Brief reminder that none of these characters (except the mentors) belong to me. The ones from Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus are Rick Riordan's, the Harry Potter ones are J. K. Rowling's, and the School for Good and Evil peeps are Soman Chainani's. That's all!

        This is... abnormal. I'm sitting on a velvety couch in the body of a twelve-year-old talking to a random guy I've never heard of who apparently is in the same situation I am. Also, where am I? Panem's not in the Endless Woods, is it? It must be a Never kingdom, what with its child-slaughtering and all. But even Nevers know the importance of children. I don't think Sophie or even Hester would make children kill each other. It's an awful idea. That's why I volunteered. I still don't quite understand the whole Hunger Games thing, but no way was I going to let that little girl die. The Percy Jackson guy is staring at me funny, like I'm a piece of a puzzle, and he's trying to see where I fit. At last, he speaks.

    "I've heard about you. You're from the School for Good and Evil series, aren't you? I haven't read it, but I've heard some of the Aphrodite girls talking about it. If I ever get out of here, I'll read it, along with the Hunger Games." This makes no sense. My story is called the Tale of Sophie and Agatha, not the School for Good and Evil. And I've never heard of a fairy tale called the Hunger Games. Though I suppose that knowledge would come in handy at the moment. And where is Percy Jackson from? I've never seen him in Gavaldon, but he must be some sort of Reader. 

    "What kingdom are you from?" I ask. For some inexplicable reason, he looks confused.

   "Uhh.. America, I guess. But it's not a kingdom, because we don't have a king. Or a queen. We have a president. Why?"

  "Nothing." We sit in silence before some white-clad men take us to a train. I am led to my own private quarters where I find an outfit prepared for me laying on top of a bed. It's a white shirt with long sleeves made from some sort of fluttery fabric, and black leggings. I put it on. It's quite comfortable, and it makes me think of Sophie. I hope she's okay. I wonder what she looks like. I look like a twelve year-old girl with long brown hair and sun-tanned skin. It's weird, not looking like yourself. But I suppose that's obvious. I exit my chambers and knock on Percy Jackson's door. If we're both in the same situation, we need to find out why. He walks out, dresses in a similar outfit to me, and together we head off to the dining compartment.

    We're not alone. A tall woman in her late twenties and a forty-something guy are waiting for us at a table. The woman stands up. "Hello. I'm Claire. This is Lawrence. We're here to help you survive. We're not gonna be real nice either, so don't expect anything else of us. We're not here to be your friend. Clear?"

   "Crystal" I hear Percy Jackson mutter. 

  "What was that?" Claire asks.

  "Nothing ma'am." Percy Jackson says. He sounds sarcastic. I think I like this Percy Jackson guy. He seems decent, for someone so far away in the Endless Woods. I don't think America is one of the hundred Ever/Never kingdoms, so it must be beyond them. 

    "Alright squirts, sit down and eat your food. Don't get too comfortable with each other either, 'cause next thing you know you'll be fighting to the death. Lawrence and I'll leave you alone while you eat, but after, you come right to the lounge car and we talk business." And with that, the two of them strode out of the dining car. 

   Now that they're gone, Percy Jackson and I can dig in. The food is wonderful. Lamb stew, fruit salad, hot chocolate, and many other things make up our meal. We eat in silence, too busy trying everything to speak. Soon, the both of us are stuffed, and together we make our way to the lounge car. We've been on the train for a while now, and through the hall windows we can see the sun beginning to set. We reach the lounge car, and find ourselves seats on the plushy couches.

   Claire and Lawrence take one look at us and glance at each other, shaking their heads. That doesn't seem fair. They don't know what we've done in our previous lives (and I speak for myself, I have no idea what Percy Jackson's done). Claire stands up.

  "So. First thing you need to know about the games is that winning isn't necessarily all about how much of a murder weapon you can be. Yes, it's helpful, but you need to have the people on your side. Create a compelling story for yourself, and you have the Capitol tripping over themselves to sponsor you. And sponsorship matters. You think you can just strut into the arena and fight it out without sponsors? No. 'Cause then your opponents are gonna be all stocked up on food, water, and maybe even weapons while you die of thirst on day three. You'll be interviewed in a few day's time, which'll give you a bit to think out your angle. Play to your strengths. Got that?" She said.

    "Got it." I responded. Percy Jackson nodded. I already had an idea for an angle. I wonder what Percy Jackson's would be. 

    "Another thing. You know about the training sessions, right?" The blank stares we gave Claire told her all she needed to know. "Great. I get the featherheads. The training sessions where you, I dunno, train for the games? Yeah. Those ones. There'll be a bunch of different stations, like archery, knife-throwing, knot-tying, all that good stuff. Don't go straight for the fighting stations. You have to pay just as much attention to the survival skill ones. Otherwise you'll eat a poison dart frog thinking it's a squirrel, from the looks of you two. After a bit of training, you're gonna have a one-on-one session with the Gamemakers, where you gotta show 'em everything you've got. You'll get a score ranging from one to twelve. Twelve being amazing, one meaning you can't squish a bug. That number is gonna either be your best friend or your worst enemy out there, and it's gonna be big as far as sponsors. So train hard."

      "Miss, uh, Claire?" Percy Jackson says, "Won't the others see our strengths, then? If we practice in front of them?"

  "Well then don't practice in front of them," is her response. "Now go to your compartments and think on what I said. Tomorrow we reach the Capitol, and you'll meet your stylists. Do what they tell you. Even if you don't like it, it'll be a whole lot worse if you don't go along with it. Goodnight squirts." She waves us out of the lounge car, and we head back to our compartments together.

  "Percy Jackson," I say, "How are we going to find our friends?"

  "I dunno, Agatha. But we need to figure it out. If we're anything to go by, they don't look or sound anything like themselves. And with our luck they'll be in the Games, too. So we need to find them before we all kill each other. Gods, if I killed Annabeth without knowing it's her... We have to find them soon. Oh, and you don't have to call me Percy Jackson, just call me Percy."

   From the tone of his voice, he's just as scared as I am: what if our friends die because of us, and we don't even know? The thought of losing Sophie... No. I can't afford to think like that. We'll find our friends and a way out of here before it comes to that. We have to.