In District 4, one way or another, we all return to the water.

Everything we did revolved around the sea and its bounties. From our studies, our jobs, our way of life, our language, our culture, our memories, our comfort, our heart break—everything. I had too many memories with the water, growing up close to the shore: memories both immaculate and earth-shattering. Quite like the sea. My most treasured one was on one of the warmest days when I was seven years old. With the sound of the crashing waves surrounding us, sand squished between our toes, our eyes illuminated by the slowly setting sun, and our wet hands joined together, my three close friends and I pledged to be there for each other through thick and in.

Or how we had phrased it back then: "From beginning to the end."

It's silly, now that I think about it, how that memory felt like such a dream. It always felt so unreal yet so vivid in my mind. My juvenile brain probably exaggerated the memory, but I'm okay with that. It did feel like a magical moment: knowing that I had three people that I could depend my life on.

And it was that moment by the water that shaped how the rest of my days would be like.

"How about you keep up, Pretty Boy?" Wesley shouted, his husky voice carried by the wind as he pumped his legs faster and faster down the cobbled streets of District 4. He was already around ten steps ahead of us, and his pace only got faster and faster—a feat that I'm sure he wouldn't fail to remind us later along with the teasing of being "sea snails."

Jaxon snorted beside me, keeping up the pace of his moderate jog. "And ruin my hair? No way!"

Though I knew that Jaxon could just as easily catch up with Wesley, I had no doubts that his comment about his hair held more fact than humor.

"Yeah, well, if we keep up with this sad pace, we're going to be late to the Reaping!" I reminded them, trying to run faster to at least match pace with the two boys. Screw them and their ridiculously long legs. "And I don't think you'll be able to keep styling your hair if you're in prison, Jaxon."

"If there's a will, there's a way, Zeph," Jaxon said with a mischievous wink. Seeing that wink, an astonished chuckle bubbled from my throat.

"Please. I don't want to know what fluid you're going to use for your hair."

Wesley stumbled a bit ahead of us.

"Ew! Zephyr!"

Our laughter might have slowed us down in our run towards our neighbourhood, making us stop a few times to catch our breath before continuing our struggle, but we didn't care. People must have thought that the three of us were out of our minds. The Reaping is not—and never will be—a day of celebration or joy, so seeing a bunch of kids laughing wildly on the street is not a sight that should exist on this day. Not this day. And I understood that, but at the same time, being able to laugh and, for a moment, forget was better than being drowned in sorrow.

As we neared my house, Wesley swiftly does a sharp turn in the alleyway that lead to the backyard of the house, and Jaxon and I followed. Though they were already running out of time to prepare, the two boys didn't hesitate to run to the giant tree in my backyard and thread their hands together. Without hesitation as well, I ran at them full speed and used their hands to propel myself upwards enough to grab a branch. From there, I climbed the rest of the way up to a branch that led towards a window. My window. Everything was practiced and almost second nature to me. It took only a simple balanced run, jump, and front roll to get into my bedroom from the open window. I quickly stood up and waved at my friends to show that I got in.

"And she sticks the landing!" Jaxon hollered, accompanied by a loud 'whoop' from Wes.

With confidence, I posed by the window with my hands above my head, pretending that I was in the spotlight. Jaxon pretended to throw an invisible rose at me while Wes clapped in amusement. When the sound of a door on the back porch opening reached their ears, the two boys immediately took off, the soles of their shoes pounding on the ground and Jaxon's light laughter being carried by the wind.

"Zephyr!" a sharp voiced pierced the joyous air, making me wince. Oh, god. "What did I say about those delinquents anywhere near our house?"

I groaned. Right. This conversation again. I push the window closed. "Mama, they were just walking me home so we wouldn't be late for the Reaping. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready."

With hurried steps, I crossed my room to shut the door, perhaps a tiny bit louder than I intended it to. A punishment must be waiting for me for later. Although, attending another Reaping was punishment enough already. Just one more Reaping after this, I reminded myself with a heavy heart and an even heavier exhale.

There was no time to take a shower, so I just slipped a pale blue dress on and ran a brush through my semi-damp messy brown locks. Hopefully, the saltwater wouldn't dry up my hair or make it frizzy by the time it dries. I could just take a shower after the Reaping anyway. A part of me regrets taking a short swim and forgetting the time, but the fun that my friends and I had that morning wasn't going to get dampened by this morning's "festivities." I made sure to wipe the ring on my left ring finger so that it remained sparkly and polished, nostalgia tugging the edges of lips upwards. After slipping on a pair of chunky heels, I booked it down the stairs to grab an apple from the kitchen fruit bowl.

