The feeling in Hebe's body on the morning of the reaping was much different to it was a year earlier.
Before it had been anticipation, almost excitement. It was her fate, she had known that for so long, and it was like she was finally fulfilling her destiny, charging into it headlong.
But now it was fear. Fear of returning to the Capitol again. Fear that Annie wouldn't listen to her, fear that she wouldn't be able to save the tributes that went into that arena. Everything was different this time.
She didn't know how the reaping would go. She could end up with two twelve year old tributes, or two strong careers. She could end up coaching people she had known, people she had trained with. Last time there had been a certainty, a resolve that she could cling to to push her forward. But now? It was all up to fate, and she had next to no control.
Nonetheless, she hauled herself out of bed. She'd woken up later this time; there was no training to occupy herself with anymore. Hebe could barely be bothered to shower, but she forced herself to regardless.
Once she was out, she walked over to her open closet. It was packed with outfits that Estella sent from the Capitol, each one as hideous as the next.
At the far end of her closet was her reaping dress. Hebe reached out and brushed the linen fabric. She hadn't worn it since that day. And as much as she may want to, she couldn't wear it again. It wasn't up to Capitol standards by any means.
Eventually she settled on the least skimpy outfit she could find, which consisted of a long floral skirt and a tight fitting camisole top. She pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail, twisting the odd strand that framed her face. She didn't bother with makeup; she didn't really understand it, or how to use it.
The only jewellery she wore was her token, and Luca's. She clasped the chain around her neck, holding the pieces of metal and sighing, trying not to think about her own games. They were last year's news now.
Hebe descended the stairs, and was glad to see that her mother was up and about. She was worried she wouldn't be able to drag herself out of bed. The night before she'd expressed her fear to her daughter that when she woke up she would be stuck a year in the past, and would have to watch her daughter in the hunger games again.
Hebe couldn't say she didn't share the same nightmare.
"Good morning, mum." She smiled, grabbing a piece of toast and sitting across from her.
"Morning." Juno suddenly gasped, and Hebe was worried for a moment before she broke out in a bright grin, "Don't you look gorgeous!" The older woman even reached over to pinch her daughter's cheeks, continuing to remark on her appearance.
"Thanks. You're in a good mood?"
"Oh, don't sound so surprised! We're both here, Annie's not volunteering, the world's right once again!"
For a moment, Hebe was transported back in time by the conviction in her mothers voice, a certainty she hadn't heard in so long. It was strange, for some reason, when Hebe had been steadily falling apart, her mother had managed to finally put herself back together. Maybe it was because she finally had some kind of purpose, someone to take care of. That was what she had been so good at before her husband died, after all.
"Well, I suppose that's true. We're both here."
Juno nodded, taking a sip of her coffee, "Are you all packed?"
Hebe laughed, "I don't really have anything to pack. I'm bringing my violin though, I've got a couple of performances scheduled during the games."
"Huh. Should they really be making you play when you've got tributes to be mentoring? Surely that should be your top priority?"
"If it was up to me it would be that way, yes. But the Capitol doesn't see it that way." Hebe said bitterly. She didn't tell her mother, but she would be 'working' during the games as well. That was what she was more worried about.
The pair fell into silence for a minute before her mother piped up once again, "It is a lovely instrument you've got."
Hebe stiffened slightly, "Yes, it is."
"It is a shame you don't talk to Finnick anymore, he's such a nice boy…"
"Mum, we've been over this, its-"
"Yes, yes I know, it's 'complicated'. That's what teenagers always say. That doesn't always mean it's true."
"Well in this case it is. Besides, most teenagers haven't won the hunger games," Hebe responded quickly, standing up to put her plate in the sink.
"That's true. But you can still talk it out? I mean, you won't even tell me what happened!"
Hebe sighed. She was glad her mother was getting better, but she had hoped that the more confrontational part of her would have dwindled over the years.
"And there's a good reason for that," Juno was about to retort when Hebe cut across her, "Besides, can we have this conversation another time? Today really isn't the best day for it."
