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Caelia Harlow
District Two Female, 18 Years Old
"Ines Maiva."
Shooting her a glance as she stands up, I nudge Larron in the arm, both of us watching her walk through the doors. She sneers as she begins to walk, her shoulders rolling back. She steps through the doors quickly, immediately closing behind her. I roll my eyes, knowing that she won't fair too well in the Games.
Not with the Careers placing a target on her back, anyway. Do I have a personal vendetta against her compared to the others? Yes. Why? Because she left and let Liora in. Ines might not be the most compatible person for me, but she's better than Liora.
Well, from what I've seen of Ines, anyway.
Liora's a whore. Ines is just a bitch. There's a difference.
Like Larron; sure, he can be immature, but so can Trent, and they're both competent. Darya is quiet and competent, and Darien is just funny and somewhat competent. Liora is stupid and is fruitless. At least Ines could bring something to this alliance.
After a few more minutes, Ines comes back through the doors, her hair disheveled. As she walks passed me, I pucker my lips and blow her a kiss, making Ines look away with a smirk on her face. Darien sticks out his tongue as she exits the long hallway.
"Larron Arlett."
I give Larron a forceful pat on the shoulder just as he's about to stand up, bringing him back down a little. He nods his head, one of his smiles on his face. He goes through the doors, not looking back at me or Darien. I look over to Darien who was staring at him, and when we make eye-contact, he makes a face.
We both like Larron and Larron likes both of us.
He isn't the strongest or the most intimidating, but he serves some purpose. I'm sure he can kill if it came down to it as well, so I have nothing against him – not like Ines. Besides, Larron is rather nice to everyone, so there's that. He isn't annoying like Trent or detached like Darya.
If he doesn't make me angry I won't hate him, it's as simple as that.
Besides, he's kind of cute. Cute in a childish way, where you want to poke him on his cheek and watch him giggle about it. Not the type of cute where I'd sleep with him – that cute is usually for older men.
I don't mind older men.
"Caelia Harlow."
I stand up immediately, turning towards the tributes down the hallway. I wave at them all, lingering my fingers in front of Darien's face. He rolls his eyes, pushing them to the side with his hand. The doors slide open as I approach them, and when I step through, they close.
It's all up to me now.
I take my time to step into the Training Center, thinking about all of the things I could do. Swords are kind of boring, as is throwing knives and bow and arrows. Running would get me too worked up and I wouldn't have enough time for anything else. They don't care about survival skills or anything like that.
And apparently having sex with them is off limits. I'm really not too sure; I got what I wanted from it back in District Two, so what's different here? They wouldn't even have to pay it; it'd be free of charge.
Turning the corner, I enter the Training Center, looking bigger without all of the other tributes in it. I walk towards the balcony where the Gamemakers are standing, shimmying my shoulders so my hair falls down a little. Appearance is just as important as skill.
That's one thing I learned from Enobaria.
And I take everything she says to heart.
"My name is Caelia Harlow and I am from District Two," I say loud enough, staring right up at them. "But I'm sure you already know that."
The Head Gamemaker waves their hand, and my first instinct is to go right to the swords. Gripping one in my hand, I hold it above my head, walking over to the dummies. I begin to hack away at them, not really dodging the pieces of stuffing and parts of the dummy that come my way.
I keep tearing it up, over and over again, not paying to how much time I'm spending. It's just like the time I've spent in the Training Center back in District Two, with everyone looking at me. Everyone staring at me, their bottled up judgments that are completely deluded.
They didn't know me.
And neither do these Gamemakers.
Grunting, I bring the sword down with much more force than before, slicing the whole thing in half. The sides drop to each side, and when it's down on the ground, I spin around, stabbing the sword through the chest of another dummy behind me. Ignoring the hair that's dangling in front of my face, I glare at the Gamemakers, only realizing this now.
It's people like them I'm trying to show something to. Will getting a score really prove anything, though? No. Only winning can, and that's what I have to do. I have to win… I have to win to prove to everyone that I'm not the priest's daughter or the basket-case.
I'm so much more than that.
Why can't anyone realize this?
