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Ceres Milani
District Two Female, 18 Years Old
Private Sessions: Pt. I
"Constance Baudin."
In a robotic manner, Constance stands up, her posture being something I haven't seen her slip up with. She always carries herself with elegance, with her back straightened and her hands down to her side. As she slips through the sliding doors, I watch her walk down the hallway, the doors closing on the image of her turning the corner.
I don't see what the problem is about her.
Carina seems to have some deep-seeded hatred for the girl, but who is she to judge? Who are any of us to judge? She can get on my nerves, but only when she has the nerve to comment on women and what their status should be in society. Besides that, I have nothing more to say about her.
Judging someone based on how they act in the Capitol is foolish. It's narrow-minded and foolish.
You should never judge a book by its cover.
Even when the book is a sexist, patriotic, and expressionless girl from District One, you should always know that there's more to someone than meets the eye. Even for me, I don't know what she's capable of just yet.
I'm not sure any of us do.
"Audric Lavier."
Constance passes Audric, giving him a curt nod. She's polite, I'll give her that, and she knows her boundaries. Only if people like Carina and Kace knew their boundaries, then we'd be better off. Audric steps through the doors, stretching out his fingers before it closes behind him.
He's an interesting one. Calm and collected, but that's just. Sort of like Constance, there's more to him, a side I haven't yet to seen. He's never really got involved in any argument with Carina and Constance, and I respect them about him. He knows where to draw the line between petty arguments and something purposeful. Back in the Training Center, he'd tried to talk to me, but it wasn't the place.
This isn't the place to make a friend.
This is never the place to make a friend.
Audric comes through the doors, and he hesitates to sit back down for a moment, but he ends up just leaving the hall altogether. I take a deep breath, wanting to remain calm for my session. Gamemakers pay attention to the little details, not how well you can wield a sword.
Some people just don't understand that.
"Ceres Milani."
Standing up, I close my eyes first, and then begin walking towards the door. I know that at this moment all of the tributes are looking at me, so I try to not seem unfazed by everything that's going on. Once I enter the hallway and hear the door slide shut, I loosen up a little bit, staring forward as I see the entrance into the Training Center in front of me.
I step into the Training Center, the bright lights above distracting me. I lower my head, not letting the brightness impede my eyesight now, needing this to be as perfect as possible. The Gamemakers notice me, and as they wave their hands for me to begin, I bow, wanting to seem as polite as possible.
It is the little details that matter.
Picking up the pace, I count my steps to the crossbow station, wanting to keep my mind on track. I feel relieved that they do have a crossbow, since I had a worry that they wouldn't. But, it's good for me; I've trained with this weapon more-so than any other one. It's a quick weapon, one that will do the job in the matter of seconds.
Grabbing one of the crossbows over the wall, I grab a pouch of the thin arrows, checking to make sure that the tips are sharp enough for the distance I'm at. Not wasting any time, I load an arrow onto the string, pulling it back. Once it's in place, it clicks, and as I raise the crossbow, I give the Gamemakers a look.
A look to show that I'm not fooling around.
A look a victor would have in their eye.
Pressing the trigger, I watch the arrow soar through the air, implanting itself right in the head of the dummy. Swiftly, I grab another arrow, loading this one more quickly than the last one. This time, I look through the scope, wanting to find a better spot. A better spot to show the Gamemakers what I'm capable of.
No, it's not arrogant. It's not pride.
It's just self-assurance. I know what I'm doing. If I didn't, I would not be working with a crossbow right now, and I most certainly would not have volunteered in the first place.
As I release the second arrow, I close my eyes at the sound of the arrow being implanted into the neck of the dummy. I open my eyes, the two arrows completely parallel to one another, and by looking at this, I let myself soak in the satisfaction.
I genuinely smile for the first time in a while.
"Thank you, Miss Milani."
Nodding at the Gamemakers, I bow again, and then turn back towards the hallway. This time, walking down the hallway is much more comforting. I exhale a deep breath, one that I was keeping pent up the whole time in there. Stepping out into the hallway, I let Kace pass me to go to this session, not looking up at him as he says something to me. I walk passed my other competition, keeping my face forward and not thinking about them. It's all about me now and what my session outcome will be.
