.

And I am whatever you say I am.
If I wasn't, then why would I say I am?

Ezra Jefferson, District Five

Standing and yawning, I shake my head as if to rid myself of the vivid nightmares that plagued me last night – mainly ones of Maysa and Maya, each ending in a gory death – and open my bedroom curtains, revealing a dark cityscape. Whoops. I press a button on the panel next to the window, and it quickly shows a bright, glorious, pink and orange sunrise illuminating the Capitol. Beautiful, just beautiful.

I lace my fingers together and sniff the air. Pancakes, with sticky-sweet maple syrup. Powdered sugar. Hot chocolate. Fresh orange juice. Sizzling bacon, probably dripping with salty juices. Sauces, sauces, sauces. And lastly, the scent of freshly cooked eggs.

Trying to keep a positive face on, I ceremoniously walk from my room and into the kitchen, where Maya already sits, gobbling down a cheesy scrambled egg platter. A half-empty glass of a mysterious reddish purple juice sits next to her.

"Morning, Ezzy!" chirps Maya, motioning wildly for me to join her. I plop on a high stool to her left, noticing her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. If I hadn't known better, I'd say something amazing happened to her, like her boy crush asked her out or she inherited a large sum of money.

"Good morning, Maya." I smile down into the platters of hot foods, quickly pulling a small stack of pancakes onto my plate, along with some strips of greasy bacon. To top it off, syrup drizzled over the entirety of the thing and a cup of simple cranberry juice.

"Good morning, Maya and Ezra!" Scarlett, my mentor, floats in as if descended from a cloud, beaming.

"Lovely day!" Maya announces.

"Yes, such a wonderful day!" Scarlett gushes. She clutches my hand. "Training sessions today, kiddos! I'm so excited for you two!"

"I'm excited, too," says my district partner, her throat working overtime to swallow her breakfast and speak at the same time. "Ezra and I have been training really hard. Now is our day to flaunt it all and try to get a high score, yeah?"

"Not a high score," I pipe up timidly. I stare at my fingernails. "I mean, we don't want to be targeted by the Careers."

Maya shakes her head. "So what if they take notice of us? Noticeable is good, it draws us sponsors!"

"But it can also get you killed," Scarlett replies, siding with me. I gaze gratefully at her as she continues, "Hey, though, I'm not the keeper of your actions. Flub it or ace it, I'll be proud of you two either way."

"Proud?"

Kassidy's accusatory voice rings out in a screechy, unappealing way, and I nearly duck for cover from the iciness it brings with it. She draws herself in, glaring at Maya in particular, whose ruddy cheeks suddenly seem pale and lifeless under her scowl.

"Yeah, proud," Scarlett says dismissively, waving her off and helping herself to a bunch of rotund green grapes. "Honestly, you'd have to be blind not to see-"

"That we have a thief among us," Kassidy growls, slinking closer and closer to Maya.

I'm confused, all of a sudden. "Thief? What?"

Maya's not confused; rather, she's more in the know than anybody except Kassidy. Her breath comes in shallow pants. She stands, eyes locked with her mentor's. "Kassidy, please…"

"You never told me what you were, what you've done!" Kassidy tries hard to keep an angry voice hidden. "You never said that you were a kleptomaniac!"

The room is silent except for the bubbling of water and the sizzling of bacon on a frying pan, which a dark-skinned Avox rushes to take off the burner. Even those noises seem muted, Maya's silence louder than all of them.

"What happened?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"I'm s-sorry," Maya whimpers, tears rushing to the corners of her eyes. "I didn't mean for anything like this to happen…"

"What happened?" I ask loudly.

Kassidy blatantly ignores me, rushing towards Maya and jabbing a finger at her, and all of a sudden I'm the background character, like I've always been in my family, and I'm so unused to it here that I feel like a spoiled kid when the evil emotions rush to my head, and I clutch my head, which feels like a ton of bricks has been dropped on it, and it hurts, and it hurts, and nobody cares-

"Ezra?!"

Scarlett's voice, clear and fluent.

"Ezra!"

Kassidy's voice, crackling and hissed.

"Ezra!"

Maya's voice, sounding exactly like a plate being dropped on the floor. Wait, what?

I look up to see that they never really called my name, they're still too focused on Maya- Scarlett was a rush of water, poured into the sink by an Avox. Kassidy's was the bacon, blackening and burning on the pan. Maya's was the plate, dropped on the stone floor.

Nobody cared about me. They were too wrapped up in Maya's business.

Feeling needy and selfish, I tug on the sleeve of Scarlett's grey caftan. "S-Scarlett?"

She turns to me, watery brown eyes suddenly filled with exasperation. "Not now, Ezra, please," she spits out. "Stop being a baby, there are bigger matters to deal with here!"

Rejected, thrown around, all-around angry, my hands curl up into hard, tight fists.

When one of them connects with Scarlett's jaw, creating a sickening cracking sound, I even shock myself. I stand back, feeling like a ghost as Kassidy and Maya stop jabbing at each other and gaping at Scarlett instead. Two Avoxes rush to the pantry, where the medical supplies are located, and bonk heads on the way.

