Private Sessions / Training Scores.

A Cannon in the Wind;

The Fifth Hunger Games.

Echo Woods, 17;

District Two Female.

I think that I just might hate everyone here.

As I sit here, waiting for that old Gamemaker to start calling us in, I tap my finger against my leg to keep calm. Not out of nervousness—I'm going to get the highest training score, that's pretty obvious—but out of anger. After training for a few measly hours, Vincio ordered us outside of the Training Room and forced us to sit down in these uncomfortable chairs. We're supposed to sit in order of district. So while I'm stuck with the two blondes, Terrance is sitting a few seats behind us.

That's not why I'm angry, though. The District Three brat won't stop tapping her feet on the ground, and it's really annoying me. I've tried giving her the benefit of the doubt—y'know, considering she'll be dead soon—but I just can't take it anymore. How am I supposed to mentally prepare myself with her making so much noise?

"Can you stop?" I demand, my voice cutting through the silence and stabbing the little girl right through her head. The room was pretty much silent, except for Kostos and Adeline whispering here and there, but with my outburst a thick fog has seemed to envelop the area. All eyes are on me.

The District Three girl freezes, before slowly craning her head to look at me. "A-Are you t-talking to me..?"

"Obviously." I glare, my arms crossed. "Stop tapping your foot, or I'll make it the first thing I cut off in the Arena." My words seem to do the trick; quickly nodding and stuttering out an apology, the small girl turns away from me and doesn't move a muscle. Finally. The other tributes are still looking at me, most of them looking in fear, but I couldn't care less about that.

I really think that I hate all twenty-three tributes here, even the ones I haven't had the misfortune of meeting yet. My allies are slowly driving me to the brink of insanity, I can't harm that stuck-up Vesper yet, and the other tributes are just plain annoying and spineless. Besides, hating them makes this entire process easier.

For me to go home, that is.

Because I'm most definitely going back home. There's no doubt in my mind.

"You're so mean, Echo," Kostos says, snickering. I ignore him, staring straight ahead. I'm not going to let him bother me today. If I mess up my private session because of him, I'm going to make sure that he's the first one on my kill-list.

When he realizes that I'm not going to respond, he just shrugs, that content grin on his pale face. Turning around, he starts whispering to Adeline once again. "Have I ever told you how pretty you look in that training suit?"

The District One girl giggles, hiding her blush behind her hands. "Uh, yeah. You told me yesterday, and the day before that."

"Well, I guess I'm saying it again?"

Kostos and Adeline continue chatting, completely oblivious to the other tributes watching and listening. Honestly, they're both such idiots. Adeline couldn't manage a legitimate weapon to save her life—which will be shown to the world soon enough, I assure you. And Kostos, happy-go-lucky Kostos, wouldn't know seriousness if it stabbed him straight through the heart. He's always so nonchalant about everything, as if this is some sort of school trip and his victory is assured.

I almost bark out a laugh at that. As if! Sorry, Kostos, but I'm the one going back can accompany me in a pine box, though.

District Two was home, yeah, but it wasn't much. Besides Reyna, there's no-one in particular that really drives me to bring home the gold. Too many homophobic fucks worried about other people's business rather than their own. I haven't even spoken to my parents in years; after moving out, I cut off all forms of association with them. They didn't give a fuck about me after hearing about me being a lesbian, so why should I care about them?

They didn't even come say goodbye after the Reapings...

But it's not like I cared. Because I truly, honestly don't. All I need is Reyna. After I win these Games, we're going to live happily-ever-after, and nobody's going to mess with us again. So I can't die. I won't die. There's no possible way that I'm going to die.

Suddenly, the intercom sparks on, thankfully bringing me out of my thoughts. If I think too much, I'll start to doubt myself and my decisions, and that's something I can't afford. Not here. Not ever.

"Vesper Quinn, please walk through the double-doors and into the Training Room." A lady with a robotic voice starts speaking, the lack of a Capitol accent extremely noticeable. "I repeat: Vesper Quinn, please walk through the doors and into the Training Room."

I shift in my seat, willing away the annoying nerves. It's finally starting. Time to prove myself to the Capitol, to all of Panem.

The boy from District One rises from his seat, casting a dirty glance at me before walking away. I scowl at his back, clenching and unclenching my fists to keep calm. I hate Vesper. And more-than-likely, I'm going to kill him. I just can't stand his superior attitude, like nobody here is good enough to work with him.

