Good news! We're almost to the Games! Just this chapter, then the next one is the interviews, then they're in the arena! No matter how bad this chapter is, please, please keep reading! I swear, I have a huge explosion plot twist that is going to blow your mind! It is amazing! You will love it! Please, stick with me, because it's hard to write the boring parts... One more thing. You guys are in trouble... Dun dun dun! If this story does not get at least two more reviews, I am going to start suspending chapters until a certain number of reviews is reached. I really hate to do this, but... come on! One story I read had eighty reviews by chapter 3! And this is chapter 7! Well, chapter 6 since the last one was an author's note, but... Whatever. And just another annoucement... guess what? I'm doing a contest! You can be a very character in the story! If you want to be in it, leave a review saying so, along with your name and preferred region. It can be any region but the Careers (1, 2, and 3, plus the guy from 12). So basically, regions 4-11, or the girl from 12. And that character will have a very important role... not sharing anything, haha! And now for the chapter! Here it is :)

That night, I toss and turn in my bed. I know I must get sleep, but the interviews are tomorrow, and I am yet again anxious at the thought. I've never really liked being around others, and any time I open my mouth, I act sullen and antagonistic. Despite this, I know I must sleep. Not doing so will only harm whatever chance I have. But it is impossible. After a while spent just lying there, wide awake, I finally get up and leave my room. Maybe a bit of air will clear my head.

The light is eerily dim, creating a shadowy mood. As I walk out into the main area, I see no one but Travis and our trainer, Katniss, talking quietly in a corner. I try to make out their words, but I can't. The secrecy makes me uncomfortable, so I move on to a small sitting room with two chairs and a screen. It's where we watch our interview recaps and find out our scores. And then it hits me. Tomorrow, I will find out my score. I will know whether I will have a chance at survival, if I was deemed talented by the Gamemakers, or if I will die in the arena. The scores show whether a tribute is worthy of sponsoring, and if I get a low score, I will never get a single sponsor. Within a few hours, my fate will be sealed. And then I still have to go to my interview later in the evening.

I spend the rest of the night here, sitting on the plush white chair, not relaxing, but lost in thought. About everything. The Games, the training, the interviews, the tributes. I don't think I'll ever get sleep.

It's Vienna who comes and finds me here. She squeals, "Cladia! Oh, it's so good I found you! You really must-" She breaks off abruptly as she finally spots my weary frame and the dark shadows under my eyes. "You poor thing! We simply have to fix this!" she says with a fake-pout. I roll my eyes behind her back.

She and my prep team, which is comprised of three Capitol citizens, immediately start on me. Pelinia, a plump woman with pink hair and jewels implanted below her eyes, soaks my hair in a rotten-smelling cream, then begins to curl and style it at a furious speed. Luvius, a very tall man with spiky turquoise hair and wider-than-normal orange eyes, forces me into some concoction that burns my skin, but I'm sure he means to beautify it in a strange way. And Nila, who would be an average-looking woman if it wasn't for her lilac-colored skin, sorts through makeup palettes and grins at an entirely pink combination. This makes me cringe. I loathe dressing up in this way. Not a single bit of makeup or jewelry. Never in my life.

And apparently this isn't even for the interviews.

They seem to think I must look wonderful just to view my terrible score, and to go to breakfast. I really don't care what I look like, but they seem to. And before I know it, I am dressed in a simple blue dress that sways when I walk. Not as terrible, knowing these are Capitol stylists. My hair falls in shimmering auburn ringlets to my elbows, and my face is clean and it seems to shine. I guess it could be worse.

The breakfast table is already full when I arrive. I am too nervous to eat, so I take only a small roll and an apple. Travis, Katniss, Vienna, and Victor, Travis's stylist, have full plates. I do learn something about the other stylist, not that I really tried to find out. Apparently, Vienna and Victor are twins, and he is just as annoyingly enthusiastic as she is. Now there are two. Wonderful. Katniss looks at me quizzically, asking silently about my morning makeover. I sigh heavily and roll my eyes in Vienna's direction. She seems to understand, because she nods and shares a sympathetic grimace.

Breakfast is unusually quiet. Of course, I don't talk, but then Travis is sitting and picking at a piece of melon nervously, Katniss is holding a fork rather warily and stares at the both of us, and the stylists chat loudly, but quickly stop when they notice the apprehensive mood. I don't mind the silence, but the uneasy feeling hangs in the air, thick as molasses. It makes me squirm.

After a while, everyone finishes up, and I run off to my room for some peace and quiet. But that's never possible in the Hunger Games.

So I end up thinking about training. How did I do? Horribly. Might as well not even know my score, because it will be more like a three. I don't belong in the Careers. They'll kill me the first chance they get.

Only one way to find out.

Before I know it, someone raps on my door, and I sit up with a start. No one enters, but it's clear what that means. I must find out my training score, that the Gamemakers have given me. Worry and fear shoot through the roof.

Katniss, Travis, the stylists, and I all end up in the sitting room, watching the television hung on the wall, where they're just introducing the training scores. The boy from One flashes up… and gets a ten, which is no surprise, considering his enormous strength. Then the girl from one, who gets an eight. Travis's image is projected on the screen. I feel myself tense up, partially because I know I am next, the rest… is too complicated to figure out. And he gets a five. Five? I'm not surprised, but still, it is awfully low. Is it even correct?

I glance over to Travis, whose face is stone, emotionless, hard. What does he make of this? I can't tell.

My image is soon shown. Eyes narrowed, chin up. I look deadly, but I am not. Only my score will tell, and soon, it is known to everyone watching, that I have accomplished something…