Training, Day 3, Part 2


Zirconia twirled a large onion ring on the end of her fork. When Zeph rolled his eyes, she raised an eyebrow at him. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Come on," she said. "It's our last lunch together in the Capitol. We should do something fun!"

"Like what?" Liat said with her ever-present smile. Zirconia liked their latest addition to the group. The Seven girl not only burst with positivity but also had a wicked swing with an axe.

Zirconia scanned the room for anything vaguely entertaining. If it were any other day, she'd suggest something with the training stations, but the Gamemakers had closed off the main gymnasium for the Private Sessions, set to begin any moment now. Zeph undoubtedly worried about those, but she didn't see the point. She wasn't going to score fantastic anyway—why not enjoy whatever time they had left?

Her eyes alighted on the buffet table. "We could… try mixing up some gross food combos! Anyone want to go first?"

"I think you should." Clarke grinned. "Can it be anything?"

"Anything!" Zirconia knew she'd probably regret this—like too many past decisions in her life—but hey, what was the fun in only eating normal food?

Clarke craned her head to survey their options. "How about… chocolate ice cream and… fish soup?"

"Ugh!" Zirconia gagged. Ever since her family lost its fortunes, she'd learned to eat mostly anything, but this was over the top. "You're terrible!"

"You did say anything."

"Fine—"

"Great! This'll be fun!" Clarke winked at her. "I'll go get it."

Before the girl had a chance to leave, Zeph butt in with a faint smile. "I hate to interrupt the fun—" As he spoke, Zirconia rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs. He nudged her back. "But we need to discuss our Private Sessions strategy."

Clarke plopped back down in her seat, face suddenly ablaze in brazen defiance. "That's easy. I'm getting a 0."

"I'm pretty sure the lowest score is 1," Liat said.

"I'm still getting a 0."

Zirconia pursed her lips. Wasn't the entire point to score as high as possible? She knew for sure she didn't want a 1 right below her name. "Why? Don't you want sponsors?"

"I don't care about sponsors," Clarke snapped. "I'm not playing their game."

Zirconia couldn't deny that Clarke's sentiment resonated deep in her soul. She hated the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the Games and all their bull, and somewhere in that brain of hers, just maybe, Zirconia was tempted to waltz in and give the Gamemakers a staring contest for fifteen minutes. They couldn't make her try if she didn't want to!

But even rebellious ol' her refused to score that low. At the end of it all, she wanted either Zeph or herself to be the one standing on the Victor's stage—if they wanted to die together, all they had to do was stay in District Twelve and let the Peacekeepers execute them.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're playing it."

"Of course not! But that doesn't mean I can't try to get a half-decent score." Zirconia bristled. She'd volunteered because it was the only way for one of them to live, and she wasn't the type of person to throw it all away out of spite.

Fine, maybe she absolutely was that type of person. Who knew what kind of stuff she'd do in the spur of the moment? Not herself, for sure. She knew less than anyone what went on in that brain of hers. Still, she wouldn't do it, if only for Zeph's sake. Or maybe her own sake? Death was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to experience it yet.

Zeph turned to Clarke. "Are you sure you want a 1?"

"I said 0."

"You can't—" He sighed. "Never mind. But if we all score decently, it'll make a huge difference. Please consider—"

"I already thought about it. I'm not doing it."

"Clarke," Liat said. Her eyes pleaded with the Nine girl. "Could you please give him a chance?"

As Clarke stared at Liat, she visibly gulped. Her scowl softened. She didn't reply, but none was needed. Zirconia had never been more thankful for Liat. She knew that as for herself, no matter how much she cared about Clarke, she couldn't bring herself to plead. Bossing around was more her style, but she got the impression that her approach wouldn't work with this girl.

"Maybe think about it this way," Zeph said. "You're from District Nine. The Capitol wants nothing more than for you to die."

"They can go f—"

"So if you live, it'll be a bigger middle finger than anything you could possibly do in your Private Sessions."

Zirconia could practically see the cogs turning in the girl's head. She glanced at Liat, who smiled back with a hopeful lift of the eyebrow. Zirconia opened her mouth to get a word in, but Zeph nudged her leg from under the table. Fine. She'd let him handle this one.

"The odds are already crazy stacked against us," Zeph continued. "What's the harm in getting some sponsor help?"

"No harm done at all!" Liat said.

