Grandpa and Michael got married at the same time in the same synagogue just to make it all simpler. Diana found it difficult to be happy, but she clapped along nevertheless, sitting on the horribly uncomfortable wooden benches.

Despite the lack of cushioning on the benches, it really was nice in the synagogue. Here, everyone acted like she belonged, even though she didn't actually believe. It wasn't something that had to be said. Diana was just part of the community and that was that. It still took her breath away when she thought of how they had literally saved her life. How many other Tributes could boast of such deep ties with people all over the country from all walks of life?

Even if Diana didn't believe, there was something soothing to the ceremonies, to realizing she was doing what her ancestors had been doing for millenia. The only exception had been Yom Kippur, when for days, she had been in a state of paralyzed confusion, unable to decide if her actions in the Games were something she needed to ask forgiveness for or not. And who was she supposed to ask, anyway? God could forgive sins against God, people could forgive you for what you had done to them, but what if the person you had wronged was dead? Rabbi Miller had done his best to counsel her, but she had still ended up feeling completely drained and empty for a week.

Not so now. Michael was happy, Grandpa was happy, Janet and Raisa were happy, everyone was happy, and Diana wasn't actively miserable, which basically counted as happy. So now there were two more people in the house, though they didn't need any extra room, for obvious reasons. Janet was a neat and meticulous person, always a good thing in the massive household (though Michael was also a clean freak, so no wonder they liked each other), and Aunt Raisa (nobody was quite sure how to refer to a step-grandma) was a true master with the sewing machine. She insisted on mending clothes even though they hardly needed to save the money by doing it themselves. Diana also sewed with her because there was nothing better to do.

As spring dawned, Diana was unhappy. Before, she had never given another thought to the Games, but now, the warmer weather was a reminder of what was looming. She tried to put all of her energy into distractions. Studying for the GED - she was now, for all intents and purposes, at a grade ten level, though she had finished the math program, as she had done plenty of that in her apprenticeship. Diana worked in the front and back yards to turn them into a garden, did chores, finished her apprenticeship for lack of any other ideas, forced Blake and Maria to come over for dinner several times a week, jogged in the mornings, went to the gym, hung out with her friends, and tried to date. Unfortunately, she had no successes on that front. Ironically, now that her family was happy about her dating and wanted to meet her partners, she never got to that stage.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Diana said, minimizing the page she had open on her computer. Nobody in the family could tell how bad her code was, but she still didn't want them to see it.

It was Leonella, and she looked nervous. "Hey." She closed the door behind her.

"Hey. Do you need something?"

Leonella shrugged and sat down on Diana's bed. Diana turned around fully, remaining cross-legged in her comfortable chair. "I just want to tell you something. I watched most of your Games."

"Of course you did - they would have shown it at your school."

"No, we were writing exams by that point." Oh, right, it was different in highschool. "I went out of my way to go watch it in the square."

Diana could only shrug. She believed her family when they said they hadn't watched it, but Leonella was the exception. Just because she didn't stay out late didn't mean she was a total shut-in, she had always had plenty of friends and of course they would have watched her Games together. "Did you want to keep an eye on me?" she guessed. Though honestly, Leonella could have been laying bets and Diana wouldn't have been surprised.

"Something like that. I was afraid any moment I saw you would be your last."

The old people talked about wondering if the letter they had received would be the last. "Well, alright," Diana said. "I don't really care. Though it is kind of weird to think about."

"I'd have died in there," Leonella blurted out, twisting her hands in her lap. "I was so glad it was you and not me."

"Statistically speaking, your odds of being chosen were even smaller than mine, and mine were already microscopic." Diana didn't know how to console normal people, but her family was easier.

"I know that!" Leonella snapped quietly - she didn't want the entire house to hear. "It's just- remember how Mom and Dad and Grandpa always wished you could be more like me? But I think you only won because you're you."

