on, but turns it around backwards, "I've got some sponsors to meet with, so it's probably best not to be declaring my love of another district far and wide." …And yet he's not taking it off? There's an element of his typical sort of calculation to that- that his relationship with me adds another layer of interest to him, something new for all the people who have known and watched him for years, and, by association, to his tributes.

But I don't remark on it. Jack is the one engineering most of it, but the benefits go both ways. "…You're welcome. Best of luck."

Nar drops by with about ten more of the caps for me to sign to various interested parties. To Actegarde, to Alcestra, to Chipel, to Gaelen, to Marcus Luminous, to Kitty, to Rajiv, to Aramis. Although Nar grumbles that it would've raised more money to auction the caps, I feel better that they sold out based on speed and not due to exorbitant prices. It's easier to convince myself that I'm signing these off to fans, not people who are going to try and sell these back to fans at cut-throat rates (then again, presumably anyone who wants the cap signed to a particular name is either a fan themselves or knows a certain fan they plan on giving them too).

Apple goes out with some other escorts she gets along with to discuss sponsorship gathering strategies- people she trusts "not to keep any too marvelous secret from me." Aulie laughs at this and makes some casual phone calls to a group that consists largely, I think, of people he knows personally, but also the Crispco Crackers publicity representative.

There's a little bit of work to go around for everyone. Including- of course- most importantly- above all- Maria and Jerrick. But I can honestly say I feel all right about my tributes when I go to sneak what peeks I can at the training. Jerrick doesn't look bad at all as he follows instructions from one of the Center staffers on how to handle a staff in a fight. There are actually young tributes regarding Maria with a bit of trepidation as she pulls her chin up over a metal pole.

Maria and the girl from 2 horse around a least a little bit each day, although both Maria and Jerrick seem to take the time to interact with a large swath of the field. On the final day of ordinary training, the girl from 2 eats with them.

Gerik calls me down to the lobby to meet him in the evening. No official alliance is on. "I'm disappointed," he admits, "But the boy wouldn't have it and they're still the sort of kids where district loyalty comes first."

"It's okay. It was a nice thought. …I imagine they won't be unnecessarily aggressive toward each other at least."

"I wouldn't be one to encourage it. I'll leave the messy, the cruel, and the unusual to the Gamemakers, thank you very much," he sniffs.

Each day, from what they say and what I see, Jerrick and Maria stick things out. I think they do really well. I hope they understand how proud of I am of them. I feel that I have tributes here who are inspiring me to also do my best. Not to say there aren't any concerns on their part, but, as far as I can tell, they keep their apprehensions- which are only natural- between the members of our team.

"If I die, it means I did a really stupid thing, huh?" Maria muses when it's just the two of us.

"I want you to come home," I tell her, "I want you to meet someone great and get married like you said you wanted. But no matter what anyone else thinks, I want you to know that I'll never think it was a stupid thing to do, Maria. It was a brave and incredibly kind choice to make."

"I wanted to be like you," Maria sniffs, "So it is kind…? I wanted to be that kind."

"It's amazingly kind. And you're way braver than I am- I could tell from the way you came made up for the reaping that you'd thought it out beforehand. I don't know if I could've done that. …I was way stupider," I insist.

Maria starts to smile again. "You would've done it," she counters.

"I don't know." I can't completely give her that one.

"At least we were a good example," she concludes, "With Jerrick and me both going. So it's not like only you pulled it off. Anyone who works up enough courage can do it. …Now I just hope one of us is lucky enough to pull off the next part."

"I'll do everything I can," I hug her.

"Thank you for being my friend. Make sure Faline and Estelle and all know that they meant tons to me too."

The scores are announced. It's a tie, just like last year. But these are two scores of 8. The only district that scores cumulatively better is Two.

"Mags?" Maria prompts me.

"She's bowled over," Apple speaks for my silence.

