I’ve been attempting to make a fire for about three minutes when a boy from District 12 walks over. “Need any help?” he asks. I look up at him. He has curly dark brown hair and pale-ish skin, kind of like mine. His eyes are soft, and something about his face feels familiar. We actually look a little alike—the same sharp cheekbones, the same narrow eyes. It’s strange. For a second I hesitate. This boy could be trying to use me. Everyone here probably is. That’s the whole point of the Games. But I’ve always tried to see the best in people. So I say yes anyway. “Yes, please,” I say with a small smile, shifting a little to make room for him. He kneels down beside the small pile of sticks I’ve been struggling with. “You’ve got the right idea,” he says, adjusting some of the twigs. “You just need a little more air getting through.” He rearranges the sticks quickly, stacking them in a small triangle shape. Then he strikes the flint. This time the spark catches almost immediately. A tiny flame flickers to life. I stare at it, impressed. “Wow,” I say. “That was fast.” He shrugs a little. “My district has a lot of woods. You learn stuff like this pretty early.” I glance at him again. For a moment we both just watch the small fire flicker between us. Then I remember something. “Oh— I’m Willow. District 10.” He smiles slightly. “I know.” Of course he does. Everyone knows everyone here. Still, he holds out his hand anyway. “I’m Cole.” I shake his hand, feeling the warmth of the fire between us. For a moment, the Training Center doesn’t feel quite as cold. Cole and I do a few stations together after that. We practice knots, camouflage, and a little bit of climbing. He’s good at most of it, especially anything involving the woods. I’m not amazing at any of it yet, but I’m learning. Eventually we both know we shouldn’t stay together the whole time. People would notice. And alliances in training can make you a target later. Before we split up, Cole glances around to make sure no one is paying attention. “If we see each other in the arena…” he says quietly. “Allies?” I finish. He nods. “Allies.” I nod back, even though a knot forms in my stomach. It sounds nice in theory. But in the arena, things rarely work out the way you plan. We head off in different directions after that. I wander through the stations, watching other tributes practice with spears, knives, and swords. Some of them look terrifyingly good. Eventually I drift over to the axe station. A girl from District 7 stands there, gripping an axe awkwardly. She tries to throw it, but it spins wildly and clatters uselessly against the target before falling to the ground. She groans under her breath. Even though I know basically nothing about axes, I can tell she’s doing something wrong. She looks completely frustrated. Honestly… kind of helpless. I hesitate for a second. Helping people here might not be the smartest idea. But if I’m being honest, I’m pretty helpless too. So I walk over anyway. “Um… hey,” I say. She turns toward me, surprised. “I think you might be holding it wrong.” I watch her face go through about a hundred different emotions. Fear. Shock. Guilt. Embarrassment. “Uh…” she starts, shifting her grip on the axe. “I—I don’t really know how to use these.” Something about the way she says it feels… off. Like she’s faking it. I might be wrong. But I’m usually pretty good at reading people. Still, I decide to play it safe. “I don’t really know how to use it either,” I say with a small shrug. “But we can learn together, right?” She studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to figure something out. Then she relaxes a little. “I’m Willow,” I add. “What’s your name?” For a second she hesitates. Then she says it. “Johanna.” She pauses slightly before continuing. “Johanna Mason.” The name sends a small chill down my spine, though I’m not sure why. She doesn’t look helpless anymore. Not really.
