Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: And here's our second batch of train rides. The favorite tribute poll is still up on my profile and will remain there through the end of the train rides.

Train Rides
And Apply Heat

Anahi Cassidy, 13
District Eleven

She didn't want to get to know him.

Anahi picked at her food, trying to ignore the boy beside her, wishing she could just go eat somewhere else. That would be impolite, of course, but this … this didn't feel right, either. Not that there was anything wrong with Olly, specifically. Well, there probably wasn't, at least. He seemed nice enough, but boys and girls weren't supposed to socialize together. That was part of the Right Way. Girls had their role, and boys had their own.

Siblings were different, of course. And that probably extended to siblings-in-law, like Tamsin and Elijah. Besides, how were they supposed to know? They didn't have to follow her rules, but … well, it would be nice if she could. Once they were actually discussing strategy, of course, she could ask to work with Tamsin alone, and once they got to the Capitol, she could train with whoever she wanted, but for now…

For now, she would just have to put up with it and do her best not to … fraternize too much. Anahi glanced over at Olly, who was shuffling a deck of cards. The cards danced back and forth rhythmically – almost hypnotically. He'd clearly done this a lot. Anahi tried to look away, but her eyes kept flickering back to the boy's hands, which barely seemed to be moving as the cards flew back and forth.

"You play a lot, then?" Elijah asked.

Olly smirked. "As often as I can. Not something you would've heard about way up in Victors' Village, I suppose, but I've made quite a name for myself in some of the more … interesting circles of the district."

Tamsin leaned back in her chair. "So you're a gambler."

"You could say that."

"Strictly cards, or do you dabble in … other venues?"

Olly chuckled. "Mainly cards, but I'm rather good at dice, as well. Strictly games of chance, though. Cobb's your man for those … other venues."

Anahi cocked her head, curious despite herself. "Other venues?"

Elijah rolled his eyes. "They mean prizefighting." When that earned him a surprised look from Tamsin, he shook his head. "Look, just because I didn't grow up on the street doesn't mean we were rich. Not until I won, anyways. I had friends who thought it was a good way to make ends meet." He turned to Olly. "Is your friend Cobb the one who tried to have a go at the Peacekeepers?"

Olly nodded. "He's only been in the ring a few times himself, mind you, but he's been known to place a bet or two, and I come along to watch."

"But not to bet?" Tamsin asked.

Olly shook his head. "Let's just say I'd rather not wager on someone else's skill. I want my success to depend on me, not on how well someone else can take a punch."

"But doesn't–" Anahi started, but stopped herself. She wasn't supposed to be getting involved with him.

Olly turned his attention to her, his hands still shuffling the cards automatically. "Doesn't what?"

Anahi bit her lip, but now all three of them were watching her. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to finish just one question. "Doesn't a game of cards depend on what the other players do, too?"

Olly shrugged casually. "To an extent. But only to an extent. Let me show you what I mean. You three up for a game?"

Elijah shrugged. "Why not?"

Tamsin turned to Anahi, who froze. "I … I don't think I should." That wasn't entirely true, of course. She didn't think she shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't. It was forbidden. Gambling was forbidden. Playing games with boys was forbidden. If her parents ever found out she'd even been having this conversation…

Then what? What could they do to her here? What more could anyone do to her? If the Great One was already displeased with her, then what more did she have to lose?

"Why not?" Olly asked.

"It's not allowed."

"Says who?"

"My parents. They wouldn't approve of … gambling."

Olly glanced around the train car dramatically. "Funny. I don't see them here. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise not to tell them."

Anahi felt her face growing warmer. It wasn't just about her parents. But she couldn't tell them the rest. It was supposed to be a secret from outsiders. From people they couldn't trust. And maybe her parents would never know, but the Great One was always watching.

Olly leaned towards her. "Look, tell you what. If we don't actually wager anything, then it's not technically gambling, right? Just a game. Just a friendly game of cards. That's all. They wouldn't have a problem with that, now would they?"