There are higher single scores than those Maria and Jerrick have received, but not many. The highest is an 11 for the boy from 2. The 2 girl and the 7 boy both receive 10s (Kayta must be pretty fired up over that). The 10 boy takes the only score of 9. There are three other scores of 8. Everyone else is lower. Of all those results, the only one that surprises me is what comes out of 1- a 4 for the girl and a 6 for the boy.

"What do you think of the Ones?" I quiz them. I have this uneasy suspicion of deception in those scores. …then again, like Salvador, they could've botched their performance in a way not typical of their usual ability level. It's not like there aren't plenty of terrible scores. I shouldn't be suspicious. (But Jack. Jack might- It seems like something Jack would do, telling them to downplay their abilities)

"She's super nervous," Maria offers in favor of the girl's score's accuracy, "I mean, she might be able to do all sorts of stuff when push comes to shove, but she kept dropping things during training. …he seemed strong though."

"It doesn't mean he's not nervous too," Jerrick speaks up, "Or stupid. Maybe stupid because he's nervous. I wouldn't want to fight him, but I doubt it would tax either of us too much to out-think him."

"Hmm." I can think about it, but I'm not sure there's any solution to be found anyway. I hope for an opportunity to bring Jack's tributes up with him- everything he said about them during the recap commentary was generically supportive, but I've seen enough to get the impression he would always speak of his tributes this way.

"How will we celebrate these amazing scores?" Apple takes over in her impressively optimistic way.

My attention drifts... I think about how Gerik was unique in discussing a potential team-up across district lines with me. I wonder if many of the other victors have had these sorts of discussions. If there's any particular formula for handling them. Since Jack and I…work together- or at least complimentarily- so much, what does it mean (or not) that he doesn't bring that possibility up?

It's not as if no tributes ever ally with someone from another district, myself included, but I can't say there were any such alliances that came to fruition last year. As the tributes watch one another and then see those scores, do they hope to hitch their star to some tough up and comer?

"If you could team up with anyone here from another district, who would it be?" I ask, cutting awkwardly into a conversation about…well, designer bubblegum, I think, because Apple's brought some from home and everyone's discussing the different flavors.

"Leda," Maria tells me without hesitation, "You know, the girl from Two. And that was before her score, also."

"Well, Liam, if I was going by how I liked 'em," Jerrick says, "Liam O'Rize. He was the baker's boy back in Five. I don't think he's going to do so well though. He's got a real gentle disposition. Trainer had a hard time just getting him to throw the hardest punch he could as practice." He shakes his head. "Leda's okay though. I would've worked with her if everyone had lined up and said yes."

"I see," I nod, "Um, thank you."

"Mags, there's gum that tastes like mango," Maria entices me, "Try it, okay?"

I'm not about to say no to that.

I dream about an arena that's bubbling with volcanic material. Steam rises off of stinking tar. In the typical manner of dreams, whatever controls these images can't decide if I am back in the arena myself or if I am mentoring tributes there (I get the vague impression they are Maria and 'Lito, dreams having no regard for 'Lito's being too old).

I wake up hoping for a different arena for my tributes. The one in my dream seemed plenty plausible for Gamemaker tastes assuming they could pull it off.

I don't mention it to anyone. No need to let curious ears snag that one or take it away to where more suspect sorts of individuals might hear.

I suppose it stands to reason for volunteers, but Maria and Jerrick have both considered various topics they might discuss in their interviews, so instead of starting from scratch, I get to have them run these ideas by me. Apple seems impressed by how far they've thought this out ("Particularly in light of the…well, the things you said in the car right after the two of you volunteered.").

"I volunteered because I wanted to be heroic. Because I wanted to be kind like Mags."

"I have a little half-brother ten years younger than me. I hope his name is never called, but even if it were someday, I wouldn't be able to volunteer for him. I volunteered for a boy with no brothers, but who had lost his older sister last year. If my little brother is called, young and unprepared, I hope that someone will do the same for him."

