Hi again. Only been a year.

I'm not narcissistic enough to think everyone has been agonising over my absence in extensive detail and theorising why I've gone, but… to tell you the truth… I've just been busy? I know that's probably a more boring response than me having some great personal tragedy or dramatically (or undramatically) deciding I'm done with the story, but I'm fine, the story is fine, lets get the show on the road!

(But you'll probably need to re-read the story first if you have a potato brain like I do).

Oh, also, warning, LONG LONG LONG chapter – a rather big reason for the extended absence, because I kept feeling daunted by the prospect of writing it. Trust me when I say this is likely to be the longest chapter of the story, but who knows.

Rosario Vogel, District 1, 18

Interview day was as stressful as I imagined. As soon as we woke up and had breakfast Leena was shrieking at us, trying to get us versed in the ways of Capitolian etiquette and custom.

I already knew the strange dos and don't of the Capitol – and how they liked you to talk, walk and live. It was part of the training in District One's academy. However, Jordyn, having not been to the academy, was not so well versed and I had to put up with Leena teaching her and screeching at her when she inevitably got things wrong.

"You look like you're suffocating!"

Jordyn winced, almost wobbling forwards as she tried to walk with the perfect Capitolian gait. "Maybe that's because this corset is suffocating me."

"Hourglass figure, hourglass figure!" Leena sighed, rolling her eyes. Jordyn waddled from one end of the room to the other, wincing and looking extremely uncomfortable. "Let me see if I can get you a corset that does the job without killing you before the interviews. Honestly, girl, you're meant to be a Career, you consented to being stabbed but a pair of heels and a tight corset are too much for you?"

She stormed out of the room. Jordyn immediately almost tore off her dress, turning away from me as she changed from the corset underneath and into a tank top.

"Remember to make sure your smile looks Duchenne," I told Jordyn. She turned around and raised an eyebrow. "A genuine one. The Capitol are usually good at telling fake body language because they spend their whole lives pretending that they're happy. A non-Duchenne smile will also make them hypothesise that you've gotten botox-"

"As if I could afford-"

"And while almost everyone in the Capitol have had botox done, they all pretend they don't and look down on people that do."

"These people are insane," Jordyn sighed and shook her head. "My trainer didn't want to teach me all this stuff. Said it was fairy business and I should focus on killing. I'm totally beginning to agree with him."

"Fairy business gets you money. Money helps you kill."

Jordyn shrugged, remarking sarcastically: "Guess I'll just have to focus on my charming personality."

I sniggered.

"So, who is your trainer?"

"You won't have heard of him, and if you did it wouldn't be good news. He has bad blood with the academy. Tried to set up his own rival one," Jordyn shrugged. "Cheaper to train there but it doesn't have the influence or the money your one does, which is why as of now I am his only student."

"Well yes, the academy is a monopoly," I said. "We even lobbied District One's government to make it compulsory for every single citizen of District One to train with us until fourteen, the excuse being it prepares every child for the Games to at least a basic degree – but the real reason being as well as extortionate fees we can always rely on taxpayer credits."

"That's unfair and wrong."

"Life isn't, but you benefited from it, you may have had lacklustre training from then on but you got the best of the best until you were fourteen. Surely you were given some etiquette training back then?"

"Possibly…"

"Remember that," I told her.

However, I realised I couldn't really look down on Jordyn. Not really. Her trainer couldn't have been too bad because she was on equal footing with Titan and I – we being trained Careers. She was either a natural or her trainer was decent, and both of those prospects intimidated me.

But she wasn't the main threat, and I knew that. Both of the Fours were. Their elevens would make them valuable assets initially, but when the final eight came – or perhaps earlier, if they were more tactical than I assumed they were – they would become my greatest adversaries.

They needed to be rid of.

"But Jordyn," I cleared my throat as Jordyn looked in the mirror, beginning to tie her made up hair into a more practical style. "I do see you as an equal. Do you know who I don't see as an equal?"

"Anyone who doesn't fit into your perception of what is normal, those people happening to look and act like you?" Jordyn said, her voice neutral despite the fact it was most definitely a barb.

"The Fours."

"No shit, they got a better score than us."

I tried not to let my irritation and hurt show. "You know what that means, right? It means they're the competition. We off them. As soon as possible."

Jordyn turned to face me seriously.

"Are you talking about killing our allies?"

"Of course I am. Name me a games where a Career hasn't been killed by a fellow Career," I challenged. Jordyn opened her mouth, but quickly was stuck. "Exactly. Did your trainer not tell you what you'd have to do to survive?"

"But to even contemplate it so early?"

"You must contemplate it on day one. I know Titan would be in with me if I proposed turning on them. Are you with me? I know you hate me but we share a District, you know for that reason I wouldn't turn on you until the final two or unless it's life or death – I do take honour very, very seriously."

Jordyn looked at me sternly, pursing her lips slightly. "With their eleven they could clear up the competition early when we need it."

"But when the time comes, I expect you by my side, because it's not Pip that goes first like I teased – it's the Fours. Both of them. Their head on a pike. You with me?"

I looked for a sign of hesitation from Jordyn and her dark eyes. Interestingly, I didn't get one: "I am."

It was disgusting that even after two hundred years of firm tradition, the depraved in the Capitol still felt the need to meddle with and potentially completely spoil the whole pre-Games process.

I was annoyed enough that they had decided to include District Thirteen – but understood it, as long as it were only temporary: they deserved punishment. Once that purpose had been served, I hoped they would just be thrown out and left as little more than a Panemian colony: as long as they were in the Games they were being legitimised alongside the other twelve Districts.

The implications of Thirteen went so much deeper than District-Capitol relations, too. For over two hundred years there had been a firm tradition for interviews: all of the tributes would wait backstage to be called by the interviewer.

People often complained about the custom as inefficient in the training centre – all of us squeezed backstage also did make things a struggle as camera crews, stage directors and the like bustled about. But it was always an exciting mystery to know the tributes were just behind the curtain, and it did make getting out on stage much easier as we went off one by one.

But things changed:

"You'll be going to the green room," Leena told us coldly once we had been styled. In the mirror I saw myself in a suit laced from sapphire – it emphasised my eyes. Jordyn contrasted me in a ruby dress, with what looked like ruby encrusted make up covering her eyes and lips. I hated to admit it, but with some Capitolian magic applied she looked beautiful.

But my mind was not focused on that.

"Green room?" I said, following Leena as she walked along. Her tiny body barged past an Avox so hard the Avox silently fell into a vase, which smashed. "Like a room we wait in until we are called?"

"I thought District One was the least primitive District. Yes, that's a green room."

I tried to hold in my anger. "But tradition has it-"

"With two more tributes backstage would be way too crowded. We have camera, lights, producers, the Hunger Games is a collaborative effort featuring hundreds if not thousands of people," she turned to me and rolled her eyes, opening what seemed to be a door leading to a luxurious and spacious room. "Plus you get food and drink in there. It's less chaotic when we lead you out one by one. You can mingle better. You're in the Capitol now – we're the heart of progress!"

Beside me, Jordyn sniggered sceptically.

Even worse about the green room was how happy it made the other tributes and how they disrespectfully scattered off into their alliances and talked to each other. Interviews had never been the time for a catch up, and the fact that this time tomorrow some of us would certainly be dead should've given the Hunger Games the seriousness it deserves.

"Ooh, cupcakes!" Titan smiled and snagged one, taking a bite. Besides him, Yveaux was trying to fit six slices of pizza in his mouth at once to impress Lillee – her laughter made it clear it was working. I glared at the oaf, excited for the moment I'd pierce his throat.

"Okay, ladies, gentlemen," we all quietened as the Deputy Head came into the room, surrounded by a flock of armed Peacekeepers. She investigated each of our features. "This may be a bit different to what you are expecting, but there are televisions around the room," she clapped her hands and they projected. "Where can watch others' interviews. You will be escorted out by Persephone," she pointed to the blonde haired, cheery Senior Gamemaker who'd just come in and waved at us all. "We expect full cooperation, am I clear?"

"Yes," I said almost alone. Following my lead, most of the others obediently mumbled their agreement.

"Good, break a leg," she smiled and made her way out.

