Disclaimer: I don't own any of the crap with copyrights.

"Love your enemies just in case your friends turn out to be bastards."

~Unknown~

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District 4: Fawn Nolan

Angelina Devon is stupid.

From the first second she opened that huge mouth of hers, I knew that.

Aside from just assuming she would be in charge of the alliance, she gave everyone the most ridiculous jobs ever. Scout, though he is clearly mentally unstable, would have been a help to me. He's smart, scrawny for a District 1 guy, but still clever. He looks like he knows how to analyze people and the only way I would know that for sure is if he went tribute-searching with me. And Cameron isn't observant at all—he's too easygoing. Not sharp enough to notice the little quirks about people.

"Look over there!" I tell him, pointing to the tiny group of misfits talking by the berry station.

Cameron eyes fall on the two twelve year-olds—and the guy approaching them. "I wonder what's going on there."

See? What sort of person doesn't recognize the formation of an alliance when they see it? Beech, the guy from District 7, has been pacing back and forth all over the training gym, clearly debating over whether or not he should go over to them.

I know why, too.

He has a younger sister, which I learned from the recap on the train, so it's no big surprise that he wants to work with the two weakest tributes here.

And Wendy... well, she clicked with Bengal and if he wanted to ally with Beech, then surely she'd agree.

"They're obviously allies, Cameron."

He stares at them for awhile, and then he finally agrees with me. "Sure. I can see that."

"Good." I mutter.

I observe them for a few minutes longer before I finally decide to look for my biggest competition—other than the people I'm working with. There's Sukara Ravo, who has a terrible temper, maybe even worse than Angelina, and refuses any help from the trainer, who keeps trying to show her the correct way to hold a spear. And Brandon Kindle, who is now following Drizzle around like a lost puppy. Not a big issue, but that info might come in handy later on.

Note to self: Brandon + Drizzle = Stupidity.

"Come on," I tap my district partner on the shoulder. "Time to go."

Cameron looks up at me, nods, and then stands up.

We head over to the plant identification station, because, usually, the smart tributes hang out there. Smart tributes are notoriously useful for remembering the stuff stupid people—like Angelina—normally forget. Like which plants are safe to consume and which ones will kill you upon contact. I figure someone like that would be useful—even if our "All-knowing Leader" doesn't think so.

The District 5 tribute immediately calls attention to herself.

It's not because she is loud or obnoxious or arrogant. In fact, she is nearly the exact opposite. Quiet, but wild-looking. She obviously doesn't give a damn about her appearance, as she didn't bother to use the fancy hair-styling station built in every single bedroom on every single floor. (It's impossible to not see one, because several of those gadgets line the walls outside of the training center bathrooms.) Though what she lacks in style, she makes up for in brains. The five girl has marked every single answer on her poisonous foliage quiz correctly.

"Fawn!" Cameron says, punching me on the arm. "She's staring at us."

"Hmm... who?" I blink, lifting my eyes from the girl's paper.

"The giant clown with the purple balloons."

At first, I think he means the instructor—a man-lady with yellow hair, giant boobs, and a mustache—but it soon becomes clear that he's being sarcastic. Cameron's talking about the girl with the crazy hair.

I roll my eyes. "You're scared of..." I trail off.

She is staring at me—and it's kind of creepy. It's unsettling to make eye contact with her, so I look away quickly.

"Who are you?" Cam asks.

She responds carefully, almost defensively. "Autumn."

I know I can't stay here with her watching me like that, so I back away from Autumn, making another mental note.

Autumn: Good with plants. Might possibly be mentally unbalanced. Remember her.

District 9: Fern Gresham

I wish I could draw better.

Every single sketch I make is either lopsided or unrealistic or both—mostly both.

I'm more of a writer. Words are easier to use, at least when they're written down. I'm hopelessly awkward when it comes to actually talking. Which tends to involve other people and emotions and vulnerability, which isn't good.

Not good at all, I think, erasing a crudely made picture of my mother. Nothing is ever good.

She always said she loved my drawings, that they should be displayed in President Snow's mansion. I flip back to my earlier journal entries, where my mother had taken it upon herself to write the titles of my "masterpieces" in neat letters at the top of the page. The date scribbled just above my artwork, I smile for a second, remembering what my mom told me every time she looked in my journal.