"I received my score of eight for something I did with a weapon. …And, no, I can't tell you which one. You know, to keep everyone on their toes." ("You have a great laugh for this thing, Mari," Aulie speaks up to tell her his thoughts.)

"And my score was not for the same thing as Maria's. We are a versatile bunch out of Four."

Apple offers a stock sort of question: "What would you like to see in the arena?"

"The same weapon I used so well in front of the judges," Maria smiles.

"Water and lots of it," Jerrick goes for a different angle, "And not salt water, preferably. Water I can drink as well as swim in."

It's fun, in a weird way, trading these questions and remarks with them, and the talk keeps on going, floating in and out of various spaces when Erinne and her partners arrive. There's red again for Maria, reprising the color, if not the style, of the parade outfits, and for Jerrick, an outfit that leans heavily on the orange, which I expect to look a bit strange, but he actually looks quite good.

There are starfish-shaped ornaments for both of them to wear in their hair. Maria's wavy hair is teased into a big…well, I'm not sure there's a word for this look in particular since it's mostly left loose, but it's almost like a dark halo hovering low toward the back of her head.

"You're going to get more caps made, right?" Spring presses me on the matter as she puts a bit of makeup on my face to to hide a persistent bit of acne.

"It's in the pipeline now, right, Apple?"

"Yes, indeed," she assures me as she helps Jerrick with his the rather elaborate ties on his sandals.

"She wanted one so bad," Erinne fills me in, popping up from behind Maria's wave of hair to make sure I can see the extra emphasis provided by her expression, "But even though we both called in, we were too late, they were all sold. …And there was no way I was going to let her buy one of the ones some jerk is trying to resell on the Games-Net Bazaar! For five times the original price- and when we work with you?!"

"She told you, Spring," Irish chuckles.

"Well, as long as I can get one I don't mind waiting," Spring huffs.

"You'll all be taken care of, ladies," Aulie promises.

"You're both beautiful," Erinne puts down the brush in her hand down into her kit of supplies, "And, as far as I'm concerned, ready to go."

"Any last questions for Mags while it's just us?" Apple prompts them as we ride the elevator down and I try not to pay attention to that weird feeling the elevator gives me (it's not awful- I just can't figure out what my problem is with elevators).

Jerrick leans back and forth on his fancy new sandals, heel to toe, heel to toe. "Nah, I think I'm good."

"If they ask about boys, I'm not going to mention Rey. I don't want to make things awkward for him," Maria leans over and whispers, to make sure that I know this in advance, "I mean, since I don't think he even knows that I like him."

"I promise I won't bring him up," I reply.

Back in the staging area, everyone is properly signed in. It's sort of nice, in a weird way, watching Maria lean over to catch the attention of and say something to the girl from 2 in the same way I've watched her talk to Estelle and Faline on the beach.

"Fishsticks," Kayta nods his head as he comes past me, leading in his tributes. The girl doesn't look at me. The boy waggles his eyebrows and makes some remark to Kayta in dialect that leads to Kayta swatting the back of his head in return. 7's escort starts to get upset about this, but I don't stick around to see the outcome.

I am seated in roughly the same place as last year, between Beto and Shy, but Apple is behind me this time and she taps on the back of my seat so I turn around, then gives me a huge smile.

I notice Pal and Silk running along the aisle, the last victors to be seated before the program begins. I wonder what they were doing that took so long. Of course, Pal was exceedingly busy last year, but I don't see him trying to pull the same thing twice, even assuming it would work… How does having brought home a new victor change one's feelings towards your tributes after that? Pal is unique still- the only one among us who really did something concrete to bring their district's second victor home (I mean, Hector and Gerik seem like equals; Sunny looks after Teejay rather than vice versa).

Mr. Zimmer has a new, fancy suit, made out of little mirrored pieces that catches the light in…a sort of annoying fashion. I'm not sure how fully this was thought through.

