A/n: We're finally into training! Woohoo!

Sierra Hay-Fields, 17, District Eleven Female

I can't kid myself, I'm a sucker for this Capitol food. Every last thing is delicious, filled with a perfect blend of flavors, even things I previously disgusted like pears and lemons that I used to have to force myself to eat out of necessity for survival. Nobody here is starving. I hope that Lilo, Cane, and the rest of them wouldn't be disappointed in me if they saw me gorging myself in excess. I wouldn't put it past some of them to refuse to eat entirely. But, honestly, the food is delicious, and I need it to increase my metabolism and put on some weight. I do have muscles from field work, but fat is sparse on my body. I think that they would understand.

I do miss them so much: Thorn, always doting on me and teaching me, and his wife Briony, the sister I never had; Syrco, and his tender and loving side beyond the rough exterior, his strength and prowess when he taught me how to fight—that will come in handy; Cane, my twin and confidant, always loyal and kind; the way that they all defended me, despite it not being warranted, over Dad; even he was comforting in his routine detestability, and if I must admit it to myself, I still love him deep down, beyond the rants and beatings and neglect he demonstrated after Mom died, where I cherish the memories of before then, of the both of them. And Lilo, too, his black hair that fell down his caramel skin and landed just above his eyes in little ringlets, and those beautiful brown eyes. The whole faction, that tight-knit community, and the dirty streets I used to treat like a catwalk.

"Manners, Sierra." My escort, Helga, snaps me out of my confusion, and I realize that I have my elbow in maple syrup in the process of coagulating around it as I look up from absentmindedly staring at the pink sun outside, a jagged semicircle pierced by mountains and skyscrapers. At least I'm wearing pajamas.

"You too, Aleyn," she says to him. Dark circles curl under his green eyes. He hasn't eaten, only stirred his oatmeal with his spoon. He make any sign to hint that he heard her, and so she repeats herself loudly through gritted teeth of feigned politeness. "You too, Aleyn."

"Huh? Oh, right, yes ma'am."

He goes back to stirring up his meager meal, in contrast to me beside him. Aleyn seems tense and is keeping as much distance from me as possible. He hasn't looked at me yet this morning, aside from one furtive glance as he emerged from his room, no matter how hard I try to peer into his eyes. He pretends like nothing is happening, but he isn't a good liar, worse than me.

"So, what do you do want to do during training?" I ask to make small talk.

"Survival skills and stuff. Maybe get some knife skills."

"I can teach you lots about that. They taught us girls how to use them to defend ourselves from… you know, men of the perverted ilk."

"Cool." An awkward pause ensues as Helga excuses herself from the table to apply her "public makeup" over her "private makeup". The mentors are nowhere to be seen per usual. Belladonna has narcoleptic tendencies, and Syracuse may still be hungover in a bar somewhere. Filthy alcoholic, I hate what that thing does to people.

"Anyways," Aleyn says, clearing his throat, "I might as well get ready now." Pushing out his chair, he gets up to walk away.

"Aleyn?"

He turns around, eyebrows raised.

"You never did eat much of anything."

"Oh—I've got no appetite. Anything else?"

"No, sorry."

When I look down onto my plate now, I don't have much of an appetite either. In five days, I'm going into a deathmatch. Technically, I already am in it. My stomach does a flip as the pieces of blueberry muffin claw their way up from the bottom of my digestive system. I take a swallow of orange juice—the sugary kind spruced up in the factories, not like the real stuff the street vendors serve—and as the muffin goes down, so do those thoughts, at least temporarily. There are better things to worry about right now, namely training.

But it isn't the only thing that has me concerned. Aleyn's distancing of himself from, his shifty body language to his aversion of eye contact. Something is up. I hope I didn't do or say anything wrong.

We'll probably work things out by the end of the day. He's probably just nervous. He'll probably start being more open with me once we meet the rest of our allies in the training center—Aleyn is not of the extroverted type.

