WE'RE HUSTLED ONTO THE train, which is the most elaborate and beautifully decorated place I've ever seen. I have my own room and private bathroom, which actually has a shower. Licinia tells me to do whatever I want, just to be ready for dinner in an hour.

I close my bedroom door and can't help but feel overcome by the knowledge that dozens of female tributes, like myself, have spent some of their final days here. Walking to the closet, I find all kinds of clothing. Dresses, shirts, pants, you name it, it's here. I decide to take a shower and strip, leaving my clothes behind on the floor as I step into the warm water.

It feels glorious.

After some time, I force myself to leave the steaming shower and head back to my room, naked and dripping. Scanning the closet, I pick out a dark green dress with a scoop neck. Then I dry my red hair and put the dress on. It comes to my knee and complements my pale complexion. Then I head to the dining car, barefoot.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Padraic remarks as I throw open the door, interrupting his bragging about how he's going to win. I stare him down, channeling the anger which hasn't yet left me.

"So you finally acknowledge how unattractive you are," I purr sweetly, shutting the door with my hip. The dress is doing something to me, making me feel bolder.

The oldest of the two male Victors holds up a hand. "Let's save the fighting for the arena."

I shrug and take a seat across from the younger Victor, ignoring Licinia's frown. I feel both of the Victors eyeing me, assessing my strengths, weaknesses.

"Okay," the older man finally says, "first order of business: Do you two want to be mentored together, or seperately?"

"Seperately," Padraic and I say at the same time, then glance at each other.

The older victor nods and looks to the younger one. They stare at each other for a moment, as if communicating with their eyes.

"Flip on it?"

The younger nods and produces a coin. "Heads or tails?"

"Tails."

The coin is flipped and the older one asks what the score is. The younger peers at it, a look of disappointment crossing his face before he stifles it.

"Tails."

The older victor looks at Padraic. "You are mine to deal with." He extends his hand. "Ciaryn O'Conner."

I look to the younger guy, who is apparently my mentor. He extends his hand and I narrow my eyes as I take it. He lost the coin toss, which meant that both he and Ciaryn wanted Padraic. Not me. Which, to be honest, does sting a little.

"Liam Donovan," he says.

"Akira Burke," I say, studying him. He has the sharp features of a Souther, dark red hair, gold eyes. Ciaryn, however, is definitely a Norther, with red-blond hair and green eyes. I guess it fits, Norther on Norther, Souther on Souther.

Dinner arrives in courses. A cold melon soup with blueberries comes first, followed by roasted vegetables and rice, prime rib, and something called bread pudding for dessert. I think the bread pudding has liquor in it, but it tastes good. I'm having a little trouble keeping it down as we head to the next room to watch a recap of the reapings.

The tributes from One and Two are, as usual, volunteers and scary-looking. The boy from Four looks like stiff competition. Then we get to Five.

The anouncer chuckles a bit at how long it takes me to step forward and I feel my face heat. It's obvious, even on video, how shocked I am as I walk stiffly to the podium. Padraic is more eye-catching definitely, strutting up to the stage like he owns the place, cocky as always. I make up for it at the train station though, my anger at being abandoned showing up as fiery determination next to Padraic's self-confident smile. Still, I can see why Ciaryn and Liam both wanted my fellow tribute rather than me. Story of my life.

"So," Liam says to Ciaryn. "You guys want to stay in here and we'll go back to the dining room?"

Ciaryn and Padraic both agree to this. Liam ushers me out, shutting the door behind us.

"Stand over there," he orders, pointing to the middle of the room. I do as he says, staring at the now-cleared table as he circles me. "Hold out your arms."

I comply and he takes ahold of my wrists, inspecting each arm in turn. "Not completely lacking in muscle." He drops my arms and orders me to turn. I do so and he chews on his lower lip. "You're attractive enough, though the stylist will work wonders." He tells me to sit down, taking a seat across from me.

"So," he begins, steepling his fingers. "What can you do?"

The question catches me off guard for a moment. "Do? I don't know..." I trail off. "I'm good at stealing things, only been caught once or twice." I relax in my chair. "I'm pretty decent at parkour."

Liam frowns. "What?"

I sigh. "Parkour. I can run up walls, jump from roof to roof, climb about anything. Some people call it free running, but the two are pretty different." Well, if that wasn't a dumb way of explaining it.

My mentor nods, recognition dawning in his eyes. "You're part of one of those gangs, aren't you?"

I think about that for a moment. Jael had hinted about initiating me sometime soon so I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't been Reaped, then I would have been a member of the Tracers. But I was Reaped, and I wasn't initiated.

"No." I shake my head.

Liam chews on his lip. "What else can you do?"

I shrug. "I'm good at salvaging things, especially metal. I can throw knives."

He leans back in his chair. "We've only got a few minutes until you have to turn in, so here's what I've got for you: Tone the attitude down a bit, but stay witty. We'll work on exactly what personality angle to play later. But for now; eat plenty of protein and fat, get some sleep, and drink lots of water. Got it?"

I nod.

"Good. Now go to bed."

I get up and head back to my bedroom, stripping to my underwear before climbing into bed. It takes a while to actually fall asleep in the strange room, constantly rocking and shifting as we speed towards the Capitol.

I'm awakened by Licinia pounding on my door.

"Wake up, wake up!" she chirps. "There's wonderful, busy day ahead and you don't want to miss any of it!"

I drag myself out of bed, noticing that the sun is just beginning to rise. I glare at it and yank my curtains shut, attempting to block out whatever makes the world keep turning. Every sunrise just drags me closer to my violent death in the Arena.

Pulling on a pair of close-fitting jeans and a loose t-shirt, I stalk out to the dining room. While downing a plate of bacon and eggs, I'm told that we will pull into the Capitol in aproximately and hour, where we'll be handed off to stylists at the Remake Center. Liam and Ciaryn tell us to just roll with whatever mess they put us through and Licinia tells us to be sure and smile for the cameras.

I get the feeling that what's left of my life will be dictated by what others want