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They start to call our names out as we sit in the dining room. One by one, the tributes leave for their private session. I don't miss the scathing glance that the boy from District 2 shoots in my direction. I feel a little apprehensive. I don't care why he seems to dislike me above all the other tributes, that's his problem. What I care about is that if he has some private vendetta against me, he's sure to single me out in the arena. I'm clever, I can hunt, but without a weapon I can't fight off someone as big as him.
Peeta's name is finally called and I find myself worried about him. Not because I care about him or anything, definitely not, but because I feel like I owe him something. Because he saved me when I was 11 years old. But how can I pay him back now?
"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights." I blurt out as he rises.
"Thanks. I will," he says. "You…shoot straight." I nod. I'm not really sure why I said anything at all. Yes, I owe him, but me reminding him of Haymitch's advice doesn't really even us out.
If I die, I'd rather he win than anyone else. If Peeta wins then District 12 will be better off. They'll be showered with luxuries all year. Prim and our mother wouldn't have to worry about feeding themselves. I know that that's not what they care about though. They just want me home, safe and sound.
Fifteen minutes pass before my name is called. I stand and take a moment to compose myself. This is it. My one chance to show the Gamemakers that, despite being from District 12, I have a chance in these games. I am not to be overlooked.
As soon as I walk in, I know that my earlier thoughts were right. They've been here too long, sat through too many unimpressive demonstrations. They're not interested anymore. They probably don't think that a girl from District 12 has anything worthwhile to offer.
Determined to prove them wrong, I hold my head high and walk straight over to archery station. I have to physically stop myself from groaning out loud out of longing. Oh, how long I've waited to get my hands on these. These beautiful bows that could have been made just for me.
I pick a bow, a silver one, and sling the matching quiver of arrows over my shoulder. I turn to the targets, the life-sized dummies, and pull back on the bow. Instantly, I know something isn't right. I release the arrow and I know that it won't meet it's target; the bow is too tight and the arrow too rigid.
As predicted, the arrow misses the dummy by a few inches and the few Gamemakers that had been watching me give sympathetic chuckles and lose interest instantly.
I feel a definite anticlimax in my spirits. That's it. That was my one chance. I'll end up with a low score, maybe even a zero, and no one will sponsor me. Sponsors can send you anything from a bottle of water to an incredible weapon, made to suit your needs. Training scores are important, they let the sponsors know who's worth spending their money on.
I don't want to give up though, not now, I need to do this for Prim. I promised her.
Holding my head high, I draw another arrow from the quiver and position it on the bow. I pull the string back and take aim. I let it loose and this time my arrow soars through the air and hits the dummy right in the heart. Excellent.
I turn to see what the Gamemakers make of this. Only a few were even watching me and even they were watching half-heartedly. The majority of them are focused on the roast pig that's just been brought in.
Suddenly I am furious. My life may literally depend on this and they don't even have the courtesy to pay attention to me.
Without thinking, I draw another arrow from the quiver and shoot it straight at the pig, skewering it through the apple that had been placed in it's mouth, pinning it to the wall behind. The chatter and laughter stops and every one of them turns to face me in shock. I don't have time to feel embarrassed or ashamed of my actions because I'm still livid.
I give a small bow, keeping my eyes on them the whole time. "Thank you for your consideration." I say flatly. I fling my bow and the quiver of arrows to the floor and walk out of the room without being dismissed.
I sit in my room, staring at the opposite wall as my anger at being ignored starts to ebb away. It doesn't take long for it to be replaced with blind panic. What have I done? If I had a low chance of getting a good score before, I have absolutely no chance now. My actions will surely not go unpunished. They won't arrest me, why should they when they're putting me in an arena where my chances of surviving are 1 out of 24? What I'm scared of is them going after my mother and Prim. And Gale. I couldn't stand it if they went after them for something that I did. I rest my head in my hands and sigh. The Gamemakers will really make my life hell in the arena now. More so than it would have been without their contribution. I'll be lucky to make it through the first day.
I can't sit on my own anymore. I can't avoid the others, either. They'll realise what's happened when they see the training scores anyway. I make my way into the living room with a heavy heart. Everyone's there. Effie, Haymitch and Cinna are sat on one end of the sofa and Peeta and Portia on the other. I take a deep breath and drop down in the spot between Peeta and Cinna. I feel guilty. Like I wasted all the work Cinna did to make me unforgettable in the opening ceremonies. No one will want to bet on the Girl on Fire if she gets a score of zero.
The others make polite chit chat as we wait. I don't join in.
"OK, enough small talk - just how bad were you today?" I hear Haymitch say.