I take messy steps backward. "I-I'm sorry," I stammer out, hands shaking. "I really didn't mean… honestly, Scarlett, I'm so sorry…"

My mentor turns to me, teeth chattering with either pain or rage. Her eyes are watering with tears of betrayal. Her face is inflamed already.

And then she howls.

"Aaaaaauuugggghhhhh!"

Juno Verdet, District Four

"Aaaaaauuuugghhhhh!"

Letting loose a short shriek of my own to follow the first, tumbling off the side of my bed, and slamming my head on the bedside table, I groan in slight anger. Who screamed? It was too manly to be Merritt.

I'm kidding.

I open my door with a sweeping motion, revealing a frazzled-looking Nuke rushing towards Annie's bedroom, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open slightly. I follow him, yawning in my silky turquoise pajama bottoms and grey sweatshirt. Not long after, I hear Merritt plodding down the hall after us.

"Annie? Who screamed?"

"N-N-Nuke!" Annie's bottom lip trembles as she points towards her bureau. "Look!"

Nuke follows her gaze to the furniture, where a single drawer is tugged out so that it droops towards the floor, nearly out of its sockets. It looks like there's been a raid… but how?

"What happened?" I exclaim, rushing to the said drawer. I delicately pluck a silver anklet out, where it catches light from the window with its curtains thrown back.

Annie sniffles. "It must have happened sometime last night, but I don't remember anything too out of the ordinary. I was just lying in bed, dreaming about my father and his habits…"

She trails off, staring tearfully at us three when suddenly Nuke's eyes fall upon his golden watch. "Oh, darn it, you two! It's growing late, we'd better march down to the training center, and immediately!"

"But I haven't even had breakfast!" I protest, pulling at my messy braid. "And I'm not in the training outfit, and my hair's a wreck…"

Merritt glares. "Geez, Juno, just slap on a hat. Who cares what you wear? And I thought you were one to care about more than physical appearances."

"I do," I insist, scurrying to the kitchen. I grab an orange from the counter. "It's just, I like to make a good impression, and Nuke says that the Gamemakers measure you on more than just your performance!"

"But that's their job, to grade your skills." Merritt frowns.

I roll my eyes, splitting the orange in half and squirting sticky sweet juice all over my front. "They scale you on your altogether stuff, the whole package." I throw a wedge of orange in my mouth and chew the mushy food furiously. " That's why you never see the lice-ridden, dirty little tributes getting tens and elevens."

"They don't have any survival or weaponry skills, Juno." Merritt glares for the second time in a short span of minutes.

"Man, you sure are negative." I throw another wedge in my mouth and bow slightly. "Well, while you 'slap on a hat' and go down dressed in your pristine purple silk pajamas, I'm gonna spend a bit of extra time and actually groom myself, hair and teeth and all."

I leave the scowling boy in the kitchen. In just under eight minutes, I manage to throw on the designated training outfit, still a bit stiff from yesterday, run a brush through my hair and tie it into a high and messy ponytail, and swipe a toothbrush across my pearly whites, making my breath fresh and minty.

Merrittt is already down in the training center by the time I emerge from the elevator. He's chatting it up with Brux and Wraith, his blond hair a bit of a mess but otherwise presentable. I roll my eyes slightly and join the three.

"Morning, Juno," Wraith murmurs quietly.

"Morning, Juno," Brux echoes with a small smile.

"Hey, y'all." I wink at them, casually leaning back in my chair. "It's been a pretty hectic morning, if I do say so myself."

"We know, Merritt told us." Brux shakes his head. "That's crazy. How could your mentor's room have been broken into? Especially with the tip-top Capitol security cameras and Avoxes roaming the places."

"Whoever done it must have been sneaky," I agree, swiveling my gaze around the training area to survey the other tributes.

Carisa and Eidra are nearly sitting in each others' laps, giggling and pointing at the small alliances that have been formed. Eidra whispers something and Carisa lets out a sort of wounded howl that vaguely resembles a laugh.

Meanwhile, the pair from Five and the girl from Nine are animated, talking with bright expressions and wide eyes. Well, the females, anyways. The two girls have their hair in matching braids, each making small talk, while the boy seems to be a slumping zombie with bags under his eyes. The little group of boys from Three, Nine, and Ten are still waking up, nibbling on crackers that they must have snuck downstairs.

Kinton and Haven, the duo from Twelve, are pretty much showing zero emotions. Kinton stares blankly ahead, holding his chin in his hands, elbows resting on the table. Meanwhile, Haven yawns and listlessly fiddles with the buttons on her training suit. Our ex-ally, Soren, and his new friend, Halcyon, are a sight to see- Soren's desperately trying to cheer the sleepy Halcyon up, with bright smiles and excited chatter. Halcyon's dead to it all. The girl from Six and the girl from Eight are like that of Kinton and Haven, each tiredly mumbling to each other.

The last alliance, Shael and Tethys, are each smiling faintly, chattering loudly and rather obnoxiously, sort of putting on a show for the brooding Aspen Northwood and Cole Tenacity, each of the latter slumping with the knowledge that they're alone. Kiera Brennan, also a loner, has her face buried in her hands. And Ellika Mayes? Why, she's scowling about, glaring at every tribute who dares look at her and her bright red hair.

It's kinda fun to watch everybody.