Without giving the Gamemakers much of a good-bye, I walk out of the Training Center hurriedly, not in the mood to stay and watch the other tributes walk in here either. I just want to get back to District Two's floor, to lie down, and to sleep. In two days, the Games will start.
That's all that matters.
I just have to make it to the Games. The Games I so whole-heartedly volunteered for, what made me rush up to that stage in the first place. I brought myself to this place, to the Capitol with one goal in mind – to win. Winning… it's the only thing that can help me. That can save me from my life back home. That can open up new opportunities.
It's why I volunteered.
This wasn't just because I was chosen.
This was because I wanted to prove myself.
To show who I really am.
Cerise Hessian
District Eight Female, 18 Years Old
"Salya Ionatti."
Watching the girl stand up from her seat, I see her exchange some words with her District partner. The boy smiles, and as the girl walks away, he watches her walk away. Once she's gone through the doors, he leans back, his arms crossed over his chest. After a few moments, he begins to shift in his seat, unsure of what to do with his hands now. It's only been a few seconds away from his ally and he has no idea what to do with himself.
Allies are stupid.
It's plain and simple.
Allies just open the door for betrayal. To be backstabbed in a heartbeat, just to protect oneself. And, truthfully, I would betray an ally. I would kill them without even flinching, since at the end of the day, it's all about me. It's all about me coming back to District Eight, to bring home the title of victor.
So what if I was reaped? Does that not make me eligible enough?
Really, I do apologize I'm not as trained or as strong as the Careers, but trust me, I can handle myself. I could probably take one of them too, but who would be stupid enough to do that? I would only get in a fight with a Career if I had no other choice. I might like taking risks, but I know my boundaries.
"Dalton Taylor."
As Salya passes her District partner, they exchange a glance now, the look on both of their faces being completely childish. Salya walks passed me now, and quickly, I stick out my foot, wanting to get in her way. She stops, looking me up from my foot to my face. I pucker my lips, waving at her with my finger-tips.
"Keep moving," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Unless you have something to say."
With my hand, I dismiss her, waving her away. She continues to walk, her arms held tight to her side and her fingers shaking. I roll my eyes; it's cute to see someone with such latent anger. But, if you don't do anything with all of that emotion, what's the point?
Why feel anything if you won't do something about it?
To my left is Wick, sitting quietly and all pressed up against the wall. He's just as bad as Salya and Dalton, apparently, with his newfound alliance with that girl from District Twelve. I don't even know how it happened or when it did, but he was talking about it last night. I look at him, tempted to speak to him, but I won't bother him. He doesn't get all worked up like the others do, so his self-control is just tedious to me. It's no fun if they won't play back.
One thing I learned is that you have to get in the mind of your competitors.
"Cerise Hessian."
At the sound of my name, I stand up, beginning to walk towards the doors backwards. I see everyone looking at me now, a few of them looking away once we make eye-contact. Most of the tributes that already went left the hallway altogether and I don't blame them.
This is just a waste of time.
It's whatever, though. I don't mind being able to show some of what I'm capable of doing to the people who's sending me into the arena in the first place. If they know what I can do, then they won't be as surprised once I win.
I walk through the doors, holding out my hand behind me as the doors automatically close. I don't waste any time, going right to the Training Center and standing below the Gamemakers. Standing there with my hands wrapped over each other in front of me, I smile, seeing all of them looking at me now.
"My name is Cerise Hessian," I state. "And you won't be disappointed."
Nodding my head, I walk over to the area with most of the weapons, heading to the knives. Back in training, I didn't spend too much with weapons, but I did what I could. How hard is it to wield a knife, anyway? All you have to do is be quick with it and be one step ahead of your opponent.
Gripping one of the longer knives in my hand, I hold it up sideways, looking at myself in the reflection of it. I see my whole face, the face I can never get tired of seeing, the face that everyone here will see more of. The face that will soon be broadcasted all over Panem.
The face that will go down in history.
Holding the knife to my side, I approach the circle of dummies. I step in the middle of them, now getting into a fighting stance. I spread my legs out, hold the knife up, and tilt my head. Giving the Gamemakers one last glance and smirk, I finally begin with the show.
