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Grey-eyed District 10 girl knows her plants. Black-haired District 7 boy is stronger than he looks and is good in a fistfight. Skinny District 3 boy…ah, shit.

I rubbed my eyes. Not a day and a half into training and already I was stumbling over what the other kids knew and at which stations they'd struggled. How did Finch expect me to keep tabs on all of them? Outside of Glenn and the two from District 4, I didn't even know their names.

My own attempts to pick up skills hadn't gone so well, either.

My palms chafed after my fourth failed attempt to start a fire. The wooden dowel I'd been drilling with to coerce an ember out of a wooden plank hadn't done much besides wear my arms out. A sad little hole in the wood looked back at me with the same sort of emptiness gnawing away at my self-confidence. I sat down in frustration, watching across the gym as the girl from District 1 launched a javelin with perfect aim into a plastic dummy's stomach thirty yards away. She made it look easy time after time. Why couldn't I even start a damn fire?

"Keep trying," said the station's instructor, a middle-aged woman with deep violet hair who smelled of an unpleasant cross of fresh flowers and stale milk. "You'll get it."

I gritted my teeth and ground the dowel into the wood for a fifth time. Somehow, this seemed a lot easier back home using a lighter or matches. Maybe the Cornucopia in the arena would be filled with matches, or the arena itself would be on fire. Then I wouldn't have to be doing this inane drilling motion over and over again, trying to spark a stupid little ember that probably wouldn't survive more than a few seconds.

Great. Great job, Terra. Now I could go freeze to death before someone came and killed me in a few days. Great.

I glanced over at the hollow-cheeked boy from District 12, who had no trouble getting a steady trail of smoke wafting from his chunk of wood a few feet away. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his calves looking no thicker than the small log he was sawing away at, but malnourishment sure hadn't stopped him from mastering a skill I was failing over and over again at.

After a few futile minutes, I laid my stick down and grabbed my forehead with both hands. This was not working. Even Glenn seemed to be getting the hang of training: Across the gym, my district partner actually smiled as he boxed with a sparring instructor. I hadn't even tried getting a hand on a weapon unit, particularly as the bigger volunteer kids had dominated those stations the past day. I was running out of time and running into a wall.

The boy from District 12 looked over with a worried expression. Frustration was pushing me close to tears, and I looked away before he could get any ideas. He probably thought I was an idiot, nothing more than something to be pitied. Look at her, I imagined him thinking. She won't last the first day. I hope someone puts her out of her misery quickly or she'll end up one of those girls who cries for their parents in short little pants while starving to death.

"That's not really a great way to do that."

I froze. He'd walked over with his own sticks and sat down next to me, laying them out beside my own poor attempts. "See?" said the boy, holding his sawing stick perpendicular to his log. "When you rub it like you were doing, it makes it harder. If you just saw it like this it's simpler."

My voice caught in my throat as he furiously rubbed away at his wood, easing a wisp of smoke out in less than a minute. I was thankful for the help, but I felt my face grow hot and my chest tighten. What if the kids from District 1 were right behind me, watching and picking me out as an easy target? She can't even light a fire; she needs the skinny boy from District 12 to help her…

"It's easy," the boy said, missing my embarrassment. "Just takes a lil' getting used to."

I nodded, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I didn't know why this always happened to me. Any hint of friendliness sent my blood pressure skyrocketing, and I wanted nothing more than to go running for a little corner to be alone.

The boy from 12 wasn't getting it. "I'm Ember," he said. "You're from 5?"

I bit my tongue. "Yeah. I'm Terra, but I should go. Training and stuff."

"Wait, I didn't mean to push you."

"No – I mean, thanks. But I need to go. It's almost time for stuff. Lunchtime. Almost."

I blushed as I hurried away towards the center of the gym, feeling his empty eyes watching me my retreat. At least I'd been right about lunch: I only stood around watching the boy from District 2 fiddle with a fishing rod for three or four minutes before the cafeteria bell sounded. I bolted out of the gym as fast as I could go, slipping through the wide doors to the barren, concrete-walled cafeteria ahead of the rest of the kids and filling a plastic plate with glistening orange sweet potatoes before the two tiny kids from District 9 had even walked in.

