Franz Kubo, 18, D2

I stare at myself in my bathroom. With so many emotions running around in my head, it's taking a toll on me. On my mind. On my body. My cheeks are more sunken in, my skin is paler. I might as well be looking at a stranger.

I push myself away from the mirror and get dressed in the "nicest" athletic clothes I can find in my Capitol provided attire. While many might just wear the same clothes they've been wearing over the last three days, I might be able to make myself stand out.

After getting dressed, I head into the main living area, where Tatiana is already sitting. She's pushing around some strawberries on her plate, and she doesn't look up when I walk in. I pour myself a glass of water and take a seat close enough to her to have conversation if she desires, but not close enough to draw her attention towards me. Not that it really mattered. She seems to lost in her own mind.

I doubt the other Careers have picked up on Tatiana's tendencies, but I certainly have. There's been something big on her mind ever since she volunteered. Something bigger than the Hunger Games. What that is, I'm not even close to figuring out. But I can't let it bother me. Infact, I shouldn't even be thinking about anyone else right now. I need to prove myself to the Gamemakers. I need a good score.

So I finish my water and head directly towards the elevator. Something must catch Tatiana's attention, because she joins me besides the elevator just as it arrives at our level. We ride down alongside the unsettling boys from Nine and Ten. Although the boy from Nine was barred from training for the majority of it, he somehow got an alliance out of it. At first, neither of them stood out to me as capable enough to cause the Careers too much of a headache. But when they're together…I don't know. They creep me out.

Thankfully, we reach the training room and Tatiana and I find the rest of the Careers waiting together. Jade and Marissa sit next to one another, while Harrison and Serenity are trying to keep some distance between themselves and the rest of us. Do I blame them? Not really. But I don't think it's a good look.

There's some small talk, but for once we're all pretty calm and cordial. As the waiting area fills with the rest of the tributes, the chatter grows and grows until an announcement silences us all.

"Henry Haines, District 1. Please report to your private session." Henry winks at us all before disappearing through the double doors. Jade snickers and whispers something in Marissa's ear that I don't quite catch. Whatever it is, Marissa finds it quite funny.

After about ten minutes, Jade is called back. Then, it's my turn.

"Good luck." Tatiana says to me after my name is called. I nod at her.

"You too." I say. I straighten out my shirt and head in.

As I walk in, I'm initially overwhelmed by all the stations I have to choose from. It's like a condensed version of our training room, even including a few trainers to spar with if I so pleased.

Stick to the plan. I find a decent sized crossbow and stand in front of a series of targets. I could start shooting now, but instead, I use a small control panel to activate the targets. Some move backwards, some move side to side, some do a combination of both. I raise my crossbow and shoot the target furthest away, hitting it directly in the bullseye. I repeat that, over and over again, going for the most difficult targets first. By the time I finished, nearly all the targets have a bolt in the direct center, minus one or two where I barely missed it.

Once I'm done, with the few minutes I have remaining, I hand the crossbow to a trainer and I go and stand within the target range. The trainer looks unsure, but I'm not. I haven't felt this confident in a long time. The trainer aims for me, and I dodge his shot. He shoots again, I dodge. This is the game we play for the next few minutes until the Gamemakers dismiss me, unscathed. As I leave, I feel as if I've made a good impression. I hope my score reflects it.

Heather Monroe, 16, District 5

Charon and I sit side by side as the Gamemakers work through the list of tributes. As Kalen is called up, I prepare for my turn. Unfortunately for Charon, he still has a long time to wait.

"What are you going to show them?" He whispers in my ear.

"Why would I tell you? Just for you to steal my idea?" I shoot back. Charon laughs. I glare at him for a second, but his reaction pulls a smile out of me.

"Okay hothead. Don't tell me. I'll just make up my own version." He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

"You're not creative enough for that." I shoot back, hoping my comment will make him reveal his ideas to me. The truth is, I haven't given my private sessions much thought. That's a lie. I haven't given them any thought. But I'm sure I'll be fine. I might even be as impressive as the Careers.

"Heather Monroe. District 5." I stand up and head right for the doors.

"Good luck." Charon says, somewhere between mocking and endearing. I don't acknowledge him.

I feel surprisingly calm, all things considered. With every station available to me, I decide to stick with what I know and head over to the throwing knives. I grab a handful and I go and stand in front of the series of targets. Without much thought or hesitation, I throw each knife at the various targets until there's none left. To my surprise, about three quarters of my knives ended up in the targets, and a little less than a quarter of those hit near the bullseye.

Good. But not good enough.