Persephone smiled at us all. "Help yourselves to the snacks!" She said, as if everybody already hadn't. "There's a bathroom if you need to vomit it out, complete with assistants. Oh, except you Jordyn," she moved over and intercepted Jordyn, leading her out. "You're first so follow me. And tell me who did those nails!"

Jordyn was escorted out, uneasily discussing trivial Capitolian fashion.

"Wait," Pip said, realising she already missed her friend. "Do we go back in?"

Nobody knew, and there were shrugs and mumbles before everyone returned to their trivial alliances to converse.

When I turned to the television screen Caecilius Nortion, charismatic as ever, had finished his introductory segment.

"Now you get to meet the tributes up close and personal," he smiled keenly. "Starting with the wonderful Jordyn Rossi!"

Music played and the Capitolian audience cheered. Jordyn walked on, as confident as ever. But analysing her body language I could see some flaws: her walk the subtlest bit too slouched, her arms positioned in a way that was too masculine as she sat. Capitolian analysts and commentators would note that she was no natural Career.

"Jordyn," Caecilius smiled. "Our first tribute tonight. And who is excited to see her?"

Everybody cheered. Any decent trainer – and I'm sure Leena herself said this should be done – would thank them and Caecilius, but Jordyn missed the memo. Still, for an amateur she was doing well: she didn't look like she was going to break down.

"So," Caecilius leaned closer to his subject. "Speaking as someone who has had the most exclusive preview, what can we expect from the other twenty-five – not twenty-three, twenty-five! – tributes tonight?" Caecilius laughed through raucous applause.

"Oh," Jordyn flicked her hair back in a way she never did face-to-face. "You know. They're nothing special."

"And you are?"

"You bet I am," Jordyn smirked and nodded.

The cocky angle. It was cliché, but for a reason: if you made out you knew you were good, that was going to push away sponsors, regardless of your likeability. I folded my arms and watched with some interest as Jordyn told Caecilius she wasn't some spoiled Career from that prissy academy. It was rubbish, but it worked and I respected it.

When it came to more personal matters, Jordyn faltered. She stumbled over questions regarding her birth parents and her adopted family, looked wooden when she admitted she didn't really have any friends (had she made a point she was too busy training, she could've gotten away with it) and was especially uncomfortable when Caecilius asked her about her romantic prospects.

"You don't even get crushes?" Caecilius asked. I saw Jordan's face flush pink. "None of the thirteen boys this Games got your eye?"

"Well…" She stumbled over her words a little bit. I wondered if she was going to tell the world about her… proclivities. The Capitol was very permissive in that regards and if she told the world about it, while hordes of well meaning, traditional folks would disapprove, she could possibly increase her sponsorship. She said nothing. "No. Not at all," she finally settled with an answer. I wondered if she was dignified in not rubbing her lifestyle in other's faces, or if she was just embarrassed and not ready, or if there was another reason.

Still, it was very clear Jordyn did not get the kind of refinement the training centre had offered. She handled herself fine enough, but she charisma was clearly not a strong point: she was a poor mix of abrasive and distant, and contradictory in the sense she was only able to engage in small talk whilst obviously not quite enjoying it. Still, her last question got her some cheers and potentially some sponsors:

"Before you go, there are so many other tributes and even Careers going into these Games. Jordyn, what makes you stand out from the rest?"

Jordyn smiled. This seemed to be her comfort zone, and she spoke with her usual honesty: "I've always wanted to make something out of my life. To escape the trap that I've found myself in. To be something more. There are things that have happened to me that might break a person's spirit. It hasn't broken mine. I remain determined and I know that I have the determination and the drive it takes to win."

I watched Jordyn as the Capitolian audience gave her the first real cheer of the night – just as she was exiting. I scanned her ricked face, her petite frame and her almost District Two like features. This was the girl I would ally with, possibly betray other Careers with. I didn't know what to make of her, but I was going to show her how it was done.

"Here we have the one, the only, Rosario Vogel!"

Francine Thales-Wren, District 3, 13

I watched the television keenly as Rosario came onto the television, his blonde hair immaculate, his walk perfect even by Capitol standards, his eyes and suit glimmering the same oceanic blue and his smile just as dazzling. There was something about him I didn't like and found terrifying the moment I saw him in the remake centre.

Careers were missing at least one of the following: more than two braincells, emotional stability, charisma or a score higher than a nine. Rosario had the whole bag: a perfectly trained Career who could go out and dazzle the Capitol one day and brutally kill the very next. Some of his allies could fight better than him, but in my view he was the ultimate Career of the bunch.

I watched him discuss his adoring relationship with his girlfriend and his love and dedication to Panem in a a dress that looked like coloured wires wrapping around my small body, wedged between an irate Arran who looked like he was wearing smoke moulded into a tuxedo and Percy whose oak coloured dress looked pretty, but very uncomfortable. Syncis sat at my feet, looking around the room of tributes confusedly.

"Fuse doesn't like cake… He will sit out," he mumbled to himself, rocking slightly with wide and scared eyes. I had gotten pretty good at tuning him out, but still felt bad for him. "Mara gets cake. Fuse does not."

"Does he ever fucking shut up?" Arran growled. Syncis didn't seem to process the aggression coming from my ally.

"Just tune it out," I mumbled to myself. I glanced at Percy and noticed she wasn't totally tuned into Rosario's interview, but was observing the other tributes in their natural habitat. The both of us briefly made eye contact with Lillee, who was drinking wine and laughing with Yveaux. Their interaction seemed genuine, with her laughing and casting an unsure, very brief smile with us. I hoped she wasn't attached. That would defy the whole point of our alliance.

As Rosario left to rapturous applause, he was replaced as the District Two girl was called out to her interview. The formal name didn't suit the informal, devil may care expression she always held: Agrippa Wilder, though she still looked clearly uncomfortable as she waltzed out accompanied with a Gamemaker and Peacekeepers.

"Agrippa! It's so lovely to meet you. Rumour has it you like Pip, though, right?"

"Yeah. Lets stick with Pip," Pip said. What shocked me was I think she was even better at this than the One girl – despite the fact they seemed cut from a similar cloth, people who could hang with the Careers but weren't truly part of their group. She folded one leg over another. Like the One girl, there was an element of forcing herself to interact, but she was much better at it: when she toyed away from her personal life it didn't appear evasive, it appeared mysterious.

"I've had a rough life," Pip explained, looking down and playing with a fold of her dress: I noted once again the magic Capitolian stylists had at their fingertips, her dress looked like it was made right from stone but was as loose and free as any of the other dresses the girls were wearing. "I've lived separate from my parents since I was twelve. I can deal for a few weeks. Maybe even a few years."

Caecilius chuckled. "But you're not a born and raised?" I remembered the infamous brand of Career in Two, literally who lived in the academy. The Games hadn't had one in a while – that was something other tributes through the years should've been thankful for, however bad it was.

"I raised myself, no academy," Pip said resolutely. "But I did meet people who I chose as my own family. A gang."

"So you're a fighter?"

"Yes. I am. A real one. There's no rules with fighting like the Careers usually believe, there's just fighting. And I've fought. It might not be with their fancy swords but I know how to play dirty. And I didn't fight bound criminals or dummies. I fought actual scumbags and street urchins."

"But have you killed? In District Two, it's a mandatory part of training."

Pip hesitated for a bit. "I don't know. When I'm done with someone, I don't stick around."

I glanced at the Careers. Lillee and Rosario despite observing Pip from both perspectives held a startlingly similar expressions.

The Two boy, Titan, who was also lingering around Lillee was escorted to his interview just as Pip left to a better than expected applause applause. I glanced back at the television, frowning slightly.

Titan was similarly charming. He was less refined than Rosario, but more natural and I think Rosario had conveyed and seemed much more prepared than Pip or Jordyn. The gentle giant Career was a favourite Capitolian trope, and their likability mixed with their strength and competence always promised them a steady supply of sponsors.

Titan would probably rest assured he was no different, in his tuxedo that looked like it had been carved from granite around his bulging muscles and his goofy, unserious demeanour. For the millionth time I wish I had the strength, beauty and confidence that Career girls – or even the kind of popular girls in my District had – maybe then I could talk to people like Titan.

Instead I was in a bubble of outcasts, noting that nobody in our trio (or Syncis, who talked primarily to himself) were really speaking. Percy was socially competent, but very eccentric. Arran was not eccentric, but definitely not socially competent at all. I wasn't sure if I was either.