I almost halted in my stride towards the near empty fruit bowl when I saw my mother waiting for me in the kitchen. Her curled and pinned auburn hair was an aesthetic contrast to her immaculate navy dress with white trimmings. It was there, with the sunlight streaming behind her from the kitchen windows, that I was gobsmacked again by how pretty my mother was. From her long, slim legs, clean, manicured nails, string of pearls around her neck, to her lightly painted lips, she looked like the perfect woman. She looked like she belonged in the Capitol. If it only wasn't for the dark bags and wrinkles under her eyes and the scowl on her thin lips.

My mother gave a sniff, a tall glass of dark liquid in her hand. "Honestly, child. Is that the best dress that you have? And your hair! What will the town think when they see you? You look like a disgrace. Change at once, Zephyr."

Typical. I'm the one who looks like a disgrace when I wasn't the one drinking in the early morning. I bit my tongue to refrain from voicing my thoughts out.

Seeing myself now in the mirror that hung by the doorway to our kitchen, I could partly understand my mother's distress. Though I did my best to tame my hair with a simple braid that cut across my hair from ear to ear, the braid was subpar at best and baby hairs continued to stick out. My messy look was nowhere near the impeccable styled hair that my mother had. And sure, the dress that I wore was...plain by a large margin compared to her dress.

"I brushed my hair and styled it," I stated, reaching over to grab a tiny apple from the bowl and avoiding her eyes. "This is my first time wearing this dress in public, so by definition it's somewhat new. I'm not going to get reaped, so my face wouldn't be broadcasted to all of Panem, Mama. You have nothing to worry about. They won't...have to see this disgrace."

"Worry? You think I'm worried? I'm fucking ashamed that you think you'll be fine in public looking like that. Do you know how you would make me look?" She sways on her feet. My nails pierce the skin of my palm from holding on too tight. My chest burned with a fire that sought more to destroy than to give me warmth.

But as quick as it was lit, the fire was immediately doused. My shoulders sagged in defeat.

I took in a deep breath, eyeing the glass in her hand. "I'm sorry, Mama. I would change, but I'll be late for the Reaping."

"And you will be too," I continued, steeling myself as I took a few steps towards her. My hand reached for for her glass, being cautious as if handling a crazed animal. And in a moment, her eyes went feral like I had feared. "So...let me just take your glass, and we can both go to the Justice Building toge—"

Before I could even touch the glass, Mama held it out of my reach. The smell of alcohol hit my nose, and for a moment, it made me wonder if the glass that she was holding was even her first for the day. She sneered, "Don't touch my glass. How dare you!"

I jumped back, feeling burned by the venom in her voice. She took a menacing step towards me, and that sent me stumbling back.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I'll...I'll go."

Without waiting for a response, I booked it out of our house. Going against my mother when she's angry is one thing, but going against her when she's angry and drunk is another. Perhaps it would be best to avoid her after the reaping and to wait for her to sleep before I could sneak back into the house. Once I reached the main road, I followed the slow procession past the main markets, the academies, the docks, and towards the gathering at the old Justice Building.

The Justice Building, the tallest building in the square, looked more like a penitentiary than what it should be. In a way, it seemed accurate to what the Justice Building is. Every year, we have to gather to be chosen for "a chance of a lifetime," which sounded more like a punishment for a crime rather than the fame and glory that people from the Capitol are saying it is. Once you're chosen and you enter the building, the chosen are put on death row that's broadcasted to the whole nation.

A tall head of dark, curly hair caught my eye just across the street from the registration table. Wesley picked at the buttoned up collar of his dress shirt that was a color akin to sand, and he gnawed on his chapped lips. His hair looked freshly washed as his curls weren't as crazy as they usually were—very unlike how he was earlier when we ran back home.

"I'm a hundred times impressed that you were able to squeeze in a bath in the little time that we had to get ready," I said, walking towards his spot. I knocked my shoulder with his in greeting. "Or did you have another swim?"

Wesley gave a chuckle and shook his head. "No. I just washed my hair and changed. I don't really want the screens to be overtaken by shots of my hair when the cameras sweep the boys' area. Wish I could say the same for you."