The girl from 1, Sincerity, is a weak opening to these interviews. She's nervous, but she holds it together more or less. Things move along. I try not to get too invested in the stories or mannerisms of any of the other tributes. Focus, focus, focus. And then… "Maria Rasif!"

She looks beautiful. She talks about volunteering first, and then, connecting it to how confident she seems, Mr. Zimmer moves to plans for the future if she were to be the next victor.

"If I win the Games, I would like to get married. Yes, I know what you're going to ask, Mr. Zimmer," she smiles winsomely, "I don't have a special boy just yet… But think of all the boys who will talk to me if I come home a victor!"

"I have a hard time lots of boys aren't talking to you already," Mr. Zimmer plays along.

"Actually, back home, I'm kind of shy… It's sort of freeing to be among so many strangers. And then there's Mags- seeing her with Jack might have raised my standards." Maria laughs.

"I think she raised my standards too," Mr. Zimmer quips.

I can hear Apple laughing behind me. I don't cover my eyes, but I do raise my hands to my reddening face. "Oh?" Maria asks the emcee, "So who do you like?"

And that gets plenty of laughs, but he's not about to answer her.

Departing down to her seat, Maria passes "Jerrick Roy!" and they exchange a semi-surreptitious smack of hands between them.

Jerrick is grilled also on the topic of volunteering and promises that audiences should expect to see 4 field many more volunteers in the future. Mr. Zimmer asks if there's a prior connection between 4's two tributes and Jerrick explains that both of them hang around with me. He also talks about his much younger brother and his favorite subject in school, which is, well, fish, actually. Their habits and biology. He brings up some things about raising fish in special farms that I don't know anything about it.

Mr. Zimmer dubs him "more of a double threat than I would've expected. It seems you may be our first District Four intellectual, Jerrick."

"Hardly," Jerrick lets out a bittersweet sigh.

It was a good interview too, I think. I can't stop feeling impressed by their performances. I can't see what I did to deserve as good a pair of tributes as this.

Shy tenses up as her girl takes the stage. This one has bright red hair tied back in a thick braid. The boy, Liam, is small and gentle-seeming, though he's not as young as he looks- he's seventeen, the same as Jerrick, and I'm not surprised that Jerrick liked him.

The girl from 7 sings a song she's made up about clothes in the Capitol. 7's boy is well-muscled and talks about working as a lumberjack. He seems cheeky, which doesn't surprise me after the backstage interaction I caught him having with Kayta. …I wonder, if he has to choose, which of these two will Kayta invest his wedding present sponsorship funds in? I suppose he's lucky that neither of them seem to be an immediate wash the way his young and in love kids were last year.

The boy from 9 resembles Luna but isn't related in any way that he knows of. The boy from 10 works with cows. The boy from 12 is a blond, which doesn't quite match with my mental image of people from 12, particularly being that they're such a small district they wouldn't have room for all the variety of types living and mixing in 1 and 2 and such.

And out of them all, one will return. And, like everyone else in this row of seats, I want one of mine.

"I didn't know that stuff," Maria says to Jerrick when we're all back together in the car, hands folded in her lap, "About you and the fish farming. It would be something else if you could really do that sort of thing."

"Well, they breed designer fish as pets for the Capitol in One, right? I've heard something like that."

"Is that what you talk about after biology class with Gatito?"

"Yeah. That and boat stuff."

They fall silent. Maria stares at her hands, fingers clenched together tightly, then looks up at me. "Can we hold hands?"

"Oh, sure," I agree. Why wouldn't I? I am sitting between them, Maria on my right and Jerrick on my left. I hold onto both of them. Jerrick closes his eyes.

"P-please don't say anything…unwarranted," Apple asks me in a tight voice, nervously remembering my religious recitation last year for Shaya and Salvador.

"Shh," Maria whispers to her gently, "Just let us have a moment of silence."

There is good news in the form of many backed up calls from potential sponsors when we return to our quarters.