Leonella wasn't wrong. When they had been little, she had been far easier to deal with than Diana, meeting up with her friends to go to the library and never staying out late. Even later on, when Grandpa had thrown up his hands over their personal lives, declaring that if the forever-alone Leonella and the constantly dating Diana had been averaged out he would have had the perfect granddaughter, Diana had understood full well they were more worried about her. Diana had never endangered herself - in hindsight, her anxiety had manifested already then, when she had refused to consume anything at all at clubs and bars out of fear of maniacs drugging her - but they had still fretted and wrung their hands every time she said she would not be spending the night at home.

"I guess. But it's not like being a bad student helped me."

Leonella giggled. Everyone had been so disappointed when Diana hadn't been accepted into middle school, but Diana had not particularly cared, and in fact had been disappointed to be sent to trade school instead of going straight to work. Granted, her parents were both skilled workers, so that had been only to be expected. Most families didn't pressure lazy children into staying in school. Diana had once been jealous that her achievements had been a matter of course while Leonella's middle school report cards had been tacked up in places of honour (where nobody except Diana could read them) and trumpeted about to the entire tenement block, but that didn't matter anymore.

"It's more that being a bad student is part of you. It made up your personality."

Adam didn't like it when Diana called herself bad at school. In fact, her work on her GED was quite good, but she had long been used to being considered the stupid child. "And my personality is the reason I made it," Diana said. "So many of the others were lost, but I was focused."

"I don't know how you did it. I'd have been crying the entire time."

Diana herself had no idea why she was like that. "Actually, when I was in the Arena, I thought about your statistics, and it calmed me down."

"Oh, wow." Leonella smiled. "That's cool. But yeah, math is relaxing."

"Yeah." It was a bit strange talking to Leonella like this. Before, they had lived in their separate worlds. "Um, how are your friends from back home?"

"Good. We talk all the time, especially now that I have a cell phone."

"You dating anyone?"

Leonella snorted. "No. You're dating people for the both of us. How's the chemist?"

She meant the chemistry student she had dated last week. "Didn't last more than two dates. He said he wasn't feeling it."

"How do you even meet all these people?"

"I just go to the club. I can take you this weekend, if you want. They won't check your ID if you are well-dressed enough." Back home, of course, Diana had been hitting the club without any ID since the age of fourteen. In hindsight, that had been absolutely insane and practically asking to be hit on by creeps, but fortunately, she had avoided anything of the sort.

Leonella winced. "It's too loud and crowded."

"That's the point. It's like you're drowning in an ocean of sound and sensation."

"You like drowning?"

"Well, maybe that's not the right metaphor." Leonella laughed. "But yeah, I guess that's it. You're overwhelmed by the sounds and lights and kind of surrender. Let yourself drift."

"That sounds awful. But I guess if you like it, it's okay. I don't like crowds. Or people touching me. Except when my friends hug me."

"Me neither, but it's different there. It's different touching." Leonella wagged her eyebrows. "No, really, it feels so much different when you initiate it instead of Aunt Nelly swooping down on you and suffocating you."

"I'll take your word for it. Why did you even date the chemist, if you don't go together at all?"

"Because of the mindblowing sex?" Leonella's face darkened and she looked at the floor. Diana could only shake her head. "Honestly, that's the only reason."

"It's really that important to you?"

"As important as-" Diana frantically tried to think of an analogy. "As sweets. Life without it would be as miserable as a life without sweet food."

"That's crazy. I can't imagine wanting anything as much as cake. Well, maybe sleep. And other food. Like that cheesy garlic bread Aunt Sarah made yesterday."

Diana couldn't wrap her head around wanting garlic bread more than sex no matter how tasty it was, and Aunt Sarah's bread was very tasty. "Honestly, I'm kind of jealous of you - you must have so much free time since you don't date."

Leonella shook her head. "I waste time reading books and hanging out with my friends instead."

That was true. There was a bit of a running joke that if you tried to bribe a Peacekeeper or civil servant or anyone else with sex but they weren't interested, you should bring out the salami and alcohol instead. Everyone liked physical pleasure and emotional closeness, they just got them differently.

