8.

Alexandrite felt it was ridiculously unfair that she had to go first. Really, why was the order the way that it was? Why did the boys go first for their training scores but the girls went first for the interviews?

She didn't have to wonder what the topic of conversation was going to be with Lucky Flickerman. It was all anyone in the Capitol was talking about, the cheating Tallis family. She'd heard enough from Grant over the past three days. She also didn't want to be told that she probably had the lowest score out of any Career tribute ever, which, again, she'd heard from Grant and Royal plenty. Royal, meanwhile, had encouraged her to lean into the scandal. The bad girl persona. She certainly had the attitude for it, he'd said, though she disagreed. She thought she was behaving pretty rationally and appropriately considering her circumstances.

However, since she really didn't have a better idea, she decided to just roll with his and get the crowd interested. At least if they were talking about her, for whatever reason, she had their attention. And if she had their attention then, well, maybe she could gain just enough of their love to get a sponsor or two, which could make all the difference.

For her interview they put her in a white floor length gown (though she felt black would have been more appropriate for the occasion). The bodice was completely covered in white gemstones that flickered whenever it caught just a little bit of light. This thing was going to be a nightmare when she was on stage, she just knew it. Her hair was held up in a wavy waterfall braid and her stylist had decided to put glittery grey, though it was meant to be silver, eyeshadow on as well as pink lipstick in an attempt to make her lips look fuller. Normally, and despite her mother and sister's many attempts to get her to wear makeup, she always refused to. It just always made her face feel dirty and heavy and gave her one more thing to wash off before bed.

She stood at the front of the line, waiting to be judged by a city full of people and it suddenly occurred to her for the first time that she would have been in that crowd watching this happen if her dreams had come true. She'd never really thought of that at all before. In her mind, the Hunger Games had never really factored into her fantasy Capitol life, it was always just her sipping tea in her apartment overlooking the entire glittering metropolis that ran her country. What a stupid dream she'd had. What a ridiculous, stupid, preposterous dream, and now here she was, doing this, dressed like this, looking like this. Her stylist and Octavia had said that she looked like a princess, but Alexandrite had ignored the compliment, declaring that she just wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

Her name was called and she'd needed to be led up there on the stage, she was so nervous. She'd also needed help sitting down even though the dress was surprisingly comfortable with its soft material. She cleared her throat as Lucky, wearing a bright indigo suit, greeted her.

"The first tribute of the night!" Lucky announced, enthusiastically. "Alexandrite Tallis, District One!"

A roar of applause throughout the stadium. Alexandrite smiled and waved awkwardly. Lucky turned his attention back to her, smiling mischievously. "Alexandrite. Welcome to the Capitol."

For lack of anything better to say, she responded, hands folded in her lap, "Thank you."

He nodded. "Alright. I think we need to address the elephant in the room. Your family has gotten into a bit of trouble, haven't they?"

She forced herself to keep smiling for the interview, but it wasn't easy. He was baiting her, she'd known this was going to happen, she'd prepared very carefully for this.

"There was a bit of a scandal," he continued, smiling. "Is a scandal and investigation currently going on in District One, though many are still just calling them rumors. I can understand you not wanting to talk about it—"

"Can you?" she asked with a sardonic tone, but still smiling wide. "You just sort of dived right into it. No preamble or anything."

His smile brightened and he let out a laugh. He gestured to the audience and encouraged them to do so as well. "The wit on this one. I like it! Nothing worse than a tribute without a sense of humor."

"Well in a very real sense, Lucky, this is all a joke," she said in that same tone. "I feel like the punchline of a very bad one."

Another roar of laughter from Lucky and the crowd.

Despite herself, her smile widened. She looked out at the Capitol, shaking her head slightly, but again, still smiling, and said almost as an afterthought. "You know, when I was a little girl—actually, not even a little girl, I dreamt about living here months ago. Having a life here. And looking back, I don't think I ever really expressed that to anyone."

A roar of Ahhs sounded throughout the stadium. Lucky put his hand over his heart. "Well, I don't think I'm alone in hoping that someday you will join us here."

A roar of applause from the audience. Alexandrite just looked at them, somehow managing to keep the smile on her face despite the wave of disgust and discomfort that was coming over her entire body.

" And I am just honored that you chose to share it with us in this very special moment," Lucky continued with a sympathetic smile.