I attack the dummy in front of me first, slicing the knife upwards near its neck. It leaves a small slit, only some of the stuffing spilling out, and then with another quick movement, I slit the face of the dummy. Spinning around, I stab the dummy behind me in the stomach with the knife.
Two down.
On the dummies, I see the faces of all the people I've loathed. Of all the people that twisted my mindset, that made the person I am today. My parents. My sister. All of the people that hated me, the ones that spread rumors and gave me a bad name. With these images, I begin to attack the dummies with more anger, the thoughts of them in the back of my mind.
They are the ones who I'm going to prove wrong.
They are the ones that will be scared of me now.
After stabbing the knife in one of the dummy's heads, I leave it there, backing out of the circle of dummies. I look over my shoulder to the Gamemakers, and once I turn the corner out of the Training Center, I let out a deep breath. I let myself get angry – I let myself slip up.
I can't get angry. I have to keep a level-head. An emotionless, stoic, unfazed head. I can't let these emotions wrap me up, to distract me. I can't feel any emotion.
I have no use for them whatsoever.
I never have, anyway. Emotions were always a distraction. Any emotion was always put under a mask, a façade for all of District Eight to see. As a kid, I was overly emotional, the kind that of kid that I hate now. That I pity. I was always so giddy, so happy, so outgoing. But, I eventually saw the problem with this.
And one day, I told myself to grow up. To stop being so weak, so sensitive. To just get over it.
So, I did.
And I haven't felt anything since.
Garret Orson
District Five Male, 18 Years Old
"From District One: Ines Maiva with a score of – seven."
Clara sits up in her seat next to me, sneering. She cackles, turning her head back and forth, looking for someone to entertain her. She quiets down after a while, seeing as no one says anything to her or looks at her. She's always been like that ever since we got to the Capitol; always needs the attention of others.
Besides, why did she laugh at the girl from District One? I saw them once together in the Training Center but I never thought much of it. For a second, I thought that they were allying, since that girl wasn't in the Careers and all. Maybe they were just chit-chatting then.
"A seven," Clara scoffs, kicking her feet up onto the table. "How sad."
"Larron Arlett with a score of – eight."
Clara mumbles something to herself again, and as I watch the boy on the screen, I shift in my seat. That's two tributes down now, both with a score that isn't expected from a District like One. Usually, tributes from there get at least a nine or ten, but this year, they got a seven and eight.
Does that really prove anything, though?
I guess it makes you look better. If Taima, Zimmer, and I were to get somewhat high scores, it'll attract more sponsors and make us look more of a threat. I don't expect us to get an eight or anything, but I can see us getting above average scores.
"From District Two: Caelia Harlow with a score of – nine."
And there's the Career score that we were all waiting for. Clara just nods her head, as do both of our mentors. District Two always looked more threatening than District One, and with Caelia getting a nine, that was just proven. Now we know who to stay away from when it comes time for the arena.
Taima and Zimmer never really spoke about it much, but we don't really have a plan. All Taima said was to get in and get out, carrying whatever you can if possible. Can I see us getting out of the Bloodbath? Yes. But, I don't know how much further we can all make it.
There's only one winner, after all.
"Darien Faust with a score of – eight."
"The Careers aren't as strong this year, huh?" Clara says, but really, does she have any right to judge? Does she think she'll get a score of eight or higher?
I knew she had an ego, but I didn't know it was this extensive.
I remain quiet, not wanting to antagonize Clara or want to regard her at all. Both of our mentors keep quiet as well, just letting Clara do her thing and give her comments on each tribute.
"From District Three: Emery Adrion with a score of – four."
Clara laughs, probably because this is the lowest score we've seen so far. It isn't that surprising either, since we're out of the Career Districts until District Four. The girl's is on the screen, her smile making her look younger than she probably is. I remember that she's allying with her District partner, Gage, who will probably get a higher score.
They seem like a strong alliance that we'll have to look out for.
"Gage Orsini with a score of – five."
When you think about it, a five isn't bad, seeing as that's about average or a little higher than most tributes. People always compare every tribute's score to ones that Careers get, but it depends on the person. I don't really think they prove much, anyway, but for now, a five is good.
I wouldn't mind getting a five.
Clara would probably scream if she got a five, though.
