The next morning was uneventful, save for the dread Maze felt.

In exactly twenty-four hours, her continued existence on the planet would not be guaranteed. She could very well be dead in twenty-four hours.

This dread turned her stomach, so she did not eat much at brunch. Alt felt the same way, judging by the way he picked at his food.

After brunch, they had a few hours of downtime before prep for the interviews began. Maze didn't do too much during those few hours.

She and Beetee chatted a bit. Beetee asked her about her hijinks, and she described some of them to him. To her surprise, he seemed amused by them. He even offered his perspective on some of them and how he himself would have made them more efficient and amusing. Maze was shocked to see this side of him.

Philomena turned on some Capitol game show on one of the screens, so Maze watched some of it with her. It involved Capitol citizens playing games on a stage with numerous large, flashy gadgets and a host that tried and failed miserably to imitate Caesar Flickerman. The winners of the games got large sums of money and prizes like new cars and tickets to fancy resorts and casinos. The losers got sent home with nothing but their own tears.

Maze envied the losers.

After a few hours, Maze and Alt got whisked away back to the Remake Center to prepare for their upcoming interviews. Xenia, Glaucia, and Paris once again stripped Maze and got to work on her. They bathed her and washed her hair, before staging an assault on the body hair that had somehow appeared on her during the four days between sessions with them. They plucked her like the first heron Beetee had caught during his Games.

Once she was clean, dry, and mostly hairless, they zeroed in on her hair and makeup.

Makeup was first. They started with applying creams and powders to her face that did who-knows-what to it. Next, they framed Maze's eyes with metallic gold eyeliner, drawing in a geometric pattern with small circles. They then penciled in Maze's eyebrows and applied glimmery pink gloss to her lips. Lastly, Xenia dabbed some glitter onto her cheekbones, brow bones, hands, arms, and the tip of her nose. The entire process took about forty minutes to complete.

Next was her hair, which didn't take long. They just took two of the longer strands of hair near her face and twisted them, before pinning them back behind her head. The rest of her hair was left alone, except for a quick comb-through. Lastly, they sprayed glitter spray onto her hair.

Maze had a feeling her outfit would contain plenty of glitter.

Once her hair and makeup were complete, Harmonia came in with a garment bag and a smile on her face.

"Special delivery!"

Harmonia helped Maze into thin, sheer underwear. She then instructed Maze to close her eyes and helped her step into her interview outfit. It felt like a jumpsuit of some kind; soft fabric gently encased both of her thighs. Harmonia zipped up the back.

Harmonia had her step into flat shoes and put something around her wrists and waist, before clipping earrings onto her ears.

"You can open your eyes now," Harmonia said. Maze could hear the smile in her voice.

She opened her eyes and gasped.

Harmonia had once again made Maze look amazing. She now wore a silver jumpsuit made of a soft fabric that was both shiny and glittery, with a high collar and short sleeves. The fabric both hugged her thin frame and draped around it. The flats on her feet matched the jumpsuit. Clasped around her waist was a golden belt made of interlocking loops, and the bracelets encircling her wrists matched the belt. Her golden earrings and the golden eyeliner completed the ensemble.

Maze was right — her outfit had glitter aplenty.

The only thing Maze could muster up to say was, "I'm shiny!"

Harmonia chuckled at her response. "You sure are! Your mentor told me what your angle would be, so I decided to make sure you captured everyone's attention."

"I love it," Maze breathed, angling her body back and forth and watching the light catch her ensemble in the mirror.

"Oh! And here's the finishing touch!" Harmonia plucked Maze's ring from her pocket.

Maze let out a delighted gasp, a smile springing onto her face. "My ring!"

She extended her hand, and Harmonia pushed it onto her middle finger. It was shiny too and looked as though it had been polished, but other than that, it was unchanged.

Maze rubbed her thumb over the little ball bearings, the smile not leaving her face. She had missed her ring. Some of the constant cortisol that had been coursing through her system since she had been Reaped dissipated.

Harmonia led Maze out of the prep room and down the hallway. Beetee met them somewhere down the hall. He too was dressed up, wearing a tuxedo.

"I followed your instructions, Beetee, I made her look like herself," Harmonia said, gesturing to Maze.

"A much shinier version of myself," Maze added, doing a little spin so Beetee could see her outfit from all angles.

