Training Day Two.

A Cannon in the Wind;

The Fifth Hunger Games.

Kaya Vause, 16;

District Eight Female.

"Kaya." Just like last night, Zander stands in front of me, blocking my way to the kitchen. His face is set in that stone cold stare of his, the one I've come to know all too well. "Ally with me. We'd be good together, I just know it."

I take a step back, giving my District Partner a gentle smile. When I first met Zander a few days ago, he looked so sweet and innocent—and he may still be, under that tough persona he has. The thing is...he's just too controlling. Too persistent in his quest to get me to form an alliance with him. I've never worked well with people who tried to control me, ergo the Peacekeepers. I like him, truly...but it's just something in my gut that tells me allying would be a bad idea.

"I'm sorry, Zander," I say, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Why does it feel like I'm breaking up with him or something? "But I just don't think it'll work out. You're a good guy...but...we just can't ally."

He moves his arm away from my touch—and somehow, it's like the air between us gets thicker and thicker. Zander stares me down—and not one to really be intimidated, I meet his stare head-on. I don't want for there to be hostility between us. I don't. But if Zander continues to harass me like this...

Let's just say I'm not just a chatty, amiable girl. I can be friendly, but I can also be ruthless. I can be comforting, but I can also be unnerving. I want Zander and I to keep up a warm relationship. I want him to know that even though we can't be allies, we're still both from District Eight. We're still both in this together, no matter what.

"If you want to live..." His tone gets considerably lower. I shift, frowning. "...then you will ally with me, Kaya. Do you understand?"

My eyes narrow. "Was that a threat, Zander?" Is this really happening right now? Am I seriously arguing with my District Partner whether or not we can form an alliance or not? When I was Reaped a few days ago, a scenario like this never even crossed my mind.

Alliances are tricky for me anyway. How can someone like me even be trusted in the tribute community? After being chained to the chariot yesterday, I'm pretty sure most of the others are going to steer clear. They don't want a loose cannon like me. I just can't help it, though. Whenever I'm around someone from the Capitol, it's hard to control the hate coursing throughout my body. They've just done so much evil. They've just given me so much pain and heartache.

And now, they're sending me to an Arena to fight for my life. When thoughts like these fill my mind, the affable girl I am disappears. It's replaced with a deep loathing; it's replaced with the intense urge to gain revenge on anything and anyone that's ever hurt me.

Zander takes a step forward—and for a scary second, I'm afraid that he's going to attack me. I'm afraid that the Games have already begun, and my first kill will be my District Partner. I don't want that. I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone.

But you will. When push comes to shove, you will protect yourself to the bitter end.

"Er, am I interrupting something?"

Zander twitches, turning around—and we're met with the grinning face of our Escort, Sabina. In her hand is a bagel, which is typical, but the look on her face rubs me the wrong way. And not even because she's from the Capitol, either. It's...

Oh. I blush, realizing just how close Zander and I are to each other. He looks away from our Escort, back towards me—and before I even know what I'm doing myself, I shove him away.

"It's not like that!" I snap at the laughing lady, rushing past the both of them. "Stop laughing! It's not funny! D-Do you freaks even understand English?!"

Sabina continues to laugh, while Zander just has on that blank expression of his. All through breakfast, I'm blushing, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. Sabina's from the Capitol; if Zander and I were to somehow hook up, she'd just see it as drama to make the Games more interesting. She just doesn't understand. And it's sad. Normal teenagers would be able to get together as freely as possible, do as much and be as free as they want. But because of the Capitol, we can't be normal teenagers.

We're tributes. Kids are wielding axes before they can get their first kiss. Hell, I've never even been kissed by a boy yet. And because of the Capitol, I probably never will.

Breakfast goes by uneventfully. If things were like yesterday, I would be talking freely with Zander about a multitude of things. Anything to make my District Partner happier. Anything to make him comfortable. But after what just happened, I'm not so sure if I even want to associate with Zander anymore. He threatened me, didn't he? He was about to hit me, wasn't he?

