I stand at the door unsure.

Do I enter or do I leave?

My hand hovers over the handle.

I know it'll be a defining moment. Once I walk through the door, all eyes will be on me. At that point, I wouldn't be able to go back. They would think I am scared.

And I am scared. What if this is the wrong choice? What if they never accept me?

I back away from the door, prepared to walk out of this place, but then, my feet take only a few steps before stopping.

Leaving could be the wrong choice.

"Are you going to go in?"

I spin around to see Blake. How long has he been standing there, watching my internal debate? I know he had noticed me jump slightly at the sound of his voice but he doesn't comment.

"So are you going to go in," he asks again.

"Um, yeah," I say, staring at the door.

"You sure about that?"

I look at him. His voice has a deeper tone to it than usual. There is something weighty about his words.

I may not know Blake well but I don't think he is a malicious person. He doesn't display the same aggressiveness or encroaching interest in me as the other kids do. Right now, though, he watches me with a significant look in his usually neutral expression. There is the promise that what I face inside that room won't be easy. He wants to know that if I decide to walk through that door, I am prepared to stay with my choice.

It is this subtly challenging stare that helps me make my decision.

I want to be strong.

"Yes," I say, my tone serious. "I'm sure."

I have to do this for myself.

Blake just nods.

Without another word spoken between us, I push on the two doors to the training room with both hands. They fly open.

Standing in front of the room that Enobaria had dragged me into yesterday, I have the same uncertainty I had felt on my first day of officially joining the Alphas of the District Two Academy. Just like that time, I'm aware that I am about to enter a place where people won't welcome me.

Though, this time, there is no Blake to help with my decision.

I know I could have asked Alex or Aidan for assistance. But I've never done that. Asked for their help, that is. I don't want to bother them. I can do this on my own.

Without another thought, I walk into the training session.

No matter how subtle I try to make it, my entrance is very noticed. Not every person has stopped training to stare at me but some do. The room has definitely gotten quieter.

I cross my arms and stand casually off to the side, but really, I'm not really sure what to do next as I scan the room. I notice that, rather than fearful glances, most of the people in this room looking my way watch me either a hard stare or curiosity. I hide my relief at the realization that the students in this class are soldiers who won't be scared of someone like me, especially after what Enobaria had shown them.

A middle-aged woman starts to walk up to me from across the room.

When I avoid meeting the grey eyes staring at me, I end up locking gazes with Finnick Odair. He sends me a reassuring smile, which makes me more uncomfortable. We have never been close. Other than the events hosted by the Capitol for Victors, we don't interact. I am aware that both of us are pretty similar by acting in the past like we embraced the Capitol and our Victor status. I know he is not really the huge flirt that he has been on screen. But before I had only seen him as that. I didn't like his easy-going suaveness. At least Cato was honest about his brutality. At least he didn't trick you into trusting him.

That wasn't the only thing about him that bothered me though. Finnick and I had come from similar circumstances. He had been from a Career district. He had killed more kids than I in the Games. Yet, he wasn't treated the same. The Rebels saw him as strong and respectable while I was feared and disliked.

I turn away from Finnick. I know my feelings toward him come from jealousy and frustration. It really isn't his fault that people receive us differently. It is mine for carving Hadrian's heart out of his chest. But I can't help but remember the way the Victor from Four took out all his competitors in the Arena by skewering them with his trident and think that he was at just as much fault as I was. For him it had even seemed easier.

"Soldier Valentine," the woman addresses when she reaches me. "Coin said you'd be joining us today."

I hadn't spoke to Coin but I guess Enobaria did. My mentor had everything planned out to my chagrin. I never told her I had decided to train with the high level class. I wasn't even sure if I would walk through that door.

"I'm Jackson," the woman introduces. "I'm one of the soldiers in charge of this class."

I only nod at her once in acknowledgement.

"Though it's more of a training space than a class. The people in this session are skilled enough to not really need a teacher, so you're free to train as you need."

I nod again, pleased with the information. I like this setup.

"Being in this class also means you'll eventually gain access to weapons of your choice to carry around with you. But…" Jackson hesitates.