There was Lillee, but I realised she was a little bit like the girls who would pretend to like me so that they could copy my homework, or take advantage of the fact I was raised in a family that earned almost a hundred the amount of credits their family earned. It wasn't so outwardly cynical – I was a little bit more in Lillee's mind than a means to an end, but she wanted me around because she felt I was smart enough to help her reach her futile goal.

Unfortunately for her I was also smart enough to not tell her that her goal was futile, and that maybe I would be smart enough to have one of us survive the Hunger Games, but I wasn't smart enough to help her overhaul two hundred years of culture. Nobody was. When strong minds and strong hearts clashed in the political arena, strong hearts usually held out. But I wanted to be surrounded by strong people, and I didn't want to be alone, really. Before the Games I had everything I could ever want – except friends.

At least that was how I felt about the people that did associate with me. There was even a girl, Dayta, who I once considered a best friend – I was besotted with her. I don't think she felt remotely the same.

It didn't upset me too much that other than my parents who I loved more than anything, I had been – in the meaningful sense – alone my whole life. But I didn't want to be alone my whole death.

I glanced at the television screen, still thinking of Dayta as Titan finished his interview. It seemed as if he had also been thinking about someone close to him, his friend Alecto Draven, related to Lorelei from last year distantly.

"And you two… were a thing?" Caecilius probed.

Titan nodded wistfully. "We grew apart after Lorelei died. I think she needed some space to figure things out. But I think about her a lot… who knows, maybe if I win this thing…"

Next to me, Arran pretended to put a gun in his mouth and shoot, playing dead for a while.

"It's kind of sweet," Percy noted genuinely. "It's just kind of sad we have to kill him. How long do you think he'll last compared to the other Careers? I reckon he'll outlive one or two of them, before we get to him." I glanced at the two tributes I was wedged between. They were very strange and very detached in their own way – but the scariest thing to me is I don't think either were sociopaths.

As Titan's interview was wrapped up, I cleared my throat, straightening out my already immaculate dress and futilely trying to press down my far from immaculate hair which even Capitolian magic couldn't get fully in order. Soon, I was led out of the green room and towards the stage, hearing the applause for Titan in person. I cleared my throat as I was tucked behind the stage: I could see how they once fit twenty-four tributes and their teams here, though it would've been crowded then, it felt way too big and empty now.

"And our first non Career of the night. We know what we can expect from our six Careers, trained for this event sometimes from day one," Caecilius set the scene. My heart hammered in my chest as I prepared to take the plunge out to the audience. "Francine Thales-Wren!"

The Capitol cheered. Not wanting to disappoint them, I held back my shyness and stepped out. The lights were blinding and I tried to hold back my instinctive need to squint, waving at them with as much enthusiasm as I could muster – which wasn't much – as I felt like I sleepwalked to the iconic, plush couch across from Caecilius, throwing myself into it.

"Francine! A pleasure to meet you!" Caecilius, with his masculine and dangerously symmetrical features, was always considered amongst the most handsome of Capitolian men. I was admittedly taken aback as to how he somehow even seemed better than the photographs and videos in person.

"Thank you, Caecilius," I said, trying to fight back the urge to run away. "It's nice to meet you too… you look good."

The Capitolians whooped in approval, and I blushed slightly. "And you look great too Francine. You look wonderful. How are you finding the Capitol?"

"Um," I paused, pensive for a moment. "I don't think it's been as much of a culture shock here for me compared to the others. I mean some traditions are a little over my head, and obviously the wealth here is incomprehensible to me, but I'm not like most other District Three kids. I don't have to worry about how I'm going to afford to eat."

"Thales-Wren. The business minded Capitolites among us would recognise that name. Care to expand?"

"We're one of Three's elite larger businesses," I explained with a hint of pride for what my family had achieved. I was also relieved I could be explaining these matter of fact things, over my family or my general feelings. "We generate millions of credits. We own three large factories with plans for further expansion. We focus on weaponry for the Capitol, to keep Panem strong," the audience cheered, but I spoke through them – perhaps I shouldn't have. "It started munitions but we decided espionage is something the Panemian government would want to invest it."

"A business savvy mind could help you win the Games."

"I think it's more that my mind is science savvy," I said. "We've seen smart tributes who seemed small and shy get far if not win before. I know I…" I felt stupid for stumbling on my words slightly, just as I wanted to look competent. "I know I can win," I said, resolutely.

"Is that token on your neck something scientific?" Caecilius asked, gesturing at my neck.

I clutched at the glowing green and blue capsule that rested on my chest, before pulling it so the audience could see better. "It's an enclosed isotope, from my parents. It's not as dangerous as it sounds, but it looks pretty."

"Do you miss them?" Caecilius asked. I paused, forcing him to elaborate. "Your parents, that is."

I wish I could play tough like Pip and say I didn't care, or declare confidently like Rosario than I'd see them again. They were watching me, though. I knew that they loved me so much and wanted me home. "More than you would ever know," I smiled ruefully as the audience expressed a shallow sympathy.

"What would you say to them if they were here now?"

"I told them what I wanted to at the Justice Building," I said, pushing back the memory of seeing my parents cry so passionately for the first time. I wasn't a cryer but I cried that day, and I felt a small swelling in my eyes again, though I kept resolute. "I'm trying. I'm fighting."

"And do you have any allies who will help you with that fight?" The man opposite asked curiously, a finger stroking his strong chin.

"Two!" I lied with a smile. A smile that I had somehow secured allies, and a smile that the Careers would be watching with no idea what was coming their way. "Percy from District Seven and Arran from District Twelve. I'll let them speak for themselves at their own interview but they're tough."

Caecilius, probably for the reason that they had their own time to shine, didn't probe further and moved onto fluffier questions: my favourite day of the week, or what foods I disliked. He was a good interviewer: had I had someone like Jynx or the now dead Nadia Skettings I'd have crumbled. He encouraged me to be my best self.

As a buzzer sounded and I made my way off the stage to the most modest applause of the night – but at least there was applause there – I couldn't help but notice that even Caecilius' magic wouldn't work for my poor District partner.

Kai Chiroshi, District 6, 16

I stood with Roxanne, watching almost sadly as the Three boy sobbed and screamed on the stage. Caecilius was trying to comfort him, but even media magic wasn't exactly helping. My father was a doctor, and I had seen mentally ill people before. Usually they didn't have the fund to get the help they really needed. At best, we could shove them with medicine and pills and hope it helped. Sometimes it did. Usually it didn't.

"This is where real life and fiction kind of conflict," Roxanne said sadly. "In fiction the tribute that speaks about voices in his head is a villain. He or she – mainly he – will kill as many people as your usual Career. No doubt the Gamemakers have and will try to push those tributes in that direction, if they manage to make it out the Bloodbath. But right in front of us is the reality."

"Kind of makes you wonder if the whole fourth wall strategy we've got going on is worth it," I said to myself honestly.

"The Gamemakers are here to entertain and tell a story. This is their reality now."

"But he's going to die in the Bloodbath, isn't he?" I asked Roxanne. She didn't answer. "Whatever way you look at it, this is sad. He probably took himself out for that reason. And the Gamemakers kept him alive all for the sake of telling a story."

"It's not right, but it is what it is," Roxanne said as the District Four girl made her way onto our screens, with a shimmering blue dress that looked like fish scales – but pretty, of course. "Now there's an interesting one."

"I noticed you looking at her all night," I noted.

Roxanne glared at me slightly. The observer didn't like being observed. Eventually she smiled. "She's hot, what can I say?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't pretend you didn't notice!" She laughed, lowering her tone significantly as we glanced across to Yveaux alone in one room, and across the room and a sea of anxious tributes and alliances to Percy and Arran sat silently across the other. "Plus I want to know what is going on between her and those two. The Careers obviously haven't noticed, but I have – the small glances. I guess only an author can spot when people are showing without telling. The little things matter."

"What do you think it is?" I asked hushedly.

"I dunno," Roxanne admitted, chewing her lip. "Could be as simple as Lillee thinking Percy is cute. Somehow I doubt that, but I'm clutching at here. My instinct tells me the Careers are about to implode somehow and those two plus the Three girl are up to something."

On the television, Lillee was showing off her dress to the Capitolian audience. As with Rosario and Titan it was fake, but her bubbly demeanour played well.