"Alright, you two. Breakfast over. I know, I wish we could eat more, too—but you have duties as tributes that need to be upheld." Sabina ushers us into the elevator, talking all the way down. If she wasn't from this city of evil, I could really see us two getting along. Both of us being nice and talkative and everything.

But she is from this city.

And I'll never be able to forgive.

The door to the elevator opens, and once again, I'm back in a place filled to the brim with weapons. There are a few tributes already here—like the pair from Two, and even the two young ones from Eleven. As Sabina heads back upstairs, and Zander goes off to do his own thing, I can't help but stare at the tributes from District Two. During the war, they supported the Capitol. If they were to have helped us, then maybe none of this would be happening.

But they didn't help. They supported the very people that are so callously sending them to their deaths.

If there are any tributes here that I wouldn't mind getting dirty with, it'd be them.

"Excuse me."

I'm brought out of my dark thoughts by a sweet voice. Turning around, I become face-to-face with the pair from District Three and their thin Escort. Ignoring the lady behind them, I quickly move to the side.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, a small smile gracing my face. They're both so young, so innocent. They don't deserve this. "I didn't even realize that I was in the way."

The girl smiles back at me. "It's okay!" And with that, she drags her rather quiet District Partner along to one of the non-weapon sections. I stare at them as they go, something aching in my chest, something akin to jealousy. I wish Zander and I were like them—but unless I agree to become allies, he doesn't want anything to do with me. And why me? Why does he need it to be me so badly? Why can't he find someone else?

I shake off those thoughts, walking away from the entrance before another two tributes decide to come. Honestly, I don't even think I'm jealous of the fact that Zander and I can't be like the pair from Three. I'm jealous of the fact that they can act their age, even in a twisted situation like this. I've never been one to really act my age. Not since my auntie died. And even before that, things were really tense.

My mother was raped by two Peacekeepers, just because she needed to leave work early. My great-grandfather was sick, my mom told me, and she wasn't going to let the Capitol force her to neglect him. Well, the Peacekeepers didn't like that—and nine months after her attack, I was born. Who would want a child from the man that raped them? Nobody would. So you could say I was a bit neglected; my mother wanted nothing to do with me, and neither did her parents. For most of my life, all I could wonder was why. Why did my family resent me?

I should've known. Being the only one in my family with fiery red hair was a dead giveaway.

The only one who gave me the time of the day was my mother's sister, auntie Kiera. She treated me like a real family member should have, but even better. We were practically sisters ourselves. Auntie Kiera and I did everything together, from cooking to working. She taught me how to fight, and I sang to her whenever she was feeling down. She was the greatest thing in my life...

I wipe my eyes, feeling the tears starting to spring up. I can't cry—not here, not in front of these other tributes. Not with the group of Peacekeepers in the corner watching my every step. I refuse to give the Capitol the satisfaction of seeing me break down.

...I need an escape. Yesterday, I refused going to any station. I refused to play the Capitol's game. But now, I can't stop my feet from taking me towards the swords. Every day after my auntie died, I practiced with the sword—not only because it was what my aunt taught me to do, but because it was a way to escape reality. If only for a few minutes, I could feel free and limitless.

"You're trying to learn how to use a sword?" The Capitol lady standing by the rack asks me. I roll my eyes, placing the wretched woman out of my mind. She's not even here. She's not even invisible. She's non-existent. Don't think about her.

She continues talking, but I tune her out, grabbing a simple sword from the rack. It doesn't feel quite as familiar as the one at home; it feels wrong, deadly, evil. Nonetheless, I weigh it in my hands, inspecting the weight and even the sharpness. Everything seems good.

"Excuse me!" The lady suddenly yells, getting tired of me ignoring her. I give her a glance, clenching the sword in my hands. Don't do it, Kaya. "Do you hear me talking to you? I asked if you knew the rules. Don't harm any other tributes with the weapons, or else there will be serious repercussions."

I scowl at the trainer. "I'm more inclined to harming you than the other tributes."

She gasps at that, taking a few steps back. Snorting, I turn back to the pure white dummies, sword held skillfully in my hands. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling the energy buzzing throughout my body.