I scowled and punched his shoulder, though the punch probably hurt my hand more than it hurt him. "That's a foul right there, Wesley."

As Wesley laughed and I tried to tame my hair a bit more with my fingers, Jaxon came bounding to our side, looking quite polished and suave in his white button down and slicked back hair. Not a second later did Teo, the fourth to complete our group, calmly walked towards us after speaking a few hushed words to his little sister who went up to the registration table.

Jaxon threw his arm around Teo's shoulders, his eyes narrowed playfully. "Oh, finally! The traitor joins us."

Teo opened his mouth to speak when his eyes zeroed in on my elbow. Or more specifically, on the sand on my elbow.

"Didn't have enough time to bathe, Zephyr?"

"Don't you judge me, traitor," I accused jokingly, poking Teo's side. "You just snuck out on us without telling us the time. I totally could have squeezed in a bath if you just told us that we had to leave."

"Yeah, thanks for leaving us at the beach, Teo," Wesley added sarcastically, crossing his muscled arms over his chest.

Teo gave a heavy signed and rolled his eyes. His slender fingers picked up Jaxon's hand on his shoulder and brushed it away, acting as if he was touching something vile. "I didn't leave you at the beachwithout warning. I told Jax that it was nearing the time for the Reaping, and if I remember correctly, he was the one who told me to 'get the driftwood out' of my ass. So if anyone's to blame for tardiness—"

Jaxon starts waving his arms, a nervous laugh escaping from his lips. "Okay! We should probably go register..."

"Jaxon," I said in warning, my eyes narrowing at the real culprit to it all.

"Toodles, babes," he calls out before turning to sprint towards the registration tables at the front of the building. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Of course it was Jax.

"Not so fast, traitor!" Wesley called out, running after Jaxon. It wasn't a problem for Wesley as he easily caught up to Jaxon with his long legs and multitude morning runs. He dragged a kicking and squirming Jaxon back to where Teo and I stood, our arms crossed and looks composed as if a tribunal ready to serve some justice.

Teo stepped forward, and though he was shorter than Jaxon and Wesley, his squared shoulders and impassive look could easily intimidate anyone. Wesley held Jaxon against his chest, his bulky arms wrapped around Jaxon's lean torso and arms to trap him there, mirth dancing in his brown eyes.

"Jaxon Destan, you have falsely accused Teo Pierce and attempted escape which is punishable in this court of law." I pointed an accusing finger towards him, trying to stop my lips from quirking into a smile. "And the court finds you...guilty."

With a satisfying 'thwick', Teo had flicked Jaxon's forehead, resulting in a groan from the punished party and a snort of laughter from Wesley.

"You're all dicks," Jaxon moaned, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead after being released by Wesley. His pout, very short-lived, quickly turned into a smirk. "But damn, Teo. What else can your fingers do?"

Teo's face of amusement quickly turned into an irritated scowl. He made a threatening step towards Jaxon but was quickly intercepted by Wesley.

"Come on, you guys," he started, his shoulders still shaking in his barely contained laughter. "We have to go before we really are late. Ready?"

He thrust out his hand towards the space in the middle of our circle. Wesley's eyes looked at each of us, his mouth slowly losing its joyous curve. Without hesitation, Wesley, Teo, and I placed our hands of top of his. The warmth emanating from the simple act was enough to make me feel a slither of comfort.

"From the beginning until the end," Wesley murmured.

I echoed, looking at each of my best friends, "From the beginning until the end."

"From the beginning until the end," Jaxon repeated, the mirth gone from his dark eyes as well.

Teo was the last to say it after a deep breath. "From the beginning until the end."

The slither of comfort turned into a tidal wave that washed away the bitter fear in throat. Sixth year of doing this weird tradition and it never failed to make me feel safe.

Teo was the first to leave the circle, huffing the reminder that the reaping waits for no one, and Wesley followed. I walked with Jaxon by my side, taking our own time to cross the street to the booths. Now that we were going our separate ways—or at least I'm going to a separated area—I couldn't help but scratch at my arm to chase away the nerves.

"Hey, Jax. Can I...Can I sleep over at your house tonight?"

Jax turned to me with a raised brow. "Of course you can, but...what's the occasion?"

I nibbled on my lip before answering, "Nothing. I just...wanted to sleep over."

And I could tell by the look on Jaxon' face that he didn't believe me. However, he didn't prod and opted to give my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a nod. Jaxon must have understood already the circumstances and the reason behind the sudden question. That alone released a bit of tension that made my stomach tie itself into knots.