He gave an approving nod, the corners of his mouth turning up. "It looks great. You look great, Maze."

Harmonia dug in her pockets again, before pulling another thing out of them. "This is for you, Beetee. Feel free to reject this, but I thought it would be a nice touch if you and Maze matched. I feel like mentor and tribute matching is an untapped niche."

Harmonia held a folded piece of cloth of the same material Maze's jumpsuit was made of. Upon further inspection, Maze realized it was a tie.

Beetee took it, unfolding it and examining it. "I'll accept this. I agree with your statement. Thank you, Harmonia."

He undid and whipped his other tie off, folding it and shoving it in his pocket, before tying the new one around his collar.

The three continued down the hall to the elevators and got in one. The elevator doors opened into the backstage area of the interview stage. Other tributes filed in from the other elevators.

Harmonia and Beetee both wished Maze good luck, before splitting off and heading out to the audience, from where they'd be watching.

After a few minutes, someone with a clipboard began organizing all the tributes in a line, lining them up in order of appearance. Maze was fifth in line, between the District 2 boy and Alt. The District 2 boy, towering above Maze in a hunk of muscle, once again donned his signature silver sparkly eyeliner. Alt wore an indigo suit, not too far off District 3's assigned color, that was well-tailored and flattering to his lanky proportions. He looked the best Maze had ever seen him look.

The tributes marched onto the stage, which was washed in darkness. They sat in shiny white chairs arranged in two rows of twelve in a semicircle, on a raised platform above the stage. Out in the audience, Maze could see similarly raised sections for the stylists and mentors. From a distance, she couldn't pick out anyone she recognized. Gamemakers in purple robes and film crews filled the balconies of the nearby buildings. The indistinct conversations of the audience filled the air as they waited for the event to start.

The familiar fanfare that played at the start of every Hunger Games event started up. The lights turned on, and Caesar Flickerman appeared on the stage, posing and letting the audience cheer for him.

The first thing Maze noticed was the brightness of the stage lights. They were so bright that outside of the stage, hardly anything could be seen. The audience disappeared into a shroud of near-darkness and mystery. If it weren't for their thunderous applause and cheers, Maze could almost pretend they weren't there.

Caesar gave some opening comments and jokes, and then the first tribute came down from her seat: the girl from District 1, the girl Maze thought resembled Cortana. She wore a full, sapphire-blue ball gown, and her brown waves bounced slightly as she strutted onto the stage.

Like all the District 1 female tributes that Maze could remember, she was beautiful, glamorous, and deadly. The audience ate her up, cheering at every statement she made about killing her opponents.

One thing that stood out about her was that back in District 1, she was an actress in plays as well as a Career academy student.

"I know the importance of a good show," she said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "And that's what I want to give you all: a good show."

Her district partner and the District 2 girl's interviews were similar. They showed off how powerful and deadly they were, with an air of cockiness. The Capitol's perfect killing machines.

Then, the District 2 boy walked out onto the stage and Maze started to get nervous. She was after him. Her heart hammered in her chest and ears, drowning out the boy's name as Caesar announced it to the crowd. Maze hugged herself, trying to calm herself down.

The boy showed off his outfit, a monochromatic ensemble with a long coat, to the crowd, striking several poses to wild cheering. His dark skin glimmered under the lights. The posing went on for a good thirty seconds.

The boy obviously thought he was Panem's gift to the world.

The content of his interview only confirmed that. Not only was he egotistical, but he was patriotic to the point where it was almost concerning to Maze. He talked at length about how he wanted to become a Peacekeeper if he hadn't been Reaped and how he now thought of it as his duty to the country to fight in the Hunger Games and die if it came to that.

Maze couldn't fathom anyone from 3 ever being that patriotic. District 3 was one of the first districts to rebel during the Dark Days. As punishment — although officially unconfirmed, but everyone knew it — the Capitol polluted the entire district. They were the ones responsible for the thick air that blocked out the sun, washed the color out of the district, and attacked people's lungs. There was a disease that the people of District 3 often got, called graylung, that left people unable to breathe for many days. Many died of it. Maze had a bout of graylung when she was eight years old. She didn't wish it on her worst enemy.

The buzzer went off, signaling the end of the boy's interview. He stood up, gripped Caesar's hand, and worked him into his posing. The crowd went nuts. Cameras flashed from the audience.