I am excited to see my allies again. Strength in numbers, as they say. It may be slightly narcissistic, but I find myself as sort of a leader of the group. I know that I'll do good as leader, especially when it comes to protecting the weaker ones like Raihan, Tabitha, and Tessa. Everyone included seems so nice and genuine, too. I trust all of them already.

Aleyn and I meet up by the elevator as Belladonna gives him some last-minute advice (probably first-minute for her). "Remember, always steer clear of the careers and make yourself invisible in your alliance, study your survival skills, try to pay attention to your what stations they are advertising more, and—"

"I got it, I got it. Come on, Sierra, let's go."

Aleyn seems hasty to escape her chatter, probably an overcompensation for her previous state of slumber. As he takes my arm, I say "Okay," and we get in the elevator, leaving behind Helga and 're the only ones in here, which is probable since the only ones who could await us would be Tabitha and our partner, and I have a feeling he wouldn't exactly be an early bird like us.

The elevator is pervaded by silence until Aleyn, his voice awkward, cautiously cuts through it.

"Um… Sierra?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to tell you something."

"Fire away." I'm curious as to what my partner has to say.

"I… uh… I want to break off the alliance."

"What?! Why?!" I'm struck with hurt and shock at this, coming out of nowhere. My voice bounces off the glass walls and hurtles back at us, like a wave of confusion and distress. "Did I do anything? Is it because of the big group? Trust me, Aleyn, you'll warm up to them. You can't just go it alone!"

"Yes, I can, and I will. It's not because of you, Sierra, and it isn't because of anyone else either, anyone besides me."

"What is the reason then?" My voice is steadily rising, and I try to calm it midway through the sentence. I must have better composure, Mom and Thorn always scolded me about raising my voice. Yet, my anger does not diminish.

"I don't want to say why. Just—just don't hold yourself or anyone but me at fault. And don't come at me with that "safety" schtick. I know what I am asking for. If I ran into you in the arena, I'd be happy to come to your aid if you were in danger." He still hasn't looked me in the eye. That is what stings the most, past the betrayal.

"Look at me."

His eyes do not meet mine.

"Aleyn, I said look at me." Even though my voice is rising, he still doesn't reach my eyes, looking left and right and down and anywhere but up. He presses himself to the wall as if he is clinging to a ledge. I have no idea why he would suddenly change, suddenly do this.

"Aleyn—"

He looks at me now, and I finally see that he has been crying. "Happy?" he asks. There is still something behind those big, afraid eyes that he is hiding from me, but I don't push it any further.

Bing.

All of a sudden, the metallic door slides open to reveal Nerissa and Bolt standing expectantly mid-conversation. When they see us, they smile brightly before stepping in.

"Fancy meeting you here," says Nerissa.

"Same."

"This is good," Bolt chimes in. "Now we can all enter together, like a team." Bolt notices Aleyn as he tucks his black bangs over his eyes. "Oh, come on, Aleyn, cheer up some, it will do you some good."

I stand instinctively over him, blocking his bloodshot eyes from view. "Aleyn has decided that he wants to go it alone, but he'll still be friendly with us. He just told me that he works better by himself and wouldn't want to come off as rude after a couple of days."

"Oh, I see." Nerissa for a second seems mildly angry, almost passive aggressive, but it fades. I'm sure I was imagining it. "Well, that's fine. We will still do well without him."

With a beep and a clang, the door swings open to reveal the lobby. It evades me why they would have one on the training floor basement. The only exit is a heavy double-doored gateway into the training center, as the Gamemakers have their own elevator system.

As we walk in, the training center is revealed. While it is daunting, it is also oddly breathtaking. The walls are an imposing black and blue, with gold columns of rock glinting in the dimly lit maze of attractions. Spotlights adorn it above weaponry stations and fighting rings. There must be at least fifty stations here to choose from. Overhead, the Gamemakers stand above us imperiously, twenty or so men and women plus a few avoxes and interns.