And then, I charge. I shove my sword through the first dummy, putting as much force as I can muster in it. It comes out through the other side—and then, I slash to the right, putting a deep gash in the dummy. Red cotton flies out, momentarily shocking me stiff...but no, I can't get choked up like this. Picturing the dummies as Peacekeepers, a small smile creeps along my face—and I slash at the others, the ferocity almost shocking me a bit.

A few minutes later, and I'm done. The dummies around me are all tattered to pieces, red cotton littering the ground. For a second, the severity of the situation I'm in goes away, and I'm free. But then, that second is replaced by another, and the emotions filling my chest are almost suffocating.

I just want aunt Keira back.

I just want to go home.

"Hey there!" Someone suddenly taps me on my shoulder. I spin around—and I'm met with the faces of the pair from District Four and the boy from District Six. I take a step back, stunned—and in the corner of my eye, I see Zander watching from afar.

What do these three want with me?

The lone girl takes a step up, smiling a warm smile. "Hi. You're Kaya Vause from District Eight, right? I'm Ula Dylan, and the two boys behind me with the terribly fake smiles are Caio Artelle and Breno Harmont." Oh, I remember them now. Ula volunteered for her younger sister, Caio refused to take his Escort's trident, and Breno was the one who tried to be funny during the Reapings.

Caio sucks his teeth, playfully shoving Ula's shoulder. "Don't tell her that, Ula!" Ula laughs, shoving him back, while Breno just stands to the side, an awkward aura surrounding him.

I smile a little. "Yes? Do you guys...want something?" I can't stop the hopefulness from seeping into my voice. Never did I actually think that someone would come to me for an alliance. Especially three.

Ula, being the spokesperson, quickly holds out her hand. "We'd love for you to form an alliance with us! Are you in?"

Grinning now, I take her hand, enthusiastically shaking it. Maybe it's because they all seem so friendly, but I feel that I can trust them. And the fact that they feel like they can trust me is great as well.

"Of course I'm in," I say, nodding my head. Ula's face brightens considerably, while Caio and Breno both give some sort of half-grin.

Maybe, like the two from Three, we can act our age. I can learn to be a real teenager, even in this hopeless situation.

Even in this cursed society.

Daniel Church, 17:

District Seven Male.

"You've been awfully distant for a while now," Calla says, suddenly sitting down next to me. Last time I saw her, she was training with the axes. The girl smiles, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Is anything wrong? Not gonna bother anyone else today?"

Looking away from the target in front of me, I smirk, leaning in closer to her. "What, would you like for me to bother you?"

My District Partner laughs, shoving me away. "You're just too much, I swear."

I shrug, chuckling along. Calla's a nice girl, and she's pretty funny, too. While my shameless flirting gets me nowhere, it's still fun to mess with her. And there's nothing wrong with having a bit of fun before the Games, right? I don't think there is.

Besides... Twenty-three of us won't live to see next month. It's best I enjoy myself here as best as I can, until the blood starts to spill and I have to become the one thing I never wanted to be. A tribute.

I furrow my brows, suddenly deep in thought. A volunteer that doesn't want to be a tribute. Isn't that kind of poetic? Or maybe it's just stupid. Whatever it is, it's true—I don't want to be here. I just didn't want Luke getting caught up in any of this. Ever since these Games began, my younger brother has had such a sick fascination with it.

But no, he wasn't enamored by the death itself. He was enamored by the opportunity. He always came home telling me how he'd win the Hunger Games, and then gain support from others in his prestiged position. He'd start another rebellion against the Capitol—but this time, we'd win, and he'd somehow take control of Panem as the new President.

I couldn't let that happen. For starters, the odds of my brother dying in the Games were way too high. He's only fifteen-years-old; he's just so impatient, so arrogant. Secondly, I couldn't let another war happen, on the off-chance that he did win. So many lives have been lost already. So many men, women, children—all of them lying six feet underground, because of human beings' selfishness. Because of hate.

