And I love it. Getting to be myself at last.

As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of the other stylists have tried to steal Key and Luna's idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at least make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from District 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts? Broiling themselves? Pathetic.

Taeyeon and I, on the other hand, are so mesmerizing with our ever-changing coal costumes that most of the other tributes are staring at us. We seem particularly riveting to the pair from District 6, who are known morphling addicts. Both bone thin, with sagging yellowish skin. They can't tear their overlarge eyes away, even when President Park begins to speak from his balcony, welcoming us all to the Quell. The anthem plays, and as we make our final trip around the circle, am I wrong? Or do I see the president fixated on me as well?

Taeyeon and I wait until the doors of the Training Center have closed behind us to relax. Key and Luna are there, pleased with our performance, and Soonkyu has made an appearance this year as well, only he's not at our chariot, he's over with the tributes of District 11. I see him nod in our direction and then they follow him over to greet us.

I know Jin by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Soonkyu on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement, like they did Taeyeon when they had to amputate his lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it.

The woman, Minzy, looks almost like she could be from the Seam, with her olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver. Only her golden brown eyes mark her as from another district. She must be around sixty, but she still looks strong, and there's no sign she's turned to liquor or morphling or any other chemical form of escape over the years. Before either of us says a word, she embraces me. I know somehow it must be because of Joy and Kai. Before I can stop myself, I whisper, "The families?"

"They're alive," she says back softly before letting me go.

Jin throws his good arm around me and gives me a big kiss right on the mouth. I jerk back, startled, while he and Soonkyu guffaw.

That's about all the time we get before the Capitol attendants are firmly directing us toward the elevators. I get the distinct feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still linked with Taeyeon's, someone else rustles up to my side. The girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls.

Choi Sooyoung. From District 7 Lumber and paper, thus the tree. She won by very convincingly portraying herself as weak and helpless so that she would be ignored. Then she demonstrated a wicked ability to murder. She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. "Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I'd gotten Key. You look fantastic."

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. "Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet." Velvet. The only fabric. I could think of off the top of my head.

"I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back," says Sooyoung.

I bet you did, I think. With a few inches of my flesh.

While we wait for the elevators, Sooyoung s the rest of her tree, letting it drop to the floor, and then kicks it away in disgust. Except for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing. "That's better."

We end up on the same elevator with her, and she spends the whole ride to the seventh floor chatting to Taeyeon about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare s. When she leaves, I ignore him, but I just know he's grinning. I toss aside his hand as the doors close behind Jin and Minzy, leaving us alone, and he breaks out laughing.

"What?" I say, turning on him as we step out on our floor.

"It's you, Tiffany. Can't you see?" he says. "What's me?" I say.

"Why they're all acting like this. Hyoyeon with his sugar cubes and Jin kissing you and that whole thing with Sooyoung stripping down." He tries to take on a more serious tone, unsuccessfully. "They're playing with you because you're so ... you know."

"No, I don't know," I say. And I really have no idea what he's talking about.

"It's like when you wouldn't look at me in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure," he says finally.

"I am not!" I say. "I've been practically ripping your clothes off every time there's been a camera for the last year!"

"Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure," he says, clearly trying to mollify me. "For me, you're perfect. They're just teasing you."

"No, they're laughing at me, and so are you!" I say.

"No." Taeyeon shakes his head, but he's still suppressing a smile. I'm seriously rethinking the question of who should get out of these Games alive when the other elevator opens.

Soonkyu and Yoona join us, looking pleased about something. Then Soonkyu's face grows hard.

What did I do now? I almost say, but I see he's staring behind me at the entrance to the dining room.

Yoona blinks in the same direction, then says brightly, "Looks like they've got you a matched set this year."

I turn around and find the redheaded Avox girl who tended to me last year until the Games began. I think how nice it is to have a friend here. I notice that the young man beside her, another Avox, also has red hair. That must be what Yoona meant by a matched set.

Then a chill runs through me. Because I know him, too. Not from the Capitol but from years of having easy conversations in the Hob, joking over Joonkook’s soup, and that last day watching him lie unconscious in the square while the life bled out of Yuri.

Our new Avox is Xiumin.

