The anthem played, but I kept thinking about Octavian's words, staring in the direction that they had gone.

The way he said it implied that killing me was the only step left to wiping out District 3 from this games. Which meant that they had already killed...

Sure enough, when I looked up into the sky, Malcolm's face was staring back at me. Somehow, they had found a picture of him smiling, which was a rare action for him.

Tears filled my eyes. Malcolm and I hadn't been close, but I had liked him, pitied him. I remembered the way he shied away from my attempt to talk to him, how he had screamed at Minerva about how she had ruined his life, how she had made him feel useless. He was a lonely, depressed boy who needed love. And now he would never get any. Just a shallow grave in District 3.

My mind wandered to Minerva. Was she even sad? Did she care enough about her son to grieve for him? Or was she getting her nails done somewhere, grieving as much as she would if she stepped on a spider?

And his father. Malcolm said he didn't care about him, didn't want him. Was he happy his son was gone? He was probably going to get more business for it, from people who were sympathetic.

I'd seen Mr. Pace once, in Grade 1, when he was dropping Malcolm off for school. He had acted coldly, not even saying goodbye to his own son. He was probably glad Malcolm was dead, and was acting as if he was sad, to attract more customers. The thought made me want to punch something.

If I win this thing, and make it home, and it turns out he did do that, then I'll burn his bakery to the ground, I promised myself. Malcolm deserved to have someone care about him in life, and now that no one could do that, I was going to care about him in his death.

I closed my eyes, imagining all the things I could do to Mr. Pace. I had sweet dreams that night.

When I woke up, I untied myself from the tree and climbed down it. My thoughts were straying to Percy.

He had seen me. Yet he had said nothing to his allies. Why? They were looking for me! And we weren't allies. There was absolutely nothing I could offer him.

The only explanation I could come up with was our friendship. Maybe he cared about me to an extent where he didn't want me dead. I imagined myself in his shoes, and realized I would've done the same thing. Maybe we hadn't said goodbye to our friendship on the roof after all.

Still, I didn't put any trust on it. Simply because he winked at me did not mean I could trust him. If I saw him again, I would sprint in the opposite direction.

I opened my second box of crackers and ate some. After eating nothing but crackers for the past two days, the bland crackers were starting to taste... well, bland. More bland than usual.

I remembered the time when the mayor had a financial problem, and couldn't pay Hestia the money she needed to run the orphanage. We had to dig into our savings, and, seeing as crackers are one of the cheapest food items in the market back home, she could only afford to feed everyone crackers for two months. After that was over, I swore I'd never eat crackers again.

And yet here I was, with only crackers in my stomach. I wanted to eat some of my beef jerky, but I was saving it. Those strips of meat would sustain me more than the crackers, which meant I would need them more in the long run.

I pulled out one of my water bottles and drained it, before relieved myself in a bush. I hoped no cameras were on me, but seeing as I'd never seen a tribute go to the bathroom before in my seventeen years of Hunger Games watching, I assumed I wasn't on screen.

After I was done, I went to the river and refilled my water bottle, before heading back into the forest. I was hoping to find some animal, like a hyena or dingo, to kill and eat.

The sweltering heat seemed worse today. I was debating pulling off my shirt and walking around in my bra. The embarrassment might be better than this. I could tie it around my head. I remembered reading in a book somewhere that that helped.

That was when she appeared in front of me, knocking me to the ground and sending my knife flying out of my hand faster than I could process her being there. It was like she had appeared out of thin air.

She kneeled down on my arms, effectively pinning me to the ground. I tried to free myself, but it was no use. She weighed too much, and was too strong.

"You killed Jason," Thalia growled. There were tear stains on her cheeks, as if she hadn't stopped crying since Jason died. "Now, I'm going to repay the favor."

She raised her spear above her head. My eyes widened in terror. This was it. I was going to die. Just like my father, taken by surprise, never really having a chance to fight. I would never get to punch Mr. Pace in the face, or see Hestia again, or do anything with my life. I closed my eyes, and waited.

That's when I heard someone scream like a banshee, and my eyes snapped open. Something human-shaped jumped out of a tree above us, and knocked Thalia to the ground with deadly aim.

I took me awhile to process what was happening. The curly-haired boy from District 12 had taken Thalia completely by surprise, and in her stunned state, the boy brought my knife down and stabbed her in the heart. He must've grabbed the knife after he jumped out of the tree.

"Yeah, that's right!" He shouted as a cannon went off. "No one can beat Leo Mcshizzle, Bad Boy Supreme!"