Hunger Games 1. Reaping

"Rille Allium."

The second that those two words left Croyale's lips, I knew that my life had changed forever.

Croyale certainly stands out from the rest of the crowd gathered today: she has spiky hair that is red at the roots, and then goes to orange and finally yellow at the tips. She gives off the rather peculiar illusion that her head is on fire.

A few minutes ago, I was daydreaming about _actually_ setting fire to the escort's head. The irony would be fantastic. But then the shiny Capitol lady read, from the slip of paper in her hands, Rille's name. At first, I was shocked. There had to be a mistake, she couldn't have chosen that paper. Rille was only entered in the bowl seven times, and there had to be thousands of slips in there.

Quickly, reality sunk in.

My sister, Rille, had been reaped. She would be going to the Hunger Games. Rille is eighteen years old, and tonight we were going to celebrate her freedom from the Capitol's clutches, since she would never be eligible for the reaping again. Unfortunately, that plan had been changed.

I heard the surrounding crowd gasping, shouting in protest. It seemed that all of District 10 was outraged by the selection, as well they should be. See, my sister is paralyzed below the waist and is confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of her life. The district is angered that she will be sent to the arena, full of brutal and remorseless killers, when she doesn't stand a chance of fighting back.

In stark contrast to the protesting crowd, I feel a scary calm wash over me. My sister isn't in danger – of course not – because she won't be going anywhere near the arena. I will.

As Rille is wheeling herself slowly to the platform, I calmly yell, "I volunteer!"

Rille turns around with widened eyes. "No! If one of us has to die, it should be me! I have nothing to live for, no chance of recovery. But you could have a great life."

I ignore her and walk forward. Croyale smiles at me and I notice her teeth are orange. I wonder why the Capitol residents spend so much money mutating themselves – her orange teeth make it hard to look at her mouth without cringing. She claps her hands together, "Wonderful! What's your name, sweetie?"

"Rienna Allium." I look into the crowd to where I know my parents are sitting. My mother is sobbing, but my father is staring forward impassively, as if his daughter had just volunteered to milk the cow. I barely pay attention to Croyale as she dances over to the boys' bowl, but when she calls the male tribute's name, I look up.

No! She couldn't have said that! Sure enough, though, she had.

"Congratulations to our District 10 tributes, Rienna Allium and Elya Morgan!"

When we were twelve, Elya had professed his love for me in front of our entire class. I had a crush on him, too, and I happily told him so.

"_Really? Well then, Rienna, will you come over here and give me a kiss?"_

_I'm in shock. I've fantasized about this moment, but I can't believe it's actually happening. So I eagerly go over to him and lean in, positive that my dreams are about to come true._

_Then, the class cracks up. "See guys? I told you she liked me. That was hilarious!"_

_He turned to me. "As if, Rienna. As if you ever had a chance."_

Since that incident, we haven't spoken again, but the memory still taunts me. And despite my best efforts, I cannot completely erase my feelings for him. I know I should be excited that I will be given the opportunity to avenge my mortification, but somehow I can't imagine a world without Elya in it. Well, hopefully someone else will kill him early on so that I don't have to try.

The Peacekeepers lead me to a room in the Justice Building, where I will see my family for probably the last time.

My mother and father come in together, and my mother speaks first. "Honey, I'm so sorry, and I'll miss you so much. But I want you to know that I'm proud of you – you did the right thing."

She breaks off, starting to cry. "Oh, I was so sure that Rille would make it this year. Her luck lasted for the last six years–"

"Marin. Stop being so emotional," says my father, speaking for the first time. "There is obviously no such thing as luck, as far as the Games are concerned. We just have to deal with this now."

It's clear to me that they both think I will die in the arena. Admittedly, it's pretty likely. District 10 hasn't had a victor in twenty-three years, when Jewel Layes won. Their certainty of my fate has destroyed the small glimmer of hope I had, rendering me sentenced to death.

My mother says she loves me and my parents exit, making way for my sister to come in.

"Rille, I love you. I'll miss you so much."

"Oh, honey!" she wails. "Why did you volunteer? It'd be better for me to die than you! I'm already halfway there. I can't even walk. The Games would have ended my misery, at least."