One lovely day in May, Diana decided to ask out a friend of hers from the gym. Her last partner had broken up with her immediately after she had revealed her full identity to her, citing the massive gap in their social statuses. With Francine, the gap would be the same, but Francine already knew who she was and didn't seem to mind, so hopefully it would be alright. And they were already on good terms, so she wasn't going to walk out halfway through declaring Diana to be creepy.

"You got anything now?" Diana asked off-handedly in the changeroom despite knowing the answer. Francine was in university studying computer engineering (one of the many reasons why Diana liked her) and had a very morning-loaded schedule, going to the gym immediately afterwards.

"No."

"You want to grab a bite to eat together?" Just six years ago, Diana had been paralyzed with dread when asking that question. "As in, I'm asking you on a date," she said just to make it clear. It was hard to believe that once, she'd have rather gone through surgery without anaesthesia than been so honest about her intentions.

"Sure." Francine pulled her gym bag shut and clipped it to the side of her backpack. "Where do you want to go?"

"Maybe just somewhere around here?" The gym was downtown, so just a few minutes later, they were sitting down in a shop that sold noodle soup. The proprietor's eyes widened when he saw Diana but he said nothing.

There was one big advantage to asking out your friend - there was no sitting around panicking about what to say. They just talked about the same things as always.

"How were classes today?" Diana asked. The soup she was eating was 'mildly' spicy. She liked to eat spicy things, though her tolerance was very low.

"Alright. Yours?"

"I'm going to try to get my GED over the summer and apply to start university in the winter term."

"That's great! You working on anything interesting right now?"

"No, it's just highschool stuff."

Francine tapped her chopsticks against the side of her bowl. "Do you even need a GED?" she asked. "I'm sure you could always pull strings."

"I could, but I need to know the material, so I might as well sit through the tests!"

"Even Lit?"

Diana shrugged. "I'll still have to take gen eds. With my status, I don't want to be one of those people cheating and bribing their way to a degree."

"True." Francine sipped some broth using a spoon. "Honestly, not going to lie, this is strange. I recognized you the moment you walked in. I had no idea how to act around you. I felt so bad for you when someone asked for an autograph or something."

"The disadvantage of spending time in rich neighbourhoods - lots of people have phones that can take pictures and want to take one with you."

"Phones are becoming more widespread, though."

"By that point, everyone will forget me," Diana said optimistically. "As soon as this year's are over, someone else will have all of the attention, and people have better things to worry about. Though I suppose I will always be recognized. Some people are just really good with faces."

"And you don't mind it?"

"I was convinced I'd die. I don't even care what happens now, I'm too grateful to be alive."

Even Diana could tell that Francine had no idea what to say. "What was it like?" she asked quietly.

"Scary, I guess? I don't remember the emotion well. I know I was focused."

"I never thought I could be Reaped."

"Neither did anyone else. But it always happens to two people. Like a rare disease. Spinal muscular atrophy happens to maybe one in ten thousand babies - way more likely than being Reaped, but nobody ever thinks their child could be born with it." According to Rabbi Miller, there was now a special gene therapy abroad that could cure SMA. In Diana's opinion, Rabbi Miller had better things to do than pretend he was living abroad and needed to care about things like new medicines.

"That's true. There's so many kids in that field."

"And I will have to mentor two of them."

Francine nodded. "To be honest, I'm a little bit morbidly curious to get to know the ins and outs of the entire thing."

Most of her other dates had refused to even hear of the Games.

"So am I," Diana admitted.

Two weeks before Reaping Day, Diana was called to the Capitol, where Snow personally met her to say that if she hurried, she could meet all of her 'appointments' before she had to go back. Diana got the impression that the president was playing with her. Didn't he have better things to worry about?

Of course, her opinion didn't matter, so Diana went obediently to her appointments, trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling up inside of her. A bunch of her old friends had done sex work, and they all had stories about how someone went to meet with a client and never came back. Diana tried to focus on how high-profile her clients would be - there was no way they'd strangle her and toss her body out at the dump.

