We never really bathe in Twelve.

Yes, I do wash, obviously, but that's mainly in cold showers or with a cloth over the sink. The bathtub is rarely layed in.

So that's why when I'm dragged off the train and into some sort of 'washing and prep centre', I'm disorientated when a bath is waiting for me.

But not just a bath.

Umbeknownst to me, every tribute gets assigned a 'prep team' to help them get ready for the games, as well as a stylist, who plans all your outfits.

I haven't met my stylist yet, but my prep team consists of two women and a man. Venia, Ocatvia and Flavius. And together, these three bathe me, shave me, wax me, cut my hair, pluck my brows and clip and file my nails.

They're just cleaning up their equipment when I hear Flavius talking to Venia, a weird expression on his face.

I frown. "What's that?"

Flavius smiles at me, but it doesn't quite stretch to his eyes. "We're just saying we might need to hose you down again before we take you to Cinna."

Cinna, I ponder, as they continue to talk. He must be my stylist.

I'm not looking forward to meeting him. The stylists for the games are all very much like Effie, in their over the top ways and fancy frilly interests. And I have no desire to be dressed up as Effie Trinket for the whole nation to see.

So, as I lie on a bed in an empty room, waiting for my stylist to show, I'm not feeling hopeful.

But I really shouldn't care. It doesn't matter how embarrassing my outfits are on TV if I'm going to be dead in a week.

So I don't jump when the door opens.

"That was the bravest thing I've ever seen."

Okay, not what I was expecting, I think, as I look at the man coming in. I instantly flush slightly at the way I stereotyped him.

Because Cinna doesn't have a wig, or coloured eyebrows, or anything remotely Effie Trinket-like. In fact, he is an ordinary man, in a nice jumper and trousers, with only a single earring to adorn his face.

"With your sister," he clarifies, as I sit up. He extends his hand and I shake it. "My name's Cinna."

"I'm Sage," I say, because I instantly feel as though this man is an ally.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you, and I'm here to help you in any way I can," Cinna clarifies, as he sits down in a chair next to my table.

I stare straight back. "Most people just congratulate me."

"Well, I don't see the point in that," Cinna says honestly, and I instantly feel more comfortable.

He sighs. "So tonight, they have the Tribute Parade. They're gonna take you and show you off to the world."

I know about this part of the games. The tributes ride chariots through the Capitol right up the street to the president's palace, and it's the first time the crowds in the Capitol and the sponsors will get an impression of us. The only thing is, the tributes have to wear costumes based on the industry their district represents.

So for Twelve, that's coal mining.

And the past outfits I've seen have been... interesting.

I tilt my head slightly. "So you're here to make me look pretty?"

"I'm here to help you make an impression," Cinna corrects. "Now, usually, they dress people up in clothes from their district-"

"Yeah well mine's coal miners, so good luck with that," I mutter.

"-but I don't wanna do that," Cinna finishes, looking straight at me. "I wanna do something that they're gonna remember. Did they explain about trying to get sponsors?"

"Yeah, but... I piss people off too much to make friends," I tell him.

Cinna chuckles lightly. "We'll see. I just think somebody that brave shouldn't be dressed up in some stupid costume, now should they?"

I stare at him for a second, wondering how I got so lucky.

Them I whisper. "I hope not."

☦︎☦︎☦︎

Cinna's idea was simple. Because what do people use coal for?

Fire.

The Tribute Parade is almost up and running, and it's the first time I get to see the other tributes.

We're all waiting with our stylists for the chariots that we ride in to be prepared. I quickly scan the room, because this is the only time before training that I'll get to see them.

The girl from Five is red headed, looking perceptively around like I am. Foxface, I instantly think to name her. Then I see the boy from Eleven, who is big and muscly, and one of the favourites to win I think.

The girl from Eleven I stop to look at, because she's so tiny. Just by looking at her, I can see she's no more than twelve years old, and despite her dark skin and big brown eyes, she reminds me heavily of Prim.

And then my gaze shifts to the careers.

These are the tributes from One and Two, and sometimes Four, though it doesn't seem like that's happening this year as both of them are twelve to fourteen.

The girl from One is blonde and flirty and is smiling widely at everyone, flashing her bright white teeth. Her district partner, the boy from One, is lean and slender and has a permanent smirk on his face.