Anxiety overtook Maze. She thumbed her ring, fingers trembling.

She was up.

Finally, the applause for the District 2 boy began dying down, and someone wearing all black at the side of the stage motioned to Maze, indicating she was next.

She sat up straight and prepared to stand up, moving her thumb over her ring one last time. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"And now, for someone who we've been curious about since her Reaping, and even more curious about since the tribute parade," Caesar announced. "The one and only, Maze Donahue, from District 3!"

Maze took a deep breath, stood up, and walked out onto the stage to thunderous applause.

Maze, spurred by adrenaline, sprang to life. She waved to the audience with both hands as she walked, plastering a bright smile onto her face. The audience loved this. Their cheers grew louder.

She caught a glimpse of herself on the large screens above the audience. In the stage lights, her outfit shone like starlight, or something else equally otherworldly.

She made her way over to Caesar. After watching him so much the last few days on a screen, he almost felt like an old friend to Maze. The blues of his suit and the greens of his hair and makeup in real life hurt her eyes to look at.

He shook her hand, beaming at Maze like they were in fact old friends. "Nice to finally meet you, Miss Donahue!"

Maze spoke. "Thank you."

Her voice reverberated around the City Circle. Something, perhaps some hidden microphone, amplified her voice. Or perhaps the microphone that Caesar held was so powerful it picked up her voice too.

"I love your outfit!" Caesar complimented her. His teeth shone almost as bright as the stage lights. "Your stylist did a great job on you!"

"Thank you," Maze repeated, returning his smile. "And yes, she sure did."

She took a cue from the District 2 boy and spun around a few times, showing off all angles of her outfit. The crowd oohed and aahed in admiration.

"It's brilliant," Caesar said. "My highest compliments to your stylist!"

The screen briefly cut to Harmonia, sitting in the stylists' section. She gave a shy smile to the camera. A text box on the screen said her name and that she was Maze's stylist.

Caesar sat down in his chair, and Maze took that as her cue to sit on the couch. She folded her hands in her lap, making sure her left hand covered her right so she could fidget discreetly with her ring.

"So, Maze, you got an eight in training," Caesar commented. "Wow!"

"I sure did," Maze replied. "I wasn't expecting such a high score." She briefly chuckled.

"Neither were we," Caesar responded. "A District 3 tribute hasn't scored that high in many years! How did you pull it off?"

"I…" Maze had to think about how to respond for half a second. She definitely would not be explaining the minute details of her session. Beetee had taught her well.

She finally came up with something. "That's a secret!"

She winked at the audience, hoping she came off as cute and playful rather than awkward. "I'll tell you that it was something that the Gamemakers would either find very, very funny or very, very annoying. They seemed to have found it funny, thankfully. Or maybe they thought I'd be able to annoy my opponents to death."

Maze wasn't sure how her last remark would land, but thankfully, the audience laughed. The Gamemakers, up on their balcony, also laughed.

Caesar laughed too. "Oh my! And you're so young, too! You're thirteen, correct?"

"Yep! I turn fourteen on the 16th."

Caesar raised his brows. "Really? Happy early birthday, then!"

"Thank you," Maze said for the third time that interview. Despite her best efforts, her mouth moved before her mind. "I hope I survive to my birthday."

She tried not to cringe at her own words as she said them. Maybe she was being herself a bit too much.

The audience gave a dark chuckle that seemed almost pitying. Caesar took her remark in stride.

"Me too." He gave her an encouraging smile, before changing the subject. "Anyways, something I've been meaning to ask you since I first saw your Reaping."

Maze knew exactly what he was going to ask. She had an answer prepared.

"During your Reaping, you yelled the words — and I quote — 'Eff you, Cortana, I hope your curling iron breaks'."

She nodded. "Yep. I said that."

"What was the context behind that?" Caesar asked. "It sounded so damning! It almost made me run home and make sure my curling iron wasn't broken."

The crowd laughed.

Maze jumped right into her response.

"Well, you know the girl next to me in my Reaping video that was pointing at me? That's Cortana," she explained to the audience. "She and I live in the same room in the community home. I made her a curling iron, and she repaid me by pointing me out to the Peacekeepers. Very rude of her. So I got angry at her and yelled that."