Diana had had sex with something like forty people before (she had tracked the amount through her teenage years but stopped after realizing that quantity did not mean quality), but that had been fun in a way this could never be. Even if the client wanted her to be on top, there would be no spontaneity, no messing around, no randomly quoting politicians. Granted, her boyfriend when she was sixteen had broken up with her because of her constantly quoting the deputy city mayor while flirting ("There is no money, but you just hold on!"), so maybe that wasn't ever such a good idea.

And good thing, too, for this experience, because Diana's first clients were the head of the NCIA and his wife. If she screwed this up, there would be hell to pay. Was this even rape? Diana tried to imagine it as a scenario from back home. A pimp had blackmailed some random person into having sex with an important person who desired them. Yeah, this was definitely rape. Weird that it didn't feel that way.

"Bet you've never done anything like this, huh?" Primus Bradford asked airily as he unbuttoned his uniform jacket. The three of them were in Bradford's luxury apartment. Bradford was probably sixty or so, though he was very well-preserved, and his wife, a typical trophy spouse, couldn't have been more than thirty. Diana couldn't shake the mental image of them killing her.

"In what sense?" Diana asked. "I've had threesomes before." Well, only one, but best act like she knew what she was doing.

"What?" Bradford drew back, shocked. "I paid so much money for your virginity!"

Crap, crap, crap. "With all due respect, Director Bradford, several of my exes featured in my final eight interviews."

"But I didn't think-"

Diana batted her eyelids coyly, or at least tried to. "Come on, Director, do you really want someone who doesn't know what part goes where? I can give you so much more."

"You better," he said. "Rest assured I will take this up with Snow." Take up what - his own stupidity? You'd think the head of the NCIA was smarter than this. Bradford sighed. "Whatever. Give me a show. With Lucille."

Thank God Diana had done something like this before. Two years ago, there had been one time when she was flirting with a boy at the club, and he was flirting with another boy, and it ended basically with her and the first boy putting on a show for the second one. And Lucille wasn't so much older that nineteen-year-old Diana was put off by her body. She did as bid, kissing the woman all over and eventually bringing her to orgasm. Then, Bradford grabbed her by the hair (with some difficulty because of how short it was), tossed her onto the couch he had been sitting on, and anally penetrated her without any warning whatsoever.

Diana, shocked, couldn't hold back her screams of pain. Was Bradford on something? Didn't he realize how dirty anal sex with no prep was, or that he was making her bleed? The one time Diana had done this before, they had given up quickly because it was too uncomfortable for her, but Bradford obviously didn't care, and Lucille was clearly enjoying the sight.

Fortunately, it was over fast. Diana just wanted to lie down and cry, but that wasn't an option, so she got dressed, every movement causing more pain, and went downstairs to the waiting taxi. "Take me to the Training Centre." She needed to get to the hospital. She was bleeding, she didn't want to risk infection. "Can I lie down in the back?"

The driver looked at her oddly. "What if someone collides with us?"

Good point. Reluctantly, Diana sat down on one thigh and waited for the drive to be over. By the time she had arrived, she was worried about tomorrow. What if the next client also wanted anal? That could cause severe damage. She had to talk to Snow. Surely he wouldn't want her to suffer permanent consequences that made her less desirable?

"What is the problem?" the doctor asked. She was stationed here for specifically this reason.

Diana quickly recounted the situation. "Also, I need to talk to the president."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The doctor poked at her for a little while before applying a salve that made the pain go away. "There's nothing too serious," she eventually pronounced. "I'll give you a cream that you can apply three times a day and after each bowel movement until it heals." Diana imagined trying to explain to her family that she needed to squirt cream up her ass because Primus Bradford had raped her. This was not what they had had in mind when trying to scare her out of going to the club with the prospect of maniacs who allegedly lurked there in every corner just waiting to spike your drink. "Other than that, drink plenty of water, eat fibre, and take warm shallow baths regularly."

"Thanks." Shitting was going to be a nightmare.

