District 9: Harper Lamb (12) Pov-

"What do you say to a little duel?" Luc asks, starting toward the cart of swords. "My lady."

"Thank you, kind gentleman." I mimic his fake Capitol accent as he hands me my sword, and, for the briefest second, our hands touch and my heart flutters a bit.

"Ready when you are," he mutters.

We stand in silence for a few seconds, and I can't help but notice how astounding his blue eyes look in the light overhead.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." I quickly look away, blushing.

Luc is the first to make a move, and I barely have time to dance out of the way. The battle is fake, but adrenaline rushes through my veins nonetheless. I can't shake the thought out of my mind that this very situation could play out in a week. But there won't be any peacekeepers waiting with medical supplies then.

I spin around him, and he jumps high into the air, his blonde hair standing on end as he falls back down. The thud echoes around the training center. I notice two gamemakers peering down curiously at us.

I swing my sword to the left, and it hits Luc in the torso. He falls to the ground, wheezing. "Oh lord, you're good," he mutters, sounding to be in extreme pain.

"Oh, no!" I cry, kneeling beside him. "Are you hurt? I didn't mean to hurt you!"

Luc jumps to his feet, as healthy and robust as ever before, and thrusts his sword behind my neck, trapping me against the blade.

"You're dead," he says triumphantly.

"Hey! That's not fair!"

"Nobody says it had to be fair," Luc says with a cocky smile.

I quickly walk to the rack, turning away from him. Panic courses through me. If I can't even bring myself to hurt him, how will I ever be able to last long in the arena? Add that to the fact that I've just humiliated myself in front of my crush and one could probably see why I'm not very happy.

"I suppose just one more duel wouldn't hurt," I admit as I grab a new sword, this one curved and looking more menacing than the last.

Luc puts his hand to his chin. "I suppose it would not."

This time, I have the edge. I know Luc's funny business. Once, he tries to trap me into the corner of the gymnasium. But I know what's coming. I dance out of the way, past a girl at the rope-tying station, and onto a tall crate full of weapons. By the time Luc catches up on me, I have time to pounce like a cat, lightly knocking my sword into his back.

"You're dead," I repeat, feeling slightly more confident than before.

District 5: Arthur Wattson (17) Pov-

"Just a little farther."

"I can't. My arms are killing me!" I groan, grabbing the next bar of the course despite every cell in my body screaming for me to drop to the ground.

"Wow. You suck at this," Orford calls up to me. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You suck at everything."

Rage courses through me, and I fall, bending my knees as I land hard on the tiled floor.

"You're annoying," I say.

Orford chuckles. "Well you're ugly."

"Fine." I storm away and sit down at the first station I come to. I can't believe those poor gutter rats from the lower districts have the nerve to talk to me like that! In the arena, I could slice his head off with an axe. Or maybe a sword. No… a bludgeon. I push the thoughts out of my head. I suppose if I want to win the Capitol's hearts I might as well show them that I have one of my own.

It's only after a few seconds that I figure out what station I'm at. The edible bugs station. A thought crosses my mind of trying to shove a slippery cricket down my throat, and I gag a little. Eating bugs is for barbarians. The other rabble tributes. I really want to leave, but a gamemaker is watching me from high up and I don't want to make them think I'm not devoted enough to stay at one station for long.

The holographic screen glows, giving me my first instructions. Brightly colored insects aren't usually safe. Never eat anything with bright coloring. Nothing I didn't already know.

I grab a cup from the corner of the counter, filled with fake insects. I feel like a kindergartener as I pull out the brightly-colored insects and throw them in the fake trash bin.

Over the course of the next hour or so, the computer instructs me on everything there is to know about eating insect. I'm more surprised than I probably should be that I've learned a lot. Don't eat anything with a hard shell. There's a chance it'll contain parasites. If the insects have saliva in the corners of their mouths, feed them on fresh greens for 24 hours before eating them. Cooking the insects gives them a better taste and helps to kill parasites.

I still have a bone to pick with those poor kids, though.

District 4: Cyan Costas (18) Pov-

Thwack!

The point of my spear rattles as it makes hard contact with the cloth dummy. Adelaide hardly bats an eye as she tears the spear out of the cloth and throws it back to me.

