"Seffie Zefrine," the woman's voice says.
I turn and look at Mike, who nods his head.
"Good luck," he says.
"Thanks; you too," I reply. I head into the training room, where all sorts of weapons are laid out. I grab a knife and throw it at the target. It hits dead center. I turn around slightly to see the gamemakers, and they're all nodding approvingly. I grab another knife and throw it. Again, it hits dead center. I keep on throwing the knives, and they all hit the center of the target. I pick up my last knife and throw it; it hits the center. I turn around and stare into the eyes of the gamemakers. They all nod their approval. Nobody has dismissed me yet, so I head over to the sword and swing it at the dummies. Again, I get approving nods from the gamemakers. Nobody has dismissed me, still. So I head over to the bow. I'd shot it once or twice on Training Day. Though it wasn't my favorite weapon, I figured it would be good to know how to sue any weapon.
I knocked the arrow and pulled back on the bowstring, focusing on the target. I let go of the bowstring and the arrow hits the target dead in the center. I grin and pull out another arrow and shoot it. Again, it hits dead center. I shoot four more arrows and all of them hit the center. I turn around and see that the gamemakers are nodding, some even grinning.
"Dismissed," the head gamemaker says. I nod and put the bow down, then head out of the room.
I sit on the couch and wait for the scores to come up. Oliver tries to get me to say what I did, but I don't tell him. I don't want anybody to know. If I say it, it makes it true. I don't want me being a good fighter to be true, no matter if it means I might be able to win.
"From District 7," the announcer's voice says. "Mike Rolint with a score of... 6!"
"What'd you do?" I ask him.
"I just threw some spears," Mike says, shrugging. 6 is an average score (or so I'm told), but at least he didn't get any lower.
"From District 7," the announcer's voice says. "Seffie Zefrine with a score of... 10!"
Gasps from all around. Even my mouth drops open. I got nearly double the score that Mike got.
"What did you do?" Mike asks me.
"A lot of stuff," I say, blinking.
"Well, that stuff got you a high score," Oliver says, grinning down at me. "The higher your score, the more sponsors you're going to get."
I shrug and stare at the screen as the rest of the scores are handed out. District 1, 2, and 3 get the highest scores (besides me).
After the scores, we finish our dinner and head off to bed. I crawl into my bed and close my eyes. The interviews are tomorrow, and I'm nervous. What if I mess up? What if I say something wrong? All I can do is hope that the sponsors watch and like me.