Hunger Games 1. Chapter 1

I look at myself in the mirror, its edges cracked and yellow from age. Tall, awkward and scared. That's what I see in my reflection. I rub my eyes and still see the same thing. You would think that after six years of this, and this year being my last, I wouldn't look like this, but surprises have happened before. Feeling scared was totally appropriate.

My mother knocks on my door and when I turn to look at her, she's smiling. She must be one of the few, if not the only person to be smiling on this day. She comes up to me, smoothing my shirt collar and my hair, after which she says, "There's my handsome boy."

"Mom, I'm eighteen. You don't have to keep doing that."

"I know, but you are my son, and I expect you to look your best." I shouldn't have been surprised. She is a seamstress after all. "Now, let's finish lunch and be on our way. Wouldn't want to be late."

On the kitchen table is bowl of vegetable soup and a freshly toasted loaf of bread from the bakery next door. We actually have a lot of nice food kept away, but she's saving them for dinner, after everything's over. We eat in silence, as we always have for the past six years, mentally preparing ourselves for what was about to happen at 2.

Once lunch's over, as my mom does some last minute adjustments, I glance around the place one more time. It had become a force of habit after I realized that it might be the last time I ever saw it. Mentally, I say goodbye to the place I've lived in forever. I don't have to anymore after today... if I'm lucky.

We head out the door and as if on clockwork, Cole and his little sister Leigh are there at the bottom of the front steps. "You two ready?"

I nod and we walk side by side, my mom and Leigh trailing a little behind us. He has cleaned up a lot too, wearing the new clothes my mother gave to him as a birthday gift a few months back. His black hair's combed back, too neat for him but he still did every year. He hated looking like that, said it made him too "stiff". Guess he'll be glad that it's our last year.

"How many times is your name in today?" He turns to ask.

"Ten. You?"

"Twenty-seven. Guess the odds aren't really in my favour." He sighs. "But I shouldn't complain. There're kids with almost forty names in the bowl. Twenty seven is nothing compared to that."

He's right. People in our district barely have enough food to get by, not to mention those in the Seam. Signing up for tesserae was the only way to save yourself from starvation. I was lucky. I only had to put my name in three extra times when my father died and we had to close the shop for a few months. When Cole's parents died, we tried to help him, but it wasn't enough. Even if he helped out at his aunt's store in the Hob, he still had to sign up for tesserae a few times every year. It also didn't help that he refused for Leigh to have her name in the bowl any more times than necessary, even in the winter, when everything was harsh. He would have been much worse of if my mother didn't insist on helping them.

Before we know it, we are near the square. Almost everyone is already there, taking their places in front of the Justice Building. There's only the sound of feet shuffling and crunching gravel. It isn't really a big question as to why no one's talking.

My mother gives us a gentle smile, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. "Good luck out there you three. I'll see you afterwards. We can celebrate with a good dinner tonight."

I squeeze her hand before Cole and I head to the eighteen year old section. He gives Leigh a quick hug, telling her something about not being scared. She smiles a little before joining the others in the fourteen year old group.

We don't have to wait very long before our district's escort, Ophelia Sterling, struts onto stage with her platinum white curls bouncing off her shoulders. Her sparkly silver dress looks so tight that it looked like she would burst. And her heels that are at least 5 inches... how she can walk in them I will never know.

"Welcome, everyone, to the twentieth Hunger Games," her high-pitched voice, laced with the Capitol accent that nobody could stand, fills the square as she spoke into the microphone, "and may the odds be ever in your favour."

Unlike the career districts, where the crowds cheer and clap, we stay silent, looking almost bored even. It's the same every year, and every year, I watch Ophelia look so awkward and deflated at the lack of response and each time is just as amusing as the last one.

"Well then," she sighs but forces her too black lips into a smile. "Ladies first." She walks to the bowl filled with slips of girls' names. She reaches in, moves her hand about for a few seconds and pulls out one slip.

She unfolds it and reads, "Harper Paige."

I hear Cole release a sigh of relief. I do too. Thank god it's not Leigh. I look over to the movement in the sixteen-year-olds to see a girl a good head shorter than me walk towards the stage. Her ponytail swings behind her as she takes the steps. As she takes her place I can clearly see her expression and it isn't one of fear. In fact, she actually looks pissed off.

"And now, the gentleman." Ophelia reaches into the boys' bowl and pulls out a slip of paper.

This is it. After this, it will be all over. I don't have to deal with this anymore. I don't have to wake up scared any longer.

She unfolds the paper and reads out the name.

"Aiden Decker."

The words bounce around my head but they don't register. It's only when Cole looks at me with shock that I actually realise what happened.

That's my name.

I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't do anything. It has to be wrong. It can't possibly be happening. Not to me. Not now.

I'm shaken out of it when Cole pushes me onto the path that leads to the stage. "Go." He says it sternly, but all I can see in his eyes are pain.

All eyes are on me now. I force myself to walk. My heart is beating so violently that I feel like I'm having a heart attack. I'm on the verge on a panic attack, I can just feel it.

By some miracle, I make it to the stage. I stand next to Ophelia, and as she says, "Let's give a warm round of applause to our tributes!" I see my mother, shaking and close to tears. I have to force myself to not cry. The last thing I need is for people to think of me as weak.

After yet another round of silence, peacekeepers usher us into rooms. I'm shoved into a plush couch and the door slams behind them.

My hands are shaking. I still breathe in short gasps. My heart is racing, trying to break out of my chest. This can't be happening. It can't.

The door creaks open and my mom walks through. She immediately pulls me into a hug. I don't cry, but I allow one sob to escape.

She pats the back of my head. "Oh sweetie..." The pain in her voice is heart-wrenching. She pulls back and looks right into my eyes.

"Aiden, listen to me okay?" I nod and she continues. "Whatever happens, be yourself. Don't change in there. Just be your old usual self, you got it?

"Work with your mentor and escort. Sure you might not like them, but they know better than you. And make some allies, you'll never know when you might need them. I recommend Harper. She's been to the shop a few times. She's seems nice enough.

"And lastly, I know you don't want to kill anybody, but if you're in a situation where someone is a threat to your life, you fight back. Your survival above all else okay? Just don't kill someone because you feel like it. You are not a killer; you are just fighting for your survival."

I nod, but when I look up at her, I can't help but say, "Mom... I scared."

"I know you are honey, and that's okay. It's a natural human response to feel scared. Everybody's scared at one point or another in their lives. But you need to know this," she squeezes my hand tight in hers. "Being scared doesn't get you anywhere. You can't let fear stop you and keep you running away. You just have to learn to turn around, take a deep breath and face whatever's in your way. You can be scared, but you have to brave too."

"Oh I almost forgot." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of cloth about the length of my forearm. "Here's your token."

Only when she puts it in front of me do I realise what it is. It's from the first piece of fabric my dad ever sold from the shop. He kept it in memory of that, and we keep it in memory of him.

"Mom, I can't take this." I push it back towards her. "It's one of the few things we have left of him."

"I know, but he would want you to have it." She ties it around my wrist, using her slender fingers to tuck the loose ends away. As she does so, I look at her. Her bun coming loose, a hint of grey hair falling behind her ears. The wrinkles on her face, appearing too early for someone her age. Her pale beige dress, the entire thing hand sewn herself. She's been so strong for far too long. Being the only family she has left, I can't lose. Not after all she's done.

She takes my hands in hers again. "Aiden, I want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll be supporting you. Whether you make it to the final three of get killed at the bloodbath, I'm there for you. And don't forget... I love you."

"I love you too." I pull her into another hug. I don't want to let go, but it isn't very long later that a peacekeeper comes in to tell us that time is up.

She doesn't say anything. She just presses a kiss to my forehead and then, she's gone.

Two groups come in after her, the first of who are my friends from school who all give me hugs and small pieces of advice. The second group consists of the shopkeepers who were good friends with my dad. They too give my advice and some things from their stores, a few cookies here and a handful of sweets there.

Cole's the last visit I have, and when he enters, he heads straight towards me and hugs me. I'm a little taken aback, because he has never been the emotional one, but I don't hold that against him and hug him back.

When we move apart, the first thing he says is, "I'm so sorry for pushing you back there. You weren't moving and I had to do something before-"

"I know." If I took too long to go up the stage, the peacekeepers would have dragged me there, which would have been a hell of a lot more embarrassing. "Thanks."

He flashes a faint smile before sighing, running his long fingers through his hair. "I can't believe this. You had ten slips out of the thousands."

"Guess the odds weren't exactly in my favour." I shrug. There have been twelve year olds with their name in once being reaped. The odds have never been in anyone's favour.

"I thought you would be freaking out by now. Leigh's already crying her eyes out because of this."

"Where is she?" I ask, wondering why she didn't join him.

"She's with your mom." He pauses before continuing, "They're really going to miss you."

"I'll miss them too." I turn to him and smile. "I'll miss you too, you know."

"Well, I'm not going to miss you," He smirks. "How can I when you're gonna be on the TV every night?"