"Stop it. There is no way I'd let you go in that arena. I have a chance. If I win, maybe we'll be able to afford treatment for you," I tell her, to cheer her up. But even I can hear the emptiness behind my words. I wouldn't win, and we all knew it.

Halfheartedly, she says "yeah" and put something in my lap.

"What's that?"

"A necklace I made. It has your face imprinted on one side of the metal charm, and my face on the other. I was hoping you'd wear it as your token." I study the necklace. It has a simple silver chain, with a circular charm dangling from the front. In the portrait of me I'm laughing, and my blonde curly hair frames my face in a beautiful way. "I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but…" she trails off.

"Thanks, Rille. I love it. And of course I'll wear it in the arena; I'll be thinking of you every second."

With that, the Peacekeepers inform us that my time is up. They push Rille out of the room and lead me to our train, where I will spend my next hours of misery.

**AN: Let me know if you actually want me to finish this story. This is a Quarter Quell, so there will be a twist coming soon. If you have any ideas for the arena, PM me.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Train Ride

Elya and I enter the train with Croyale, without even looking at each other. I think that the escort can sense the tension, but she seems determined to continue her bubbly, cheerful personality.

She chirps, "Okay, so, take a minute to shower and change clothes. We'll be having dinner at six. Then we get to watch all the recaps!" She squeals with excitement. I hesitate and she pats me on the back. "Don't worry, honey, it'll all be okay." Something in her upbeat voice rings insincere, and I can't help but feel a rising distrust of our escort.

It's hard to like someone whose biggest problem in life is choosing which color lipstick to use.

Jewel Layes, who is both my and Elya's mentor since our district has so few winners, walks into the room. "Honey, are you okay?"

"Yes," I say stoically and stalk into my room. Why is everyone calling me "honey" today? I guess my situation must call for that kind of superficial, useless pity given by those who cannot change anything. I fume for a minute and then look for the shower. I've never taken one before, so the function of all of the knobs and buttons is lost on me. I manage to turn on a steamy jet of water from the nozzle and I stand under it, still in my underwear. Somehow, I just don't trust anybody on this train, and being naked means being vulnerable. Despite the locked door to my room, I just can't bear to strip entirely in this foreign environment.

After I get showered and dressed, it is almost time for dinner. I decide to just go ahead and be early. I get to the table and wait for a few minutes, and Elya shows up. He sits down across from me at the table. We are completely alone together.

"I'm sorry."

I glare at him. "For what?"

"For what I did to you. It was awful, I know." He actually looks legitimately apologetic. I don't relent in my gaze. "I don't want to go into these Games without you knowing the truth."

"Oh, yeah? And why not?"

"We can't both win, obviously. So that means that this is my last chance to tell you that I love you."

I roll my eyes. I can't believe we're doing this again. "Do you _honestly_ expect me to believe that? I fell for it once; I learned my lesson. It's not going to happen again." I can't believe this guy was trying to con me like that. He probably wants to get me to trust him so that he can kill me right away once the Games start. Well, it won't be that easy.

Suddenly, Croyale and Jewel come in. Croyale is bouncing excitedly. Jewel catches my eyes sternly, and says, "Alright, you two. It's time to scope out the competition. Watch each tribute carefully – their immediate reaction to hearing their name, the way they walk up to the platform, and especially their eyes. A coward can hide behind a brave face, but the truth is always in his eyes."

District 1 is shown first. Two 14-year olds are chosen at first, but they are quickly replaced by two volunteers. As soon as I see the girl, Amethyst, the word "evil" surfaces in my mind. I can't place my disquietude exactly – she seems innocent enough. She has beautiful blonde curls, and is wearing a skin-tight dress that shows off her body magnificently. She doesn't look very intelligent, but something about her eyes tells me that she can be deadly.

The District 2 volunteers are typical Careers: muscular, good-looking, and scary. The boy, Bolt, makes me cringe especially. The tributes from District 3 look scared; they both seem to be about 13 or 14 years old. Those from District 4 are indistinguishable from the District 2 tributes.

Oh, god. These Careers look vicious.

There is nobody really remarkable until the girl from 8, Ennie. She smiles when her name is called, and struts up to the platform with a smirk on her face. I remember Jewel's advice and look into her eyes. That image will haunt me forever.

She looks exactly as if she has killed before and can't wait to do it again.