One day, I hope Panem changes. I hope, for the first time in forever, we will be able to love each other instead of kill each other. I hope the Capitol will stop forcing the twelve districts to send in children to kill. I hope the Capitol can help the districts, rather than starve them and force them to work. I just hope...

I just hope nobody else has to needlessly die. I just hope the entire world can one day find peace.

"So, Daniel," Calla starts, a pensive look in her eyes. I blink out of my thoughts, answering to the name given to me. It's not my real name—but when my parents sent my brother and I to District Seven, we had to smudge our identities a bit. Nobody wanted to be associated with rebels, not back then. Peacekeepers killed for far less.

"Yes, Calla?"

"Why are you actually training instead of aimlessly walking around? Did Sylvan tell you something?"

I snort, shrugging a bit. "No, Sylvan doesn't particularly bother with me much. I just...wanted to get a bit of training in today. See what I know and what I don't know." While I'm talking, I aim the knife in my hands at the target in front of me, eyes squinted. When swinging around a weapon, I feel that I can possibly best everyone in here. But I've never had to throw knives before. And I feel it's best to at least get acquainted with the skill, because what if knives are the only things in the cornucopia?

Doubtful, but possible. I like being prepared for everything, because...because I don't want to die. I may put on this pretentious front most of the time, and I may flirt a lot...but I really don't want to die. The medallion around my neck just proves how desperate I can be, if pushed to a certain point.

Swiftly, before I can mess myself up, I throw the knife. It spins through the air, a loud whistling sound accompanying it—and seconds later, it lands itself in the wood. Not a bullseye, unfortunately...but I can work with this. I'm nothing if not a quick learner.

Calla grins at me, clapping her hands. "Good job, Daniel! Have you even done this before?"

I shake my head, smiling right back at her. "No, but I do possess a rudimentary understanding of combat tactics. I've had multiple tutors in my lifetime, and they constantly mentioned how much of a prodigy I am." Suddenly, a bad feeling envelops the pit of my stomach. "Um, is it obvious? I don't want anyone to find out about me, or see me as a threat or anything..."

That'd be bad. If the two from District Two put me on their hit-list, the Games will be a lot more difficult to overcome. I don't need them to target me during the Bloodbath. My plan is to get through this fairly undetected, and go all out when I get far enough in the Games. Volunteering has already made me look like someone I'm so clearly not...

Calla raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I don't think so. I mean, they'd have to really be paying attention to you..." She sighs, momentarily looking away. "You're so lucky, Daniel. It's like the world has been preparing you for this exact situation. Compared to you, I'm just..."

She trails off. I open my mouth to disagree, to bring her spirits up—but she quickly puts a smile back on her face, bringing a finger to my lips.

"Don't say anything. I can kind of guess what you'll say anyway."

I smirk, holding her hands in mine, keeping her finger pressed to my lips. "Well, instead of talking, we can do something more worthwhile..."

"Daniel." She wrenches her hand away, her eyes and her mouth saying two different things. "For the last time, no. You've got better luck making out with the District Two guy than me."

I chuckle, looking away from my District Partner. "You're probably right. His name is Kostos, right? Not too bad-looking. Yeah, I can get with that..."

"I wish you could understand just how weird you are."

"I think everyone has a bit of weird in them. It's just how you show it." I stare at Calla, feeling something weird in my chest. I've never really had a conversation this fun and playful with anyone in District Seven. When Luke and I first moved, we were fairly...unimpressed with everyone. We stayed to ourselves. Everything was too foreign to get used to, so we just didn't get used to it. We created our blacksmith shop, only hoping to survive. We didn't realize how popular it'd make us.

I'm a bit more diverse than my brother, at least. I can deal with all kinds of people. I've just never really had...friends. There were girls I flirted with, boys I flirted with—but no real friends. Nobody to talk to me like Calla is now.

Is it because we're both only a few days from death? Is that what's bringing two different people together?

"You know what?" I say, walking away from the knives and motioning for her to follow. She does. "I feel like we need some allies. There are a bunch of tributes in here, and it would suck for us to be attacked by a bigger alliance."

