I was dreading this day, but it's come. Today we start the training. This was the day where I get to meet the other tributes, and see how infinitely better they are then me. Luckily, I'm supposed to stay by Laurens's side the whole time. I chewed on the inside of my cheek the entire trip down the elevator. I'd felt the metal taste of blood in my mouth for ages that I can't even remember what normal saliva tastes like. Only just when the doors are about to open is when I feel the pain in my cheek. It's like being stabbed with 1000 scorching knives, except I felt like those knives might be a reality I'd have to face soon. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second and walked out of the elevator with John. The tributes from District 5 were here, and also six others that I can't remember what district they're from.

I unconsciously grab Laurens's hand, and we started towards the camouflage table. One other tribute was there. He had dark skin, wide, broad shoulders, and a gray beanie placed on his head. His hand was covered in a glob of leaves that in no way would ever help anything blend in with their surroundings. I walked right up next to him while Laurens slowly trailed behind me, looking quite intimidated by all of the weapons on the other side of the room.

He looked down at me and said with a grin, "Hercules Mulligan. District 8."

I smiled back and said, "My name is Alexander Hamilton, and this is John Laurens," he grabbed John's hand again and wrapped his arm around his shoulder (a bro hug), "District 12 tributes."

"The other guy in my District- who's only 12, by the way -Timothy over there," Hercules pointed to a boy who looked a lot like Hercules, except for the fact that he was no taller than 5 feet, "doesn't really know that he's here to learn skills, not show off how amazing he is at tying a freaking knot."

Laurens chuckled and said, "You yourself may not be learning much," he pointed at the blob on Hercules's hand.

"Alas!" Hercules cried, "It talks!"

John blushed and said, "You may not want to put red and green leaves on your hand at the same time, just common sense."

"But my dearest Laurens!" I pleaded, "He will never learn without his mistakes!"

I could've sworn Laurens blushed harder at his nickname, but it might have just been my hopes getting up.

"Why don't you show me how it's done, then?" Hercules asked with a smirk.

"I will," John replied with the same grin plastered on his face.

He laid some light brown leaves onto his hand and picked up some mud, blending the colors and covering any bits of his skin. He added more and more leaves until his whole hand up until his forearm looked like something right off the ground.

"Whoa," Hercules mumbled, staring at John's 3-minute work of art.

"I can do better," John mumbled, "This table doesn't have all the supplies that you'd find in the wilderness."

"You can do better? This is awesome, Laurens!" I cried, picking up his hand, examining the intricate details. I leaf fell off while I brushed my hand over the top of his, but the rest of the leaves were staying on his skin.

"Let's do something else," John said, "Hercules, wanna come with us?"

"I don't see why not," Hercules said, shrugging.

"How about," John spun in a circle with his eyes closed and his arm pointed out. When he stopped spinning, it landed on, "archery!"

"Sure," Herc and I said simultaneously.

I picked up a bow, surprised by its heavy weight. I hoisted it up, put an arrow in, pulled the string thing back, and let go. The arrow fell to the ground right in front of me, nowhere near the dummy targets.

John giggled and said, "That's not how you do it."

"Then why don't you show me?" I asked, a smile creeping on my face.

"I will," He responded. He shifted his body so he was perpendicular to the target, his feet shoulder width apart. He placed the arrow in a notch in the bow and used three fingers to pull back on the string. He raised the bow up and let go.

The arrow almost hit Herc's face.

"Hey man," Herc cried, "What are you doing!"

"Shooting with this, duh!" Laurens replied, holding the bow up.

"You almost hit me!"

"But that wouldn't have happened if your face was right next to the target!"

Hercules turned around and gasped. The arrow was right next to him. John had gotten a bullseye.

"How'd you do that?" I asked immediately, face full of belief and disbelief at the same time.

"I learned it at home," John said smugly, "Picked up a bow and arrow and shot my dad right in the face."

I knew John's dad had been abusive, but not Hercules.

"WHAT?" Herc screeched.

"Oh my gosh! I'm just kidding!" Laurens said with a laugh, "There's a manual right here." He lifted up two sheets of paper on the table with bows and quivers.

"Oh," I said sheepishly, blushing. Sheepishly? I asked myself, since when was I sheepish,

John blushed, too. "It was just a lucky shot."

I could've sworn I heard Herc cough into his shoulder, "Sexual tension," but it might've just been my mind.

After spending half an hour working with archery, I was pretty good, but John was fantastic. And Herc, well, he was Herc.

We walked over to the weights, but Herc muttered, "Guys, let's skip this for now."

With that, we continued walking around. We stopped at the fishing station for a few minutes where a girl with pale skin and black hair kept on cutting herself with a hook. Our crew (Herc, John, and myself) learned a few things, but we didn't think that they'd be substantial in the arena. When we were making our way to the fire, we bumped into a guy a bit taller than us, who must've been at least 16. He had dark skin and black hair pulled up into a bun. There was stubble dotting his chin and a content expression on his face.

"Bonjour!" He said, looking up from the ground, "Je m'apelle Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Rock Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. Or ya know, just Laf."

Laf grinned at the surprised expressions on our faces, but I grounded myself and replied to him.

"Bonjour, Laf. Je suis Alexander Hamilton du District 12, de même que John Laurens ici. C'est Hercules Mulligan du District 8. (Hey, Laf. I'm Alexander Hamilton from District 12, and so is John Laurens here. This is Hercules Mulligan from District 8.)" Laf's face lit up as I spoke this in French, and he started bombing me with questions, all in French.

"Woah! Calm down!" I said, laughing, "The three of us were just about to make a fire, wanna join?"

"Sure, why not!" Laf replied, tagging along with us.

We quickly built a fire, but only after Herc accidentally set Laf's arm on fire. After a stifled squeak, John literally jumped a gallon of water on Laf's arm. He thanked John and we continued with our fire.

We met a few other people along the way around the training site. There was Maria, who looked around 14 and was very stiff and thin. Another girl, Martha Dandridge, also paused what she was doing just to give us a friendly hello. A boy, John Church, who must've been around 18, looked very unhappy to be here and was chucking weights at a target. Aaron Burr had been trying to figure out which way a spear is supposed to be held. James Madison looked a lot like Herc but seemed much more calm.

At the end of the day, John seemed to be really good at camoflauge and archery, Herc was pretty good at starting fires, Laf was surprisingly good at climbing and fistfighting. But all that I could do was dodge attacks and run away, nothing to actually survive with. I didn't have any tricks for offense.

As John and I got in an elevator together, I had only one thought. Give me something to live for.

Once I finished this chapter to start editing it, I realized that half of the first half of the story was written in present tense and the rest was written in past tense. This is usually one of the things I accidentally miss while editing, so please tell me if I missed a spot in this chapter!