WHEN I GET BACK to the fifth-floor living quarters, Liam isn't there. Licinia perks up and asks how my session went but, after muttering a vague reply, I head to my room. I'm sweaty, I want to shower, but I know that Liam will probably be doing more hand-to-hand training with me; this may be the Capitol, but I still don't want to waste water like that. And I'd just about rather pull my own eyes out than watch another romance movie.

Seated on the edge of the bed, I lie down on the fluffy comforter and wonder how many other Tributes have spent their last days in this room, afraid, despondent, perhaps resigned to the enevitability of their death.

Only two more days; two more days until I'm thrown into the Arena, two days that I get to be myself, and not some character that's been created for me to be. In the week between the Reaping and the Games, each day has seemingly lasted longer than days usually do. But looking back on them, they seem to have slipped away so quickly-if that makes any sense.

Running my fingers in lazy circles over the silky bedspread, I wonder if Old Mae is glad to be rid of me, or if she and that horrid man of hers miss the small bit of money and tesserae I brought in. My mind wanders to the kids of the group home, the Tracers, and finally, Jael; the closest thing I ever had to a friend. He was a ladies man and notorious flirt; but deep down, he really did have a good heart. He formed the Tracers as a way to protect the kids of the neighborhood and to keep them out of trouble. He always wanted to protect people.

Hmm, funny how I'm thinking in past tense.

I could be dead three days from now.

Rolling over onto my side, I grab a pillow and curl my body around it. No matter how much I eat, train, or practice my acting skills, the reality remains that kids are going to start dying soon and I may be one of them.

I wonder how I'll die?

Just then, a knock sounds on the door. With a sigh, I roll over.

"Who is it?"

"Liam."

I sit up and try to look presentable. "It's unlocked."

The door opens and Liam enters, looking tired and somewhat worn. Immediately, my suspicions are aroused.

"Where've you been?" I ask, frowning.

"Places," he answers. He blinks and gives himself a small shake. "Tell me about your session."

I shrug. "Nothing much to report unless you know anything much about parkour. I did the best routine I could come up with, threw some knives, and managed to-mostly-keep their attention." Move to get up from the bed. "Sword time?"

Liam stands. "No," he says wearily. "You have the afternoon off. Do what you like."

With that, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I stare at the closed door in bewilderment, wondering what on earth is going on. Why is my mentor acting so strange?

But then my mind latches onto those last four words.

"Do what you like."

I glance at my watch; I've got a couple of hours until the scores are anounced. But what would I do? I mean, I've spent the last few days commiserating over the fact that Liam and the Capitol control everything I do; but what do I want to do?

Easy: Walk out of here and never look back.

But that's obviously not happening.

Then another thought strikes me. All I have to do to get to District Five's quarters is hit the right button and walk in. Theoretically, couldn't I do the same for another District's quarters? Couldn't I, say, pay Marin a visit?

Well, I guess I could; but I don't even want to think about how much trouble I could get into if I get caught. I could head up to the roof; perhaps he'd be there.

I order a bunch of weird-sounding food from the magic-mic in the wall and when it arrives, I take it up to the roof for a picnic, using the elevator this time instead of the stairs.

On the roof, I have a leisurely meal, sitting at the edge of the garden overlooking the city and listening to the sounds from below. The Capitol is an abomination; but even I can admit that the city is beautiful as I stare out over the shining and colourful buildings.

I finish the food and sit around for some time, but Marin never shows up so I head back down to my room, where I order ice cream and sit on the bed eating the stuff-even though by this point I'm just about sick of food.

Eventually, Licinia rouses me from my gluttonous sloth with a knock on the door and the anouncement that it's nearly time for the scores to be anounced.

Taking what's left of my ice cream with me, I saunter into the sitting room and take a seat on the couch between Liam-who is back to his old self-and Julinia, who is her usual strange and catlike self. At some point, Padraic and Ciaryn come in and take a seat on the far end of the couch. Idly, I wonder what talents Padraic might have. Annoying someone to death?

Interrupting my train of thought is Caesar Flickerman, his hair, eyelids, and eyebrows a glittering-gold as he over-cheerfully rambles on about this year's exciting batch of new Tributes and how entertaining this Games promises to be.

Yay.

Finally, he gets around to reading the scores.

The Careers get predictably high scores; Carnelian pulling a ten and both Tributes from Two pulling nines. District Three's scores are predicably low: a three and a four for the girl and boy respectively. Then comes District Four; Corina manages a five, then Liam and I both lean forward as Caesar prepares to read Marin's score.

"Marin Attesee," Caesar pauses, looking up at the camera, "with a score of nine."

Some of the tension within me releases. Marin did well; I knew he would.

I barely have time to breathe before Caesar's moved on.

"From District Five, we have Akira Burke," I hear him say.

My hands ball into fists as my picture appears onscreen, and I feel a knot forming in my stomach. It seems an eternity before he says those next five words.

"With a score of seven."

I stare at the number, nearly in awe.

Seven.

That's better than i had dared to hope-far better than I thought I was capable of. Did my parkour really impress the Gamemakers that much?

Somewhere through my shocked daze, Liam's clap on the back and "Good job", accompanied by Julinia's excited babbling, barely register, One thing that does register is Padraic's sudden look of hate thrown my way. Breaking out of my daze, I look at the screen to see his face...with a seven beside it.

We're tied.

I glance back at Liam and he gives me a nod.

Padraic and I are tied. 

I don't believe it.

Surely, surely this well-fed, strong-looking Norther would have better odds than I-an Outage street-rat. How could this have happened?

Maybe I do have a chance after all.