The girl from Two looks lethal. She's pale skinned, brown haired and frowned faced. I can instantly tell she's been raised to volunteer for the games, like they often are in Two. She's wearing a very golden outfit, as Two work in weapons, so I should be able to find her partner pretty-

I falter.

Because I do find her district partner pretty easily, and it's like I've fallen head first into the ocean.

The boy from District Two is blonde haired, blue eyed, tan skinned, and muscle armed. He's looking straight at me, his blue gaze piercing into me, but somehow I can't bring myself to look away.

His eyes are about fifty thousand shades of blue, all mixed together. Considering the only blue eyes I've ever seen are my mother and Prim's pale ones, I'm absolutely shocked at how a person can have such a colour in their eyes. It looks absolutely beautiful. He looks absolutely beautif-

"Alright, you two, you ready?" Cinna says beside me, and I startle and jump out of my daze.

Stop it, I tell myself. You'll be dead in a week anyway.

I sigh, trying to tune myself back into my task and what I have to do.

Jasper and I are dressed in pitch black outfits, mine a tight dress and his a full bodysuit. They are going to, however, get set 'on fire' in the chariot.

"It's not real fire, I promise," Cinna tells us. "These suits are built so you won't feel a thing."

"Looks pretty real to me," Jasper comments.

"That's the fucking idea," I mutter, scuffing the ground with my foot.

Cinna pretends not to hear me as he asks. "You ready? Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," I tell him honestly, my eyes boring directly into his.

The crowd in the Capitol has gathered now, all along the avenue, and at the end of it, President Snow will be waiting. Now, I'm not a particularly empathetic or compassionate, but I pale in comparison to him, who orchestrates the death of twenty three innocent children each year, and so many more in the poorest districts, such as Twelve.

We get into the chariots as they're lined up, Jasper's and mine at the back. I climb up into it with Cinna's help, and he gives me one last squeeze of the hand before letting me go.

"Right," he tells us. "Get ready."

And then, he sets us on fire.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

The crowd roars deafeningly as the chariots roll out, the careers at the fore. I crane my neck ahead to see them, waving around at the crowd and grinning. They look happy to be here. Pleased, even.

We're the last out, and the District One tributes have already made it halfway down the avenue by the time we get out.

But by the way the crowd almost goes silent for a second before dissolving into cheers again, I hope they're liking it. I know this is being broadcast, and it's the first time Prim, Katniss and Gale are going to see me since the goodbyes, but I can't bring myself to play the game.

However, it doesn't look like I have to. The crowd is going crazy, and they're pointing at us. And all because we're in black costumes with fire blazing out the back of them.

I feel a pressure on my hand and I snatch it away, my eyes going straight to Jasper.

"Come on, they'll love it," he tells me, smiling easily.

I look at him scathingly.

"If you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll kill you," I snarl. "And you fucking know why."

Roses are soon getting thrown at us. Roses of all colours; red, white, blue, purple. Some land in the chariot, some on the road, some on the horses. I appreciate the support, though.

They're liking me. They're actually liking me.

But will they like me enough to save my life?

We reach the end of the avenue soon; a huge roundabout dead end that the chariots ride round, stopping at regular intervals all around it, but all staring up in one direction.

President Snow.

He's standing up high, black suit seen clearly against the pale stone of the balcony he's up on.

I decide I hate him even more in person.

He's old. Very old, in fact, due to how he's been ruling Panem for over sixty years. His hair is all white, and his face is heavily wrinkled. His clothes, however, are perfect and pristine, and in that moment I notice a single white rose hanging out his pocket.

As the chariot stops, the fire on our costumes does too. I sigh a breath of relief. It's over. The first test.

Snow waits until all the clapping is finished before speaking, his voice amplified by the microphone on his suit.

"Welcome!" He calls, his voice echoing all the way down the avenue. "Welcome! Tributes, we welcome you! We salute your courage and your sacrifice!"

The crowd claps, but I just stare at him, anger flowing all throughout my veins.

"And we wish you Happy Hunger Games!" Snow continues. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

As the crowd claps, the sound ricocheting all around, I try to act normal. I try to laugh, I try to smile, I try to look like I'm enjoying this.

But inside all I'm thinking is, yeah fucking right.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

Soon, we're taken into what is called the 'Tribute Centre', which is where we'll spend the next week preparing for the games. Inside, I know there to be training rooms, an interview auditorium, and bedrooms for all twenty four tributes. We get treated like luxury. Well, before we die.