Although I think I did well, there's always room for improvement. I could have walked faster, loaded the crossbow faster, or aimed better. I could have done a lot of things differently, but I can't have regrets. I did what I could. Still, I know that one small gesture or mistake could make the difference from an eight or nine.
Or even better, a nine and a ten.
That's what I was trained to do, after all.
To score the highest.
To be the best.
And I won't disappoint.
Silas Braxton
District Seven Male, 16 Years Old
Private Sessions: Pt. II
"Katcia Elspeth."
The boy from Six, Nerva, trails along the wall, dragging his finger across it. Katcia walks passed him, stepping to the side as they come almost brush shoulders. I watch the boy more than I watch Katcia right now, since I don't understand what he's doing. Why won't he sit down?
Why doesn't he just leave?
As he passes me, I bring in my legs a little, not wanting him to come near me. After he's gone, though, I go back to staring at the door, waiting for Katcia to come back out. I hope she does well, that's all I could ask for. She deserves it. She's nice and friendly and even though she might not be the best with weapons, she has a good character.
I think that deserves a high score. The Gamemakers should too.
Tapping my heel on the ground, I create a nice rhythm for myself, where I tap my heel then tap my finger. It distracts me for a little bit, not really sure what to think about or what to do while I'm sitting here alone. On my left is the girl from Eight, Maureen, but she doesn't talk too much. I tried to talk to her, but whenever I did, she'd just look away or stare blankly at the ground.
I get it. I'm not for everyone.
As the door slides open, Katcia appears, and as we make eye-contact, she smiles. It's a nervous smile, one that I haven't really seen from her before. After we made it into our current alliance, she seemed to be more confident, but her face shows otherwise. I just hope everything went well in there.
Something like this could really ruin someone's self-esteem.
Gamemakers judging us, being critical and scrutinizing. This is what matters to them.
"Silas Braxton."
At the sound of my name on the overhead speaker, I stand up, giving Katcia one last look. She chooses to sit back next to where I was, waiting for me to come back out. She's good like that; always waiting up for me. I'm glad I found someone like that to have in my life.
It's been long enough.
Walking through the doors, I begin to go down the hallway, the anxiety finally kicking it. I try to remind myself that if I keep myself focused, I will be okay. I will be okay if I do what Blight told me: To work with a weapon I'm comfortable with, not too strain myself, and try not to make any mistakes. I just wish it were that simple.
I'm used to making mistakes, so I'm not sure this will work out for me.
Stepping into the Training Center makes me feel like I hit a brick wall. I stop once I see the Gamemakers looking down at me, shaking now. I try to step forward and say my name, but my throat croaks, so I go against it. I nod my head, not really sure what I'm supposed to do right now. Blight told me to state my name and my District, but they should know that, shouldn't they?
Going over to where the machetes are, I breathe calmly, not letting my nerves get to me. But, once I grab a hold of a machete, they consume me. I look down at the machete, my mind drifting right back to District Seven. To the District where I was told I wasn't good enough.
To where I wasn't good enough.
To the District where I had no place.
Raising the machete, I look at it, taking one last deep breath. I raise it until I walk over towards the dummy, and with one swing, I lodge the blade into its neck. It takes a little more energy to rip it back out, but I manage to do it, stumbling back a little. I go back at it, swinging a little higher this time, aiming for its head. When it gets lodged in the head, it's much harder to rip it back out, so I leave it there.
I try to get another machete to do something else, but my time is up. There's a buzzer, and as I turn around, I see the Gamemakers looking down at me. This is where they judge me. This is where they look how weak and frail I am.
This is where they see the real me.
The me who was ostracized in the District full of strong, athletic lumberjacks.
Keeping my head down, I stare at the ground, escaping the Training Center as fast as I can. I don't take my time down the hallway, and as the doors open in front of me, I look up just in time to see Katcia waiting for me. Maureen passes by me, now going in for her session. Katcia gestures to leave, but I shake my head, both of us sitting back down on the bench.
