POV Sofia

There is an awkward silence between us throughout the rest of the day. I am embarrased. Is it just that obvious that I like Toby? Does he like me back? What if he's gay? He can't be. I need him to like me! We learn how to build a fire with flint and wood, and also how to make a snare. It's been a successful day. I head back to dinner exhausted. I sit down at one of the tall wooden chairs, and place my napkin on my lap. My eyes find my hands and I freeze. My long fingers. The soft arch of my knuckles. The smooth short nails that have been trimmed down to the beds. These hands could either be cold and lifeless or stained with blood of another tribute in a few days. I push the thought out of my head, and turn towards the food. Tonight it's porkchops. As I pick up a piece and put it on my plate, Toby's foot accidentally nudges mine. I kind of jump in shock. I tell myself to chill. It was just an accident.

POV Toby

After dinner I collapse on my bed and immediately surrender to the waves of sleep.

POV Sofia

The days fly by with a blur. Before I know it, it's time for my private session. I'm so nervous. I don't what I should do. Should I do knife throwing, or something I've learned this week? They call Olivia, and then Toby and I are alone. I decide this is it. "So…" I turn to him. "In the arena, would you like to be allies?" I can see him processing the thought. He slowly nods his head. "Yes."

I sigh. It's now or never. "Good, because I love you." He opens his mouth. "Wait, what?" But then the gamemakers are calling his name. He shakes his head and stands up to leave. "Good luck!" I call, but he doesn't acknowledge it, and leaves me alone, with my embarrassment and shame.

POV Toby

I can't think about her right now. Not Sofia. This is just a mess. I walk into the training center, where I see gamemakers sitting around a table covered with food. My stomach churns. "Uhh. Toby Owens, District 12." I turn and look around the room. What to do? Not knives. Remind me of Sofia. Finally I decide to try aces again. I pick one up, and adjust the cool metal handle in my hand. Then I lean back and whip it foreword. It flies and misses the target by a few inches. I groan. Then I try again. This time it hits the target. The next one misses. Finally the fourth one sinks right into to middle. Sweat drips down my forehead. One of the gamemakers turns to me. "Thank you Toby. You may go now." And so I walk out feeling dejected and worried.

POV Sofia

They are calling my name. I walk into to center, walk straight over to the gamemakers table and give a deep curtsey. "Sofia Hawthorne. District 12." I walk immediately over to the knives, my special beautiful weapon. I pick one up, with a short blade and a hem encrusted handle. I casually flick it through the air, where it lands in the center of the target. The next one lands in top of that, and sticks like during the first day of training. The next one lands on top of that, and the next one on that. I throw 17 knives before I finally miss. Then I turn, curtsy and leave.

POV Toby

Nervous nervous nervous nervous nervous. They are announcing our scores! We all pull around the television, and wait with bated breath. The careers all get 9 or higher. My Andrew included. The rest score 7 or below, the blind girl from five included. The man from nine has just received a 2 and the female a 5. Now they are calling my name. I hold my breath, and my nails pinch into the palm of my hand. I hoping for the best. Caesar Flickerman flips over his paper. His color this year is white, which makes him look really old. " Toby Andrews…. With a score of 6." I sigh. Well, I could have done worse.

POV Sofia

I can see the disappointment in Toby's face, but I can't wait to see my score. " Sofia Hawthorne…. With a score of 9." Wait what?! I scream with excitement. A nine! That's like a career!