The clamor and chaos of my own troubled mind wakes me. I sit up in bed, my eyes gritty with sleep. As soon as I check that I am able to open them enough to see, I allow myself to be reminded of current reality. No, you're not at home, Cassia. Yes, you are on a train. To the Capitol. With your brother, mentor, and very rude escort, who is a creature named Petra Gem. I smile as I let myself have a little bit of a go at Gem- without her watching, anyway.

I move off the bed. It doesn't take long to notice that I had a troubled sleep, though no nightmares seem to have made a lasting impression on me. That is, if there were any at all. I lug the heavy covers back onto my bed, and rearrange the pillows that must have gotten kicked or thrown to the floor. The truth is, there's no need to give the Avoxes any trouble by being a terrible guest. They're not the cause of my largest worries.

I flick on the light to my bathroom and hop into the shower. My feelings of annoyance fade as the water comes on, the feeling of it warm and welcoming. The patter of water on my back is the only thing I focus on for quite some time. After all, it's not like there is much warm water at home to bathe in. Back in the part of District Seven that I came from, any liquid warmer than freezing is solely for cooking.

I spend at least a minute tinkering with the numerous buttons on the quartz wall. Some I find control the form of the water, quickly changing from an almost intangible mist to stinging jets of water that make me jump when they slam full-force between my shoulder blades. Others regulate temperature, as I find by scalding myself with both hot and icy cold streams of water. The last buttons open hidden pockets in the wall, filled with countless gels, pastes, soaps, and potions for who can possibly know what. I open and rummage through multiple drawers until I press a final chrome button on the bottom corner of the control panel, which reveals a single glass vial. Inside is a gel that is the unmistakable amber of tree sap. I deftly pull off the lid, and pour a light portion into my hand, then rub the gel gently into my skin. I close my eyes and sigh as the scent of pine fills the bathroom. It smells of home. I smile as I almost instantly wonder if this was Cedar's doing.

When I get out of the shower, I am instantly met with controlled blasts of warm air as soon as I step onto the shower mat outside the shower. I am dry within five seconds, and soon I hear a metal box pop out of the wall to my left. When I press it with my hand, I feel wind on my scalp, weaving along my hairline. Suddenly, it is loose around my shoulders, and I vaguely remember that I used to have a braid. With only slight annoyance, I pad over to the mirror. I chuckle when I see a girl with a long black mane staring bemusedly back at me. As I re-braid my hair again, I wonder if the machines could be programmed to see why I keep my heavy, uncontrollable curtain of hair in a braid all the time.

When I exit the bathroom, I go to the enormous closet to program it. I merely whisper a request or two, and multiple outfits fitting the description appear from behind the doors. I change into a dark green tunic, dark denim jeans, and sheepskin-lined leather boots that I finally decide feel appropriate for today.

I cross the room, my mind dwelling on what I may be doing today. Will Cedar be mentoring me? Will the other living victor of District Seven actually show up? Will Petra Gem be stalking me the entire day, waiting for me to explode? I press a button on the right wall beside my bed, and a window appears, covering the entire wall. I don't recognize the district, but I do see chain-link fence, and giant, branching oak trees; nothing more. Speaking of which, where is Gem? I have a feeling she would be here by now.

A loud rap answers my thought almost simultaneously. "Get out here, young lady, and eat your breakfast!" a commanding voice barks at me.

Well, I think. No need to even ask at this hour. I wonder if I can just summon her by thinking her name-

"NOW!" the voice screeches at me, almost making me jump. I reluctantly press the button at my side again to close the window. Time to face the beast. Again. And only many more times to go, my mind snarls at me in Gem's voice. I swear that I almost catch a cackle as I press the button that opens the door.

My quarters is soon open to both me and Gem, but I am standing in the doorway, staring at her, silently blocking her way into my room. She stares back down at me, her lips pressed tightly together as she looks up and down my figure, clearly expressing her disapproval of my outfit. "Good morning," I say dryly, once again lightly pushing past her to the dining car.

Once again, I see Eli already there. He is filling a plate with food. We both have a tendency to get up quite early in the morning. I see the sky through the glass roof, and just as I suspect, the sky is not yet blue.

"Hey, Cass, sit down! The food's great," Eli says through a mouthful of breakfast as he motions me over to sit next to him. I slide down easily into my chair, and as if my sickness last night had not had any effect on me, I treat myself to a large breakfast and plow into my food. Cedar joins us soon after, and then we are all eating and enjoying ourselves.