There he is. The real Cole. The one who can always crack a joke under any circumstance. He's the bright, funny light in this depressing, godforsaken district. And even though he's a pain in the ass sometimes, he is my best friend and I would really miss him.

"Joking aside..." he shifted in his seat, leaning closer towards me. "When you're in there, trust your instinct. Your intuition is the best I know, so you follow it. I don't care who tells you what, but if you feel that it isn't right, you do not go through with it, you hear me? And please, try to get a good score for training. 12 doesn't need any more failures or bare passes."

I nod. There he goes again, trying to act like my protector. I was weaker and used to get injured a lot when I was younger, and he was always there to help me. Since then, I had become stronger and more careful, and even though I've told him a million times that he didn't need to keep looking out for me, he still did it anyway. He had my back, and I his. It's been that way for eleven years.

After that, we sit in silence. We know that time's running out, but we don't say anything. Just being there with each other was enough.

A long, quiet minute later, he says, "Aiden... can I tell you something?"

"Sure." I'm not sure what else he has to add, but I sit up and listen.

He takes a deep breath before he starts. "I just wanted to say that I... I..." He sighs in frustration, shaking his head. I want to ask, but before I can, he gives an obviously fake smile. "I just want to say... good luck."

He's lying. After years of being friends, I know when he's lying, and this is one of those times. He clearly has something else to say, but he chose not to. I want to know what it is but... he must have a reason, so I decide not to question him. "Thanks." is all I say. "Take care of mom for me."

"After all your family's done for us, how could I not?"

The peacekeeper comes in seconds later to escort him out. Before he leaves, he gives me another hug, tighter and longer this time. "Be careful out there."

"I will," I say as I let go of him. He flashes me one last smile, a real one, and then he exits the room. I barely have enough time to even feel anything before I'm whisked out of the room and into a car.

Paige and I are sitting at the sides, with Ophelia squeezed between us. The entire time, she just keeps talking and talking, I drown it out the best I can. I turn to see how Paige's holding up and like I expected, she's not crying. In fact, she has a look of resolve on her face. For a Seam girl, she's much braver than her past counterparts. She may even be tougher than me.

The minute we reach the train station, we are pulled out of the car and shoved through the crowd. When the three of us are firmly on the train, the doors shut and the train begins picking up speed.

Both Harper and I rush to the windows, watching our district, our home, disappear into the distance.

At that moment, I think: This may be the last time I ever see 12 again. Or my mom. Or Cole. Or anyone else in my life.

And somehow, that's more terrifying than anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Once District 12 has completely left my field of vision, I push myself away from the window. This is it. This is really happening.

As I turn back around, I take in what has to be the living room of the train. There's a plush sofa and a few couches centred around a flat screen television. At the end closest to us is a bar, stock full of alcohol. On the far end's the dining room, the table full of finger foods. Not only that, but the floor is perfectly lacquered wood. I'm finally introduced to the Capitol life.

Ophelia's still standing there, waiting with her obnoxious smile. "If you two are done, let me show you to your rooms."

She leads us down this long lavish hallway and as we walk, I can only think about how steady the train is. The people in District 6 must have worked really hard on it.

"Harper this will be your room, and Aiden, that will be yours." She gestures to a door a little further down. "I'll inform you when it's time for dinner." After thanking her, I enter the room and it's just as stunning as the living room.

The entire floor is carpeted, soft under my feet. The bed's almost three times bigger than mine back home, with sheets that look incredibly smooth. I can't help but jump spread-eagle onto the bed and enjoy the cool sheets. Thank you District 8.

I decide to take a shower and head into the bathroom. Despite having taken a quick bath back in 12, the marble wall and tiled floor are so pristine that I just feel dirty compared to all of it.

The shower isn't that much better, with rows of buttons that did god knows what. After some trial and error (which involved me getting cold water splashed directly onto my head), I find the right buttons and lukewarm water pours onto me, with shampoo and soup added directly to my body. It even comes with a built in blow dryer, so I come out of the shower dry without even touching a towel.

I open the drawers and get an even bigger surprise. Every colour of the spectrum is inside in the form of shirts and pants. Not only that, but they are made from the best fabric I've ever seen, and that's coming from me, whose parents own a fabric store. They would definitely be excited if they were here.

I change into a white top and navy pants, not that much different from what I wore earlier. I pick up my token from where I dumped my old clothes and tie it back around my wrist. It's the colour of coal, but it's almost as smooth as silk.

I still remember my dad telling me the story of how he sold it. He had just taken over the business from his father and it was on his third day of the job that someone finally came in to actually buy something. It was the Mayor's wife, who bought some cloth to make clothes for her son. It was the most expensive one in the store, and my dad swore that it was his lucky charm, because once that fabric was sold, there hadn't been a day without a sale since.

It's been 5 years since he died. The last memory I have of him is one where he's lying on his bed, in his last few hours of life, looking pale with sunken cheeks, but still with a smile on his face. That was how he and my mom were perfect for each other. Somehow they could both smile in our dull district.

I try to be like that, to stay so optimistic, but I just can't. Not when there's so much pain and suffering and the goddamn hunger games in my life. There are better days when I do smile, but I can't keep it for long. I smile, but most of the time, I don't mean it. Some days it doesn't even seem like I'm related to my parents.

If there was anyone else I couldn't understand, it was Cole. He too was a smiler, albeit not as much as my parents. He has it much worse than me, with both parents dead and a younger sister to take care of, but there he is, smiling and joking. I don't know how he does it, but when I'm with him, I can't help but smile too. It's contagious, I know it. Even Leigh's smiling a bit too much for my comfort.

Thinking of them now brings a stab of pain to my heart. I miss them so much, and it's only been an hour. Who knows what I'm going to feel when I'm in the arena.

I sit down by the window, watching the world rush past in a blur. Right now, all I see is the wilderness, but I know that in a few more minutes, I'll be able to see the vast fields of District 11. Nowadays, this is the closest people get to the other districts. Ever since the Dark Days, travelling between districts is restricted to important officials only. Before, anyone could visit the other district (with the right documents of course), but now, I guess the Capitol wants as little contact between them as possible, what with all the killing of each other's children and all.

I remember my dad telling me stories of what it was before the Dark Days, of how his own father would bring him to the districts and all the friends he made. According to him, my great-grandfather was from 8. He moved to 12 to expand trade, so that's how they started the business and also how my family's the only one in 12 that has green irises with gold flecks in the centre.

I take a look at myself in the mirror next to me. My eyes are a deeper green than my father's, with a slight grey tinge to them from my mother. I've always been told that I'm a perfect combination of them both, but my mom insists that I'm the splitting image of my dad. I have his height as well as his build, not to mention his thick head of hair, but my face is nearly the same as my mom's, with a defined jawline and sharp nose. Both of them were kind and friendly people, willing to help people in need. They understood more things than others did, and that was passed on to me. I was less sociable and more introverted than them, but the deep understanding of the people and things around us was the same.

When my dad caught that virus, he couldn't lose it. And despite having his health deteriorate every day for a whole year, he still remained his old caring self. And when he died, it was like a light had gone out. My mom was devasted, but she remained strong, taking over the business while raising me. That's why I can't lose. I can't leave her. Not after all that she's done.

I must have spent more time in deep thought than I realised because it isn't very long later that I hear Ophelia knocking on my door. I make my way to the dining room to find out that I'm the first one there. I take a seat, unsure of what to do while I wait. My stomach grumbles at the smell wafting from the kitchen. I didn't even realise that I was hungry.

Minutes later, Harper comes along, wearing a pastel blue blouse with tailored pants. She takes a seat across from me and there's a silence. It's awkward because we don't know each other but my mom did say that she would make a good ally, so I take the initiative.

"You look nice." I have no idea what she'll make of that, but judging by her expression, she's taken aback. By the fact that I spoke first or that I'm complimenting her, I'll never know.

"Thanks. You don't look too shabby yourself." She smirks and I think that's the closest I'll get to a smile from her. For now at least, it's a good start.

There's the sound of clacking heels and Ophelia's here, wearing a frilly gold dress with equally poofy hair. "Nice to see that you two are punctual," she says when she sees the two of us. "Now, I'll like you to meet your mentor."

District 12 is the only one that hasn't had a victor, so our mentor has to be from another district. He doesn't even have to enter the room for me to know who he is. Mason Spiers. The victor of the 13th Hunger Games from District 2. He was originally the mentor of his own district but since they got another winner a couple years later; he was asked - or more like forced - to help us.

He's a big guy, with muscles that put anyone else's to shame. He has the classic District 2 look of stone grey eyes with strong sharp features. He won when he was 16, by killing most of the other tributes with a sword that he got from the Cornucopia. The fight that made him victor got him a huge scar on his right calf, which he famously tattooed over with a picture of a sword.

