All right, if you're reading this, I thank you for making your way past the vague summary and into the story. This is an AU Cato/OC story, and the rest will become clear if you read on. If anything is confusing, please feel free to review or PM me and I will make any necessary changes.

Thank you and hopefully happy reading!

It's too hot here. The heat presses down on me and beads of sweat dot my forehead. They taught me everything I could conceivably need in preparation for this moment - axe-handling, eating with utensils, the proper accent for a girl from District Seven. But they couldn't teach me how to handle this heat.

I'm used to it always being cold, so you'd think I'd welcome the warmth. Instead I hate it. It's a nasty business, getting what you want.

Around me, a group of eighteen-year-olds shift nervously back and forth, whispering amongst themselves, some of them praying, even though everything I know about Panem says that they have no religion. I guess people will do just about anything when they're truly terrified.

Come on, get on with it, I silently beg the Capitol presenter. Just call my name and end the suspense for everyone else.

The presenter is a tall, rail-thin woman who's entire body is a shocking shade of silver. Not surprisingly, her name is Maia Silverstone, and she's rambling on like she's got all day to talk. Finally, she seems to finish her speech about what an honor it is to be here - and either she's a good actress or she actually means it - and steps toward the reaping balls.

Hey, Lief says to me. I bet all that silver's only paint.

Nah, it's real, I disagree. This is Panem, after all. Bet you I'm right.

Bet you a dollar you're wrong, Lief says.

You're on.

"Boys or girls? Who wants to go first?" Maia chirps.

Dead silence. "The girls!" I shout. Please, let's get this over with before I melt into a puddle of District Seven accent and stupid clothes.

The girls around me glare. "I hope you get chosen," one hisses at me."

"Thanks. Me, too," I say. Her glare loses its malice and becomes full-on confused. I realize that I'm made possibly a major slip, but what the hell? I'm going into the arena, and by the time this whole thing is over, she won't even remember our little conversation.

She'll have bigger things to worry about.

Maia Silverstone reaches into the glass reaping ball. Agents placed in District Seven by my people have replaced almost all the slips of paper with ones bearing my name, and if that should fail, I'll volunteer. For sure nobody will try and volunteer before I do.

Lief calls out to me with his mind from the boys' section. Fingers crossed, Spirit.

Shut up, I tell him. You'll jinx me.

Maia Silverstone pulls her hand out of the glass ball, a piece of paper clenched in her fist. She unfolds it and read into the microphone, static crackling. "The female tribute from District Seven will be…"

She trails off, frowning, and for a second, I completely panic. What if they're onto us? What if the Peacekeepers are even now planning to arrest Lief and I, drag us up onto the stage and put bullets through our heads? And even if we aren't discovered, what if the arena proves to be too much for us? There are people going in who have trained their whole lives for this moment.

Maia gives herself a little shake and starts over. "The female tribute from District Seven will be Spirit Emerson."

Confusion ripples through the crowd of girls. I can almost see the way their thoughts run. Who is this Spirit person? And then - who cares? She's not me. That's all that matters.

"Spirit Emerson?" Maia repeats. "Come forward, please."

I take a deep breath. This is it. The hopes of my people and the memories of everyone who died at Panem's hand rest with me, and suddenly, I'm nervous that, despite all my training, despite my advance knowledge of how these Games will play out, I'm unready.

Too late to back out now. The Peacekeepers are already converging on the girls' section, searching for the wayward female who's taking too long to make an appearance. I compose myself, turn my facial features into a smooth, inscrutable mask, and step forward.

"I'm Spirit Emerson," I say. The Peacekeepers close ranks around me - as if I'd run - and march me to the stage. I climb the steps and take my place beside Maia Silverstone.

"How old are you, Spirit?" she twitters.

"Eighteen."

"Would you like to say hello to your family now?" Maia says. One reason why we chose District Seven to infiltrate is because Maia tends to ask the chosen tribute some basic questions about him or herself before moving on, and we need to start circulating our cover story as soon as possible.

"I don't have family," I say, slipping into the district accent and the lie. "I'm a street rat, ma'am."

There's an audible sigh of relief from the crowd. Another reason why we picked District Seven as the infiltration point is because it has a large concentration of orphan children living in its streets. Since District Seven's principle industry is logging and they're using primitive tools such as axes, there are a lot of fatal accidents, and consequently, a lot of kids growing up with no one to care for them and no place to live. No one pays attention to the street rats, no one keeps tabs on them, so being a street rat is the ideal cover. No one knew I was here and no one will care that I'm gone. In fact, they'll probably view it as pest control.

"Now for the boys," Maia says. In the crowd, Lief flashes me a thumbs-up. Maia makes a big show of poking through the boys' reaping ball, really milking the moment, and I see Lief roll his eyes.

Good luck, I say.

You'll jinx me.

"The male tribute from District Seven will be Lief Holbrook," Maia says, and Lief lets out a whoop of delight. He charges out of the crowd, bounds up the steps, and grabs Maia's hand, giving it a hearty shake. Then he turns to me and gives me a hug. Lief appears to be totally thrilled at being chosen - and also totally stupid. That's his strategy.

As he hugs me, he whispers in my ear, "I got silver paint all over my hand. You owe me a dollar."

I roll my eyes and take a languid step away from him - part of my strategy. Knowing Lief, he won't drop it. Where the hell am I going to get a dollar? And then I smile, because all I have to do to get more money than I've ever seen is to win the Games.

"It's wonderful to see a tribute who's so, ah, effervescent," Maia says, a little thrown off by Lief's behavior. "Do you have family, Mr. Holbrook?"

Lief grins broadly. "No. I'm a street rat, too."

The people of District Seven must be overjoyed. Rather than having to hand over two of their precious children, they get to pass two street rats off as tributes on the Capitol. It's probably their best reaping yet.

Questions, comments, criticism? Review or PM and tell me what you think!