All too quickly, I see my sister on the screen. I hear the crowd scream in outrage. And then I watch myself calmly strut toward the platform, and I can't believe how collected I look. I could pass for a Career. Jewel looks at me, impressed.

"Well, well. Don't you look tough?"

Croyale squeals in agreement. I'm sure she's hoping for me to win so that she can boast about having escorted a victor. Since she's stuck with District 10, she doesn't get those bragging rights often.

I return my gaze to the television. I decide that my angle for this competition will have to be confident and composed. I could almost laugh at the enormous dichotomy between how I feel now and how I looked on the screen. Oh, well. Maybe I'll get some sponsors from it.

I see Elya, who looked equally calm, and then the tributes from District 11 and 12.

Watching these recaps was almost painful for me. I saw all of these faces; beautiful, full of life. And I realized that all but one of them would be dead in just a few weeks. This was too hard for me to take in. How can that be possible? Each tribute is special, unique. If allowed to live, they could become somebody important – the possibilities are endless.

My thoughts are interrupted when President Malan comes onto the screen.

"As you all know, the tributes for the 150th Hunger Games are now selected." I look around, confused. Why is the president addressing Panem to tell us something so obvious?

He continues, "You should also all know that it is time for the sixth Quarter Quell. In previous years, the Capitol used the Quarter Quell to enter more people in the Games. For the 50th Games, 48 tributes were entered. For the 75th, previous victors were entered. This was part of an attempt to show that nobody was safe from suffering the consequences of the rebellion. This year, however, the Capitol has decided to show mercy. Instead of encouraging more murders, we will be discouraging them."

Silence. The entire country is watching, now, in confusion. Croyale looks around, "What is he–"

"Shh!" Jewel said, "Let him finish."

"This year, this new rule will affect the tributes _after _they enter the arena. The rule states that a tribute may only kill another tribute if they are of different genders. This means that male tributes may only kill females, and vice versa."

Elya speaks up, "Oh, really? And what are you going to do if we break that rule?" Strangely, he seems to be talking to the screen.

The president continues, as if he had heard Elya. "We have equipped the arena so that explosives lay beneath the ground, ready to ignite at our command. If a tribute chooses not to follow this rule, the explosives under this tribute will be set off. So, think carefully before breaking the rules. It won't end well for you."

He finishes speaking about how the Capitol is showing such mercy, and that the tributes should be worshipping their feet in gratitude. I don't see how it matters. I mean, 23 of us will still die, right? What does it matter who kills who?

"One last thing," he concludes. "If at some point, all remaining tributes are of the same gender, the rule will be repealed. If and when this happens, the tributes will not be informed."

Croyale switches the television off. "Well, then. You two had better rest up. We have a big day coming up; you'll get to meet your stylists!"

As soon as I get to my room, I sit down on my bed, thinking. What would this rule mean? Certainly more strategy would be involved now, as opposed to random acts of violence. The bloodbath would be different, since usually everyone just killed whoever they could.

I heard a knock on my door. It was Elya.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"I have an idea for you. Please let me finish before you say anything, okay?"

"I'll try."

He pauses, and appears to decide that this is enough. "I think we should be allies."

I raise my eyebrows but don't say anything.

"It could help us both. Together, we'd be able to kill any tribute that we came across. If you were alone, you couldn't kill any of the girls."

I'm inclined to distrust Elya because of our history together, but his offer sort of makes sense. And it would be nice to have someone on my side in that arena so that I don't go crazy from being alone. Plus I couldn't deny that I still had some residual feelings left for Elya.

"Seriously? Or would I just be getting a sword through the heart and an 'as if'?"

"I promise. I promise I won't let you down, Rienna."

Remembering Jewel's trick, I look in his eyes. All I can see is honesty. I must be crazy, but I believe him.

"Okay. Allies."

**AN: Thank you guys for reading this. I have some interesting plans for this new rule. Review! Are the chapters too short? I'd like to make the story better!**


	3. Chariot Ride

The next day, I wake up, after a surprisingly peaceful night. Somehow, the looming thought of my violent death didn't cause me to lose any sleep. Huh. Maybe I've accepted my death.

Since these are most likely my last days alive, I might as well make the most of them. I decide to take another wonderfully hot shower, since it felt so good yesterday. While in the shower, I think about what it would be like to be a Capitol citizen.