There is a large amount of eggs, and Cedar makes me an omelet with a combination of ingredients that I've never used, but my mentor claims it's his favorite way to make an omelet. First, he piles shrimp, shreds of a creamy cheese, and long green slices of a fruit that he calls an avocado onto my eggs, and folds them together. When I take a bite, I instantly see why he loves this dish. The cheese has melted by now into the eggs, and its saltiness pairs nicely with the sweet flesh of the shrimp and additional richness of the avocado fruit. After the omelet, I keep pace, filling my plate with plain batter cakes and fruit, filling a cup with black coffee. Whenever my family had coffee, which was rarely, I had always drunk it bitter and untainted. It had never tasted good to me sweetened.

"We will arrive at the Capitol shortly," says Cedar. "I would advise that you two find something to do while we finish the ride."

"About how long is 'shortly'?" inquires Eli, spreading what looks like marmalade on his batter cakes.

"Two to three hours," answers Cedar without hesitation. He glances at me from across the table.

"You both missed the showings of the Reapings yesterday."

"Yes," says Eli almost absently, but knowing him, I can tell that Cedar has caught his full attention.

"It will give you an advantage to see the other tributes," says Cedar sharply, startling me. His voice grows hard. "If you size them up early on, then you can observe them without them noticing. And both of you are already at a disadvantage, because it is likely that the other tributes have already watched the Reapings and sized you up."

"But the television only shows anything being filmed live," Eli says slowly, carefully choosing his words. "There isn't a way that we can watch the showings a second time."

"We can the same way that one can watch former Hunger Games," supplies Cedar impatiently. "You only have to use voice command to see them again. Look, I will even show you." He stands up straight from his chair, rocking the table. Then, he walks over to the television, and after a few seconds of whispering into the black stem of the machine, an image comes alive on the hologram screen. It is of a square full of people; in District One, I realize. An overly decorated woman begins to babble the typical speech, the same that Gem herself had uttered in District Seven. Cedar sits heavily back into his seat. "Now, both of you, pay attention closely to the tributes. Watch how they walk, their expressions, everything. But even if they seem like cowards-" he fixes us with a knowing, almost haunted expression- "never underestimate them. Ever. It could cost you your lives." His tone of voice lets us know instantly how important this is, and Cedar stresses it to us until the woman announces the name of the girl tribute.

"Vera Sanaki," the woman reads off of a plain white card. A beautiful girl with straight black hair and a terrified expression staggers from the crowd. She looks about thirteen. At first, it seems that no one will volunteer for the girl. Then, a hand shoots up in the air and a voice screams out, "I volunteer!" The Peacekeepers receive the volunteer, a tall girl with a long, white cardigan, while the other girl scurries away from the attention of the cameras.

"Well, well, and who might be this brave new volunteer?" asks the woman with interest.

"Amethyst. Amethyst Vallen," states the girl proudly. My suspicions that this girl is a Career are confirmed.

Cedar cuts off the woman's next babbles of excitement with a question. "Are you two good with names?"

Eli gestures at me while the woman continues her high-pitched train of flattery. "I can remember them well enough, but Cass remembers practically everything she hears." I nod as well. It's true. I am good at memorizing not just names and facts, but sometimes entire conversations. If Cedar were to ask me everything that I heard someone say this morning, I could probably recite the last two hours, if not more. It is certainly a trait I take pride in.

"Good, good. I would advise trying to remember the names of the tributes. It helps you remember things about them. So that you can remember which one they are when they're creeping through your territory at night and someone calls their name. That sort of thing is useful if you need to make a quick decision," finishes Cedar as the woman draws from another glass ball to pick the male tribute.

"Cornelius Larrah," I hear the woman say.

Cornelius, dark-skinned and broad, is clearly a Career, as seen from the swagger in his step as he walks to the podium. But that is not the part about him that causes the blood to drain from my face. It is his size. The boy looks to be almost Cedar's size. He is a giant. And it seems very likely now that Eli's or my chances of winning have been knocked down to a very low number, with the exception being the possibility that he is incompetent with weapons. Which, him being a Career, is highly unlikely.