I stare blankly, still drowsy from being awakened so early, until I realize that one of our pack has left us. Carisa sashays out of the room, gaining stares from a couple male tributes and a scoff from Eidra.

"What's up?" I ask her.

"Carisa. She thinks she's all that and a bag of chips, but really she's a big faker." Eidra rolls her eyes, smirking. "But you know, let her be what she wants, right?"

This sends a sort of panicked sweat to emerge from my armpits and I sit back, a fake smile plastered to my face. Another secret to add to my box…

Eidra and Carisa are slowly falling out. Let the Games begin.

Eidra Nevett, District Two

"Eidra Nevett, District Two."

My name. I smile easily, sliding out of my chair and offering a beam to the tributes that stare at me. Juno is among them, suddenly quiet. Her gaunt eyes follow me as I walk to the door, confident in my own skin.

"Ta-ta," I mouth to her and the rest of our alliance as I stride into the training room, light and easy on my feet.

Gamemakers stare down at me from an elevated platform. I wave to them, fingers wiggling, and offer up a gracious, angelic, innocent smile. "Hello," I call out, my voice unstrained and clear. "I'm Eidra Nevett, and I'd like to show you all why I am worthy of a ten, eleven, or even a twelve!"

It's tough to contain my bubbling excitement, especially when my hands fall upon my beloved spear. My hands shake, and I have to forcibly whisper, "Calm down, calm down, calm down." This is so exciting!

The first spear that I throw collides with the target, the spearhead buried deep in one of the inner rings. Not quite perfect, but good anyways. I conceal my smile by ducking my head, selecting another spear.

This one hits an outer ring, and vibrates with a sort of aftershock once it's stuck in there. Even worse, but that doesn't daunt my gleefulness by a bit. Rather, I try to up the ante by doing rapid fire. I throw one spear into the target by my dominant hand, shuffle to the right, and then throw another with my left hand.

I can hear murmurs behind me, the Gamemakers mumbling about themselves, and I know that they're either saying good or bad things. There is no neutral. It's just like how, in life, there is only black or white. Grey is unknown.

Pressing my mouth in a determined line and squinting my eyes, I mentally try to prepare myself for victory, just like I've always been destined for.

I exhale, closing my eyes briefly. I grip a spear from a display, hand shaking slightly. From the adrenaline, or the nervousness, or the excitement? There's no way to find out.

My eyelids flutter open, and I peer at the Gamemakers from my long eyelashes, lengthened and volumized previously by my yellow-clad stylist. They're all waiting in anticipation, pressed against a thin glass pane which separates us. One of them taps her wrist, as if she's telling me to hurry up.

I roll my shoulders back, and stride forward with verve and spirit. The spear is warm in my hand.

I inhale. I throw, and then close my eyes.

Hearing a splintering noise that makes my eyes open in shock, a small gasp escapes from my parted lips. But it's not a sad sight that beholds me, but a sight that would make any tribute squeal in joy or cower in fear.

The spear lies directly in the center of the target, if not a bit off to the left.

I try to contain myself, but it's hard not to flash a white, winning smile to the Gamemakers and allow myself a short screech of glee. But I manage by, the Gamemakers giving me either amused looks or interested smirks.

My training session ends all too quickly, but I've managed to get in a bit more spear-throwing and even a little bit of plant identification in, though I botch up on some generic green leaves. It doesn't matter. My weaponry skills will definitely be enough to carry me through to an extravagantly stellar score- at least, I hope so.

I want to exit from where I came from, maybe give a bit of encouragement to Juno and the others, but two sullen-looking Avoxes usher me into an elevator. I pout out at them from it, but they merely sigh and turn away.

I expect for Helios and Hestia to be bouncing off the walls, begging for answers and details from my training session, but nothing happens. Hestia merely looks up from a hug mug of coffee and smiles softly, while Helios is passed out on the couch, mouth open and looking unappealing. Wraith sits next to Hestia, looking inquisitively over a Capitol newspaper.

"Well?" I cock my head slightly and rest my hand on my hip. "Don't you guys want to know what I did in private training?"

"I excelled," Wraith says.

I smile dryly. Good for him. "Well, Hestia, Helios, you, and I can all discuss them as a team. That would be fun, yeah?" I feel like I'm talking to a child.

The pale guy shrugs. "I already told Hestia what I did. Sliced a couple dummies, for the most part."

"Yeah, that's what I did, too-" I begin.

"Then you wouldn't need to tell us anything more, would you?" Wraith interrupts rudely, smiling darkly.

I turn away, suddenly not so eager to share my training session with them. If I'm not going to be appreciated for the decent human that I am – because I know I'm special, but it's not like I'm a queen or something – than why stay with the people that will only drag me down?

Why feed them the fuel they need for their fires of indifference?

Halcyon Chae, District Six

Soren's gone. He was the first one out. I'm sitting by Aria, now, and her ally, who is positively outside of herself with anxiety. Her chewed-up fingernails are legitimately scattered on the table, looking nubbly and disgusting, and the girl herself is paler than the moon.

"W-What if I mess up?" Cayley chatters away, brown eyes darting about the room. They meet Cade Bennett's, and she looks away quickly, inhaling sharply. "This is gonna determine my entire future with sponsors, you know, Aria."

Aria gives a little sigh and writes something down. Not true.