"From District Four: Darya Mercado with a score of – eight."
"Another eight?" Clara sneers, slamming her feet down on the ground. "It's getting even worse."
Once again, these training scores don't reflect anything. It's based on a one-to-twelve scale, so how much could it prove, anyway? An eight is considered high, which is kind of hard to get, while a three is considered low. If someone was smart, they would pretend to be weak so they could get a low score and go into the Games under the radar.
I didn't think of that, though. Taima told me to try my best, anyway.
"Trent Ethillion with a score of – ten."
"Is that high enough for you, Clara?" I let slip out, which is a big mistake. Clara cranes her head towards me, a smirk on her face, her eyes all beady.
"Do you think you got a ten, Garret? I predict a two for you."
I did better than a two.
Looking away from Clara, I focus on the screen, seeing Clara's face appear. She stares at her own face with such attentiveness you can tell she enjoys this all. That she's revolving around this score that you'd think this is the only thing matters to her.
It shouldn't.
"From District Five: Clara Novisont with a score of – six."
"A six?!" Clara booms, throwing herself back in her chair. "A six, really?"
A six isn't bad.
"That is just terrible. Even Ines did better than me!"
Maybe the Gamemakers didn't like your attitude.
"Garret Orson with a score of – four."
Ameren, who is supposed to be Clara's mentor, pats me on the shoulder. He nods his head, and as I look at my face one more time, the four begins to disappear.
I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to think. It isn't the worst score, but it isn't the best, either. Only one other tribute has scored a four so far, so technically, we're both the lowest. It could be worse, though.
I could've gotten a one.
"From District Six: Liora Marcette with a score of – five."
"Oh! The whore!" Clara says, her voice sounding more excited now. Just from that one six she's acting like this. "A five!"
Liora's face sits on the screen, but next up is my ally, Zimmer. I didn't expect much of a score for myself, but I think Zimmer can get at least a five. He knows how to work with traps and wires and such. Taima will probably score the highest out of all of us, but I'll have to wait and see.
Zimmer's face comes up on the screen, and Clara says his name, but I'm not paying enough attention to her to actually hear what she said. It probably wasn't anything important.
"Zimmer Hexley with a score of – five."
I sit up in my seat, smiling a little, wishing I could see what Zimmer's reaction would be. Clara says something again, but it doesn't matter what she says anymore. She has no one else to worry about – not like I do. I have two allies, two people that I care about.
It might be a tad unconventional, but we work well together. And who knows, maybe one of us will become the victor, even if it's a morbid thought. Is it bad to think that two of us will have to die just so that one will win? I want to win, and even though I would never admit it to them, I would rather survive than let them win.
I just want to go back to District Five.
I don't need any of the fame or wealth that victors get from the Hunger Games.
District Five was enough for me.
Trevor Santos
District Eleven Male, 17 Years Old
"From District Seven: Salya Ionatti with a score of – six."
Kicking my feet up onto the table, I bring my hands behind my head, making myself comfortable. I rest my head on my hands, lean back, and watch the scores flicker across the screen next to their faces. I take up most of the couch, but I had the decency to let Daisy sit on the floor.
She seems okay.
As Salya's face fades off the screen, her District partner's face comes up. He's a young boy, a scrawny one at that.
"Dalton Taylor with a score of – four."
I chuckle at his pitiful score, being just about average. I hope he doesn't feel proud of himself or is getting any satisfaction out of this. A four is truly awful, a score that basically shows you that you're going to die soon. Like, really, really soon. The Games start in about two days, anyway, so he might as well appreciate his life for whatever time he has left.
I really don't feel bad for him.
Some people just aren't cut out for the Games.
"From District Eight: Cerise Hessian with a score of – six."
Another six for another outer-District female. That's something you don't see every day – or at all, really. Salya and now Cerise getting high scores, and before, so did the District five female. This still doesn't frighten me, though, since I know I can kill whoever I want to.
It'll be easy.
I'm strong. I'm unfazed by the idea of murder.
"You got that, Daisy?" I say out-loud. "I'm not afraid to kill."
"Wick Cresswell with a score of – four."