"But that requires a certain amount of trust," a hard voice cuts in.

I turn to the man who has joined our conversation. He has unruly black hair and appears to be a few years older than me. "And skill," he adds.

"Soldier Turner," Jackson addresses, eyeing the modern-looking military axe that he grips with his left hand. The weapon isn't raised. It hangs loosely at his side, but any weapon, especially one of that size, along with the dark look he gives me makes me cautious.

I remain calm on the outside but inside, I'm prepared to move if he starts swinging it at me. Once I get my hands on the training knives about ten feet away, I won't be at a disadvantage.

"She's joining our class," he asks seriously.

"Yes," Jackson replies.

The man, Soldier Turner, looks at me with a hard, cold expression before scoffing and turning away. Jackson watches him stalk away to a corner of the room then sighs tiredly.

"You're going to meet a lot of difficult people here," she comments, still staring at Turner as he throws the axe a training dummy. It hits pretty close to the heart and almost knocks over the entire target. If it had been a real person, the body would have fallen to the ground in a bloody mess.

"Not anything I'm not used to," I say honestly.

Jackson looks at me with a new interest. She does this for a little longer than I'd like to ignore before speaking, "Lyme recommended you to Coin. She told us a lot about you."

"Lyme didn't really know me. We weren't even friends."

"She was my friend," Jackson says. "I respected her a lot and I'll respect her opinion. You won't have to worry about me being like that."

I am a little startled by her statement, but I try my best not to show it. "So can I just start training," I ask looking around the room.

People lie all the time. Promises are easily broken. She can easily go back on her words. I'm not one to be trusted. It's just better not to get too attached. At least that way, no one gets let down.

"Actually, someone requested to be your training partner," she says, acknowledging someone past my shoulder. I turn around to see a guy around my age approaching us. I realize I recognize him. It's the soldier who took me to Coin's office and had tried to stop me when I left. "I'll leave you two to it," Jackson tells the guy and I before walking away.

We stand there looking at each other. It's purely analytical. He's taking a good look at me and I'm trying to figure out if he is okay with this set up or if he was ordered by Coin to do this. He breaks the silence first. "I'm Jet," he says.

"Isabelle," I reply neutrally. His tone was calm and casual, not upset with me for hurting his wrist during our last encounter. I wonder if he's a good actor.

"I know," he replies with a small smile. It's not smug or threatening, but polite and nice, which makes me a little more cautious. "So what do we want to start with," he asks, motioning to the equipment in the room.

"You don't have to do this," I state.

"What?"

"Train with me. If Coin forced you to, I'll tell her I don't need a partner."

It's not true. A training partner would be helpful. But I don't want him to be doing something against his will.

"No one is forcing me to. It was suggested that you have someone to train with and I volunteered," he tells me.

I don't ask why. I gave him an out and he didn't care for taking it so he might have his reasons but they're not my concern if he's okay with training with me. Also, if it turns out he dislikes me and wants payback, I'll just be careful and worry about that road when I go down it. I'm no stranger to people wanting to kill me in training. I've fought against many potential and actual Careers. They don't play nice. "What weapons are you used to," I ask, leaving the previous conversation in the past.

"I've trained with pretty much all of them back at Four. I was in the Academy," he replies, going along with my change of subject.

"Then how about the bo staffs," I say, pointing at one of the training racks. I had already guessed Jet's district because of his sea green eyes, a trademark of Four, and his build. I can't help but evaluate people when I meet them. It's a habit that came from years of training to know your opponent, their strengths and weaknesses, so you could survive in the Arena. Jet's build is similar to Finnick's, sculpted and athletic. It comes from an active District Four life, swimming and spearing fish. Wielding a bo staff would be easy after tridents and spears.

Jet nods, impressed with my choice.

Bo staffs are good for combat fighting and effective for training. The Academy had us train with them when we were younger. They helped us with strength, speed, and technique. I was ready to start from the bottom and climb my way up. As Enobaria had reminded me painfully, I needed to get stronger.

"Let's do this," Jet says.