With only a few minutes left, I collect my knives and I climb to the top of the agility course. I can see a few puzzled looks directed my way, but I ignore them. They should be paying attention to me.

Before I can second guess myself, I start sprinting and leaping through and over obstacles, all while throwing knives back down towards the targets. Somehow, more knives manage to embed themselves in the targets compared to the first time, although less are bullseyes.

I finish off the obstacle course with style, managing to make the last knife throw a headshot in the training dummy. As I climb down the course, I hear a few polite claps coming from the Gamemakers. I don't thank them. I don't even acknowledge them. I just walk out.

Aeliana Decima, 18, District 8

I sit tucked in the corner of the room. Despite the room clearing out one by one, I don't move from my position.

I wipe my hands onto my pants to dry them off. I didn't think I would be this nervous. I didn't think I'd really care, to be honest. But I guess I do.

"Aeliana Decima." The announcer calls my name. I take a moment to stand up and stretch out my legs before entering the room. I notice a few lingering glares on me. No surprise there.

Last night, after training, I realized there's nothing I could show the Gamemakers that would give them a sense of my true potential. No weapon, no survival skill, no neat trick. They wouldn't know the true Aelina if I didn't add my own flare to these meager 15 minutes. So what did I do? I added some flare to my athletic outfit.

My leggings are my own simple creation. One leg is simple black material, part of the pants I've been wearing during training. The other leg is covered in prints, circles on top of triangles, emphasized by the bright blues, oranges, and whites that color it. I sewed the two legs together myself with the minimal material I was able to scavenge around the training facility. It's incredible what stylists will leave just laying around. I'm surprised no tribute has ever tried to use this stuff maliciously. Maybe they have and we just don't know about it.

In complete contrast to my pants, I wear a backless bright white tank top and a white cropped hoodie. The white top blends in with the white part of my hair, which I've put up into a high ponytail.

I can tell the Gamemakers weren't expecting this from me, nor any tribute probably. Most of them give me a strange look, but none of them say anything. They just wait.

Okay. Show them what you got. I walk straight up to the short swords and pull out the one I've become most comfortable with during training. I eye the trainer and get prepared.

Within seconds, I'm swinging at the trainer, dodging his attacks with ease. We do this for a bit, each taking our turn trying to land a fatal blow, but I hold my ground. I see an opening and after he takes one more attempt at hitting me, I dodge underneath the dulled blade and end up behind him, my sword on his back.

I hear a few meager claps from the Gamemakers, but whatever interest they had when I entered has seemed to fade completely. I clench my jaw and feel my grip tightening on the sword handle, but I find it in me to redirect the energy back to my session. With less than half my time remaining, I switch out my sword for an axe and hack away at the training mannequins they have set up. By the time they dismiss me, I'm not feeling great about my session.

Just another series of people that disappointed. What else is new?

Harrison Jones, 17, D11

I had anticipated the wait before my private session to last forever. But one by one, the room cleared out as tributes cycled in and out. There was decent chatter for a while, but once the Careers had cleared out, everyone else went silent.

I've been sitting next to Serenity ever since then. She sits on a bench, hunched over, eyes glued to the floor. I've thought about trying to distract her with a conversation, but my mouth is dry. Nerves, I guess.

Soon, she's called in and I'm left alone. Well, not fully alone. Seia's still here, and the tributes from Twelve and Ten. But with everyone spread so far apart, I might as well be alone.

Despite how quickly the first eighteen sessions flew by, waiting for my turn after Serenity left felt like a million years. By the time they call "Harrison Jones" my legs are sore from their restless ticks.

I get up and put on a face of confidence as I enter the private sessions. I can tell immediately that the Gamemakers couldn't care less about me or what I have to offer. I wonder how long it took them to reach this point.

They probably stopped caring after the Careers. I hide my eye roll as I walk up to a trainer and grab a sword, ready to fight. I try to suppress my anger, anger stemming from the fact I know the Gamemakers aren't paying attention. They don't care about the districts, especially not the tributes they pull from them.

I clench my jaw as I lunge towards the trainer. I'm quick, and I take him off guard. He stumbles back to avoid my blow and tries to return his own, but I dodge it. I move to the side and take the chance to advance. He blocks it this time, and I have to back up to avoid a hit.

Our sparring goes on for some time, slowly wearing us both down. I keep my strength up and I notice an opening. I go in for the "fatal blow".

Nothing from the Gamemakers. I make the mistake of looking up at them, and not a single one is looking at me. I think a few are even asleep.

I clench my fists and almost open my mouth to say something. Almost. I manage to hold my composure. I end up with a club in my hand and take out my anger on the poor training mannequins that have been battered and bruised from every other tribute before me.

