AN: I'm skippin' the rest of training and going straight to the scores and interviews! "But Amelia, why on earth would you do that?" you might ask, "The training is so exciting and vital to the plot!" The answer is quite simple: It's not. Frankly, the training sessions are boring, hard to write, and not all that important. Sorry to disappoint, if I did, but on to the story!

I gazed up at the screen as I awaited my measly training score. I had been so nervous during the Gamemaker session, and I knew I hadn't done very well. And now that fact would be broadcast to everyone, fellow tributes and possible sponsors alike. Great.

The screen finally flashed to life, and the scores were shown one district at a time.

Gerik Ford, District One, score 10.

Esmerelda Martine, District One, score 8.

Quinlan Burrs, District Two, score 9.

Luana Cartna, District Two, score 8.

Fritz Fieldburg, District Three, score 2.

Lucretia Daneer, District Three, score 1.

Ervin Wells, District Four, score 9.

Jeneva Townsend, District Four, score 7.

Aiden Moore, District Five, score 5.

Farren Ridgemont, District Five, score 1.

Seymour Louts, District Six, score 3.

Shayne Roberson, District Six, score 4.

Sylvester McBean, District Seven, score 6.

Oakley Mackenzie, District Seven, score 4.

Webster Johnston, District Eight, score 2.

Devin Richards, District Eight, score 7.

Lester Farnesworth, District Nine, score 5.

Diane Weston, District Nine, score 6.

Yale Jonas, District Ten, score 3.

Ellema Irwell, District Ten, score 3.

Dagan Barnes, District Eleven, score 2.

Rhodes Washington, District Eleven, score 2.

The moment of truth. I clenched my teeth in anticipation.

Anatole Parsons.

My fingernails involuntarily dug harder into the chair.

District Twelve.

I could feel the sweat trailing from my hairline to my chin.

Score...

I could barely breathe.

A solid 4 displayed itself on the screen under my name and district. I slumped over in defeat. A small hand grabbed my shoulder. Startled, I quickly turned my head around and ended up facing Larissa. She gave a small smile. It's okay. No big deal. You can get through this, her expression seemed to say. The look lasted only a second, as she turned to read her score, but it seemed longer.

Larissa Gerard, District Twelve, score 3.

Larissa bit her lip. I could see tears start to glisten in her blue eyes. Not so easy when you're the one with the low score, is it? I immediately felt guilty for the bitter thought and tried to comfort her.

"You okay?" I whispered.

"No," she sniffed, "We're both going to die, aren't we?"

I remembered when I had said something similar on the train, and she had scolded me.

I thought for a long moment before saying, "We can't know for sure yet, but I promise, I try as hard as I can to make sure you don't die."

She gazed up at me with such a desperate, miserable look when she replied quietly, "But what about you?"

I shrugged. "I'll worry about that later. You are not going to die on me. Do you understand?"

She nodded. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up again, "Anatole?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Thank you. You're like the older brother I never had."

"Really?" I asked, caught off guard by the statement, "Do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah. Two younger brothers, a younger sister, and an older sister. But I've always wanted an older brother, and now I feel like I have one. Didn't you say you had a brother? What's his name; how old is he?"

"Orien. He's fifteen."

"Do you miss him?"

My voice caught in my throat, and I fought back the urge to burst into tears. "So much," I choked out.

Before Larissa could say anything else, a voice called over the intercom, "Tribute interviews are about to begin. All tributes please gather in the designated waiting room so you can get to the stage quickly as possible when your name is called. Thank you."


The "designated waiting room" was simply a room full of chairs, facing a handy television screen in the corner. We walked in, Larissa clutching my arm. Aiden gave me a slight nod, and I went to sit in the chair next to him; Larissa sat next to me. The TV came on, showing Caesar waving frantically to the total surrounding crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman," he announced, "Welcome to the interviews. First is Esmerelda Martine from District One!"

She strode up to the stage, radiating confidence.

"My, my, what a beauty!" Caesar exclaimed, "Please, sit down. Your stylist did an amazing job with that dress! Who did you have?"

Esmerelda smiled brightly and replied, "Only the best for District One, of course. My stylist is the one and only Maurice Gaston. He's simply brilliant."

"I would have to agree! So, are you by chance the niece of previous District One victor Onyx Martine?"

"That would be correct. I really look up to my uncle; he's taught me everything I know."

Everything you know, huh? Like fighting to the death and a taste for human flesh? I thought, and chuckled to myself. If only Caesar would ask that question.