Katcia whispers something to me, but I can't really hear it and even if I could I wouldn't want to respond. I messed up in there – of course I did. I was always going to mess up in these sessions. These are made for the strong and competent tributes, not the weak ones. They weren't made for me.
I was destined to do poorly.
"It's okay," Katcia whispers, patting her hand on top of mine. "So what if you get a one? I'll get a one too, then."
I manage to let a smile come on my face, but it goes away as Maureen comes back out from her session. She has an awkward look on her face and she walks past me, mumbling something to herself. Next up is the boy from District Eight, the one who volunteered; that's how I remember him.
I remember him because he stood out.
And maybe he'll stand out in his private sessions too.
Maybe he'll be able to get a high score. He'll be a stand out for sure, then. He volunteered. He did something for himself. He didn't let whatever was hurting him continue to do so – he got away from it.
And me?
I let it eat me away. I let the pain get to me.
I could never volunteer like he did.
I am Silas, after all. I'm not cut out for the Hunger Games, and I don't think I ever will be cut out for anything.
I don't think I will ever be a stand out.
Chet Perry
District Three Male, 16 Years Old
Training Score: Pt. I
"From District One: Constance Baudin with a score of – nine."
Curling up in a ball, I get comfortable in the couch, only knowing that it'll get worse from here on out. With each new for a tribute, there will be one more thing to worry about. One more tribute to avoid in the arena, one more tribute that will want to kill me.
Just one more obstacle that won't want me to go home.
As Constance's face goes off the screen, Nora is still laughing to herself, probably wanting to attract the attention of anyone in the room. But, for whatever reason she wants it, now is not the time. Now is the time to survey the competition, to really make sure of who to avoid in the arena.
"Audric Lavier with a score of – nine."
Great, both tributes from District One with a score of nine. If that reflects anything about the rest of the Career alliance, I'm in trouble. I'm in some big trouble with no way to get around it. Even with my alliance, I'm not sure we would win when pitted against the Careers. They are trained, after all, and have experience.
What do we have?
"From District Two: Ceres Milani with a score of – nine."
Sinking back into the couch, I try not to let anyone see how my face is reacting, since I'd seem weak. Nora has been telling me to grow up and to not be a child anymore. I'm not a child, though. I'm just being realistic. I have all right to be scared, don't I? We are in the Hunger Games, and I am not a victor like she is. She has to put herself in my shoes and then she can judge me.
She's rude, anyway. I don't value her opinion much.
"Kace Edevane with a score of – eight."
Regardless, I still have to worry about him. I have to worry about every single tribute out there, no matter what. Even if it's the boy from Ten or my own District partner, I have to keep my guard up. Besides, an eight is still exceptional, and chances are I didn't even get close to that.
We're up next, and as Kace's face begins to disappear off the screen, I begin to get nervous. It's only a number, I know, but that reflects the whole alliance. Plus, sponsors care about this; personally, I don't care about it, but everyone else does. It's just a number.
"From District Three: Kapera Silliah with a score of – five."
Kapera smiles to herself, looking around for someone to talk to. I make sure not to be in her line of sight, not wanting to talk to anyone right now. Nora mumbles something to herself, but we all ignore it, knowing that it's probably something pessimistic and hurtful.
"Up to you, Chet," Kapera calls over, and as I watch my face come up on the screen, I'd really rather not see.
"Chet Perry with a score of – three."
"A three?" Nora blurts out, clapping her hands together. "A three, hah! That… That is what I like to see!"
Even with old age, Nora is still the same person she has always been. I ignore her, though, and go back to looking at the screen. For a moment, I feel bad about it, as if I should have done better. As I look at the number next to my face some more, I feel myself not caring as much. I just shrug, letting it flash to the next person.
I'm not really sure how I was supposed to react.
"From District Four: Carina Ellison with a score of – nine."
And there's another for the Careers. The lowest scoring Career was Kace, and even still, an eight isn't bad. That's a lot better than I did, as well as Kapera. I knew that she would score well – I overheard her talking a lot in the Training Center and I saw her training – but I didn't think the other Careers would as well.
As the male from Four's face appears, I could only guess what he'll get.