Aulie has a fancy new comm device this year and we lay on the floor and look up picture of designer fish for over an hour. Maria brings up when Jack took me to the aquarium.

Jerrick waits until Maria has turned in to tell me that he made up an impromptu sort of will back home the night before the reaping. "It's in my room, slipped in the front of a notebook. I mean, most of my stuff I'm leaving to my brother, and I'll let my family deal with it, but there's some fish stuff I figured I should give to Gatito and a skimboard I want Zeno to have…"

"It's the same kind of stuff you're going to hand down if you win and can buy all sorts of fancy new things, right?" I test.

"Hmm…yeah. Unless it's just me and Maria. There's no way I could kill someone I've known practically forever. …But I didn't tell her that. No point. How could it come down to that anyway…"

"Thank you, Jerrick," I hold his hands, "For everything. It continues to be an honor to know you."

"Yeah," he laughs nervously, "And you're not half bad yourself."

I assume both of them sleep more or less all right in the end. Neither comes and bothers me while I sit up feeling sick. Morning comes right around much too quickly.

"Peter, Zeno, Elmo, Brendan, Nicholas," Maria says, hugging me in front of the hovercraft. It's like a whisper against the noise of the big machine behind us.

"Right back at ya," I reply.

Jerrick puts his arms around us both.

"Good-bye," I wave as they're flown away. I wonder if they can see it.

I know how to put on my headphones. I understand what the various screens are for and know how the menus are arranged- there appear only to have been small internal tweaks since last year. I take my seat between Beto and Shy. Both of them offer me small greetings.

Hector cracks his knuckles.

I can hear Silk's voice, a bit indistinct through the barriers, asking Pal something- how soon I forget how new she is.

Emmy comes in with a piece of some kind of red berry pie on a plate. Ferdinand follows after like some kind of bizarre butler with a napkin, a fork, and a glass of milk in his hands and helps her get set up. She kisses the side of his hand.

"One minute to countdown," Beto announces, maybe for my benefit.

Screens start lighting up.

"Tributes secure and preparing for ascent," announces whoever was recorded saying this line.

I can hear some gaspy breathing that I think is Silk's, from the high pitch and unfamiliarity.

Peter, Zeno, Elmo, Brendan, Nicholas.

I lean back and look toward Jack, but he doesn't glance my way like last time. "Psst, Jack," I call to him.

He lifts his head. I give him a thumbs-up.

He returns it.

Longinus Bronze begins the count.

At first glance, the arena brings to mind last year's. Not thickly forested like the jungle I encountered. There are lots of rocks. But it's not some flat stretch of land like in the Thirteenth Games. The Fourteenth has brought…I think it's called a mesa.

It's not just meant to be that small of an area though. There are caves down into the rock, I think. There are ways of getting down. There's a river threading by below. There are some trees that look like evergreens.

Maria is on the right side of my screen and Jerrick is on the left. Jerrick is just breathing. "Peter, Zeno, Elmo, Brendan, Nicholas," says Maria, heard only by me and herself. She takes a deep breath and says it again.

The gong rings out.

Maria is daring and bold, among the first to approach the Cornucopia. Jerrick hesitates in place until he confirms her movement before running out to join her. The scrawny girl from 6 overtakes Maria, but this doesn't bother her at all. Maria doesn't hesitate to grab at the large pack the 6 girl had chosen and pull it from her arms, knocking her to the dry, gritty ground.

The boy from 7, with Maria and the 6 girl equally in his sights as he yanks some sort of long-bladed spear, stuck point-down in the packed soil, out of the ground, chooses the 6 girl as his target- the first death of the Fourteenth Hunger Games. Whether it was her more exposed position at that instant, her smaller size, the relative closeness of Maria's district partner and not her's, or something else, I don't know, but I'm shot through with a horrible feeling of gratitude. Thank you for not picking Maria. Let my girl get out of the Cornucopia this year.