"Is there anyway we could manipulate that? Percy and Arran… I wouldn't want to fight them," I admitted. "If we get the Careers to turn on them?"

"Nah. You sometimes need to just let the characters write themselves, the drama will happen," Percy said, eyes still fixed on Lillee who was talking adoringly about her father. "Plus the Careers are the primary antagonists. The sooner we have a shock twist get them out the way, the better for us."

Lillee left giving a contrived speech about how the Games have come to represent Panem's unity and history, and cryptically talked about how Thirteen's inclusion this year signified a change for the better, and we should continue to be open to improving the Hunger Games for that reason. She clearly meant something, but I wasn't really sure what it was.

"Career leader, outcast Careers, nice Career, gentle giant Career," as the timer buzzed and Yveaux – who looked strangely nervous and was hyping himself up in a mirror – left for his interview, I watched Roxanne count numbers on her palms. "Smart Three tween, nutjob," she watched Yveaux leave and said, "jokey Career who gives zero shits. We're really riling off the stereotypes this year. But watching these interviews I get a feeling that anyone could win. The odds feel up in the air. That scares me."

"You could win. Everyone wants in on that sequel."

"Maybe."

The Fours were seriously not to be underestimated. Lillee seemed too nice for the Games, Yveaux too lazy and indifferent. But their training scores begged to differ, and so did their interviews – Lillee knew exactly how to play a Capitolian audience and Yveaux, to my chagrin as he was a trained mercentary, was inherently just so damn likable.

Sometimes he appeared bored, but it added more than it detracted to his charm. He did a fake arm wrestle with Caecilius, letting Caecilius win. He sang – badly, but charmingly – Capitolian hits he had heard on the radio that he thought were fun. I smirked imagining the other Careers watching backstage, or perhaps tucked away in their own District quarters. They were probably not at all happy with this interview. Especially Rosario.

"Pretty, funny, charming and a trained killer," Roxanne said as he stood up and bowed to his final thunderous applause. It made Rosario's sound like polite clapping. "That isn't going to end well."

"Eyeing up the boys now are we?" I laughed.

"I'm all for equality," Roxanne smirked. "Even you heteros must know a good looking man when you see one?" That led me to blush and she laughed. "Typical."

"Okay, okay, leave me alone," I mumbled defensively.

When the Gamemaker called out the Five girl's – Alina's – name, the Nine and Eight girls, Tesni and Arabella if I remembered correctly, surrounded her. The Eight girl even sobbed slightly, clutching onto her ally as others watched awkwardly.

"You can do it, Alina! Don't worry!" Bella said.

Alina pulled away and got herself together, smiling as she made her way out of the green room. I glanced at Roxanne and raised an eyebrow.

"Bloodbath fodder?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Roxanne frowned a little. "Bella is putting on a front."

"A master manipulator?" I asked, which prompted Roxanne to shrug.

"It could be innocuous, we all put on fronts, she seems like the kind of girl in school who just wants to be liked and wants to use that to her advantage. I think she's doing that and applying it to the Games." A pause. "And you told me Alina was smart. Raleigh is stronger than your usual District fodder, I wouldn't dismiss him… Epsilon…"

"A Thirteen wildcard. We've never seen Thirteens in a Games before and don't know their usual skillset."

"The training score gave us an idea. I think Bella wanted a bodyguard or two, and she got one. The same way Percy and Arran needed a smarter tribute around to balance out their skillset."

Alina was quiet, but also possessed an immense likability. Who couldn't root for a plucky mechanic who was fighting to get home to the parents that were dependent on her income? She seemed scared, but smart and determined. I was beginning to realise that if this were a story – if I thought like Roxanne – she'd be the protagonist.

But weren't we all protagonists? I was fighting for my brother and my father. In my story, in my perspective, I was the protagonist who desperately needed to get home. No doubt countless of others were more than names and faces and had families they needed to fight to get home to. I couldn't mull on that reality much longer, because if I were to survive I'd personally need to cut one if not multiple of those stories short.

Roxanne had said it herself. This wasn't a story, however much the Gamemakers and people at home wanted it to be. This was reality, where situations were complicated and decisions had consequences.

I mulled on Alina's interview too much to not notice Xavier was now on television. His interview was probably going the worst so far, except for Syncis', but at least Syncis had an element of tragedy or of possibly mystique to him. Xavier was just responding to every question with two words maximum.

"Shit, I'm up," Roxanne said, taking a shot of some strong Capitolian alcohol left and checking herself in the mirror. Roxanne wasn't traditionally pretty for a girl, with her short hair and her tall stature, but her pantsuit – which had District Six's iconic railways imprinted across it – made her look good in a quirky kind of way. "Do I look okay?"

"You look fine," I smiled, keeping one eye on the television. Xavier was being grilled on why he had gone to prison, Caecilius was trying to probe for any interesting angle: was Xavier another Magnus Carmine? Did he bring with him an inherent destruction and lawlessness to the arena?

It seemed all he would bring was boredom. Xavier didn't bite. His interview was wrapping up and I didn't really know anything about him I didn't know before he was interviewed. I guess he'd at least told the Capitolian audience who his ally was and that he had one, but I doubt that would have pushed any Capitolian away from their money.

"Roxanne," I said as she made her way towards the Gamemaker who was calling out her name. She turned to me. "What Hunger Games stereotype am I? Bloodbath fodder?"

She surveyed me. "No. You're the useful and peppy sidekick," she smiled.

That didn't provoke the response I think she wanted when she saw my deflated expression. "In a game where only one can win, sidekick isn't the greatest position to be in," I sighed.

She smiled ruely. "We all know I like shock twists and to subvert the genre. I'm happy to help do it again," she said resolutely. She turned and left for the stage before she could see the wide grin that split my face. I don't think I had just found an ally in the Games, I think I had found a friend. I was willing to sacrifice myself to Roxanne despite everything, and I think that feeling was mutual on her end too.

Caecilius' announcement led to the largest applause yet, and Roxanne hadn't even made her appearance. For the tributes left in the green room, there was automatically an air of resentment. In the time that it took some of the less interesting tributes to go through the essentials of their interview, Roxanne sat down and smiles at her adoring readers as they cheered.

"Okay, okay! We get it! Enough!" Caecilius laughed. "You're very popular Roxanne."

"I guess people liked the book?" She smiled. There was a huge cheer. She liked this, I realised. She was playing into it. "I guess people didn't, then? And to think I was wanting to write a sequel…" She got an even louder applause.

"So there is one in the works? There's been a lot of speculation," Caecilius said. "I know I'm here interviewing you as a tribute, not as an author, but I guess the lines blur and we're dying to find out. I suppose some people will be dying for us to find out!"

Roxanne laughed, coyly letting a tuft of her red hair twirl around her finger as she looked at the floor. "A sequel Caecilius? Well… Yes, of course there will be," she laughed as Capitolians stood up and cheered, going absolutely crazy. I realised Roxanne had debatably created the headline moments of the Games. Roger Maxwell's daughter announced the incoming sequel she had planned was in the works.

"And it will still be Roger's story?"

Roxanne nodded. "Of course."

"But how do we know you'll live to tell it?" Caecilius asked seriously. "Your score wasn't bad, but perhaps people expected more of Roger Markwell's daughter."

"I know how to think like a Gamemaker, especially one as good and creative as Tobias Harte," Roxwell responded almost immediately to cheers. I realised some of the audience would cheer almost everything that she said. "Maybe I could even get one step ahead. I admit putting the theory to practice might have a few teething problems. But I'm a Victor's daughter. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope you do Maxwell," I sighed as I watched the interview, thinking of my father and of my brother Jiro. "I really hope you do."

Arabella Thern, District 8, 16

I hated for real crying. It made me feel stupid. It informed the world that somebody had gotten to me for real, and it didn't have any uses – although it was a small consolation prize if my for real crying could be used to emotionally manipulate anyone around me. But this time I just let myself cry in the green room's private bathroom.

The stakes felt all too real this time and if I fucked up I died. I couldn't fuck up. I had to get home and do everything I had lived for and built my reputation up for: get a good job, maybe even one that would get me that treasured permit to the Capitol. Find a hot husband. Be adored, wealthy and successful.