The registration was a quick process, one that I was already so familiar with that the drawing of blood didn't make me nauseous as it once did when I first entered the Reaping. After being registered, I was quickly ushered into the roped-off group of girls in my age range. When everyone started settling down, Valentina Fritt, the District 4 escort, walked onto the stage, her striking blonde wig piled high on her head. Jaxon once joked that it probably where she stashes her ego. Hence why it's so big. For this year, she went for a sea-inspired look with a shimmery blue dress and fake decorative sea creatures littering her hair and accessories. A giant starfish was stuck on her chest, which looked like a target more than a fashionable addition. Her blue painted lips, a complete contrast to her painted white skin, stretched into a wide smile as she stopped in front of the microphone. Behind her, the representatives of the district lined up by their chairs.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she greeted with sugar sweet enthusiasm. I could already feel my teeth and my brain rotting. "And may the odds be ever in your favour."

Judging by the deadpan expressions of the girls around me, I knew that we were all thinking the same thing. The odds will never be in our favour. Not while we were at the mercy of our age and these games. Sure, there were some who liked these games—would give anything to participate in these games, but I knew better. There was only a fifty-fifty chance in these games for all of us. Either bring home "pride" for your district, or let the Capitol bring home your casket.

The silence didn't deter the ecstatic Valentina who was clapping by herself. She cleared her throat, "But before we start with the selection, a special treat from our beloved president."

The giant screens went black before the yearly reaping day film was played. After watching it for five years already, it was easy to block out the words and the images that brought to life nightmares after the first Reaping that I witnessed. War, famine, youth, uprising, rebel, nothing, peace, treason, fight, sacrifices, forgiveness, our future.

What bullshit.

My gaze went to Jaxon, Teo, and Wes' place in their group. Jaxon had this look on his face that I always understood as him perpetually rolling his eyes in his mind. Teo had his head cocked to the side in thought.

"Don't you just feel goose bumps at the end?" our escort addressed the crowd, her dark brown eyes alight with admiration. "Now, let's start with the ladies!"

Valentina walked to the glass bowl on her left, her sky high heels clicking on the stage. She made a show of twirling her hand and waiting with baited breath to snatch a small piece of paper. The girls in front of me started linking hands, squeezing tightly as if in the deepest prayer. I felt the girl to my left tap the back of my hand gently before offering hers. Her lips shook with the heavy breath that she took in. When I offered mine, she grabbed onto it tightly. Though it was sweaty and cold, her hand in mine was comforting. I offered my hand to the girl to my right, and she immediately took it.

Just one more Reaping after this. And then?

Freedom.

"Zephyr Loire!"

A scream pierced through the tense air—whether or not it was mine, I couldn't pinpoint. Immediately, the girls next to me let go of my hand, as if burned. As if my touch could doom them to the same terrible fate that a piece of paper had thrust upon me. And maybe it could. Pity, fear, and relief were mixed in their faces, and my chest burned with anger.

Or maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was heartburn. Maybe it was shame. I had no time to process it as Valentina called out my name again in this sing-song way like children would when trying to find their friends at hide and seek. Swallowing thickly, I moved towards the aisle with heavy steps. It felt like my hands and feet were dunked in ice water, slowly growing numb. Peacekeepers surrounded me once I reached the aisle to make sure that the chosen tribute wouldn't run—not like anyone has in District 4.

My eyes tried to find my friends again in their line, but the officers behind me were already pushing me to the front. My vision blurred for a moment. I had to find them. I had to say goodbye. I couldn't leave. I couldn't die. We had so many plans. We had a future. We had a plan.

I am going to die.

I swallowed thickly again, trying to regain control of my erratic breathing. As I walked up the stairs, Valentina offered me her hand which I gladly took, fearing that without guidance I'll fall on my face or fall off the stage. She clapped me on the back with little force, but even from that, I almost stumbled to the edge of the stage.

There, I could see everyone's faces again, but that only made the fire in my chest burn hotter. The girls were relieved. They weren't going to be the one to die in some awful game. They weren't going to be used for entertainment. They weren't going to be stripped down to their weakest point. They weren't going to be cut open or mangled for the whole nation to see. They weren't me.

