The third and final day of training involves the tributes being told to sit still and wait for their private meeting with the gamemakers. This showcase is the last chance to make an impression that contributes to their training score. The score, although completely unexplained, is possibly the single most valuable thing for securing sponsorships.
Celestia had said that the gamemaker in charge of their sponsorships, who still remains nameless and faceless, suggests the two tributes try to score as high as possible. Ezio argued that a low score would make her look more empathetic and suit his image of her best. He doesn't give her any advice, only stating that she shouldn't be disappointed in whatever score she gets. Something in Amber's core wants to prove him wrong.
When she asked York, he suggested Amber avoids a score that would put a target on her back. As he spoke, all she could hear was the echoing of Sterling's voice as the elevator door shut. Watch your back, he had said. That train, the one of not having a target, has definitely left the station.
She considered telling York about what had happened with the Career boys the previous evening but quickly decided against it. If he knew, his blood might completely boil over, and she doesn't need him getting into any trouble because of her. He had begun waiting for Amber to go downstairs after having seen her and Cassius leave the elevator together, even though it meant coping with more of Celestia's nagging. He reminds her too much of Weston. And if Weston knew, Sterling would have no shot at survival. York doesn't owe her that.
That leads her to this moment. Sitting in a narrow room, pondering if it's even possible to do more harm to her situation. Certainly, the answer is yes, but how does a training score factor into that?
Radiance is called into the training room first, then Sterling, who had spent the entire ten minutes of Radiance's session glaring at Cassius. Once a name is called, they don't return.
"Why is he acting so weird?" Elaina asks once Sterling leaves for his assessment.
"How am I supposed to know?" Cassius responded. "I think crazy is just his personality."
They leave soon enough, followed by District Three, and then Brooklyn, the female tribute from District Four. This leaves Ren as the last traditional Career Alliance tribute in the room. Ren, who has been nursing his boredom by rocking in his seat and insistently fidgeting, tries to make small talk with the girl from District Five. He offends her by laughing at her name, Spark, and the conversation dies just as soon as it starts.
He spins in his chair and makes direct eye contact with Amber. Her eyes widen and she thinks he's about to say something, but they're both saved by the sound of his name over the intercom. Amber has never seen a tribute look so relieved to hear their own name be called. When he leaves, a silence is cast over the room.
"Do you know him?" York asks.
"Not really." It doesn't feel like a complete lie. She closes her eyes and waits for her turn. The days move too fast. The arena, whatever it is, too near.
When her name is called, she is slow to stand up. She wishes luck to York, who returns the sentiment. The gamemakers sit in their balcony overhanging the room. It must give a wonderful view of the assessments, but they don't really seem to care, as there is much partying to be had. They're more focused on the food and drink than anything related to the Games.
As Amber makes her way to the middle of the room, a tall woman dressed in white steps to the front of the balcony. She doesn't look like the usual Capitolites. She's missing the aspects of a Capitol woman that would make a District person laugh. There's no strange plastic surgery, feathers, or large gemstones. Instead, she is plain and sleek, matching her intense demeanor. Something about it is even more terrifying. The woman clears her throat, straightens her posture, and speaks into the microphone.
"Amber Clark. Are you familiar with who I am?" The woman asks, her voice slow and steady. The way she peers down at Amber makes her feel faint.
Amber thinks for a second. Does she know who this is? Should she? "No. I'm sorry," she answers.
"My name is Iovita Goldborn." The woman ignores Amber's apology. "I am the Head Gamemaker of the 76th Hunger Games."
She pauses, and Amber wonders if she is supposed to say something. This woman single-handedly holds the fragile string of Amber's life in her hands. Her attention alone made the rest of the crowd stop their gossiping so they could turn and watch the interaction.
"Congratulations," Amber says. "On your promotion."
"You do not have to flatter me," she scoffs. "What you think of me is natural. I have a favorable position, and you, well, need I state the obvious?"
Something about this seems strange. Do Head Gamemakers usually introduce themselves to tributes? Especially those from outer districts? Assessments are supposed to be secret, so there's no way to know. The stunned expressions on her peers' faces tell Amber that this is unusual. "No," Amber responds to her question. "I understand the situation I am in."
"Do you?" Iovita raises a brow. Her smirk and tone of voice are mocking. It reminds Amber of what Gaius had said to her after the Reaping. Start playing the right game. Is this what he meant?
Amber nods her head in response to her question. What is there not to understand?
"Miss Amber Clark," Iovita repeats her name. "Usually for assessments, tributes present a chosen skill to our audience. This has been our system for generations with no exception. But you, I can tell, are no ordinary tribute." Amber furrows her brows. She is, without a doubt, lost on where this is going. "So, I will ask you a simple question."