Clarke averted her eyes. "I'll… think about it."

"That's all we're asking for." Zeph smiled.

Much to her chagrin, Zirconia recognized the smile as his diplomatic one, the one he used to put others at ease when he wasn't fully at ease about them. So he still didn't trust them, huh? Zirconia had half a mind to give him a good whack in the head to get through to him that Clarke and Liat were trustworthy—she was sure of it, and not out of naivety either. She didn't survive District Twelve for this long for nothing.

Alas, such was suspicious, cautious Zeph, but she couldn't bring herself to get mad at him when his wary eye had saved them many a time before. She beamed at Liat and Clarke, hoping that she could make up for Zeph's lack of enthusiasm until he came around.

Hopefully, he'd eventually come around.


Zeph gave himself a mental pat on the back for another crisis averted. It'd already been a risk for them to team up with a District Nine, but he'd trusted Zirconia on this one—as if he had much of a choice in the first place. At any rate, as far as allies went, Clarke didn't seem like a terrible choice. Better someone determined to "not play their game" than someone so willing to play the game that they'd stab 'em in the back, right?

If he were honest, he truly was glad that she was seriously reconsidering her decision to "get a 0," however she thought she'd do it, and for her sake too. He understood her fierce hatred for the Capitol, but it'd do her—and any potential rebel movements—much more good for her to live than to end up hunted down by the Gamemakers.

"So," he said in a low whisper. "What's our plan for the Bloodbath?"

"We go in, obviously. We're not gonna get anywhere without some weapons and supplies," Zirconia said.

Clarke nodded, eyes flashing with fire. "We have to show everyone that we mean business."

Going in had been Zeph's first instinct as well, though he'd have to do better than to just blindly trust his instincts. Back at home, he'd honed his instincts to his environment. With a map of the district firmly embedded in his head, he could make a getaway from almost anywhere in District Twelve without a second thought, but his untrained instincts here might as well be a liability for him.

He rested his chin on his hand. "What are the downsides of going in?"

"Oh, I don't know—dying?" Liat chuckled, but her eyes held no mirth. "Though whether that's an upside or downside depends on you."

Zeph observed her from behind a grin. For all he knew, she could be a spy from the Careers, sent to figure them out before turning on them in the Arena, but Zirconia seemed fully set on accepting the girl and Zirconia's people instincts were rarely too far off, though the same couldn't be said about her other planning.

Besides, he remembered how Liat had been Reaped. The Seven girl had stood on stage with blinked-back tears and gritted teeth—hardly a picture of the scary evil Career. Perhaps it made sense that Liat would leave the rest of the Career Pack. In this sense, she never truly belonged with them.

At any rate, Liat was his only source of information regarding the inner workings of this year's Careers, and he wasn't going to waste it.

"You know them better than we do," Zeph said. "What's your take on the threat level this year? It seems like they're one big group…"

"Well… the group's not perfect, but they'll probably stick together for a few days at least." Liat paused and looked over her shoulders at her former allies, who sat around the center table as always. "I'm more worried that you guys are the biggest 'threat' to them, so they might target you first."

Clarke, who'd been playing with her food absentmindedly, suddenly snapped up. "What do you mean 'you guys'? What about you?"

The two—Clarke and Liat—obviously had some kind of history, but Zeph had no idea what it could be. It must've happened on the first day of training, before he and Zirconia had teamed up with Clarke. In all seriousness, Liat's addition to the team came as a shock because he hadn't expected the NIne girl to so readily accept an ally from Seven.

"Don't worry about me," Liat said. "Nevaeh and Ilithyia gave me their word, and I don't think they're the type to break it."

Clarke frowned. "I don't trust 'em. They just want you to lower your guard."

Zeph watched as the two stared into each other's eyes. Perhaps this was why Clarke hadn't opposed Liat's joining. But while Clarke seemed enraptured, Liat's smile was somewhat more subdued, clearly heartfelt but less intense. Zirconia gave him a nudge and winked, grinning from ear to ear. Zeph could only chuckle. These were the Hunger Games, not some summer camp, but who was he to meddle?

Liat rubbed Clarke on the back. "Trust me, Clarke. Those two are good people. I'll be fine."

"Then that's settled, right?" Zirconia said. "We're not chickening out."

"By effin' Snow, 'course not." Clarke smirked.