"Thank you Harrison. You're dismissed." I hear as I decapitate one last mannequin. I lower the weapon and turn to face them.

I'm about to just walk out when something hits me. An idea. Not necessarily a good one, but…I can't help myself.

So I stand in front of the Gamemakers and I proceed to tell them a few…interesting things about my fellow tributes. Things I've noticed over the last week. Things that apparently none of them had picked up on, based on their reactions. Somehow, this information is way more interesting than the skills I just showed them. But I ignore that. And by the end of my little speech. I'm feeling good.

Seia Loom, 14, District 11

"Seia Loom. District 11." I sigh as I stand up to enter the room, leaving the two from Twelve in here alone. I'm ready to get this shit over with.

As I enter, I notice the Gamemakers are whispering to one another. I had expected many of them not to be engaged with the tribute's performances by this point, but, well, Harrison must have caught his attention. I wonder what he did.

I stop thinking about Harrison and go straight for the plant identification section. Within a few minutes, I scored nearly a perfect score at it, as expected. Whatever.

Since that didn't take as long as I anticipated, I move over to the agility course. I take a deep breath before climbing, jumping, and sprinting across the course. I almost tumble off near the end, but manage to regain my balance and complete the course in nearly record time. Nothing I haven't done before.

I do find myself out of breath after the course, and with only a few minutes remaining, I build a simple yet lethal snare that immobilizes my target, allowing me to plunge a knife into their hearts. A very quick yet impressive feat. If only I can get my hands on some rope in the arena.

"Thank you. You're dismissed." The head Gamemaker says to me. I gladly rush out of the session, relieved that it's over. I know scores are an important part of the game.I know sponsors can make or break tributes in the arena. Over and over again I've seen tributes come back from the brink of death because of a single vile of medicine, or small container of water. Things that cost nothing to these Capitol freaks. But I don't have the energy to pretend to care.

I return to my floor to see Harrison sitting with our mentor, Lance. Harrison's not making eye contact with Lance, and Lance looks slightly frustrated.

Great. As soon as they realize I'm here, both of their eyes fall onto me.

"What?" I ask, slightly harsher than I intended.

"How did it go?" Lance asks me, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. Harrison looks to the side.

"Fine. It was whatever, I guess." I say, crossing my arms and leaning to one hip. "Can I go?" Lance shakes his head with disappointment.

"We're going to watch the score reveal together. Be back before then." He waves me away and Harrison takes the out, returning to his room quicker than I could.

With nothing left to do, I lay down on my bed facedown, wishing this would all be over.

As promised, I return to the living area and take a seat, distancing myself from Harrison and Lance. An avox comes around and gives us some orange juice, which I gladly take.

The television blasts the Capitol seal and anthem, then fades into two male announcers who have been doing the score reveal for the past five years. Despite this, I don't know their names.

"What an amazing cast of tributes this year, and an amazing set of scores! Are you ready to hear them?" The announcer with bright blue hair says. He pulls out a series of note cards and begins.

"Starting with District One. Henry Haines, with an 8!"

"Jade Hastings, 10."

"Franz Kubo, 9."

"Tatiana Emery, also a 9."

"Beckett Amory, a 2."

Harrison scoffs. Lance shoots him a look.

"Electra Shielle, 5."

"Taliesin Ulysses, 9."

"Marissa Grey, an 8. Amazing scores from the Careers this year."

"Kalen Demner, 7."

"Heather Monroe, 8."

Wow. I wonder what she did.

"Conrad Martell, 6."

"Emily Lynch, 5."

"Elijah Axenfros, 7."

"Darrah Arinori, 5."

"Tristan Card, 6."

"Aelina Decima, 6."

"Ricky James, 4"

"Serenity Jasper, 6.

"Jonathan Priel, 4."

"Adelina Claire, 6."

I don't realize I'm holding my breath as they wrap up with District Ten's scores.

"Harrison Jones, 9."

Harrison leans back, a little shocked I think. Lance nods in approval.

"Seia Loom, 5." Seriously? Whatever.

"Charon Aytigin, 7."

"And last, but not least, Nadia Miniera, 5."

The announcers thank us for watching and go into details on sponsoring, but I ignore it. An artificial number shouldn't bother me as much as it is. I seriously wonder if whatever Harrison did caused enough of a disturbance to where they genuinely weren't paying attention to me. If that's the case, well, screw him.

But he outscored a Career, so he'll have enough of a target on his back with his little alliance. The thought of that makes it almost worth it. Almost.

Thank you to Team shadow for the latest Chapter. Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be interviews!