Maze hoped Cortana was watching her interview back in District 3 and seething. Served her right.

"Community home?" Caesar asked. "Did I hear that right?"

Maze nodded. "Yes."

"Are you an orphan?"

Caesar did not beat around the bush. In a strange way, Maze appreciated the bluntness. She nodded again.

"Yes. No family. No friends, either." She tried to salvage the melancholy turn her interview was starting to take. "Until I got here. I'm very popular here, it seems."

She laughed in an attempt to get the audience to laugh. A few indulged her.

"You sure are, Miss Donahue," Caesar said. "You've intrigued many people, including me. Who would you say has been your favorite person since you got here?"

"My mentor, Beetee," Maze blurted out. He was the first person to come to mind.

Caesar nodded. "Beetee. Great guy, isn't he?"

"Yes, absolutely."

The screen cut to Beetee in the mentors' section. He smiled approvingly, causing Maze herself to smile.

"Circling back to what you said earlier, you said you made Cortana a curling iron?" Caesar asked.

Maze nodded again. "Yes."

"That's so cool!" Caesar gushed. "Are you good with electronics? I mean, I assume you're better than the average person, since you're from District 3."

Maze decided to brag a bit. "I'm pretty good at them, I'd say."

She pointed to Caesar's microphone. "I could probably disassemble and then reassemble that right here if I wanted to. But I won't."

The crowd laughed again, as did Caesar.

"I have no doubt that you could. Anyways, one last question since we're almost out of time: if you win the 57th Hunger Games, what will you do?"

Any witty responses that Maze had died on her tongue. She went silent, the smile dropping from her face.

Truthfully, she hadn't thought that far. She didn't expect to win — not at all. She couldn't even imagine herself winning.

The entire City Circle had gone silent, everyone eagerly awaiting her response.

"I…I don't know," Maze finally responded after several seconds. She decided to be honest. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

Caesar was silent, encouraging her to go on.

"It's not like I have anyone back in District 3 to go home to," Maze elaborated. "Or anyone who would be particularly excited to see me win."

She bit her lip. "In fact, the community home director told me she hopes I die."

Take that, Mrs. Tapp! Now all of Panem knows you suck!

The audience let out several sympathetic gasps at Maze's statement.

Caesar, for once, was speechless. "…oh. Well, that's not very nice of her."

Maze shook her head. "So, to answer your question, I don't know. I'd probably just do nothing."

Caesar recovered and returned to his upbeat self. "A valid answer! I hear doing nothing can be very meditative and relaxing."

At that moment, a buzzing sound went off, indicating that Maze's three minutes were up.

"Well, that's all the time we have left!" Caesar exclaimed, standing up and holding out his hand. Maze stood up and took his hand, and he shook it, putting his other hand on Maze's shoulder and posing with her. Maze smiled and hoped it didn't look too forced. "Nice to meet you, Maze, and best of luck in the Hunger Games!"

"Thank you, you too," Maze automatically replied, before realizing her mistake. "Um, I mean—"

Caesar just gave a hearty laugh. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one more time for Maze Donahue!"

The crowd applauded for her once more. Maze continued smiling and posing with Caesar for one more moment, before making her way back to her seat.

She collapsed back into it and pondered her performance.

She followed Beetee's advice and was herself the entire interview. However, she wasn't sure herself was entirely palatable. She made them laugh a few times, yes. That felt good to do. On the other hand, she also made them be awkwardly silent for several seconds. Plus, the faux pas with Caesar at the end. The Capitol audience probably didn't know what to think of her. And was she memorable enough? Maze didn't know.

She slouched into her chair as Caesar introduced Alt to the crowd. The audience had far less enthusiasm for him.

During his interview, Alt was polite and friendly, but plain. He didn't stand out in any way to the Capitol audience, and it showed in their polite but muted applause.

From his interview, Maze learned that Alt was from South City, and that he had a mother, father, older brother, younger sister, and — most surprising of all — a girlfriend. He shouted out his girlfriend by name, making a heart with his hands.

Maze couldn't help but feel twin pangs of jealousy and pity towards him. He had so many people back in District 3 who loved him and that he had a reason to go back to. People he would not be returning to. They'd be mourning their son, brother, and boyfriend within a few days, most likely. District 3 tributes seldom lasted long in the arena.