"You threw it at an angle that time," Adelaide reports. "Try to throw straighter."

I find myself slightly peeved that she's acting like she knows everything when she can't even throw the spear accurately herself, but getting angry in the training center never leads to anything good. Never.

I sigh and throw the spear again. It lands in the neck of the dummy and makes a small piercing before falling downward, dangling by a couple strands of thread.

"Better." Adelaide tosses the weapon back.

They say that the third time's the charm, and this is proven true as I hurl the weapon as straight as I can manage. It lands in the mannequin's flesh perfectly, causing the table to rumble underneath it due to the force. I lower my arm, feeling triumphant.

Adelaide looks surprised herself. "Great. Let me try."

Grateful for the rest, I lean against the wall. Wiping a layer of warm sweat off of my forehead, I watch Adelaide kneel down with the spear. She tosses the weapon, and it misses the dummy by a breadth of a foot.

Figuring I might as well say something encouraging to get rid of the disappointed expression on her face, I remark, "Everyone has to start somewhere." I didn't intend to come off as rude, but I think I've done it.

She doesn't say anything as she gets back into position. I blink as the spear flies past me, misses my nose by a centimeter, and hits the dummy.

"Woah, that was sick!" a nearby boy remarks. "Really amazing."

Noticing the confused looks on our faces, the boy explains. "My name's Lincoln. From 6. District 6."

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Adelaide breaks the silence after an uncomfortably long amount of time. "Can we see what you're doing?"

"Sure," Lincoln says, welcoming us toward him. He's completing some kind of logic puzzle. Several colorful bands of plastic are intertwined together. Lincoln twists the shape and pulls on the loops.

"What's the goal?" I ask.

"To untangle the loops. It's supposed to enhance your brain's thinking power."

I instantly get the impression that this kid is someone who believes in third eyes and horoscopes and stuff. I've always had a bad habit of making assumptions about other people. I probably shouldn't be complaining. That attribute could be the one that saves Cyan Costas' life in the arena.

District 8: Twilla Weaver (13) Pov-

I try to keep the camouflage station. My best bet is hiding during the games. As long as I figure out good strategies to keep myself out of sight I have a much better chance of making it past the first day. But I can't shake what my mentor Cecelia said yesterday out of my mind. I can't stay this timid and innocent when only the most fearless and bloodthirsty tributes produce victors.

Caden sits down beside me. Even though it's been three days since the reaping, we haven't spoken a word to each other. I'd talk to him, but he's not exactly approachable. He's been too scared to hold a conversation for more than a few minutes. However, he must have decided he wants to talk to me because he picks up a brush of his own and starts painting.

"How's life?" Caden asks, slapping a line of brown paint onto his arm.

I sigh. "Pretty much as great as it can be. We're training for the Hunger Games." I find my tone more pessimistic and lifeless than I had intended.

"It's not like District 8 never produces victors," he says. "I mean, we're both strong enough, right?"

I automatically look at myself and see just another District 8 girl. Nothing to see here. Move on to the flashier kids from the upper districts. I suppose Caden must either be extremely optimistic or blissfully unintelligent, because from what I can see of him he doesn't look like a very strong fighter either.

I notice Caden struggling to apply a few finer lines of grey coloring to his arm. Setting down my own jar of paint, I lean toward him to give him a bit of help.

"You're pressing down with the brush too hard. Use the tip and try to rest your hand against the table."

Caden's results instantly improve, and he stares at me like I've just let him in on the secrets of the afterlife. "Thank you… what's your name? Twill?"

"Twilla," I correct.

I steady myself in my chair and reach for the jar of green paint, speaking as I struggle to open the tightly-sealed jar. "Who came to say goodbye to you?" I ask.

I can instantly tell I've trespassed on personal territory. "Well, my mom and my dad and my… my sister," he answers. "And my friend Jute."

I automatically think of my friends in District 8. I hope they don't watch the games. At least I hope they won't be watching when… well… it's not helping at all to think about it.

District 2: Nero Ryker (18) Pov-

"Aren't you going to invite your partner to train with us?" I ask Declan.