"Well I don't really have a choice, Lucky," she said, her voice intentionally taking on a more upbeat, humorous tone. "My friends and neighbors want to kill my family, so I guess I kind of had to be here or they'd burn down my house with all of us inside."

She shrugged, intentionally irreverent.

Lucky chuckled again, but this time very awkwardly. "Yes, it's a complicated situation—"

"Yes, Lucky it is," Alexandrite said as she moved forward in her seat with purpose as she leaned in a little bit closer to him. "It is complicated. But it's actually also remarkably simple. You see, we had this friend—or at least, we thought they were our friends, and this friend's daughter found herself in a little bit of trouble. Apparently she became intoxicated and while under the influence, did something rather silly; she accidentally stole a Peacekeeper's vehicle, ran over and killed an old man."

There was a collective wave of gasps throughout the crowd. Alexandrite nodded in agreement, feeling a nasty wave of gratification at what she had only theorized about doing last night in bed consumed by rage, but now couldn't believe she was really doing it, reciting the story that she had told to the Fives.

"Yes," she continued. "Her name is Cameo Whittier, the girl who killed that man. Now, how I understand it is that she was completely shell shocked, went home and told her mother everything. Now, her mommy works in the mayor's office, so she has a certain amount of access to the district's security cameras and was able to alter them so that no one would know what Cameo had done. I know, I know, parental love is quite a virtue we pride ourselves on in District One.

"So, Silver told Cameo not to tell anyone, and for about a year she was able to keep her mouth shut. In that time she got into risk taking, she even started spending a lot more time with this really creepy guy—which I thought was weird at the time, but now I know why she was doing it, to cope. But anyway, she couldn't take it any more and was going to confess. Again, after a year, but she was still going to do it. She told her mother first. Big mistake. At least it turned out to be for me. See, Silver beat her to it. She went to the Peacekeepers and told them that if she could offer them an even worse crime—against the Capitol, not someone from District One, of course—then they would spare her daughter. Or, at least give her a less severe sentence. It was her or me, that's what Silver said to me in the end, when all of this got leaked. Silver looked me in the eye and she knew what was going to happen…she knew. She knew that my family and our connections, we had friends in the Capitol who would save us. But me…with this Quell coming up…she knew. And now I'm here. Cameo's safe. But I'm here, looking so pretty for all of you tonight."

Alexandrite looked out at the crowd and flashed them as charming a smile as she could manage. The crowd had fallen silent. No one knew what to say to this. Lucky forced a smile and pulled a long stemmed white lily out of his sleeve and handed it to her, which she took with a smile meant to portray manufactured gratitude. He said her name, her district and that was her cue to walk off stage, which she did with some gallant help from Lucky.

Alexandrite knew that she couldn't take back what she'd done to the Whittier family. Then again, was it really any worse than anything they had done and couldn't take back? Things they were more than willing to lie about and had already sacrificed someone else for?

…

Nona was tempted to pray before going up there. With that District One girl—Alexandrite—telling a story of drama, betrayal and political intrigue, everyone's attention was certainly going to be elsewhere. Nona was going to have to be extremely charismatic in order to even stand a chance of standing out. That shouldn't be too hard. After all, she did have the highest score of all the tributes. That alone would be a conversation starter.

Her stylist put her in an elegant black floor length gown with a v-neck just low enough to still be appropriate and not show more than it should. Her hair was falling in waves around her face, framing it perfectly. She looked, she thought, ferociously beautiful. Perfect.

She smiled warmly at the audience, waving as she walked across the stage, eagerly shaking Lucky's hand as she sat down with ease.

"Very nice to meet you, Nona," Lucky said.

"Thank you, Lucky," she said. "And I have to say, you look absolutely dashing, I almost didn't come on stage, I was too intimidated."

A roar of laughter throughout the crowd. A flattered Lucky laughed indulgently as well, though it did sound a little too practiced.

"Well, you look beautiful," Lucky said. She placed a hand on her chest and smiled. "Honestly, beauty and brawn?"

"And brains," she added in a sing-songy voice. Another roar of laughter. This was going well. Maybe she hadn't needed to pray after all. Grandfather had warned her that back in the days of North America, people became far too reliant on prayer, to the point where they actually began to question their own abilities and whether they were capable of functioning without it. Nona would need to watch that, especially for what was to come.