When Maze died, no one would mourn her.

All positive emotions drained out of her at this realization, leaving behind a hollow. She shivered despite the warm night air, wrapped her arms around herself, and tried not to think of it further.

The girl from District 4 that Alt had almost shot during training came off as formidable and fierce during her interview. Maze made a mental note to not cross her in the arena. She seemed like the type to kill you if you just looked at her. The boy from District 4 was just as scary.

The tributes from 5 and 6 were unremarkable. The younger tributes were so scared they didn't say much, no matter how much Caesar tried to engage them.

Willow from 7's outfit was gorgeous. Her stylist had continued the fairy motif from the chariot parade, giving her a cape that resembled butterfly wings, as well as a green silk dress adorned with flowers. An actual tiara made of gold sat upon her braided orange hair, encrusted with emeralds.

Caesar began her interview by asking about what happened at her Reaping. Willow told him and the audience the same thing that she had told Maze during training: that the girl was her sister Rowan, who would be turning nine that fall.

"I promised her I'd do my best to win," Willow said, clenching her fist. "And that's what I'm going to try and do. Even if I fail — just know that I tried my best, Rowan."

The next thing Caesar asked her about was her training score of seven.

"You scored a seven! Just like your district! Out of curiosity, how did you manage such a good score?"

"I got it through memorization," Willow responded. "I memorized all the edible and poisonous plants. Every single one. I told the Gamemakers all about them. They were impressed."

"I'm impressed, too!" Caesar exclaimed. "That's a lot of plants to memorize! How did you do it? Is there a trick to it or is it a naturally occurring ability?"

"A natural-occurring ability, I think," Willow answered. "My family and I work in papermaking and printing. I read a lot of books as a result. The ones that have printing errors or are bound incorrectly that don't make it to the Capitol. I'm able to memorize a lot of what I read in those books. I don't really try or anything."

"Any particular books you like reading?" Caesar asked.

Willow smiled. "Well, I've always been fond of fairytales."

"Fairytales? Who doesn't love a good fairytale?" Caesar exclaimed. "I for sure love a good one. Any particular favorite, Miss McCullough?"

"Call me a hopeless romantic, but I've always loved the tale of Sleeping Beauty," Willow replied, a dreamy cadence taking over her. "I especially love that there's two versions of it. After the princess pricks her finger on the evil fairy's poisoned spindle and falls into eternal slumber, in one version, the prince she fell in love with kisses her, and because it's true love's kiss, she awakens. In another version, the good fairies who raised her kiss her forehead and awaken her with true love's kiss, but a different kind than the prince's. I adore both versions because it shows just how powerful love can be, especially non-romantic love. Love is a powerful thing, and I think it can conquer many things — even death itself."

If I were a princess put into enchanted slumber and only true love's kiss could save me, I would stay asleep for all of eternity since no one even remotely loves me, Maze thought sardonically.

Sorb's outfit continued the theme of fairytales. He was dressed a lot like a prince from those storybooks, with a dark blue jacket embroidered with gold thread, a golden belt with a shiny silver buckle, and black pants. He even had a golden tiara that matched Willow's.

Even his responses to Caesar's questions were prince-like. He was polite and friendly, similar to Alt, but with much more charisma. He worked the stage and crowd like the District 1 girl and District 2 boy. The crowd reacted to and clung to his every word. It was easy to see how he got so popular back in District 7 — he had a presence that drew you in.

When Caesar eventually asked him about the strong response he got from his peers during his Reaping, he blushed.

"While I'm grateful that they had such a strong reaction to me getting Reaped, I'm not quite sure I deserved that response any more than anyone else." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Like Willow. We're from the same village, and she was in the same class as I in school. All the people that were chanting my name — or crying — they also knew Willow. Why didn't they have the same reaction to her? What makes me so special that I get that reaction, but Willow doesn't?"

Very chivalrous. A true prince.

Or at least that's the act he chose for his interview.

Maze snuck a glance at Willow. Willow's cheeks had turned a similar shade to her hair.

"I assumed they were your friends," Caesar replied, tilting his head in confusion. "Are they not?"

"Some of them were." Sorb shrugged. "No idea who most of them were."

Maze smirked. Sorb had some guts, calling out his fake friends on national television.