"Ok, I'm sorry for bringing it up."
"I'm sorry too." Hebe replied, walking over to her mother and wrapping her arms around her.
She then exited the kitchen, telling her mother she'd say goodbye before she left for the reaping with the other victors.
Even if you weren't mentoring like Hebe and Finnick were, you were still required to attend the reaping just like everyone else in the district. More than likely another one of Snow's punishments to the victors for the crime of surviving the arena.
She still had a little while until she was due to meet Mags, so she sat down on the sofa in the living room, and struggled to collect her thoughts.
She tried to focus on the reaping, on her plans for mentoring, but her mind kept wandering away towards a certain someone. A fellow mentor.
Hebe wrung her hands, digging her toes into the plush carpet. She was terrified to face him, and the conversation with her mother certainly hadn't helped.
She knew, deep down, that she'd made the wrong choice in pushing him away all these months. And then, to give him that package like nothing was wrong? It was horrible of her, cruel even. She hoped he'd smashed that stupid cassette player to smithereens. She didn't deserve to even speak to him anymore.
But she was going to have to. For the sake of their tributes (and for her sanity).
Hebe just wished he'd reacted like any normal person would. He should've cut her off then and there, refused to speak to her in return, glared at her from across the dinner table. But no, he looked at her as he always had, offering her sad smiles each time he left.
A year ago she never would have thought he'd be so good. Even when they were at school together, she thought he was a bit of a prick, and by the time he had won the games she thought he was a full blown narcissist.
It was one of the few things she would admit to being entirely wrong about.
She threw her head back in exasperation, gearing herself up to leave the house for the reaping, an event she had been nervous about for months. She checked the clock on the wall, finally forcing herself up at the thought of leaving Mags waiting.
Hebe shouted a quick goodbye to her mother, and the woman came rushing out from the kitchen to give her one last hug and to reassure her that she'd be at the train station with her violin.
And then the girl was off, trekking across the path towards Mags' house, and smiling as she saw the older woman standing by the gate, waiting for her.
"Good morning Mags." She signed.
Mags gave her a quick greeting before asking, "Are you ready to go?"
Hebe nodded at her, holding out an arm for the woman. Mags accepted, glad for the help with walking, despite the fact it hindered her ability to communicate as she could no longer move her arms.
"Get…. Finnick…" She murmured, slurring her words slightly. She'd had another small stroke recently so her speech had deteriorated even further. Hebe was just glad that she had learnt sign language in time so they could still speak to each other.
Hebe nodded, leading her back across the street in the direction of her neighbours home. They climbed the steps together, and Hebe hesitantly stepped forwards to knock on his door. She took a deep breath as she heard his voice shout from inside, and steeled herself for this interaction. It had to happen at some point, after all.
Finnick opened the door, blinking as he noticed who was at his door. He faltered for only a moment, and quickly regained his composure.
"Hebe."
"Finnick. Good to see you."
"Yeah. You look nice." He tore his gaze away from the girl and turned to his own mentor, "So, I assume it's time to go?"
Mags nodded.
"Alright then." He held out a hand for them to go first, letting them get down the steps before he moved to walk in step with his fellow victors.
They stayed silent for the whole of the way there. For Hebe and Finnick, it was because of the painful awkwardness of the situation, having not spoken to one another for nearly 8 months, and for Mags it was because of her genuine inability to fill the silence.
At points Hebe would glance over at her mentor, trying to read his expression and body language. All she managed to gather was that he was uncomfortable. His posture was stiff, and he seemed to be taking a sudden interest in the dirt roads of 4. Hebe couldn't say she blamed him.
Every now and then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him glancing over at her as well, almost certainly trying to read her too.
She tried to stop the guilt from swallowing her whole. She knew she needed to get past it for the next few weeks, for the sake of their tributes. And that would mean she'd have to give him answers.