"_Ah, Rienna, here is your breakfast! If it's not cooked exactly to your taste, I'll just get you some more! It really is that easy," says the woman in the maid's costume._

"_Thanks. Can I have some chocolate cake, too, please?"_

"_Right away, ma'am."_

Life would be so convenient, but yet so wasteful. Which was better? Living in excess, like the Capitol people; or living in poverty, like my family and the rest of my district? If living in the Capitol meant I had to dye my skin a different color, then I'd take my life any day.

My _old_ life, I correct myself. I'm not back in District 10 anymore, most likely I'll never return. Even if I do, my life will have changed beyond recognition – I'll be a murderer.

After I leave the shower and sit down to an enormous breakfast, I look out the train window to see the Capitol zooming closer. Today I'm supposed to meet my stylist and prep team to get my costume ready for the chariot rides. Usually, the stylists for our district just dressed the tributes up as something cow-related; obviously, the Capitol thinks that 'livestock' is synonymous with 'cows'. It didn't matter much to me, anyway, since sponsors usually only paid attention to the Career tributes during the parade. The later districts were almost always ignored.

First, though, we have to endure the torture of the prep team. One of them, Sylba, is a rather eccentric woman that resembles a tree. She has extremely tan skin and green hair, and is currently in the process of tearing all of the hairs out of my legs. I'm not sure why this matters, since it will undoubtedly grow back in the time I'm in the arena.

Assuming I live through the bloodbath, that is.

After I've been groomed and washed into oblivion, Sylba appears to be content with their work.

"Oh, don't you look just beautiful! Let's go call Cleara!"

Another woman walks in, who has tattoos of eyes all over her skin. It's a rather intimidating sight. She tells me that she has talked to Elya's stylist, and they've decided on our chariot outfit already. She starts to describe it.

"You're going to be wearing the most beautiful, shimmery dress –it'll go almost down to your knees, no need to worry about modesty – and it's going to have a cow print on it."

I mentally roll my eyes. _Great._

"But, the catch is, the pattern will be done entirely in sequins. It'll be the most dazzling costume District 10 has seen in years!"

The next day, as the prep teams prepare us for the chariot rides, Cleara walks into the room bearing the dress. It really is rather pretty. They put makeup on me and twist my hair in an elaborate bun, and declare me ready.

I'm walking toward the holding area by the chariots when I see Elya; his costume makes me laugh. He's dressed like a cowboy, complete with a hat and boots, but they are all covered in black and white sequins, just like my dress. It doesn't make sense. Why would a cowboy be dressed like a cow? These Capitol people…

Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. The effect is actually kind of stunning.

I find myself standing by the girl from District 3 and her partner, but I can't remember their names. The girl is dressed as a circuit board, as far as I can tell – she's wrapped in wires; one arm has a tan cylinder with four different colored bands on it and the other is covered in red, tiny, blinking light bulbs. The boy is a light bulb, with a glass bulb encasing his upper body. I wonder how he can even breathe in that costume.

She says, "Hi, I'm Lynetta. This is Claud. What are your names?"

We introduce ourselves and make small talk for a while. Lynetta looks about sixteen, like me, and she's extremely gorgeous. I even see Claud checking her out. _Gross_. He's only about thirteen years old and he seems nervous and jumpy. I hope he doesn't throw up over all of us.

Then Lynetta proclaims bluntly, "So, I like you guys. You'd be a good help in the arena. Want to be allies?"

Elya and I glance at each other. He shrugs. I ask her, "Are you that's a good idea? Wouldn't an alliance just mean more mouths to feed, and then, eventually, betrayal?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could all four be allied at the beginning, and keep together so that we wouldn't be an easy target for the Careers. And then at the final eight or so, we could just split up peacefully and then not have to watch each other get killed."

Yeah, like we'd all make it to the final eight, I think skeptically. That means some Careers would have to die first, in addition almost everyone else. I look at Claud – certainly he couldn't kill a Career. Elya, Lynetta, and I might be able to put up a fight; not against all six of them though. Well, I guess we'd better with Lynetta than without her.

I make a decision. "Okay. Allies." Elya nods in agreement.

