What had she done to me?

I winced and glanced down at this…thing…Rhea had dressed me in as we rode an elevator down to the floor level of the Remake Center. My stylist must have been a bit more macabre than I thought. She'd covered me from neck to toe in a tight black-and-violet outfit that trailed a thousand string-like streamers behind me. It's as if she imagined me as some sort of shadow demon stepping out of a land of eternal night. I'd nearly gasped when I first saw myself in the mirror, with my eyes hidden beneath heavy dark makeup and my skin streaked with violent purple fault lines.

Whatever this ghoulish outfit had to do with District 5 was beyond my imagination.

"I hope they can do something with my work this year," Rhea muttered as the elevator ground to a halt.

I frowned at my bare feet, covered in vivid violent paint. That didn't sound promising. Elan had stressed building an image for the Capitol, but who was going to throw money Glenn and I's way upon seeing this?

My doubts doubled when I saw my partner. He looked resigned to his fate with drooping eyelids and a wry frown that didn't match at all the bright white-and-violet ensemble he wore. It was as if his stylist had reversed his outfit's colors from mine except for the purple styling, with the bright white jumpsuit that covered Glenn from the neck down contrasting sharply with my own suit.

It didn't help that the cavernous garage of the Remake Center was filled with tributes who looked like far better representations of their districts than we did. A pair of stunningly attractive teens from District 4, each seemingly on the cusp of adulthood, wore aquamarine gowns of shiny scales and sinewy netting. The moving, grinding gears covering the tiny boy and lanky, empty-faced girl from District 3 looked outright dangerous in an impressive way.

What shocked me more down here, however, were all the tributes behind Glenn and I's chariot. So many of them looked as if they'd never sniffed a good meal in their lives. The thin, short boy from District 12 far at the back of the garage, covered in a simple robe smeared in soot and coal dust, could have disappeared into thin air at any time. I was afraid he'd fall into a pile of skin and bones if someone didn't feed him in the next five minutes.

How did that happen? District 5 wasn't a paradise, but most everyone had a bite to eat three times a day and a solid roof over their head, even if it was only sheltering a simple mud brick hovel hewn into the canyon walls. The two kids from District 10, on the other hand, couldn't hide their empty eyes and hollow cheeks under their cowboy outfits.

I'd seen prior Hunger Games on television, and many tributes – particularly once in the arena – hadn't looked especially strong or beautiful. But something about seeing everyone here in person just feet in front of me struck me with morbid curiosity and shock.

"Hey."

I jumped at Glenn's remark. He watched me with a scrunched eyebrow, frowning as he added, "Probably shouldn't stare."

"I was just – just looking at costumes," I said. "Er, outfits. We look stupid."

"Won't matter soon," said Glenn.

What did that mean? I still couldn't figure out my fellow District 5 tribute, but I knew better than to probe. Doubtless he'd push me away, and even if he did open up to me by some chance, I slowly was growing more aware of the situation. We wouldn't be poorly-dressed kids standing around in a garage forever. Sooner or later one of us, at least, would be dead. It was a terrible thought, but I couldn't just ignore my lurking fear of what awaited in the arena for much longer.

I didn't think this dumb outfit would help my chances, anyway.

"Whoa, look at you! You look downright scary."

So much for pushing people away. The girl from District 4 sauntered up to me, her long orange hair swishing behind her. Compared to the kids from the outlying districts, she might as well have been a Capitolian, from her height to her silky skin to her clear, bright green eyes. What'd she want with me?

"Can I touch this?" she said, waving her hand through the streamers on my outfit. "Creepy. You look like you're gonna kill me."

The girl was chatty, that was for sure. I waved my hand in the air as I tried to think up something witty to say, eventually settling on: "I'm…uh, saving that for later."

She laughed, tilting her head back and half-closing her eyes like it was the funniest thing she'd heard in weeks. "I'm not gonna make you mad, then."

I shrugged. "Well…thanks. You probably wouldn't like me when I'm mad."

"God, finally someone wants to talk," said the girl. "Delfin was being so anal earlier."

"Who's –"

The boy from District 4 cut me off with a sharp cry from his chariot. "Tethys, get the hell over here. We're gonna go soon."

The girl, Tethys, sighed and rolled her eyes. "See? He's probably right though. See ya."

She paused after two steps. "What's your name? If I actually see you, it'd be weird just saying, 'Hey, girl,' and all."