In front of us are a few of the tributes already socializing in the cafeteria area. The careers are all present and sit at their own table, while the Fives stand talking alone and the Nine boy sits morosely by himself. Tessa and Rowan have already made it and wave us over excitedly. Raihan and Tabitha haven't arrived yet. I notice as Aleyn quietly slips away from us and to an obscure table mostly out of the golden, luminous, high-tech spotlight above us.

"Hey guys! We've been talking about what stations to visit first." Rowan hops up to greet us.

"We were wanting to try out the survival skills and then do the agility course. It looks so fun!" Tessa smiles sweetly.

"That all sounds good," Nerissa says, "but I was actually kind of thinking that it might be clever to try using the weapons first so that we know how to defend ourselves."

"That sounds fine by me," Bolt adds. No one else objects.

"Excellent!" I exclaim. "I can teach everyone how to use a knife."

I realize how demented and wrong that sounds, but this is the Hunger Games. Since it's a death match and all, it's shrewd to go int with friends and I like my alliance tremendously, even without Aleyn, though it would be better with him. I glance over at him as the rest of my friends chat, sitting alone, though he looks to be talking to someone. Probably just psyching himself up, perfectly normal.

I look around. Tessa, so sweet and clever; Rowan, funny and amiable, and muscular like me to boot; Bolt, energetic and peppy, he'll be the group cheerleader; Nerissa, sagacious and enchanting, she provides such a relaxing and fun energy to everything. Raihan and Tabitha are both assets, too. I'm confident in the group. With trust, we can tackle anything.

Cassius Heart, 16, District Eight Male

I look at myself in the mirror, fully dressed and ready for training. Sea green eyes, light brown curls that used to be blonde, short stature and plump middle. Back in District Eight, it was a sign of richness, of fortune, something to brag about to those poor people, a warning not to mess with the wrong person with powerful connections. Now, it's never anything that intimidating.

I used to think that Eight was a hellhole. My only friends were my mother and Garv. I lusted to be here. This isn't what I lusted for, though. The food is a slight notch above what the cooks made, and here, nobody respects me and fulfills my every wish and demand, except the avoxes.

Mommy won't be saving me. I've given up hope on her. No matter how hard she tries, I'm going to die. I hope people will miss me. Nobody volunteered for me, though, so I must be despised by all of them. Of-course I am, and I know and knew it; I reveled in it mere days ago, watching their poor, dirty, hideous faces as they glared enviously and begged pathetically as I ate dinner on my balcony with Mommy just so we could see them whine and moan in anger.

None of that is going to help me now. My partner, Mystic, is much better prepared. She's cold, and she hasn't cried one bit in front of me. Add that to how ferociously she has devoured every meal she has consumed as I sat across the table eating as a gentleman should, and you have a contender. Alas, my life of excess has come to bite me in the ass.

Now I wish Grandma had taught me something, anything. She shouldn't have just given up like she did when I threw those tantrums, she should have given me a chance and made me like and learn how to sew, swim, play instruments, and all sorts of other things too. It's her fault. If she had been better, maybe I wouldn't be as chubby now, and maybe I would stand a chance. I've never run a mile in my life.

My fists ball up in anger as my nails, still purple from last night, clench my palms, and my face flushes red in the mirror. I'm stuck in an ill-fitting black training uniform with a bright orange eight on the back and right pectoral. Nothing that Mystic has worn yet has been unfitting. Her parade costume was gorgeous. Mine was too, and all through the prep time I was bragging to my team about how the audience would be in awe of me, but then that homeless wretch had to steal the show. They said that she was beautiful, but I'm more beautiful. I am.

"Beautiful. Handsome. Sexy." I say the words to myself in the mirror, putting my hands on the glass. I am attractive still, despite my weight. Mommy always said so, at least. My curls frame my head flatteringly, my eyes are noticeable from a distance, and my face is soft and appealing, as Mommy put it. The prep team told me, too.

I deserve the spotlight, at least in my final moments. Let something good happen to me, for once.

"Cassius, hurry, or you will be late!" My mentor bangs on the door quite rudely.