Anahi hesitated. They would. She was sure they would. But it was hard to put a finger on why. Girls and boys weren't supposed to play together, but … well, why, exactly? It was because their roles in society were different, but here … here, their role was the same. They were both tributes. They would probably both be dead soon. Did it really matter?

"Okay," Anahi agreed at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just a friendly game."

Olly grinned. "That's the spirit. Now, if your folks don't approve of gambling, I'm guessing you probably don't know too many games, so we'll stick with something simple. This one's called Bird Droppings, and four's the perfect number." He turned a few of the cards to face Anahi. "Most of the cards are numbered from two to ten. Then there's jacks, queens, kings, and aces, in that order. Got it?"

"Jack, queen, king, ace," Anahi repeated, pointing at the cards.

"Perfect. They come in four different suits, but the good news for you is, that doesn't actually matter for this game. All you need to know is there are four of each card. Don't need the jokers, either." He set two cards off to the side. "In a moment, I'm going to deal all of the cards out evenly to the four of us, so you'll get…?"

"Thirteen," Anahi answered promptly.

"Look at you catching on already. Now, the player to my left goes first, and in this case, that's Elijah. He's going to start by laying aces, if he's got any in his hand, and he'll say how many he's laying down. So, let's say he's got two. He'll say 'two aces.' Then we go around clockwise and count up in order, so Tamsin'll lay twos, you'll lay threes, and so on."

Anahi frowned. "What if I don't have any threes?"

"Then you pretend you do. You lay some other card and say 'one three.' Or more than one, if you're feeling gutsy."

"You want me to lie?"

"Not lie. Bluff. If you do it well enough, no one's going to suspect a thing. But if they do think you're bluffing, they say 'bird droppings,' and you have to show the cards you just played. If you were bluffing, you have to put all the cards that have been played so far into your hand. If you weren't bluffing, then whoever called bird droppings on you has to take the cards."

Elijah shook his head. "Hold on a second. I've played this. But we called it Bulls–"

"And we're calling it Bird Droppings," Olly interrupted. "Because there are ladies present." That earned him a snort from Tamsin, but she said nothing as he continued. "The longer the game goes on, the harder it gets to bluff, because you'll have fewer cards in your hand, and people will know what's been played."

Anahi squinted. "Will they, though? Because if you could be lying about what you're playing, then anything could have been played."

"There you go. You're starting to get it. The game's over when someone's out of cards. That's the winner. Ready to give it a try?"

Anahi hesitated. "I'm not sure."

Olly gave the cards a final flourish and started dealing. "Well, the best way to learn is to play. And remember, it's just for fun. No stakes. No pressure. Just … a learning opportunity, for both of us."

"What do you mean?"

"This game – any game – isn't really about the cards. It's about the players. And you were right. What happens does depend on what the other players do. So part of the game is figuring out what they're going to do – or at least what they're likely to do." He nodded to the pile in front of her. "Go ahead and look at your cards, but careful not to show them to anyone else."

Anahi gathered up the cards, her mind racing. Threes. That was what she was supposed to play on her turn. And she had two, but–

"Two aces," Elijah announced, laying two cards face-down on the table. But were they aces? They could be anything.

"One two."

Anahi picked the cards out of her hand. "Two threes." Four, five, six, seven. The next thing she was supposed to play was sevens. But she didn't have any.

"Two fours."

"One five."

"Three sixes."

Anahi chose a card from her hand at random and laid it face-down on the pile. "One seven."

"Bird droppings," Olly called immediately. Anahi reluctantly flipped over the card – a queen – and then took the rest of the cards.

But something caught her eye, nestled between the two fours Olly had played. An extra card – a seven, in fact. And only two of Tamsin's cards had actually been sixes. The third had been a king. "You were both lying?"

Tamsin shrugged. "Not lying. Bluffing. Although the way I learned the rules, Olly, playing three cards when you've said two is cheating."

Olly shrugged. "Only if you get caught, and you didn't call bird droppings."