Declan lofts his axe into the air, glancing momentarily at his partner across the room. From what I've seen of that Sangria girl, she's not the sharpest tool in the shed, and she's spending her time trying to flirt with the boy from District 11. I try to think of his name. I'm pretty sure it starts with a "J" but I can't place my finger on it.

"No. That girl is really weird," Declan answers.

He brings down his axe, burying it into the dummy's head. The cloth is strong, but the metal blade of the axe slices through it like butter.

"Well it's dead now," I say, getting into position to go in with my whip. It's a strategy we've been developing for about an hour. He renders the tribute defenseless with his axe and I finish him off with my whip. We've also been training with different weapons like swords and brass knuckles in case the weapons we like aren't supplied.

I bring down my bladed whip, letting the teeth sink into the cloth. I yank it back. The dummy is torn apart, pieces flying everywhere. One piece lands at the feet of a nearby girl, and she kicks it away mindlessly.

"Wow. That girl is fine," Declan says, grinning.

"Stop!" I demand "You're going to turn out like your partner."

"No, seriously, what's her name?"

"I dunno. But she's from 7."

Declan frowns and quickly turns back toward the newest mannequin. "You go first, Nero."

I ready my whip, raising it overhead. The whip cracks, and I bring it down. The teeth dig into the dummy and tear it off of the table. I imagine doing that to a real person, and, though I'd never admit it, it makes me feel a little icky.

"Now that I think about it," Declan says. "Where's your partner?"

"Jaehaera? I dunno. Your turn."

But Declan keeps talking "Our group is already small. It seems a bit wrong to be so fractured during training, don't you think?"

"You literally just said you don't want to be training with Sangria."

"I guess I changed my mind. She's part of our pack, whether she's valuable or not," he explains.

"But how are we going to get her away from that 11 boy?"

"Great question."

District 3: Pixel Watt (12) Pov-

The few hours that I've spent with Hopper have been more than enough to prove that he's the coolest kid in Panem. He's always ready to have a good laugh and his love of mischief is admirable. One could say he's a copy of myself.

I kneel onto the dirt and grab a stick. The holographic screen nearby instructs us through setting up a snare trap. I watch as Hopper uses a rock to shove his stick into the ground.

"Ah, yes," I remark. "We go through an elaborate selection ceremony and are treated like celebrities in front of thousands of people so we can drill sticks into dirt."

Hopper's youthful smile grows. At first I wonder why he's enjoying the snare so much, but then I realize he's looking at something else. Hopper's gaze jumps between a nearby pail filled with dirt and the nearest trainer.

"No! Don't!" I urge. I'm usually all in for mischief but now is not the time. "The gamemakers are watching and they can kill you in the arena!"

"So?" he says, as if this explains everything.

"So?"

"So," Hopper repeats. "What does it matter if I die? Everyone's gotta die sometime and it hardly matters if your life was filled with great feats. Great feats such as… making other people's lives a pain."

"Okay. I give up. But we should at least finish the station first."

"Agreed."

We both turn back to our snares and finish them. I complete mine with relative ease, but Hopper seems to be having trouble. He keeps applying too much tension, snapping his sticks in half.

"Wow, you're good at this," Hopper breathes. "Allies?"

I nod my head in agreement without much thought. Ever since we met on the way down here I assumed we'd ally. Being friends in the games has certainly helped tributes before. Why not now?

District 11: Adelia Faye (15) Pov-

I drum my knives anxiously against my thigh as the instructor explains the rules of the station. I'm not at the knife station alone, though. Another girl is here. Her uniform explains that she's from District 12, but that's nothing I couldn't already tell. She has the same dark eyes and dark hair that are common in District 12 tributes, and the sallow lines on her face tell me she's not a stranger to hunger.

"Alright, let's see what you two can do," the trainer says. When he steps out of the way, two peacekeepers approach and flank him on either side. I suppose they're there in case the 12 girl or I tried to attack him, though I've never heard of that happening before.

"You want to go first?" the 12 girl asks, looking just as nervous as I feel.

"Sure."

I plant my feet firmly below me and hold the knife up into the air just like the trainer demonstrated. I bring it down and plant it into the block of cloth. I must have used too little force, because the knife only pierces through about a centimeter of the target. I step back, discouraged.