"Yes, it does!" Cayley brushes Aria's words off and gets up from her feet, quick to stalk around the room and glare at anybody who sends her a questioning look.

Aria frowns, her pencil etching tiny symbols across the creamy white of the notepad. She's a monster to work with. She considers this, then crosses it out and rewrites, She can be a pain at times.

I snort. "I have one, too." I shake my head. "Soren came up to me, practically on his knees for an alliance. And who am I to deny him the pleasure of my friendship?" I laugh wryly to let her know I'm joking, after which she gives a pained sort of wheeze.

A name is called. Not mine, not yet.

I watch as Maya Verone emerges from the company of Maysa Barric to get to the door. She pauses for a moment, glancing back at everybody. Her eyes meet mine, glittering and dark. A small smile is offered by her, sphinxlike and mysterious. She leaves.

"I suppose I'm up next," I say nonchalantly, lacing my fingers together and plopping my hands on the table. "What do you think I should do, Aria? Maybe chuck some spears, or 'accidentally' poison myself?"

Aria's lips pucker, and she holds up her notepad, already having written something down. Do what you're good at, Halcyon.

I smile grimly. What am I good at? That Maya girl, who just left, she's celestial at acrobatics and the sort. Aria's excellent at dabbling with poisons, as is the gaunt redhead from Eleven. Even little Griff Forden has found his niche with the wires. And where do I stand? Uneven, on the brink of destruction.

For the majority my life I've felt like a failure, ever since my brother died. It only continues here. There is no escape. I was deluded when I thought that the Capitol would offer a reprieve from my depressing life.

News flash. It doesn't.

The minutes drag on. My name is called, and Aria nudges my elbow, scribbling down two simple words. Good luck.

"Thanks," I reply loudly, drawing the attention of most of the remaining tributes, all except for Cayley, who's still pacing the room.

I stride to the door, not stopping to look back at anybody or smile civilly. Instead, I throw open the door and march into the training center, staring at the Gamemakers with an unhappy look on my face.

One with black and blue hair hoots at me. "Get on with it!"

I shake my head slightly, moving over to the first station I see- knot-tying. I remember I dabbled with this a bit in training, while Soren jabbered on and one endlessly about himself and his insecurities and doubts.

Picking up a thin taupe rope, I start mindlessly tying a simple knot, one that can create a trap with ease and finesse, though it may sometimes be ineffective. I smile unconsciously to myself, realizing that I have more knowledge stored up than I give myself credit for.

I rise, looping the rope around the neck of a dummy and pulling tight. It tightens, not nearly enough to do much damage, but it sure looks impressive. I glance over to the Gamemakers to find them murmuring amongst themselves.

A good sign?

I move onto the next station, the specialty weapons one. My blowgun sits behind the counter, tucked neatly away where the trainer always put it. Behind it sit three others, but I focus on my special one alone.

Grabbing a fistful of darts and taking them with me, I migrate over to an area packed with dummies, the majority of them either injured or speckled with crimson paint, probably the result of the boisterous Careers. Idiots, thinking that taking down a tribute is as easy as this. I smile, shaking my head and loading my blowgun slowly and surely with a dart.

I press a button on a raised platform, which automatically starts moving the dummies along from guided rails, side to side and front to back. One starts coming at me and I duck out of the way, rolling neatly with my blowgun tucked tightly to my torso. Once I'm out of its way, I exhale with all my breath into the spout of it, propelling the dart forward and just missing its shoulder.

Jumping to my feet, I reload, running from the oncoming dummy. Once that process is done, I whip around, exhale, propel the dart forward. This time, it makes contact with the collarbone- or at least, where a human's collarbone would be. Good, good.

The rest of my training session is spent fooling around with the blowgun and dummies, eventually bringing my dummy kill-count to two once I'm finished. A few Gamemakers nod at me as I walk into an elevator, but I don't reply in like. I feel like glaring at them for something, but I'm not sure what.

The insides of the District Six living quarters are a welcome sight. Gingham and Dalton greet me friendlily, each beaming. Surprising, especially for Gingham, who's a cynical monster most of the time.

"Hello," I say cautiously.

"Halcyon, how did it go?" Gingham's smile – now I know that it was forced – slides right off her face and she stares at me intensely. "How do you think you did? Was it hard? Easy? Tell me everything."

I shrug casually, dropping onto a plush armchair and relaxing. "You know what, Gingham? …I think I'll let my score speak for itself."

She looks suddenly outraged.

Kiera Brennan, District Eleven

Cole disappears with a cryptic smile and silent wave, and I'm left with the alliance from Twelve. They both stare at me with wide eyes and awed expressions.

"You screamed at the Reaping," the blond girl says conversationally.

"We noticed you in particular," the baby-faced guy says, an echo of her. His voice is soft, not raspy.

I fidget. "Well, thanks," I respond, a bit bashful. "It was a brisk thing… I didn't really notice it… but thanks, I suppose."

"Are you strong?" the boy asks.

I shrug. This feels like an interrogation, not a simple friendly conversation. "I suppose so."

"What are your strengths, then?" The girl raises an eyebrow quizzically. When my eyebrows lower in confusion, she quickly backs off, merely adding on, "I'm just curious, you know. Don't answer if you don't want to."