Her eyes widen, before another smile graces her lips. "I think that's a great idea. But who?"

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Hmm..." She looks around the large training room, humming to herself. Suddenly, her eyes stop at the District Nine girl, who's slashing at a dummy with her machete. "How about her? She seems friendly, and strong, too."

I frown, shaking my head. "Toren Ingalls? Yeah, I already talked to her yesterday. Politely declined when I asked if she wanted to have a good time."

Calla doesn't even comment on that, too used to my comments. "Okay. How about the District Ten girl? The one that's always smiling?"

"I remember her. London Tienna. Yeah, she informed me that she already has a boyfriend, unfortunately."

"How about her District Partner? He seems nice, right?"

"Ricky Laris? After my proposal, he couldn't even stutter out an answer. Perhaps I was a bit too forward..."

Calla suddenly groans, shoving me. I laugh, swatting her hands away whenever they get too close. What? It's not my fault. I just wanted to get to know everyone yesterday. As I said, these tributes feel like it's easier to hate each other, because then it'll be easier to kill each other. But no, I don't... I don't want that to happen. Hate is ruining this world. I want us all to be cordial with each other, at least until...we're forced to do unspeakable things.

"Is there anyone you haven't scared away?" She asks me, frowning now. I ponder that thought for a bit, looking around the room to survey. I didn't bother the Twelves, but they don't seem like the most ideal alliance to be in. It's sad, and I wish I could help...but their bad luck in the Games is infamous by now. I talked to the two from District Eleven, offering to protect them in the Bloodbath if they ally with Calla and I...but they didn't seem too keen on the idea.

Anyone else? I look around the room, surveying each station. I see the District One guy training with the tomahawks, the District Five girl tying ropes...

And that's when I see them. The District Three tributes—Iris Logan and Tet Kender. If anything, I really pity the younger tributes. If they had to have been chosen for the Hunger Games, why couldn't it have been in a few years? Why did they have to be condemned to a fate of death at such an early age? It's not fair.

Once again, I find myself disliking the Capitol. Savages. Sending little children to their untimely deaths... It's the worst thing ever. It's only right for me to be able to assist them. If only to keep them alive a little longer...

"Them." I point towards the two from Three, already walking towards their little section. "I haven't messed with them yet. We can form an alliance with them. We can save them, Calla." My District Partner follows behind, questioning me—but one thing about Calla is that she's too sweet, too delightful. While others may scoff and call me silly, she'll stick through with me, because she's too good of a person.

We reach them, Tet fiddling with wires while Iris encourages him. The trainer is an old man, a warm smile on his face as he watches them. When he sees us standing behind them, though, his smile falters.

"This station is pretty occupied," the man says, sending worried looks towards Tet and Iris. The girl looks up at us and smiles, though, while the boy just continues working. "I would tell you two to wait a bit, but it's almost lunchtime. Can you maybe come back early tomorrow?"

"There's no need for that, sir," I reassure, giving a warm smile. "We're not here to cause any trouble. We would just like to talk with them for a bit, if that's okay?"

I know what he thinks. We're two older kids, about to kick these two out of their station. And considering I volunteered, I'm instantly given a bad image. But I'm not bad, and I'd never mess with these two. Assumptions are one thing I find distasteful, because you never really get to know a person without associating with them first.

"Yes?" Iris asks, her brown eyes big and trusting. Not fair. "Do you...need help with something?"

"Of course not, sweetie," Calla says quickly, bending down and smiling at them. Now that she sees how innocent they truly are, I can already see her getting attached. "I'm Calla Mallow, and this is my friend Daniel Church. We actually wanted to know if you two would like to...maybe work together? Form an alliance?"

Before the girl can answer, Tet manages to finish doing whatever he was doing, because the three lights at the end of the table flash up. The old man gasps, quickly congratulating the kid on arranging the wires perfectly. Apparently, it's a really difficult thing to do, especially at his age.

I smile, the gears in my brain whirring. Maybe this alliance won't just be me protecting them. Maybe I can use him to benefit us all.