Soonkyu grips my wrist as if anticipating my next move, but I am as speechless as the Capitol's torturers have rendered Xiumin. Soonkyu once told me they did something to Avoxes' tongues so they could never talk again. In my head I hear Xiumin’s voice, playful and bright, ringing across the Hob to tease me. Not as my fellow victors make fun of me now, but because we genuinely liked each other. If Yuri could see him ...

I know any move I would make toward Xiumin, any act of recognition, would only result in punishment for him. So we just stare into each other's eyes. Xiumin, now a mute slave; me, now headed to death. What would we say, anyway? That we're sorry for the other's lot? That we ache for the other's pain? That we're glad we had the chance to know each other?

No, Xiumin shouldn't be glad he knew me. If I had been there to stop Minho, he wouldn't have stepped forward to save Yuri. Wouldn't be an Avox. And more specifically, wouldn't be my Avox, because President Park has so obviously had him placed here for my benefit.

I twist my wrist from Soonkyu’s  grasp and head down to my old bedroom, locking the door behind me. I sit on the side of my bed, elbows on my knees, forehead on my fists, and watch my glowing suit in the darkness, imagining I am in my old home in District 12, huddled beside the fire. It slowly fades back to black as the power pack dies out.

When Yoona eventually knocks on the door to summon me to dinner, I get up and take off my suit, fold it neatly, and set it on the table with my crown. In the bathroom, I wash the dark streaks of makeup from my face. I dress in a simple shirt and pants and go down the hall to the dining room.

I'm not aware of much at dinner except that Xiumin and the redheaded Avox girl are our servers. Yoona, Soonkyu, Key, Luna, and Taeyeon are all there, talking about the opening ceremonies, I suppose. But the only time I really feel present is when I purposely knock a dish of peas to the floor and, before anyone can stop me, crouch down to clean them up. Xiumin is right by me when I send the dish over, and we two are briefly side by side, obscured from view, as we scoop up the peas. For just one moment our hands meet. I can feel his skin, rough under the buttery sauce from the dish. In the tight, desperate clench of our fingers are all the words we will never be able to say. Then Yoona’s clucking at me from behind about how "That isn't your job, Tiffany!" and he lets go.

When we go in to watch the recap of the opening ceremonies, I wedge myself in between Key and Soonkyu on the couch because I don't want to be next to Taeyeon. This awfulness with Xiumin belongs to me and Yuri and maybe even Soonkyu, but not to Taeyeon. He might've known Xiumin to nod hello, but Taeyeon wasn't Hob the way the rest of us were. Besides, I'm still angry with him for laughing at me along with the other victors, and the last thing I want is his sympathy and comfort. I haven't changed my mind about saving him in the arena, but I don't owe him more than that.

As I watch the procession to the City Circle, I think how it's bad enough that they dress us all up in costumes and parade us through the streets in chariots on a regular year. Kids in costumes are silly, but aging victors, it turns out, are pitiful. A few who are on the younger side, like Sooyoung and Hyoyeon, or whose bodies haven't fallen into disrepair, like Minzy and Brutus, can still manage to maintain a little dignity. But the majority, who are in the clutches of drink or morphling or illness, look grotesque in their costumes, depicting cows and trees and loaves of bread. Last year we chattered away about each contestant, but tonight there's only the occasional comment. Small wonder the crowd goes wild when Taeyeon and I appear, looking so young and strong and beautiful in our brilliant costumes. The very image of what tributes should be.

As soon as it's over, I stand up and thank Key and Luna for their amazing work and head off to bed. Yoona calls a reminder to meet early for breakfast to work out our training strategy, but even her voice sounds hollow. Poor Yoona. She finally had a decent year in the Games with Taeyeon and me, and now it's all broken down into a mess that even she can't put a positive spin on. In Capitol terms, I'm guessing this counts as a true tragedy.

Soon after I go to bed, there's a quiet knock on my door, but I ignore it. I don't want Taeyeon tonight. Especially not with Xiumin around. It's almost as bad as if Yuri were here. Gale. How am I supposed to let him go with Xiumin haunting the hallways?

Tongues figure prominently in my nightmares. First I watch frozen and helpless while gloved hands carry out the bloody dissection in Xiumin’s mouth. Then I'm at a party wh