I tried to be a little bit polite. Honestly, I did. When I walked up to the pair from One, I tried to make it clear that I'd at least try to work with them. Kostos obviously wouldn't have shut up about it if I didn't at least introduce myself. So I did. And what happens next? Mr. Quinn gives me the worst attitude, declining my invitation like he has any chance of winning without me.

I'm going to kill him in the Arena. For now, he can walk around like his shit doesn't stink. But when that gong rings, he's the absolute first person I'm going for.

As Vesper walks into the room and starts his session, I notice the anxious behaviors of all the tributes around me. Adeline bites her lip, trying to smile at Kostos as he continues to talk and talk. The District Three girl I snapped at is looking to the floor, playing with her fingers. Hell, even Terrance has an expression on his face that's more serious than he usually is. And if there's anyone in this room I respect the most, it's him.

Well, I can't be like them. I sit up straighter, tapping my thigh more and more. I'm different than them. They're nothing but small hurdles for me to jump over. Cockroaches for me to step on. Rebels for me to execute.

That's it, they're rebels. I may be a tribute right now, but I'm a Peacekeeper at heart. And the number one rule that we're supposed to learn before we even think of joining is that all rebels must be eliminated. Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe that's why someone like me was Reaped. To eliminate these spineless rebels.

I don't particularly want to be here, but I'm loyal to the Capitol. And if they need me to kill a couple of kids to prove my worth to them, then I'll do it. A thousand times over.

Minutes pass, and Vesper Quinn walks out of the Training Room, looking as pissed as ever. He doesn't even acknowledge me before he stomps his way over to the elevator, jams his number in, and waits for the machine to whisk him away. I almost snort. He must've did poorly. His death will be easier than I thought it'd be.

"Adeline Callard, please walk through the double-doors into the Training Room. I repeat: Adeline Callard, please walk through the doors into the Training Room."

The District One girl gets up, smoothing the invisible wrinkles in her suit. Before she walks away, she turns and gives both Kostos and I a smile. I ignore the gesture, looking straight ahead, while Kostos grins right back and gives her a thumbs-up. It's pointless, though. Adeline is going to score low—lower than low—and she's going to die. It's amazing how easily I can tell the future.

She walks into the room, and comes back out minutes later. Her face is flushed, and it's obvious she's trying to hold in her panting. Whatever she did in there, she obviously tried hard. But not hard enough. I can tell from the way she's frowning that she messed up with something, or didn't do as good as she wanted. But what can she expect? She's only in this alliance because the Capitol people are surprisingly shallow and will sponsor just about anyone with wonderful blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. She's only with us to flutter her eyelashes and look pretty.

...And hardly does she do too much of a good job with that.

"Kostos Sylett, please walk through the double-doors into the Training Room. I repeat: Kostos Sylett, please walk through the doors into the Training Room."

"Well, I can't refuse a request from such a wonderfully-sounding lady." My District Partner grins, standing up from his seat. "The emotion you exhibit is almost overwhelming." I roll my eyes, watching as he walks through the doors into the large room. He's such an idiot. More and more, I find myself wishing that the Games would hurry up and start, so that I won't have to deal with his stupidity anymore.

You're next. The thought suddenly hits me, like a bag of bricks being swung upon my head. For a moment, I'm wondering whether I should have practiced more, or whether I should have learned how to use a new weapon as well. But then, that thought is gone, thrown away as to never be seen again. I'm ready. I'm more ready than anyone in this entire room. I'm the most prepared girl here.

I'm going to get the highest score. I'm going to make the Capitol understand that I can be their Victor, that I'm the only one that can be their Victor.

Kostos suddenly walks out, his hands in his pocket and a content smirk on his face. I don't even make eye-contact; before the robotic lady can even call my name, I shoot up from my seat and walk right past my District Partner.

This is only the first step. I'm going to win the Hunger Games. And then, the Capitol will know. District Two will know. The world will know.

Tet Kender, 13;

District Three Male.

Echo Woods walks inside of the Training Room, and it's almost like the tense air dissipates.

With her gone, and the other tributes from One and Two gone, there's a sort of relaxed feeling floating around. It's because they're the real killers, I think, something I realized quite a while ago when I noticed the wary looks the other tributes would give them. I'll need to stay away from them.

The way Echo snapped at Iris earlier just proves my point; she's bad news, and will most likely be the first person to start the bloodshed.