I saw my ruined makeup in the mirror and screamed in frustration, jamming my fist against the glass and watching cracks spill around the mirror. At least I hadn't cut my hand when I lashed out. I splashed a bit more water on the face and managed to collect my breathing. I was going to kill every single one of them.

But Roxanne had drew my ire in particular and I would make her suffer for it. She got an unfair disadvantage. And why she was popular because she'd written a crappy book was beyond me (trust me, it wasn't that great. I always followed trends and pretended to like the rag because other girls enjoyed it). But this wasn't a fighting match yet. This was a match of social skills and of pomp and tradition. And if I couldn't win that, what couldn't I win?

"A-Alina?" Tesni came into the room. I was a little embarrassed someone as weak as her even got to see me this way. Tesni wasn't really useful to have in my alliance – Raleigh was strong, Alina was smart, Epsilon was a fighter… Tesni was nothing. But she was easily impressed and easily manipulated, which in a way made her my valued asset. She would fight my corner in a way so that I didn't even have to. Tesni's persistently wide eyes saw the crack in the mirror. "D-Did you do that?" She stuttered.

"No," I lied defensively. "Must have been one of the Careers, you know what they're like."

"Yeah," Tesni smiled sadly. "Your interview is soon. You shouldn't be in here crying," I flinched.

"Who is on now?"

"The District Seven girl is out there," Tesni smiled. "T-The Six boy was okay. I mean, he's popular because he's Roxanne Maxwell's ally… and everyone wants to root for Roxanne, n-not for people like us."

"Of course they do," I said bitterly, turning around and feeling my voice crack. "I can't go out with my makeup like this."

"It's just a bit of eyeliner," Tesni said. "Your stylist really should h-have made it waterproof, god knows we need waterproof makeup," she said, rummaging through a few cupboards. "Thankfully for you makeup seems to be mandatory in Capitol bathrooms. I-I'm sure I could find something…"

"You know how to do makeup?" I asked the plain girl in front of me, who stooped down in search of makeup. She eventually found some.

"O-Of course," she smiled, standing up and brushing a ringlet out of my face. "Be still," she instructed as she began to brush the wand across my eyelashes. "I used to love wearing makeup. And my mother encouraged it at first – she liked girly stuff like that, and though I'm kind of a tomboy I liked it too, I liked speaking to people, making friends, flirting with boys… Then things changed. My mother said I wore it too much and looked like a whore instead of a wife… I…"

"You, popular?" I almost snorted. Tesni glared at me, but not because of what I said – she wanted me to keep still. "I would have liked to have seen that Tesni. What happened?"

"Things change," Tesni sighed, pulling away and using a makeup wipe to erase any signs of me having cried, before using a blender to cover over the tracks of missing makeup across my face. "We lost someone in our family. Not too close, but the effect on our business… My mother changed… And I guess my spirit broke… But the good thing is spirits can rebuild just as easily, right?" She smiled.

I surveyed Tesni briefly: her petite frame, her mousy hair and features. I was going to focus on breaking spirits much more than I was of making them.

"Thank you Tesni," I said – again, for real this time even if I hated it. "You're a lifesaver."

I linked arms with her and together we made our way back into the green room, which had gotten significantly more spacious. I made my way to our pocket of allies: Raleigh and Epsilon weren't speaking, because Epsilon didn't speak to anyone, but she hung around to let us know that she'd be there.

"Howdy," Raleigh smiled at us.

I glanced at the television. The Seven girl was discussing her philosophical beliefs, intriguing both the audience and Caecilius who kept probing her for more and more information. Despite her openness and the fact she loved chatting, I knew that she appeared to be holding back: what she spoke about seemed almost more like a religion than a value system.

Epsilon frowned. "She's tougher than she looks," she gave a rare verbal contribution, nodding to the Seven girl on television. Judging by her relatively sturdy physique, that intimidated me.

I honestly winged most of my strategy in the Games. I figured out how each of my allies were useful but had no long-term strategy yet of how I could best use them and then finally kill them so that I could come out on top.

But now it was the interviews. How could I stand out when most of the other tributes were in some way charismatic, tough, sympathetic or a combination of the three?

I had an idea.

"I'm going to be sick," I lied, rushing back into the toilet and locking myself into the cubicle just as the Seven girl left to applause and her kind faced District partner replaced her. I pressed my back against the cubicle – as expected, Tesni was concerned and followed me in.

"Bella? Not this again… w-wait… a-are you throwing up?"

I faked ragged breaths, sticking my fingers down my throat so that I gagged for real, though stopped short of letting myself actually throw up. Still, I think I looked shaken and sick once I pulled them out of my throat and opened the door to Tesni.

"I think I'm pregnant," I said. I'd actually never gone beyond kissing with a boy. But who was going to stop me from telling the lie?

"You – wait – what?" Tesni was lost for words.

"I'm pregnant," I said, pacing up and down slightly. "I hooked up with a guy a couple of months back and was stupid enough to not use any protection… and now I'm getting cravings… I'm sick… I think I've gained a few pounds in the past couple of months and I'm fat and oh… my…"

"Oh no," Tesni said, as worried as I am. "If you're pregnant you can't play surely… we should…"

"There were pregnant tributes last year and they let cripples play, what makes you think they'll stop?" I snapped a little more than I should have, but despite apparently having such a broken spirit I couldn't help but noticed that Tesni had somehow lived an even more sheltered and privileged lifestyle than I had. "Sorry Tes… I… I'm scared and don't know what to do…"

"Have you taken a pregnancy test?"

"I took one in my District quarters last night, I wanted to deny it could have possibly been real…"

"The Capitolian ads boast of nearly one hundred percent accuracy…"

"Arabella?" A blonde, cheery faced Gamemaker peeped in. "There you are. Hey. Look, Tamal's interview is ending. You need to be on stage soon."

I looked at Tesni gravely. She returned the expression of concern.

"Good luck," she smiled.

"I'll need it," I said, making my way out the cubicle and catching a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror that encapsulated the wall to my left. With my doll like features and my leather clad dress which made me look mature and kind of sexy, I knew in the looks department I wasn't letting anyone down.

All eyes were on me as I forced myself to sniffle, making my way to the stage with the Gamemaker.

"I'm Persephone by the way," the Gamemaker smiled at me, as if she sensed the nerves at what I was about to do. "I wouldn't worry about your interview too much. We Capitolians are very simple in what we want."

"Drama?"

"That or just compliments," she smiled.

"How is the Seven boy doing? I missed his interview."

"I can't bet! But if I could he'd be getting my sympathy credits," she giggled, sweeping into the direct backstage with me. I could see the glow of the spotlights. Other than empty corridors and spaces, there was nothing. And other than Peacekeepers trooping around with their big guns, I saw no one. "I mean, getting home to his loving boyfriend? And the whole thing about being disowned for being gay. You Districts are really cruel, who kills someone for who they love?" She saw my disapproving look. "Sorry. Also, I'm technically not allowed to not even have opinions. I will obviously be conducting the Games impartially."

I smiled sweetly at her but was imagining her face if I slapped her. It was time to show the Capitolians who the real queen bee was.

"Next we have District Eight's Arabella Thern!"

I put on my game face as I made my way onto the stage. I kind of enjoyed the screams from adoring and obsessive Capitolites, their sea of multicoloured faces and the flash of the cameras. I'd always wanted this kind of attention and recognition. It was too bad it came with, y'know, the nearly dying thing but I decided to enjoy what I had. I made my way to the screen, curtseying multiple times.

"Thank you, thank you, oh my Panem thank you!" I smiled, making my way to the interviewer chair. "Call me Bella by the way Caecilius, Arabella sounds so stuffy doesn't it!"

The audience cheered and I smirked, folding one leg over the other. Putty in my hands. I would like to see Mirane blocking any cash that came my way for playing the game she played and won a year ago after I was done with them. Just because I wasn't a stone faced bitch like she was didn't mean I couldn't beat her at her own game.

Caecilius almost read my mind. "So, our Eight girl! You have big shoes to fill, with Mirane being a Victor and such a wonderful one. What is Ms. Saffell like behind the scenes, up close and personal?"

"Oh my Panem," I put my hand to my chest excitedly. "She's wonderful," god I was going to be sick. I couldn't wait until I won and could tell Mirane exactly how I felt. "Tough, fierce, fun," I kept up my excited façade and blew kisses at the Capitolians who still cheered. I just needed the right moment to drop this bomb.