"Tet?" Iris nudges her District Partner, and he finally looks up. When he sees us standing above them both, his eyes widen. Was he so focused that he didn't even notice us? "Calla and Daniel asked us for an alliance! Do you think we should accept?"

Tet blinks, his gaze slowly assessing the both of us. And then, he tilts his head. "If... If you'd like?"

There's a heartbeat of silence, before Iris cheers. "Yay! We'll all work together then! We're allies!"

I smile at them. "That's great. I'm glad that we'll able to assist each other."

Even if I have to become a tribute, I'm not going to throw away my morals. I'm not going to betray my allies, or do anything to hurt them. I'm not going to turn into a monster.

But is that even possible? Yes, it is. It has to be possible.

I'll make it possible.

Eion Daltier, 18;

District Twelve Male.

"Tributes!" Vincio is standing in the middle of the room again, like he does whenever he has something important to say. Unnecessary, maybe, but everything the Capitol seems to do is unnecessary. "Training for today is officially over! Head over to the cafeteria for lunch, and then leave to your appropriate places when you are finished. Just like yesterday. Please don't make this difficult."

I smile, giving Isabel a knowing look. "Food, finally. I almost thought they'd start to starve us."

My District Partner smiles back at me, getting up from her place on the mat. Today, we focused on survival skills, unlike yesterday when we tried out different weapons. I found out that I was best adapted to using a spear, surprisingly, while Isabel tried her hands with a scythe. She wasn't the best at it...but she tried. And trying is the best thing we can do right now...

I try to keep the frown from showing on my face, but Isabel notices it anyway. I'm not the best at keeping in my emotions, I admit. Isn't it better to let other people know how you feel anyway? If I were to bottle up the emotions I feel on a daily period, I'd probably explode.

"What's wrong?" She asks me, before she blinks and holds out her hand. "Do you need help getting up?"

"No, it's not that." Already, the other tributes are lining up, lunch trays in their hands for the Capitol lady to serve them. I get up from the ground, dusting myself off, and then look Isabel straight in the eye. "I just had a thought. A bad one, about where we are and what we're doing...and I don't like it. I don't like any of this, Isabel..."

She furrows her brows, the worry showing a mile away. That's what I like about my District Partner; even though we're in the Capitol, training for the Hunger Games, with twenty other teenagers that will be trying to kill us...she still has a good heart. She's still a person that genuinely cares about others, about me, and she won't let the Capitol take that away from her.

They may take her life, but they won't take away her humanity. Neither will they take mine.

"I know, it's terrible..." She looks to the floor for a second, contemplating what else to say. But then, she looks back up at me, her eyes watering. "And it's only going to get worse, I-I think. But we can get through it...right?"

My face twitches into a smile. "Probably not, but we'll damn well try!"

She doesn't respond to that, but the smile on her face says it all. We'll try. The Games aren't meant for people like us, but that doesn't mean we'll just give up. I'm not an overly optimistic person; I'm not going to kid myself into thinking everything will work out. I'm honest to a fault, maybe, but that's just who am I am.

I'll try to win the Hunger Games. The odds are completely against me, but...but maybe I'll be the first. Maybe I'll be the first guy from District Twelve to win the Hunger Games! But first, you'll have to survive the Bloodbath—and Panem knows that's never happened yet.

Shaking those thoughts outta my head, I grin at Isabel, my mood once again chip.

Until Vincio has to open his mouth again. "Hey, District Twelve!" He says, loudly, causing everyone to focus on us. I realize just know that we're the only two tributes not in the cafeteria yet. "What's the hold up? You can stand like that during the Bloodbath, but when I say to go to the cafeteria, you go to the cafeteria."

Isabel looks straight to the ground, blushing. She mumbles an apology, hurrying to the cafeteria—but I stare straight at Vincio, not backing down. I'm not a rebellious person; being a normal teenage boy, I've obviously gotten in trouble with teachers here and there, but nothing serious. This, though, is serious.

I don't hate everyone from the Capitol. I mean, it's not like the regular citizens specifically have the power to put us in the Games. It's the ones with power that I despise—like Nerva, and President Kronin, and the old twisted Gamemaker that stares at everyone as we train.