I always wondered how the Hunger Games really worked. They were intimidating, but I was intrigued. Granted, I never had the time to watch one—but there was one question that I always had, a question that nobody in District Three ever wanted to answer for me. How can normal teenagers just be so quick to murder each other? And why? If we were to just choose not to fight, what would the Capitol be able to do?

I wanted to ask Daniel earlier, but I...didn't want him to think bad of me. Maybe it's dumb, and maybe I'll regret it, but I've grown really attached to my older ally. He's kind, and doesn't treat me like I'm incapable. He's even been teaching me things, like how to successfully attack someone with a blade should I get in that situation. I've grown to like him more than I've grown to like anyone back in my entire district; Daniel Church is like the older brother I've never had.

There were older boys in the orphanage I grew up in, but none of them ever piqued my interest like Daniel has. And even when I did find someone who seemed smart enough, I would greet them, but they would just greet me back and nothing else. I was irrelevant. I was just the small, quiet boy who stayed in the corner rather than vociferate my opinions.

I was lonely, I'll admit it. Painfully lonely. Instead of making friends, I chose to create friends. I found discarded scrap metal all throughout my district, and even more unwanted parts just thrown to the side. When I got back to the orphanage each night after a hunt for parts, I would work tirelessly, day and night. And finally, finally, I created him—a small robot by the name of Hex, who would even talk to me and cheer me up when I was feeling especially lonely.

In all of District Three, it was a robot that cared for me. More than anybody else.

Now that I'm here in the Capitol, I thought that Iris was the only person who'd try to befriend me. I thought that, while I'm going to probably die, at least I had just one girl in the world who cared for me. But no, then came Daniel and Calla, who have been the most colorful people I've ever encountered. I care for each and every one of my allies, probably more than I should.

If there's one good thing about the Hunger Games, it's the fact that I met sweet Iris, charming Daniel, and funny Calla. There's no way these Games will be successful. We would never kill each other, and Daniel would never let anyone harm us.

"Tet," Iris whispers, gently pushing my arm. I glance at her, broken right out of my thoughts. "They called you... It's time for your private session."

Oh. I nod, standing up from my seat. I didn't even realize that Echo was finished, nor did I hear the announcement. Taking a breath of fresh air, I walk to the doors, not even acknowledging the two Peacekeepers guarding the place. Why call them Peacekeepers when all I ever see them do is harassing people? Another thing about Panem I just can't bring myself to understand.

I walk through the doors—and automatically, they close behind me. I could make the reaction time two times faster if I was allowed to. I could do so much for the Capitol, so much for Panem in general. They can't... I mean, how can they just throw random kids in the Arena? Don't they know how much we can better the society?

This just doesn't make any sense.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kender," says the lone Gamemaker, sitting on the second floor and watching me from over the ledge. He's an old man, a really old man, and the look in his eyes aren't as happy as I thought it'd be. I mean, don't they like this kind of stuff? "You have five minutes to show me everything you've learned over the past three days. Afterwards, I'll determine your training score, which will be shown live to all of Panem. Training scores directly influence sponsors, young man, so please try your hardest to get the highest score available. Is there any question you'd like to ask before you begin?"

Definitely not happy, I can tell that much by the sound of his voice. But why? I don't normally understand people in general, but these Capitol people are the most mysterious to me. Why do they like the Hunger Games? And why does the Head Gamemaker sound so depressed?

I look around the Training Room, noticing how large and pristine it looks without the other tributes present. These people work so hard to give us the best resources. Why are they killing us if they presumably care so much? Why?

I have so many questions—and right now, I'm going to ask all of them. More than the want of getting a competent training score, I want to know. If I can just understand these people, then maybe my probable death won't leave such a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Why were the Hunger Games invented?" I ask him, focusing on his face. Reading people has never been a specialty of mine, but Daniel has been trying to teach me that skill. He'd be disappointed in me if I didn't even try.

"Oh?" He shifts uncomfortably. Is he planning on lying to me? "Being from District Three, I assumed you of all people would know, Mr. Kender."

I do know, at least I know what I've been told by the teachers back home. The Mayor practically re-informs us every single year with the Treaty of Treason. But I'd like to know what this man says about it. I'd like to know his opinion, his reasoning—everything.

For the first time in my life, I'm able to get the answers I've been craving. I'm not going to waste this opportunity.

