I sit on a bench outside of the training center. The game makers are waiting in their little podium. So loud I can hear their muffled voices. The situation seems so dramatic. What will my score possibly be? I've been dying to throw proper knives. Not silver kitchen knives. But I don't think I'm that good.
I wonder what Fabian would get. He sits next to me, not showing the slightest look of fear. His posture is lazy and he leans back in his chair. How can he be so calm? He must know what he's doing.
I haven't seen him much of him at the training. I've been to busy noting everything important when in the arena. I know he went to the spear station. But my back was turned on him; I was in the camouflage station. Making a bright red rucksack muddy enough look like a dirty rock, successfully.
As male tribute he goes 1st. The voice calls out his name. The voice of doom. His head jerks and he rises. He doesn't look at me, but I watch him go. I almost say good luck but swallow. Our relationship is complicated enough. The door shuts with a mechanical clank. The silence is terrifying. My legs rub against the fabric for a comfortable sound. I begin muttering under my breath. Miming throwing a knife, practicing my stance. When a thought struck me. What if the majority of tributes had more than one thing to show? What if I just throw knives, but there are with tributes with ten more impressive abilities? I start pondering on whether or not to do more. No, I should only show my strongest skill. When my name is called, I gasp and swallow. My stomach is churning violently and my legs feel numb. But somehow I rise and walk through the doors. Leaving all my doubt behind.
I enter the huge hall. It seems so peaceful now that there are no tributes practicing tactics to savagely kill each other. The Gamemakers aren't noticing me. They're chatting excitedly. I swallow. Maybe Fabian has got them chatting. Maybe Fabians skill was unforgettable.
I shake my head. No more Fabian. It's just me, and the knives.
I walk up to the wall decorated with weapons. I collect a handful of knives and savor how more comfortable they are then butter knives. I face the dummy in the center, a few more spaced out around it, filling out half of the hall. The first dummy is only a few feet away, I could strike it with my knives closed, but they space out and get further and further away. If I want to impress, I need to strike the one at the end, at least 50 feet away from me, directly over the heart.
I look up and still clutch my 5 knives in one hand. The gamemakers are still chatting. I cough but they take no notice. I get frustrated and clutch my knives for confidence "AHEM" I say loudly, surprising them. They look at me with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. As if I just transformed into a mutt.
"Viola Emberlee. District 6" My voice wobbles, but they must be used to it, because they intend to hurry me up.
"Yes, yes. Go on" The man at the front urges. He must be the head gamemaker. He gestures for me to do whatever I have to do. I relax my posture and keep my feet apart. My first knife in my throwing hand, my others in my left. I close my eyes and exhale and imagine all the fear, all the nausea escaping with that breath. My eyes snap open, and with a swift flick of my wrist, I fling the knife. I can hear it slicing the air until it buries itself in the dummy's chest.
Not the heart. But pretty darn close.
I don't stop there. I fling my next knife a second later, and with lightning speed, it lodges in the second dummies neck. To the gamemakers, the knives and me must seem like a blur. I lodge each knife in every dummy, not missing any beats, not missing any dummies. All strike means death. Neck and heart. I hear the lady gamemakers gasps and squeals as the knives lodge in the dummies. As if they can empathies the dummies imaginary pain. When I come to my last dummy, the one at the end. I hesitate slightly; it's a very far distant. If I miss this, it will ruin everything. But my confidence overwhelmed me and the knife whizzes through the air. And the dummy is pinned to the back of the wall by the knife, which is puncturing the dummy's heart.
Bullseye.
I look at the gamemakers. Sure enough, their faces are masks of either horror or excitement. Or both. Most of the men are grinning. "You may leave now, Viola" His voice is strained. He cringes away from me slightly. As if I will throw one of my knives at him. Even though the force field is impenetrable.
I nod politely and skip out the room. Literally. I feel on top of the world. My legs no longer felt weak and numb. But strong and powerful. I punched the air with my fists, silently screaming with joy. Then pause to see if anyone is around. Thank god no one was here to see my mini dance of triumph. I try to keep an emotionless face when I'm in the lift. But I can't compose my grin. I think that little performance got me at least an 8. Maybe a 9. When the lift door opens. My face turns to stone.
Everyone watches me come in. Our Male mentor. Blaine. Dena. Even the capitol attendants. They're obviously waiting for me to say something. They're all sitting on the colorful couches. Waiting for the screen to switch on and reveal their scores. I keep them all in suspense, for my own enjoyment.
"Hi" I say casually. I sit down on the seat next to Dena. Her honey perfume poisoning my nostrils. But I keep my face calm. They all still stare at me. "What?" I say.
"You know what!" Exclaims Blaine. She rushes over and clutches my arm lightly. "What happened? How did you do?"
It was entertaining to see them all press for information desperately. Though I felt slightly bad for Blaine. I'd tell her later. I shrugged again.
"Ok" I say. Fabian is looking at me intensely. All these eyes are making me uncomfortable. I shift in my seat.
"Well what did you do.?" Blaine urges.
"I-" But then I pause and look at Fabian. If I tell him I did knife throwing. He'd know my strength. And use it against me. An advantage for him. Which was just not fair. I shrugged again. The gesture slightly annoying now. "-did some stuff" I don't say any further. Fabian realizes what game I'm playing and narrows his eyes and turns his back on me. I resist a smile. One point to Viola.
Half an hour later. I am munching on a large slice of cake, bought up just for me, from the capitol attendant. I happily share some with Blaine, and even Dena. But Fabian and our male mentor look very annoyed when I don't offer them some. I don't care. The scores will be revealed soon.
The anthem plays and the television comes to life. I knock the cake on the floor and rush to sit by Fabian. He doesn't care I came to sit by him; he too is leaning forward and intently watching the screen. Here comes the scores. I hold my breath as Ceaser Flickerman starts:
I start to learn all the tributes names. And I commit their names and appearances to memory. Kale is the tall boy from district 1. He scored a 10 (no surprise there. Careers usually get a 10). The alluring and sly district 2 girl achieved an 8. The freckled short girl from 2 got a 9. He partner achieved a 9 also. The tanned boy with golden hair from district 4 gets a 9. The rest of the tributes score points not near as good enough as the careers. Until us. Fabian pulls up a 7. Which sends our team applauding and congratulating him. But I almost fell of the chair when the number 10 flashes on the screen for me.
10. Career standard. Better then some of the careers actually.
I get hugged and praised so much I can barely breathe. Dena looks so proud and I swear Blaine's eyes look slightly wet. But I turn my attention back to the screen. Were not done yet. I almost cry when Al receives a 3. Both Fabian and My male mentor laugh. Tanneth gets a 7. I know those are her axe skills. Then Rory Hawthorn gets a 7. I smile at his picture, and then Dena turns the television off.
"Well that was exciting! Come on now! Chop chop. Up to bed! We'll each be coaching your interviews tomorrow."
Fabian groans and I wince. That will be painful. Fabian and I slope off to our rooms. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.