"I'm coming, don't be so mean to me in the morning!"

Five minutes later, me and Mystic bustle through the wide doors to the expansive training center just as the lead trainer is gathering the other twenty-two—scratch that, twenty-one, the Twelve boy has just emerged from the other elevator—up to lecture.

"Listen up, tributes," he booms, his voice coming out a harsh yell. "You best abide by, adhere to, and take to heart everything that I am about to tell you." The man has coal-black skin and white irises and hair, with a massive figure hidden under a black, red, and white track suit. "My name is Cornelius, and I will be your head-trainer and chief overseer for the upcoming three days. You do anything wrong, and I take care of you myself." He draws a gun and thumbscrews from the back of his jacket. "I used to be a Peacekeeper myself. I was an interrogator."

I gulp down hardly, trying to swallow. This man is possibly the scariest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. On the other side of Mystic, the Nine girl shakes with excitement and reverence. She directs a glare at her that she catches. Idiot. That is the last person that any one of us want to get on the bad side of.

"I recommend prioritizing survival stations, whether you are clueless or wanted to brush up on your skills. It is a common mistake for tributes to discount these stations and end up dying from the elements. I also advise you all to train in at least one weapon. Do not break the rules seen on the rule board beside me, or you will be escorted out of the room for time out. If you push it further than that… well, let's just keep that a mystery." He gestures menacingly to the thumbscrews. "You are free to go."

Everyone leaves slowly in previously formed groups or cliques. The big group of eight outliers, careers, One girl and Four boy, and Five and Six pairs are all off. All that is left are me and Mystic, the creepy Ten girl, and the boys from Nine, Eleven, and Twelve. I need a meat shield, someone to throw in front of me so I can run if anyone comes after us. I can convince them to ally and charm them with my debonair looks and smooth manner of talking. I would discount Mystic, who obviously does not want allies, and the Ten girl and Twelve boy immediately, those two seem too weak. That leaves the Nine and Eleven boys.

I'm about to walk up to Nine and greet him, but something comes over me. Discomfort. I don't want to do this. I never have before. Nobody has ever been friend caliber at school sans Garv and his sister Vanity, the crazy girl who sold her soul to philanthropy, and we had playdates arranged since before we could walk.

What if they don't like me or think that I'm weak. I am plump and slow, and I've never held a weapon in my life. However, the Nine boy is also overweight, and the others are dangerously malnourished, except for the unnerving Ten girl. In other words, if they denied me because of that, they'd be ones to talk.

Then why do I falter only yards away from him? I don't know. This foreign feeling floods me and consumes me. It feels like an icy chill, debilitating chill filtering through my brain and veins. Could it be that word insecurity? I've never been insecure before? But that was back in Eight, where obesity was a sign of wealth and all I had to do was scream or complain and Mommy would come to the rescue. Mommy isn't here to protect me anymore.

I run off as the boy looks off, going to the unoccupied axe rack. Axes seem like a good choice. No one is here and it is an uncommon weapon outside of Seven, so it will get me attention. A trainer there greets me.

"Welcome to the axe training station!" he exclaims. "I am your trainer Junius. How may I help you?"

"Just teach me."

"Sure thing, mister…"

"Cassius Heart."

"Sure thing, mister Heart."

He already annoys me already, with his dumb pink highlights and overly happy disposition.

"Now, I'm assuming you want a big weapon, though I may recommend practicing with a smaller axe with my sister Junia over there."

"Don't tell me what to do. I know what I'm doing. I want this one." I pick up a heavy axe from the rack, and when I do, the blade slams into the marble floor, scratching it. I didn't expect it to be that heavy.

Angrily, I heave it over my shoulder and say to this man, Junius, "Tell me how to use it."

"Don't forget the magic word," he titters.

"Huh? Magic word?"

"Never mind. Here, you're holding it wrong, grip it with your left and…"

I'm impatient, and glad when Junius is done. Now I take the axe and swing at the nearest dummy. My wrists feel a sharp strain of pressure, and the axe misses the dummy aside from grazing its leg.