At last, I could make out the faces of my three best friends from the crowd—their horrified faces. Teo was white as a sheet. Jaxon had his head bowed but shaking vehemently from side to side. Wesley had his eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking. They were going to lose a friend. For a second, I was comforted with the thought that there would be at least three people who would mourn me and miss me. But that second was gone, and all I could feel again was dread.

My mother, the familiar auburn head that I could see at the back of the crowd, took a long swig from her flask. She must be glad to be rid of me.

And then, for a moment, though I swore to myself that I would never ever go down this line of thought, I had the screaming thought: How would Papa react to all of this? Would he care?

Of course he would. What was I thinking?

"And now, for the boys!"

I ripped my gaze away from my mother and looked towards Valentina. It was now time for the next body in the casket that the Capitol will return. I only prayed that whoever would be picked would at least be competent enough to win this so the district wouldn't have two disappointments.

Again, Valentina took her sweet time trying to make the Reaping dramatic. All I wanted to do was to tell her to choose faster. We didn't need this to be more of a show than it already was.

Our escort cleared her throat before reading her pick. "Let's welcome our male tribute: Wesley St. James!"

No.

Wesley's eyes snapped open, and his mouth went slack. Jaxon's shoulders slumped and started shaking as tears ran down his cheeks.

No.

Teo held on to Wesley's wrist with a strong grip when the taller boy passed. Wesley shook his head and whispered something that prompted Teo to let go. From Teo's expression, I could tell that he didn't want to do it.

No.

Wesley walked with the Peacekeepers down the aisle, his shoulders squared and his body tensed.

No.

He meets my eyes as he climbs up the stairs, and the fear in his eyes lodged a burning sob in my throat. Wesley still looked put together compared to what I feel like I look at that moment. The shakiness was gone from his stance, but his eyes...

His eyes were hardened mahogany muddied by a flurry of emotions. And I understood him. Determination fuelled by anger. Anger fuelled by fear. Fear fuelled by the realization that one of us has to die.

Only one of us gets to go home. Or maybe even neither of us at all.

"Our tributes!" Valentina called out, wrapping her long arms around our shoulders. "Shake hands now, dears."

I took in a deep breath and rushed towards Wesley, wrapping my arms around his middle. Fuck the handshake. Fuck whatever kind of social convention that we had to abide by for this reaping. Fuck...Fuck it all. Immediately, I felt strong arms wrapping around my shoulders, and I could smell the familiar scent of mild soap and salty water.

"It's gonna be okay, Zeph," Wesley whispered next to my ear, squeezing me tightly as if he was trying to hold me together. Like I was falling apart. And maybe I was. "We're going to figure something out."

He didn't let go until I've nodded. However, he still held on to my hand as we faced the crowd once more. This time, I stared straight ahead, past the buildings in the square and towards the horizon and the sea. The sea glittered in the morning sun, winking and calling out for me to run and jump into its calm embrace. It'll be the last time I'll ever get to see the beautiful water. The thought made my chest burn once again and made me squeeze Wesley's hand even tighter.

Valentina went towards the microphone once more, a bright smile on her blue-painted lips. She threw her hands up glee. "Happy Hunger Games, District 4! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

The last thing that I saw before I was ushered inside the Justice Building was the back of my mother's head as she walked away from the square.

When I finally left alone in a room, I felt it all crashing down on me. I wasn't going to come back home. I was going to have to battle with my best friend. I was expected to kill. I was expected to act like it wouldn't bother me. I was expected to put on a show. I was expected to die.

I am going to die.

My legs felt weak, and that prompted me to sink down on a nearby chair as my breathing became more laboured. Why was I picked? I only had one more Reaping before I could live my life. I only had six slips of paper with my name on it. I never took a tesserae. We never needed it. Now...the only hope that I have of a future was ripped from my hands the same way I am being ripped away from my home. Or probably the same way another tribute would rip into me.

The door creaked open, and for a moment, I felt a gust of relief. But that went away quickly when, instead of carefully pinned auburn hair, I was greeted by a head of short, wavy, dark brown locks.

"Katja," I gasped, rising from my seat. From behind her, I could see the rest of Wesley's family entering the room he was in. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but what exactly do you say to the older sister of a fellow tribute? One that you were expected to hunt down?

Katja shifted on her feet, her hands fisting the pretty skirt of her floral dress. "Hi. I uh...I wanted to talk...to you."