Diana lay there for a little while, playing games on her phone, and then Snow walked in. "Good night, Mr. President." She put the phone on the side table. "Er, should I stand up?"

"No need." He sat down in a chair. "What is it that you wish to tell me?" There was an unspoken threat in his voice.

"Bradford thought I was a virgin."

Snow seemed to be taken aback for a fraction of a second, but then he laughed. "Yes. He called me to complain about how much money he had spent on your virginity. I had to remind him that, as the head of the NCIA, he really ought to have known that that honour belongs to a young lady in District Six who works in construction." Of course he knew about Trisha.

"Why did he spend so much money?"

"You can blame your stylist for that. An unfortunately large percentage of society assumes that modesty in dress is a sign of one's chastity. I knew about the betting pool, of course, but I must admit watching fools being parted from their money was too amusing to put a stop to it."

Well, maybe from his point of view, it was funny. "The doctor says I have anal fissures and should avoid inserting anything into my anus until it's healed. Do I still have to have anal if my clients want?"

Snow shook his head. "Of course not. You and your fellow Victors, my dear, are a long-term investment. Since you are, much to poor Bradford's consternation, far more experienced than he expected, I think we can trust you to know your body's limits, hmm?" Diana nodded, unsure of what she was supposed to say. "If you find yourself with a client who wants to cause you physical harm, feel free to use my name to convince them to rethink their plans." The implication was that she should not overuse this option.

"Thank you for clarifying."

"Is there anything else you wish to say?"

"No, Mr. President."

Snow smiled. "I am glad we could clear this up. I wish you a speedy recovery. Have a good night."

"You, too."

He left, and Diana sighed in relief.

Diana's next client was a young woman not interested in any butt stuff, so that was easy. Next was another threesome, but more complicated - the deputy Minister of Resources (whom Diana had constantly seen on television growing up!) wanted Diana to perform oral on her while the minister's husband penetrated Diana vaginally. Soon, Diana noticed a pattern. While her clients were, if anything, the opposite of Bradford and expected her to be as skilled as an elite sex worker, they were hiring her not for what she could do, but because of what she was. The mere fact of having a Victor in their bed was the allure. For that reason, they usually didn't demand anything too crazy. Someone who wanted to indulge in a fetish their partner wasn't comfortable with hired someone with discretion and experience, not a nineteen-year-old who was obviously constantly monitored at the highest level.

It wasn't all having sex with rich people, though. She also had to speak to all sorts of gatherings, from cadets to schoolkids to workers who had overfulfilled quotas. She had already spoken to a whole bunch of classrooms and shop-floors, so it was more of the same there. The only difference was that with the cadets, she had to spend way too much time discussing in detail exactly which of her relatives had done what in the Dark Days (politely pretending that Mom's maternal grandparents and their relatives, who had fought with the Anarchist Union, did not exist). The more Diana saw of the Capitol, the less impressive it was. Sure, the rich parts were much richer than the best neighbourhoods in Six, but slums remained slums. And Little Slovakia, the Covey slum that Diana once saw from a distance, was worse than anything she had ever seen in her life. She had known for many years that what the television showed wasn't exactly truth, but she hadn't realized it was that bad.

With a few days remaining, Diana had to go make two speeches to the staff of the Steelworks - one to productive workers, and one to the top leadership. Nothing strange, but this was the employer of some of her family, which made it feel strange to be close to the people even the bosses had mentioned in hushed tones.

The well-scrubbed workers looked like workers, with the sole exception that in the Capitol proper, it was very rare for a child under twelve to work full-time. Since it was summer, there were plenty of kids in the crowd, earning a bit of extra cash with their summer jobs. And back home, only skilled workers wore special work clothes that identified them as belonging to the company. Diana gave her usual speech (interrupted by some of the workers coughing), everyone clapped, the walls of the cafeteria had obviously only been scrubbed of mold yesterday, and a cockroach scurried across the floor.