I look at him now, taking a seat next to Harper. He's as huge as on television, but not as menacing, now that he's wearing a plain white shirt and pants. Compared to last year, his collection of tattoos has gotten bigger, with an almost complete sleeve on his right arm. He gives me a look over and I immediately feel self-conscious. I'm not scrawny, neither am I weak, but compared to him, I might as well be. I'm just glad that I have a substantial amount of meat on my bones. The previous years' male tributes from 12 have mostly been from the Seam, and they were all bags of bones.

I don't show him my nervousness. "Hey," I try to say in my most disinterested voice.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and then looks at Harper, who only acknowledges him with a nod. "Nice to meet you too," he says sarcastically. If he kept that sarcasm up, I might just end up liking him.

The food arrives shortly after and I can barely keep myself from drooling. Green soup dotted with white foam, a plate of what seems like edible flowers drizzled with honey, grilled meat stacked on a bed of potatoes. I can't help but say, "Oh my God." Harper has the same expression as me, eyes wide in disbelief. Back in 12, it was impossible to get the ingredients they have here, much less afford it.

"Well, don't be shy. Dig in," Ophelia smiles to us. I fight the urge to just stuff my face because I don't want them to think that I'm uncivilised. So I eat, taking as much as I can. Harper does too, but from the speed at which she's eating, I can tell that she's starving. She's not as thin as most people are from the Seam, but thin enough to know that she has had days with too little food in her system. I'm fortunate enough to come from a merchant family, and even though it was tough, we still managed to put some food on the table.

I eat till I'm bursting, and even then I still stuff myself with the rainbow cake they prepared. My lips are stained with cake and I can see Mason judging me from the corner of my eye, but I don't care; it's good food.

As the dishes are cleared, we head into the living room to watch the recap of the Reapings. I don't say anything, but I'm terrified. The last thing I need is to see my competition, because if I want win, they all have to die, including Harper, who's next to me on the sofa right now. I don't want to have anyone's blood on my hands. I don't think I could live with the guilt.

A lady with big turquoise hair and a man who has obviously had one too many facelifts appear on screen. Like any other year, they welcome us to the first day of the Games. "This year, we have an exciting line up of tributes. Let's take a look, shall we?"

The feed then cuts to clips of the reapings in the districts. Like always, the tributes from 1, 2 and 4 look the strongest and cockiest, being Careers and all. It's not really fair, considering that they are trained to fight even though it's illegal. Competing in the games has become an honour for them, so much so that people willingly volunteer to be tributes. Because of this, most of the victors are careers, especially 2, who has 3 of the 19 victors, one of which is sitting right next to me.

As the clips continue playing, I see tributes crying, terrified, and shaking in their pants. There are also those who look confident, calm and composed. It's an interesting thing to see those from the weaker districts look act like that, to remain so strong even when they barely have a chance.

Then there is District 12, the Justice Building looking so dull and gloomy compared to the others. When Ophelia calls out Harper's name, the camera pans to her face and for a brief moment, fear flashes on her face before it's replaced by a scowl, the same one that she has on right now. I don't know why she keeps doing that. She's pretty, and if she just smiles, even a little, I think she would be stunning.

I hear my name called. I turn back just in time to see Cole push me out of the crowd. The camera's on me now, showing my every expression. It's weird to see myself on the television, to know that my face is now known to the entire country. I'm scared, but I hide it well. My face is void of emotion but the way my chest is heaving shows just how hard I'm trying to not hyperventilate.

They cut directly to when the two of us are finally on stage, and right before they end the clip, my expression has changed into a death glare, and at the very last second, I stare straight into the camera. I had no idea that I did that, and now that I see myself, looking so deadly, I feel a sudden sense of terror. The Games are already changing me.

When the reporters return on screen, Mason turns to us and says, "At least you two didn't cry. The pair last year was so annoying with all their tears and sobbing." The previous tributes were both from the Seam, a twelve year old girl and a thirteen year old boy who had been friends since young.

I take it back. Maybe Mason wasn't such a great guy after all.

"Well this definitely looks like it's gonna be an exciting Games," smiles the female reporter, "Tune in tomorrow for the opening ceremony!"

The recaps end, returning to some weird Capitol programme. Mason looks to us and says, "Now, I want you two to get a good night sleep. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Harper says as she rolls her eyes and I can't help but smile. He glares at us, but doesn't say anything. We quickly leave and once we're out of earshot, she says, "What a dick!"

She's right. I know my mom said to trust him, but how can I when he acts like that? He's not even that much older than me; there's just a three year difference and already he acts like he's some big shot. Given that he is a District 2 victor, but he could at least pretend like he cares.

After we say our goodnights to each other, Harper and I retire to our separate rooms. I strip down to my boxers and crawl under the covers, hoping that I'm so unconsciously tired that the minute my head hits the pillow, I'll be sound asleep, but no such luck.

Instead, I stare straight up at the ceiling and all of I can think of is what's happening back home in 12. My mom must have prepared the food saved, sparing no effort in making a great meal, despite having her only son taken away to fight for his survival. Cole and Leigh were surely there, having a full meal. It would be just like normal. Except that I wouldn't be there. The atmosphere would be all wrong, too deadly quiet. No laughing, no chatter, nothing.

I can just imagine it. They would have probably watched the recaps over dinner, no one talking the entire time. Once dinner was over, Cole would leave right afterwards, not staying behind like he normally would. He would be pulling a red eyed Leigh behind him, thanking my mom, who would have just nodded in response.

Right now, they would all be in their cold beds, while I'm lying comfortably in this soft bed. But at least they're safe. Me on the other hand, I'm on my way to death. Oh the irony.

An hour of tossing and turning later, I finally start to drift off. As I do, I imagine that the train's not taking me to the Capitol, but back to 12. Back to my home, back to family, back to my friends. That's all I want, but am I prepared to do whatever it takes?

I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to be a murderer. I don't want anyone's blood on my hands. I've never been a fighter, Cole was, and I was the one who liked to talk things through. So how the hell was I supposed to use a weapon, much less kill someone?

But if I wanted to go home, I guess I would just have to learn.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up with a start to loud knocking on my door and by the sound of the heels click-clacking on the floor that follows after, it has to be Ophelia.

I head to the bathroom and in the mirror, I see myself, hair in a mess but looking much better than I was yesterday. A full night's sleep in a Capitol bed has done me a world of help.

After a quick wash-up, I lean forward on the counter, staring right at myself. This is it. The day I reach the Capitol. It's gonna be a whole new world compared to 12, and there's going to be a lot of crazy people there, so I have to be prepared.

I decide to wear the clothes from last night and to comb through my hair with just my fingers because when I get to the Capitol, I'm going to be made so clean and so neat that I won't even recognize myself anyway. So I better embrace my messy side while I still can.

I get to the dining room to find Harper already there, her plate full of food. On the table itself there're plates of breakfast foods, more than I've ever seen before.

As I take a seat, I say, "Morning."

"Morning," she replies, looking up from her plate. "You have to try this. I have no idea what it is but it tastes incredible!"

On her plate is a stack of at least three pancakes, drizzled with thick syrup. It definitely looks delicious. "You've never tried pancakes before?"

"I think I did once when I was really young, but I forgot how great they taste." She stuffs a huge slice into her mouth. "You have to try some. They are so good."

I fill my plate with food and take a bite of the pancakes. It seems to melt in my mouth, and the buttery, soft explosion is amazing. My mom made some really nice ones before, but they are nothing compared to the ones in front of me.

As the two of us continued devouring our breakfast, Mason enters and out of courtesy I greet him. "Morning."

He stares at me for a second before he sits down, only giving me a nod. I give Harper a look that says, "Wow, this guy's rude." The look she responds with is an "I told you so."

Mason fills his plate, eyeing both of ours. "You two seem well rested... and well awake. Good, because I need to know a few things."

He takes a long sip of coffee before saying, "Now, I need to know what your strengths and weaknesses are, if you have any in the first place."

"Well, we do have one strength," Harper says between bites, "We'll never complain about having no food because we've been through all types of hunger before."

Mason just glares at her. "You think this a funny? This is your life on the line. The last thing you should be doing is to joke about it. Now, any weapons, survival skills, anything?"

Harper's muttering under her breath, so I answer him. "Nothing. We don't start working until we're 19, and there isn't really a need to learn anything else."

"Yeah, and unlike some districts, we don't grow up being trained to use swords to kill people." Harper looks pointedly at Mason.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning. "You two seriously have no skills?"

Harper speaks up again. "Hey, don't blame us, it's not fault that our district doesn't need us to learn anything until we're too old."

He sighs. "I've mentored your district for 5 years; I don't know what I expected. Every year it's always the same, pathetic tributes who don't know anything."

"What did you just call us?" That's all it took for the two of them to start shouting each other. This was so frustrating. How are we supposed to get anything done if they keep this up? It needs to stop right now.

"Shut up!" I shout, effectively stopping them. "Stop it the two of you! Why the hell are you arguing? It's no use if you two keep shouting at each other."

I turn to Harper. "Look, I know that you think he's a jerk, I do too, but he is our mentor. He's won this thing once, so he's gonna know a thing or two about helping us survive in there. So can you at least try to tolerate and listen to him?"