Tamsin rolled her eyes and gave Anahi a playful punch. "Watch his hands carefully next time."

Olly smirked. "Watch as carefully as you like. Two eights."

Eight. Nine, ten, jack. She had one jack, but–

"One nine."

"Two tens."

"Two jacks." She laid down the jack and the card next to it, a nine.

"Three queens."

Anahi breathed a little sigh of relief. She had lied– No. No, she had bluffed. And she hadn't even needed to. She'd had a jack, but now she'd gotten rid of two cards. Sure, she was still behind, but she was getting the hang of this. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Except this was just a game. This was just for fun. No stakes, Olly had said. No pressure. Just a friendly game. But the Games … those were anything but friendly. The two of them might have to kill each other in a few days. So why was he being so … so helpful? Was he just trying to get to know her so it would be easier to figure out what she would do? But surely he didn't think she was a big enough threat to worry about in the Games. Maybe he really did just want to play a friendly game. Maybe it was a relief to forget about the Games for a little while and just … play.

"Anahi?" Tamsin asked.

Jack, queen, king… "Do we go back to aces after kings?" Anahi asked, and Olly nodded. "Okay, then. Two aces."

"One two."

"Two threes."

Anahi glanced at her cards. She had two threes, so Elijah could have the other two, but…

"Bird droppings?" she asked hesitantly.

Olly chuckled. "Is that a question or a call?"

"Bird droppings," Anahi repeated, more firmly this time, and Elijah flipped over the cards – a pair of fives. Olly nodded approvingly as Elijah scooped up the pile.

Maybe she was learning something.

Swiss Galloway, 14
District Ten

She didn't want to know any of this.

Swiss dug her fork into her second helping of dessert as Glenn, Tess, and Lucretius chatted on. It would have been one thing, really, if they were talking about the Games. About strategy. About the other reapings they had watched earlier. But they were talking about nonsense. Well, maybe not nonsense, but certainly not anything important. She didn't care what Lucretius' favorite color was, or his best friend's name, or his favorite subject, or … or any of it. None of that was important. None of it was going to help her survive.

Make sure you listen to your mentor. That was what Elouise had said. But Glenn wasn't saying anything useful. He didn't seem to want to talk about the Games at all. He just wanted to get to know them, because–

"Swiss?" Lucretius asked.

"What?" Swiss snapped, a little more sharply than she'd intended. But only a little.

Lucretius visibly drew back. "Easy. I just asked whether you like science."

Swiss blinked. Science? Who cared? It wasn't as if science was going to help them in the Games. Well, unless plant identification counted as science. Maybe it did. But that … well, that was different. That was practical. Swiss shook her head. "Don't you understand what they're doing?" she asked, nodding towards Glenn and Tess.

Lucretius cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"You think they want to know all about you so that they can help you survive? No. None of this is going to help you survive. They want to know all this … this stupid trivia about you so that when you die, they remember something about you besides the fact that you were a tribute in the Games. That's it. They want to have something to tell your family. Oh, I'm sure you'll miss the way Lucretius was always talking about science. That's all. Am I right?"

She glared at Glenn and Tess. Tess opened her mouth to say something, but Glenn laid a hand on her arm. "It's all right, Tess." He turned to Swiss. "You're half right. We do want to know more about you than the fact that you're a tribute. Because up until today, that wasn't even part of who you are. You're a person, and those little things – all those little things that make you you – they matter, even if they're not things that are going to be useful in the Games. There will be plenty of time to talk about strategy later. But in order to talk strategy, we need to know about you."

"Yeah," Lucretius piped up. "What's the harm in getting to know each other?"

"Because I might have to kill you later!" Swiss blurted out before she could stop herself. Lucretius looked startled, but she kept going. "Or you might have to kill me. And if it comes down to that, do you really want to know what my favorite color was? Do you think it'll matter to me that your best friend's name was Wilma?"

"Hilda," Lucretius corrected.