And Vincio. I hate Vincio. Every time he picks on Isabel and I, my cheery smile vanishes, and an intense loathing bottles up in the pit of my stomach. And I have to let it out. I wouldn't be me if I didn't stick up for myself.

"Why're you such a bully?" I ground out, clenching my fists. "Just because you're this big bad trainer from the Capitol doesn't make you any better than me." As soon as the words leave my mouth, the entire room goes quiet. Even the chatty tributes from District Two stop to look at what's going on. In the corner of my eye, I see Isabel watching intently, silently pleading me to stop.

And maybe I should. Dammit, I'm gaining too much bad attention, and I really don't want to be targeted during my time in the Games. I'm just so impulsive sometimes, damn—!

"What did you just say?" Vincio demands, and it's now I realize that I'm not gonna be able to just silently relent. "Apologize, Twelve, or the Bloodbath won't be your only problem." There's a few chuckles at his little joke, but not a smile crosses my face.

"You have no right to just discriminate against Isabel and I just because we're from Twelve!" I yell, taking a few threatening steps forward. I'm angry, so angry that I could just blow. "So what if we're the least populated? So what if our tributes haven't yet survived longer than a few minutes? We'll survive—and when one of us wins, you'll be sorry."

If Adina could see me now, yelling at this douche, she'd have broken down in a fit of giggles. As I said, I may be one to get angry easily, but I'm not one to regularly yell at adults. This adult, though, isn't the regular teacher from Twelve.

I shove past Vincio, ignoring his rippling muscles. If he wanted, right now, he could bend me like a stick. But thankfully, he just lets me go right on by, an amused look on his greasy face.

"Now that's a tribute," I hear him mumble, before he starts to laugh. "Don't lose that fire, Twelve, and I may just be as sorry as you think I'll be."

I ignore the man, picking up a tray and letting the Capitol lady put various foods on it. The entire cafeteria is still silent as I walk my way to sit with Isabel, and I feel my face heat up after a while. Why is everyone still looking at me? As I sit down, though, a bit of laughter comes from the table occupied by the two from Two, the girl from One, and the boy from Nine—and just like that, the thick feeling in the air vanishes, and the cafeteria is once again filled with mild chatter.

Isabel doesn't say anything, her eyes focused on the plate in front of her. I don't even look at my food, debunking another District Twelve stereotype that we'd all go crazy for some food. I mean, some probably would—but what else can you expect? A lot of us are homeless, living out in the streets. Unlike them, I was lucky enough to be born in the richer side. I grew up wanting to help the various homeless kids and adults, but I didn't...because there just wasn't anything I could do.

Looking back at it, there probably was something I could do to help. My parents aren't home very often; maybe I could have snuck them out some food once in a while. Maybe. Now that I'm here, though, I can't do anything.

Except try to survive. Try.

"This sucks," I grumble, picking at the colorful lunch with my fork. After all that mess that just happened, I'm not nearly as hungry as I was. Looking up at my District Partner, I see that she hasn't touched any of her food either. "I'm sorry, Isabel. I just don't like when people..."

"It's okay. I understand." Isabel still doesn't look up at me, but the fact that she understands makes me feel a whole lot better. I thought my impulsive desire to defend myself ruined this alliance—or worse, ruined this friendship. But no, everything is good. Good.

The anger and dread quickly washing away, I grin, bringing some macaroni and cheese to my mouth. Just like that, I go from angry to happy. That's just how I am. I'm an emotional person, but there's nothing wrong with that.

"Anyway, I think we should definitely get an alliance, Isabel," I tell her. She looks up at me this time, her eyes wide.

"Huh?"

"Don't you think that's a good idea?" I ask, taking a bite out of a piece of chicken. I motion my hands towards the other tributes, a lot of them sitting together and chatting. It reminds me of how I was with my friends back in Twelve. Always laughing, always hanging out—it was the good life, the best life.

I want that again, even if it'll be illusory, even if it'll tear apart the moment we enter the Arena.