I shoot a glance at Cedar, trying to read his reaction, see what he makes of this tribute. He is expressionless, but his gaze is still focused on the screen. This sends me a clear enough message. I follow the direction of his focus to the screen. Cedar's eyes follow Cornelius's every movement, and as I find mine doing the same, many subtle bits of information become visible to me. From his confident swagger, it seems to show off the power in his build; the fact that he may be literally showcasing his own body's ability to the district. But from the cheers that are anything but silent from the crowd, he doesn't even need to do so; most of them must be familiar with it already. His face is hard, but it seems to come from inner confidence, and not because he is masking emotions. This scares me. Without a doubt, this tribute has no intention of handing over the position of a victor to another tribute. And it appears almost that there is almost nothing unplanned in his mind. Who knows how many hours this tribute has studied weaknesses, fighting technique, survival instinct; how long he has practiced in these areas. How much time it has been since he has planned this day, and prepared to act on it.

I watch the two tributes seal their fate in a handshake, the crowd's excitement collecting in a roar that could wipe out the silence in any room. I silently make note of the two tributes and store what I have observed into the back of my mind. Time to watch the reapings for eleven more districts, including my own. Time to size up the tributes twenty-two more times. Time to note Eli's and my own weaknesses, so that we know to make up for them during training, or else pay for them in the arena.

We watch the reapings for the next hour. Every one of them catch my attention, every image is locked in my memory. I remember a few especially as Cedar, my brother and I immerse ourselves in our opponents.

I remember the cheers in the square of District Two, unbelievably louder than the previous district, as two more Careers both step up to take the place of another. A tiny girl from Three, with wide, dark eyes and jet-black hair cut straight across her shoulders. A very young Career from District Four not hesitating to volunteer for her best friend, though she was probably only thirteen at most. The tributes from Six, both sobbing hysterically as they stand in front of their district and everyone else watching. I wince as I see that my reaction to my name being drawn seems shell-shocked, and stunned. Eli seems the same way, but to my relief, the cameras do not catch his tears. A broad-shouldered boy from Eight, desperately trying to calm his family when they succumb to heart-wrenching sobs. A skinny, sleepy-looking twelve-year-old from Nine who becomes very awake when the boy tribute's name is drawn. An incredibly tall girl from Eleven whose potential strength seems to rival everyone's but Cornelius's own. And lastly, a little blonde girl from Twelve, thirteen years old, but even smaller than the already very slight girl from Three-- she can't be much more than four feet tall at most, I realize with alarm when she is escorted by two Peacekeepers to the front of the crowd.

When we are finished, my brain aches from the huge intake of information I have received today, yet I feel empty, like my blood and insides have been drained through my pores, to be replaced with liquid dread. How am I supposed to compete against half the tributes? How am I supposed to kill any of them, when I know all of them are as human as myself? Give or take, in order to survive, you may have to learn to kill, my father's voice echoes in my mind. How am I even going to try and survive?

Cedar's next words break into my train of thought. "Okay, I want you two to think about these tributes in the future, and what their presences might mean for your survival." Eli and I both nod assent, but he is not finished yet. "But, please don't think about them every waking hour. That may be the intention of some of them: to leave a lasting mark on your mind, in order to psych you out before you even arrive. Just keep them in mind, but pay attention nonetheless." With this, Cedar releases us back to our quarters, and leaves us some time for relaxation before we arrive at the Capitol.

I am not allowed to go into Eli's quarters to talk with him, so I spend my time looking out the window in my quarters, snacking on a little bit of food from a large icebox. As I watch the trees change from oak to pine, I can't help but think of District Seven. The only difference is the steady rise of the land as the foothills begin to be replaced by mountains. As I rip apart pieces of soft wheat bread, the very kind that my father wanted for so long to buy for my family, and pop them in my mouth, I savor the tenderness and wholesome quality that my father promised for me. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, if they are just getting by without Eli or me there, or if they are standing tall and proud of us, willing us to come home. Probably a mixture of both.

I try not to dwell on the next thought that comes rushing at me, hitting me full-force. Either none or one of you can come home, it says, taunting me until I push the thought away with as much mental force as I can muster. That kind of thought I know can take me down if I let it sit there. I can't let my mind dwell on it. So the only things I can think to do are to avoid the thought altogether, or to pull myself into the illusion that we can both get out if we try. After some contemplation, I just choose not to dwell on it. It would look stupid, after all, to lose my motivation for survival before the games even start.

A few minutes later, I begin to notice that the amount of trees is becoming lower and lower with each passing second. Before I even begin to think why, the train passes an enormous building made almost entirely of glass. Soon, the trees vanish as more buildings come into view and take their places. We are arriving in the Capitol.