"Whatever!"

Lucretius nodded. "So you think that if we see each other as people, rather than numbers, it'll hurt more if one of us dies."

"When one of us dies," Swiss corrected. "And … yeah."

"Because if we have lives back home, if we have friends and families and favorite colors and jobs and hobbies … then so do the other tributes. If we're more than a district number, then so are they."

Swiss jabbed her fork into her cake again and took a big bite. He was right. She hated it, but he was right. She didn't want to think of the other tributes as people. The kids she'd seen during the reapings earlier – most of them hadn't been all that different from her. Scared. Crying. Desperate for someone to save them. But she couldn't think about that if she wanted to survive. She couldn't afford to feel sorry for them, because if it came down to it, they weren't going to feel sorry for her. Or at least, they wouldn't feel more sorry for her than for themselves.

"When's your birthday?" Lucretius asked softly.

"What?"

"Your birthday."

"July eleventh." A week away. The first day of the Games. She would turn fifteen, and then…

Lucretius nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"What does?"

"You're a cancer."

"A what?"

Lucretius smirked. "Oh, so now you're interested in answers."

Swiss rolled her eyes. "That's different. You can't just call someone a disease and not explain what you mean."

Lucretius chuckled. "Not that kind of cancer. This one's a crab."

"Well, I think anyone would be a bit crabby after being picked for a fight to the death."

"Clever, but not quite what I meant. The simple version is that the calendar year is split into twelve different astrological signs, and in general, people who are born under the same sign share certain traits. Cancers are … well, a bit like a crab. A hard exterior, a bit spiky, maybe a little hard to get to know, but only because they're trying to protect themselves. And once you get past that hard exterior, you get something quite different."

Swiss took another bite of cake. That sounded like most people she knew, really. It wasn't as if many people were easy to get to know. Except…

Except Lucretius seemed to be. He was practically tripping over himself to tell people things. But maybe if she could keep him talking about himself, he wouldn't bother asking her anything else. "And what does that make you?" she asked.

Lucretius smiled. "I'm a pisces. That's a fish."

Fish. Crab. "So are these all water animals, these signs?"

Lucretius shook his head. "Only a few."

"Sounds more like a District Four thing."

Lucretius shrugged. "I know I've sometimes felt a bit out of place in District Ten. Have you?"

No. Not in District Ten. She'd felt out of place with her biological family, but that was different. That had nothing to do with their district. And she'd never felt more at home than with the Renwicks, who practically were District Ten. Nothing was more District Ten than a butcher and a veterinarian. But…

But something stopped her from saying that. No harm in letting him think they had something in common. "I guess everyone probably does sometimes," she answered vaguely. "But we can't help where we're born. Or when."

Lucretius cocked his head. "When were you born?"

"I just told you. July–"

"No, I mean the time."

Swiss hesitated. Was that really a thing people kept track of? She couldn't remember either of her parents ever mentioning a time. Still, no harm in making something up. "Around midnight, I think. Why?"

Lucretius was silent for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Really? At midnight?"

Swiss shrugged. "I don't think anyone was holding a stopwatch to get the exact time, but yeah, around midnight. Why?"

"So was I. Just after midnight on March eleventh. I remember my dad telling me that they had trouble finding the doctor because it was the middle of the night, and my mother … she died. It's been the two of us ever since, and my father taught me everything he knows. After the reaping, when he came to say goodbye, he told me something."

"What?"

"He said that my life was entwined with the life of another who shares my number."

Swiss shook her head. "What's that supposed to mean? Your number?"

"Could mean a lot of things," Lucretius admitted. "Our lives involve lots of different numbers. Districts. Ages. Birthdays. Birth times."

Swiss blinked. "And you think that he was talking about me? Because we were both born at midnight?"

"Midnight on the eleventh."

"And we're both from District Ten," Swiss finished.

"I know it probably sounds silly."