"A question?" Amber repeats. Her palms begin to sweat. What is she talking about? Is she going to disqualify her? She must know about the fight between Cassius and Sterling. There are cameras everywhere in this place. But Amber had done nothing, so why would she be punished?
"Yes," Iovita says, drawing out the suspense. "I want to know what comes to your mind when you think of the Mockingjay?"
That is the last question Amber is expecting, but it could make her throw up immediately. Did Iovita think Amber had anything to do with the rebellion? If so, she might as well just die right here on the training room floor. They would never let a rebel become a victor. Not after what happened last time.
It takes her a few seconds to organize her thoughts, especially with the crowd of gamemakers staring at her expectantly. "I," Amber twists the bracelet she had received the day of the Reaping around her wrist. "I think the Mockingjay hurt a lot of people." It is true. It genocided District Twelve, it brought small rations during the harsh District Seven winter, and it likely killed the Mockingjay herself. The Mockingjay empowered the district people and then abandoned them.
"It did," Iovita replies. "And who benefitted from this harm?"
"Nobody did. Well, nobody in the districts, at least."
"What about in the Capitol?"
Amber speaks without thinking. "You all got shiny new jobs to replace the last people." She recognizes the words may be offensive, but Iovita doesn't seem like the type to accept a lie.
"Yes, Amber, exactly." Iovita takes another step forward. Amber swallows hard. This woman is the definition of intimidating. "I wanted to take this short moment of time together to assure you of something," Iovita states. "The people who ran the games before were failures. They let a simple-minded district girl expose how foolish they truly are. I will not make the same errors."
"I have never had anything to do with the Mockingjay," Amber tries her best not to interrupt, but the need to clarify this fact is overwhelming.
"Good," Iovita responds. "Then you have nothing to fear." She begins to turn away from the railing of the balcony.
"What am I supposed to do?" Amber asks, desperate to get the question in before she loses Iovita's attention.
The woman shrugs. "Play the games. Provide me with an interesting show. You're dismissed."
"Dismissed?" Amber asks, taking a step forward. Was she serious? A pair of Peacekeepers come to escort her, but she ignores them. "What about my assessment?"
The room of gamemakers has returned to its noise and socializing. They all ignore her. The question is pointless. She had spent hours contemplating what skills to highlight. Now it all feels incredibly childish.
Amber stares at the elevator in the apartment. Celestia and the stylists keep asking how the assessment went, but she ignores them. She paces around the room. She could cry or scream, but she does neither. Instead, she waits.
She halts when the elevator dings, indicating the arrival of York. She meets him at the door.
"So?" Amber asks. "What happened?"
He looks confused. "I displayed my skill," he answers.
The answer mortifies her. So Iovita had singeled her out. This is certainly the end for her.
"Are you okay?" York asks.
"I'm going to score a zero," Amber hides her face between her hands, turns on her heels, and heads straight to her room. "I'm so dead."
Celestia all but drags Amber out of the room when it comes close to the time for scores to be released. Celestia promises that whatever happened, it can't be that bad. Amber refuses to give any additional information.
Amber sits burrowed into the couch with the duvet from her bed wrapped around her so that only her face pokes out. On the screen, Caesar Flickerman interviews Enobaria, one of the few surviving victors. Although he and his cohost pry, she refuses to discuss the current tributes under her wings: District Two.
When the scores come into the station, Caesar's face lights up. He's basically bouncing in his seat, but he leaves the audience in suspense. It's working on York, who leans in close with his fingers clasped together. Amber continues to use her blanket as a shield.
Caesar begins to read, starting with District One and moving down. The information rolls across the screen with a photo of the tribute displayed along the side.
Radiance Sinclair, District One, eight.
Sterling Winslet, District One, ten.
Elaina Bellemore, District Two, nine.
Cassius Wilder, District Two, ten.
All high scores for the volunteer tributes. It confirms that nobody will be disqualified for what happened in the elevator. With each passing District, Amber is more anxious for her own score to arise. The boy from six appears. Then Amber. With a seven. That's not a zero or in the 3-5 range like the other non-Career tributes shown before her. Her mouth falls open.
Celestia squeezes Amber's shoulders, boasting about how she knew Amber could score well, but she is immediately distracted as soon as York appears on the screen. How could she not? He scored a nine, putting him on par with the Career tributes. These scores will get them sponsors. They are the difference between living and dying.
York is on his feet now, and Amber jumps up as well, ditching her blanket. She feels the tears of relief filling her eyes. She had been certain Iovita would sabotage her game, but just maybe, Amber had passed her test. When York goes in for a handshake, she skips right over it and wraps her arms around him in a hug. He accepts.