"You must pass on how we're all thinking of her, after the disgusting actions done by the rebels," Caecilius said, on a more serious note than usual.

I nodded. "I know. I'm sure we all agree that we can't feel too sorry for us tributes, right? Buster Saffell is alive and out there somewhere. I know it. We need to pray for him every day."

"You are connected to Mirane on quite a personal level too, right?" Caecilius said, sifting through what I imagined were detailed notes on tributes provided from the powers that be. I imagined the security services possibly knew some things about us we barely knew ourselves, and therefore in many ways Caecilius did too. "Your fathers work together. He is Mayor, your uncle Chancellor."

"Right?" I smiled. "So my Uncle makes the money, and her father spends it. Just like how I now make the money and Mirane spends it," I laughed. The Capitolians followed suite almost perfectly.

"And how is your District Partner? Is not not left out with you two having that connection?"

"Oh no, not at all," I said, forcing the bitterness out my tone with a stiff smile. "Mirane is a great mentor. She's very dedicated to us."

"And your Uncle, are you close to him?"

"Oh very, him and my father are like best friends," I said. "He's amazing. He gives me everything I wants, and so does my dad."

"And your father, is he in District Eight's government?" Caecilius was playing a game himself, trying to push me to give the answers myself. He knew exactly what my father did, and I appreciated him for locating points of interest for the Capitol to digest.

"He owns a clothing company, it's small, but we have a cult following in the Capitol," I smile. "So we're very comfortable and owe a lot to you guys!" Cue cheers. Persephone was right. 'Bread and circuses'; more like drama and compliments. I'd given them the compliments. The drama was just about to begin. "I wish he was here right now."

"What was it like in the Justice Building?"

"He is obviously devastated… I'm his only girl… his only child. I know my training score wasn't much Caecilius, but that won't stop me fighting. I have other skills too. I want to get home. I'll do anything… anything…" I stooped my head. Those watching better take note – that was my most honest moment.

"What would you like to say to him? Right now?"

Caecilius had given me the perfect opportunity. I had never forced myself to cry before. I tried to replay every sad moment in my head, forced myself to contemplate that I could be dead tomorrow, and thrust my head into my hands. As I sobbed, I felt Caecilius pat my shoulder in sympathy.

In reality my relationship with my dad was more complex. He did give me everything I wanted. But he knew what I was. I heard my parents worriedly discuss that they had spoilt me too much and that it was going to have consequences in adulthood. Far from making me too sheltered for the Games, I believed it had prepared me for them.

What was he going to think when I made this confession? He would be mortified that his innocent Bella would ever touch another boy – maybe I could explain to him it was an act. But how would the Capitol ever be sheltered from the truth? Maybe I would fake a miscarriage. How hilarious for the Capitolians if they sponsored me to protect a baby that would be in theory doomed from the start.

Whatever. I'd jump that hurdle when I got to it.

"Caecilius… it's… it's too much…" I moved my hands from my face and wiped my quasi crocodile tears.

"Come on Bella, we're here to support you, we're rooting for you!"

"Well Caecilius…" I sucked in some air. Why was I nervous? "I… I'm pregnant."

Raleigh Everett, District 10, 17

The Capitolian audience gasped and there was a moment of silence. The green room itself was completely silent. I felt my own face drop. I looked at Tesni who was herself tearful and Epsilon, who looked like she couldn't really believe what she was hearing.

"Oh shit," a Peacekeeper exclaimed.

After the Capitol finally comprehended that information, Caecilius started to probe Bella on the details. Epsilon stood up and was ghostly pale, not believing what she heard.

"She is excluded right? Being pregnant? She gets to go home and is replaced by an Eight girl who isn't pregnant?"

Everyone in the green room gave her that same knowing look. As Caecilius was noting on television, in the last year alone we had two pregnant tributes – which was rare for the Hunger Games, but it had happened multiple times before. It would happen again. It was happening again. I found myself shaking and my stomach turning. Caecilius tried to usher the conversation to something lighter – asking Bella about her love for fashion, her distaste for meat, anything but something so morbid. But Bella had already guaranteed headlines.

That wouldn't compensate for the fact there was another life at risk in the arena this year. How could I morally compensate for the fact I was pitting my life against a mother and her child?

"S-She told me about this," Tesni said tearfully, sitting down and running both hands through her mousy hair.

"We need to keep calm and carry on," I said resolutely, though my heart was screaming otherwise. I didn't like the look Epsilon gave me. We were all fighting for someone. That was a reason to keep our alliance close. Bella had been taken off the stage with morose tears and followed up by the District Eight boy, who talked about how he enjoyed playing Hunger Games with his friends, about his family and what subject he liked most in school. I don't think anyone was really paying attention.

"Surely we defend the child?" Epsilon stuttered, for once even more speechless than Tesni. For once, all eyes in the room seemed to be on our alliance and I didn't like it. I could almost see the mechanics whir in her head as she was torn between winning for her District and family and protecting the life of an unborn child.

"I mean, some Districts allow abortions, the Capitol does," I tried to justify. "I don't know… Is it even a life yet?"

"Of course it is," Epsilon snapped back at me. I bowed my head slightly, feeling a little ashamed.

"Tesni Rosette!"

I patted Tesni's shoulder and smiled at her sympathetically, which I think she appreciated. She made her way out of the room as Batiste finished his interview, he was putting on an act still but his shyness was still showing. He seemed particularly uncomfortable when Caecilius decided it was a good angle to ask him about Bella's pregnancy.

The Capitolian audience were as loud as ever but the green room was completely silent. Nobody spoke. The Thirteen boy, the Twelves and Elevens sat by themselves in complete silence, and Lily was perched next to the Nine boy she was allied with. When I glanced at her she smiled at me unsurely; I returned it.

"Bet you wish you were buddied up with her now," Epsilon muttered under her breath.

"No," I protested. "Unlike you, I wanted this alliance."

"Don't drag me into it and question my loyalty," she frowned.

On television, Tesni asked Caecilius to call her Tess. I noted slightly the impressionable girl was trying to follow Bella's interview template, which aside from the pregnancy thing was probably a good idea. Still, she stuttered and shook. Nobody in the Capitol was seeing a victor.

I wondered if she even really did like being called Tess. I had never asked her. Just like Epsilon – just like Bella, really – she didn't actually say much about herself. I imagine because she was too scared, but I still felt some instinctive distrust. I think Alina was the only person in the alliance I really trusted, who felt like she wasn't putting on some form of front.

"Do they let cripples on too?" Epsilon asked. Her guard was down. She was at once curious and horrified.

"They do."

"And the people who are sick in the brain… like the Three boy. Do they not draw a single line?"

"The Capitol are clear," I said, for the first time feeling the horror of the situation myself. I always felt the terror of the situation. The fact I was staring death right in the face and that the Games were – holy Panem – tomorrow. Now it was beginning to dawn on me that this was not fair. "The only people out of the Reaping pool are those under twelve and over eighteen," and even that was privy to change every Quarter Quell. Epsilon could learn about those later.

Tesni finished her interview with polite applause as Lily's District partner was escorted out the room. I kept an eye on the television, eager to see who Lily had decided would be a good replacement for me.

I hated to admit it, but watching Silas' interview I realised he was somebody I could've been friends with. He seemed kind, and full of good intentions, which sadly made him dead meat in this Games. He had a girlfriend back home, he liked to paint, believed in a god and liked drinking way too much – though had only ever been drunk twice in his life. These all felt like nothing, as words. But it betrayed that every tribute had a story to tell.

And where did I stand? I woke up, went to school, went to work and trained dogs for Peacekeepers, ate, showered every few days, went to sleep. We had famous authors, trained killers, pregnant women, nice guys. I felt like nothing.

"How did you meet your girlfriend?" Caecilius asked Silas. In the corner of my eye I saw the Peacekeepers whisper in Lily's ear: it was her time. I gave her a thumbs up, which she returned.

"Her friend was the District Nine tribute for the 201st Games," Silas smiled. "I knew her from friends of friends. They told me how upset she was. I wanted to make a statement – I think art is a good way to do that, making statements. So I did. I painted for her. She liked it, for some reason. We became friends. Then best friends. Then here we are…" He inhaled. "If you're watching this Julia I love you so, so much."