It did. It did sound silly. It sounded absolutely ridiculous. And what the hell did it mean for their lives to be entwined? You could say the same thing about any two people in the Games. Their lives were all connected now – all twenty-six of them. But…

But if Lucretius thought the two of them shared something – that their lives were entwined – then maybe that could be useful. Maybe that meant he wouldn't kill her. Maybe it meant he would want to help her. She hadn't really been hoping to have him as an ally, but she could do a lot worse. Sure, he was a bit annoying, but he was older. Stronger. He could be useful.

And more than that, he thought he had her figured out. Crab, indeed. He thought that if he got past her hard shell, there would be something softer underneath. But there wasn't. There couldn't be. Not when it came to the Games. She couldn't afford to be soft.

Swiss looked up and realized Glenn was watching her, waiting for a response. Waiting to see what his tribute would do. Then, briefly, almost imperceptibly, she was sure she saw him nod.

Make sure you listen to your mentor.

Glenn was soft, and he didn't have the rough exterior of a crab, either. But he had been mentoring for decades now. He'd mentored tributes who weren't soft. Maybe he knew what he was doing after all. Maybe playing along with Lucretius' nonsense was the right move. And if it turned out he wasn't useful after all, she could always leave him later.

She was good at that.

"I don't know about silly," she lied. "I think it sounds a bit … strange. Fish and crabs and numbers and lives being entwined. But a lot of things are a bit strange. Like … well, like cattle. Did you know they have almost 360 degree vision?"

Lucretius raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Swiss nodded. "Yeah, but if you told that to someone outside of District Ten, they'd probably think it sounded a bit strange. Maybe even a bit silly." She shrugged. "But it's still true. So if you think our lives are entwined because of the numbers we share … well, maybe we stick together for a while and see what happens."

Lucretius was practically beaming. "Really?"

Swiss shrugged. "Why not? It's not like everyone else will be lining up to ally with District Ten, right, Glenn?"

Glenn hadn't had any allies – she remembered that. He'd survived by hiding all by himself in the swamp. Presley hadn't had any allies, either, unless you counted the lions she'd befriended. And Tess' only ally had been her district partner.

"It's always good to keep your options open – especially this early," Glenn answered vaguely. "But I think the two of you might balance each other quite well."

Swiss glanced back at Lucretius, who was nodding along. But he had to understand, didn't he? Even if he really believed that their lives were somehow entwined, he still knew this was the Hunger Games. He knew only one of them could survive. The other one … well, the other one would just have to settle for being remembered fondly by Glenn and Tess and their family, and slowly forgotten by the rest of the district as more tributes came and went.

Swiss swallowed hard. She wouldn't let that happen – not to her. Not to her family. And if she wanted to survive, then she was going to need help – any help she could get. Even help that was a little strange or even a little silly.

She couldn't afford to say no.

Ross Artisan, 18
District Two

He'd never really gotten to know her.

Ross watched silently as Lily and Prospero chatted at the other end of the table. Well, Lily was chatting, at least. Prospero seemed a bit overwhelmed. Which was understandable, really. The boy wasn't actually a Career, after all. And to his credit, he hadn't pretended to be. He'd understood his own strengths and weaknesses, and that was why he was sitting here as a Victor. But Ross couldn't help wondering whether he should really be sitting here as a mentor.

Of course, the others had probably figured that Lily could handle herself, rookie mentor or no. And the fact that she had allowed Prospero to take her spot last year would probably grab some of the sponsors' attention. Not that Lily seemed to have any trouble grabbing attention all on her own, if that stunt with the swords at the reaping was any clue. He'd never really gotten to know her at the academy. Even as the lower-ranked students were weeded out, there was still plenty of competition, and he'd always tended to avoid the trainees who seemed too…

What? Eager? Most of the trainees at the academy were eager, after all. Excited. Anxious to prove themselves. And that was one thing, but Lily … Lily was another.

"And then there's District Thirteen," Lily continued. "I think we could have some fun with that."

Prospero cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"Well, they don't really know how the Games work, right?"