But right now, we're not in the bedrooms, or the training room. We're in the massive area downstairs where we're meeting our mentors, escorts and stylists, then we'll get taken up to our rooms.

Jasper and I stand in a very awkward silence before Cinna, his stylist, Portia, Haymitch, Andrew and Effie come rushing towards us.

"That was amazing!" Cinna grins.

"Ahh, we are all anybody's going to be talking about!" Effie grins.

"Hopefully all good things," Andrew adds, grinning as well.

"So brave," is all Haymitch says, slightly slurring his words as he looks at me.

"Are you sure you should be so near an open flame?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Fake flame?" Haymitch smirks. "Are you sure you-"

But he stops abruptly as his eyes catch on something above my head. I frown, turning, to see that boy again, the one from Two with the blue eyes. He's staring, his eyes narrowed, straight at Jasper and I, his jaw locked tight.

Only this time, I'm not surprised. I stare back, my own jaw locking as our eyes pierce each other's. And I'm drowning, I'm going to have to look away first, shit-

But he does. He turns to his district partner, spitting a few words, no doubt about us, to her, and then his body shifts completely.

I see another few looks at us. The girl from One looks livid, and so does the boy.

I'm not surprised. The tributes from Twelve almost always have terrible costumes, and are nothing of a threat towards the careers.

But this year, Jasper and I have stolen the show, and no doubt we will be more memorable in sponsor's minds tonight than them.

"Let's, uh, let's go upstairs," Andrew jumps in, speaking wisely. I sigh, dragging my eyes away from the blonde boy and starting to follow him, ignoring Effie's pleased little whoops along the way.

"So, each of the districts gets their very own floor, and since you're from Twelve, you get the penthouse! Oh, it's amazing..."

She does garble a load of waffle, but she is right about the penthouse flat.

It's unlike anything I've ever seen before.

"Come on!" Effie says, walking ahead of us with her heels clipping on the polished marble floor. "So, this is the living room, I know, I know! And this..."

I drown out Effie's voice as I stare around the room in shock.

It's huge, and most of it is empty, as well. In the centre of it lies a huge dinner table filled with glasses and cutlery and surrounded by fancy green chairs. Above it hangs about three chandeliers and more lampshades, and around it stand servants. Actual servants.

"Now, your rooms are over there," Effie points to an exit across the room. "Why don't you go and clean yourself up a bit before dinner?"

☦︎☦︎☦︎

My room is no different. It's very large, with golden statues all around in shiny glass cabinets and a fancy chandelier hanging above.

The bed is at the back, and it's fancier than any bed I've seen. It's in a sunken bit of the floor, and it's more than double everything I've ever had to sleep on in my life. The covers are blue velvet and yellow cushions lie at the top

It's luxurious. It's like nothing I've ever seen before.

I slowly walk to my bed, looking around the room as I sit down on it. The velvet is soft and lovely to touch. The bed is comfy, nothing like the straw mattresses in Twelve.

I'm sitting opposite the window, and looking outside it right now, all I can see is buildings, lights twinkling in their windows. They stretch almost as tall as the one I'm in, and go way out over the city. My stomach curdles with how rich a life Capitol people live, and how sick they must be to enjoy watching the deaths of twenty three children each year.

I look to the table beside my bed and see nothing on it except for a weird sort of remote. I pick it up, frowning at it as I turn it in my hands before slowly pressing it.

At first, I don't think anything has changed, but then I look back to the window to see that it has.

Instead of the real scene, the one of the city, it shows a street with many people walking up and down it. Capitol people, laughing and smiling and having no idea how lucky and fucked up they are.

I slowly press the remote again, the window scene changing now to a wasteland, with dead trees and dirt ground.

Then I press again.

And the scene changes to that of a woods. High stretching trees, grassy bushes and the sort of ground that would be amazing for concealing a hunter's tread.

I feel my heart ache as I stand up, not knowing what to do. I miss the woods more than anything. Hunting in them with Gale, being able to run to them when I felt scared, and being able to feel free when inside them.

I'm walking towards the window before I know it, standing close to it and fighting against the tears stinging my eyes.

Then I press the remote a final time, changing the scene back to the Capitol and slamming it down on the table.

I don't need another reminded of everything I've lost.