Never give up Fern. Follow your dreams.

She was sappy like that, not to mention completely and totally wrong.

Some dreams just aren't worth following.

Sighing, I shut the book. Something tells me that Katrina, my bossy mentor, won't be too happy if I come back still as useless as I was when left her in the dining room.

I don't know how I end up walking over to the knife throwing station... but I know it's a mistake the second I see a curved dagger lying on the floor, right next to a dismembered dummy. It's covered in blood, too. Well, fake blood, though it looks so realistic. It even smells like copper, just like real blood does. I back away, and I run into a wall. And crap... it's covered in various sharp pieces of metal... knives... and even the pegs they sit on seem sharp. I don't like the way my stomach twists at the mere sight of them.

I manage to escape having a mini-heart attack and walk over to where some of the other tributes stand, talking in the middle of the station.

Actually, there are only two other people in the area.

The District 1 girl and the District 7 girl. I think their names both begin with an A or something.

One of them says something—probably mean in nature, but I can't really hear—and the other nods, then the first girl laughs.

I flinch. Something about their laughter seems... wrong.

The District 1 girl's eyes flicker over to me, and the six girl's gaze follows.

I freeze under their watchful staring.

More laughter, and though I can't be sure I heard correctly, I think I hear them say the word "target."

District 12: Brandon Carl Kindle

I honestly don't know why Drizzle is being so... rude.

I mean, I haven't done anything to her... at least I don't think I did. She can't be mad about when I talked to her on the elevator, can she? I only complimented her on her gymnastics skills... I didn't say anything offensive, did I? I couldn't have... I've gone over our conversation in my head at least a thousand times. I had clearly been nice. Amiable. And just now... I'm only trying to help her out.

"The knot tying station is open." I say as kindly as I can manage.

She grumbles a word that sounds like duck-bed under her breath. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"You're not welcome."

She gives me a look, and it's one that could melt the flesh off of a muttation. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

"That's probably for the best." I admit.

I follow her over to the teacher, who is a purple-eyed man with gray hair. I wonder why he only decided to alter his eyes and not the rest of his face.

He starts talking right away. Something about how to make a proper noose, but Drizzle isn't listening, her eyes keep drifting over to her twin brother. I notice that the District 2 girl hasn't left his side. She looks jealous... which is actually a little annoying, but I choose to ignore it. Maybe I'll be able to take her mind off of it.

"Look at this!" I hold up a lopsided-looking circle-thing, my example of this guy's explanation of a noose.

She doesn't even look my way.

"Are you jealous or something?" I ask, slightly irritated.

"What?" she snaps, glaring at me for the tenth time today. "Hell no!"

She doesn't even try to sound like she means it. Her cheeks turn a bright red color, though she still maintains a look of pure anger on her face. It would have been attractive if her rage hadn't been directed at me. Drizzle has shown me the first inkling of vulnerability she has expressed in awhile and it's sort of good in a way, or at least I think so. But now she's yelling at me... not good.

"What the hell do you mean by that anyway?" Drizzle demands.

"Um... just that you look upset."

Her next response surprises me. "I don't want him to do anything..." she pauses, "stupid." She sounds a little sincere.

I smile—just a little bit.

A buzzing noise comes over the loudspeaker, cutting off my next response.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen. Training is over for today."

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The next day passes without consequence. Drizzle doesn't mention our "moment" and neither do I.

I try not to let it bother me too much.

Private Session Scores:

Angelina: 7

Scout: 10

Mercy: 9

Adrian: 8

Sukara: 6

Clint: 4

Fawn: 9

Cameron: 8

Ransom: 7

Autumn: 8

Wendy: 3

Fallon: 5

Almandine: 10

Beech: 5

Drizzle: 6

Skylark: 7

Fern: 4

Rowena: 5

Lily: 5

Brandon: 4

Okay... the arena has been decided. It's going to be a haunted woods/house filled with creepiness and whatnot. Remember, please vote in the poll. I only got one vote so far... and sorry this is shorter than I first planned. Exams and my friend decided to be difficult this week.