Private Sessions
Expected Value

Expected Value: The long-run average value of repetitions of an experiment.

Cosima Byte, 18
District Three

The Gamemakers already looked bored by the time she walked in. Cosima shook her head as she made her way over to the weapons. They'd only seen One and Two so far – and her district partner. But whatever Stanley had done couldn't have been that boring, could it?

Cosima shook the thought from her head. Whatever he had done, it wasn't her problem. This was her chance to show what she could do. Immediately, she reached for one of the longer daggers and began slashing away at the nearest dummy. A few of the Gamemakers turned to watch as she switched weapons, choosing a smaller sword – a rapier, she was pretty sure, was what the trainer had called it.

After that, she grabbed a few knives and slashed up a few more dummies, then used the last few minutes to sort a few plants for good measure. Maybe it wouldn't earn her a great score, but she wanted to give the impression that she could keep herself alive – not just kill other tributes. Because in the end, the Games were about both. Being able to slaughter tribute after tribute meant nothing if you accidentally ate a few poisonous berries and took yourself out of the equation.

By the time she was done, more of the Gamemakers were watching. But they still didn't look terribly impressed. Cosima shrugged as she headed for the door. Sure, she didn't have the same skills as a Career, but what did they expect? The Careers had been doing this all their lives. She'd only had a few days to practice. Considering that, she had done pretty well.

Whether they agreed or not, she would find out soon enough. But maybe that didn't even matter, really. Training scores were a good way to win sponsors early on, but they could also mean getting targeted by the Careers, and that was something she definitely didn't want.

Merric Belgrave, 18
District Four

He'd been trying to come up with something the Gamemakers wouldn't have seen before. After thirty one Hunger Games so far, they were probably getting tired of seeing tributes walk into their private sessions and slice up a bunch of dummies. But what else were they supposed to do?

That was the question he'd been mulling over the night before, but he'd finally come up with a satisfactory answer. As soon as he walked into the room, he got to work rearranging the dummies. Positioning one here, another there, then stringing a rope around some of the equipment in just the right places.

Finally, everything was ready. Merric grabbed a spear and got to work. As he raced around the room – faster and faster – he sliced into one dummy, then another. A stab here, a slice there, moving through the makeshift obstacle course he'd constructed. Dodging equipment, ducking here, jumping over a pile of weapons there. Finally, he threw the spear, slicing through the rope he'd strung up, sending a pile of rocks tumbling onto the last of the dummies.

Only then did he glance up at the Gamemakers. A few of them were smiling. One even started clapping. Merric grinned and took a bow. If nothing else, he'd certainly made an impression. He'd gotten their interest. And that was the whole point of the private sessions – wasn't it?

Merric was still smiling as he left the room, giving Freya a thumbs-up as he passed her on her way in. She would have a lot to live up to if she expected to make an impression now. But that wasn't his problem. She wasn't part of the Career pack, so she didn't have to worry about whether the other Careers would be impressed by her score.

All she had to worry about was impressing the sponsors, and her story about volunteering to help her mother would probably be enough to gain her some sympathy in that area even if she did score low. "Good luck," Merric called as the door closed behind her. A few of the other tributes looked surprised, but at least none of the other Careers had heard him, or they might have wondered if he was thinking about joining her.

Wade Larthey, 12
District Five

Wade still wasn't sure what he was going to do as his name was called. Emerson gave him a confident thumbs-up, as did Dexter, but he shrugged it off. It wasn't as if any of them were going to get a high score anyway. Younger tributes usually didn't … and when they did, it tended to arouse suspicion. If the Gamemakers thought a younger tribute had a good chance in the Games, the other tributes assumed they must be hiding some sort of deadly skills.

But he wasn't. He wasn't hiding anything. Not much to hide, really. So as he entered the room, he headed immediately for the trap-setting materials and found a good spot. Some rope, some materials to camouflage it with, and enough equipment surrounding him to rig up a passable trap. Wade stretched a little, uncoiled some of the rope, and got to work.

It was slow going, but hopefully speed wouldn't be the most pressing matter when it came to the Games. Hopefully, he would have enough time to find a good spot and actually prepare some sort of trap. The Careers usually stayed around the cornucopia for at least a little while after the initial bloodbath, giving the other tributes the chance to spread out a little and get comfortable before they went on the hunt.

Wade laid some of the rope along the floor and started tying knots. A knot here, a knot there – enough for the trap to hold its shape. Then he started camouflaging it, humming a little while he worked. Almost forgetting about the Gamemakers watching him until one of them called out that he only had a minute left. Wade leapt to his feet, panicked. Only a minute? What was he supposed to do? The trap wasn't anywhere near done.

Well, crap. He worked as long as he could, but had to stop once the Gamemakers told him his time was up. Shaking his head, Wade left the room, ignoring Emerson's smile and wave as she passed him. What was she so excited for?

Isabella Thatcher, 18
District Eight

It took Isabella a moment to notice the trap on the floor, but once she did, she nearly burst out laughing. She'd been worried about how she would be able to set up a complete trap in only fifteen minutes, but someone had already done most of the work for her. All she had to do was tweak a little here and there. Whoever had left it obviously knew what they were doing; they'd probably just run out of time.