She glares at me, then at Mason, then back to me. Finally, she rolls her eyes and says with as little enthusiasm as possible, "Fine."

Then I move on to Mason. "Yes, you're a victor, and you're from District 2, but that doesn't mean you can look down on us. You were a tribute once, and if I remember correctly, you weren't the easiest to work with. You're our mentor; it's your job to help us. So will you please stop acting like a complete asshole and teach us something?"

He stares at me with what I think is disbelief. Probably because I'm the first one to ever shout at him like that. I know that he's pissed, but I hold my ground. I did nothing wrong, and he knows it.

"Okay, fine." He holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of having tributes that don't have any worthy skills. I want them to win, but I can't make that happen if they don't know anything."

I take a sip of my juice before I say, "We might not have any skills, but who knows, we might be fast learners, or have natural talent maybe? We're not that useless." I gesture towards Harper. "Take her for example. She's fast."

She turns to me, an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I've seen you run. You are crazy fast. And quiet too. You have no idea how many times you've scared me by appearing without a sound."

Mason must be interested because he starts leaning closer, paying more attention, which is good. He needs to know what we can do.

"What about you?" Harper turns to him, pointing her fork at me. "He's strong."

My expression must have been one of doubt because the next thing she says is, "Please, I've seen you carrying those huge bundles of fabrics. You're careful and sharp too. Don't think I don't know that you help your mom with the clothes sometimes."

I have nothing to say to that. It's all true so I can't lie. It's just so weird to hear all those things about me.

"Not bad," Mason says, smiling for the first time since I've met him, "Maybe you two aren't as hopeless as I thought."

I roll my eyes. Old habits really do die hard.

The smile disappears from his face, total seriousness replacing it. "Now listen up, we reach in the Capitol in less than fifteen minutes and the once you get off the train, you'll be dragged off to be prepared for the opening ceremony. You're going to meet your stylists and as crazy as they are, you do what they say, because tonight is going to be the first time the people officially meet you and they know how to make sure that you give them a great first impression. I know they're from the Capitol, but they are nice people. Trust me; I've known them for 5 years."

The opening ceremonies: my least favourite part of the pre-games. Why? Because we're going to be dressed up in stupid clothes, just to be put on show for the Capitol. Not only that, but because the costumes are supposed to reflect the district's industry, 12's costumes have always been the ugliest. It's always coal miners' uniforms or some weird variation of that. How were we supposed to give anybody an amazing first impression if we looked like that?

As I think, Ophelia enters the room. "I heard shouting. Is everything alright here?"

Mason waves it off. "It's nothing. Just a little argument. Aiden here helped us stop it."

She gives me a nod of approval. So I'm in their good books. That should help me right?

The train car suddenly goes dark. We must be going through the tunnels that take us to the Capitol. The most of I've seen of it is through pictures in my textbooks and from a few clips of the Games. This will be the first time I'm seeing for real, and from what I've seen, I expect it to be breath-taking.

The train exits the tunnel and when I look through the window, I'm not disappointed.

The Capitol is full of tall skyscrapers, their glass windows reflecting the clear blue sky. There are rows upon rows of colourful houses and shops, with cobblestone roads lining the pavement in front of them. It is beyond anything I've expected.

As the train slowly pulls into the station, I can't help but move to the window. I know that Capitol people are weird, but now that I see them up close, weird feels like an understatement. Those in the station waving to us are dressed so brightly that it actually hurts my eyes. Their hair, makeup and surgery-changed bodies are equal parts crazy and creepy. They look so genuinely happy to see us, but I know that it's only because we're the fresh batch of tributes. The thought disgusts me, but I don't do anything about it. I shoot a fake smile at them and they scream even louder. Those sick bastards.

When the train comes to a complete stop, Ophelia rushes us to the door, which opens seconds after we get there. A flash from a camera almost blinds me, and before I can even regain my sight, I'm pushed through a throng of brightly coloured people, with questions and screams in my ears. I can't even hear myself think when I'm forced into a car with Harper.

The windows are completely dark, so I have no idea where we're going. After half hour, we stop and are again pushed out of the car, into an elevator. We don't even have to push any buttons and we're going up. I have barely enough time to catch my breath before the doors open and a group of three pull me out.

I feel as if I'm being kidnapped, but I know that this is standard procedure. I'm in a chair, with three who must be my prep team, busying themselves around me. As they prepare to scrub me down and clean me up, I pick up on their names.

Lorenza, the only female of the group, has an electric blue pixie cut with rows of piercings on her ears and her eyebrow. She has her hands in my hair when she says, "You're hair is so soft! Damien, you to have to feel this."

Damien, who is preparing a cream on one of the counters, turns around. His magenta hair is striking against his pale skin, as well as his cheeks bones which are too sharp to possibly be real. "You poor ones are always the luckiest, aren't you?"

Before I can comment on how insensitive that was, the last member of my prep team pops his head out from behind a partition. "Stop playing with the poor boy's hair and let him take his bath."

"Fine," Lorenza huffs, rolling her eyes. "Alexander is always such a spoil sport. He takes the fun out of everything."

Alexander, with his moss green crew cut and beige contacts, is visibly the oldest of the three. He brings into a room with a large tub in the middle. "Just soak in there for 10 minutes and I'll come get you."

All I can see is bubbles but when I step in, the smell of grapes invades my nose. And as I rest my head against the back of the tub, I try my best to relax my body, letting the warm water loosen my tense muscles. I really need to learn how to appreciate what possibly could be the last days of my life.

Just as I'm about to nod off, Alexander comes back in, ordering me out and back into the prep room. Once there, I'm put through some many procedures I lose count. My hair is washed and trimmed, my body is scrubbed till it's pink and raw, whatever facial hair I had (or didn't had) is shaved off and cream is applied to ensure that it doesn't grow back. It's torture, but I can just imagine how much worse it must be for Harper.

After one last look over, they decide that I'm finally ready to meet my stylist. I sit by myself in the cold room, wondering what god ugly costume we have to put on. If it's another miner uniform, I'm going to just accept my humiliation right here.

The doors open and my stylist steps in, reaching a hand out. "Hi, I'm Aglaia. You must be Aiden. I hope the team didn't scare you."

I shake her hand, smiling. "They were... okay. A few problems with invading my personal space, but that's all. "

She gives a breathy laugh. "Ah well, that can't be helped. Let's sit and discuss your outfit."

Aglaia, compared to every other Capitol person I've seen, looks normal, or less normal depending on where you're looking from. She has waist-long hair the colour of caramel with streaks of gold. She has minimal makeup on, just a dash of pink on her eyelids and dark red lips. The most striking thing about her though, is her irises, which somehow change colour every time she blinks. When I first saw her, they were violet, and now, they are peach.

"Now, as you know, your opening ceremony outfits are supposed to reflect your district's industry, so this year-"

"It's gonna be coal miner costumes again isn't it?"

"Yes and no. My partner and I have decided that yes, you mine coal, but that doesn't mean you can't look good doing it." She brings out a garment bag, unzipping it. "I hope you aren't afraid of some nudity."

I have no idea why she asks that until she makes me change into the costume. The pants are like any other miner's pants, long and baggy, but mine were tapered at the ankles. As for the shirt… I don't even have one. No wonder she asked... I'm going to be shirtless. This is going to be way worse than a miner outfit.

When I stepped out of the changing room, oddly enough I don't feel as self-conscious as I would have thought, even with Aglaia looking at me from all angles. I'm well fed, so I'm not scrawny, which must be a change from what she is used to.

"Perfect!" She claps her hands together, smiling. "Now, if you could just close your eyes for just a sec..."

I do as she says and feel some sort of fine powder being blown onto my skin. I have to resist the urge to open my eyes to see what it is. A few seconds later, she's done. I open my eyes to see myself covered in a thin layer black powder.

"It's synthetic coal dust." She wipes off some excess from my cheek, leaving just enough to make me look like I actually mined coal. "Let's go meet the others."

We leave the prep room to meet Harper and her stylist. She's wearing the exact thing I am, except that she has on a grey tank top and a deep scowl on her face that I can't help but smile at.

She sees me smiling and the scowl only gets bigger. "Don't you dare say anything."

It's clear how much she hates it. I don't blame her. There's nothing fun about being dressed up and covered with fake coal. But the thing is, she doesn't look that bad. She's thin, but she fills out her costume perfectly. It's also better than being in a shirt and baggy pants.

We take the elevator down to the stables. Most of the other tributes are already there and as we walk towards our chariot, many of them give us looks, varying from smug to pitiful to judging. I observe them as well. The Careers are much bigger up close and their costumes are much nicer considering they're from districts with the more glamorous industries. The others don't look that much different, but some have much worse costumes than us, like 8, whose outfits are literally various fabrics sewn together.

Mason is waiting for us by our coal black chariot and horses. Before we get on, he instructs us, "Stand tall and chest out. Don't forget to smile. I'm talking to you Harper."