Gnawing on my lip, I nodded for her to continue. She took a few heavy steps towards me, and her eyes went from me to the floor. What a difference a day made, I thought. I always envied Katja's strength and confidence. She was the type of girl that just went for anything that her heart desired with her head held high and determination in her steps. Screw the obstacles ahead. As long as she put her mind to it, she was going to get and achieve what she wanted. However, now, the woman before her seemed so unsure of herself: so unlike who Katja was in my eyes.

"I...I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes squeezing shut. She looked so much younger than her actual age. "You don't deserve...any of this."

At a loss for words, I just nodded again and pulled her in for a hug. We were never that close—at least not in the same way that Wesley and I were—but she was always there when I needed advice on things that I couldn't ask any of my friends about. She made sure to protect us when we were in deep trouble.

But then she pushed me away.

Though not unkindly, she held me at arms length and shook her head. When she met my eyes, I saw her strength coming back. The determination was back. Should I have felt relief?

"I...I have a favour to ask of you." Her fingers tighten on my forearms, almost to the point that her fingernails were beginning to hurt my skin.

"Of course, Katja. Anything."

"I know that Wesley...Wesley cares a lot about you, and you know how much Wesley can be a bleeding heart."

I nodded in understanding. "Bleeding heart" was a bit of an understatement.

"And I know that you would do anything to keep you safe, but I also know that Wesley would do the same to you...to the point that he would give up his life." She sucked in a breath as her eyes started watering. "Please. Please don't let him die. I know that he'll listen to you, so please make him promise that he'll do whatever it takes to win. Don't make him give up his life. Please...let him come home."

That felt like a punch to my gut, and I had to remind myself to breathe when I realized I had stopped. My eyes burned with the hurt that consumed me. She's asking me to die to let her brother live. A tiny part of me wishes that I had someone who would plead for me like this, and the fact that she would do this for Wesley -

"Katja..."

Wesley's sister bowed her head. "I know. I know I sound so selfish. I just...We can't lose him, Zephyr. I don't..."

The door slammed open and Peacekeeper walked, heading straight for Katja. "It's time for you to go."

Katja gave a shaky nod. She sent me a pleading look before leaving the room. Once the door closed, I took shuddering breaths and squeezed my eyes tight, trying to push back the tears and Katja's words to the back of my mind.

There was a commotion outside, shouting and a few thuds before the door opened and my two friends came stumbling in. Jaxon turned back and grabbed the door before it closed.

"We're the only people that who are close to being her family, okay buddy. So simmer down and just let us be!" He slammed the door shut with a huff.

Teo came first and crashed into me, wrapping his arms around for a tight hug. I let out a huge breath when I felt the warmth and comfort from the gesture. My body almost caved in and melted into the hug, craving that solace so much. This felt miles different from the momentary hug that I had with Katja. This one was just full of warmth, and it didn't feel like hugging a wall.

But the warmth didn't last long.

Soon, there was a hand that separated me from my quiet friend. A whine almost left my throat. Jaxon came into view and he pulled me in for a bone crushing hug. It felt so desperate and vulnerable. My throat was so constricted, and I was scared that I would start crying. Oh, Jaxon...

"Look, Mama don't play no favorites, okay?" he croaked, his voice almost muffled by how much he was burrowing into my shoulder. I could feel his lithe frame shaking in my arms. Out of sadness or anger, I couldn't tell. "I'm going to tell you the same thing that I'm going to tell Wes. I don't care what it takes, okay. Do whatever it is that you have to do. Don't let anyone touch a single fucking hair on your head, or I'm going to release hell and its warriors."

He pulled away and held me at arms length, his eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm not choosing between the two of you. We're not choosing between the two of you. We can take mourning for one friend, but I'll be fucking damned if we lose both of you. Win this. Win it and come back. We'll figure out the rest after that. Together."

A hiccup bubbled through the wails and sobs that had died on my tongue. The earlier burn in my chest was slowly dissipating like a tide pulling away from the shore. What did I do to deserve friends like this?

Steeling himself, he sandwiched my face in his hands and held my gaze. The raw desperation in his eyes hit me once again. He's scared that I'm going to die. "Fucking promise me you'll do whatever it takes to win, Zephyr!"

"I..."

I didn't want to lie. I did want to go home and go back to how it was, but that did mean winning. And winning meant possibly killing Wesley. Or going home without Wesley. Or grieving for Wesley. Or losing everything. Why would I want to promise that? Would Wesley make the same promise to Jaxon? Would he do whatever it would take to win? Even if it meant killing me?