Though Liat seemed torn, she maintained her full composure. "I can go all the way in to grab some weapons since it'll be safer for me than any of you. What weapons do you guys prefer?"

The question immediately triggered Zeph's wary instinct. That was exactly what a Career spy would say. He had no guarantee that she wouldn't spill all their information to her district partner once they left training. He glanced at Zirconia, who gave him a reassuring smile. She evidently trusted Liat. He'd extend the benefit of the doubt this time. It wasn't like they had much information to spill anyway.

"Knives for us," Zeph said before Zirconia had a chance to pop off. It wouldn't be cool or anything, but considering their lack of weapon experience… He figured it would be safer this way.

"I'll take anything," Clarke said. "Anything you grab will be a step up from a brick."

Liat grinned playfully. "So… knives for Zeph and Zirconia. A random stick for Clarke. Got it."

"Oh, come on!" Clarke gave Liat a sharp nudge in the ribs.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Actually…" Zirconia said. "Can we get something cool too? Knives are kinda lame."

Zeph sighed. There she went, chasing another feathered friend. "So will you be when you don't know how to use a weapon."

"I mean, it'd still be good entertainment," Clarke said. "More than a normal knife."

Liat spoke with a firm smile. "Zeph's right. A weapon you don't know how to use could be worse than having no weapon."

"That's easy for you to say. Some of us don't have the luxury of weapon experience," Clarke shot back.

Zeph braced for impact, but Liat barely seemed fazed at all. When she maintained her smile, Clarke quickly averted her eyes and mumbled an apology. He decided that he liked having Liat around. The Seven girl provided balance, whereas he alone had had to handle the other two prior. It didn't hurt that Clarke snuck glances at Liat every other minute.

He desperately hoped that Zirconia's read on the situation was accurate, that Liat had genuinely left the Careers for good. If Liat turned on them… he wasn't sure they'd make it out intact, physically or emotionally.

Especially Clarke.


Ada trembled in her seat. Obviously it wasn't necessary; fear could only be a detriment to clear, rational thought, yet no amount of reason could chase away that shiver that relentlessly dogged her nerves.

Here it was. The private sessions.

Their escort Carpathia had explained the entire thing to them last night, though the woman had made it abundantly clear that she didn't expect either of her tributes to do well. Ada didn't need the woman for information at any rate. She'd already done enough Games research over the past few days to last her a lifetime, even late into the night for fear that she might miss out on some crucial piece of strategy. She knew what she'd do. She'd rehearsed it in her head a million times; she'd done it once in person on a smaller scale than what she'd need to accomplish in her fifteen minutes.

Still, that was practice. This was real. A voice came on the speakers.

"Dear tributes: We will now begin with your Private Sessions. When your name is called, please approach the double doors and wait to be escorted into the room."

Ace sat beside her. Concern danced in the corners of his eyes, but his expression was otherwise blank in awkward silence—no one had spoken all lunch so far. Electra sat opposite her, and then Scythe waited a few seats down, where he'd have a bit more personal space. Electra had seemed worried about Scythe, but in Ada's opinion, the Eleven boy's reasons and feelings were his own business. Whether she thought so because she really didn't care or was too afraid to care.. she wasn't sure.

Either way, she had no time right now to worry about the emotional or mental state of her allies, or if this awkward silence that surrounded them was a sign of something wrong. That could come later, after they pulled off their plan.

"Now Calling: Adora Noble, District One Female."

The girl from One rose elegantly despite the training wear and floated over to the double doors, where Peacekeepers awaited her. The rest of the Star Alliance cheered her on the entire way. Once the doors slid open, they escorted her in, and then the doors shut again for the girl from One to be alone in the main training room with the Gamemakers.

That's where Ada would be in an hour, after all the tributes from Districts One and Two. Ada hadn't considered it before, but she was now convinced that being the Three Female was the worst slot she could possibly be in, having to come after the undoubtedly impressive show from the two historically trained districts, whose involvement in Hunger Games preparations dated back to before the Snow dynasty began, back when training was still technically illegal.

A pit opened in her stomach. Would she be enough? Not for the score—a good score in itself wouldn't be sufficient. Would her performance convince the Gamemakers to plant the materials she needed in the Arena?