"In that case, you'd say you have a good chance of winning, I assume?"

"I repeat," she said, giving that smile once again, "Only the best for District One."


"Gerik, why did you decide to volunteer this year?"

He smirked, for what seemed to be the eleventh time in this interview alone. "Because I want to win. And, in the end, isn't that all that really matters? People tell me, all the time, 'It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.' They're wrong. It's about winning."

Caesar cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed," he said dryly, "So, a ten. That's a pretty impressive training score. Are you worried that you can't live up to that hype?"

"Not at all. In fact, I find it insulting. I should have gotten a twelve, at least!"

Caesar sighed, noticeably annoyed. "You do realize that twelve is the highest possible score, right?"


"And District Five starts with Farren Ridgemont, age fifteen. Farren, what is your strategy for the Games?"

She swallowed nervously, eyes wide. "I don't want to die."

Caesar chuckled, "Alright, then. Do you miss your family?"

Farren's lip quivered. "Yes. My mother is devastated; she can't bare to lose me. I don't want to die."

"I'm sure no one here does. So, are you going to try extra hard to go home? For your mother?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to die."

She was a bloodbath for sure. Then again, what were the chances I was any better?


"Give it up for that, um... kind young lady!" Caesar's exclamation was followed by a half-hearted applause from the audience. "And now, her district partner, Aiden Moore!"

Aiden walked to the steps with an effortless smile. All freckles and red hair, I was sure no one would be able to take him seriously. Which was why I was surprised when he had such a deep answer to Caesar's first question.

"Have a special girl back home, Aiden?"

"Yes," he replied, his smile changing from crowd-pleasing to wistful, "I have a girlfriend. Norina."

Caesar nodded approvingly. "Pretty name. What is she like?"

"She's... she's just amazing, Caesar. Beautiful: long dark brown hair and haunting violet-blue eyes. And she has this wonderful white smile. It's blinding. She takes my breath away. Every time I see her, I fall in love again."

"So, that means..."

"That's right. I have to get back to her, no matter what."

"Aiden, would you like to say anything to Norina?" Caesar asked, his face softened with sympathy.

"Yes," he said, turning to face the camera, "Whatever you do, Norina, don't cry. I'm coming home, Norrie. Look at my eyes. It's alright. I won't let them kill me. I'll see you soon. You'll carry on until then; I know you will. You've always been stronger than me." He laughed softly.

Just then, the buzzer went off, signaling the end of Aiden's interview. He walked down the steps and back into the waiting room. I tried to get his attention, but he shrugged me off and left the room.


"Oh-hoh! Getting closer to the Games with every interview!" Caesar announced, "Sends chills up your spine just thinking about it, am I right? District Eight, Devin Richards, you're up!"

"Hello," she said curtly.

"Well, Devin, have you enjoyed the Capitol so far?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Honestly?" she asked, in a slightly patronizing tone.

Caesar nodded earnestly. "Honestly."

"No. The colors are too bright, the people are too obnoxious," she glanced meaningfully at Caesar before continuing, "And I have to fight for my life tomorrow. In short, I don't like it."

"Well, someone has a strong opinion!" he chortled, "Everyone here is determined to win, and they're all determined for a reason. What's yours, Miss Richards?"

Devin snorted. "First, don't call me Miss Richards. If you continue, I'll have no choice but to call you Mister Flickerman. Second, I'm determined because I've always been a fighter. I'm going to be a contender in these Games, Caesar. I'll fight until the bitter end. And if I go down, I'll go down a fighter. I'm determined to fight because that's what I do. And hopefully that will be enough to win."

It was official: I was extremely attracted to Devin Richards. Two years younger than me, but with more determination and just plain fire than I could ever hope to have. Everything I want; everything I'm not. And kind of pretty.

"Besides being a fighter, do you have any hobbies?"

"Actually," Devin began, looking slightly embarassed, "I do write a little poetry. It's not the best, but... you know, I try."

"Ooh!" Caesar crooned, sounding intrigued, "Please, share some with us."

"Oh, it's really not..."

"Come on, now! Show us! Show us! Show us!" he brought the crowd in to join the chant, apparently not noticing his misuse of the verb.

She shrugged, regaining her composure. "I guess I could share just one. Here it goes." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and recited in a clear, strong voice,

"A hush falls on the crowd.
The girl with eyes of jade climbs the steps.
From the outside, she is brave, fearless...
But on the inside, she is dying.
Time never rests.
And in the next instant, she is free, boundless...
The girl with eyes of jade lets out a final breath
And says goodbye.
A hush falls on the crowd."