"Yes, well you must have quite a bit of those," Lucky continued. "I have to say, you have got the highest score of all the tributes. A 10. Please, tell me, what did you do for the Gamemakers?"

Nona tried to make herself blush, like she was shy about how well she had done.

"Oh good lord," he gushed, earning another roar. "Don't tell me she's humble, too! Come on! You cannot have everything. Leave something for the rest of us mere mortals."

"Honestly Lucky, I suggested to my mentor that I do a little demonstration for you all…"

Thunderous applause throughout the crowd.

Nona made a gesture with her hands as if she was quieting down the room. "But, I was told that I was not allowed to have weapons outside of the gymnasium."

A chorus of disappointed sighs and boos. She crinkled up her nose apologetically at all of them.

"Don't worry," she said, attempting to be encouraging. "You'll all see what I can do soon enough. I plan on showing off a little bit."

More applause. Nona's smile got even wider to the point where it wasn't forced in any way.

"Well, we look forward to seeing you shine out there," Lucky said. He pulled a bright, purple chrysanthemum out of his sleeve and handed it to her, and she took it with a grateful nod. She even reached over and gave him a gentle hug before walking offstage.

She smelled the flower gleefully and thought that with the way things were going, she wouldn't need to pray when in the Arena. The mere idea made her heart swell with hope.

…

After Alexandrite's interview everyone was worried about following her up. Everyone but Latia. She didn't really care about anything. In fact, when her prep team was getting her ready, she'd swiped the scissors and before anyone could stop her, she hacked her hair off to the point where it looked choppy and barely touched her shoulders. By the time they noticed she had cut off as much as she'd wanted to so they didn't have to wrestle it out of her hands.

She ignored them as they berated her for cutting off all her 'pretty hair', but after weeks of having that greasy mess on her neck, everytime she felt it, her skin actually crawled. They only trimmed it slightly so that it would be perfectly even.

They'd actually managed to salvage her hair, straightening it, making it look somewhat elegant. They put her in an ankle length light yellow multi-tiered tent dress, meant to mimic candlelight, they said. They even gave her some blush laced with sparkly glitter so that she looked like she shined in the light. They said she looked beautiful. She ignored them. She didn't smile, even when Therma half-heartedly advised her to do so. Latia hadn't wanted to talk to her about her interview strategy. Giles had even offered, but she'd insisted that she didn't want any help. Therma had waved her off in disinterest.

Lucky smiled and shook her hand as Latia took her seat, folding her hands in her lap. She imagined that she looked stone faced and cold. Good.

"Hello, Latia," Lucky said with a warm smile.

Latia nodded curtly at him.

"A little nervous, are you?" Lucky asked, attempting to be friendly and encouraging, getting a small wave of laughter from the crowd.

"No," she responded dispassionately.

Lucky looked surprised for a split second, but attempted to recover with a smile. "Well, that's good. Nerves of steel this one. Tell me something, dear—"

"I'm not your 'dear'." Her voice was icy cold. Again, that surprised look was back. "I'm not anyone's 'dear'. Sorry if my social skills are a little rusty. I've been in a jail cell for almost a month, then I was drugged and put on a train. Then I found out my parents were murdered, then I was drugged again, then I was put in some absurd cable outfit, and then I had to run around a gymnasium and dance like a money for some people I don't even know, then I was put in another absurd outfit, and it's all just a little overwhelming, you know?"

Not even Lucky could keep the smile on his face for long. They must not have given him the news about her dead parents, making him ill prepared for this. The audience had gone so silent, a pin could be heard if one were dropped. She was sure that this was going to be edited out, but she didn't care.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Lucky said automatically, sounding almost robotic as he said it.

She scoffed bitterly. "My loss. My loss. What do you know or care about my loss, Lucky? What do you know about loss? Anyone here, what do they know? What do they know about the people they're watching? They don't wanna know. Someone's kids getting slaughtered by someone else's kids like clockwork every year and they laugh and cry and pretend like they're invested in our story, but if they really were, they wouldn't let this happen. So go to hell Lucky. All of you…GO TO HELL!"

She was escorted off stage and quickly taken upstairs. Giles was panicking, but she didn't hear a word he said. She didn't watch Wicker's interview. She didn't watch anyone else's either. What did it matter? What did any of it matter?