It felt as if she were trying to win her laboratory position all over again. Back then, it'd meant the difference between a comfortable life in the District Center and a far shorter one out in the polluted rest of the district. Here, failure would be death, not only for herself but also for Ace and Electra. Scythe had enough muscle and weapon experience to survive further on his own, but the other three of them had nothing but a risky plan and desperate hope.

Electra's gentle voice interrupted her worrying. "H-Hey."

Ada looked up. The girl from Five extended her hand. Ada took it, and it closed around her own hand, warming it.

"You're h-hand is cold. Are you worried?"

"How could I not be worried? Everything comes down to this." Ada almost wanted to retract her hand from where it laid on the middle of the table, held by Electra. This posture left her open, exposed, unprotected. "Well, it technically doesn't, but feels like it nonetheless."

Electra smiled at her. "You're going to do f-fine. Why are you so worried?"

Ada almost laughed. The question made no sense, not when the object of her worry was about as obvious as the neutralization reaction between a strong acid and a strong base—which was to say, extremely obvious.

"I have to do this right," Ada said. "I'm accustomed to experiments, and a good experiment has to be repeatable. I only get one try at this."

"Why do you have to get it right on the f-first try?"

Ada felt a sudden need to cross her arms, to cradle her chest and protect it from the awkward position of revelation. But Electra was so kind and genuine—Ada couldn't say no.

"If I don't make this impressive enough, they might not put what we need in the Arena. And then we're done for. I can't fight. Neither you nor Ace can fight." Ada felt her face beginning to flush and cursed her emotional response. "Then the trained districts will win. I don't want them to win. So many of our people are already dying from the Capitol's favoritism—can't they let us live this time?"

"E-Everything will be okay."

Though nice, the words rang hollow. Everything would not be okay. From the pollution of her district that killed off her countrymen far too early to the inhumane Hunger Games, nothing was ever really okay in Panem. Ada herself had been privileged herself relative to the rest of her district, but not a day passed when she didn't see the forcefield that kept the air pollutants out of the District Center and dream of the day she'd harness the power of science and bring fresh air to her entire district. The Capitol and all the trained districts could hide within their fancy borders and enjoy their privileged lives, but that didn't negate all the suffering they couldn't see.

Ada pried her hand from Electra's, staring down to hide her own red face. Here she was, getting emotional again when her allies depended on her to hold it all together. It'd be bad enough for her to die. It'd be worse for all them to die because of her failure.

"I'm sorry. I need to pull myself together."

"A-Ada… You're n-not alone." Electra's voice quavered, as if she had to fight herself to talk. "I-I… I hate it all t-too."

Though Electra hadn't spoken loudly at all, Scythe and Ace had turned to look. A chill ran down Ada's back. This was real. The girl from Five hadn't ever said much about herself before.

"What do you mean?" Ada said. She held her voice soft for fear of it cracking.

Electra gulped. "I… I hate the Capitol. For all they do to us. For the way they tear us apart. For how unfair it is. I th-think it's good to be angry. It's good to think of a better world." She sucked in a deep breath. "I… I-I do that every day. Every night. Think of a better Panem."

"I do too." Ace spoke abruptly. Ada had almost forgotten he was there. Though he didn't add another word, the solidarity was enough. His presence beside her felt like a solid rock—he was for her, he sympathized with her irrational emotion, they were a team.

For the first time, Electra had spoken about herself. For the first time, Ace had expressed something beyond a simple "Are you okay." Even Scythe had turned towards them; it was the first time his face wasn't smooth stone. For the first time since Ada was Reaped… she felt at ease.

"Now Calling: Ada Sparks, District Three Female."

Almost instantaneously, her heart picked up its pace again. Electra gave her a warm smile, even while she tried to subtly wipe her eyes. Ace cautiously patted her on the shoulder. Scythe gave her a thumbs up.

"You'll do great," Ace said.

Ada beamed at all of them. "Thank you. I really mean it."


Scythe shook himself as he watched Ada approach the double doors for her Private Session. Electra's words still echoed in his head, and he needed them out, no matter how much they resonated in his soul.

He glanced at Ace and Electra. That atmosphere still lingered over them, a mutual understanding he wanted no part of. His agreement with the Threes was a short-term business arrangement and nothing more. They'd work together to scrape together some kind of bomb and damage the Careers, and then they'd split up and fend for themselves.