The boy, Delfin, I guessed, gave me pause. He looked as if he wanted his partner to have nothing to do with me, and the way he scowled and narrowed his eyes, I got the feeling that he was the one who was going to start killing people in the garage. Why was there one of those angry-looking screwballs in every Games?

"Terra," I said, backpedaling towards my chariot. "Just – bye."

Way to end the conversation on a high note, I thought. She probably thought I was an idiot. Considering that District 4's tributes trained every year for the Games, however, her partner would probably smash me like a bug if I tried to chat with her again.

They don't want to talk with you anyway, Terra.

"Making friends?" Glenn said lazily as I hurried up into our chariot's carriage.

Funny joke. "No. She just wanted to look at this thing I'm wearing. She didn't want to be friends."

"She looked like she did."

"She laughed at me."

"She laughed at whatever you said. Gods, you can make friends. You're a decent enough person. You don't have to downplay yourself."

He worried me. It wasn't anything about the Games, no: Something about the way Glenn stared off into the distance as he said that, his gaze unfocused and every facial muscle besides his mouth still as a statue, prickled my skin.

"Glenn, are you okay?" I asked, abandoning my quest to push him away before the arena.

"I'm a little hungry."

"I mean about the Games. Back when you said you were going to volunteer…"

"Forget that. Just shut up about it."

"What?"

The garage's great iron doors creaked open and stopped me before I could get angry at Glenn's rebuke. I forgot all about the two from District 4 and Glenn's problems in a split second. As soon as our chariot lurched to a start, my outfit transformed from gloomy to terrifying.

Lighting spilled down the strands behind my dress. Violet, crackling electric snakes hissed and spat with sparks that bounced on the ground behind our chariot. I nearly jumped off and pulled my clothes off right there and then, and seeing Glenn's outfit doing the same thing didn't comfort me.

"Gah!" I yelped, pawing at my outfit.

Glenn grabbed my hand. "Just effects," he said. "Nifty."

"I don't want to get electrocuted!"

"We're supposed to get killed later, not now. It's just an effect. Power. Electricity. Y'know."

"It doesn't look like that back home!"

"Yeah, people are stupid. Just sit tight. Well, stand tight."

Rhea could have at least told me my dress would light up like a storm cloud! Every two seconds I glanced back at the sparking, crackling strands behind me, afraid the lighting would creep up my neckline and jolt me halfway down the avenue rapidly growing in front of us.

The scene out on the street shocked me even more.

Ten thousand – no, a hundred thousand – spectators dressed in every color in the rainbow shouted and screamed, like one superorganism smiling and applauding the show. The hulking towers lit up in their neon lights, the white spotlights shining off of the mountaintops around the Capitol, the baritone roar of the crowd as each new chariot rolled out into view – it all threatened to knock me off our carriage in sheer overwhelming awe.

I couldn't smile, couldn't wave. My breath caught in my throat and I looked up at the imposing Training Center rearing up before us in a stupor. Everything here was supersized, from the buildings to the cheers of the crowd.

For a moment, just a moment, I let myself believe some of those cheers were for me.

I hardly heard the words of the tiny men up on a high platform as the chariots circled the end of the avenue. Everything had turned into a blur by then, a great, gray haze that pounded me endlessly with a hundred decibels. My legs wobbled. I'd forgotten we were even on screens across the entire nation now, not just contained here in this little bubble world that I'd already lost myself in. Would my brother even recognize me in all this?

The thought sobered me as our chariot wheeled towards the gaping maw of the Training Center ground floor. This whole great cacophony had swept me up so fast that I'd barely even recognized what was going on any more. We were still in the Hunger Games. Keep your head on straight, Terra.

Right. I squeezed my eyes shut to clear my head from the haze and smoky residue left behind by countless fireworks.

Tethys and Delfin chatted like good friends in the chariot in front of us. So much for animosity – although when I looked around, I noticed they were the only pair who seemed to enjoy each other's company. The two kids from District 2, a brawny boy with hair the color of ash and a wiry, broad-shouldered girl, had opened up an entire ocean's worth of space between each other on their chariot.

I stared at them as our chariot slowed to a halt inside the Training Center garage. The two from District 2 allied almost every year, along with 1 and 4. If that wasn't the case this year, well…the thought gave me a burst of confidence.

Mentors fanned out around the garage, and Finch jogged up to our chariot as I stepped off the carriage. She had a bright smile on, but when she got closer, I saw creases lining her eyes.