I turn away from them to observe the other tributes and size up my competition. All the usual Careers are in a group together, except one. Who's missing? I mentally run through the group to find out – there's Amethyst and Marin from One, Kacela from Two, and Jaqua and Marlon from Four. But where's the boy from Two? I look around until I find him, standing next to the girl from Six or Seven. I'm pretty sure her name is Shyla.

"What's _that_ about?" I ask Elya.

"Huh?"

"Never mind." I guess I'll find out eventually if there's something going on between them. The girl Ennie from Eight is standing around by herself, glaring at everyone that walks by her. I shiver, remembering the scared feeling I got while watching her Reaping. I'll definitely want to stay away from _her_.

Then the Capitol people are yelling at us to get in our chariots. Lynetta and Claud leave to go up to the District 3 chariot, near the front. We get in ours just in time, and the chariots start moving.

As soon as we get out into the chariot track, Elya grabs my hand in his. I look at him, surprised. He mouths the word "sponsors" and I understand – if we play nice for the Capitol, we might get some sponsors in the Games. My mind flashes back to when he told me he loved me in the train. Was that just an act, then? I knew it. Whatever. I guess I'll have to be nice to him, for now.

We smile and wave at the Capitol crowd like nice little pawns, but inside I'm groaning at the whole event. Luckily, though, the crowd seems to like our outfits well enough. It must be the glittering sequins. They're suckers for glamour.

Soon, it's over, and we head back to our rooms. Elya stops me before I can close my door.

"Can I come in?"

Ugh, why does he want to talk to me? There aren't any cameras around, so it's not like it will help us get sponsors. Even though I don't particularly want him in my room, I don't really see what it could hurt. And he looks pretty desperate to talk to me.

"Well, all right."

He comes in and sits down, looking at the floor.

"You know how, in the chariot, I said I was holding your hand for the sponsors?" I nod. "Well, I lied." I raise my eyebrows, but he's still looking down. "I actually did it because I like you, and I figured I might as well make the most of it before we die."

"Wow. Thanks for the optimism."

"Yeah, sorry. The point is, though, that I really do love you. I'm not just saying that to mess with your head, or to get sponsors, or to get you to trust me and later betray you. I'm telling you this now because if I die in the bloodbath, I'll never get the chance to tell you. And if I don't, I want to stay with you in the arena until I do die, so I can protect you."

I look in his eyes and see nothing but honesty. How could I trust him, though? This could just be an extended version of his trick when we were younger, except with higher stakes.

He finally looks at me, and pleads, "Please, Rienna. I've always thought I had years to tell you, and it turns out that I don't. I don't expect you to say you love me back. Just think about it. I know you used to have feelings for me, but I totally screwed that up. I'll regret that day forever. I'm just begging you for one more chance."

Wow. He seems to actually mean what he said, and he apologized for embarrassing me. I sigh.

"Okay. We're allies. We'll stick together in the arena because it'll help both of us survive. But I'm not going to go running into your arms like I did before. I learned that lesson the hard way."


	4. Training

The next morning, Croyale wakes me up early, looking perky as usual. "Come on, sweetie, time to get ready for the first day of training!"

While her loyalty to the Capitol and spoiled lifestyle irritate me to no end, I still find myself envying her carefree and happy nature. I wonder what it would be like not to have to fear for my life – for my sister's and friends' lives – once every year. She flounces out of my room and I sink back into my bed. Just for a second, I contemplate locking myself in my room and not going to training.

But I have to. I have to play their game.

I get up, take a shower, and get dressed. I look in the mirror at the new, waxed and polished version of me. This is all Panem knows: an illusion. This isn't really me. I don't have shiny hair; or long, fake eyelashes. In a way, this makes me feel better; my privacy less invaded. The Capitol isn't intruding into my life, but instead they are fabricating a fake life for me and displaying it for the whole country.

As I walk to the elevator, I see Elya waiting for it to arrive. He smiles at me. I can't help it – I smile back. The door makes that electronic _bing_ that made me jump the first time I heard it, and we get on.

The small girl from Twelve is also in the elevator, clinging to the boy from her district. She looks scared and he looks angry. I wonder if he's angry at the girl for annoying him, or angry at the Capitol for his situation. Probably both. When we get to the eighth floor, the female tribute gets on. Her name is Ennie, I remember. We all collectively back up, subconsciously keeping our distance from this scary tribute.