"Alamar Seward with a score of – ten."
"You should be more like him!" Nora squawks, her voice giving me a headache now.
I knew that was coming, so I'm not surprised. He's definitely the strongest, most arrogant one there. From what I've seen, he's the leader of the Careers, and with that score, he deserves to be. If you can score a ten, you should know how to lead an alliance. I can only imagine what he'll be like in the alliance.
And, as Limnic's face comes up on the screen, I become more nervous for her than I was for me.
"From District Five: Limnic Hablitz with a score of – two."
"And you want to ally with her?" Nora calls out, and I ignore her once again.
A two? I'm… I'm actually surprised. I always thought that she'd be able to do more than that, but as I think about it, I never really saw her do anything. Nothing with weapons, anyway. She never picked up a knife or ran the Gauntlet. It makes sense now, but still, I thought she would have done better.
Now, it's time to see what Evan and Inger got.
"Evan Aleces with a score of – five."
When I see what score Evan got, I'm happy for him, as well as for this alliance. I think that Inger will score similar to him, and even though Limnic and I didn't as well, it doesn't matter. We're an alliance, so we should be able to balance one another out. We all bring something new to the table, each with different skills and talents.
"From District Six: Inger Melville with a score of – five."
Once again, a good score for one of my own allies. A five is about average I'd say, so at least we got that. I'm going to say we because we're an alliance, not individuals. I just hope that Evan and Inger don't think differently of us now just from our scores.
They shouldn't, anyway. It's just a score.
"Nerva Vindex with a score of – one."
As his score comes up on the screen, I am a little taken back, even though he means nothing to me. A one? How does someone manage to get that? I know that I say I shouldn't care about scores, but I'd care if I were to get a one. A one is the lowest number you can get, and even that's a pretty rare number to get.
Unless he didn't do anything at all. All he did was show up it seems.
Do people not care? It's just a number, but if they can only get a one, what can they do in the arena? Will they be able to do anything? Do they not know where they are?
Now is not the time to be careless.
It never is.
Not when you live in a place like Panem.
Kade Blaire
District Twelve Male, 16 Years Old
Training Scores: Pt. II
"From District Seven: Katcia Elpseth with a score of – four."
As the first girl's face appears on the screen, I don't feel any different, which was to be expected. I feel nothing for any other tribute here – except for my allies, but even then, I only did it out of pity. I only allied with those boys because they were bugging me, and frankly, I know they'll die.
I did it for the moment, but once we hit the arena, they'll be gone. I never had any faith in them, anyway.
Their deaths were inevitable.
"Silas Braxon with a score of – three."
Another tribute, another meaningless face. All of them mean nothing to me. Amelia did for a moment, but once she opened that mouth of hers, I let any care I had for her go. I only cared for her out of respect, since we were District partners and all.
I could never care for anyone like I did for Savanna. No one here deserves it. They're all selfish, wanting to kill other kids to go home. Me? I have nothing to go home to at the end of the day. Sure, I have Savanna, but even then it's limited.
Besides, why would I fight for the Capitol? Why would I give the Capitol exactly what they want?
They ruined my life. They really did.
"From District Eight: Maureen Lowell with a score of – five."
Now that the thought of Savanna is in my mind, I reach into my pocket, searching around for the locket that she gave me. Once I find it, I bring it out of my pocket, looking at it carefully. It says 'AC' on the back for her initials. At the good-byes, Savanna was one of my only visitors.
It's not like I had anyone left to come say good-bye to me.
That Peacekeeper that I call my father sure wouldn't have come. He probably knew I was going to be reaped all along.
"Rollo Damario with a score of – four."
Placing the locket down next to me, I look up, seeing Amelia at the other end of the couch. She's leaning on her elbows, her head placed on top of her hand. She rolls her eyes at Rollo's face and score, and behind him is Haymitch. We make eye-contact quickly, but I look away, not wanting to talk to him.
I don't like him.
He's intrusive and is arrogant. I don't have time for people like him.
Even if he's a victor, he knows nothing. He knows nothing about me and doesn't know a thing about winning.