"Yale Jonas!"

"Howdy," the fourteen-year-old from Ten replied.

"You happy to be here?"

"Well, shucks, I sure am. So many purdy ladies here in the Capitol," he turned and hooted, "Howdy, purdy ladies!"

The women all swooned. "Ugh," I muttered. It was like watching a trainwreck. A very, very awkward trainwreck.

Caesar laughed, "I'm impressed. Just how old are you?"

"Fourteen. Why?"

The other tributes sniggered behind me, and someone whispered, "Those Capitol women will fall for anything."


"Last but not least, our District Twelve tributes. Let's kick things off with Larissa Gerard!"

"Hi," she said sweetly.

Caesar smiled. "Aren't you just adorable?"

Larissa giggled, "Oh, thank you." The crowd was eating her up.

"So, how do you feel about going into the Hunger Games?"

"At first I was really scared, but I've met some nice people. My mentor, Aleron. My escort, Frally. And especially my district partner, Anatole. He's a great friend, and he makes me feel protected. I'm still nervous, but I know that he'll do anything to keep me safe. It's great to have someone who cares about me so much."

Dead silence in the waiting room. It was so quiet that I could hear my heart thudding against my chest. Other tributes glanced at me, as if they couldn't believe that the person sitting near them and the person Larissa was talking about were one and the same. I had a hard time believing it. I didn't feel like I had done all that much for her, but somehow, I had. And it felt good. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was worth something, that I mattered.

"How is life back home?" Caesar asked next, shaking me out of my dazed state.

"Not bad. My family is pretty well off for District Twelve. My mother owns the jewelry store, and my father works for the mayor. I have lots of friends too."

"I don't find that hard to believe. You know, the boy tribute from last year was about the same age as you. Did you know him?"

Larissa smiled at the memory. "Yes. Nash was one of my friends, actually."

This earned a few "aw's" of pity from the Capitol audience. "That's a shame," Caesar replied, "You should try to go home then. To make Nash proud."


After some more questions, Larissa skipped back down the steps and into the waiting room. She squeezed my hand. "Good luck," she whispered.

"Next is Anatole Parsons!" Caesar's voice rang out, sounding distant, and as I mounted the stage, I realized I had no idea what my angle was, what I was going to say. Oh well, what's the worst that could happen? Well, I suppose I could end up staring like a dead fish.

"Larissa seems to think the world of you."

"Yeah. That means a lot. She's a special little girl."

"What's you're favorite part of the Capitol so far, Anatole?"

Easy one. "The food, definitely."

Caesar grinned knowingly, "That's my favorite, too. Anything specific that you liked?"

"The pancakes. I've actually never had those before." A collective gasp rose from the surrounding area; even Caesar was open-mouthed in disbelief. Hey, what's the problem with messing with them even more? I wondered with a self-satisfied smirk. "In fact, being able to eat for two days in a row was a nice surprise. I can't even remember the last time that happened." Suckers! These people were as gullible as Frally.

"Oh, that's a shame," Caesar replied, unable to keep the look of horror off his face. He quickly changed the subject, "What's your family like?"

Okay, so that question was slightly harder. "It's... alright. It's just me and my brother, and my dad. My mother's been, um... gone for a while now. Things are pretty quiet around my house. Get three tired, introverted people into the same family, and it can be kind of lonely," I shrugged, "We spend most days -sometimes nights, even- in the mines, so there's not much to talk about that isn't already common knowledge."

"Sounds... downright depressing, actually." I shrugged again. "Is your mother dead?"

"No. She just kind of left. It was years ago, I don't remember her that well anyway. It's no big deal."

"But... she's your mother," Caesar insisted, "Don't you wonder where she is? Don't you care? Don't you think she cares?"

"Hardly my mother. She's gone; she just deserted her husband and two sons -we were only kids at the time, you know- without so much as sending a letter. Ever. She obviously doesn't care. Most of my life I thought she was dead, up until two days ago I didn't even know her name. Real mothers don't do that. Yes, I do wonder where she is, but at the same time, no, I don't really care."

The buzzer rang. "Oh, that's too bad," Caesar sad, "We're out of time. Guess we'll learn more about you during the Games." He stood up, his next words for the crowd, "This concludes the interviews. Tomorrow, the 28th Hunger Games begin!"