…

Watching Inga's interview made Patch's stomach turn, which wasn't doing much to keep him from coughing blood. He requested a red handkerchief to go with his cyan suit, which was extremely complimentary, as he knew it would be.

Inga was funny and a little arrogant, but in a way that could almost be perceived as confidence. There was no way that he could ever imitate that demeanor.

Finally it was his turn and he cleared his throat, hoping against hope that he didn't cough blood, even if he was prepared for it now. Lucky smiled and gave him an almost sympathetic smile, probably because he was the youngest tribute here. But Patch would take it if that meant he would go easy on him in this interview.

"Mr. Patch Tergesen, it's very nice to meet you," Lucky said, once Patch took his seat, crossing his legs after he did so.

"Thank you Lucky," he responded. "And I have to say, I really love your suit."

"Oh, well thank you."

"It's velvet, isn't it?"

"Why yes it is. That's some impressive District 8 knowledge for you, folks, and off the top of his head, no less."

Patch smiled, feeling proud of himself. "You can thank my mentor, Satina, she taught me everything I know. Practically raised me, too."

Patch blew a kiss into the camera, the same thing that she had done before he'd gotten on the train.

Patch continued, "And if you get tired at a certain point during the night, that jacket can double as a very comfortable pillow. You can just take it off, roll it up and put it behind your head."

"Excellent advice," Lucky said. He leaned forward and his expression became just a little more serious. "Now, let's talk about you, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"You are the youngest tribute in the games. Not to mention the smallest and arguably weakest, physically that is. Your training score, while respectable, is still relatively low, especially when you consider that you also have the lowest odds of all the tributes."

Patch raised an eyebrow at him, attempting to keep his voice even. "I'm sorry, was there a question in there somewhere?"

A roar of laughter from the crowd. Lucky smiled. "It's coming, son, don't worry. I think my question is when you consider all of that, are you nervous?"

Patch actually burst out laughing. "Of course. I'd have to be an idiot not to be nervous. I know this isn't a game, whatever it might be called."

Lucky nodded, fascinated. "And were you this nervous when you volunteered?"

Patch waited a moment before taking a slight breath. "Yes. Yes. I did that…it was instinctive, to be honest. I didn't plan on doing that. It was just in the moment."

"I think you may be the youngest volunteer in the history of these games. And for someone so much older than you. Tell me, is the boy you volunteered for a good friend."

"No," Patch responded immediately, shaking his head.

Lucky's eyes went wide at this information. "He's not?"

Patch shook his head again. "No. In fact, I don't really talk to him all that much. But from what little I have talked to him, I like him. And I didn't like that he was being volunteered to volunteer. His father had clearly pushed him to do it, he didn't want to. He would have though, had I not stepped up and taken his place. He would have done that for the good of the district because he's the kind of person who would. He was actually mad at me for volunteering. But I don't regret it. It was the right thing to can't force someone to sacrifice themselves for 'the greater good'. Because that's not the greater good. The greater good is trying to protect everyone all the time from as much bad stuff as you can. Whether it's a massive flu that slowly and painfully kills so many people in the districts, or an annual event. The greater good is saving people, including yourself. And I want Tassel Spalding to know that him living through all of this, as far as I'm concerned, is the greater good. We need him. We're going to need him. All of us, for more than a bloodbath or a fist fight. Whatever his father says."

Patch looked directly into the camera as he said this. "And maybe we should be taking a closer look at the people who insist that we make these kinds of sacrifices. At their character. Maybe they're not as morally upright as they think they are. Maybe they're part of the problem."

A moment of silence from the audience, then eventually Lucky broke it.

"Well said for someone so young. You seem very determined. Perhaps those still watching shouldn't count you out just yet."

"No you shouldn't," Patch nodded, feeling confident.

"Well," Lucky reached into his sleeve and pulled out a tiny blue flower with many small petals and handed it over to Patch, who took it just as he felt a tickle start to rise in his throat that he was aggressively fighting to keep down.

"Patch Tergesen, District 8!" Lucky called out to the audience as Patch got off the stage.

As soon as he was in the hall and out of the audience's view, he ripped out the hanker chief and immediately started coughing into it aggressively.

"What's wrong with him?" Inga demanded rudely.

"Nothing," Woof said firmly, placing a hand on Patch's right shoulder. "He's fine. He did well. You did well, kid. Really well."