"You didn't listen to anything that I showed you, did you? Here, you're holding it wrong, put your hand on the other—"

"I don't need your help!"

I swing again and fail. And then again. Now, I get him to repeat his instructions. I feel confident going into attempt number four. I have the heavy axe—to heavy—I can't hold it, and with a mighty swing, it spins in an arc horizontally in midair before skidding alone the floor into the foot of a dummy.

I thought I had that! "Damnit! This is stupid!" I yell angrily to Junius and try to push down the rack, but it hardly moves. "Ugh!" This is worthless. I'm going to a different weapon station. Axes are just dumb and useless, anyway.

"You should give it more time!" the boy from Seven yells from the agility course across the room. "Or maybe get a smaller one!"

"What do you know?!"

"I'm a lumberjack, you idiot!"

I storm off to the machete station. That will be much easier.

But by lunch, I've tried every single weapons station, and none of them have worked. It must be the trainers. If only they were better. At the rate that I am at, I'll be going into the Games defenseless. I might as well not even try. I wish that I could get Mommy to throw all of time back to two days ago and make sure this didn't happen, and I could never leave my mansion again. But now I'm on my own. I'm powerless. There is nothing I can do.

So, naturally, I just throw my umpteenth fit of the day and run off to eat in the corner of the canteen. This time, there isn't Mommy to eat with me. This time, there isn't any making things easier. This time, no one will respond to my tantrums. But they're all I know how to do.

Talisa Rowland, 18, District Four Female

"Well, where should we go first?"

I'm the first one courageous enough to voice the question as we all stand beside our table awkwardly while trying to remain intimidating. Of-course, the question is not to the group, but to Imperia, who is the ordained leader of us all, according to her. Not really, though. She thinks she may be, but the other four of us are all smart, that I can tell. We all know that it is best to let her go unchallenged for now, consequentially avoiding any temper flare-ups, and guide us under her trained leadership. She had no right to go up and immediately assert herself as the filler of this position, though, especially while stuck in a massive bagel costume when any of us could've pushed her down and watched her roll all the way back to her own chariot. But no, there are Games of manipulation to be played.

"I say we go to the sparring section."

Everyone else nods as Imperia walks forward in the lead as her namesake implies: imperiously.

"Excellent choice, I was just wanting to brush up on those skills," Marvel gushes, closest behind Imperia. "After we do warmups, how should we decide who goes against who when there is only five of us?"

"Whomever wants to take on whomever."

While it seems all of us are privy to this manipulative gameplay necessary in most years for the win, I have only one true competitor: Marvel. Neither of the Twos seem socially confident enough to tackle the task and naturally flock to the back of the group. Lucky for me, that is one of my strong suits. I was always the most well-liked and well-respected back at the Academy in Four.

I don't trust the One boy for a second. He oozes insincerity that I hope I am not the only one to see, though I am definitely not going to turn any of the others against him just yet, while the alliance is still fledgling and fragile. I don't trust him, and I see his secretive glances directed at me. He might know that I am on his scent and feel threatened by me. Odd, it seems, this early on.

Back in District Four at the Academy, it was strength, intelligence, and social skills that got you your spot. Lucky for me, I'm a triple threat. I don't mean to come across as cocky or anything like that, just confident in my skills. Without confidence, there is no strength. That's what the trainers at the Academy would say.

We arrive at the sparring station and each of us pick up our favorite melee weapon. I get a spear and look to my side to find that Marvel is doing the same. "I guess this is my best option," he says, laughing, to me.

On the surface, I reciprocate. "Ha ha, small world."

Arlo and Scylla are both wielding swords, while Imperia takes uncoils one of three whips with blunted blades so as not to be as painful upon contact wrapped around a metal pole menacingly.

"I want you," Imperia says, pointing at Arlo, her only rival in height.

"Well, I lay dibs on Talisa after this one," Marvel says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

This is good, a chance to read more into his battling style and learn more about how his inner clock ticks.

