Logan and I sit next to each other in stiff velvet chairs on the train to the Capitol, waiting for our mentor to arrive. The train hums beneath us as fields and pastures blur past the windows. District 10 getting smaller and smaller the farther we go. Celestine paces back and forth across the train car, her white heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. “She is never late,” she mutters to herself, smoothing down the jacket of her suit for the tenth time. “This is highly unprofessional.” Our mentor’s name is Mara Colter. She won her Games when she was eighteen. My age. If she could win… why can’t I? The thought slips into my mind before I can stop it. I could survive. I could come home. But the idea collapses just as quickly. What am I thinking? I can’t win. After what feels like forever, the door to the train car finally slides open. She steps inside. Mara Colter has olive skin and dark, curly hair that falls loosely around her shoulders. She’s wearing a worn brown coat, and in one hand she’s holding a small silver flask. She looks… different from what I expected. Not polished like Celestine. Not flashy like the Capitol. Real. “Hello, Celestine,” she says with a faint smile. Her eyes flick toward Logan and me for a brief moment before returning to Celestine again, studying us like we’re puzzles she hasn’t decided how to solve yet. “Where have you been?” Celestine snaps the second she sees her. “We’ve been waiting forever!” Mara doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. She simply gives Celestine a light pat on the shoulder as she walks past her and drops into the chair across from Logan and me. Up close, she looks even more tired than before. Like someone who’s seen too much and stopped pretending otherwise. She leans forward slightly. “Mara Colter,” she says plainly. Then she sticks out her hand. “Welcome to hell.”