He could be dead tomorrow. Maybe I'd kill him. Maybe he'd kill me. I had no idea what lay in store, and the lack of knowing was the most terrifying thing. Lily made her way to the stage, sitting opposite Caecilius with that charming, modest smile. She was as likeable as ever, immediately talking about a Capitolian reality tv show she enjoyed.

"You up soon?" Epsilon asked.

"I am. You got a strategy for what you do when you get onto that stage? This whole interview thing must be new for you."

"I guess all I can be is myself," Epsilon concluded unsurely.

I didn't even hear anything the Gamemaker had to say before I knew it was my turn. Knowing this was the difference between life and death, I tried to ignore the potent feeling of my heart hammering in my throat as I made my way out into a pristine corridor.

We walked silently, armed Peacekeepers flocked around us, to the backstage. Lily was concluding her interview, morosely telling Caecilius about how she still had nightmares of her sister. I couldn't help but cynically note telling the Gamemakers what scared you was a recipe for disaster, but I had a feeling without us saying anything Tobias would take note.

The adrenaline somehow surged even more, reaching a crescendo when Lily got some decent applause for her interview. I straightened my tie – a cow printed one, which didn't seem fashionable to me – and cleared my throat.

"And here we have District Ten's tribute," Caecilius said. "He seems capable – but what else is there to him? Give it up for Raleigh Everett!"

I made my way out into the stage and was shocked by how bright and loud everything was. The Capitol had constantly seemed like a sensory overload – a kaleidoscope of sights, tastes, smells and noises – but it had just hit me.

I forced myself to sit onto the plush leather chair opposite Caecilius, trying my best to sit straight as Geonova instructed.

"Raleigh! You look… unimpressed."

"I can't really see anything to be unimpressed with," I replied instinctively. There was a polite laugh that Caecilius led. I supposed it was better than radio silence; I wasn't on the course to have the most disastrous interview of the tributes if this were a good night

"Bright lights, huh? Can somebody get Raleigh some sunglasses?" The audience cheered and I forced myself to chuckle along until somebody had literally been paraded around with a pair of sunglasses. I didn't want to – I played along for my own survival but to play along for real felt a bit like a betrayal, but I did laugh for real as I put the sunglasses on.

"That's better," I admitted.

Well, I did technically work for the Peacekeepers.

"So we've all been wondering Raleigh, what's with those scars?" Caecilius asked, almost drawing his finger over my hands and the more prominent one that traced down my right cheek.

"Um," I paused, lifting my hands and looking at the marks which left them calloused. It was just background marking to me – whenever I did get bit, I barely flinched. I forgot to other people, especially the privileged in the Capitol, my hands and face made me look a little threatening. Even though the facial scar was gained from a rather unremarkable childhood accident, I realised this is where lying came in handy. "I work with mutts. The cheek one is a particularly brutal incident. I had to fight it off me before it ripped my throat out."

"Oh wow!" Caecilius gasped. "So training mutts will surely be a useful asset in the arena?"

"Not those mutts Caecilius, actual mutts," I laughed. Although the Gamemakers did often put none altered animals in Hunger Games arenas – usually as background decoration, or at least food. "Dogs. Ever seen a Peacekeeper with a dog?" The audience cheered in affirmation and Caecilius nodded after thinking. "For all you know I could've trained it."

"But you do know to handle an animal?" Caecilius inquired. "I mean, that job must prepare you in some way for the Games."

My response was immediate: "I think growing up with my brother did that, Caecilius."

That prompted another laugh which made me smile. The whole being charming thing was easier than it looked. Maybe you really did need to be yourself – with terms, conditions and exceptions, of course. I was acutely aware I still was unremarkable compared to people who'd been trained to do this for years, but it was something.

"Do you have any other relatives?"

"My nana died last year, actually," I said to a sympathetic noise. She was old enough that I wasn't too upset – I was happy to have had her for so long. "So it's just me, my parents and my brother."

"Are you the responsible older brother?"

"I suppose," I smiled. I didn't want to think of Taylor – of anyone back home, my parents, my coworkers, but I did. For most people they were a motivation to get back home. But when I thought about them I just got upset. I cleared my throat. "I mean, he's always got some prank up his sleeve or is up to no good. But we're close. Real close."

"Any love interests? We have a few people this year fighting to get back home to sweethearts!"

"No," I admitted. One or two Capitolian girls screamed and I hoped my blush was concealed under the stuff the stylists had put on my face. I didn't consider myself particularly desirable, but I guess any Hunger Games Victor had some prestige to them. "Just my family and friends."

Caecilius surveyed me for a second. I can tell he was angling for a way to make me interesting so that sponsors could trickle those few extra credits into his wage. People saw Caecilius as a brand of nice interviewer – inspired by the old greats like Caesar Flickerman and Pesten Harris: the days of grilling tributes had once again fallen out of favour. But I surmised there was a cynical motive behind the niceness. There always was in the Capitol.

"What is your weakness, emotionally?"

"I suppose I shouldn't tell you that, Caecilius."

"The Gamemakers will find out anyway if they wanted to, with their teams of psychologists," the interviewer chuckled. There was a silence. People were watching me intensely. This was probably the closest Caecilius ever came to grilling.

"Sweets," I joked – but really, I wasn't lying.

"Surely you weren't disappointed by that aspect of the Capitol!"

I laughed. "No comment," I didn't want to be abrasive. "I don't want Capitolians to know I've been eating too much."

"It's well known tributes gain a little weight before they come into the arena! The Games gains. For most tributes, a few extra pounds is a good thing. Well, we are getting a little bit out of time Raleigh and there's still a few others to see. Quickfire questions?"

"Sure," I liked one word answers.

"Did you like Roxanne Maxwell's book?"

"I…" I paused. "I can't read very well," I admitted. There was a sigh from an audience who would never know the curse of poor literacy that was common across the lower Districts. Caecilius must have regretted making this a quick fire round, because it looked like he wanted more.

"Favourite colour?"

"Orange."

"Favourite fruit?"

I paused and laughed. "Oranges."

"If you had a million credits what would you buy?"

"A farm. And maybe a jetpack."

"Is Tobias Harte, in your opinion, the greatest Head Gamemaker of all time?"

"That is an answer that could cost my life," I smiled, evading the fact that I wasn't too interested in an old cultural relic and tabloid storm creator like the Hunger Games. The way I saw it, it was outdated, and while I appreciated the long holiday it provided, I didn't like that this long holiday was now a death match.

A buzzer sounded. "Ladies and gentlemen give it up to Raleigh Everett!"

I stood up and was about to leave but remember my escort advised that I bowed. I did so clumsily, feeling I'd done better than expected. Still, that nightmare was over. But the Bloodbath would be tomorrow. And there was the Bella situation. I guessed the tough part was just beginning.

Cassandra Diorite, District 12, 15

I hated that I thought in the way the Gamemakers wanted me to, but you were raised with these labels imprinted in your head: the Eleven kids were both Bloodbaths.

That's all they could be. Two nameless, nearly faceless kids who this time tomorrow morning would be lying dead in a field somewhere. Or maybe a desert. Or, knowing this Gamemaker, a fairytale wonderland. Mind you, it would be way after the Bloodbath by this point: they'd be in the morgue.

I suppose it was wrong for me to think of them like that. After all, Luke was just that boy who died in the early Games. There wasn't much else to him. He didn't fall in love, or make any friends, or show some spectacular character development. He was just there and he died – his killer went on to die and his allies went on to die.

They wouldn't know what a brilliant mind he had. It was not a mind that was suited to the Hunger Games or the cruel world of Panem. But if our father was better, if he had more hope, he'd have allowed Luke to unlock his full potential. He'd have been able to get a permit to the Capitol and would've made life better for us. He'd have made better for everyone.

I tried not to let the rage consume me. But it did every day. I wasn't a brilliant mind like Luke, but my mind was better suited to a place as cruel as Panem. It wasn't enough to guarantee my survival, but I'd survived so far and it was all I really had.

The District Eleven girl had been kind of gruff and blunt with the interviewer – but not even in a particularly charming or mysterious way that guaranteed sponsors, she just seemed cold, distant and uninteresting. Then there was the Eleven boy who looked sickly, weak and I quickly realised he had a strange obsession with death.