"Two," Imperia says, pointing her whips handle at Scylla, "you face the winner."

A trainer steps up. "I'm assuming that you five don't need any additional lessons on how to use your weapons." He is answered by a quintet of shaking heads. "Alright, well, everyone off the mat but the two fighting. You two, get in the marked corners." Imperia and Arlo back ten feet apart onto their corners. He swallows a gulp. I hope he knows to let her win this one. "Ready? Let the fight commence!"

Imperia makes the first move, lashing out with her whip. Arlo hops over it as it sweeps over his legs. The thing is practically as long as the 10-by-10-foot grid, and she purposefully picked the only one that could fit in it. She is a wildfire with her swings, so fast the only times the whips is not blurry is at its arcs by her side.

Arlo realizes that these times are when he should go, I can see it in his nervous green eyes; however, he remains put, too timid to make his move, always second-guessing himself. He is backed further and further to the edge of the mat. If he falls off, he loses. He isn't very nimble, either, and is having a hard time dodging the strikes from the whip. He has been hit by a few.

Each time that he does, he winces as Imperia cackles. The fight has the attention of all of the tributes and the Gamemakers. At last, when Imperia's whip it at her left side, Arlo takes his chance, running at her with his sword held to his right to protect himself from the whip. He swings but she drops and spins around crouched down, sending the whip straight into his legs. He falls, and she stamps her foot proudly on his chest in victory.

"Wasn't strong enough to beat me, huh? Gonna go cry to Mommy because you lost?"

I can see tears of pain building up in Arlo's eyes as he tries to stand, the abrasions bound to bruise on his arms. I can't let him suffer like this. Papa wouldn't be proud of me, nobody would back home. It's the least that I can do to help out an ally.

"It's our turn," I say, stepping onto the mat. "Right, Marvel?"

"Correct."

I help Arlo up and send him off. He quietly mouths a "thank you" to me.

Marvel steps into the ring after me. "You ready?" he asks.

"As I'll ever be," I respond.

The same trainer as before runs down all of the talking points he did previously. At his word, the fight commences.

Marvel doesn't come at me first. Instead, he hovers near his corner, holding his spear slightly awkwardly, his lithe frame for a boy from One poised to dodge any strike I make.

"Come at me, Talisa," he says tauntingly, while masquerading under a false twinge of playfulness.

"Bold words," I respond, going along with his façade. I'm poised to dodge, too, holding my spear above my shoulder and to the side.

All of a sudden, without a giveaway I twirl my spear into impaling position and thrust it at his gut. He makes a strong block with his own, and now we are stuck in yet another standstill, faces inches from each other.

We lock eyes for one moment, and I am met with a steely determination.

I twirl out of the locked guard and twist around, thrusting my spear at his gut again. He deflects it, but this time rather sloppily. It is evident that the spear really isn't his favorite weapon by a mile.

All of a sudden, he thrusts his into my gut. I feel nauseous all of a sudden, and though the tip is not sharp, my gut feels like a brick has just dropped on it. In other words, it hurts like hell. I fall to the ground in pain but dodge the strike Marvel is about to make by rolling over. I won't let my state of injury get in the way of winning this.

As he is about to bring his spear down again, I look into Marvel's eyes, and all that I see is pure and utter hatred. I Russian leg sweep his legs out from under him, and bring my spear tip to his chest.

"The fight has been won." The trainers hoists up my hand and then ushers me off of the floor to let Scylla and Imperia face off.

I extend my hand for Marvel to grab, and he does so.

"Thanks," he says. "That was a tough one. You're good. Oh, and I know what you're about to say, sorry, I let my battle-rage get ahold of me there."

"It's not biggie. Doesn't everybody, sometimes?"

"Right."

We stand to watch as Scylla flights around with her sword. In a clever move, she holds her sword up and the coil of whip wraps around in, but in an indecisive moment, Imperia yanks her weapons from her and pulls her into a headlock.