"But it's only fair that you understand exactly why you're here," he says, his face intentionally closed off. "The Capitol fed the districts, loved the districts, protected the districts. We did everything for you all...and then all of a sudden, your people initiated a war. We didn't want to fight, but you all forced us. And we won." He exhales, rubbing his temples. "So in punishment for your treason, the Hunger Games were set into action. This is a very simplified version, of course."

"But do you agree with the Hunger Games? Do you enjoy watching us kill each other?"

His eyes suddenly turn sharp, like a fire igniting from the inside. "Mr. Kender, you are not here to ask me pointless questions. I'm going to start the timer now, and you'll have to leave when your time is up, regardless of if you've done anything. And I assure you, nobody is going to sponsor somebody with a 1."

I tilt my head, not exactly caring about my score anymore. If he was like any other Capitolite, he'd have answered with something along the lines of "of course I enjoy the Games!" But no, he avoided my question. Is there something I'm missing? Something I should be catching on to?

"You can start the timer," I respond, and he nods. "But why are training scores so important? If the Hunger Games are a punishment, why would the Capitol be sending the tributes supplies based on a simple number?"

"Mr. Kender," he starts, but I cut him off.

"What's the point of all of this anyway? Chariot rides, training days, interviews..." I gulp, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Why don't you just kill us already? Why are you making everything seem so nice? Why are you giving us the false illusion that training for three days will help us win? You're making the Capitol seem so benevolent, when at the end of the day it's you guys who're forcing us to kill each other."

I should probably stop now. I've said too much, and the tendrils of dread are trying so hard to overcome my spirit. I doubted the Games since day one. I was afraid, but I was doubtful they'd really happen. Kids killing kids... It just seems too evil to be true. But now that I'm talking, now that I'm talking more than I've ever talked in my four days in the Capitol, I can't help but think of the possible outcomes. I could die. Iris, Daniel, Calla... We could all die.

"What are you going to do," I begin, almost whispering, "if we choose not to fight? What are you going to do then?"

I don't want to hear the answer, because all of the false hope and naivety I've gathered over the past few days would just shatter if he says what I think he'll say. Because I know what I'd do if twenty-four kids were stuck in an Arena and chose not to fight. It must be called the Hunger Games for a reason...

I stare at him, and I'm not even half-surprised when I see a single tear slide down his face. I knew it. He doesn't agree with the Games. But that answer just brings more questions. Why do this if he doesn't want to?

"Tet Kender, your time is up."

It's not. While I was talking, I've been counting down the seconds in the back of my mind. I still have over two minutes left. But what does it matter? I turn around, disappointed, getting ready to leave. But for some reason, a foreign feeling flows through my body—and instead of walking out the doors, I head over to the knives. The Gamemaker's eyes follow me the entire way.

"Wouldn't want to get a 1 for not doing anything," I mumble to myself, picking up a random knife and stabbing the clinically white dummy in the head. Fake blood in the form of cotton flows out of it's wound, but I'm not stunned nor surprised.

I turn around, looking the elderly Gamemaker straight in the eye. He doesn't smile, or nod, or do anything. He just stares at me—and then, slowly, he starts tapping on the electronic device in his hands.

"Thank you, Mr. Kender. You may now leave."

This time, I really do turn around to walk out. Once again, I look for answers, but I'm unfortunately turned down. Before I can take my first step outside the door, though, his soft voice carries over to my ears yet again.

"Ask your Escort if you can watch the First Hunger Games. I'm sure there are multiple copies in your room." He coughs. "Maybe after watching it, you'll have less questions than when you came here."

I don't turn around. Instead, a small smile creeps on my face as I continue walking out. Daniel gives me a thumbs-up as I walk past, but I don't care about that. Not right now. Finally, I'm going to get the answers I yearn for.

And maybe even the answers I'll be better off not knowing.

Koda Samuels, 12;

District Eleven Male.

"Is it almost time..?"

"I don't know. Just wait a little longer and you'll see."

...

"What about now? I feel like a good few minutes have passed since I last asked you."

"Koda, it's been twenty seconds. Just wait."

...

I groan, dramatically slamming my face in a nearby pillow. Meeko and I are sitting on the couch, waiting for the TV to turn itself on and announce our scores. Unfortunately, though, it seems to be taking the man longer than I thought. It's already dark outside, so why have we not seen them yet?!

A horrible thought suddenly enters my brain. "Ms. Priscilla, what if we missed them?"

