I open my eyes, to see a bobbing set of rainbow coloured eyes staring down at me, giddily. I squint to take a closer look, but the set of eyes jump backwards, tugging on my arms to get wide awake.
"Wake up!" She beckons, and I notice its Redah, our escort. I haven't seen her ever since the train ride.
"You have to get ready! Private Sessions start right after breakfast!" She delightedly proclaims, flipping the covers off my bare legs. I yell at her, "Hey!" but she doesn't reply. All I know is she dispatches a clump of blue clothing into my arms.
"What's this?" I look sternly at the clothing.
"You're training attire," Redah smiles, "Tammy wanted me to give you this, wouldn't want you to be running around in your normal wear, " She winks. "Which is why I gave you this."
The next thing I know, I'm in the bathroom, with a brew of pink bubbles sitting in the tub, waiting for me to enter in it. I take a cautious step in, and I judge that it's good enough.
"Now, I'll leave you here, Tammy here with the team, now. See you at dinner!" Redah leaves the bathroom door open. I wait inside the tub, until I hear clanking footsteps nearing me.
My team looks very stylish, gold, diamonds and gems hang down from each of their bodies, and each one of them has three products in hand. I give them a scared look, wondering what they'll do to me.
One of them starts rubbing some gooey gel into my hair, making me somewhat feel good. Another stretches out my leg, careful not to bob any other part out of the water, and starts rubbing it with some liquid soap. My hair is 'normal' now, considering it only took one wash.
They let me step out of the tub, leaving me to wear my outfit. It's a nice blue sort of jumpsuit, fitted to the body, even more to the hips. I towel dry my hair and get suited up. The shorts end right up at my knee, and the shirt is sleeveless. I tie my hair up into a ponytail, hair spiking out of nowhere. When I face the full body mirror, a true career greets me.
I step out to the dining area, where the careers are packing themselves with food, each taking more servings than I could ever stomach in a day. They stuff their mouths with food, trying to get as much energy as possible. They'd be lucky not to puke all over the floor of the training centre by the amount of food they're taking in.
They look at me, and I see one trying to stride up to me, but her district partner pulls her back. They whisper something evil about me. I roll my eyes and stare at the banquet table. As usual, what's left of the food is there for me, the other half inside the careers' full bellies. I stack up my plate, ignoring the stares and glares of the pack, looking as if I copied their method of energy gathering. I walk away from the table.
By the time we're finished with breakfast, an announcement booms throughout the training centre.
"Attention, tributes of the 63rd Hunger Games, private sessions will commence in a few minutes. Please get in-line by district. Thank you." And the careers start going wild.
They start cheering and shouting, bragging about their skills that they will show the gamemakers.
I see Costello in the whole crowd of tributes, looking pretty nervous. Well, I couldn't blame him, I am nervous, too.
We get started, and the districts fly by in seconds. The first one steps out smiling, though breathing heavily. I think the obstacle course is going to be challenging.
District 2 flies by with two of its tributes huffing and puffing, though clearly bluffing by the looks of their faces. A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead. This is not the time to break.
District 3's darlings come out, wire scratches upon their cheeks. They might've invented or made a trap in there, to use on the dummies.
Then it's my turn. My heart starts beating faster and faster by the second, as I enter the room filled with intimidating stares from the gamemakers. These are the people in-charge of my death in the arena, so I better make this well.
They stare down at me, and I stare back at them with a strong smile plastered on my face. I eye the obstacle course I'm about to step into, and it looks complicated; wires to climb over, nearing dummies you have to kill, hard rock climbing walls, slippery slopes, and on top of that, traps all around. This looks like a death trap itself.
The gamemakers are eating away, feasting their eyes on my every move. I step on the platform, my heart racing like I've just ran a marathon. I look up and one of the lady gamemakers shoot me a thumbs up and then I wink.
Beep! The horn blasts into my ears, and I start running. I notice there are spears placed with maces and bows and arrows carefully placed on the floor, and I know this is a trap, but I carelessly pick up the spear anyways, bracing myself for a sudden boom or a trap to hang me upside down. But nothing comes up.
I continue speeding through the course, leaping over obstacles, but probably, the dumbest thing happens, I trip into thin air. When I collect myself back up, I notice some of them are snickering silently. I stop and glare, trying to prove my superiority. But, I make a comeback. When I spot a dummy going near to me, I hit it squarely in the stomach and collect the spear followed by a backflip over a trap. I never knew I could do that.
I continue sprinting through the track, when a rock climbing wall finds itself into my face. I fearlessly clutch on a piece of rock, only to find myself slipping off it easily. I get desperate when I fell countless times, so I started jamming my foot in every crenel, as opposed to clambering up the wall and slipping every given moment. I'm almost out of breath, but I want to keep going.
After I slip and slide through the wall, I jump off the wall and head on over to the next obstacle. I'm weapon less, because my spear had imbedded itself into the dummy's stomach.
I've landed on a slope, and somehow, gravity hates on me right now. It's pulling me down, where like a fully armoured dummy stands. That would probably break my foot with the touchdown.
Closing my eyes, like a scared child, I slide down the slope, waiting for the wracking pain that is sure to control by the next second. But what happens when I open my eyes is that I kicked it straight in the face, and I actually knocked it down. It's either training dummies are so flimsy, or I just kick hard when I'm scared out of my wits.
Sweaty and spurted with a bit of fake blood, I collect myself up onto my feet.
A few stray claps come from the gamemakers, but none the less, they stop.
"Thank you," I say while turning my back to the gamemakers. At least they're not drunk over wine to go screaming at me, or chase right after me.
I step out the doors, and there are a few scratches on my clothing, and a stitch of fabric was torn from my pant leg.
I get away, and I just want to stick around. About thirty minutes later, Pine comes out sweaty and blood stained, though I can tell she was chucking axes, by how she's letting her arms droop to her sides.
Willow comes out later, looking a bit less grotesque than me, looking much cleaner.
After everyone is finished, we all gather into the banquet room for lunch, then start staring at the screen.
An 8 for both Topaz and Max, a 9 for the rest of the careers. I'm wondering what they did in there to get a high mark.
I wait anxiously for my face to flash into the wide screen, and then it does. Surprisingly enough, I get a 10. The career pack eyes me jealously, trying to make me feel bad of getting a higher mark than them.
I allow myself a small smile, and I know it's not time to sleep yet, but it's just early so I let myself a small nap. It can't hurt, can't it?
I plop down onto my bed, waiting to drift off into sleep. Crazy things fill up my mind fast, about the stares and the snickers, the mad glances and the obstacle course. Of course, I let it all slide and I sleep it off, because I need rest to be upbeat and happy for the interview angle.
All that's on my mind is, The interview later on.