Nobody else enters the elevator until the third floor, when both Lynetta and Claud get on. Lynetta says hello to me and Elya and starts chattering about the last couple days, "The food really is great! We never have such variety in our district, do we, Claud? Oh, and our escort is just hilarious. Her name is Seliza but she tells us to call her 'See.' Like the letter. And there isn't even a C anywhere in her name, either. Ha! Isn't that crazy? It's like me asking you guys to call me 'Pee.' Oh oops, I said pee! You know–"

"Will you shut UP?" growled Ennie. We all look at her. "Nobody cares. And you're giving me a headache."

Just then the elevator doors opened and Ennie shoved her way out. The Twelves follow. I hear Elya breathe a sigh of relief.

Lynetta, on the other hand, looks on the verge of tears. "It's okay," I tell her, "nobody likes her anyway."

Thankfully, Lynetta seems to cheer up a little, and we all exit the elevator. We walk down a grand hallway, full of intricate glassy lights and preserved bouquets of flowers. As we approach the training center, we see two armed guards. "What are they for?" I whisper.

"To keep us from killing each other before the Games start," Lynetta says ominously.

We get to the room and Elya looks at me expectantly. "So, Rienna, where to?" I notice Lynetta and Claud staring at me too, waiting.

Huh. Looks like I'm the leader of our little group, then. Or maybe Elya's just trying to get on my good side. Either way, I should probably start leading. "Well, since we're allies, we should probably split up so that we can learn as many skills as possible between us four. How about… two of us go to weapons and two go to the shelter building station?"

Lynetta and Claud nod. Elya says, "Sounds good. You and I can go to weapons. That okay with you guys?" He looks at the District Threes.

Lynetta says, "Yup. Off to shelter building!" They walk off together.

This leaves Elya and me alone together. He whispers, "How long are we going to be able to stay with them? Alliances always end in betrayal. We see that happen every year. I like them, though, so I don't want to have to kill them – but I will not let them kill us."

"Well, Claud doesn't look like he could hurt a fly. And Lynetta can't kill me, or she'd die too. The only way they could betray us is if Lynetta tried to…" I couldn't say the word, "hurt you, and I'm sure you could take her. I think an alliance would be good for us. Strength in numbers, you know?"

"Whatever you say, boss." He winks. "At least you're safe." As if.

We start at the archery station. Surprisingly, after just a few tries, Elya is managing to consistently hit close to the bull's-eye. I just can't get the hang of it, though. The weapon feels too heavy for me. I tell Elya that, and he says we should try the knives instead.

These are much better. Unlike the bulky bow, I can actually get a decent grip on the knives. I throw a small dagger at the dummy, and hit it in the shoulder. Not a fatal blow, but better than missing completely.

I try again, aiming for the head this time. The knife goes into the dummy's eyeball. Nice.

Elya nods, impressed, and tries to throw a couple. He hits the dummy each time, but never in a vital organ. He hits the arm, then the thigh, then the knee. He holds out a long serrated knife for me to try once more.

I throw it straight at the heart, and surprisingly, it hits its mark. The trainer nods approvingly at me. "Well done."

Next, we try swords, spears, and other dangerous metal objects, but none of them work for me as well as the knives. Elya seems to have liked the archery station best. Well, then. Guess we've found our weapons.

The training coach tells us it's time for lunch, so we meet up with Lynetta and Claud and sit down.

"Did you guys learn anything?" Elya asks.

"We spent a while at the edible berries section, finding ways to remember which are poisonous and which aren't. Like this. 'If the center is white then put up a fight. Because if it's not blue, it could kill you.'" She sings the last part.

"Lovely."

"Well, it helps us remember that blue is good and white is bad. We have others, want to hear them?"

"Maybe later, thanks."

"Okay. So what did you guys find out at the weapon stations?"

"Well, Elya is really skilled with a bow and arrow, which is helpful. If, you know, we can find one at the Cornucopia. I wasn't really good at any of the weapons–"

"That's not true, Rienna!"

"–except for the knives. I could handle those alright."

I glance reproachfully at Elya for interrupting me, but don't say anything. He was trying to defend me, after all. Lynetta and Claud are both nodding.