My Escort drops her magazine and lets it fall to the table, the expression on her face a little intimidating. Uh-oh. She's getting angry again, I can tell—and nobody likes an angry Priscilla. I just can't help it, though! All I want is to know what that old man gave me as a training score! I swear, it's taking them so long. I just can't stand it!

"Koda, I am going to ask you one last time," my Escort says, her voice so low that she's almost whispering. "Shut up. Just zip your mouth and don't open it until I tell you to. If you continue to disobey me, I refuse to help you in the Arena."

I frown, looking away from the Capitol lady and to the floor. Can she even do that? Helping me is Priscilla's job, and everyone in District Eleven had to complete their jobs without fail or they'd be whipped. Maybe even killed! Do the same things apply in the Capitol? As much as Priscilla yells at me, I don't want her to get killed.

Just the thought is enough to send gruesome images through my brain. The Hunger Games are in two days, and I am definitely not ready. Usually I'm ready to do anything and everything, practically bouncing on my heels to get started. But this is different. Meeko and I could die.

Shouldn't have been so impulsive. If you hadn't volunteered for Stag, then you wouldn't be here right now. But I had to volunteer for him. The Games are terrifying, but the only thing worse than being Reaped is having one of my loved ones being Reaped. Kovu, Cricket... I don't know what I'd do without them. And when I saw Stag standing on that stage, it's like my legs had moved on their own, my mouth sounding out words by itself.

I don't regret volunteering for Stag. He's the big brother I've never had the fortune of having. Ever since my mom was put in jail and I had to be sent to the orphanage, the only person I could even call apart of my family was Stag. So, no, I don't regret my choice. In Eleven, he's safe. He'll never have to deal with the Hunger Games ever again. He can be with his family for as long as he wants...

Blinking back tears, I continue staring at the floor. Even though I'm scared to death, I don't regret my choice of being here. The thing I regret is having to be here with Meeko, knowing only one of us can truly win. I regret the fact that I...I have to die. I don't want to die. I don't want Meeko to die. I don't want anyone to die.

"Why do we have to fight?" I ask, my voice cracking. "What did we do to deserve this?"

For a good moment, it's completely silent on our floor. The urge to start talking almost overpowers me, but the big hands of depression hold it down. Meeko suddenly places a hand on my leg, gently rubbing, just like she always did back in Eleven. I don't know how she does it, but my District Partner doesn't even have to talk and I'm completely reassured. The future may be a bit rocky, but...we'll get through. We have to.

Sitting over at the dining table, Priscilla just stares at me, her eyes widened. For the first time in forever, she doesn't look like she's mad at me. She looks almost...sad? "Koda, you—"

"And welcome, citizens of the Capitol, citizens of the Districts!" The television abruptly flashes on, cutting my Escort off. Aeliana Devrine—Capitol superstar—flashes the camera one of her pearly white smiles. Her yellow hair isn't hanging to the side like during the Reaping Recaps, but it's as big and vibrant as ever. "Whatever you're doing right now, I advise you to stop. You're definitely not going to want to miss this!"

I wipe my eyes, focusing all of my attention on the screen. For the first time in forever, I'm not moving a muscle. Just staring. The scores! They're finally here!

After the mandatory Capitol Anthem, the screen cuts back to Aeliana. She's sitting in a completely black room, stacks of papers in her hands. She's the one that's going to read out our scores. Priscilla told us that these scores will have a major effect on how everyone sees us, and whether or not we're good enough for people to bother sponsoring us.

I gulp, suddenly not wishing for them to come so soon. What if I didn't do well? What'll happen to me then?

"As you all know, the tributes are rated on a scale of 1 to 12 after three days of careful evaluation," the Capitol lady says, still wearing a perfectly placed smile. "Head Gamemaker Antonius Lavel would like to once again thank every single tribute for their participation. Without you guys, this whole thing couldn't be possible. Way to go!"

Meeko gives me a look. From years and years of living in the orphanage with her, this is all she needs to do to get her feelings across. Really? is what she's thinking. I manage a small grin, shaking my head. These Capitol people do so much to us, yet there's times like this when they want to act friendly and grateful. They're just so confusing.

"With the introductions out of the way, let's begin." Aeliana looks down to the sheet of papers in her hands—and behind her, the mean-looking District One boy just materializes out of thin air! It's not even a picture; he's just standing there, yeah, but every once in a while he'll sigh and cross his arms.

"How do they do that?" I ask my Escort, even though I know she hates for me to ask stuff. Instead of yelling at me, though, she actually opens her mouth to answer.