After the speech, some of the workers approached to ask for autographs. Without thinking, Diana reached out and pinched the cheek of one of the children before recoiling in horror at the realization that she had turned into Aunt Nelly. But the children were so cute! Looking at the little workers in their identical little dark-blue jumpsuits made her desperately want children of her own. Watching parents walk away with their kids, she was seized with the painful desire to also have someone about this tall standing next to her and talking about something excitedly.

Diana told herself there was plenty of time. She was going to adopt, so no rush. But the desire for children gnawed on her from that day onward.

With the Steelworks leadership, it was trickier, if cockroach-free. These sorts of gatherings were imperative for getting sponsor money, and Chaterhan was the richest person in the country (except for Snow, who owned the country). So Diana felt nervous as she finished her speech and was taken to meet the Steel Queen herself. All of her mingling and flirting and sex up to this point had produced a sum of money that, if she did well today, could easily be doubled.

Alexandra Chaterhan was very elderly, her ninetieth birthday had been celebrated with much fanfare not too long ago. She stood flanked by her husband George, whom Diana had heard referred to as the nation's prince-consort, and a man in his early thirties. Antonius, the heir, who thankfully had not requested her presence in a more intimate setting. All three were tall even by rich people standards. Chaterhan had not lost her imposing presence despite her advanced age, George was half a head taller than his wife and still had the traces of the good looks that had made him Panem's most eligible bachelor in the antediluvian days of his youth, and Antonius seemed to have inherited nothing from his grandparents besides his height, and, of course, his status.

After greetings were exchanged, Diana had to suffer through a typical conversation with the spouse of someone important. George inquired about what she was doing, how was her family, on and on and on. Antonius stood there with a pleasant smile Diana knew was fake, because there was no way he could listen to this without being bored out of his skull. Since he hadn't hired her, Diana was able to enjoy his good looks.

George found out that Aunt Sarah worked for the Steelworks, which prolonged the conversation by ten minutes. Diana told herself this person could keep her Tributes alive in the Arena and forced herself to be lively and interested as George stumbled his way through a monologue, repeating words, losing track of what he was saying, randomly staring off into space, and often looking around, perplexed by something.

"... and our Toni has just started dating Octavia Sheppard," George said. Diana wondered how the conversation had gotten to that point and if she was supposed to know who this Octavia was - and if 'Toni' and Octavia had actually broken up five years ago. "Are you seeing anyone now, Diana?"

"I prefer to keep my personal life private," Diana said. "With the unavoidable difference in status between me and my partners, the less they are in the public eye, the better."

"Very understandable, of course. I daresay I understand you very well! Our son-in-law, Toni's father - all he does is spend our money!" George laughed. "Now Octavia, she is the daughter of - um - the biggest landowners, so…"

When with clients, Diana at least knew about how long it would take. Here, that wasn't an option. She did her best to nod along, but as the monologue about the man's endless relatives and their marriages continued without end, there was no avoiding the fact that George was very ill and could easily blurt out something inappropriate at any moment. Chaterhan had by now departed to sit with board members and sip whiskey, but Antonius, who was sitting next to his grandfather, looked very concerned.

"Now, where was I?" George asked after having stared off into space for at least ten seconds. "Um. You are from Six, right?" he asked for the fourth time.

"Yes."

"Oh, wow, so are we!" What? "Well, my wife is. I moved from here to live with her, our kids were all born there. We only moved to the Capitol after the war ended. Or was Albinus born here? Marcellus, where was your brother-in-law born?"

Diana had never thought that could be possible, but in hindsight, it was obvious that the restrictions on movement had not always been there.

"Grandpa, I am Antonius."

"Antonius, of course, silly me."

"Do you still have family there?" Diana asked.

"We do!" George listed off some names belonging to the District's richest families, including that of the manager of the factory she had worked in.

"Grandpa," Antonius said, "I think it is time for Diana to talk to the other guests. She is here on a professional call, after all."

"Of course, of course."

Diana tried to circulate, but very rapidly, she realized that she was being followed around by someone - Gaia Springer, who was in her early forties and had made a meteoritic rise through the ranks of management (thanks to connections) to oversee all of Steelworks production in Five and Six (a job that, in Diana's experience, entailed making the factory and mine managers do everything).