"Why should I be smiling when all they want is to see me dead?" She's right. Why should we when they're betting on our lives?

"They might want you dead, but some want you alive and they will be your sponsors only if you show them you're worth it."

Exasperated, she says, "Fine." Thank God, because the last thing we need is more conflict.

Loud music blasts throughout the stables, letting us know it's time. We take our places on the chariot and the doors open, the sound of cheers and screams reaching our ears. By the time it's our turn, the crowd is deafening, going crazy at the sight of us.

I give them a smile and a wave, making them go even crazier. I turn to see Harper doing the same thing. I know that it's killing her inside, but I'm proud of her for doing so.

The chariots come to stop. I look up to see the newly elected president, Coriolanus Snow, with his greying hair and altered face, glancing at all of us. He motions for the crowd to quiet down. As he stares down at us, he starts the usual welcoming speech. "Welcome everyone to the twentieth Hunger Games. We salute our tributes for their bravery and sacrifice. To them, I wish a happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

As the chariots start heading back to the stables, I think about how much I hated that line. 'May the odds be ever in your favour.' It sounds as if we all have equal odds, but of course we don't. The odds have never been in the poorer districts' favour, much less anyone in districts at all. It gives everyone a false sense of hope and it's horrible.

Everyone's waiting for us back inside, so when we get down, we're bombarded with comments. Ophelia's the first. "You two looked amazing!" This is followed by Aglaia saying, "I told you they would like it."

Mason pats both of our shoulders. "I'm proud of you. You guys did well out there."

The frown returns to Harper's face. "My face actually hurts from all that smiling."

"Don't worry. Once you're in the arena, you can keep scowling all you like." He brings us to the elevators. "Come on; time to see your home for the next week."

We pack into an elevator and Mason presses the button 12. As we slowly make our way up, Ophelia tells us, "You might be from 12, but that doesn't mean you can't live in style. You're lucky, because you get the penthouse! The view is just spectacular!"

She's not kidding, because when the doors open, we're greeted by an enormous living room with a wall made of glass, giving us an amazing look at the glowing Capitol, shining bright against the dark of the sky. I go to the window, staring down at the lights and people, listening to all the noise and festivities. For a short moment, I forget that I'm here for the Games, that I'm being sent to my death in a week, instead that I'm here just to enjoy the sights.

It doesn't last very long because I see myself on a huge screen on one of the buildings, with my name, district and the odds of me winning. Those odds snap me back to reality. They remind me that I'm here to fight in a dangerous game where I have to fight for my own survival, where I can't afford to lose. As of right now, the odds aren't in my favour.

If I'm to win, I'm gonna have to change those odds. It's not gonna be easy, but I have to try.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up to find a set of clothes on the foot of the bed. A simple cotton top with a 12 sewn onto the back along with a pair of black track pants. My training outfit. Right, today's day one of training.

I head to breakfast and the spread is even grander than the one on the train, with at least ten different plates of food. Just as I start on some eggs, Harper and Mason walk in, already deep in conversation. After we exchange greetings and everyone has food on their plate, we get down to business.

"Today's the first day of your training," Mason starts, biting into some bacon. "I want you to visit as many stations as possible, both weapons and survival. You need to pick up valuable skills, so don't waste these few precious days. My advice? Learn how to use at least three different weapons and spend the rest of the time on survival skills. Most tributes die from dehydration, hunger and exposure, not from combat."

He's right. I remember a previous Games where no food was provided at all for the tributes at the Cornucopia, forcing them to either hunt animals or gather edible plants. Almost two thirds of them died because they failed at setting traps for animals or identifying poisonous plants. The victor was a small girl from 11 who survived by hiding in the forest and eating safe berries and leaves. By the time they brought her out, the poor thing was starved to a point she could barely stand.

Thinking about it now, that was the last thing I wanted.

"One more thing," Mason continues. "Try and socialise. You're gonna need allies and this is the only time you'll have to actually interact with the other tributes before heading into the arena."

Harper almost flipped her plate. "Are you serious? I..." She turns to me, pausing for a moment before going back to him. "_We_ don't need allies. Not when they're going to end up as our competition."

"I know, but having allies, even for a little while, can be a great advantage. Allies can teach you something new, have useful skills or could possibly get you of danger."

"Or they could stab you in the back, betray you and kill you," she says pointedly. "And this is really ironic, coming from you."

Mason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just... talk to somebody, will you?"

Ophelia arrives minutes later to bring us down to the training centre. We're just on time, but we're the last ones there. It isn't very long later that they open the doors and release us. Almost all the careers run immediately to the weapon stations, with the rest stumbling behind, deciding to avoid the Careers and choosing empty stations.

I look to Harper. "We should split up. Cover more ground."

She nods. "I'll take weaponry, you take survival. We'll switch after lunch."

While she heads to the hand-to-hand combat station, I walk over to the closest one, which happens to be for trap-setting. There's no one there, so the instructor is surprised when I visit. I can already tell this station rarely gets visited by how enthusiastic he is. He starts of by teaching me a basic trap, one that if done right can be reused to catch multiple animals.

I seem to be a natural at it, because we move on to the intermediate ones after a while and I set them up fast and without a hitch. He smiles at me with pride and lets me try the hardest traps, the kind meant to be used on people.

As I finish up on a trap that can leave a person hanging a few feet above the ground, a voice behind me says, "How do you do that?"

I turn around, only to meet the slate grey eyes of the male tribute from 2. He's a good half-a-head taller than me, with a stocky build that can only come from years of training. He's staring at the trap I just finished, a look of wonderment on his face.

It takes me a moment to react. What's a Career, especially one from 2, doing at a survival station? "Umm... it's actually really easy."

"Let me try." He sits down beside me, starting on his own trap. He gets about halfway through when he messes up, at which he huffs in frustration and starts again. I watch him do it multiple times and before I can get more frustrated, I stop him. "Here, watch me. Just do it carefully, there's no need to rush."

Minutes later, he's done and although it's messy, it's a usable trap. He grins at me, visibly proud of his work. "Thanks. I'm Devin, by the way. District 2."

"I'm Aiden. 12." I'm not too sure about talking to this guy. He's a career for God's sake, he's trained to kill. Why the hell is he here setting traps when the rest of them are at the other end of the hall, fighting each other? And why the hell is he talking to me?

"Hey, in return, I could give you some sword lessons if you like." He gives me smile and I can't tell if he's being genuine or not. For all I know, this could just be tactic to get me to trust him.

I hesitate. "I'll think about it." I thank the instructor and head towards the next station. "I'll see you around."

I move quickly from station to station, trying to pick up as much as I can. Shelter building, camouflage and identifying edible plants were relatively easy, but for some reason, I just couldn't build a fire. The instructor had to go through everything so slowly that I felt like an idiot. Even the girl from 6 who was there with me laughed. _Great_. If anything, I'm going to freeze to death in the arena.

Before I know it, it's lunch time. I run up to Harper as soon as the bell rings, grabbing some food while I listen to her rant. "I tell you, that girl from 7 is a maniac. She nearly killed me!"

"While wrestling?"

"She almost ripped my arm off!"

"So you want me to stay away from her?"

"No! She's good competition." The smile that she has on her face is creeping me out, but I don't say anything. "Anyway, how about you? Meet any potential allies?"

"Well, I did talk to the guy from 2..."

She almost spits out her drink. "2? No. No way."

"Why?"

"Don't you remember what happens every year?"

Then I recall. For all the past games, at least one tribute from 12 has been killed by one from district 2. It always happens, without fail. It might else well be a tradition for them.

"Right... Can't forget that."

"Exactly. So be careful okay?" Her face takes on a much gentler look, one of actual concern.

"Okay." As we eat, I observe the other tributes. The careers had pulled together a few tables and are now eating together and talking loudly. A few of the stronger tributes are with them, while the rest stick to themselves. I guess since it's the first day, people just want to remain with their own district mates. However, my gaze ends up on Devin, who's with the Careers, but keeping to himself, sitting at the end of the table. It's so weird. He's in their group but an outcast at the same time. I wonder if that has anything to do with what happened earlier.

Once lunch is over, we switch. Harper heads straight to the fire building station, while I take a minute to look at the different stations. Almost every station has someone already there, except for one: the spear station.

I pick up a spear, taking a while to get used to holding a weapon in my hand. It feels strange, to hold something with the ability to kill in the palm of my hands. The instructor explains the best stance and angle for throwing, then pulls up three stationary targets.

I miss the first target completely, and just barely miss the bullseye of the second one. So I take a deep breath, tighten my grip and throw. It flies across the station, hitting the target dead centre. I can't help but smile. I did it.

Seeing how quickly I was learning, the instructor starts increasing the difficulty. Just like trap setting, spear throwing becomes very natural for me. There are few targets I miss, but eventually, I hit them all with equal accuracy and power. It's rare that I actually feel so powerful, but as I throw the spears, I can feel all that strength rushing through me.