I hum for a moment, sizing them up. This might be my last chance to gain an alliance, and if it is, I better act quickly. Cole's been gone for a little under a minute, and if I only have a couple of those left, my words had best been chosen carefully. "No, I don't mind," I say, trying to keep my voice light. "I'm good at poisons. What about you?"

"We're pretty well-rounded," the boy declares proudly. "Haven can really pack a punch, but she's tough, too. I'm just along for the ride."

"Don't be so modest." The girl actually sounds annoyed. "You're great at throwing knives, don't deny it. We both are, actually, and we have our plant identification skills down pat. Plus, our mentor's been training us how to work the crowd, so even if we botch this thing, hopefully we can ace the interviews."

I feel suddenly unprepared for this conversation. I'm good at poisons, and that's basically it, while these guys have everything mastered. They're perfect. I'm not.

"That's great," I murmur, turning away. I can't ally with them. They're too good for me.

"We're not done with you yet!" The boy laughs, placing a hand on my shoulder to turn me around. I frown, facing him.

"Well, what more could you possibly need?"

"We've been talking all this time about another ally," he says, eyes glittering.

"And then we thought of you, how we'd have you all alone at this exact time," the blond girl adds onto his sentence. She offers a forced smile. "What about it, Kiera?"

I stammer words that make no sense for a bit before saying something intelligible. "What do you want me to say?"

"A yes would be nice," says the boy, grinning.

"Or say no." The girl scowls. "I'm just doing this for Kinton… it's all the same to me."

I slump down slightly, a pout playing on my thin lips and questions running through my head. Should I say yes? An alliance will be there to pick me up when I fall. But it could also be my downfall.

They could betray me. The only problem I have with proving that true, is that they both look younger than me, and they both have expressions of hope etched into their faces, even the scowling blond, who obviously tries to put up a tough front. She's failing, by the way.

I don't think they'd betray me.

But I'd only drag them down, wouldn't I?

The blond girl taps her foot impatiently, folding her arms and glaring. "If you could hurry with your reply, yeah, that would be great. You have basically a couple more minutes before you have to go, you know, and after that, I doubt we'll be seeing much of each other."

I have to make my choice, and fast. I nibble at my lip, silently praying that Cole asks for more training session time so I can have more time to decide, but at the same time, I know that he won't because he's so quiet all the time.

"Um…" I twirl a lock of thin red hair around my slender, long finger, peering from under my lashes at the hopeful duo. "Sure."

The girl lets out a breath. The boy can't seem to stop grinning. "Excellent," he manages to speak out. "Just excellent, we'll do great in the arena, Kiera!"

"By the way, I'm Haven," says the grouchy blond.

"And I'm Kinton." The dark-haired boy beams, his eyes blinking twice as fast with excitement. "Sorry for such the late notice, Kiera, but we needed the time-"

"Kiera Brennan?"

Looking bewilderedly at the speaker, I rise slowly from my chair. Now a new sort of panic is bubbling up in my stomach, like acid consuming me. It's like a spirit that has crawled down my throat wants to reemerge.

"Good luck out there, Kiera." Kinton smiles bravely. "Make us proud, alright?"

I don't say a word, simply stare about the otherwise empty room and then slip past the door into the humongous training gymnasium. Instead of being flocked with trainers, tributes, and Avoxes, it's quiet and still. Well, except for the stand that contains the Gamemakers; they're chattering about, feasting off of pretentious drinks and lavish foods that I can smell from here. They smell wonderful.

I slowly move over to the poison station and start mashing up some vervain root, pour some water into a beaker. But I can't fight back the bubbling sensation creeping up my throat.

And suddenly, a minute or so later, when I'm mixing some sickly-sweet smelling lotus into the mixture, my belly leaps, leaps, and suddenly my breakfast is on the ground in the form of acidic bile.

I convulse, hand over my mouth and knees pinned to the ground. The Gamemakers chatter in spooked tones, each pair of eyes trained on me. I stare at a man with yellow feathers for hair, his black eyes huge and amused.

Avoxes flock from different doors behind the stations and clean the mess up, draw me an elevator. One even escorts me up to my floor, as if I can't do it myself. I may be sick, but I'm not so sick that my ghosts can't be summoned to carry me up. Honestly.

And when Hudson's hopeful face pops at the edge of my vision, eagerly asking me, "How'd it go, Kiera? Do you think you got an okay score?", it's all I can do to not sob.

Kinton Machek, District Twelve

To say that I'm ecstatic is an understatement.

But I can smell the vomit in the air, see the stain on the bluish mat, no matter how many tries the Avoxes took to attempt to scrub it out. It's there, in a pale shadow. They can't disguise the fact that yes, some of the tributes get so worked up over this silly score that they hurl.

Was it Kiera? I shake my head slightly. She's too strong to puke over something as silly as this. But then again, she did seem very worked up over this…

Nah, it wasn't her.

I stride to a spot in front of the Gamemaker's elevated glass platform and offer a shy smile. "Hello," I say, hoping my voice carries. "My name is Kinton Machek, and I'm from District Twelve. Today I would like to show you my plant identification and throwing knife skills." I linger, stammering over something for a moment, before quickly finishing up with "Thank you for your time" and quickly darting over to the plant station.