Still coughing, Patch raised a thumb, the only response he was able to give at the moment.

…

It seemed like Maizie was being as rude as possible for her interview. Like she was going out of her way to goad Lucky into having her thrown off the stage. When it was finally, finally over, she was handed a yellow rose and escorted off the stage. For a split second he looked all too relieved to be rid of her.

Then finally it was Emmer's turn. It was the first time he had ever worn a suit in his life, and now here he was in a black silk one. It felt like he was wearing water, but in the best way.

He got up on stage and tried to force a smile as he shook Lucky's hand and took his seat.

"Emmer Skadsen," Lucky said. "Dressed to the nines, just like your district partner."

Everyone in the crowd laughed at that, making Lucky look even more proud of his joke. He turned back to Emmer. "Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome."

Emmer straightened up in his seat. "Well I'm really glad Maizie went before me."

Everyone in the audience laughed, and so did Lucky. "Yes, yes. Your district partner, she is quite the character."

"You can tell me what you really think in private," Emmer suggested. "When we're not in polite company." He gestured to the crowd, earning another roar of laughter. What was it about common enemies that just brought people together?

"Alright, alright," Lucky gestured for the crowd to quiet down. He directed his attention back to Emmer. "Okay, so, how are you feeling right now?"

Emmer's eyes went wide with surprise at the question. "How am I—I'm nervous, Lucky. I'm really nervous. Tomorrow, anything can happen, and I do mean anything. And that's just day one. There's days and days and days after to worry about too. And that just left me to wonder…what would you do if you were me?"

Emmer wondered if he remembered being asked this same question by Demetria Langford. He doubted it, but it was clear that he was off guard. Only Emmer was determined to get an answer this time. He'd already done enough talking about his strategy for the gamemakers. He was going to hear Lucky's answer to his question.

"What would you do to impress the gamemakers?" Emmer asked. "What would be your skill? And really think about it, it's a big decision."

Lucky's jaw went slack and it actually seemed like he was considering the answer. "Well, I suppose…I would pick up a bow."

Emmer raised an eyebrow. "A bow? Have you ever used a bow before?"

Lucky looked embarrassed as he admitted, "No."

"Oh come on," Emmer playfully chastised. Based on Lucky and the crowd's reaction it was clear they all thought this was funny. "Okay, okay. Here's what I think. I think you are good at doing magic tricks, which means you are good at sleight of hand. You've been hiding who knows how many flowers in your jacket all night to give to tributes before they leave the stage, so I think that your best strategy would be hiding and camouflage. And when no one is looking, possibly stealing supplies. Now, how long that lasts, well, that depends on the amount of resources available to you, the kinds of dangers that you're facing, the other tributes, how guarded they are, how armed, there's just a lot of specifics to consider. But in general, hiding and camouflage."

Lucky nodded his head, at a loss for words. Emmer nodded, proud of himself.

"So you're a strategist," Lucky guessed. "That's how you plan on winning."

"That's how I plan on surviving," Emmer clarified. "Winning will come down to timing, which comes down to luck and preparation, which I can only do so much of since the old gamemaker's preparation plans are no longer being implemented. More of a challenge, which makes it more fun to watch, not so fun in the moment for the tributes, I imagine. I don't know, would you rather have advanced notice or would you rather be surprised?"

Emmer gave him a coy, almost challenging look that again, stumped Lucky.

"I know," Emmer said. "That is a tough one."

Lucky smiled, but his smile was a little nervous. "I'm afraid we're out of time. Ladies and gentlemen, Emmer Skadsen of District 9.

Lucky reached into his sleeve and pulled out a bright yellow sunflower and handed it to Emmer.

"Seriously," Emmer said with an amused chuckle, holding the flower between his fingers. "Where are you hiding these?"

Lucky seemed determined to keep that smile on his face. "I'm afraid we're all out of time, as I said. Tell you what, if you win, I'll tell you the trick."

Emmer nodded. "Deal."

Then he walked off the stage. When he was out of sight, he threw the flower in a nearby waste bin.

…

"Everyone here has something to say. I'm not sure what to say," Marrow said quietly to Rex who was standing right behind him, rubbing his shoulders to get him to relax. It was helping a lot. Rex was going to be here until it was time to go into the Arena, and he was so relieved, he didn't know what he would have done otherwise.

"Don't worry," Rex assured him.