"Good job, guys," she said. Beneath her breath, she added, "Need to talk to your stylists."

I grimaced. "Was it bad?"

"Nah, it's fine," she said hurriedly. "We can work things out. We'll talk about what's coming up in the next couple days when we get upstairs. C'mon. If we stay here too long, we'll let everyone else get a good look at you two. Gotta avoid that."

Glenn made a point of walking on the other side of Finch as we cut a path through the crowd to get to the elevator. Was he that mad about my question? I knew I should've avoided the issue, but I couldn't help but want to know why he was being so elusive.

We beat all the other districts to the elevator at the rear of the giant garage, but we had company before the doors could close. A golden-haired, stunning-looking man slipped his hand inside the doors before they could close, flashing a smile of perfect white teeth at Finch before ushering in a pair of tributes after them. From the girl's long, fluffy blonde hair to the boy's lean muscles to their gaudy emerald dresses, I could tell who they were: District 1.

"Just one floor. We can share," their mentor said, sliding up next to Finch. She eyed him with a frown and scooted away. "Not having much fun?"

A massive hand slammed the inside of the elevator as the door started to close again. In strode Daud, reeking of some flowery-smelling perfume and clutching a stick of something meaty in his hand.

The District 1 mentor snorted.

"What?" Daud snarled as the doors closed.

"What? Nothin'," the other man said.

"Whole lot of nothin' comes dribbling out of your lips every time I run into you."

The other mentor crossed his arms and grinned. As the elevator stopped after a floor, he said, "Funny guy. Wish you had a younger mentor with you. Finch is a bit old for me."

He waved as the door closed. Daud spat on the ground and said, "Gloss thinks he's so damn special. Goddamn bootlicker."

"The point is not to draw too much attention," Finch sighed.

"We could try something different," Daud said.

"No," she replied. "You see those two from 2? They looked like they wanted to kill each other. Maybe it was just a passing thing, maybe not. Either way, we can let that boil over and see what's what. Better if they drum up tension against each other. Maybe the usual volunteer alliance is only five rather than six this year. Any little advantage is good for us."

I felt proud of myself for guessing that as well. Finch had a point: I didn't exactly want to become everyone's top target.

"Wasn't paying much attention to 2," said Daud.

"Did you pay attention to anything?" Finch said.

"You know damn well what I was doing."

Finch fell silent. I didn't know what the other mentor had meant, but given the awkward quiet that dominated the elevator as it rose the last two floors to our compartment, I felt it was another subject I should avoid.

"Home sweet home," Daud muttered as the doors opened.

I caught a gasp in my throat. The fifth floor was a sprawling apartment, filled with gleaming chrome furniture in the dining room, shiny wood paneling on the walls from floor to ceiling, and enormous glass windows that opened up a look onto the busy Capitol streets below. It made my fancy bedroom on the train look like a pauper's quarters.

"You two," Finch said, turning to Glenn and me. "Go get washed up; take whatever bedroom you want. We'll take it easy tonight and go over the serious stuff tomorrow morning. Off you go."

Glenn just nodded. He hadn't said a word since our outfits had lit up, and I felt guilty as we trudged down the hall. As soon as we were out of Finch's and Daud's sight, I stopped him.

"Glenn, I –" I started, stumbling over what to say. "Look, I want us to be okay with each other."

"What?" he said.

Lord, I'm going to sound like an idiot. "If there's something bugging you, you can tell me. We only have a little time until the arena, and we don't really have anyone else."

He curled his lip and furrowed his brow. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I'm trying to help. Something's bugging you."

"Don't try to get in my head. Don't act like Finch."

"What is your problem?"

"Oh, yeah, yell at me for having some privacy. Great."

Heat flushed my face. I wanted to know more about him, but at the same time, I wanted someone to be there who I could talk to – someone who wasn't just a mentor in what could be my last days. Glenn's aloofness only made me press harder. "I just want to talk! You don't have to be all angry about it."

"No, you're just really nosy," Glenn said. "Is this what you and your friend were talking about when you were spying on me in the canyon yesterday before the Reaping?"

I swallowed hard. Whoops.

"You want to help?" he said, opening the door to the nearest bedroom. "Help yourself and stay the hell out of my life. You wouldn't like what's in it, anyway. Go have fun prying into someone else's mind before we both die, Terra."

He slammed the door in my face. My Hunger Games were not off to a good start.