"Don't be disappointed," the 12 girl reassures me. "I'm way worse than you. What's your name?"

"Adelia Faye," I answer, "District 11."

"Pleasure," the girl says. "Remi Gardner. District 12."

Remi steps forward and lifts both of her knives into the air. When she brings them down, they both miss the dummy, and her hands knock into each other. Remi staggers backward with pain.

"Oh no!" I yell. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Remi groans. "Just… a little… accident."

We complete the knife station over the next few minutes. By the time we finish, there are only three minutes left until noon. Time for lunch.

A peacekeeper blows a whistle from the corner of the room. There's a great clatter as everyone sets down what they're doing. There's a chorus of "sorry, excuse me" as we all get in order of district. Then the twenty-five of us file out of the room and walk down the hall to the cafeteria.

It's an amazing sight. Twelve tables are laid out in a circle, with paper tents indicating which table is for which district. The thirteenth table is piled high with roasted meat, bowls of fruit, pasta salad, and greens. A sigh tumbles from my lips as I savor the aroma of more food in one place than I've ever seen in my life. The peacekeeper dismisses us, and we grab all of the food our plates can hold. I grab a great slab of steak and several heaped spoonfuls of pasta salad before sitting down at the District 11 table.

I let out a little yelp of shock as Remi sits down beside me.

"You're supposed to sit at your table," I say.

"Nah. You can sit wherever you want," she explains. "The careers are all sitting at the same table."

"So," Remi says, starting on her mountain of cauliflower. "Maybe, I was thinking…"

"Allies?" I complete.

"Yes!" Remi says.

I take a while to think it over. Being from Districts 11 and 12, I'd say an alliance is the best way to increase our already small chances of survival. Whenever a tribute from a super poor district wins, it's usually because they were in a strong alliance.

I slowly nod my head, grateful that I won't be completely alone in the difficult weeks to come.

District 8: Caden Yarnn (16) Pov-

If I've learned anything from my few days in the Capitol, it's that starting a fire is really, really hard.

It's not like I'm completely stupid. I've never actually believed that you can start a fire with two sticks. But what they don't tell you in wilderness shows is that it can take hours to get a flame going, and by the time you do you'll probably be too exhausted and tired to appreciate it fully.

Someone clears their throat behind me. I swerve around. It's my district partner… what's her name… Twilla? I hung out with her at the camouflage station earlier today. I guess the stress of the games is fogging up my memory.

"Need some help there… Caden?" Twilla says.

My first instinct is to say that I'm fine, but I figure that getting to know my district partner a little better can't hurt. I waddle to the side, and Twilla kneels beside me, relieving my calloused hands of the burden.

"Looks like you're not too bad. Give yourself another few minutes and you'll be able to do this."

I sigh. "I'm convinced these needles are designed not to burn easily."

Twilla nods her head slowly in agreement. "They probably are. That, or the plants here are so healthy and hydrated that it takes a lot to get them started. The plants in District 8 burn like paper, remember?"

I don't nod. Thoughts of home just hurt.

Twilla shoves everything into position and starts rubbing the bow back and forth. The stick twists and twists around in the tinder, but nothing happens. In the first ten minutes, she has a light smolder going. But then the stick snaps in half, and Twilla tumbles forward, scarcely able to roll out of the way of the hot needles.

My first thought is that we're both hopeless. But hey. One in twenty-four is still a chance, right?

Alliances:

Careers: Sangria, Declan, Nero, Jaehaera

Pranksters 'R' Us: Pixel, Hopper

11 and 12: Adelia, Remi

Loners (For Now): Joule, Dory, Cyan, Adelaide, Arthur, Lexus, Lincoln, Cerise, Erik, Twilla, Caden, Harper, Luc, Mavvi, Orford, Jaro

I hope you liked the chapter! Each training day is going to showcase 8 tributes, so that all 24 will get a Pov. I randomly picked names from a hat for which tributes would go to which day, so don't get weirded-out if there are more female tributes than male on one day or more careers on one day than another. Please review :D

Question 1: True or false: roasted meat is not provided in the cafeteria at the training center.

Question 2: What bad habit does Cyan have?