Prospero shrugged. "I'm sure their mentors are going to explain things to–"

"Yes, but they won't think of everything. Especially the details they might not think are important to know right away. Like how getting into the Career pack works."

Prospero shook his head. "You want them in the pack?"

"No, but they don't know that. We could tell them that Careers are in automatically, but other tributes can get in too if they pass some sort of test."

"What kind of test?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. We could come up with something. Something they'd obviously fail at, but it'd be fun to see them try, wouldn't it?"

Harriet shook her head. "You're assuming they'd even want to be in the pack."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Who wouldn't want to be in the pack?"

Ross crossed his arms. "Maybe you should ask your mentor. Prospero, why might a non-Career not want to be in the pack?"

For a moment, Prospero froze, and Ross felt a bit sorry for putting him on the spot like that, but he'd had enough. What was the point of making someone think they could try out for the Career pack if she had no intention of actually letting them in? Why mess with people like that? Of course, messing with people's heads couldn't really be any worse than actually killing them, but it still felt … wrong. Maybe not a worse kind of wrong, but a different kind. An unnecessary kind.

"The Careers didn't ask me," Prospero said at last. "But I don't think I would have wanted to join the pack even if they had. I … I wouldn't have been able to keep up. I would have been the weak link. Just an extra body to have around. And no one likes feeling like that. People want to have something to contribute. They want to be useful. Non-Careers aren't going to feel useful in the pack."

Harriet nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, turn it around. Because there have been some non-Careers who have joined up with the Career pack, and who have contributed – some of them well enough to make it pretty far into the Games, and one well enough to make it out. So, what made them different?"

Lily's forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Duke? You're talking about Duke?"

"He's the only one you'd probably remember, yes," Harriet agreed. "Because he's the one who made it. So, what made him different?"

"He was interesting," Lily answered promptly. "He and one of his district partners wanted to kill each other. They went after each other in the bloodbath because the Careers had told each of them that they could join if they killed the other."

Harriet nodded. "Spot on. He was popular with the audience, but not too popular, especially after that rivalry was settled so quickly. He wasn't a threat to the rest of the pack's popularity – not in the way that, say, Logan was last year."

Lily shook her head. "So what are you saying?"

Harriet leaned back a little. "That if you're not actually interested in letting non-Careers into the pack, if you just want to mess with people's heads, that's fine. But if you're actually looking for outer-district candidates, I wouldn't focus on Thirteen. Because everyone will be focused on Thirteen. And if Harakuise and Nicodemus have any sense – which they do – they'll advise their tributes against joining the pack. That doesn't necessarily mean they'd listen, of course, but they have better options. And so do you."

Ross raised an eyebrow. "Such as?" He hadn't noticed anyone during the reapings who seemed like they'd be a particular asset to the pack. Not that he'd really been looking. A pack of six was quite large enough, in his opinion.

"I don't know yet," Harriet admitted. "Hard to tell from a reaping. You're not going to find anyone who's equal to a Career physically, and that's pretty much what you have an idea of at the start. Duke wasn't a match for a Career physically. What you're looking for is mental, and that's harder to gauge. But if you're looking for them, you'll know them when you see them."

Lily was frowning. "But we don't want to find someone like Duke, really. Because he ended up winning. We don't want someone who's going to end up beating the pack."

Harriet nodded. "Good. And you're right – to a point. But Duke didn't beat the whole pack. He beat one of them. And not physically. He outthought him. Realized what he would have to do in order to survive before the other boy did. Do you remember what it was?"

"He cut off his own leg," Lily answered. "There were chains grabbing both of them by the legs, and the mutts were closing in. They couldn't reach each other – until Duke cut off his own leg and then finished off the other boy."

"Exactly. Now, why do you think he came up with that when the other boy – his name was Owen, by the way – didn't? Owen had training, after all. The same sort of training both of you have had. He was prepared. So … why didn't he think of that first?"