In something of a deja vu moment from last year's Games, Jerrick brains the 2 boy with the rucksack he's chosen from the Cornucopia spoils, and as he stumbles, dazed, Jerrick points this way out as clear to Maria and the two of them break through, actually weighed down, I realize, by their supplies. Two of the four largest packages there- between them there must be something useful- and Jerrick has a long fish fillet knife in his other hand- something of a strange and lovely bit of home. Maria lets out a excited whoop, which makes me smile despite my paranoia about what this yell might bring down upon her. It's a strong start.

I think they're going to do pretty good.

A certain distance out their run slows to a fast walk.

Back at the Cornucopia, the bloodbath concludes with a bit of television-ready drama as the boy from 7 and the boy from 2, the only ones remaining there not dead or gasping out their final breaths, rather than fight it out at this moment, vow to be the last, meet again, and battle to the death then. "And I'll be sure and comfort your mother when I meet her on the Tour," the 2 boy declares, with a cocky grin and what I can only assume is a rude gesture back in 2 (Hector sighs loudly at this).

"I'll do the same for your sister!" the 7 boy answers, though his expression is grimmer and he doesn't add any hand gestures to spice up his comment.

"And here I thought all the men in Seven liked to do was handle wood," the 2 boy sniggers, running a hand through his shaggy blond locks.

The boy from 7 rolls his eyes.

They turn from one another cautiously and part ways.

On my screen, Jerrick lets Maria take the fillet knife.

Back on the showing of the main broadcast pictures of the female relatives in question are onscreen being commented on. The mother back in 7 appears ridiculously young to be the mother of an eighteen-year-old, with freckles and wavy auburn locks. The sister back in 2 is an attractively slim (as opposed to the more familiar underfed kind of thinness) blond teenager. In a weird sort of way, I'm impressed that these two boys paid enough attention to remember these family members of their opponents so well… But I hope it doesn't bring the two women any other unwanted attention.

Kayta is saying what I think are local swearwords under his breath, but I don't know what they mean.

There is only one district that has been knocked out of the running in the bloodbath: 8. I rise up on my knees on my chair to peer over at my colleagues in question. Silk is sitting in Pal's chair along with him. He is pale, but seems to be taking this double loss in stride. Silk is red-faced and sniffling, her arms around Pal's neck and her head leaned on his shoulder. Pal is speaking to her softer than I can casually hear and I don't mean to be that pushy and purposely eavesdrop.

I slip back down into my normal posture. Jerrick and Maria are laughing nervously as Maria pantomimes various fish-slicing techniques.

It's a very dry-looking arena. Lots of rocks and dust and not many plants. Water's going to be big survival issue here unless they can climb all that way down to the river or there's somewhere I'm not seeing it (a spring hidden between some rocks?). The prices for it are already starting higher than last year. I hope for a quick Games and not much dehydrated suffering on the part of the tributes. My pair, cracking into their supplies for the first time, share a can of pineapple slices in juice, trying not to spill a drop on the hard, reddish ground, though inevitably that's an impossible goal.

The rest of the first day goes by without any further death. It is growing dark by the time Jerrick and Maria reach the edge of the high rock formation the Cornucopia was situated on. I still don't know what this kind of thing is. I'm less sure by now about it being a mesa. At some point I'll hear the commentators say. Jerrick and Maria look cautiously over the side. For some distance it's rather shear, but further below are ledges and possibly caves. At the bottom of the sort of canyon, they see the river. "Do you think we should-?" Maria wonders, waving her hand in a loose sort of way to indicate down.

"Maybe?" Jerrick furrows his brow. "Maybe in the morning. It would be better with more light."

They retreat a ways to avoid resting too close to the edge of the cliff. They're sitting like this, pawing more carefully through their supplies, when the anthem starts up. The death count at this point is lower than last year's, but identical to that bloodbath. "Mira," Maria nudges Jerrick, who, having asked to take the first break, is already beginning to doze.