But I can understood the desperation with Jaxon. There was that overwhelming fear that he would face another casket.

"I'll..." My lips felt dry as I swiped my tongue across it. It's a lie, but saying it hopefully could become the truth. I wanted to comfort him so badly. "I can only promise to try, Jaxon. You know...what winning means."

Jaxon bit his lip, hesitant, but he nodded nonetheless. He ran a hand through his hair before moving over to the side to let Teo have a turn for his final words.

He comes forward, his compact frame wrapping around mine gently. "Remember, you're a child of the sea, Zephyr. Still waters can hide roaring whirlpools and powerful undercurrents. Be strong. Be bold."

Teo pulls away, and the sight of the amount of sorrow in his eyes came like a punch to the gut. "And then come back to us."

"Thanks, Teo," I whispered sincerely, giving him a final squeeze.

Final.

It sounded so wrong, but I know that might be how it would play out.

"Listen, about your token," Jaxon started, gnawing on his dried out lips. "I know your mom can't..."

Tears built up in the corners of my eyes, but I tried my best to keep it all in. "What are you talking about? I have my token right here."

I raised my hand to show the glittering ring proudly. Jaxon let out a shuddering breath, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks once more. He grabbed my hand gently and touched my knuckles to his forehead—the ultimate sign of respect, love, and loyalty in our district. I could feel the cold sweat that had formed on his forehead, but his hand remained steady as he clutched mine. And when he moved away, Teo held my hand as well and did the same gesture.

The door opened once more, and a Peacekeeper glared specifically at Jaxon. "Time's up. Now get out of the room."

"All right. All right," Jaxon said, waving it off and trying to hide his tears. His shoulders became tense, and any sign of desperation and sorrow was gone from his eyes. All that was left was rage. For a moment, I wanted to scold him in fear that he would be handed a punishment by the Peacekeeper for talking back, but Teo was already fast enough to grab his arm to stop him from talking some more.

"Thank you." Teo tightened his grip on Jaxon's arm when the cocky teen was going to speak once more. "We'll just say our goodbye as well to the other tribute, sir."

The Peacekeeper scowled, and I feared that their request would be declined. Still, Teo held the officer's gaze, not asserting authority but not backing down either.

The officer's gaze narrowed. "Relationship with the male tribute?"

"Best fri-"

"Family friend," Teo interjected, shooting a warning look at Jaxon. "The rules state that loved ones can visit. This includes close family friends."

I could tell that the "no" still lingered in the air, but Teo was correct in pointing out the rules. The Peacekeeper nodded, his jaw tense. "Make it quick."

Teo nodded and followed the Peacekeeper out. Jaxon reached out and squeezed my shoulder before leaving the room. When the door closed, my legs finally gave out, and I was faced with deafening silence.

And in that silence, i found enough comfort to cry.

The train was unlike anything I've ever seen before. Of course, immigrating to other districts was strictly forbidden, but there were times where the wealthiest of the district would travel for visits or the district representatives would have to go to meetings in the Capitol. However, even coming close to a train would be something I didn't think would ever happen to me. I just wished that it would be different reasons—for both me and Wesley.

And the inside of the train?

Magnificent.

Glass chandeliers, exquisitely upholstered furniture, polished silverware, and bright, flagrant flowers—the train is definitely more luxurious than any of the houses of the wealthiest citizens in our district. It was crazy. I was afraid that my shoes would track in dirt or sand on the polished floors and someone would yell at me for it. Everything just looked so pristine.

Wesley sat to my right at the dark wooden dining table, his incessant foot tapping the only thing keeping me grounded at a time like this. His dark eyes were slightly red, hilariously matching mine. When we saw each other while being led to the car that would take us to the train,

Wesley's lips were almost breaking into a smile because he knew that we both looked ridiculous. That alone made me feel infinitely better, seeing that Wesley's humor had not changed.

"I'm not going to kill you." Wesley whispered, turning his head to look me dead in the eyes. His eyes were still red-rimmed. "I'm not."

"Wes, I—"

The carriage door opened with a 'whoosh' and Valentina came teetering in, a tall well-built male and an elderly female with a cane following behind her. I recognized the male immediately. Finnick Odair. His face wasn't one that could be easily forgotten. Ever since he entered the 65th Hunger Games, his popularity sky-rocketed. Heck, even before the Hunger Games, he was popular in the district with his good looks and beguiling smile. Now, he's a beloved tribute that many men and women want and District 4 tributes want to be. The Careers training to be tributes probably felt like they could never surpass Finnick. And maybe they never would.

