I suddenly feel very lightheaded. Spruce Helmsworth? Spruce? No! It can't be!

The room seems to be suffocating me. I struggle to stand, then shakily run to my room. I can just imagine what Juniper and Blaze are talking about right now. Probably about me, and how rude and disrespectful I am. I don't care! I don't care for them one bit!

I fumble with the doorknob, then finally push it open.

I feel so dizzy right now. I can hardly stand. My stomach starts to make a gurgling noise. I think my dinner is about to make a reappearance. I knew I shouldn't have eaten so much of that rich food! I crawl to the bathroom on my hands and knees, fearful that if I stand, I will pass out.

I get to the toilet, luckily, and force it open. I close my eyes while the wild rice, fruit, and chocolate pudding reappear. When I'm done retching, I lay the lid back down on the toilet and flush.

The thirteenth Hunger Games. I, along with my best friend, Spruce, are entered. One, out of twenty four tributes, will come out alive. Not me. No. I won't be that tribute. Maybe Marsh was always right. Thirteen is an unlucky number.

I get myself to my feet and pull myself up to the sink. I gargle some warm water in my sour mouth, then spit it out. When I'm finished, I slowly walk to the large wooden wardrobe, and pull it open. These clothes that I have on are drenched in cold sweat. I pick out a solid purple shirt and brown stretchy pants. I put them on, and make my way to the bed.

Feeling somewhat better, I pull the warm covers over my shaking body. I close my eyes and actually smile when a pleasant memory comes to my mind.

It was freezing outside, the dead of winter. I sat in a tree, my teeth chattering. I was outside the District, hunting for my family.

I was only seven, but my little hands clunched a pointed throwing knife. I was desperate to bring something home to eat. We hadn't eaten in who knows how long. All I could focus on was the pain clawing at my insides. I kept having to steady myself in that old oak tree, for if I lost my balance I would plunge about thirty feet and get found by a wild animal, or even a Peacekeeper.

Suddenly, a snowy white hare bounced below me. I narrowed my eyes. I took a deep breath, and forced myself to focus on the prey beneath me. I took aim and threw the small knife. It lodged itself right in the hare's neck, but not before a dagger pierced its stomach.

Bewildered, I peered closer. Suddenly, a boy, that looked about nine appeared. He removed his dagger from the hare and flipped it over. He looked surprised as he saw my throwing knife inside its neck. He shrugged and removed it. He started to pick up the hare, to place it in a bag, which seemed to have held another piece of venison.

Enraged that he was stealing my catch, I slid down the icy tree trunk, and stiffly walked near him.

"What do you think you're doing?" I said, trying to sound intimidating. The boy raised his eyebrows, looking slightly amused. "I'm just about to gut this rabbit I caught." He shot back.

I tried to ignore the angry pangs of hunger inside of me, growing more severe. I took a shaky step closer, "That's my catch, " I pointed to the throwing knife he was holding, "See? That's mine."

The boy looked disbelieving, "I don't think a little girl like you should be out here. Don't you know there's wild animals around here that could swallow you in one bite?" He shook my knife in front of him, almost teasingly, "Isn't this a bit too dangerous for a little girl?"

Determined to get my catch back, I pulled out my other knife, which happened to be my last, from its sheath, and aimed at a crack in a maple tree. I let the knife fly, and I watched as it lodged right next to the aimed spot.

I turned back around to the kid, "Little girl, huh?"

He looked like he was trying to hide surprise. The boy even dropped my knife he had been clutching. He stepped towards me and stuck out his hand, which held the rabbit. I let a small gasp escape me, then I snatched the kill.

The boy chuckled, then held out his other hand, "I'm Spruce. Spruce Helmsworth."

I open my eyes, and the sweet memory disappears. I stare at the pale yellow ceiling, thinking about everything that has happened today. I volunteered to be sent to my death, I had the best meal of my entire life, and I found out that my best friend was going to die right beside me. This has officially been the longest day in history.

I pull the covers closer, snuggling deeper.

"Tomorrow I'll be at the Capitol." I think with a shudder. "I wonder what they'll do to me?"

I push the horrid thought aside, and roll over onto my side. I can't believe my best friend is going into the arena with me. The though sickens me, but I somehow feel a bit better about being entered in the Hunger Games. At least I'll have someone I can ally with.

My eyes pop open. Ally! I'll have an ally in the Hunger Games! I won't be alone!

"We might even have a chance at winning!" I think, my heart beginning to flutter.

I suddenly feel stronger. I feel I twinge of hope dancing inside of me. Yes, I'll probably be the smallest tribute in the arena, but I'll have my best friend with me! We can watch each other's backs. We can fend off any tribute, Career or not. With all of those years practicing, and sort of training together, we know how to fight.

I never realized that all of those years would be preparing me for the upcoming days. All I knew was that I was releasing some of the bitter anger I had stored up inside me.

I just hope that I can get my hands on a knife or a bow. Or possibly both. If there's a sword near me, I'll grab it, and give it to Spruce.

Suddenly, a terrifying thought drifts into my mind. Only one can come out. One. Spruce and I make two. If we, which is very unlikely, but possible, are the last ones in the arena, we'll have no choice but to kill each other.

I shake my head. "No. I would never kill him. And I know he would never kill me too."

I pull the covers tighter. I feel my eyelids beginning to droop. I really am tired. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to bring another good memory to mind. None come.

Instead, my dreams are filled with horrifying images, of Spruce and I battling to the death.