They call me in, and a Peacekeeper leads me into a massive room, closing the door behind me. I feel like a kid in a candy store when I see all the weapons. I need to start off impressive, and then close off with a big bang.

"You may begin," the Head Gamemaker tells me. I nod and grab two handfuls of knives and start chucking them at random targets around the room. Each knife sticks right on the bull's-eye. I use as many weapons as I can to show that I can handle any weapon I'm given before I close with the hatchet. I pick one that looks so scary; I'm almost reluctant to even touch it. But I do, and it is lighter than it looks.

What to hit…. I think to myself, examining the many practice targets. I settle on two dummies that have an eerie resemblance to a real human being. With my hatchet, I hit all the right spots, slicing off limbs as I go and move on to the next one, perfect. I feel a cocky smirk on my face as I look at the remains of the two dummies. I'm definitely getting an eight.

I have about two minutes left, and I can't exactly just sit and do nothing for that time. I decide to just do some stunts with the hatchet. I get a running start and launch off the wall and flip backwards, driving the hatchet into one of the targets. Then just as my time is up, I fling it and am satisfied when it lands in one of the trees used for camouflage demonstrations.

I look towards the Gamemakers. Some are nodding there heads, some are actually grinning, while a few just examine me.

"You may go now, Miss Pollwood." I bow and step out, walking past the Avoxes standing by the doors. I step onto the elevator and hit my floor number. I have a huge smile plastered on my face that I don't think is going to fade for a while. I think I gave it my all, and I have no doubt in my mind I will see at least an eight under my picture tonight.

"Hey Laney, can I talk to you about something?" Billee says as soon as I step off the elevator. Oh no, what does he want? Did he somehow find out who I really was? No, calm down, you always jump to conclusions too soon, I remind myself. I always do this, so I keep up the smile and nod my head.

"What's wrong?" He asks, as if he noticed a change in my expression.

"Oh, um, nothing. What did you need?" I ask sweetly. He dismisses it and lets me know that we are due after lunch to work with him and Ian for interview prep. Ian will coach us on presentation, Billee on content. I sigh in relief when he is finished.

"Ok, thanks," I tell him. He raises an eyebrow at me, then shrugs and walks away.

"Oh, by the way," he says, making me freeze up, please don't say it! "Meet for dinner before they show your scores." Again, my body relaxes and I nod, not looking back and giving him a chance to read my expression. I hurry into my room, locking the door behind me.

I sit down on my bed, going through the menu. I whisper into a small mouthpiece my order and it is instantly there. I munch on frog legs that don't taste as bad as they sound. I'm going to have to get used to eating strange stuff. I mess with the window some, zooming in on random areas in the Capitol, laughing at the most ridiculous of people. Even their pets are freakish, unnatural pink and blues and greens and oranges.

Even if it meant not being forced to take part in these games and enjoying all the luxuries of being a Capitol citizen, I wouldn't trade it for my life back in District 2. Just looking at some of these people and their surgically altered bodies and faces triggers my gag reflexes. Someone is knocks on my door,

"Come eat Laney!" Ian chirps from behind the door. I open it and follow him to dinner. My mouth waters at the assorted smells in the room, and I levitate towards a bowl of warm lamb stew. Our stylists are eating with us, and I feel engulfed in a sea of strange colors seeing as Ian, Lazaro and Quirita are all in their usual ridiculous attire. My taste buds explode at the flavor, why can't we have this stuff at home! Ian is pressing us for answers about how our private sessions went, what we did, how impressed they look. I let Joan answer while I enjoy the stew. But sadly, it's gone before I've had my fill, though I'm full.

"How did your private session go?" Billee asks, eyeing me curiously.

"Good. I'm sure I got at least an eight." Joan nudges me in the ribs.

"C'mon, I'm sure you did better than that."

"Well I don't want to get my hopes too high," I admit sheepishly.

"I've seen what you can do, and if you were hiding your best skills, there's no doubt you could pull better than an eight," he says. I narrow my eyes at him. Is he trying to play some game, mess with my head? I have accepted that I must trust no one and he must have done the same, and this praise from him makes me think he is working on a plan. Does he think he's going to get me to go easy on him or something? Maybe he was being sarcastic.

"Maybe I will. Who knows, I might have more up my sleeve than anyone expects," I respond. There, let him try and figure that out! It seems to have the desired effect, because he looks at me with a confused expression. I smirk and grab a roll, ripping off pieces and stuff them in my mouth. We retire to the TV room as they are beginning to announce the scores. A picture of the tribute appears, then there score flashes under it. Pearl gets an eight, Denim a nine. Haha, enjoy your score Pearl.

Joan's picture appears and a ten flashes under him. He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly as shouts of encouragement from everyone in the room. A hush falls as my picture pops up, and I clench my hands in fists as I wait for the score. A bright ten flashes under my picture, and my fists unclench. My lips curl up into a genuine smile as I receive encouragement as well. Yes! This is better than I hoped for! And the first thought that is in my mind is Pearl's reaction. Angry, irritated, shouting obscenities at the screen. Man I really don't like her…

I lay down on my bed, just staring at the ceiling. I'm contemplating on asking Billee about my situation; see if he knows how this could affect Laney, or anyone I know for that matter. What if he reports me? What if my idea gets Laney executed. If he did tell anyone, I can assure myself that my time in the arena would either be short, or a living hell. I decide to sleep on it, and make a final decision in the morning.

The morning comes quickly, but I don't feel like getting out of bed. And I have no reason to until noon. I toss and turn for some time, still thinking about telling Billee. I list out all the possible outcomes in my mind, and come up with so many I don't even know which ones would be a possibility. After a lot of back and forth argument in my mind, I make a decision. I get a quick shower before Ian's at my door informing me its lunch time. I skipped breakfast so my stomach is growling, and I could really go for an apple. Wait! Laney hates apples, and I was eating them like a pig that one day in front of Joan! I know he knows Laney hates apples! Urgh, why couldn't I have volunteered during the reaping, or better yet, just have had my name drawn from that stupid glass ball! Maybe he overlooked it and I'm overreacting again. I need to stop that now.

Of course, there is a bowl of apples on the table mocking me, and I resist the urge to grab one. But while Joan isn't looking, I slip on into my pocket, satisfied that I will have one later.