Now the elderly lady, I think she was a past victor as well, but I couldn't imagine such a sweet looking woman such as herself to be in the games—much less win them. Her eyes twinkled with wisdom and gentleness that only years of seeing horrors can bestow, and her gray-white hair surrounded her face like light from a halo. That was completely different from how other victors left the Games.

Valentina gestured for us to stand up, looking like she was going to burst at the seams with giddiness. "Here you are, you two! These are your mentors: Finnick Odair and Mags Flanagan!"

Wesley and I shot up from our seats, and Wesley didn't waste any time to politely extend his hand towards Finnick.

"Wesley St. James," he introduced himself with a hesitant nod.

I, in turn, reached my hand towards Mags for a handshake. Mags gave me a warm smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. "Zephyr Loire."

"Isn't it fantastic?" Valentina asked in glee as Wesley reached over to shake Mags' hand as well. "It looks like we have good tributes for this year!"

I'm not so sure about that, I thought with a blank expression, extending my hand towards Finnick this time. When he took my hand, he flipped it in his grasp so that he could bring my knuckles to his lips. What the absolute fresh hell?

Wesley's laugh caught my attention, and when I turned towards him, he was desperately trying to muffle his laughter with his hand. I slipped my hand out of Finnick's hold. Mags' shoulders were shaking with laughter as well.

"What?" I asked, my nose scrunching in confusion.

Finnick laughed in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. "Tell me how you really feel, Zephyr."

What?

"You did this face, Zeph." Wesley scrunched his whole face in disgust for a moment, as if he had sucked a lemon, before he relaxed and laughed once more.

Oh.

Oh.

"I am so sorry!" I said, whipping my head towards Finnick's direction. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful! I just...you were kissing my hand, and I wasn't really prepared for it. I guess I don't really like it—not like I'm saying that, uhm, I don't like you! I just don't..."

Finnick raised a brow, but I couldn't tell if he was daring me to continue or if he was amused with how much I was making a fool of myself. Wesley laughing so hard that he started snorting behind me was no help either. I gave him a hard jab with my elbow, but that only made him laugh harder. Perhaps the idea that at least one of us was going to die is slowly driving him mad as well, but his solution was humor.

Apologies were teetering on the tip of my tongue. However, I held back and bit it. There was no need to dig myself deeper into a hole or embarrass myself further. Especially not in front of the people who could possibly keep me and Wesley alive.

"I'll just shut up now. I'm sorry."

Finnick chuckled in amusement, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, at least now I know you've got some attitude hidden in your gills. And I like a girl with attitude."

He gave me a cheeky wink.

Heat crept under the skin of my cheeks at the wink, but it was more out of embarrassment than swooning. I think. Damn it. How can Finnick Odair just sweat charm?

Mags, bless her heart, came over to whack the back of Finnick's head, her eyes shinning with mirth. "Stop teasing her, Finnick."

Our mentor stuck out his lips in a pout like a child scolded by their parent. "I wasn't teasing. I really do like a girl with an attitude."

Mags only gave him an eye roll. I caught Wesley's eye before we both burst into a chuckle.

"So...you two know each other?" Finnick asked, looking between me and my fellow tribute.

The question caught me off-guard. I gnawed on my lip and nodded. Turning to Wesley, I was about to state that we were friends, but he had already beat me to it.

"We're best friends."

There was a sudden pause in the room. It was quick, maybe it didn't even happen, but I felt it. It felt like the room sucked in a deep breath. I caught the look of pity that flashed through Mag's dark eyes.

"Well, this is going to be interesting Hunger Games," Finnick said, trying to make it sound light, but the weight of the thought behind the words made everything feel tense. He knows. He's probably thinking of it too.

The probability of the two of us coming home was zero. The probability of one of us winning was slim. The probability of the either one of us killing each other was unclear. The probability of one of us dying for the other was...problematic.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of A Siren Song! To be honest, I wasn't that into The Hunger Games and Cato, but after reading stories here and going through The Hunger Games again, I decided to throw my hat in the ring. I loved writing this concept, and I have a new twists and turns in mind for the story.

I would really appreciate reviews, and if you leave any, I will reply to them in the next chapter! Do you like the characters? What are your predictions for the future chapters? Do you have any questions for the story? Hit me up!