"The Training Center has cameras everywhere, even in here," she says, shrugging. "Doesn't take much to put video footage in the background. When I was in school, I actually used to want to be a video editor."

"Oh." I stare at the screen, suddenly really excited again. That means they'll have video footage of me, too!

"From District One, Vesper Quinn with a score of..." She blinks. "A score of 2?"

Once again, there's silence in the room. Isn't that...a very low score? But he's eighteen-years-old, and mean! How does someone like him get a score like that? He'd have either had to do really bad or just barely anything at all...

Aeliana quickly gets over her confusion, though, and continues. Behind her, Vesper morphs into the nice-looking District One girl. "From District One, Adeline Callard with a score of 5."

Now that's a good score, or at least good enough for me. If I got a 5, I'd be happy. District Eleven rarely does well with these scores, though, so...

Adeline morphs into the District Two boy. He's grinning, but occasionally he'll just frown. That's...kinda weird. "From District Two, Kostos Sylett with a score of 10!"

Really? A 10?! Wow, I expected good scores from the ones from Two, but I don't think a tribute has ever gotten a 10 before. Even the Victor from last year got a 9, I think. And considering I'm going to be stuck in the Arena with this guy...

"From District Two, Echo Woods with a score of 9."

"The scores from Two are higher than usual," Priscilla comments, eyes sharp. "I think it's pretty obvious, but stay away from them in the Arena. Tributes don't just randomly get high scores, no matter what district they're from..."

I nod, my face a bit hot for some reason. They're dangerous—because they can kill me. Because they can kill Meeko. I don't want that to happen. I really don't want that to happen.

"From District Three, Tet Kender with a score of 5."

Tet got a 5, and he's only one year older than me. What does that mean? Should I be wary, or should I be happy because high scores suddenly aren't so hard to get? Meeko's just staring, and even Priscilla looks a bit confused. I don't know...

"From District Three, Iris Logan with a score of 3."

She's the same age as me, and she got a 3. I don't... I don't know what to think. I tried my hardest to hit as many targets as possible with my slingshot. Shouldn't that count for something? I just... I just want a good score, so that Stag and even my mom won't have to worry about me dying.

"From District Four, Caio Artelle with a score of 5."

I remember seeing him in training, always looking behind his back suspiciously. I thought he'd get higher, but maybe it really is hard to get a good score. I don't know anymore. I want to stay optimistic, but it's so hard.

"From District Four, Ula Dylan with a score of 6."

She's the one who volunteered for her little sister, just like how I volunteered for my big brother. She really does look capable enough to get a 6, but she's eighteen so that's kind of expected? I'm just twelve. I can get a 5, I can.

"From District Five, Michael Riverbee with a score of 3."

O-Or maybe a 4 is a good enough score. That's all I want. A 4. Michael is older than me, but he got a 3? Maybe he just...didn't try hard enough. Yeah, that's it. He just didn't try. I can get a 4. That's all I'm aiming for.

"From District Five, Alexandra Fearn with a score of 4."

This girl doesn't have an alliance, does she? I don't think so. I originally thought that getting more allies would be a good idea, but Meeko was strangely against it. So because of that, it's just us two—and honestly, I'm perfectly fine with that! I feel that I can be myself around Meeko, that I don't have to stop or calm down like how I have to do with Priscilla and every other adult I've come to know. When Meeko's around, I feel safe.

"From District Six, Breno Harmont with a score of 4."

I saw this guy reading about survival and the like more than train with any weapons. I guess a 4 is understandable, but what about me? I trained a lot. I trained my butt off! I should get a good score, right?

"From District Six, Ceres Cantrell with a score of 4."

She's also a bit older than me—but unlike her ally, she got a 4. I feel like I can beat her in a fight, right? I mean, I don't want to ever have to fight...but if I had to...

"From District Seven, Daniel Church with a score of 7."

My eyes widen at this, while Priscilla just nods to herself. I mean, I knew this guy volunteered and all, but I didn't think he'd get that high! Maybe Meeko was right in declining his alliance invitation; what if he randomly attacked us? What would we do?

"From District Seven, Calla Mallow with a score of 5."

And his red-headed District Partner earns a 5—which is great, but not as great as her ally. Still, their alliance has been pretty strong. They may be one of the powerhouses of the Games, or whatever I heard Priscilla say about some of the tributes.

"From District Eight, Zander Engres with a score of 6."