"So what do you say? Do you think we should seek someone out tomorrow, or what?" I take a sip of juice, licking my lips when I put the cup back down. "I really want someone else, but I do want you to still be happy. So..."

"Oh! Um, y-yeah, that's okay." She smiles back at me, taking a sip out of her own cup. "Numbers are important, right? I think you're totally right..."

I laugh, standing up from my seat. "Awesome! But, umm, who will we even choose? I'd like someone that's nice, but..." I look around at the tributes who're still here and eating, though most of them are gone. There's that big alliance still here, the two from Three and the two from Seven, but I don't really want to be in something that big. The other big alliance that's still here is the pair from Four, the boy from Six, and the girl from Eight...but just like the one prior, it's too big.

Are there any other people left? I'd like to at least know who we're going to try and recruit before tomorrow, but it doesn't seem like that's going to be possible. I should've thought about recruiting someone else earlier—but hey, I'm a teenage boy, and procrastination is basically in my blood.

I look back at Isabel, about to break the news that we'll have to search long and hard tomorrow—but then, I notice the black-haired guy sitting by himself, slowly eating with a downtrodden expression on his face. He's the District Ten guy, right? I don't remember him much from the Reapings...but hey! He's alone!

"Him, Isabel!" I exclaim, pointing at the guy while rushing over towards him. My District Partner makes a noise of confusion, but follows me anyway. When the District Ten guy notices me, his face lights up in confusion and mild terror. "Hi! I'm—uh, well I know this is really sudden—but I'm Eion Daltier, and this is Isabel Abriani. We just noticed you sitting here alone, and...and we were wondering if you wanted to be allies?"

Suddenly, I feel extremely awkward, like I just said something insanely dumb. Is this how you ask someone to work together in a fight to the death? And what if this guy isn't who I think he'll be? He looks nice, and I'm usually a good judge of character...but...

The District Ten boy looks at me in shock, before slowly looking at Isabel, who gives him a sweet smile. He blushes, looks backs at me, and seems to blush even harder. Shy much?

"I..." He stumbles over his words a bit, before he looks to the table. "An alliance..? I'd...really like to be in an alliance." And then he smiles, the kind of genuine smile that tells me we've hit the jackpot. "I'm Ricky Laris...by the way."

"That's great!" I laugh, the awkwardness rolling off in waves. It was irrational of me to be worried, I guess. In the end, we're all teenagers here. We're all so very alike in so many ways.

We don't deserve this. None of us deserves to be in this place. The Hunger Games are cruel, evil. I hate the Games. But sadly, I know it'll never go away. The Capitol will continue to kill kids, every year...

But maybe, one day, something might change. I might not be a bundle of optimistic joy, but I'm still a good guy. I still want for there to be a change, even if it might take decades. I'd like that, at least.

I'd like that a lot.

Author's Notes: Hey guys! I know, this took extremely long. But I was really busy, and it took nearly everything in me to try and update. So yeah, I'm sorry about that. But here it is! Training Day Two! I really hope it wasn't too bad. ^_^|||

Congratulations to Kostos Sylett for winning 1st place in the poll! Yay! The other results are on my profile, so go check it out! :D

Once again, I'm really thankful for all the reviews I get. Getting 103 reviews is just wow. I'm so, SO very grateful. It keeps me writing, you know? But I'm sure you guys have heard this exact same thing from 10,000 other writers xD But again, thank you all so much, and I hope I can continue getting more and more!

As I said last chapter, all alliances formed in this chapter will eventually be added to the blog. So go check it out if you need to, okay?

What are your thoughts on each of these tributes? Which POV was your favorite and why? Which POV was your least favorite and why?

It's the second day of training, and the Careers have started to bully the other tributes, including yourself. What do you do? Do you take the bullying, in hopes that they'll eventually leave you alone? Do you fight back, knowing that you're painting a huge target on your back? Would you do anything else?

So yeah, that's it for this chapter. Next chapter will be Training Day Three, not involving the Gamemaker Sessions. I hope you're excited, because I'm excited!

Bai!