I'm late (Again!) So sorry. Just the story of my life - Spring Break, illness, and homework. Oh yeah. And laziness.

This just getting more fun with each tribute! Thanks for the support you guys have shown - I'm glad you're all enjoying this SYOT. Also, to the Fearless Fox: I don't have any plans for deaths and who'll win and stuff like that yet, just vague ideas. I am, however, thinking a lot about alliances and considering stuff like mutts and the specifics of the arena (I already have my arena, and I'm sure it'll be really interesting, but feel free to submit ideas for points still).

Oh yeah, and if anyone has read my short story Of Berries and Lies (shameless plug!) you might vaguely recognize a similarity to Fox's and Jendra's Private Session.

Answer to question: She was attacked by birds.

Jendra Holland, Age District 9

"Holland, Jendra."

Okay. Deep breathes. It's okay, you're going to do fine…well, no, you're probably going to majorly screw up. Just try not to think about it.

My hands involuntarily ball into fists as I rise from the hard wooden chair beneath me. The attendant looks at me impatiently as I shuffle toward her, a small frown on her face. I guess I couldn't blame her - I was District Nine, after all. Everyone had to get bored at some point.

My eyes flicker across the three tributes remaining - Ade, who sits with her hands primly folded in her lap; the pair from Eleven; the boy from Twelve (Luc is his name, I think) who looks incredibly bored; and his District partner, who seems as if she is about to throw up all over the shiny Capitol floor.

"Holland, Jendra!"

Ugh, that annoying Capitol accent. I rush quickly toward the door just to keep her from opening her mouth again.

"Present," I say, just to annoy her. It works - her surgically-altered nose crinkles, and her brow furrows as if she can't figure out if I'm just being a twit or serious. After a moment of glaring, she sighs, shaking her head and leading me into the Training Room.

I hadn't thought about what I was going to do in my Private Session - planning just wasn't my thing. But now I realized that I should've taken a leaf out of the other tributes books if I wanted to make any impression at all.

The Gamemakers looked bored - incredibly so. They were all picking at the half-eaten feast before them, not even raising their eyes when I come in. Only one gives me an encouraging smile.

I hear the clatter of a door shutting behind me, and when I turn around the Capitol woman is gone. So much for support.

I take a deep breath, stepping forward. Yet still, no one looks at me. I start to get annoyed - it wasn't my fault I was in a higher-number District. I could be just as good as a boy from One, yet they didn't give a damn because they'd been here so long. Maybe they were all getting sleepy because of the feast or just were exhausted, but it didn't matter. It still bothered me - as it always had - that they wouldn't give me the time of day. That they could just pass over me because they were Gamemakers and I'm a boy who might die in less than week's time.

"Excuse me," I say, taking a step forward. "Excuse me?"

Two more look up, but only for a moment.

I feel my hands tighten into fists on their own accord, my teeth clenching. Still, I try to keep calm. At least, for a moment.

I look around me - everything in training is at my expense. But I didn't care about showing off my skills - after all, what are Training Scores, besides lures for Sponsors? They do nothing for my chances in the Games, except to maybe alert the Careers in which order they should kill us all off.

I need something shocking. Something attention-grabbing that will show them that I mean business - that I'm not just someone who can be dismissed and written off as they please. I am not simply a piece in a chess game - I am life. I am so much more. They seem to have lost touch with that fact - the whole damn Capitol has. Otherwise, the Games would be a fairytale. I would be home, doing anything but this - helping my mother in the kitchens or scaling trees in the forests.

Trees.

I look up to the roof beams above me. That is it - the secret weapon that all of District Nine has…climbing.

I grab a rope from the knot-tying station, tying a blunt knife to it and lassoing it over the tallest beam in the room that stretches across either side. It goes over it on my first try, and I lower the rope with ease, snatching a bow before I begin my steady climb. A quick string of knots allows me to scale the whole thing, all the way up to the roof.

As I'm climbing, I feel something I haven't felt in a while - confidence. Ever since my name was pulled out of that stupid Reaping Ball, I have been feeling awful. Nothing ever seems to go my way, and I didn't think the Games would be any exception. But I understood - that's just the way it is. Nothing I can do to change it.

But climbing that rope, higher and higher towards the skylight that covered the whole roof, I felt it - hope. It didn't matter how many sponsors or allies or even weapons I had - as long as I was smart I stood a chance. And the more trees, of course, the better.

When I reach the top of the rafters, I can't be seen from down below, but I can see them. I can't help but give a small smirk to notice that I got the attention of at least half the table. They're all mumbling, craning their necks to see if they can catch a glimpse of me. I stay completely still, balancing precariously on the beam.

Now for the show.

I string a bow as quickly as possible - I'm not the best, but I can handle it and aim well. It fits nicely in my hands, as if it was made for me and only me. It only boosts the new-found confidence coursing through my veins.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper to myself, aiming straight toward the Gamemaker's table.