"How can I not?" Marrow asked. He thought about the girls from One, Two and Five, the boys from Seven, Eight and Nine. They all had something to say. Something important or interesting. What did he have to say? What could he say that wouldn't make him sound silly in the head?

"The horses," both Rex and Hedy said at the same time. "Talk about your friends."

Marrow nodded, and took one last look at himself in the mirror, at his beige suit and burgundy tie, the nicest thing he'd ever worn in his life, feeling so unlike himself that he was almost uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and waited for someone to tell him that his name had been called. He didn't want to think that he'd heard something and then walk on stage while someone else's interview was still going on.

"Marrow, they called you," Hedy urged him gently. He immediately got up and quickly walked out on the stage.

He didn't think about all the noise, he'd tried not to concern himself with Dove's interview and how well that had gone. He tried to focus. To breathe. To—

"Marrow," Lucky said, surprising him. He realized that they'd sat down and that Lucky was addressing him. How long had he been trying to get Marrow's attention? Oh no, was the interview over? What if—

"I asked how you were feeling tonight," Lucky repeated the question with patience.

"Uh," Marrow hesitated stupidly. He swallowed. "Well dressed."

The crowd laughed, and Marrow's face fell. Was this the wrong thing to say? He tried to think about the horses. He tried to imagine himself riding the horse—

"You do look nice," Lucky laughed, gently nudging his shoulder and Marrow immediately flinched away. Lucky looked momentarily surprised, but Marrow decided to force a laugh like it was a joke, holding up his hands like he found Lucky intimidating. That seemed to work as Lucky started laughing and the crowd followed his lead. Marrow felt his shoulders relax a little.

Marrow gave voice to his thoughts from just moments earlier, "I think this is the nicest thing that I've ever worn."

More laughter.

"My goodness!" Lucky cried out, making Marrow jump a little bit. "You are delightful. Of course I had a feeling you would be. I think we all did!"

He gestured to the crowd who cheered. Marrow wasn't quite sure what he'd done that they were cheering for, but he decided that he would take it.

"Tell me," Lucky leaned in, sounding intrigued. "That stunt with the horses. Whose idea was that?"

Marrow looked down at his shoes, smiling shyly. "Mine."

More applause and cries of approval. Lucky clapped his hands together. "Brilliant!"

"Dove didn't want to do it," Marrow raised his head. "She was worried it would look like we were trying to escape and that we would get shot."

More laughter. Marrow looked up at them confused. "She was really scared. That's something that does happen in the districts—"

"Alright," Lucky cut him off, trying to keep the tone light. "I think we were all amazed when we saw you both on those horses. What made you decide to do it?"

Marrow thought about it for a second, then decided to answer honestly. "Well, I was really nervous, and back home the thing that always made me feel better whenever I was sad or scared was riding horses. And I was afraid—really afraid of standing in those chariots."

"Why?" Lucky asked, genuinely curious.

"Because if I did something wrong during the parade I thought that would ruin my chance at getting sponsors."

Several people in the crowd let out aws. Sympathy for him. They also sounded surprised by his concern, though he didn't know why. That had always been the way of the games. If you didn't impress The Capitol, you didn't get sponsors, if you don't get sponsors, you can't survive. What did they think that tributes worried about?

Looking out at the crowd, the answer occurred to him: they didn't think about what tributes like him worried about. They didn't think of him beyond his status as a tribute. It was the same way for Dove. For all of them. It had been that way for Hedy and so many others before.

Realizing this, Marrow said calmly, "I don't think I want to talk anymore."

Lucky sounded surprised. "Oh, but you still have time—"

Marrow looked up, a serious expression on his face. "I don't feel safe in this city. And I won't feel safe in the Arena. And I don't feel safe talking to you. I don't like that I have to do an interview and talk about how scary all of this is. Because that's how I feel. Dove wasn't the only one who was scared. But I told her this could be our last chance to do something fun, ever. So we rode horses for possibly the last time. Do you understand what that means? Having to savor something because you may not get it again."

Silence. Complete silence from everyone.

"No," Marrow realized coldly. "You don't. Of course you don't. Why would you?"

Marrow stood up, but before he left Lucky did the same flower trick he'd been doing all night and handed him a daisy.

"You keep that," Marrow said, his tone even. "Keep it and think of me whenever you look at it. And think about what I said."

Then he got up and walked away.