As I wait for the last set of targets to be set up, a sudden wave of terror runs through me. That feeling of power, of strength, that's why people kill. To get that rush, to feel superior. What if that happens to me? What if the need for such a feeling overwhelms me and I kill without mercy?

The thought of becoming a killer is so horrible that I don't even hear the instructor tell me to start. I can't even throw straight, hitting the target but missing the bullseye every time. I quickly thank the instructor and leave. I can't stay here any longer.

I look around, trying to figure out where I should go next. I would go to hand-to-hand combat, but the tributes from 1 are there and the last thing I want is for them is tear me to pieces before the Games even start. At the sword station, I see both tributes from 2, but only the girl, I think her name's Bernadette, training with the instructor. Devin is by the rack of swords, looking over them. I know I should be careful, that I shouldn't trust a Career, but I still find myself walking over to him. "I wouldn't mind taking up that offer of a free lesson now."

He looks at me with surprise, probably because I wasn't that nice to him earlier, but it doesn't last very long. He passes me a sword, longer than my entire arm and polished so perfectly I can see my reflection. "Okay then."

For the next hour he teaches me everything there is to know, with the instructor giving a few pointers along the way. Halfway through, Bernadette joins us. She's Harper's age, but definitely better built with a much scarier aura around her, if that's even possible. The look on her face as she watches me is one pure arrogance and disgust, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus on my sword and its movements. It's slightly heavier than the spear, but it's much easier to control it.

When I ask Devin if he wants to duel, he agrees, but Bernadette steps in front of him. "Let me." And by the look on her face, she's looks about ready to kill me, but I accept the challenge anyway. Might as well take a chance to fight a Career before the having to face one for real in the arena.

We square off, waiting for the other one to move. It's tense, but I don't want to attack first. Fortunately, she strikes first and I just barely block it, the blade close to cutting me. We go back and forth, but I'm tiring too soon. I'm not used to this kind of physical exertion, unlike Bernadette, who has barely broken a sweat.

But as we fight, I realise she has a tell. Right before she does a false swing, she adjusts her grip, grabbing the sword tighter. So I look out for it, making sure it isn't just a coincidence.

Then I see it. She readjusts her grip, pretending to strike at me from the right, but changes it to the left at the last second. I dive back in time for the blade to swing just inches from my face, close enough for me to feel it blow past.

I stumble back, heart racing in my chest. This is terrifying. I'm sure it's showing on my face because she's starting to look very smug. That look... I need to wipe it off.

After a while, I see her change her grip again, but this time, I'm prepared. She slashes towards the right again and just as she turns to the left, I take the opportunity to duck and kick her legs out. She falls, but not before I grab her sword out of her hand. She quickly gets back onto her feet, but I'm there, with one sword pointed at her neck, the other pressed right against the back of it.

She's surprised and angry, obvious by the death glare she's giving me. I really want to cherish the moment, but I feel like she's going to kill me if I wait a second longer. So I move the swords and hand hers back to her, but she shoves my hand away and storms off, swearing under her breath.

Devin comes up to me, clapping. "Not bad 12, not bad at all. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something to take care off." He chases after Bernadette, trying to comfort her. It isn't every day that someone from 12 defeats a Career, not to mention one from District 2, so it's clear why she so mad. Me on the other hand, I'm hopeful. I might actually stand a chance. I might not die within the first few minutes of the Games, or even at the hands of a Career. It's a small relief, but I cherish it.

As I move on to other stations, I walk past the camouflage station where Harper's at. We pass each other without a word, but the smile on her face is enough to tell me just how proud she is that I fought a Career and won. I smile back. I'm just as happy as she is. We've proven ourselves.

Several hours later the bell to signal the end of training rings. I meet up with Harper, whose arms are smudged with paint, and we head back up to the apartment, discussing the entire time about what we've learnt.

After a quick shower, we meet again at dinner, where Mason is already waiting for us. "So let me get this straight. This morning, you told me that you didn't want allies, yet now I have districts asking for each of you. What the hell happened?"

"Really?" Harper asks, looking at me. "Who?"

"7 asked for you." He turns to me, looking impressed. "And you... you must have done something good because somehow, 2 wants you."

What? I know it can't be Bernadette, so it has to be Devin who asked for me. Did I really impress him that much? What I did was purely luck and good timing; I'm sure they could do it with their eyes closed. So why the hell would he want me?

"Anyway, I'm sure you still don't want them right?" He sees Harper nod and sighs. "Okay then. Moving on... you wanted me to give you a day to find out what you're good at. It's been a day, want to update me on what you're good at?"

"Knives and fire!" Harper does that creepy grin she did earlier. It's a terrifying combination actually, she with sharp objects and a flame, but it suits her. Scary weapons for a scary girl.

I see Mason waiting for me to answer. "Spears... and traps." I'm still surprised at how natural I was at learning them, but now that I think about it, it's clear why. Growing up, I used to spend some of my free time helping my parents with the clothes, sewing precise stitches and handling delicate fabrics. I was always told to be careful with the cloth, so that must have translated into my ability to set those intricate traps. As for the spears, when my dad died, I took care of all the heavy lifting. Most of the time, I had to hold at least two bundles of cloth using each arm. Naturally I developed good arm strength. Throwing spears is just a way I can utilise that strength.

"Good, good. Not bad for a pair of tributes who barely knew anything before this." Mason nods, looking pleased. "Now for tomorrow, I want you to socialise even more. Try to work with as many tributes as you can. If you haven't visited all the stations, do it. If you have, go back to those you're not good at. You'll need the training, trust me."

I can tell by the look on Harper's face that she hates the first half of the plan. I understand why she doesn't want any of the tributes to be her allies, especially the Careers, but what about me? I know I'm her district partner, but she does know that if one of us is to win, the other has to die right? That's why I never understood why anyone wanted allies in the first place. Eventually, they're going to end up splitting up and possibly killing each other. Why bother making such connections when you know there can only be one survivor?

Take Mason for example. Being a career, he joined the others right when the Games started, hunting tributes down like a pack. Even though they seemed to enjoy being in a group, it was clear that Mason didn't trust anyone of them, even his own district partner.

When only eight tributes were left, he sneaked out of their camp with whatever supplies he could steal, going the rest of the Games by himself. Slowly, he killed off the remaining tributes, including his own allies. He was ruthless, but he did have a moment where he was wasn't. He found his district partner, Griselda if I remember, fatally wounded, the life bleeding out of her. Instead of just walking away, he stayed beside her, clutching her hand until the cannon sounded. I can still recall my mother tearing up at that scene. I guess district bonds are still stronger than distrust.

That's another reason I didn't really want an ally. If they die, I don't think I could stand it, even if the alliance's over. Unlike how I would act, Mason just carried on, right up to the end, where he stabbed his opponent in the chest and became victor.

I look at him now, the victor of the 16th Hunger Games, the second victor from District 2. I still don't understand why he wants us to have allies. If he didn't trust his. What makes him think we can trust ours?

Ophelia enters at that moment, bubbling with excitement. "Guess what! I've been going around and I might have secured you some sponsors!"

"Thank you, Ophelia," I say.

"It's no trouble." She beams at me for actually responding. "Now you two, they said that they will only sponsor you if you can prove to them that you're worth it. You need to show them it's not a waste to bet on 12."

She's right. 12 has always been belittled, but I need to prove them wrong. I want to show them we're not hopeless, nor are we weak.

And I'm not going to stop until I do.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This my first author's note, so I would just like to say hello and welcome! Thanks to all you readers and the few of you who have reviewed. Reviews are really what keep me going with this story. I know this part's gonna be a bit long, seeing how similar the process is to the book, but I promise you it's gonna be different once we get to the arena. For now, enjoy this chapter, and remember to relax, read and review! **

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The next two and a half days pass relatively quickly. Harper and I do as Mason says, going around to talk to the other tributes. I did most of the talking, mainly due to the constant pissed off look Harper had throughout the day that made the others tributes scared, but once we got to work, everything became much simpler.

We trained with every tribute at least once. We went through the edible plant station with Rosalie and Fallow from 11, who were much better at it than we were. Harper helped me, as well as Akilah and Cillian from 3, at the fire building station, teaching us the proper way to start a fireIn return, taught her rope tying, with Ariel and Dover from 4 giving us some tips, especially on how to tie a noose. At first we were hesitant of them, seeing how they were Careers and all, but they were nice enough to teach us some tricks. Harper even introduced me to the girl from 7, Xylia, who gave us a lesson on axes. These were the ones we deemed would be good allies.

Then there were those we didn't. We did more spear training with Ruby and Edric from 1, but by the constant silence it was clear none of us wanted to work together. We trained with the other tributes too, but they either too scared or too weak that we kicked them off the list of potential allies.

When we weren't training with other tributes, Harper and I trained with each other. We taught each other new skills, as well as learned new ones together. Harper is definitely better than me, with all that she taught me; I never underestimated her, but damn, did she surprise me, especially when we were doing hand-to-hand combat.

