We lined up in the small, cramped room, waiting to go in and perform in front of the Gamemakers. I wasn't nervous at all: they had seen me perform spectacularly in the three days of training, and besides, who could resist giving all this a great score?
Marvel was called in first. I wished him luck apathetically, not particularly caring whether he messed up or not. In return, he told me that he knew I would do great, to just believe in myself, blah blah blah. I nearly burst out laughing, amused that he still thought I was a wimpy little baby who couldn't take care of herself.
"Nervous?" Cato — who was sitting next to me again — asked me.
I rolled my eyes. "As if."
"Oh, cocky already?" he grinned.
"Says the cockiest guy I've ever met," I laughed, elbowing him in the side.
He put his hand over his ribs, feigning injury. "Hey, no fighting another tribute before the games!"
"Oh, you gonna tell on me?" I asked, leaning over and punching his arm repeatedly.
"Ah, no, somebody help! She's vicious!" Cato yelled, pretending to cower in fear.
We were both still cracking up when a deep voice rang out. "Glimmer Alvarest. Proceed to the evaluation room."
Taking a deep breath, I cracked my knuckles and headed into the evaluation room. "Good luck," Cato called after me. I turned and grinned at him, surprised that my smile was actually genuine.
My footsteps echoed into the silence as I stepped into the Training Room. All of the Gamemakers were there, looking focused and intent. One of the perks of being from District One was that Gamemakers always paid attention to you since you were first. I walked over to the knives, gave myself a moment to take a deep breath, then jumped into action.
First, I hurled two knives at the ceiling and watched as they went one after another into cracks between the panels. Then I whirled around the room, flipping over dummies and cutting their heads off, rolling between their legs and stabbing them square in the back. Going into a series of back-flips, I tossed a knife perfectly into a dummy's heart while I was in the air each time. Then, for my last move, I sprinted as fast as I could at a wall, crossing the gym in a matter of seconds, and ran up it, backflippng off of it and landing on a dummy's shoulders. Triumphantly, I drove my last knife through the top of the dummy's head and jumped back onto the ground gracefully, then looked at the Gamemakers for their reactions. They were nodding, clearly impressed. "You may go now," the Head Gamemaker told me warmly. I nodded, tossed my hair, and strutted out of the room, giving them a stunning over-the-shoulder smile on my way out.
I grinned the entire way up to my floor. My performance back there would definitely get me in the 8-10 scoring range. Most tributes (other than Careers) were lucky to get a five. I smirked at the thought of Blueberry, the District 12 tribute, helplessly watching as her embarrassingly low score flashed across the television screen for the world to see. This would give her a reality check, make her realize that she would need more than a mildly attractive face and a good stylist to get through the Games.
A burst of noise greeted me as I entered the dining room, where everyone was about to start dinner. "How'd it go?" Gloss asked, leaning forward animatedly. I started to rave about how perfect it had been and how every single knife had landed spot-on, but then thought better of it. Marvel still thought I was a weak little girl who had gotten by on her looks, and I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could.
"Well, I just did what I had worked on during the practice days, and I think they liked me," I said, widening my eyes and giving a dopey smile to further enhance the innocent schoolgirl effect. Marvel gave me a sympathetic-yet-encouraging smile before digging into the food that an Avox had served. Cashmere and Gloss both raised their eyebrows, but quickly realized what I was doing and dropped the subject immediately.
As dinner went on, the talk turned to Gloss and Cashmere's experiences in the Games. "I remember my Hunger Games!" Gloss reminisced enthusiastically, gulping down a soda. He had told us that Cashmere and he remained completely sober throughout the duration of the Games, so they could focus wholly on helping their tributes. "I got a training score of ten. Highest in the games. My knife work must have really impressed the judges."
Interesting, I thought, pondering the fact that Gloss and I had the same skill. The connection made me trust him even more. With a start, I remembered watching his Hunger Games on television, and realized that he couldn't be much older than I was.
Cashmere was also recalling her own Hunger Games experience. "After my brother won, I wanted to follow in his footsteps, so I volunteered the very next year. I remember winning and how happy and pampered I was for the next few months." Cashmere smiled, her eyes glassy and far away. "At least until..." Her smile faltered, and she quickly went back to eating her soup. Suddenly, I vividly recalled hearing that the more attractive Hunger Games victors are used as prostitutes after they win. For a moment, I was filled with alarm It doesn't matter, I told myself, quickly brightening up again. I can take care of myself. Nothing like that will happen to me.
I was jolted out of my train of thought by Gloss suggesting that we shower and change before the scores were announced in about an hour. Quickly finishing my dinner, I headed back to my room to do so. I took an extra long time in the shower, enjoying playing with the buttons that controlled the different scents, temperatures, oils, soaps, and shampoos. Once I won the Games and took up residency in the Capitol, I could do this every day.