Perhaps he wasn't so prince-like after all.

The rest of the interviews all blended together. None of the tributes from Districts 8 through 11 were very personable, and Maze neither remembered nor cared much about them.

Finally, District 12 was up. Camilee Roebuck walked onstage for her interview, looking around with a pleasant, closed-mouth smile. This was the first time Maze had seen her smile.

Her black hair was braided and pinned up in a more elaborate version of her usual bun. Her signature streak of red dangled down, framing her face. Black eyeliner angulated her eyes, making her gray irises stand out like twin moons. She wore a satin dress in a muted red shade, almost pink, with black trim. A matching cape sat around her shoulders, tied with a black ribbon bow.

Maze leaned forward in her seat, not wanting to miss a detail of Camilee's interview. Maybe something in it would give a hint as to why she watched Maze so much.

Caesar introduced her to halfhearted applause, and the two sat down.

"So, Miss Roebuck," Caesar began, fidgeting with the microphone in his hand. "I think we should start by addressing the elephant in the room: your hair. I wasn't aware District 12 even had hair dye!"

"We don't have the same hair dye that you do," Camilee answered. Her voice was light and airy, with the twangy accent typical of a District 12 citizen. "I made the dye myself with things from nature. I bleached my hair with vinegar and lemon juice, and then I dyed it with a mixture I made from the fruit of the sumac plant."

"Isn't nature wonderful?" Caesar commented. "It looks great!"

Camilee beamed. "Thank you! I wanted to dye my whole head, but my ma and pa wouldn't let me."

The crowd laughed.

So Camilee Roebuck had a sense of humor. From what Maze had seen of her, she didn't seem like she had one.

"A common plight of teenagers everywhere, it seems," Caesar replied, after giving a few laughs. "From District 12 to the Capitol. I know my father was upset when I dyed my hair for the first time as a teenager."

The audience laughed again at Caesar's remarks. Camilee also chuckled, crossing her legs and putting her hands on her knee. Her black boots pointed out from under her dress' skirt.

"So, you mentioned your ma and pa? Do you have any other siblings or family members?" Caesar asked.

Camilee shook her head. "No, no siblings. It's just me, Ma, Pa, and my aunt Milly."

"Tell us more about them."

"Well, my pa's a coal miner," Camilee began. "When he's not a coal miner, though, he's a wood carver. He carves beautiful things out of wood. He makes sculptures and chairs and musical instruments and things like that."

"He sounds very talented."

"He is. He even taught me how to wood carve. And so I'm real handy with a knife." Camilee made an arcing movement with her right wrist, mimicking someone slashing something with a knife.

"Is that what you showed the Gamemakers to get a seven in training?" Caesar asked.

Camilee nodded. "Sure is! They must think I'm formidable."

"I think you're formidable, Miss Roebuck," Caesar said.

Camilee beamed again. "Why thank you, Mister Flickerman!"

"Please, call me Caesar."

Camilee was obviously trying to show that she was threatening, with her knife skills, but she was just squinted. She didn't entirely buy the whole nice, funny girl act. It weirded her out. She would have preferred it if Camilee had come to the stage acting all badass and tough than whatever this was.

How could someone so sweet on stage be so menacing? Where were these smiles and manners during training?

"What about your ma?" Caesar asked. "Does she do anything special?"

Camilee's eyes lit up. "She sure does! She and my aunt Milly both fix things that break in District 12."

She started listing things off on her fingers. "Broken radio? They can fix it! Burst pipe? They can fix it! Broken heart? Eh, maybe not. But they can try!"

Cue more laughter from the audience.

"They tried to teach me how to fix things, but I don't think I have the right brain for it," Camilee continued. "If I hadn't been Reaped, I would have ended up becoming a coal miner like my pa. But that's alright. As long as I have a member of my family with me, I'd be happy anywhere."

"Having a supportive family makes a world of difference," Caesar commented.

"That it does, Caesar." Camilee flashed him a smile. "You have no idea."

"Is there anything you'd like to say to your family back home in District 12?"

"Well," Camilee paused, a pensive look on her face. "There's a lot I'd like to say to them. I will tell them this, though."

She looked directly at the cameras. "Ma, Pa, Aunt Milly — I love you three, and I miss you greatly, and I'm sure you're missing me greatly. I'll do my best in the Games, and…I promise I'll do the right thing."