It takes me just four minutes or so to identify every single plant, with only a couple mistakes. I sneak a glance at the Gamemakers, to find just three or four observing me, the rest tipping their heads back with drinks or food.

I migrate over to the throwing knife station and select five slim, silver knives. I hold them by their smooth brown handles, silently admiring the way the bright, fluorescent lights bounce off of them.

Shuffling over to the dummy area and pressing the button to make them move, I mentally prepare myself for knife throwing. One dummy zooms past me, and without thinking, I plunge the knife into its shoulder, past the hard tanned flesh and into the soft interior.

The next knife finds its home in the abdomen of a dummy who's not moving much, rather sitting and shaking a little. Not too impressive, hitting a sitting duck, but if it raises the dummy kill count, I'm all for it.

Two of the other knives miss by wide shots, and each time, I'm aware of the laughter that the Gamemakers produce, shimmering pearly whites and raucous sounds obvious. I grit my teeth, vowing to myself not to give up. I have limited time left. I have to make this knife-throw be the most brilliant yet.

And it hits a dummy, just not in the spectacular way I had planned - I scout out a dummy moving neither fast nor slow, just at a pace that a regular person would jog. The knife whistles out of my hand and, going handle over blade through the muggy air, it sticks and latches onto the side of the dummy.

The buzzer rings. I am done.

Bowing a bit to the Gamemakers and trotting to an elevator, I slump to the ground as it rises. There's no point in dwelling on my performance when Grey will be pestering me with queries all night.

And just as I predict, once I make my way into the expansive living room, there the short woman is, popping up with a suspicious look on her face and asking sarcastically, "Kinton, Kinton, how'd you do? Bringing glory and honor, huh?"

"Yeah," I say, dazzling her with a wide grin and throwing myself onto the cushy sofa. "You know, sat in a corner and tied a noose. It's all I can do, right?"

She considers me. "You're being snarky."

"You're right, you know." I offer another grin, this one a bit more sincere and genuine. "Nothing you can do about it, huh?"

"I never said I didn't like a little sarcasm," she comments, perching herself primly on the arm of a grey armchair. "I'm just making an observation."

"While you're observing…" I pause for dramatic effect, tipping my head downwards. "Haven and I may or may not have discovered ourselves a new ally."

"Really?" Grey pops up from her perch, face full of interest and, surprisingly, gratefulness. "Who is he? Or she? I'm not one to judge, after all, just spill!"

"Kiera Brennan," I reply. "and she-"

"Kiera Brennan?" repeats Grey, suddenly not full of the interest she had shown a mere moment ago. She slinks to the grey armchair and balls her little hands into fists. "From District Eleven? With the curly red hair?"

"Yeah, that's her." I nod hesitantly. "Why, Grey? What's wrong?"

"Kiera Brennan." Grey stares at the ground, one eye twitching. She glances up at me. "Why, of all people, did you pick her? There were great tributes this year. Braxton Malory. Cole Tenacity. Maya Verone. Shael Havern. Why, of everybody, did you pick her?"

I shrug, knitting my eyebrows. "Um, why not? Honestly, she's good at poisons and she's friendly, too."

Grey sighs, shaking her head and treating me like an idiot. Haven bursts in from the elevator, sweaty and flushed, but Grey doesn't even look at her. Instead, she speaks in a gravelly, solemn voice.

"Kinton, Kiera Brennan is the psychopath of District Eleven," she utters mournfully. "She conducts rituals and believes in ghosts and spirits. She kills animals for no apparent reason. She's unstable, and you just made an ally of her?"

Haven gasps softly, while my cheeks flare up.

"It's not my fault," I counter hotly. "You could have at least told us about her, told us to watch out for her. And how do you know so much about her, anyways?"

"For all we know, you could be lying," Haven pipes up.

"Everybody knows Kiera Brennan!" Grey shouts, hugging her knees. "Every mentor for four years now has been advised to look out for a certain list of unstable tributes, Kinton, and Kiera's at the top of the list!"

I don't believe this. I can't believe this. Instead, I stare at her dumbly, raise one finger up, and silently run to my bedroom.

Kiera? Of all people?

Ellika Mayes, District Three

"I still don't see why we have to be gathered here, like a family."

I sit, folding my arms over each other and glare at Candor and Xandra. The two exchange an exasperated look and I sort of feel bad for being rude, but I can't help it. It's in my blood.

"We are your family," Xandra says, trying to soothe me. "For now until the arena, at least. You should be grateful that tomorrow is yet another day in the luxury of the Capitol."

"My last day," I grumble, staring at the ground. "And it's just more happy fun time with my stylist and prep team, getting plucked and shaved and slathered all over again. And then I'm supposed to be popped into a dress, hair curled, and thrown out into the spotlight yet again to see our lovely interviewer."

"Hey, don't speak so negatively." Griff pops in, munching on some crackers.

"What do you know, kid? You're like five."

"I know a lot more than you," he counters, raising his eyebrows teasingly. "No, I'm kidding, you are definitely more intelligent than me… but all I'm saying is that at least I'm trying to be happy here, while you… well…" he fades off, waving bluntly at me.

"When did you grow a spine?" I hiss, slumping back into the stiff sofa cushions.