I look back over at Marvel and Arlo still sitting and clutching his ribs as we clap for Imperia. She may seem like the best primary target, but in reality, it is the boy next to me. There is something devious in the way he acts, talks, and walks. I don't like it.

I have something over him, though. I lack that certain bloodlust that I sense he doesn't. I am respectful, determined, and most of all, brave. He seems conniving and cowardly. While our manipulative forces are evenly matched, I have the upper hand: Good always wins.

Turquesa Miracelest, 17, District One Female

I'd rather be elsewhere right now. Training is alright, I guess, since I have Aquatico on my right side at all times chatting me up and making me laugh. Something about the room, though… I don't like it. I'm trapped in here, where the shadows haunt me from the blinding spotlights, just outside of my vision, though I can sometimes see them. I don't like shadows.

"Hey, am I losing you?" Aquatico says somewhat seriously, as we walk aimlessly around different stations, halfheartedly trying to decide something to do.

"No. I was just thinking about something."

"Thinking about what? Is it Arlo? I see you looking over at that nice butt from time to time."

"Um… no. I have a boyfriend back home." Valor isn't really my boyfriend, but if I'm being honest with myself, I wanted him to ask. Even if it goes against all of my dreams to be dependent on another, he was the only one who understood. He would probably said yes if I asked him.

"So do I, but that doesn't stop me from admiring the scenery."

"Oh, good lord," I say exasperatedly, yet I still find myself laughing and looking across to the weapon station where he stands. It is nice.

"I knew I'd make you look," Aquatico says triumphantly. "Anything that you want to do now? Are you sure that you don't want to go back to the agility course? It was so fun!"

"We spent half of the morning there, Aquatico, and I felt bad since those little kids seemed scared of us." I nod over to the large alliance.

It is true that the agility course was fun, but compared to how much Aquatico enjoyed it, it'd be safe to say that I looked positively bored. He also outstripped me by a mile, and by the millionth time he had run it, he set a new record for the fastest time.

"What do you want to do then?" The way Aquatico says it, like he says everything, can be seen as rude of angry on paper, but the way he delivers it isn't pushing or impatient. He's too calm and friendly for that.

I watch as the careers move around different weapon stations. Now they are practicing with throwing knives, which Marvel seems to be impressive with. That's probably what he is telling them is his prime weapon. Really, I overheard him tell Glamour it was twin sais. They seem to be attempting to monopolize all of them. The only ones they haven't scared away is the petulant Eight boy and his partner, who is currently practicing archery.

"Survival stations," I say. "It always seems like at least one of the kids from my district or your district or Two dies of natural causes every year."

"Excellent choice. Can we do the edible plants one?"

"It doesn't matter."

In reality, there is an additional reason for me wanting to try survival stations. No career ever trains in survival stations. They only have one class for that at the Academy, and it was an elective that only I and a few other girls took. It just seems so… uncareer. It feels good, just a little small taste of rebellion against them.

There is already one solitary girl at the station. I think she is from Ten. She merely sits there, with a far-off look as the teacher lectures her, blonde hair falling down her face and she looks up in a small smile, her head cocked.

"Hi," Aquatico says, introducing us, "I'm Aquatico and this is my ally Turquesa. Do you mind if we take two cushions?"

Aquatico is the energetic, extroverted one. I'm far from that. Back home, I could count my friends on one hand. All of them were male. I'm not much for the glitzy, overdramatized lives of most of my peers. Outdoors is much better. Valor was the only one of them I could really talk to, but now I have Aquatico, and he's already my second-best friend after just a day. Like I said, I don't have many.

"No." That is the girl's whole response.

"What's your name?"

"Rhiannon. Call me Ri."

"Okay, Ri. You much good at this stuff?"

"Yes. Goodbye."

She gets up, and, as if a misty cloud follows her, she is off, walking away as if in a slow-motion dream, serenely smiling up at nothing the rest of us can see.

"Geez. She didn't even ask for our names," I say to Aquatico.