Elsewhere through the cafeteria, other tributes chatted, primarily the four remaining Careers, though the alliance involving the Twelves wasn't quiet either, by any means. How could they talk so easily and freely with the Hunger Games hanging over their heads? It didn't matter how he looked at it—personal attachments were imprudent.

That was exactly why Scythe couldn't afford to get up close with the rest of them and do whatever "opening up" thing they were up to. Electra might not have the physical strength to beat him in a fight, but her kindness was deadly enough. If he came across the crazy hyper female from Two and got a chance, he knew he'd kill her quickly without too much regret. Same went for the Four Male. Even the thought of getting revenge on Four for shoving him off the climbing wall already felt satisfying; his fingertips tingled in anticipation.

But what would he do if he ran into, say, Electra after they split? He wished he could say that he'd do the deed and move on—these were the Hunger Games, after all—but he couldn't say for sure. He'd only known these kids for less than two days and they were already worming their way under his walls.

This was his line. No further attachment. People could call him a bad person all they wanted, but he wasn't going to lie and pretend like he valued the life of a stranger over his own.

The Gamemakers called Ace, and then the Fours. Interestingly enough, the Fours had been working separately almost all day, whereas previously they'd always remained in the same general vicinity. He suspected she finally realized how terrible the male was and decided to cut off connections. Served the guy right. Though it'd be nice if Scythe got a chance to return the favor, he'd be just as happy if the Careers murked the guy in the Bloodbath.

"Is everything okay?"

Scythe momentarily hoped that Electra wasn't talking to him, though who else could she be talking to? He had half a mind to ignore her, but she was a decent person; she didn't deserve coldness. "I'm fine," he said. "Why?"

"You look… t-tense."

"I'm fine." He gave her a polite smile. The thought was nice enough, given she actually cared at all, but it was ultimately none of her business.

"If you s-say so."

Silence returned, just the way he liked it. Before long, Electra left for her session too. Lucky her, getting to go relatively early on. The Gamemakers would still be paying attention to her; she'd wait out the next few hours in the comfort of her Tribute Quarters instead of the cafeteria.

He was glad she'd gone and left him alone. That girl was too nice for her own good—and for his good too. The less time he spent with any of them, the easier it'd be to keep things business-only. But as he watched her disappear into the Training Room, he almost felt disappointed. The atmosphere turned uncomfortably cold with none of them around.

Maybe he wasn't glad.

He poked absentmindedly at a stray noodle on his plate with his fork. With nothing to do, getting more food almost seemed tempting, but he couldn't afford to overstuff himself right before his Private Session. He settled for observing the room instead.

Almost instantly, he spotted Iggy with the Six Male and Nine Male. Why had he noticed her first? It had to be a coincidence. Or had he subconsciously searched her out? The girl popped up from her seat and fluttered over to the District Eight Male at the neighboring table like a butterfly of happiness and joy and innocence that—for the love of Snow—did not belong in the Hunger Games any more than a fawn in a den of wolves. Or anywhere in Panem! It still baffled him how she existed in this godforsaken world, and the fact that the Capitol had reaped her boiled his blood. She was absolutely doomed.

He turned back to the noodle. Anger at the Capitol was a waste of time and energy when every iota of time and energy mattered so much. He might as well start getting over her inevitable death now before he got attached.

But when he glanced back in Iggy's direction, she'd disappeared. She wasn't with the Eight male anymore, nor had she returned to the Six and Nine boys.

She appeared in the corner of his eye, and she was coming at him.

"What do you want?" he said, giving her an unamused look. Better to shut it down before it was too late.

It didn't seem to faze her one bit. "You looked lonely." Her voice sparkled with life and promise, like the glistening morning dew. "Did your allies already go for their Private Sessions?"

"We're not technically allies."

"Oh, I know," she said. "Mati and Thomas and I aren't technically allies either, but they're really nice people and I really hope we can stick together."

Scythe pressed his lips into a firm line. Not technically allies either, huh? Neither of those two boys seemed particularly good with conflict. Was it possible that they had let her tag along to avoid having to reject her? That would almost be as bad as the Capitol.

Iggy frowned too. Her furrowed eyebrows looked out of place on her innocent face. "What's wrong?"

"You've… bonded quickly."

She stared downwards. "Oh… I'm sorry."

Gosh, now he'd made her sad—and why did he care that she was sad? Hadn't he decided to consider her dead already?

"Don't be. It's your life."