I had moved first, charging right at her. She dodged my knife, but just barely. She threw a punch, grazing past my shoulder. After a lot of back and forth, I managed to get behind her, holding her arms against her back.

Just when I thought I won, she kicked my legs out from under me. I fell to the ground and she pinned me down, pointing the knife at my neck. I didn't even need to look to know that she had a triumphant smile on her face. She was that natural at it.

We trained and practiced non-stop until it was time to show off what we had learnt. Right as we started on our breakfasts that morning, Mason said, "Today is an important day because you're going to have to show not only the Gamemakers, but also any potential sponsors how good you are. You need to show them you're going to make it far in the Games, that you're not going to die right away at the initial bloodbath. So, I need you two to show them what you're best at. That's your safest bet in getting a good score. With how you're doing so far, I would say to aim for at least a seven. I know it isn't that great of a score, but it if you do get it, you'll be doing much better than the previous years."

Now, we're sitting in a room with the rest, waiting for our turn to show the Gamemakers what we've learnt over the past three and a half days, after which we will all get our scores tonight. A little over thirty minutes has passed and sixteen tributes were left before me.

"This sucks." Harper sighs, looking over at me. "By the time it's our turn, they'll be so bored. They would have seen twenty-two others show off before they get to us."

It's unfortunate and infuriating, how District 12 is always slated to go last. As if we're not bad enough in the skills department, the Gamemakers don't even bother paying attention to us when we actually try to show them our skills after almost 2 hours. It's unfair, how the Careers get the advantage in this part of the Games too.

"Do you know what you're going to do?" I ask her, watching as the next tribute enters the hall.

"I don't know, something with knives I guess." She's clearly nervous, despite what she's told me. She biting her nails, the constant tapping of her foot reaching my ears. "But it's not even going to matter if they don't freaking look at me."

Harper is skilled. She deserves a high score for it. She, or for that matter the both of us, shouldn't be facing a bunch of people who couldn't care less. We've already sacrificed so much, we deserve at least some attention from the people who will determine what we face in the arena.

"I'm going to wake them up," I say.

"What?"

"I'm going to wake them up," I repeat myself more assertively. "I'm going to show them that we're that we're more than just coal miners from a small little district at the edge of the country, that we are worth their time."

"How are you going to do that?" She's interested, a small smile growing on her face.

"I'm not sure yet," I answer truthfully. "But whatever it is, it's going to end with a bang."

The minutes tick by, tribute after tribute going into the hall, and before I know it, I hear my name being called. Just as I stand, Harper says, "Good luck in there."

"You too." I give her one last smile, then I enter.

It is eerily empty, save for the Gamemakers sitting in a small room overlooking the entire hall. Most of them are just talking to each other over glasses of wine and plates of food. I think I can even see one taking a nap in his chair.

I want to shout at him, at all of them for not caring, but all I do is clear my throat loud enough for some of them to turn to me. "Please begin," one of them says to me in the most uninterested tone before going back to his conversation.

I immediately start going through all the things I've learnt in my head. Mason did say to show them our best skills, which for me would be spears and trap setting, but how the hell could I combine them to do something that would really surprise them?

Then I remember something. The instructor had taught me how to create a trap that could explosively release debris, be it leaves or stones, if stepped on, confusing or potential hurting the victim. As I listened to him, I thought about how, if one had the right materials, the trap could become an actual bomb of sorts. That's when I recall the coal powder they had at the fire-starting station. Harper had told me that they used the highly reactive kind, the kind that could easily catch fire if there was the tiniest bit of heat or friction, even explode if there was too much of the powder. It was the kind that was the most dangerous down in the mines back in 12, the one that could cause a disaster if the miners weren't careful.

I run and grab the entire bowl of coal powder, along with bits of flint. I pour all of it into the trap, setting it in the centre of the hall, careful not to set it off. Then I grab a practice dummy, one that was already full of holes and scrapes. It wouldn't be missed. Good, because after I'm done with it, there would be none of it left.

I grab a length of rope and start tying it around the dummy's waist, making sure that it's tight. I swing the remainder of the rope around a hook in the ceiling and pull, pulling until the dummy hung right above the trap.

I can sense my time's running out, so I tie the rope securely around a pillar and run to grab a spear. As I get into position, I can see some the Gamemakers starting to pay attention, wondering what the hell I'm up to. They don't have to wonder for long, because I'm about to show them.

I stand back at a safe distance away from the trap. I pick up the spear, aiming it right at the rope. I take a deep breath, steadying my aim. I only have one shot at this. I can't mess it up. I breathe out, and let the spear fly.

It slices right through the rope. The dummy falls. For a second, I panic and think that I may have gotten the trap all wrong and it's not going to work, but then the dummy lands squarely on the trap and before I can even blink, it explodes into a thousand pieces.

I duck just in time to avoid any flying debris, but my ears are still ringing with the sound of the explosion. I get back up, only to see bits and pieces of the dummy scattered everywhere, with the centre of the hall completely charred black. The Gamemakers are all watching the scene, and by the wine stains on their clothes, I can tell that they were surprised. Even the one that was napping is awake now, clutching his chest in shock. My plan worked. I woke them up.

I don't want them to see how pleased I am at how well my plan worked out. I take a step forward. "Thank you for your time." I turn around and head to the elevator, but I can't stop the smile that reaches my lips.

Once I reach the 12th floor, I head straight to my room and into the shower. I watch as the black powder washes off my hands, swirling down into the drain. Was that enough? Was whatever I just did enough to prove to the Gamemakers that I deserve a good score? What about Harper? What has she done? After my little stunt, I'm sure they're awake enough, so I'm at least a little relieved that I've helped her get the attention she deserves.

I walk out feeling much fresher. I switch on the television, only to see Capitol commentators talk about the scores that are going to be revealed later. They show the scores of the past 19 games, with the Careers having consistently high scores from the very beginning. The other districts have had low to mid-range scores with a few spikes every now and then, which mostly coincide with the years they won. District 12 has only ever had one high scorer, a 9, in the very first ever Games. I don't know much about it, but I know the tribute who got it had fought during the Dark Days, survived it only to be reaped. He was a strong competitor, even getting into an alliance with the Careers, but it ended with his death on the 5th day at the hands of his supposed "allies".

The commentators then go through each of the previous victors and their scores. After a few, Mason finally appears on the screen, with a big 10 beside him. It wasn't the first time District 2 had gotten a 10, but it was the highest score of that year, proving once again that a higher score meant a higher chance at being victor.

At dinner time, I head to the dining room to find an enormous spread of food on the table, but before I can even grab my plate, Harper walks in. "Okay, what the hell did you do?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know." She sits down across from me. "I hear an explosion and I walk into the hall to see coal powder and burn marks everywhere. The Gamemakers were standing around whispering to each other. So what exactly did you do?"

"Like I said, I did something to wake them up."

She looks like she wants to question me further, but she doesn't. She starts to fill her plate with food, and as I do the same, she says, "Whatever it is… thank you. For making sure they were paying attention."

All I do is give her a smile, hoping it tells her enough. It must, because she smiles back.

As we dig in, I hear Mason's voice from behind me. "I don't know what you did, but the Gamemakers came to talk to me today, and they have never wanted to me about a tribute ever."

"What did they ask you?"

"All they said was they needed to repaint the training centre after what you did. And that one of them needed a medical exam because you nearly gave him a heart attack. Which I have to say is a first coming from District 12."

I can't help but laugh at the thought of having made such a big impact on them. "Let's just say that I did something… explosive."

Mason raises his eyebrow. "Well, let's hope it pays off."

Dinner is over quickly, what with all of us anxious for the results of this afternoon. We all gather in the living room, Harper and I taking the centre of the sofa, right in front of the television, with Mason, Ophelia and our stylists around us. A hush falls over the room as the programme starts, with the announcer, a man with gold hair and tattoos covering his entire neck, welcomes everyone before going down the list of tributes.

As expected, the Careers get high scores, with most of them getting a 9 and a couple of 8s. Both tributes from 2, Bernadette and Devin, get a 10. I take a quick glance over at Mason to check his reaction, but all I see is a frown. The rest of the tributes get varied scores, the lowest being a 4 for a boy from District 9. There are a few 8s, mostly from the stronger tributes we've seen, but most of them stay in the 5 to 7 range.

After the scores for District 11 are announced, I immediately sit up. This is it. Time to get my score.

I look straight at the screen. "District 12, Aiden Decker, with a score of…"

I take a deep breath, preparing myself to hear the number that could determine my fate in the arena.

"9."

Everyone starts cheering around me, but I block them out. I can't believe it. Even the announcer seems surprised at my score. I got a 9. A 9. That's the highest a tribute from District 12 has ever gotten since the first Hunger Games. I didn't think it was even possible.

Before I can even begin to process what everyone is saying to me, Mason hushes us as the announcer moves on to Harper. "District 12, Harper Paige, with a score of… 8."

Cheers erupt through the room again, but all I can hear is the sigh of relief from Harper. She smiles at me, her face full of disbelief. "We did it."