Camilee blew kisses to the camera. "I love you three and I wish I could see you again."

The crowd responded with a sounding 'aww'.

"I'm sure they love and wish to see you again too," Caesar remarked, placing his hand on his chest.

Camilee's eyes glimmered under the stage lights. "I know they do, Caesar."

The rest of Camilee's interview did not yield any further information about Camilee. She and Caesar talked some about the different dishes she had tried during her time at the Capitol, and then her buzzer sounded. There was markedly more applause for the end of her interview than her beginning. Her sense of humor and admiration of her family must have captured people's attention.

As her applause died down and she turned to return to her seat, Camilee's eyes caught Maze's. Gray stared into blue for a few seconds.

And then, Camilee smiled at her.

It was her friendly smile, the same saccharine smile she had given Caesar and the cameras.

Maze didn't smile back. Several emotions immobilized her, namely shock at being smiled at, panic at being smiled at by someone who potentially wants to kill her, and anger. Maze sat through her entire interview and still had no idea why this girl was so obsessed with her. This not knowing pissed her off to no end.

What is your deal, Camilee? Why won't you leave me alone? What do you want from me?

The boy from District 12 had his interview, then Caesar said some closing remarks. The audience applauded them one more time before the stage plunged into near darkness.

After that, all the tributes were ushered backstage. A minute or two later, stylists, escorts, and mentors flooded the area, looking for their respective tributes, lingering, and chatting. Maze stood by a wall and waited for someone to come find her.

Beetee was the first to find her.

"I did what you told me," Maze said as he walked up to her. "I was myself. But I think I was myself too much."

"You did fine," Beetee reassured her. He gave her a gentle smile. "Great job."

"But I made it sad. When I told them I was an orphan and when I told them I had nothing to return to."

"But you were being yourself when you said those things, right?" Beetee asked, voice softening. "And they were the truth, no?"

Maze wordlessly nodded.

"Sometimes the Capitol likes sad stories and angles. They like to pity people. Plus, you were funny for most of the interview. And based on how I saw the audience reacting to you, they liked you. They cheered louder for you than they did Alt."

"I guess they did," Maze mumbled. "I don't want pity, though."

Beetee stared at her for several seconds with an expression Maze couldn't read before speaking. "Maybe you don't want pity. But pity can earn you sponsors."

"And sponsors could save my ass in the arena," Maze added, voice still glum.

"Correct."

The rest of the District 3 entourage approached them at that moment. Troy had his usual scowl on his face, although less severe. Alt stared off into space, a glum expression on his face. Philomena and Harmonia were both cheery as could be.

"You did amazing, Maze!" Philomena complimented her. "Everyone was talking about you!"

"Did the community home director really tell you she hoped you died?" Harmonia asked.

Maze nodded, and she scoffed, putting a hand on her hip. "What a bitch!"

Philomena glared at Harmonia. "Language! She's thirteen!"

Harmonia gave her a side-eye. "So? She's going to be watching a bunch of the kids we just saw be slaughtered tomorrow morning. I think she can handle a bit of swearing."

"She just swore herself right before you got here," Beetee added.

Philomena rolled her eyes. "Not helpful, Beetee."

"See?" Harmonia asked, raising her eyebrows and putting her other hand on her hip. "She can handle it. It's not like you don't swear, Philly."

Philomena just rolled her eyes again and pursed her lips.

The District 3 entourage made their way back up to their floor in the training tower, where the usual feast awaited them.

Maze dug right in as soon as she sat down. She hadn't eaten anything since brunch, and being styled, interviewed, and sitting through the other interviews had made her work up an appetite. For a good twenty minutes, she thought of nothing but the delicious food entering her mouth.

It wasn't until she was halfway through some of the best dessert she'd ever eaten — decadent chocolate cake — that it hit her that this could be her last dinner ever.

The thought almost made her stomach invert.

Setting her fork down, she snuck a glance at Alt across the table. He hadn't eaten a thing, focusing on tearing the single piece of bread on his plate into gradually smaller and smaller pieces. His face had the same pallor it had during the Reaping, and his eyelids drooped — not in a fatigued way, but in something that resembled resignation. Like he had given up before the Games even started.

Maze didn't blame him a single bit for doing so.