I'm in a room with my best friend's brother, a lady from the Capitol, and two of the most famous faces in District Two. Lyme Rabe is tall and stern, District Two's recognisable dark hair that sits at her shoulders. My mother's age, but that's where the resemblance stops. She's a fighter, a commander. You can tell in the way she holds herself, the way her eyes are hard and calculating. I remember seeing her Games in reruns, the way she orchestrated sophisticated battle plans in the arena, essentially changing the whole nature of the Games. And next to her, only a little taller than me. Enobaria Golding: my height, but smaller than me, more muscular and lithe. She has a reputation for cruelty, and when she smiles her pointed teeth glint gold. I resist the urge to shudder. Lyme and Enobaria scan me and Aries and I feel like I'm being looked at through X-ray vision. No-one speaks, not even Pippy.

"You're both volunteers." Lyme's words are heavy. I bite the inside of my cheek and Aries and I both nod. I feel like a liar. "Why?"

I look at Aries. He looks at me. He speaks first.

"I didn't want to be a Peacekeeper. If I win the Games, I won't have to be one." He reminds me of Orion, the way his chin juts out when he speaks, crosses his arms like he's prepared to defend his ground. The Victors - our mentors - shift their gaze to me. I thought I'd freeze, but I find I'm more prepared than I realised. My mind has already gone into overdrive, planning and looking for a way out, a way in. Ironically it's thanks to my father that I was almost born for this high pressure environment.

"I'd like to live in a nicer house. Ours is getting smaller the older I get. Also, I've always wanted to try the food at the Capitol."

Our mentors exchange a look. Lyme raises her eyebrows, just slightly, and Enobaria smirks. I feel my heartbeat getting faster, but I'm determined not to let it show.

"Here's what's going to happen." Lyme says in that deep voice, with the air of someone who has successfully done this a million times before. "I'll be mentoring Aries. Enobaria, Clara. Before dinner tonight, we find an angle for both of you, a strategy that makes you stand out to the Capitol. After the meal, we'll watch the Reapings."

Aries and I nod obendiately. It's not as if either of us are going to dispute Lyme's words, especially when she says them with the confidence and authority of a general at war. I turn to Enobaria who smiles too wide.

"Come with me, Larek." She says, lightly and teasingly, and I follow her down the corridor into an entirely separate room, one adorned with golden and red lounges, little glass tables and a television in the corner. Out the window, I can see the outskirts of our District move past in a blur, the setting sun casting a golden glow over my home. District Two is one of the last Districts to be Reaped as we're closest to the Capitol, meaning the Reapings we watch tonight will be reruns from earlier in the day. Enobaria makes herself comfortable on one of the seats like she owns the place, sprawling on it with some sort of arrogance that I know I'd never be able to mimic.

"How old are you?" She asks with a little nod of her head. I know she already knows this, would've seen me come out of the 16s section during the Reaping, but I answer anyway.

"16. Just."

She frowns. "That won't do."

I frown back. She laughs softly, more of an exhale than anything, but brings herself to look directly at me.

"Look, kid. If Caesar Flickerman asks you how old you are and you give him that '16, just' bullshit, then the Capitol is going to be snoring before your interview is even finished. So I'll ask again; how old are you?"

This is out of my comfort zone. I'm not necessarily a charismatic person with people I don't know, with people that I feel threatened around. I'm fine with Orion, and I enjoy chatting with the people of my hometown no matter who that be, but this is reminding me of an interrogation which reminds me of my father which makes me want to lie and run to a safer place. Deep breath, Clara.

"That's not a nice thing to ask a lady," I giggle. Enobaria scoffs.

"So we're going with the little-girl act now? I wouldn't sponsor you."

"I'm sixteen. It was my birthday at the start of the summer and Orion and I just ended up babysitting his little brother Dante for the whole day, but we had a cake at the end of it and swam in the lake."
"I didn't ask for your whole life story," Enobaria rolls her eyes. I grit my teeth, red hot frustration beginning to simmer. "And we both know that's bullshit. You're a terrible liar."

"I spent my birthday trying to convince my drunk father not to attack me and my mother with a knife. And then I cleaned up when he threw up on the floor. Happy?" I spit out. Enobaria smirks.

"Tell me about your father."
"No." I'm annoyed now, frustrated, the day catching up to me, tears threatening to fall.

"Why? Afraid of daddy-dearest? Well, he's not here now." She's taunting me, sing-song and cruel. I say nothing, biting my cheek, forcing myself to stay silent. 

"Let's talk through it. You grew up in a small town. Not poor enough to struggle but not rich enough to want. Daddy's a little mean sometimes. Mommy's used to it by now. You feel different, better than the people around you. You look at the mean-old mindless rich kids who brag about their training at the Academy and you look down on them. But there's something there. A little glimmer of jealousy, maybe? But no. No. You can't. Because the Clara that lives in her small town and who's best friend has a little brother and who lives by the lake is better than those mindless killing machines. She's learned from her father what unrestrained cruelty can do to a person. But, still it stays. Because you pretend to be happy with your little life, with your little friends, in your little town but deep down you know. You're District Two, Clara. None of us are stupid. We know that there's more to life and you know it and you're jealous of those kids at the academy with their training and their discipline and their drive. Deep down, you know that you could be better than all of them at their own Game, if you really tried. And now you have an opportunity. So try. Impress me. Show them all."

I hate her. I hate her. Every word is like poison from her mouth. I hate that she thinks that she knows me and I hate that she's almost right. I could be better than them. If I were born into a different life, a wealthier one, I could have been the best. With loving parents who encouraged my training and kept me safe and taught me the right things, I could've been the perfect Tribute. I can see it so clearly; Clara, from District Two, whose emotional spells actually help rather than hurt, who's ruthless at the right times but still keeps her likeability. Who was taught how to love people instead of being taught how to run away. Enobaria smiles at my silence, like her suspicions were confirmed. I can almost see her writing me off in her head, another faceless tribute who'll die without any skin off her back. The anger inside of me writhes, almost a tangible being that twists and wrings in my stomach.

"That girl." My voice sounds sharp, sharper than I've ever let anyone hear it. "That girl you were describing. She's interesting. If I were in the Capitol, listening to the story of a girl from Two who wanted so desperately to be part of that life, but was never able to. I'd root for her."

Enobaria smiles properly this time. Less malicious and more like I'm in on the joke.

"People love an underdog. Not a proper underdog, like those hopeless cases from Districts 3, or 8, or 12, but a respectable one. Whether or not you believe it - and I think you do - the Capitol wants you to want this. A girl from Two who has something to prove. It sticks."

I'm not sure if I am that girl. I might be. But what I do know with one hundred percent certainly is this: The Capitol loves a show, and this girl will give them just that.