At least in here I could sit alone and feel like everyone else. Only a few of the other tributes had company as they settled down at the sterile-looking beige tables scattered around the cafeteria. Tethys and Delfin chatted nonstop near the doors, and a single table over, the two immaculately made-up kids from District 1 laughed at some inside joke. I was surprised the girl from 2 hadn't joined them, considering that I'd seen her tagging along in that budding team over the past day and a half.

She wasn't looking to talk alliance plans, it seemed. Instead, she'd brought trouble with her into the cafeteria.

The girl gripped her meat-and-vegetable-loaded plate as if it threatened to jump away from her, and she argued with her district partner with a harsh hiss and narrowed eyebrows. "Why do you keep doing this? Enobaria said, like, three or four times to stick together," she snarled at the brutish boy. "I don't know why you have to be so goddamn antisocial."

"Just leave me alone," said the boy. He wasn't angry. From the way he frowned with just the corners of his mouth, he looked like a wolf trying to avoid a yipping Chihuahua biting at its heels.

"I've tried inviting you to join us," the girl said, freeing a hand so she could swing it through the air as if she were swatting flies. "I tried getting you to show off a bit. You're a big guy. Why do you have to just sit there at the dumb stations like you're bored?"

"I don't want to do that other stuff."

"You're gonna die. I'm not gonna help you if you keep this up. No one's gonna leave you alone in the arena."

"I don't want your help, neither."

"Why don't you get over yourself, Acheron?"

"I just wanna be left alone."

The girl sneered at him and dashed off to join the two from District 1. I felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, Acheron, as he watched her go, his shoulders slumped and his wide mouth agape. After a few moments, he lumbered off to a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, leaning over a steaming pile of mushy green vegetables and picking at his fingernails from time to time. He'd volunteered, but I didn't think he'd done it for the same reason that the other five from the favored districts had.

I didn't get time to dwell in my thoughts, however. I hadn't expected anyone else to approach me after I'd run away from Ember, but especially not the one person I'd butted heads with here in the Capitol: Glenn.

My district partner tossed his empty plate onto the table and flopped down into the seat across from me, leaning on his elbows and letting out a long sigh. "This is kinda stupid," he said after a pause. "Who the hell learns things after two or three days of trying them out for the first time?"

I didn't answer. It was a good question – he had a habit of seeing past the face of the Games, really – but I wasn't ready to start talking considering that we'd barely spoken since after the parade.

"Are we really gonna do this?" he said. "I probably shouldn't have gotten pissy at you couple nights ago, but this has all been a bit much. Someone trying to get to know me was a little weird."

"This is probably a bad time to do that," I whispered.

"Guess so. You sprinted away from that kid at the fire station like he had measles. No use getting to know him, huh?"

I curled my left hand into a fist under the table. "I don't know if making fun of me is any better than getting pissy."

"Just sayin'. He looked like he was trying to help. Every time I look over at you in the gym, you're just standing around at stations and going through the motions, looking around and watching everyone else. I mean, I get this is all a joke too, but you're being really obvious about it."

"Finch told me to watch everyone."

"Oh, so this is a dumb strategy."

"I'm pretty sure Finch won because she's smart, not because she's dumb."

"I said the strategy was dumb. Didn't call her dumb. C'mon Terra, standing around and watching people? Do you think you're gonna remember everyone once we're out of this place and into the heat of the moment?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

"Do you even want to go home?"

"Everyone does."

"Not really," he said, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair almost to the point of falling backward. "Do you really care about home? I mean, what's really waiting for you back in the district?"

"There's just…" I stuttered. "There's…my family and stuff."

"Stuff? You sound really convinced."

"Why are you even bugging me?"

He shrugged and glanced around at the other tributes. "Guess I feel the need to talk, considering that I don't have many more chances to do so. You said you wanted to get to know me. If you're still serious after all this training bull is over, then we can talk. Family and stuff isn't here, after all."