Prospero opened his mouth. "He–"

Harriet raised her hand, cutting him off. "Ah-ah. Wasn't asking you, rookie. I know you understand."

"He wasn't as smart?" Lily suggested.

Harriet shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think Duke was winning any gold stars in school, either. And I think there's a better explanation. Ross?"

Ross hesitated, trying to put words to the thought that had been itching in the back of his mind ever since Harriet had brought up District Six. He tried to picture Six. One of the poorest districts. Densely-packed buildings, factory smoke filling the streets, hunger and poverty worse than even the worst places in Two. That was what everyone said, at least, and the tributes from Six generally fit that reputation. And Duke had been a gang leader in the heart of the inner district. What had he had that Owen hadn't?

"Duke was desperate," he answered at last. "And he was used to being desperate. Used to making hard choices. And that's something you can't teach in a school, no matter how hard you try. Because it's one thing to say out loud that I'd rather lose a leg than lose my life, but in the moment, actually having to make that choice, I think most people would hesitate. Owen may even have realized what he had to do, and thought twice about doing it. Duke didn't."

"He didn't hesitate," Harriet repeated.

"Yeah," Ross agreed, aware of the irony. It seemed that recently, he had done nothing but hesitate, second-guess the mentors' decision, question whether this was really what he wanted. And he still didn't want it the way that Lily seemed to. He wasn't giddy about the idea of playing mind games with tributes or whatever else she had planned. And maybe he wasn't as desperate as Duke had been used to, or as desperate as Prospero had been last year. Maybe his life so far hadn't been as bad as theirs had been, but…

But the Games were going to make it better. They were a better option than the life he would have had back in District Two. And once he won – if he won – he could use that position to make things better for other people, too. His parents. His sister. His friends. And maybe others, too, but … well, starting with them.

No, starting with him. Because in order for that to happen, he had to win. Ross met Harriet's gaze as Lily started chattering again, and Harriet nodded. Maybe he wasn't as flashy, as interesting to the audience as she was. But flashiness wasn't everything.

Because there was something else he remembered about Duke. Oh, he'd played up his rivalry with the other gang leader, Kelvin, for the audience. Talked about it during the interviews. But when the time came to actually back his words up with actions, he hadn't been flashy or dramatic. He hadn't drawn it out. He hadn't messed with people's heads. He'd grabbed the first weapon he could get his hands on and buried it in Kelvin's chest. The audience had been a bit disappointed by that, Ross remembered. They'd wanted a longer fight. They'd wanted some back-and-forth banter, some drama, some action. Duke hadn't given it to them.

And he'd still made it out. He'd survived. Because he'd put what would keep him alive over what would make things interesting for the audience. Harriet had made the same sort of decision during her Games. She'd spent weeks in that frozen wasteland, biding her time while the other tributes froze and starved, keeping a secret stash of food hidden from her allies, waiting for the right moment. Her Games hadn't been exciting. There hadn't been a lot of flashy battles. Most of the tributes she'd killed had been weak from hunger and cold. Because of that, she wasn't as popular with the audience as most of the Career Victors were.

But she was alive. Duke was alive. How many of the other Victors were alive not because they'd happened to grab the audience's attention, but because they'd made the practical choice rather than the interesting one? He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling the number was pretty high. And if he wanted to join them, then…

Then he didn't always have to make the flashy choice, the audience-pleasing choice. But he would eventually have to make a choice. Probably more than one. Whatever shape it took, he would eventually be in a position where his life would be on the line, and he would have to make a decision in the heat of the moment. Maybe not the same sort of decision Duke had, but … well, something. Kill or be killed. Fight or flee. Left or right. This way or that. And a moment of hesitation could be even worse than making the wrong choice. That was what Harriet had been trying to tell him. He couldn't afford to hesitate. It was easy to say, but when it came down to it, would he really be able to make that sort of choice?

There was only one way to find out.

"You want to know how two chemicals interact, do you ask them? No, they're going to lie through their lying little teeth. Throw them in a beaker and apply heat."