Candor shushes us all, excitedly pointing to the screen. The brand new interviewer, Tess Adrique, sits primly on a rose red stool, dazzling in a short, ruffled, dark plum dress that contrasts her nearly white hair. She smiles uneasily, her small lips perking upwards.

"This year they thought it would be fun to bring in a younger interviewer to carry on Cambria's family name," Candor says in a knowing manner that slightly irks me. "She's only twenty. Look at those chubby cheeks!"

"No signs of plastic surgery on her yet," Xandra observes snootily, leaning towards the screen. Her dark hair falls against her shoulders. "Maybe her nose, though. Too perky for a regular person."

"Welcome," Tess announces in a rich accent, the vowels flowing and the word seeming like a perfectly scripted speech. I exhale, slightly impressed by the Capitol's choice in faculty. Maybe this year we won't get somebody who chuckles manically every four seconds and slaps the tributes on the backs so hard that it leaves a red mark.

"Teal Arben, victor of District One and the latest victor, has joined me to read off the scores," continues Tess, motioning to the lanky boy beside her. That's all he is, really. He can't be too much older than me. "Shall we begin, then?"

She shuffles some papers, and Teal smirks at the camera. On the screen behind her, a picture of a brunette Career with piercing eyes pops up. "District One, Carisa Lenette, with an eight." Tess smiles slightly as Teal nods approvingly. The girl's picture swaps out for a critical-looking one of a pale boy with a long face. "District One, Soren Valen, with a seven."

Teal lets out an earsplitting shriek, obviously relishing in the fact that Tess barks in surprise and clutches her chest, as if her heart's going to plop into her hand at any moment.

"Nice man," I comment.

"Nice tributes," Xandra corrects me. "Carisa and Soren, they're both huge threats. Look out for them, okay?"

"They're Careers, of course I will," I snap back. I'm really not in the mood to be bothered. I botched my training session, trying to conduct a huge electrical fire but ultimately creating a tangle of wires and clips. At the end, I tried to cover it up by throwing a match on the thing, which then sparked a fire, but I could tell that the Gamemakers were not impressed.

"District Two," Tess wheezes, a hand blindly scratching at the left side of her chest, "Eidra N-Nevett, ringing in with a ten."

"Yikes," Griff hisses from his spot next to me. "Ten more and she'd be a twenty… and twenties aren't good, they never are."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the screen. The picture of the beaming brunette girl fades into a dark-haired, pale boy with a nervous smile.

"District Two, Wraith Elvery… with an eight." Tess looks up from the papers, the skin under her eyes visibly purple with tiredness. "An impressive score all around for District Two. Congratulations to Eidra and Wraith."

"As if," snorts Griff.

"Would you shut up?" I growl at him. "I'm trying to listen, not get interrupted by a preteen."

"I'm fourteen, thanks for the underestimation," he sniffs.

I stare at Candor. "Did you teach him new words or what?!"

"There was a gigantic dictionary in the bookshelf over there, he taught me nothing," Griff says, rather happy with himself. "Now hush, you're on."

"District Three, Ellika – um, rather, Ell – Mayes." My picture pops up, red hair vivid and scowl overpowering. I'm proud of that picture. It shows that I'm not afraid to fight, to get my hands dirty. "A score of a three."

I stare at the screen, not sinking into the cushions or frowning just a bit. I glare at the screen, silently hating it and the people behind it. I'm worth more than a three. I'm better than a three.

"Good job, Ell," Xandra says softly from her spot on the ground. She looks up at me with a questioning look, before offering a soft smile.

I barely notice her, instead gazing at the screen as my picture fades into Griff's. He squeals in delight from next to me, taking in his chestnut brown hair and sunny grin, allowing everybody to know what an optimistic nut-job he is.

"District Three, Griff Forden, with a matching three!" Tess reads off, nodding her head to the camera. "And yeah, that rounds up District Three- District Three, with threes for scores, isn't that ironic?"

"I got a … three?"

"I got a three."

Though our words are the same, the meanings are different. And we both know that they go deeper than simple scores.

Braxton Malory, District Nine

"Well, this is fun," Maysa remarks dryly, hugging her knees. "Two kids, easy bloodbaths. And from a weak district, too."

"People could say that Nine is weak," I counter her with a winsome smile. "But no, we're fighters till the end, and nobody can deny us that, can they?"

"Be quiet," grumps Maysa as little Griff's picture fades into that of the mature, freckled Juno Verdet, a playful smile toying on her lips.

The pale interviewing woman, visibly faltering under the pressure, stammers out, "District Four, Juno Verdet, w-with a ten!"

"Threat!" yelps Olivander, thus shocking the both of us and making us jump out of our seats. We shouldn't be doing it, really, not when he's been doing that four times already. I should've known he would have started up at the Career districts again.

"Would you stop that?" Roland growls. "You're scaring them, Olivander."

"D-Dear Rolly-boy, are y-y-you upset?" Olivander buzzes, frenzied eyes locking feverishly with Roland's and quickly averting to the screen. "If it troubles you that m-m-much, I'll stop, yes I will!"

"Thank you," I remark, watching as Juno's picture turns into Merritt's, the blond boy's dashing brown eyes and grim smile popping up instantly.