Eventually they reached the square, and Hebe had never thought she'd be glad to see the sight of the reaping, but at least it gave her some kind of escape from the tension that hung between the group.
They didn't walk along with the crowd towards the check-in point, and instead they split off and went around the back. Hebe walked up the set of stairs that led to the section of the stage where the mentors had to stand. Meanwhile Finnick walked Mags over to the other side to stand with her fellow victors, all of whom were already there.
Hebe took a moment to look out at the faces, craning her neck to try and spot Annie. It didn't take her long, the girl's bright red hair acting as a beacon for her to follow. She was talking to her friends from the academy, laughing happily like she always did, almost like she wasn't in the middle of a reaping.
The victor just had to pray that she would follow her advice and not put herself forward.
The crowd began to die down slightly, and Finnick soon arrived to stand next to her. Neither one acknowledged the other, instead they waited in silence for Ambrosia to begin.
Hebe remembered what it was like last year to stand in the crowd, waiting to volunteer. For some reason that was a lot less nerve wracking than where she was now. A year ago she'd felt so certain, so strong in her conviction that she was going to win. Now she was like a lost child, wondering how she was going to survive this.
She also noticed the way the children looked at her. Some with awe, and some with envy. Neither expression filled her with much hope.
But their stares were broken by Ambrosia's tinny voice through the speakers. Each head immediately snapped around to look forward, some waiting with fear, others with anticipation.
"Welcome, citizens of District 4, to the reaping for the 70th annual hunger games! Now, before we begin, we have a very special film, all the way from our glorious Capitol…"
Ambrosia continued to drone on for a while, speaking in the same glowing terms she always did. It wasn't hard to tell that Ambrosia wrote those godforsaken speeches for her victory tour.
During the film from the Capitol that they saw every year, Hebe caught Annie's eye from across the square, her eyes silently beseeching her not to volunteer, quickly mouthing a 'don't'. The girl nodded back to her, and Hebe hoped that meant she was listening to her advice.
"Is she still volunteering?" A voice whispered from beside her, and Hebe turned to see a face full of concern. He must have followed her gaze over to Annie.
"I hope not." She said quietly, looking down at her feet, and waited for the propaganda film to finish.
"Wasn't that wonderful?! Well, without further ado, let's move onto what we're all here for!" Ambrosia stepped over to the reaping bowls, standing beside the male one.
"How about we mix it up this year and pick the boys first.." She mused, waving a manicured hand over the bowl, before dipping it in and plucking out an envelope.
She moved back to the front of the stage, holding out the envelope to show the crowd, and opened it up, reading out the name written on it:
"Sole Harrow!"
A cheer came up from the 17-year old section, and a boy stood with a proud grin on his face, clearly pleased he had been chosen.
But, before he could enjoy this victory, there was a shout from further back, volunteering. Sole let out a groan, and the people filled the space they had made around him, giving him quick consolatory pats on the back.
Out from the ranks of children stepped a boy Hebe recognised from the academy, although she couldn't quite remember his name.
He was pale, with bright blond hair, and angular features. He wore a sort of smug scowl as he walked to the front and was greeted by Ambrosia.
"Well, well, and who might you be!"
"Victor Trench." He said plainly, in a tone that was almost snappy, like he wasn't happy to be there like he hadn't just volunteered. Hebe could already tell that he would be a pain to mentor.
"Lovely to meet you Victor, and congratulations. Now, onto the ladies!"
Ambrosia placed the microphone back in its stand before walking over to the other reaping bowl. She did the same thing she had for the males, hovering her hand dramatically over the paper slips, even picking one out only to drop it again. It appeared she was turning up the dramatics this year, and Hebe couldn't help but think it was the worst possible timing. Especially when she was digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands hard enough to draw blood.
Eventually she decided on one, returning to the front and opening up the paper slip. She gave a long pause before she said the name, and Hebe was certain that she could feel her heart beating out of her chest.
And then finally, she spat it out, and it came ringing across the square like some awful proclamation:
"Annie Cresta!"