But she wouldn't. Isabella used her crutches to hobble over to the station, wondering how long the trap had been lying there, untouched by the tributes coming and going. Most of them had probably chosen to demonstrate some sort of weapons skills, deciding not to bother with the trap station at all. It could have been sitting there for hours…

Isabella quickly settled down and got to work. Pulling a little rope here, tying an extra knot there, and adding a little camouflage where she could. There were still a few minutes left by the time she was done, so she headed over to the weapons stations and grabbed one of the dummies. It took her a little while to drag it over to the trap, but it was worth it. She quickly threw the dummy to the ground, springing the trap.

Immediately, the net of rope closed around the dummy, lifting it off the ground. Isabella grabbed a spear and stabbed the dummy clean through, hoping she had made her point. If she had the resources to prepare a trap, she wouldn't have to win by overpowering the other tributes in a fight.

At least, that was what she was hoping. Because her chances of actually beating another tribute in a fair fight were slim at best. Isabella glanced up at the Gamemakers as she hobbled out of the room, using her crutches to bat a few stray weapons out of the way. Maybe she wouldn't get an amazing score, but at least she'd shown them that a broken leg didn't mean she was completely helpless. That had to be worth something.

Martha Cabott, 15
District Nine

Martha didn't even bother glancing at the survival stations as she entered the room. That wasn't what the Gamemakers wanted to see. Fire-starting, shelter-building, net-making … all of those things were good to have some experience with, but, in the end, they weren't what the Games were about. Tributes didn't win the Games by building shelters. They won them by killing the other tributes.

So that was what she would have to show them she could do. Martha chose a dagger and sprinted towards the nearest dummy, hacking it apart as quickly as she could before turning to the next one. And the next. Maybe there wasn't much to be said as far as technique, but after ten minutes had passed and she was still hacking, hopefully they had realized that she had the stamina to keep going.

That was when she put the second part of her plan into action. Now that some of the Gamemakers had grown bored and weren't paying attention, she started ducking towards the ground as she moved from one dummy to the next, casually picking up a few knives and tucking them in the pockets of her training outfit. Once one of the Gamemakers announced that fifteen minutes were over, she stopped, tossed the dagger to the floor, and headed for the door.

Then, on her way out, she stopped short. "Oh, wait," she remarked, and began to empty her pockets. Three knives, a slingshot, and a small blowgun – along with an assortment of rocks that had fit with the rest. She thought she heard one of the Gamemakers chuckle, but she didn't bother looking up to see which one.

Maybe some of them had noticed that she had been scooping up objects. Maybe none of them had. Hopefully, they'd gotten the point – they couldn't afford to take their eyes off her simply because her weapons skills probably weren't the most impressive. It wasn't always the most skilled tribute who won the Games. Sometimes, it was simply a tribute with a quick hand and the determination to keep going.

Dexter Guernsey, 13
District Ten

As he entered the room, Dexter glanced at the assortment of knives, smaller weapons, and even rocks laid in a heap near the door. What were they doing there? The Gamemakers seemed rather intrigued, watching closely as he entered the room. Dexter gulped. He had been expecting them to be a bit tired of watching tributes by now. He hadn't been expecting them to pay this much attention to a younger tribute from Ten.

Maybe the girl before him had done something to grab their attention. But whatever it was, they were watching him now. Dexter shrugged as casually as he could, scooped up the weapons, and carried them back to their respective stations. Then he got to work.

After a few minutes of piling up twigs and starting a fire, however, he had a better idea. He took the weapons that had been in the pile by the door and stuffed them in his pockets, along with a few more knives. Then he headed for the climbing station and made his way to the highest point that he could. He glanced over at the Gamemakers, who were watching curiously.

He took out the blowgun first, using it to shoot darts at a few of the dummies from the safety of his perch. Then he began throwing the knives. From this distance, only a few of them actually hit the targets, and he only got one to stick really well. But it was something. If he was throwing knives at the other tributes, he didn't need to get lucky every time. He just needed to get lucky once.

Once he ran out of knives, he started throwing the rocks. By then, he was running out of time, but he kept going until the Gamemaker announced that his time was up. Immediately, he clambered down and put the rest of the supplies back where they had come from, cleaning up after himself and probably quite a few tributes before him. Dexter gave the Gamemakers a smile and a wave as he left. Sure, he was terrified and would be fighting for his life soon, but that was no reason to be rude.

So here's how the scores are going to work. I put 40 slips of paper with numbers in a cup. One "1", two "2"s, three "3"s, four "4"s, five each of "5"s, "6"s, "7"s, "8"s, and "9"s, four "10"s, and, just for good measure, one "11". Mostly because I wanted to err on the side of giving someone a higher score than they deserved. (Since these scores won't really determine anything and "keeping things realistic" is going out the window soon anyway, might as well make people happy.)

For each tribute, I drew a number out of the cup and then put it back. To represent the built-in advantage that Careers have going into private sessions, I drew two numbers for each of the Careers and took the higher of the pair. Just wanted to let you know that if some of the scores seem a bit high next chapter ... that's why.