"I don't care. We're all the same deep down, aren't we?" It takes me a second to realize that it is still this girl Ri that speaks from yards away, still slowly drifting off and not bothering to turn to look at us.

"Ugh," he whispers as she walks off, "Why did we gave to get stuck in a year with a bunch of crazies? It's like we're the only sane two in the bunch?" He throws his hands wide to encompass all twenty-two of the others. Fair assessment.

"It's why we need to stick together."

The training lesson goes well. I'm a fast learner. Aquatico was too preoccupied with cracking jokes to absorb most of what the trainer said, but it was still beneficial. I wish they had a core class like that back in One, it was very interesting.

I don't want to go out like a career, because I'm not a career. I don't want to kill if unthreatened. I don't want to bully, either.

"Come on," I say to Aquatico, "let's practice with spears."

I want to get as good as I used to be before I just stopped trying at the Academy since I never wanted to volunteer. Or be Reaped, for that matter.

"Fine by me. I need to learn a real weapon, anyway, all I know I hand to hand and gymnastics."

"Come on, I'll teach you."

All of a sudden, the career girl from Nine, evidently the leader, is in front of us out of nowhere, sneering. Behind her is Marvel, my partner, who is doing the same. The other three stand reluctantly behind them.

"Sorry, this is career territory. You best get your sorry asses out of here and go back to the plant stations where you came from."

"Last I checked there was a sign about five feet from me that said this was open to everyone. Sorry, I know it must be hard for you if you're so dumb you never learned to read." It comes out of me instantaneously; I don't even have to think to say it. I can't vacuum those words back into my mouth now, and I don't want to. It feels good to rebel just one step further against the careers. "Oh, but I should have known, since you were stupid enough to volunteer for this in the first place."

I elbow my way past her, and an awe-struck and laughing Aquatico walks through behind me. A priceless look is on Imperia's face. "You got a problem with me, settle it in the arena, bitch."

"She's right, I've you violate the rules you will be sent to time-out for the rest of the day," a trainer watching us advises, before ducking his head meekly at Imperia's death stare.

"Wow, that was insane," Aquatico says to me. "I didn't know you could dole 'em out that good. That's my caliber."

"I know."

I love that sense of victory over them before the Games have even started. I know that I have already won over the five of them, because I am not in their little posse. I'm better than that. At least that I can die knowing, if indeed I do.

"It was hilarious, I'll give you that, but you might not have wanted to lay it on that thick, especially when that girl looks like a death machine," Aquatico chastises while putting his aloof spin on everything.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about dragging you down with me. But I don't regret it. If I go down, I'll do it fighting. I'll never be one of them. Now, let's get training."

What do you think? The first day of training has started, and with it comes some eventful things. Aleyn has dropped out of Nerissa's Band, Cassius fails at everything including finding the real problem with himself, Talisa analyzes the competition while remaining ignorant to the real origin of her feud with Marvel, and Turquesa stands up to the careers. Which of these developments was your favorite? What about your favorite POV? Please leave it all in the reviews as always. Just in case you were made if you thought not even of actual training was in the POVs, there will be less and less outside training as this POV bracket progresses, though there will be some dedicated partially if not mostly to outside-of-training developments.

I also noticed that not very many people read the interlude chapter, and nobody reviewed it, so even if you don't review, you should still go back and read it since it will be very important later on in the story, and I am very proud of the subplot I have created. Every review makes my day and means so much to me, so always remember to give me one.

I have a big announcement to make, and that is that I will be going on vacation with my fam. It is a national park RV tour, so I'll have plenty of time to write, though I won't have WiFi for most of it and therefor won't be able to update. Expect a chapter out when I get back, and if I have completed two, another one a week later so I can pace things out a bit. If I have a tribute in your story, I'll try to review as a guest if you update.

With all of that out of the way, here are the questions:

What further alliance shifts do you think will occur if any?

What is the name of the District Eleven escort?

Have a wonderful rest of the day wherever you are, and I look forward to seeing you in about two weeks!

-Mills