The train travels lower and lower, until it straddles what appears to be a main street. Not surprisingly, it is full of Capitol people. I can even hear their cheers from up above as we come down. Right before we come close enough to see their faces, I press the button to the window, and it shuts. Then I make my way down the hall to the dining car, where I find Eli, as usual, is already inside before me. Cedar is there too; and he waves me over. Then, out of the corner of his mouth, he says to me, "Just wave and look happy. Your future sponsors could be out there." Then the train levels itself to the ground and Cedar pulls a relatively convincing smile and waves. Eli and I have no choice but to do the same.

The crowd is truly enormous, not to mention loud. Though the glass of our car effectively blocks bullets, it is clearly quite useless at blocking sound. While Cedar, Eli and I all smile and wave, we are greeted with shrill, almost inhuman squeals that blast our eardrums. The fact that we do nothing while the Capitol's people excitedly remind us that we're going to get decorated to look like glittery dolls, and then that they'll enjoy watching us die, truly disgusts me. I have to summon all my willpower not to run out of that car screaming my head off at that moment. I stand for three more agonizing minutes as I watch people dressed in the clothes of the truly insane screech my name. I feel my cheeks practically twitching from severe overuse, wondering just how long I can hold my smile before my face changes from uncomfortable to in severe pain; wondering just how long until I explode with anger. I almost collapse with relief when we enter a tunnel, away from the Capitol's people, who I am now sure are all lunatics. The whole lot of them is.

I suddenly find myself sitting on one of the chairs, and Cedar is talking to me. I have no idea what he's saying but he's clearly trying very hard to get through to me. When he finishes, I get the idea that he was saying that there will be more cameras at the station. With this, I stare at him, and for some reason, all that comes out of my mouth is, "How do you deal with these people? They want us dead."

Cedar gives me a rueful look, like I'm the one who isn't making any sense. "I guess you have to get used to it. Grit your teeth and keep smiling. And waving."

"Oh, yes, and keep sucking up to the stupid ones," I spit, trying in vain to scorch Cedar with my eyes.

"If you are going to even count on survival, you're going to do what they tell you to do, say what they want you to say, and give them all the crap they want about anything," Cedar hisses, leaning right in my face. "Yes, they are stupid, but half of those stupid idiots could be your ticket out of death. So if you want to live, I would advise you at least act like you don't despise everyone here, so you at least have a chance at sponsors!"

And as if on cue, we are in sunlight again, and Gem is announcing that we are about to leave the train.

We all walk farther down the hall to the front of the train. I feel Eli grab my hand. His breath is warm on my ear as he whispers, "You ready, Cass?"

I turn and give him an exasperated smile, which gets me a knowing laugh, and joke, "Don't go insane, because I have a bad habit of following trends." He chuckles again at my comment, and then Cedar gives us a final warning that the door is going to open.

When it does, I know that if this crowd is hell, that I don't want to know what the arena is like. Apparently, the screams in my ears are all but quiet. Ha. No surprise there. But I feel very claustrophobic surrounded by all these dyed, altered people, cheering our names even though they really don't know me or my brother.

The crowd hardly keeps its distance. The people tug at our clothes, our hair, our skin; trying to get our attention, maybe even trying to get a sample of us. I resist to tear away from them, run away through the crowd like the coward I used to be, one who hid from the world who beat down on her every day of her life. But I know I can't do that, not if I want to get sponsors, not while I can still feel Cedar's breath on my face as he warns me not to pull away. So I stand my ground. And pull the brightest smile I can manage while my personal space is violated.

My brother and I; Cedar, Gem; we are all led to a tall building that looks like a giant spindly tower of shining silver and glass, one that light illuminates to stand out, even among a shining city where light is always found. It is the building where so many other tributes have gone before us, where Eli and I will meet our stylist and prep teams.

It is beautiful, so beautiful, so. . . so. . . fake. I bristle when I remember what I came here for. All this, all the celebration. . . it is a lie. It is all a lie. Over two kids about to be sent into battle. To see who can survive, not win. Now I understand Cedar's concern. His dark mood swings. Everything. No one wins. All the victors lose everything in the arena. Even their humanity. Always that. As soon as the first kid closes their eyes for the last time- every contender loses exactly what they came to save. Their humanity, their sanity, their morality.

Which is what I'm about to do as soon as I walk into the building that seems so beautiful, when in reality, the beauty is as fake as every person here in this hellhole. Though it's done me good in the long run that I have always questioned beauty, why people insist that pain is beauty.

It all starts with the stylists. And I know, as soon as I enter, that I must trust in my stylist. Because if there's one thing I've learned since I've gotten here, it's that beauty rules here.

And against all odds, my fight for survival starts now.

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Hey!

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