"District Four, Merritt Cordeau, with a matching ten! Looks like District-"

"THREAT!" Olivander screams.

"WOULD YOU STOP THAT?!" roars Roland, rising from his seat, only to face a sheepishly giggling Olivander, skin yellow and hands shaking. Maysa and I watch in silent pity and fear as Roland grips Olivander's wrists, murmuring some choice words to the fellow. It's obvious that Olivander's currently unstable. Only Roland holds the power to soothe him.

"District Five, Maya Verone!" I whip my stare back to the screen and watch the picture of the beaming brunette appear, one eyebrow raised teasingly. "A seven!"

"THREAT," shrieks Olivander, not deterred by Roland's pleading. I bite my lip, silently praying that he won't suddenly flip moods and become dark and lethal, like he did just an hour ago. It was spooky to watch- storming around with forks in his trembling hands, hissing threats to Maysa and me both.

"Just ignore him," Maysa tells me, her peevish mood suddenly dulled by Olivander's freakiness. Her eyes are wide and brown, and she points to the screen. "Come on. If he's not going to watch, we can."

"Definitely," I say, smiling as the picture of towering Ezra Jefferson appears, a sheepish, gaunt look on his long face.

"District Five, Ezra Jefferson, with a five!" Tess announces, grinning shakily. "A nice round of scores for the both of them, eh?"

Maysa and I both glance over at Olivander, but he only offers us a scary grin as his entire body practically vibrates with energy and his hands cling to Roland's shoulders.

"District Six, Aria Verselis!" On the screen, a pale girl with shimmering black hair and a shy expression. I noticed her at the poison station once or twice, but never really thought to invite her over to my alliance. I guess I was too caught up in making it the trio of younger guys that I forgot to seduce her with my charms. "…With a five to match Ezra's!"

"TH-" Maysa's mentor starts to burst out, but is muffled by Roland sacrificing his own hand by stuffing it inside of Olivander's mouth and getting rewarded by a ferocious chomp. I wince, curling my fingers into fists.

"District Six, Halcyon Chae!" A pale blond boy with equally pale skin appears, offering a sarcastic smile. "A four!"

I grit my teeth as the next few districts appear.

"District Seven, Aspen Northwood!" A plump, dark-haired girl with a shy frown. "A two!"

"District Seven, Brux Redragon!" A guy with sandy hair, offering a cocky grin and an eyebrow lift, like Maya. I remember that he'd joined the Careers. "An eight!"

"TH-" This time, I try my best to ignore our frenzied mentor and instead, stare listlessly as District Eight rolls on, revealing Cayley Torrelli in all of her dark-haired, tanned skin glory. She receives a four.

"District Eight, Tethys Acosta, ringing in with a six!" The devilishly smirking boy with a round head leers at me.

And then it's Maysa's picture up there, her deep scowl leaving an imprint on me and her uneasy frown identical to the one she displays now. But I can tell that she's deeply interested and cares about her score. I tell by the way she leans forwards slightly, fingers laced together. And when Tess Adrique blesses her with a five, she lets a shrill laugh go and falls back into the cushions.

I congratulate her heartily, watching as my picture appears, showing me in my fetching glory. My heart thuds, but it barely registers as Tess announces "… ringing in with a five!"

"Congratulations, Braxton," Maysa murmurs, but it's not enough. I want Roland to clap me on the back, beaming. I want Cade and Griff to surround me, regarding me with awe.

It's not enough. It will never be enough.

And all too soon, I'm gone, and there's Shael Havern with her sleek brown hair and wide eyes, grabbing a six for herself to match her ally, Tethys.

The extroverted Cade, with his alert eyes and hand creeping into the picture to wave, coins a meager three for himself, identical to Griff's. Not too bad, and I'm still the leader of the pack. I'm pleased, and silently nod.

Kiera Brennan, with her curly red hair and overly widened eyes, grabs a two.

Cole Tenacity, with a sphinxlike smile and slightly mocking look, is awarded a six for himself, thus bringing honor to his district, where Kiera will have brought distaste.

The neutralized, blond-haired Haven Faye, with pouty lips in her picture, receives a five. Her ally and district partner, Kinton Machek, with his baby face and sloppy hairdo, also matches it with his five.

It's over, then. We all part our separate ways, and Olivander is sedated with a quick injection. But it won't stop me from having a nightmare about him, from tossing and turning in my bed about it.

It won't stop me.

A/N: The Way I Am by Eminem.

Happy holidays, everybody! Yet another chapter of Contrary shall arrive to you on this fine night, yay. Hopefully you find yourself leaving a review to both motivate me and let others know what you're thinking? ;)

Hopefully I can shoot out an update before Christmas, so be on the lookout? Next update will be the interviews, so that's a bonus for sure!

The blog will soon be updated with training scores, alliances, quotes, and tokens, so that's something to watch out for as well. :)

Alliances: Careers, Maya+Maya+Ezra, Braxton+Cade+Griff, Tethys+Shael, Haven+Kinton+Kiera, Halcyon+Soren, Aria+Cayley

Loners: Ellika, Aspen, Cole

Question Time? You know it!

1. Thoughts on each of these POV's?

2. Favorite parts of the chapter?

3. General thoughts on the training scores?

4. Did anybody surprise you?

5. And the chart, of course!