"From District Nine: Damaris Ponte with a score of –four."
Resting my head on the back of the couch, I stare at the ceiling, the man's voice on the screen just annoying to me now. All he does is say a name, say their score, and then that's it. He's so off-hand with it too, just saying it off a script and then moving on. Clearly, the Capitol doesn't care too much about the tributes.
All we're worth is a few seconds.
I don't blame them. All of this pre-arena time is bullshit.
It'd be better to put is in the arena right away.
"Dymas Corrigan with a score of – six."
At this score, Haymitch chuckles, the sound of hoarse and scratchy. He goes back to drinking whatever is in that bottle, tossing his head back, and as I watch the liquid pour downwards, it just makes me hate him more. Alcohol just reminds me of the shit-hole that I came from, referring to both the adoption house and to the Peacekeeper's house.
And both places I weren't too fond.
Just like I'm not fond of Haymitch.
"From District Ten: Halley Carradine with a score of – four."
Another four for another meaningless tribute.
Another training score that means absolutely nothing. That proves absolutely nothing. That is only a way to help the people from the Capitol to judge based solely off appearance and skills.
It's just stupid. All of this is.
I'd rather be in the Games than sitting on this couch, which says a lot.
"Peros Nebron with a score of – three."
I widen my eyes as a response to his training score, even though I should care more. He is my ally, but it doesn't matter. He got a three, so there isn't much he can do, apparently. A three usually means you're a Bloodbath.
It's that simple.
If you score poorly, you're dead.
He was dead either way, so there was never really any chance for him. At least he didn't get a one like that boy from Six did; that's just pathetic. But, he had a point if he didn't try – there never is really a point in trying.
Especially in these private sessions; there was no point in trying.
"From District Eleven: Copper Donoghue with a score of – four."
The only thing that keeps me going is that these are almost over. That there are only three more tributes to go, including me, yet it still doesn't mean anything. I just want to go to sleep.
I just want to be left alone.
The one time I actually want to be left alone I can't get it.
"Lomman Rybar with a score of – three."
Another three for my other ally. I can tell you right now that I didn't score a three; why would I try? It was pointless. Me trying to pick up a weapon and do something with it, especially to show off to the Gamemakers – it's stupid. It's stupid and silly for me to waste any more energy than I already have by being here.
It's painful enough, and all of this time being wastes makes it worse.
"From District Twelve: Amelia Winters with a score of – five."
Haymitch chuckles again, the sound of the glass bottle hitting the counter making me look that way. Amelia seems satisfied enough, a smirk on her face that just makes me roll my eyes. She's excited over a five, seriously?
A five out of twelve.
It's not that impressive.
She's not that impressive.
But, neither am I. The only difference there is that I accept it.
"Kade Blaire with a score of – two."
And with that, I stand up, fully prepared to go into my room and sleep. As I begin to walk away, I feel no need to look back at the screen to remind myself I got a two, but Haymitch's voice makes me slow down.
"So, is that it, Kade?" He asks, his voice hoarse. "Are you ready to give up now? You got a two, is that it? Do you have an excuse to get killed now?"
"Yes, Haymitch," I say back, still staring at my door in front of me, my back to him. "That is my excuse. Now, if you don't mind, I want to be alone and think of what I should do to the camera when I'm dying on the ground."
"You're miserable."
"Am I?" I ask back, feeling the anger boiling. "Am I miserable? Or am I better off than the rest?"
"You're better off because you hate the world, that makes sense."
He doesn't know what he's talking about. He's just as naïve as the rest. They all think that by getting a good score they might live, that they might have a chance to be victor. They know nothing. There's nothing you can do to avoid the inevitable.
We all die at the end of day.
One way or another, I'll end up dead, just like every other tribute here.
We're just wasting time.
Author's Note:
There are the Training Scores!
Next up is the Interviews, then the Launch, and then the Bloodbath. We're really close to the Games and I kind of just want to get them started. Capitol gets dragged out sometimes, eh.
But, anyway, there they are. Did any of the scores come as a shock to you? Were you disappointed with any?
What tributes stood out to you?
And a personal question:
What do you think your training score would be?