Woah, a 6! How did he get something like that? I seldom saw him during training, so I barely know what to expect from this guy! Just stay away, my brain tells me. But if I end up getting that 4...

"From District Eight, Kaya Vause with a score of 8."

Priscilla gasps at this score, loudly. Even Meeko shifts uncomfortably in her seat. I just stare at the red-headed girl, not believing my eyes. How can she get a score like that? Those scores are for District Two; never have they been for Outer-Districts like us.

Maybe... Maybe I do have a chance?

"From District Nine, Terrance Vallier with a score of 7."

The more these scores go on, the higher they seem to get getting. And it's making me happy! Terrance joined the Pack from District One and Two, so a 7 seems appropriate—but he doesn't look intimidating or strong at all! I can seriously get a good score!

"From District Nine, Toren Ingalls with a score of 5."

She joined up with the District Ten girl yesterday; I saw the entire thing. It was a bit funny, actually, and reminded me of how I was with people back in District Eleven. When I go back home, I'll tell them all about it. If you go back home.

"From District Ten, Ricky Laris with a score of 4."

A 4. Ricky got a 4, and he's eighteen-years-old. He's way older than me. Should I be... Should I be worried? If he got a 4, then what would I get?

"From District Ten, London Tienna with a score of 6."

I don't even register London's high score. As I stare at her blinding grin, the only thing I can think about is how I'm next. I'm next. I'm going to get my score, just like how I earlier wanted. But now... I don't know, I'm just scared. I worked so hard. If I don't get a high score, what'll I do? In the Arena, they'll eat me alive...

"From District Eleven, Koda Samuels with a score of 3."

...No. The silence is almost deafening. I've gotten in trouble a lot, but this feels worse. I haven't just made people angry, but I've disappointed them. A 3. All I wanted was a 4. Why could I have gotten a 4?

Meeko places a hand on my shoulder—but for the first time, I shrug her hand away. I feel like crying. I feel like getting up, running away, and just flat-out crying. Because I'm going to die. I volunteered, and now I'm going to die.

"From District Eleven, Meeko Brighton with a score of 4."

"You got a 4," I say, trying and failing to smile. "Good job, Meeko. You deserve it..." To be completely honest, I'm jealous. I wanted that score. I wanted it so bad. I worked so hard to get a good score. So why didn't I? Why does it feel like I was just...cheated?

"From District Twelve, Eion Daltier with a score of 5."

Priscilla says something, but I tune her out, focusing on the floor once again. That stupid old man gave me a 3. And because of him, Stag probably has no hope for me. In prison, my mom probably has no hope for me. The entirety of District Eleven has no hope for me! I'm dead. Dead, dead, dead.

"From District Twelve, Isabel Abriani with a score of 4."

"Ms. Priscilla," I mumble, looking up at my Escort. She stops mid-sentence, almost scowling at me for interrupting her—but then she sees the tears streaming down my face, and she bites her lips.

"Koda... What is it?"

"What does it feel like to die?"

Author's Notes: Am I proud of this chapter? No. I hate this chapter so much, you have absolutely no idea xD

But yeah, I seriously don't have the time to try and fix it. Exams coming up, my grades are sucky, and I really need to start studying. Not to mention the other homework I have to do. So yeah, life is really tense for me right now. It took everything in me to update tonight, okay? SO PLEASE BE CONSIDERATE WHEN YOU REVIEW HOW OBVIOUSLY RUSHED THIS WAS!

Yeah, anyway. I'm going to be adding training scores to the blog as soon as I can. As for the scores, a LOT of factors were involved when thinking of them. You may be able to think of a few, but yeah, they won't be revealed until later. If your tribute didn't get the score you wanted them to get, though, just pm me and I'll explain just why they got that score. Not changing my decision, but yeah.

(Wow, I sound like a dick. But exhaustion can do that to me xD)

Yeah, I think that's all I have to say about this horrible chapter? Please review, because I seemed to get less than usual last chapter? You've heard this a thousand and one times, but when you review, I get the energy to write. So yeah, I'd love it if you reviewed. Especially if your tribute had a POV this chap.

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

You worked extra hard to get a good Training Score. Really, really hard. When you walk out of the room, you're panting hard and sweating bullets. You tried your absolute best. Later that day, the scores are announced. You get a big fat 1! How do you react? What do you do?

And what are you thoughts on the Training Scores? And standout ones?

Once again, please review!

See you next time with Interview Prep! ^_^

Bai!