Claud says, "How about after lunch we switch? You guys learn survival stuff, and we'll work on some weapons."

"Sounds good," I say. Nobody mentions the unspoken implication behind his words: that we'd all need to know as much as possible in case the rest of us died.

When lunch was over, Elya and I head to the shelter building station. This is usually a pretty deserted station, since most of the tributes believe that weapons are more important. The trainer shows us how to make a small hut out of vines and twigs, and how to seal it off from the rain without making the entire structure collapse. It takes a long time, but when we finish, I step back and stare, proud of our work.

Then, the evil-looking Ennie comes over to the station. She innocently asks "Did you two just make this?"

Hesitantly, I reply, "Yeah..."

"Well," she says, looking at the trainer, "give _me_ a chance to teach you a lesson. And that is," she walks over to the hut, "that it's twice as much fun to _destroy_ something," she stomps all over the structure, "as it is to build it." She smirks at our gaping faces and stalks away.

"She… She ruined our hut!" Elya exclaims.

"Sorry, guys," says the trainer, "but we would have taken it down after you left anyway."

While this made sense in my head, there was still a huge difference between the Games' trainers tearing down our hut and another tribute doing so. That Ennie chick just started a fight between us, and she knew it.

For whatever reason, she had decided to single us out, and for that, she'd pay.

When it was time to leave, we meet back up with the District Threes, and ask them what they've learned. Little Claud shakes his head sadly, and Lynetta says, "Nothing really… fit with Claud. Most of the weapons were just too big. It's okay, honey, you'll be fine!" I notice a hint of desperation in Lynetta's voice; she seems to really care about Claud, almost as if he were her little brother.

"What about you, though?" Elya asks Lynetta.

"Oh, well, nothing to really be proud of, but I managed to handle the swords and spears. I definitely couldn't hold up against a Career or two, though."

We walk to the elevator to return to our floors, and it breaks my heart to see Claud so disheartened. "Hey Claud, I saw you at the knot-tying station this morning. You looked really good – I could tell even the trainer was really impressed! That's really good for us, because Elya and I don't know anything about knots and we might need them to catch food in the arena."

He looks slightly mollified as Elya nods in agreement. Then we're at the third floor and they have to get off. "See you guys tomorrow, then," waves Lynetta. We have two more days of training before the interview. Can't wait.

Jewel pounces on us as soon as we walk out of the elevator. "How did training go? Did you make any allies?"

I hesitate. "Well, yes. We think we're going to be allies with the pair from District Three."

"Hmm. That boy will be useless," she says contemptuously, "but the girl looks promising. Just don't get too close, or she could stab you in the back." This last part was directed only toward Elya, of course.

As we returned to our rooms, Elya apparently decides to bother me some more with all this romance stuff. "Rienna," he starts. "Rienna, listen. I'm so happy you agreed to be my ally–"

"So you can get close to me for an easy kill."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, clearly that's the point of all this. No, seriously, think about it from my perspective. I know that you despise me for what I did. Would it be worth it to me to try to seduce you, just so it'd be easy for me to kill you?" I raise my eyebrows. "No, it wouldn't. If I wanted to do that, I'd probably just stick with a 'best friends' angle. Think. The only logical reason I could have for trying to convince you that I _do _love you," I cringe at that word, "is because it's true. And I don't have much time left to tell you."

"Okay, well consider me told," I say icily. Then I frown – maybe I'm being too harsh? But all it takes is one thought about that day, years ago, and I manage to walk into my room and shut the door behind me.

I lay down for what is sure to be a restless night.

In the morning, I awake to a banging on my door, demanding my presence at breakfast. We eat, we go downstairs, we train, we come back to bed. The only interesting thing that happens is Ennie, from District Eight, throwing a life-sized 180-pound dummy clear across the training room. It crashes into the spear station, which panicked the trainers for a while.

Sheesh. That girl is _scary_.

The next few days pass quickly, until before I know it, we're waking up on interview day.

Jewel comes in to talk to us briefly. "You four make up one of the biggest non-Career alliances anyone's ever seen. Use that to your advantage in these interviews. The more you seem like actual, real children, the more sympathy and sponsors you'll get."

After a second, she adds, "And maybe people will question the morality of killing innocent, friendly children."


End file.

Hunger Games, Drama