"I'm really, really sorry." She peeked up at him. Her dark eyes brimmed with sadness—and fear? "I hope you're not mad at me."

He'd been so worried about how he'd survive the Hunger Games, and here Iggy was, stressed out about him being mad at her? Wasn't there a better use of energy here? He wanted to flip the table, and protect her, and push her far away, and save her from the Games, all at the same time. He needed her to disappear; he needed her to be okay. He had to treat her as dead; he desperately wished for her to live.

Only one thing was clear. Nothing could ever acquit the Capitol for its crimes against humanity.


It had been five hours since their Private Sessions, and Ace had barely heard a single word from Ada. For the first four of those hours, she'd closed herself in her room; she hadn't responded when he'd gone by to knock on her door. But just a bit ago, she had joined him in the dining room, and now she sipped absentmindedly from a cup of green tea every minute or so.

He hadn't spoken much himself. He never felt like he had the right words. He felt right at home doing odd jobs for his loved ones and providing for them the best he could, not soothing their emotions with sweet words he'd never been able to conjure up.

But as he sat across the glistening table from her, the need to speak rumbled in his chest, louder than it had ever been before. If silent, shy Electra could do it, he could too. Maybe it wasn't so much about the words as it was about the person behind the words. He opened his mouth.

"It couldn't have been terrible, could it?"

Almost instantly, he wished to hit an undo, though that just wasn't how social interactions worked. He hadn't meant to imply that she'd done bad, even if she definitely looked as if she'd done bad.

She shrugged stiffly. "It wasn't… terrible."

"It'll be better than mine. I spent all my time on a trap that only half-worked."

He chuckled at himself—even that was an understatement. The moment he'd tested his creation, he'd known immediately that the only functional piece of the entire contraption was the trigger; he'd be lucky to catch a rabbit with that mess. His expertise was repairing things so that they wouldn't break again, not things designed to collapse cleverly.

Ada gave him a wry grin, better than nothing. "I don't think I did terribly. I just don't know if it was enough."

Head empty. Words gone. It was as if he'd spent his entire ability so say anything meaningful on those few phrases and now there was nothing left to say.

A plate of foil-wrapped chocolate truffles piled high glistened at the center of the table, so he gingerly plucked one from the tower and rolled it over to her, where it brushed against her elbow. Candy always seemed to brighten his little brother's day; he couldn't see why it wouldn't work here.

She stared at the truffle and then looked back at him, actually smiling this time. With a tiny giggle—he hadn't known she giggled—she unwrapped it and took a nibble.

"It's good," she said.

"I'd hope so. The Capitol's gotta be fancy for a reason."

He chuckled; her laugh rolled into his. It soaked into his bones, suddenly freeing him from that awkward stiffness that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. He gazed into her dark eyes, and she averted her eyes, nibbling further on the truffle.

Moments later, their mentor Razer appeared in the doorway to the living room. They could hear their escort Carpathia behind him, babbling to some friend of hers over her earpiece.

"It's time for the scores. Are you two doing okay?" Razer asked.

Ace shrugged and turned to Ada, who beamed back at him.

"I'm feeling better now," she said. "Thanks to Ace."

Razer smiled. "That's good to hear. C'mon."

The two of them followed Razer into the sitting room and settled down on the couches facing the wall-sized holo-screen. Carpathia, perched atop a stool in the corner, didn't give them a second look. Ace didn't blame her. District Three wasn't known to ever score well—heck, Razer himself had gotten a 5, and it'd been the highest score any District Three tribute had received in a decade. Watching the score reveals might as well be a formality.

Well, it would be a formality if Ada didn't have that card up her sleeve. Ace didn't quite understand the details of her plan, but he trusted her, and that was enough for him. He'd leave all the planning to her and her big brain, and he'd do his best to help however he could.

And if it came down to them in the final two… That wasn't even a possibility. Ever since JSon Walkman pulled the double-suicide stunt with his district partner after the 89th Hunger Games, District Three in 150 years hadn't had a pair in the Top Eight, let alone the Final Two.

"We're back on the Official Hunger Games Network to bring you the latest news on this year's tributes! And by Snow, do we have news! The Private Sessions are in, and the scores are out!"

While on-screen Jovian Vermillius spouted off some other crowd-warming nonsense, Ace noticed Ada tense up again.

"It'll be okay," he whispered.