I try, as usual, to peer around and judge the reactions of my fellow victors. Beto is flatly neutral at the loss of 3's boy, Sunny is fretfully twisting a bit of her hair as 6's girl is shown, Teejay, fairly lucid-eyed, rubs his hand over his long-sleeved shirt at the inside of his elbow, and Kayta gives a nod to the picture of 7's girl, but clearly has his eyes on the prize with his TV-friendly boy still out there. Pal and Silk are back in their own chairs, but holding hands, as their sad gazes take in both their tributes, reflecting on what they were like maybe, or committing them to memory. The coach for District 11 is the same one from last year. He seems just as unmoved by the loss of 11's boy as he did over the early loss of the girl in the year prior. The coach for District 12, a pink-skinned (and I mean a flowery pink-pink, not just ordinary pinkish skin) woman, smiles a sad, pinched little smile for 12's girl. She's better than the last one, I bet. Just for that look, I think she has to be.

Pal and Silk make to leave and at first I think they will go silently, but at the last moment Pal turns and waves good night to us. "If you need anything, just ask," he addresses the room, though there's talking going on in some quarters and he doesn't project much, so I'm not sure everyone hears him, "I owe all of you for how you supported me last year…"

"Mmm-hmm," Silk nods.

"Oh, go get some rest," Hector waves them off, "I think you still have some of that sleep deficit to make up from last year, Pal!"

I waggle my fingers in a wave not intended to mean anything more than friendship. They go, and, not long after, Teejay follows them. Onscreen, my tributes hunker down. Jerrick expresses some pleasure over the boy from 5 having made it out of the bloodbath alive before he goes back to sleep.

Shy offers me some candy from back in 5, which I accept without concern for ruining my appetite. It would be stupid to tire myself out right away, but even with nothing happening, it's easy to stay up at this point, so I might stick around the mentoring room longer. "Did you meet Acedia?" Shy asks.

"She is…?" I shake my head no.

"Twelve's new coach. She's not bad."

"Hmm." I'm not exactly in the most opportune spot to get a good look, but Acedia appears to be pretty engrossed in something on her touchscreen- probably sponsorship items. I won't interrupt her.

Shy calls up her escort and orders a double portion of what she planned on eating for dinner so that I can eat it too. "Let's have our tributes ally together sometime," she says. "…I couldn't even get to that part this time, considering I couldn't even get the two I had to work together."

"Well, a three-person alliance would work too…"

"Luna probably had the same problem though," Shy goes on. It's true that her tributes don't appear to be together this year. "If they don't know one another beforehand, she'll probably have that trouble for a few years, what with that stunt her boy pulled last year."

I didn't think of that, since it's not as if Luna wanted him to turn on his partner (…not with that many players still on the field at least), but Shy may have a point. "What about yours then?" I inquire. "Why didn't they want to work together?"

She lets out an exasperated sort of laugh. "They're typical Fives in that sense. There's this thing we say about it- 'even when we're working together, we're each working alone.' Community spirit in Five is more about doing your own thing and not bugging people about theirs."

Our meal arrives and I remember to let Aulie know that I'm eating with Shy. We keep company for a while. I turn in when she does, leaving Sunny, Luna, Gerik, and a bunch of spellers behind.

I fall asleep fast, worn out by my lackluster sleep the night before, followed by the stress of the day.

I dream that I'm in a boat all by myself and the only things I have to row with are my hands and my yellow cap. I can move, but not very fast. I can't see any land.

I go down in the morning with somebreakfast in hand for Aulie, who happily accepts my offering. "They just got up," he informs me, "'Rick complained a little about a headache, but brushed it off as part of the whole sleeping on the uncomfortable ground sort of thing."

"Maria?" I bite into a pancake.

"Not an unhappy word out of that sweet girl."

