I'm posting on a Saturday just to check if my email notifs work now. I AM AT MY WITS END.

Primrose

Ever since I was young- probably eight or nine or so- I've helped my mother with her job. She's the main healer in District Twelve, for those who can't afford the apothecary in town. I guess that makes me a nurse.

Mom always does the important stuff. I'm just there as backup, usually, doing stuff like preparing medications, washing and re-wrapping bandages, stitching up a patient here and there. Most of the time, I think, I'm there for emotional support. I'm the one who tells the patients they're going to be okay…even if they're not.

I wish someone would do that for me, right now.

The clinking of dishes outside indicates it's breakfast time. I practically leap out of bed, desperate to see another human being. My bare feet slap against the hard floors, and the Avox serving woman turns around in alarm when I enter the dining room. "I didn't mean to scare you," I apologize right away. "I just…I'm really hungry."

Avoxes can't speak. They've had their tongues removed by the Capitol, as punishment for heinous crimes. It seems like a terribly cruel fate, but I wish all they were doing to me was cutting my tongue out.

She nods once and goes back to serving breakfast. It's nothing fancy- not like the food I was served on my first night here. When I was here as a guest, not a prisoner. Still, the bread, fruit, and ham is almost enough to make my mouth water, even though the thought of eating right now kind of makes me sick.

The Avox leaves, and I sit down at the long mahogany table. My hand shakes as I spoon raspberries onto my plate, and a lump forms in my throat like I might cry. I've already cried so many times in the past few days, since a duo of armed guards yanked me from my mother and threw me up here. I don't know where Mom is. I don't know where Katniss is. For the past three days, I know only what has occurred inside this penthouse, and that has pretty much just been "crying".

I know what they're going to do to me, though.

And I know what begins today.

I force myself to eat something, even though the fresh, juicy berries feel like sawdust in my mouth. I'm sure Katniss ate when she was here. I can almost hear her now, telling me, eat something, Prim- you have to keep your strength up. You can't just give up.

All I want is to give up. I can't help it. Tears stream from my eyes and onto my plate of food. I know I'm going to die. I'm going into the Quarter Quell. At least when Katniss got Reaped, we all knew she had a chance. There's no hope like that for me.

Rye comes in a few minutes later. I make a little effort to hide my tears, but not much. Over the past few days, Rye Mellark has seen me cry plenty of times.

"Morning," he says stiffly, taking a seat across from me and helping himself to breakfast. His face is red and puffy, just like mine. Rye is older than me, eighteen. I wouldn't expect an eighteen-year-old to cry, but I guess these are special circumstances.

I don't know Rye very well, but I guess we are partners now. He's the baker's son; I've spoken to a few times before, but "how much for a loaf of raisin bread?" doesn't really prepare us to go into a kill-or-be-killed battle together. He's an alright guy, I think. He's funny. And typically town handsome, with wheat-colored hair and blue eyes just like mine.

None of that will help us in the arena. We get no interviews, no chance to win over Capitol admirers like our siblings did. We're lucky we get our one day of training, and even that does little good without mentors to guide us.

Both Rye and I just pick at our food. Maybe we should be talking, but I find I have little to say. We've both accepted our fate. What's the point in hashing it out another time?

Rye doesn't seem to be in a chatty mood either, and we finish our breakfast in silence. Afterwards, we return to our respective rooms and change into training clothes: black-and-gray jumpsuits made of stretchy material. Mine doesn't fit me very well. I think it was made for Katniss.

We meet again and wordlessly step into the elevator together. It whirs as it descends, every sound feeling way too loud for my ears. Nerves bundle up inside of me. We're about to step into a whole new world, and everything is about to become horribly, unbearably, real.

It's a wonder we're able to find the Training Center at all. Tributes are supposed to have mentors to guide them- we don't. We're flying completely blind, fending for ourselves. Luckily, back when I did have a tour guide, I was pretty nosy and I have a vague idea of where things are. Also, once we get off the elevator on the correct floor, it's a straight shot.

Still, I pause at the door. Rye is beside me, but he offers little comfort. I'm sure he's just as nervous as I am. When I can avoid it no longer, I push open the door to the Training Center to meet our fates.

It's quiet. That's the first thing I notice, and it surprises me. I guess this room is meant to hold twenty-four tributes, and there are only eleven of us left. I look left and right, taking in what there is to see. The center is stocked with every weapon imaginable- shooting lanes for arrows, targets for knives, and dummies to practice with your sword, spear, or mace. There are survival stations, too- knot-tying, edible plant identification, and natural camouflage just to name a few.

I swallow hard. We can't linger by the door forever. We have to dive in. "Well…where should we go first?"

Rye shrugs. We haven't talked about this. "Uh…have you ever wanted to learn knife-throwing?"

Honestly, not really. But it doesn't seem right to complain, either. Rye leads the way and I follow behind, shoulders hunched as if to make myself appear smaller. I feel incredibly out of place here- all these other kids are older than me, and half of them have already done time in the arena. I'm certain I'm the odd one out. I keep my eyes down as we walk, and barely listen to the instructor who demonstrates proper knife-throwing form and safety.

We each get three knives to throw, at a target about thirty feet away. Rye goes first. He squints as he aims- something the instructor did not tell us to do- and manages to hit the target one out of three times. "Next time," he mutters vaguely; I'm sure he was hoping he'd be a natural.