"Everything dies eventually," he shrugged at Caecilius' morbid question – was he afraid of the thing he had thought a lot about?

"This thing must be great for him," Arran said, throwing a grape in the air and popping it in his mouth. I turned to him with a scathing look. "His brother died and bam, he thinks about death every single day. Now he gets to experience it. And see a lot of it, assuming he isn't the first one to go."

I didn't say anything. It was interesting Arran and I sat close to each other, unlike other tributes I don't think either of us put much value into District loyalty, and a few seats were spread out between us. I sat here because it was tucked in the corner, and once his allies had gone I supposed Arran was there for the buffet.

The Thirteens, like us, didn't appear to be allies. Unlike us, there seemed to be a closeness between them. I wondered if they looked at me knowing I resented them with a burning hatred for what their hometown had done to my mother… to my family… to me.

And yet they just talked nonchalantly, whispering in each other's ears so Arran and I wouldn't catch their conversation. I wondered what they were talking about. I was one of the few in this arena who'd be going in completely alone, but strangely I felt I was the one who longed for human interaction the most. And yet I just stood on the outside, looking in and longing for something I once had.

"I guess you and Flori relate to one another?"

I tuned out, turning to Arran and scowling. "Huh?"

"The dead brother thing," he said nonchalantly. I bit back the sting and glared at him. "I don't mean it hurtfully. You're not like him. I observed you all through training and I don't know what the hell you're good at, but you seem competent. I'm not rooting for you to win, because I'm rooting for me, but you know…"

"You choose the day before the Games to not be a total sociopath?"

"Sure. I could be dead tomorrow. Might as well live today with no regrets."

I slicked my styled hair back a little bit, looking at my dress which looked like soot that drifted around me. "Well, thanks I guess."

"So what are you good at?"

"None of your business," I said.

"What have you been doing the last year?"

I glanced into Arran's eyes. They were detached, cold but definitely human. "I took refuge in the local bakers. They lost their son. I made keep working there. Amongst any other things an orphan in District Twelve had to do."

"You bake… I hunt in the forest…" Arran smirked. "It's like we're attending a gender bending fancy dress Hunger Games party! How about we smooch?"

"We've had two hundred years of Games and people in District Twelve are still obsessed with those two," I rolled my eyes. "I know we're District Twelve and we don't get winners much – hell, they didn't win the Quell – but c'mon."

"That's a no."

"There's plenty of other girls in your cosy little alliance with the Three and Seven girl," I folded one leg over the other watching the Eleven boy struggle as he tried to come up with a coherent Hunger Games strategy to give Caecilius. "And plenty of other guys in the arena if you're into that. What is the deal anyway? You seem like me. Not into the whole alliance thing."

"Alliances are in now," Arran said. "People want to see people lose their friends on screen."

"They're not your friends, though, are they?" I presumed

"No."

"I don't know your game, Arran Taron," I said.

"I don't know yours either."

The Gamemaker came into the empty green room, taking a while to find me amongst all the vastness. "Cassandra, it's your turn," she smiled.

I gave Arran one last strange look and made my way out, but not before he clasped my arm and looked at me intently.

"Most people just know you as the dead boy's sister, but I know you're more than that," he said. "Just make sure you get out of the Bloodbath. Look for animals, where there's animals there's water – and maybe people, so get what you want and get out. You'll find a way to wing it. I look forward to killing you around the final eight."

I wanted to say something witty, or angry or something that would give up Arran's game. I could only look at him coldly before pulling away and making my way out with the Gamemaker into pristine Capitolian corridors.

We walked in silence, my dress billowing around me. I had to admit District Twelve's stylist had done a good job this time round. But people who were watching were probably just wondering when the show would end or when there was an advert break so they could catch a snack.

As I arrived I could hear the familiar applause of the studio audience as Flori made his way off the stage, glancing at me once before he made his way out. In the background, Caecilius called my name and I made my way out onto the iconic Hunger Games interview stage.

I walked, distantly like I was in a dream, and sat on the couch my brother once sat on. It felt as comfortable as it looked, but I was experiencing that comfort in such a distant way, like an out of body experience.

"Cassandra! Do you like Cassie?"

"Cassandra," he smiled. "You have quite the familiar surname."

A projector behind us played a clip. I couldn't see it – thank Panem I couldn't see it – but that noise haunted me. The Four girl's (I daren't even think her name) almost gleeful noise as axe met skull and ended Luke's life. I winced, the image of her grin and of his body dropping like a sack of flour flashed through my mind. The audience showed their fake sympathy, but this was an audience that would've funnelled millions of credits towards that girl so that she could win.

"Can you tell us what went through your head in that moment?"

"Nothing," I said, trying not to let my lip tremble. "My brain stopped. My world stopped. It was just a world of pain. And it still hurts, every day."

Caecilius passed a tissue over, but thankfully I didn't need it.

"Luke spoke a lot about you when he sat on this very chair," he told me. "It does feel like we know you already. Our hearts really do ache for you."

What could I even say to that? Thank you? I just force a smile.

"What have you been doing in the past year? Goodness knows you've needed something to stay occupied."

"Work, survive," I realised I was probably giving off the same impression as the Eleven girl. I wasn't sure if I cared about that or not.

"Working as? Not in the mines, I hope…"

"No, in a bakery."

"Are you a good baker?"

"No, not really," I said honestly. "I'm starting to really master cookies. "Mrs. Nayl, the woman who owns that bakery, makes the best cookies I've ever tastes and I got the secret recipe." I realised it was possible a lot of Twelvers would go there to eat just at the mention of the bakery. Capitolians would report it in the press and try to order it. Cookie sales would go through the roof. I wasn't close to that family, but it was the least they deserved.

"Do you think you have what it takes to be victor?"

I didn't say what I really felt, which is nobody was really victorious in the Hunger Games. I stared at Caecilius, trying to figure him out the same way I had done with Arran a moment before. Caecilius was much better at putting on a front, but so much more open and easier to read.

"You watched my brother die on screen. But it wasn't your brother. It'd be like if you watched me die. It's sad, but it's distant. They're in another world, they can almost just be like fictional characters. But that was my brother," I said. "You've never received a letter informing you your father had died. You'd never woken up with your whole world – literally your whole world – crumbling around you. With your neighbours and mother eradicated amongst the rubble that you crawl out of. I was never tough like my father, or kind like my mother, or smart like my brother. But they're not here. And I am. I think that counts for something."

Caecilius was silent for a moment. I wondered if I was too confrontational – or too brash – or too little of something else. But the audience erupted into cheers and stood up, giving one of the biggest cheers of the night. I sat there, stunned and upset.

I think to them it was a show of solidarity. But it showed that they would never learn. It wasn't meant to be an entertaining monologue for them to consume. It should have been a call to change – these things weren't to be applauded. We had to make them stop. I couldn't do that, but every single person in the audience probably could have if they really wanted to.

The rest of the interview felt like an out of body experience. I had that one moment of shine to the Capitol, but I think the shine potentially went off with my half baked answers to everything thrown my way. I was thinking about how Luke used to tutor me, to have me be as good at school as he was.

"Dad might let you go to a good school instead of the mines," he said sadly, ruffling my dark Seam hair. "You'll be the one to get us out of here Cassandra. I know it."

An applause had derailed my train of thought. I glanced up at the strange faces before me and realised they were seeing me out. My fifteen minutes of fame were up. Now it would be fifteen days of torture. I forced myself to smile and made my way to the back of the stage, almost bursting into tears as soon as I was alone.

A stage manager strolled up to me with a forced smile.

"You can always go back to the green room, we do intend to have the yearly pre Games event within the next few hours," she said, attempting to straighten out her already immaculate hair. "But most of the other tributes have already gone to their quarters if you want t-"

I had already stormed away before she could finish her sentence, Peacekeepers accompanying me.

Aaah, on top of being busy a big thing that put off this chapter is I'm always so so nervous to do interviews. I never feel like I do them write and condense twenty-four interviews into a chapter.

… Yeah, the interviews kind of aren't over. You'll see the next few at the beginning of next chapter!

I've been gone a while. I don't know who is still around, but hi! I hope to use the toxicverse forums effectively and talk to you guys. Next chapter will be Friday after next – I'm hoping to use this time to write two of three other chapters in advance and start the weekly Friday tradition.

~Toxic

(It's nice to write that again!)