It's shaping up to be a quiet start to the second day. When Emmy gets back in, she's singing a little tune to herself she's so happy to have both of her tributes alive and more or less well (the girl took a nasty tumble wandering around in the night, but it wasn't any sort of serious damage).

Maria and Jerrick find something tiny to eat out of their supplies. Maria is annoyed by an empty water bottle among the items she has.

Kayta sends water to his remaining tribute. Pal brings Silk in, explaining that he thinks she should watch a while to gain mentoring experience in, which no one professes to mind, but doesn't stick around himself. "There's some, umm, business left over from last year that he says he has to take care of," is the vague answer she offers when I ask.

Aulie leaves to take a nap.

I have a lot more sponsor funds than I did at this point last year, but because of the higher prices, they're worth more or less the same. I'm trying to decide whether I should just get them started out with some water so they don't use up any other potentially hydrating food supplies too fast or if should send it fast to help them keep their edge.

Jerrick takes a rope out his pack and tests it a bit, tugging it between his hands.

"What do you think?" Maria asks him, picking at a knot in her hair. "Still thinking about going down?"

"Well…" he cocks his head, looking toward the edge, "Don't you think they kind of seem to want us to? I mean, why'd they put it there if they didn't? Not just so some hopeless cases could jump."

"You have a point." Her fingers slid out of her hair.

"Even if we only went down to the first niche or cavern we found, it would still be an advantage as far as shelter and hiding out go. And if someone else tried to climb down after us, we'd have the jump on them. If the rope's left hanging, but we're waiting for someone to come, it could be a good trap."

I suppose this means that neither of them is afraid of heights.

This is a way for Jerrick to use the arena to his advantage the way he mentioned before, so in that sense, I suppose this stands to reason to be his strategy.

They cautiously go about looking for a good spot to start a descent- somewhere where the land formations seem to be in their favor in that there seems to be something to go down to within reach of the rope- and where there's something sturdy-looking enough for the rope to be secured to.

I hold out on sponsored gifts while they stick to their task.

On the large screen I see that Emmy's girl is engaged in a similar tack of careful climbing.

"I get a sick feeling just watching that," Hector says when he notices me looking. I smile at him.

Jerrick, after some discussion with Maria, chooses between two spots he liked as the place where they're going to go down. He secures the rope with a series of trustworthy knots around a heavy pine branch sticking out a ways over the side of the rock face. I have no concerns regarding his knot-tying prowess.

He goes over the side very slowly. Maria holds onto the top of his bag, hoping he won't be lost if something goes wrong.

But the rope seems to be holding. He convinces her to let go of him. Jerrick makes his way down a bit further. Indeed, the…texture, should I say?- the face of the rock is pitted in a way that I think may have been chosen to facilitate climbing. There are lots of little dips for Jerrick to hook his toes into.

"Well," he calls back up to Maria once he's found the tiniest of little ledges to more or less stand on, "Are you coming down or am I leaving you alone up there?"

"…I'm coming," she tells him and does just what she says, making the descent down to the same minuscule ledge. When she gets there, they hold hands. One hand each on the rope, the other gripped by their friend.

"Now where?" she asks, "I hope you've seen somewhere good we can reach since you're brought me down here."

"There," Jerrick points, "See that. It's the mouth of some kind of cave. Or, well, how big does something have to be to be a cave? But it goes in and it's deeper than this spot's sticking out, so."

"Once more to the breach?" she makes a funny face.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but my dad says it."

Again, Jerrick starts down first.

The rope snaps.

They fall. Jerrick only opens his mouth to gasp before his breath is snatched away. Maria screams as she teeters on the tiny ledge. Though her fingernails scrabble for a second against the packed earth, there's nothing she can do. She's off-balance and it's such a precarious spot to keep hold of. Jerrick's hands find no purchase as he moves through the air. There's nothing he can do. There's nothing substantial enough to hold onto. Just like that, both my tributes fall to their deaths.

I stare dumbly. It's over in just one horrifying moment. There is nothing I can do.