I'm still trying to wrap my head around both of our scores, so all I can do is repeat her words. "We did it."

Ophelia is beaming at us with her overly white teeth. "I'm so proud of you two! The sponsors are sure to support you!" This is probably her happiest moment in the entire time she's been the escort for 12. Our scores have created history. She'll finally have something to brag about.

Mason, on the other hand, is quiet, almost like he's thinking about something. Ophelia obviously wants him to say something, which he does. "Good job you two." I'm hoping he has more to say, but he doesn't. He just stands up and leaves.

Ophelia sighs, shaking her head. "Ignore him. He's a man of few words. You two did more than just a 'good job', you were brilliant!" She smiles again. "Now, go get some well-deserved sleep. Tomorrow's prep day for the interviews!"

After some final congratulations, we retire to our rooms for the night, but as proud as I am over tonight's results, I can't sleep. My mind keeps wandering back to District 12. What did everyone back home think about our scores? Were there cheers? Then I think of my mom, who must have surely watched everything, with Cole and Leigh beside her in the sitting room, anxiously waiting for the results just like I did. My mom would be proud of me. Cole would be over the moon with how I just created history. Leigh would be wondering how in the world I did it. Did the rest of the district feel the same?

Thinking about them now just gets me homesick again. I turn on the television to try and distract myself, but all I see are programmes after programmes talking about the scores, mine in particular. Most congratulate 12 for having such strong tributes this year, but only one catches my attention. The particular commentator says that while getting high scores guarantees us some sponsors, it also poses us as threats to the other tributes, making us greater targets.

I had never thought about that, about how the others might perceive us now. An 8 and a 9 basically puts us on the same level as the Careers. We're definitely not as dangerous, but the other tributes don't know that. We're going to appear as even bigger competition to them now, especially to the Careers and the other stronger tributes. And now I can't stop wondering if the Gamemakers gave me a 10 because of what I showed them, or to make me a target. If so, my plan to prove ourselves has horribly backfired.

With all these thoughts, there's no way that I can sleep now. I get out a bed, hoping that a good walk around the apartment will calm my nerves, but when I reach the living room, I see small figure wrapped in a blanket, sitting by the large windows overlooking the Capitol. From the long ponytail I see poking out, I already know it's Harper.

"Hey." I call out to her. "Can't sleep?"

She looks out from behind the blanket, her face set aglow by the lights from the city. "Nope."

She doesn't say it, but I take it as an invitation to join her. I sit across from her, looking across the night lights. Below us, people are still out and about, even at this time of the night. The large screen in the centre of the square is replaying the announcement of the scores, with our faces along the side. I can see that our odds have improved quite a bit since the last time, which is a relief. Harper's looking at the screen too, focussed on those numbers that determine our chances of survival.

When my face flashes onto the screen, Harper finally speaks up. "Congrats on your score."

"You too." We've both done well, beating the scores of all the previous District 12 tributes. Harper has really proven herself, with the highest score a female tribute from 12 has ever gotten. "So what exactly did you show them?"

"Like I said, knives," she says. "I lined up whatever dummies were left and rapid fired knives into them. I also made sure there were the exact number of dummies as there were Gamemakers, just to play with them a little."

There she is, the real Harper, with that rebellious spark in her. She seems to have mellowed down a little these past few days. It probably has to do with the fact that the Games are only a few days away. I don't blame her. It's starting to dawn on me as well.

Suddenly I recall a question that has been itching at the back of my mind for a couple of days now. "Hey, I always wanted to ask you this, but how did you get so good with knives?" I knew my days spent in the shop had given me the skills I needed for trap setting and using the spear, but I couldn't understand how she could be so natural at her knife skills.

She hesitates, debating whether or not to tell me. I'm about to tell her that it's okay if she didn't want to reveal anything, but she says, "Promise me you won't tell anyone about this, okay?"

I wonder what's so special that it has to remain a secret. "I promise."

"Okay," she sighs, pausing for a moment. "Back in 12, I used to steal things."

Before I can respond, she stops me. "Before you say anything, let me explain." So I keep my mouth shut, waiting to hear her story.

"Remember that mine explosion a few years back, the one that killed a lot people?" I nod. It was the one that had killed Cole's parents. It was horrible. 36 people dead, countless more injured. I can still remember the moment when his parents' bodies were brought out from the mines. He just broke down, right there and then, bursting into tears, wondering how he was going to tell Leigh. "Yeah, well, it didn't kill my parents, but it left my mom in a coma and my dad paralysed from the waist down. We got some money from the Mayor, but it wasn't enough. I even put my name in more times every month to get some tesserae, but it was never enough."

"My father, he started working at the Hob, trying to earn whatever he could. And my sister, Jodie, she was already too old for the reaping so she couldn't sign up for more tesserae like I did. She worked with my dad, doing odd jobs along the way, but even then we could barely scrape by. That first winter was the worst. We were freezing and starving, but there was nothing we could do. My dad still went to work every day, despite the cold. It was taking a toll on him, but he did it anyway. It hurt the both of us to see him like that, so Jodie did the one thing she knew that would get us enough food and money to get through the winter."

From the pained look on Harper's face, I knew what her sister did. Sold her body to whichever peacekeeper offered gifts for a warm body in the cold nights. It was a common sight, girls from the Seam knocking on the doors of peacekeepers to get whatever little food, warmth and money they could in exchange for their bodies. It was horrible, but nobody stopped it, which was even worse.

"She went to this one guy who she knew always offered a lot, especially in the winter. That night when she came back, she cried herself to sleep." She shakes her head, trying to rid that moment from her memory. "She didn't tell me where she went, but I knew. And I decided that I could never let her ever go through that again. So, that's how I started stealing."

"Of course I don't steal from people in the Seam or from the Hob; we're poor enough. I mainly stole from the merchants and the peacekeepers. It was easier in the winter, where people just have their coats lying around and there's rarely any business in the shops. I just use my knife to cut through pockets and bags, slice off some bread or cake when nobody's looking. I learned to move silently and quickly to avoid being caught. Sometimes I would throw the knives to hit something to distract people. The first few months were terrifying. I always knew that I could be caught at any moment, but I had to do it. For my sister."

"Around a year later, just as winter was starting to set in, I went into the clothing store." She turns to me. "Yup, your parents' shop. I went in, managed to grab a couple of gloves and a scarf and just as I was about to leave, your mother came out from the back room. I was so scared that I just froze, waiting for her to scream at me, report me to the peacekeepers and tell them I deserve a whipping, _something_. But she just went back into the room and walked out with a blanket, coats, some bread and money, passing it all to me. She only said to me, 'Come back if you need more.' I didn't know what to say, so all I did was thank her and ran back home."

It's as big as a surprise to me as it was to her. My mom had never told me about any of this. "I felt so guilty afterwards. I had been stealing from her, but all she did was give me those things and more for free. I tried multiple times to go back and apologise, to give the items back, but she just kept giving me things. I didn't understand. Finally, one day, before she could even do anything, I asked her why she doing all of this for me, a thief from the Seam. She just smiled, putting a warm bowl of soup in front of me. She said, "I know how tough it is for you, especially after all that's happened. You're just a teenage girl, Harper, trying to save your family, so I don't want you to resort to doing things that will get you caught. I want to help in whatever way that I can. It's what my husband would have done for you if he was still here.'"

"Then she made me promise never to steal again, that I would look for her if I ever needed anything. And I did." Harper pulls the blanket tighter around herself, as if she's back in the harsh cold of 12. "Your mother saved my family, Aiden. I owe her so much. I tried asking her so many times if I could do anything to return the favour, but she refused. One time she even gave a bunch of coats to give out at the Hob to anyone who need it."

I had always wondered why my mom had increased production that year. The number of customers hadn't increased, so there wasn't a need to make more clothes. Now I know why. My mom, in her kind-hearted, generous nature, worked hard, late into the night, just to help those less fortunate than us. She will never cease to amaze me.

"Is that why you want me as an ally?" I ask her. "To return the favour?"

"Partially," she admits. "Partially because we're from the same district and we should stick together. But mainly because I trust you. I wasn't sure at first, but especially after today, I knew. We want the same things, to prove that we're better than they think we are." She juts her head at the people and the screen below. "And we're already making progress, thanks to you. Together, we can really show them what we're made of."

I've never really thought of it that way. All that time spent thinking about the negatives, listening to Harper complain about talking to other tributes, I've never really questioned why the both of us became almost instant allies when neither of us had actually talked about it. Now, that I've actually asked, I'm glad. I want her as an ally too, for all the same reasons. I have never once felt like I couldn't trust Harper, or that I didn't like her, even with how scarily good she was at fire and knives. Within these few days, we've have managed to become friends, which is insane considering how we barely even knew each other before this. Harper's connection to my mother has only made this bond stronger.

Even though there's only one way this alliance will end if I want to return home, I intend to keep it going. We both want to show that District 12 is not to be looked down on, so what better way than to do it together.


End file.

Hunger Games, Adventure, Friendship