I chuckle again, seeing the face of the boy I was apparently supposed to ally with. Our mentors arranged it, but once I saw him in training, I knew that there was no way. He's lanky, weak, and could barely lift up a sword. The idea was there, but I would never stoop down that low and ally with someone like him.
I'm better off on my own, anyway. Less to worry about it and anyone would just weigh me down.
Daisy's at least trying to keep herself alive by allying with those two boys, but it won't happen. She's dead either way, so she might as well just jump off her pedestal. It'll save us some time and it might even distract everyone enough for me to get away more smoothly.
Not that I'm worried, but still, her just killing herself would help in more ways than one.
"From District Nine: Ardell Chanson with a score of – five."
It's not as good as a six, but it's still impressive for District Nine. Most District Nine tributes die in the bloodbath, so I expect as much from someone like her. I don't recall seeing her too much back in training, but maybe I missed out on something.
Probably not, though. A five isn't even that good.
None of these scores so far are that good, except for the Careers, but even then, no one exceeded a ten. So, really, are they that impressive? They're all below the untouchable scores, the ones that you never see anyone get. A few years back, the highest score was an eight.
The highest score this year has been a ten, and who knows, maybe I'll get higher than that.
"Riel Seiholdt with a score of – four."
Apparently, the girls are doing better than the boys this year. Just wait until my face appears on that screen, a shining eight next to my face. That'll show everyone what I'm all about.
That I'm just as good as the Careers.
That I'm better than them.
"From District Ten: Taima Larkin with a score of – five."
This was the girl that my mentor also told me to look out for. Chaff said that maybe I should ally with her, but once again, I declined. I think she's allying with the males from Five and Six, so she's fine now, anyway. I would've probably killed in the Bloodbath – what could she do for me?
Would she keep me alive?
No. Only I can do that.
"Veles Ryman with a score of – three."
I laugh.
A three.
What are the chances that Daisy will do worse than that? Veles face slowly disappears off the screen, and as it's replaced by Daisy's, I shoot her a glance. She's sitting on the floor still, her knees brought up tight to her chest and with her arms wrapped around them. Seeder is standing behind her, a worried expression on her face.
I don't blame Seeder. Daisy is pathetic.
"From District Eleven: Daisy Mills with a score of – two."
"A two!" I exclaim, clapping my hands behind my head. Seeder looks over at me, her eyebrows furrowed. She kneels down, whispers something to Daisy, but Daisy doesn't say anything.
She probably has no idea what's going on.
She's just that stupid.
"Trevor Santos with a score of – seven."
A seven? A seven?
"Are they fucking kidding me?" I shout, sitting straight up. I watch my face on the television, the number seven right next to it. It wasn't the eight I was expecting, that's for sure.
A seven.
"A seven is good. What are you worried about?" Chaff asks, but I disregard his unwanted comment. This isn't about him – he would've been happy if I received a three. He doesn't actually care me or Daisy.
My face slowly fades off the screen, being replaced by the District Twelve's female face. I roll my eyes, my fingers curled up into a fist.
"From District Twelve: Lavender Argus with a score of – five."
I don't care about Lavender. I don't care about her score.
I only care about me. About my score.
What did they not see? I used a sickle, I showed off how fast I could run, and I showed confidence. What makes me different than a Career? Because I don't have proper training and that I'm not self-righteous, egotistical, and deluded?
Is that what the Capitol wants?
"Allan Barre with a score of – three."
I'll show them.
I'll show them that I'm worth more than a seven. That I'm not the typical District Eleven boy, one who will die right away in the Bloodbath and whose name will go down in vain. That seven proves nothing.
I deserved more than a seven.
And I'll prove it.
Author's Note:
And there are the Private Sessions and Training Scores!
This update might have been a tad late, but hey! Life! I have Driver's Ed and work now and I've been having more of a social life lately, so it kind of gets in the way of writing, you know? But, here's another chapter, so don't worry.
So, some questions:
What did you think of the Training Scores? Did any surprise you?
Some general comments on the tributes and stuff would be nice to read as well. Anything, really. I appreciate everything you all say and take it all into consideration. (Except a few people, but I won't mention any names.)
That's enough from Cashmere67 for now.