A quick shatter of glass alerts me that I hit my target - the wine glass of one Gamemaker has completely broken, shards of glass skittering across the floor and dark red wine soaking through the white tablecloth. Desperately, he and the Gamemakers nearest to him try to sop it up, while the others look around confusedly for any sign of me.

I inch a little further along the beam, then shoot down another glass. Then another. Then another.

Finally, only the Head Gamemaker's is left. With my last arrow, I break it apart with ease, and he ducks as wine splatters across the back of his chair.

While they're distracted, I scale back down on the other side of the table, away from their notice. Then, from the shadows of the room, I shoot another arrow right above the Head Gamemaker's head. He looks up in shock.

"Got you," I say quietly, the sound reverberating once around the big room. The Gamemakers all look at me incredulously, but I only smirk, enjoying the last surge of confidence that runs through me.

"You're dismissed," one says hurriedly, looking up from his wine-sodden shirt with fear in his eyes. I smile once more at them, then leave the room.

xxXXxx

Plink.

Plink.

Zzzt.

I give a start as the iron bars of the porch give off a metallic sound, the stone I had hit it with sparking blue for a second before it bounces back onto the deck. Strange. I throw another stone at the bar, and it does the same thing.

"It's electricity."

I give a start at the soft voice that comes from behind me, and turn to see Ade. She smiling in an abashed sort of way, and walks awkwardly toward the seat next to me. "They…they electrified the bars so that we couldn't escape."

I don't respond with anything except a low, "Hmmm."

Seeming undeterred, she takes a steadying breath, as if it will help her find the right words. "I wanted to apologize," she says, almost whispers. "About the alliance."

It's obvious, however, that her answer is still no. I guess I can accept that though, even if it still stings to think that someone dislikes me. Okay, more than stings - it hurts. But it's not like I can change that - what could I do, force her to be my ally? Like that would go down well.

So I remain silent, throwing another pebble at the fence and listening as it makes an electric buzz. A slight blue spark accompanies the noise, then dies out quickly.

"It's fine," I say finally. "I get it - you want to do what's best for you." I laugh. "We all do."

She gives a small smile. "Amaria says the scores are about to come on - do you want to watch them with me?" Her face is cautiously hopeful.

I hesitate for a moment, then give a small smile. "Sure."

Quietly, we slip back into the room, creeping on our tiptoes away from the big room on our floor where Amaria and our mentors were positioned. I have a feeling that we both were getting a bit sick of them. Ade motions quickly toward her room, and we silently slip into it, undetected.

"Yes!" She allows herself a quick but large smile of delight before padding over to the couch in the middle of her room. It is much like the room in which I am staying - same gold and brown decorations, huge bed, everything high-tech and ornate. It made me miss my small little room back home.

"Do you think they'll try to find us?" I say, sitting down on the small couch next to her.

She grins. "After. But I think they don't want to have much to do with us at the moment.

I nod, then flick on the T.V. with a press of a button. The screens slowly comes to life, and the Capitol symbols tells us we are just in time.

"Do you think you did okay?" I ask Ade as the faces of the malicious District 1 Tributes dominate the screen.

She blushes, and I know she doesn't want to tell me. Hesitantly, she answers, "I don't know. I tried my best - showed off my climbing. But I don't think they were that impressed."

"They barely paid attention to me," I grumbled. "They were all too preoccupied with stuffing their faces."

She allows herself a giggle. "When I got in there, one of them was choking because he accidentally swallowed a whole chicken leg. Funniest thing I saw all day."

I grin, and then we watch for a moment as more faces and more numbers flash in rapid succession across the screen.

It's hard to think that almost all of them with be dead in less than a week. It hurts to imagine them - so alive in their pictures, cold and dead. The little girl with honey-colored hair from District Eight. The serious yet goofy-looking boy from Three. Even the prideful, smirking Careers makes my heart twinge. I could imagine all of them - every single one - living the lives they will now never get the chance to have. I see them having kids and getting married and growing old and being friends.

I close my eyes, because it also hurts to know that I am just like them.

"Are…Are you okay?" Ade's soft voice lures me back into the moment, and I look at her soft face - she's one of them too, even if she has accepted it.

"No," I answer. "But that's just the way it is."

As I say this, my picture flashes across the screen, and we both turn to watch with bated breaths.

"Nine," Ade says, her voice simultaneously sounding as the number appears on the screen. "Wow." You can tell by her nervous tone that she thinks she will not do so well.

"Wait," I caution as her picture comes up.

Seven.

I turn to look at her, but she's smiling. A sad little smile, but a smile all the same.

"We'll be okay," she says.

"Maybe."

She turns to look at me with sad eyes. "Well, let's just say that the odds are in our favor."

And I want nothing more than to be able to believe her.

Again, sorry for poofing (hence chap length). I hope you liked this! And if you did, you know what to do!

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Question: How many siblings does Gale have and what are their names?