She nodded and put on a brave face, just in time for Jovian to finish his introductory remarks and begin with the scores.

The screen first flashed the faces of the District One tributes, with the stereotypical female and the decidedly un-stereotypical male, both of whom earned 10s, to no one's surprise at all. Carpathia mumbled something about the boy "needing that score to compensate." Ace gave her an ugly scowl.

Carpathia shrugged. "Don't look at me like that. It's what everyone is saying."

Next up, the Two female scored an 11, while the male scored a 9. As the Two male's photo lingered on-screen, Carpathia sighed.

"Look at his dreamy eyes!" she said. "Just look at the ratings. With that face of his, his score won't matter at all."

A glare felt insufficient at this point, but Ace had nothing else to shoot at her, at least here in the Capitol. Beside him, Ada didn't seem to notice the conversation at all. She'd retreated back into that inner world just like she had on their first night in the Capitol, when they'd watched the Reaping Recaps.

"…Now, moving on to District Three…"

The first thing Ace noticed was the "2" under his picture, to no one's surprise, not even himself. He didn't deserve any better for that failed trap; heck, he could've seen an argument for a 1 in that case.

The second thing he noticed was the bright "7" below Ada's picture. He heard her suck in a deep breath and then exhale slowly, releasing the air like a burden on her back. Razer, ever the quiet one, didn't say a word. He didn't need to. His proud expression was enough.

Carpathia looked up from her phone. "What?"

Ace sighed. In true terrible fashion, she hadn't been paying attention.

"A 7—Ada, that's phenomenal!"

Ada didn't respond. Her wide eyes remained glued to the screen until the brilliant number was replaced by the Four Female's "6."

Carpathia leapt up from her stool and waddled over. "I finally have a tribute I can tell my friends about!" She shook Ada by the shoulders, completely ignoring the girl's discomfort. "District Three might actually have a chance this year! In all my years of escorting, my time has finally come…"

Ace had never considered himself a violent person, but this woman was really pushing his limits. It was almost as if the Capitol had specifically chosen her because she'd prompt him to turn to violence.

Still, he hoped this was all a good omen. Razer was their latest victor, and that'd been twenty-two years ago. The odds weren't good… but at least they existed.


Training Scores for the 240th Hunger Games

District One: Adora Noble — 10, Ven Piersson — 10

District Two: Ilithyia Aella — 11, Eros Worshire — 9

District Three: Ada Sparks — 7, Ace Invidia — 2

District Four: Azolla Majuli — 6, Navarro de Leon — 7

District Five: Electra Eirisse — 2, Kiran Malhotra — 3

District Six: Laforza Wheeler — 6, Thomas Montoya — 2

District Seven: Liat North — 8, Adair Ryder — 9

District Eight: Virginia Bedford — 5, Ellis Lowery — 4

District Nine: Clarke Brioche — 7, Mati Strye — 6

District Ten: Nevaeh Jiminez — 10, Sostonio Caspiano — 9

District Eleven: Yggdrasil Kane — 2, Scythe Chandler — 7

District Twelve: Zirconia Eskridge — 4, Zeph Kadir — 5


A/N Y'all still have maybe about three weeks to get your memes in for the competition! (The last two Pre-Games chapters are rather long.) After next chapter, every tribute will have gotten two Capitol POVs (which, in my opinion, was still not enough, but I digress), and we'll be moving into the Games with a Launch Chapter (+ major announcement!) and the Bloodbath. I hoped y'all didn't mind the scores being separated. I hate shoehorning them into a POV just to get them out.

If you were a teacher and this cast were your class, how do you think it would turn out?

For me, I know it'd be a hot mess, but Virginia, Ellis, Iggy, Azolla, Ada, and Sostonio will be absolute angels in class. Liat too, probably. I'll have to keep an eye on Eros and Adair because they'll cheat. Ilithyia and Nevaeh will keep the class from ever getting boring. Scythe, Ven, Thomas, and Mati and Electra won't talk much, but I'd want to try to get to know them best I can. Kiran might be a mess in class, but I'm sure he's an absolute pleasure one-on-one. Ace won't have great grades, but he's the kid that I'll help through remediation because he does his best. I worry about having to deal with Navarro, Clarke, Zirconia, and Laforza, though. Something tells me they'll throw the entire class into chaos. Hopefully, Zeph and Liat can help with that.

I'd love to know y'all's thoughts!