"I don't know that it mattered." Peeta says. "By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."
This makes me feel a little better. True, Peeta didn't attack the Gamemakers like I did, but at least he was provoked too.
"And you, sweetheart?" Says Haymitch.
"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." I mumble ashamedly.
Everyone seems to freeze.
"You what?" Says Effie in horror, confirming my worst suspicions.
"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just…I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" I say defiantly.
"And what did they say?" Asks Cinna slowly.
"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that."
"Without being dismissed?" Asks Effie with a gasp.
"I dismissed myself." I say. Even as I speak I can feel my heart dropping. I had promised Prim that I would try, really try, to win. And I've gone and shot an arrow at the Gamemakers, almost certainly earning myself a zero.
"Well, that's that." Says Haymitch, and he butters himself a roll.
My stomach tenses when the first photo of a tribute flashes on the television screen along with their training score. They start with 1 and then work their way down to 12 which means I have an unbearably long wait to find out mine. The Careers score between 8 and 10, naturally. Most of the others have earned themselves around a 5. The most surprising one is Rue. The tiny twelve year old who reminds me so of Prim has earned herself a 7! I'm glad for her, someone as tiny as her needs all the help she can get. Though, judging from her score, she's not as helpless as I initially imagined her to be. Peeta manages to pull up an 8. At least some of the Gamemakers must have been watching him and been impressed with his strength.
I find I'm holding my breath and staring fixatedly at the screen as my photo comes up. I'm bracing myself for the horribly low score when I see an 11 flashing across the screen.
11.
11?
Am I seeing things? Have I somehow acquired double vision and I've actually scored a 1?
No, everyone around me is congratulating me. I scored an 11. Higher than any of the Careers. 11!
Prim will be so proud. And my mother, and Gale. In fact, everyone in District 12. It's been so long since they've had someone with an actual chance of winning and now they have two!
Pleased with my training score though I am and feeling altogether better about my survival in the Games, I still can't drift off to sleep. I toss and turn in my bed until I can't stand it anymore. I throw back the silk sheets and swing myself out of the bed. I glance out of the window before deciding to go up on the roof. I'll be able to breathe some up there; this room is a little suffocating.
I pull on some plain black trousers and a green top before leaving my room. I pad up the stairs and out onto the roof where the cool air greets me. I drink in the cool air gratefully and it seems to clear my head some.
I take a step forward and then stop abruptly; I'm not the only one up here. I can see the silhouette of a boy on the ledge overlooking the city. I assume that it's Peeta and make my way over. It occurs to me that I never congratulated him on his training score. I was so relieved and wrapped up in my own success that I forgot to acknowledge his.
I sit down opposite him and look down over the city. Even at night the Capitol is alive with lights and parties and music. I suppose for them, the Games are just an excuse to celebrate. Celebrate the inevitable deaths of 23 children, I think bitterly.
It's dark up here but out of the corner of my eye I can see Peeta watching me closely. I turn to face him and open my mouth to congratulate him but stop when I see that I'm not in the company of the boy who saved my life when I was 11, but rather the boy who seems to have an inexplicable grudge against me.
"Katniss Everdeen." He says when our eyes meet. "The Girl on Fire, they're calling you."
I stare at him stupidly for a few moments, my mouth gaping. "Sorry," I mutter finally. "I didn't realise any of the other tributes were allowed up here."
"We're not." He says.
I look at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate but he doesn't. He just stares at me. His gaze is still icy cold but a little more intense. This is the first time I've been alone with him, the first time I've been alone with any tribute aside from Peeta, and I intend for it to be the last. One minute in his presence in the arena and I'm sure it will be my last.
"Ok, well, I'll leave you to it." I say, wanting to get away from him and his strange glares. I push myself up and start to walk away when his voice seems to cut across my path almost, barring my way back into the building.
"You really caught everyone's attention in the opening ceremonies." He says. "You caught my attention, too. Given our situation and where we're going, that's not something you want to do."
Ah. Here it is. The reason behind his bizarre grudge against a girl he's never (until now) met. I stand still with my back to him and I hear him get up. He comes around and stands in front of me. He really is huge. One of his arms is the width of both of mine. It's not an encouraging thought.
"You got an 11 in training. Not only have you caught my attention, Everdeen, now you've singled yourself out as a worthy opponent."
A worthy opponent. Coming from anyone else, that would be a compliment. Hearing the words come out of his mouth, though, I know he means it as nothing more and nothing less than a threat.
"Is that a threat?" I say, feigning confidence.
"It's a fact. Once we're in that arena, you're going to want to watch your back. Because I won't stop until you're dead."