What was a person supposed to do when they were being assaulted? Did it even count as assault if both parties knew you'd agree to it?

"What are you doing?" she asked just in case.

Springer chuckled. "What does it look like I'm doing? I paid a lot for this hour with you."

Ugh, even here, they didn't leave her alone. Diana submitted to having sex in the bathroom out of a lack of any other ideas. When they got back out, it seemed that nobody had noticed, so that was good. She went back to mingling.

By the time that her list of 'clients' had all the names crossed off, Diana was ready to beat her head against the wall out of sheer exhaustion. How did some of the others do it practically year-round? Diana's social batteries were completely run dry. Pretending to like people and talking to them was like trying to run with a heavy backpack.

Fortunately, she would get to spend a few days at home before Reaping Day came and she had to go back to the Capitol. Unfortunately, since this was her first time mentoring, she would have to stay there for the duration of the Games, which would in all likelihood be around two weeks. And even more unfortunately, Blake and Maria weren't coming.

"I'm not surprised," Diana said to Dad when he brought it up over dinner. Eating meals as a family was exhausting but she did it for their sake. "How were they while I was gone?" Diana rubbed her forehead, trying to ignore the television, which was showing Season ∞ of the Battle of the Extrasensories. Grandpa spent way too much time watching the Unveiled Secrets channel. It was weird how he got mad whenever they mentioned the 'Elders of Zion' or whatever and then believed everything they said about aliens or Atlantis and so on.

'An extrasensory got stuck in an elevator and couldn't get out for a long time, because instead of the operator, McCollum showed up.'

Diana stifled a giggle and focused on the conversation, trying to tune out the 'seer' picking the car in which a person was hiding in the trunk from a long row of expensive cars.

"Awful," Aunt Nelly said. "Well, Maria's a little bit better, she spent the entire time painting, even if she was constantly high. Blake's just out of it."

Ironic that before, when they had lived in a working-class neighbourhood, the neighbour's addiction had not been an appropriate topic to discuss out loud. Now that they were one of the District's richest families, it was something that could be brought up in the middle of a meal.

"That's terrible." No matter how much Grandpa and Aunt Nelly and everyone else tried, you couldn't help a person against their will. If Blake and Maria just wanted to self-destruct, they'd do it no matter what anyone else did.

"Maria kept on muttering about you going through hell, but you seem alright?" Leonella said hesitantly. Sooty tried to use her lap to hop onto the table and was unceremoniously removed.

"Hell? I wouldn't go that far. Providing company for rich people isn't fun, but it's nothing compared to the Games."

Michael's eyes narrowed. "I saw you once on television. You were being pawed by some rich person."

"Yeah, that's not even the worst they did."

Silence. Everyone stared at her.

"What?" Diana said to Dad, who had his hands over his face. "Come on, let's be real, it's not anything I haven't done before."

"But it is," Dad said, crying now. Diana wished she hadn't opened her mouth. "First they try to kill you and then they do this? How can they do such a thing?"

"Who is this mysterious 'they'?" Diana asked, harsher than she had intended.

Dad helplessly spread out his arms. His mouth opened and closed a few times. "If Snow only knew," he muttered.

"Snow's the one in charge of this entire thing."

Everyone sat still. Even Sooty froze. "No," Aunt Sarah whispered.

"Yes. He told me about it."

Never in her life had Diana seen her relatives look so shocked, as if realizing that everything they had ever believed about the world was wrong.

A/N: I have no idea how atoning for killing someone works in Judaism. I asked a rabbi once, and he said that there are different interpretations.

Участник "Битвы экстрасенсов" застрял в лифте и долго не мог выйти, потому что вместо лифтёра приходил то Ленин, то Сталин.

("A participant in the 'Battle of the Extrasensories' got stuck in an elevator and couldn't get out for a long time, because instead of the elevator operator, first Lenin showed up, then Stalin." A joke I read in a newspaper when I was little.)