My turn. I raise my hand uncertainly, suddenly wishing I'd paid attention. Something about a flick of the wrist? I adjust my position several times; I'm sure it's obvious I'm stalling. I even try squinting like Rye did, but that doesn't make me feel any more confident.

"It'd help if you stood up straight."

I jump at the unfamiliar voice- fortunately, I am not so startled that I drop (or worse, throw) the knife in my hand. It's not Rye; it's not the knife-throwing instructor. It's a dark-haired boy, tall and wiry, with tanned skin like he spends all his time outdoors. He has glasses on. I recognize him vaguely from the interviews that aired alongside mine- I think he's from District Four.

"Sorry," he says. "Force of habit. Anyway, forget the knives. We need to talk."

I'm dubious, but I at least lower the hand that's holding the knife. Rye pipes up, eyes narrowed distrustfully. "Who's we?"

The new boy cocks his head to the left, towards a pair of girls hunched over at the natural camouflage station. "The Careers, two-point-oh."

The Careers. The pack my sister was part of, when she was in the arena. I certainly don't have the makings of a Career- I'm not an experienced killer; I'm not bloodthirsty- but maybe none of the other siblings do either.

Rye still looks hesitant.

"I'm Hiron Hunt, by the way," the boy continues with a winning smile. He has a certain charm about him that I suspect even Rye will fall prey to eventually. "I know who you guys are already- you're Rye Mellark and Prim Everdeen. C'mon, let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

"We should at least hear them out," I tell Rye in a low voice, unable to disguise how anxious I am. We're going into the Games at a disadvantage- not just because I am only thirteen and have never killed so much as a mouse, either. An alliance is realistically our only hope.

Rye relents. "Yeah, sure. Let's talk."

We sit down at the camouflage station. The two girls there are vaguely familiar as well. One tall girl with reddish hair, the color of a not-quite-ripe peach. A smaller one with black hair and icy blue eyes, raking over me as soon as I sit down.

Hiron introduces them, even though I could probably recall their names if I thought about it hard enough. "Jewel Brand," he says of the redhead. That would be Thunder's sister. "...and Maris Talisman." Storm's sister- there's no question about that. I've seen Storm on TV every day since the Reaping, and this girl looks exactly like her, right down to the scowl.

Rye and I introduce ourselves as well, and then we get down to business. Maris takes the lead, commandeering us all easily even though she's smaller than even me. "My mentors said I had to join up with you all," she announces, clearly not excited by that prospect. "They feel sorry for you. You know, because all of your mentors deserted you."

"Thank you for the reminder, Maris," Hiron replies in a clipped tone. "We definitely appreciate your sacrifice. I, for one, think it's a good idea to team up."

I look around the table. We're kind of a ragtag bunch. Do any of us have what it takes to win the Games? Would the Capitol ever allow it? I know we're not going into the arena as real competitors- I'm young, but I'm not stupid. We're meant to be killed onscreen as punishment, to our districts, to our siblings who rebelled by destroying and escaping the arena.

The voice in my head- the one I've decided belongs to Katniss- reminds me I cannot give up just because the odds seem impossible. The odds of them successfully escaping were impossible too, and they somehow made it out.

Of course, that's what landed me in this mess…

"An alliance makes the most sense," Jewel says with a shrug. "We're all at a disadvantage, being thrown into the Games at the last minute. Most of us don't have a district partner anymore. But if we combine our strength, maybe we have a chance."

"I can ice fish," Hiron offers. His sister had showed the same skill in the arena- hopefully we're going back to the same one, which we know well from watching our siblings onscreen.

"I'm a healer!" I put in. "I can stitch and treat most any wound, and I know all about medicinal plants."

Maris sneers at that. "The arena's covered in snow. There aren't any plants, so that doesn't matter. I have three years of Career training; that's useful."

"Not to mention, you're the only one of us with a mentor," Jewel points out. "If we're to receive any sponsorships, it'll have to be through you."

Personally, I doubt we'll get any sponsors. I'm guessing not very many people like our siblings- and by extension, the five of us- right now.

Maris rolls her eyes. "Ugh. Remind me why I'm working with you guys again? Me and my sponsorships could kill all of you in seconds."

"Well, you don't have a district partner," Rye points out. "And I'm pretty strong."

"Not to mention, my seven years of Career training might give me a slight advantage," Jewel says sarcastically. It's the first time I've heard her say something that's not overwhelmingly practical, so I guess putting Maris in her place is pretty important to her. "At the best academy in District One, I might add."

Maris sneers at that too. "Oh, the best academy in District One? Like that-"

Hiron clears his throat before she can do any more damage. "Just so you know, it doesn't matter who the best Career is- we're a team. The fact that there are two of you is great. What we need is a plan."

Everyone has something to say about that- everyone except me. I know I'm not an asset to the team. Maris is right; healing is a useless skill under these circumstances. I don't know anything about finding food or shelter and I definitely don't know anything about killing. I can cook, I guess- but that probably won't be very useful.

Still, I can't stop the unfamiliar feeling blooming in my chest. It's hope. For the first time since they dragged and threw me into the penthouse, I have reason to hope.

I find the Prim chapters super fun, idk why. Hope you enjoy!