After showering, I changed into skimpy silk shorts, a low-cut tank top, and my ring with the concealed spike. I no longer went anywhere with out it — it was my connection to both my past (District One), my present (the Hunger Games), and my future (the Capitol). I put my hair into my trademark pigtails.
Marvel and I happened to exit both of our rooms at the exact same time, although I had a lingering feeling that he had been watching through his peephole, waiting for me to come out. "You look nice," he shyly complimented me, his eyes canvassing my body. "I know you'll do great tonight."
It took all of my strength not to snicker at his puppy-dog expression. As if a scrawny nobody like Marvel would ever have a shot with someone like me. "Thank you, Marvel." I batted my eyelashes at him. "That's so sweet of you to say."
We walked into the sitting room, where Cashmere and Gloss were waiting for us. "Hey, why don't we invite the District 2 tributes to come watch the score announcements with us?"
Gloss nodded approvingly. "Great idea. That way, your whole team can figure out who will be the easy targets and who you'll have to watch out for, together."
"Plus it'll mean more bonding time for you and Cato," Marvel muttered under his breath. I glared at him; I didn't want my mentors thinking that I was becoming unfocused and going after a boy. Didn't Marvel know that Cato's flirtations with me were purely for the audience?
The District 2 tributes accepted the invitation, and soon everyone was gathered around our television. No one mentioned inviting the District 4 tributes; although no one said it out loud, it was practically common knowledge that we would kill them off first. They were just little add-ons to make our group bigger.
The national anthem played, and then the first score was shown. It was Marvel's; he received an 8. A murmur of congratulations echoed around the room, and before I even had time to hope, my score flashed on the screen. It was a 9.
"Great job," Gloss nodded approvingly while Cashmere flashed me a beautiful smile that had probably gotten her tons of sponsors in her day. Cato, perched in his usual spot by my side, gave me a one-armed hug and a big smile. "I guess I'm not the only one who deserves to be cocky here," he quipped, referring to our playful banter earlier. Although I smiled at him, I was a bit confused. There were no cameras here, no other tributes, no audience to watch us. What was the point of his affection towards me, if not for the crowd? I saw Gloss watching us, eyebrows raised. When our eyes met, he gave me a look that said "We'll discuss that later." Marvel, meanwhile, was looking at me with shock and anger. Clearly, my helpless-pitiful-baby ruse was up.
The scores continued. Cato, of course, got a ten. I congratulated him warmly, patting him on the thigh. I figured that even though I didn't know what his angle was for the flirting thing, I might as well go along with it in case he had some master plan or something. Clove, meanwhile, got a nine. "I guess you and me are evenly matched," she chirped, smiling sweetly back. I smiled back with equal exaggerated sweetness. This was nothing new: I had had plenty of frenemies before. I'd just never had to kill one, but oh well. You gotta do what you gotta do.
Not many other tributes got a score worth commenting on. Thresh, however, got a ten, the first one since Cato. Marvel whistled. "We'll have to keep an eye out for him," I muttered.
Finally, Blueberry was the only one left. I leaned forward in anticipation as her picture and score popped up. At first, I thought my eyes were seeing double. Surely she had only gotten a one, and I was just seeing two of them? But no, everyone else's reactions made it clear that there really was an 11 on the screen.
I jumped off of the couch, screaming in fury. Everyone looked up, alarmed. "Hey, Glimmer, it's okay," Cato started to say. Although his voice usually had a calming effect on me (though I couldn't explain why), right now it just irritated me more. I stalked off to the dining room, knocking over a table on the way out.
How could she get a higher score than me? What did everyone see in that little street rat from District 12 that made her so wonderful? I ran my hands through my hair, angry tears pouring down my cheeks.
Gloss followed me into the dining room. "Hey. Never let any other tributes see you lose control again," he told me harshly, a firm hand on my shoulder. I nodded, wiping the tears from my face and pinching my palms to make myself focus. "Good. Now, I'm not going to lie, that girl is going to be a real threat," he said, his voice low. "Do you have any idea what she could have done to get a score that high?"
"It has to be the bow and arrow," I muttered, my teeth clenched. "She hid her talent during the training days, but I could see her just itching to get her hands on them."
He put one hand on each of my shoulders, looking me deep in the eyes. "Alright. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to outshine her in interviews tomorrow night, and then, if there is a bow and arrow in the arena, you're going to get to it. I don't care what or who you have to sacrifice. Do not let her get to the weapon that gave her a score of 11, do you understand?"
I nodded. Oh, I understood alright. Blueberry had just made an official enemy. And in the arena, I was going to kill her with her own favorite weapon.