Four

I'm awoken again by the sound of quick raps on my door. I groan slightly, digging my way further under the covers. If I ignore it, maybe it will go away. My thoughts are fruitless, of course. Spella snaps at me through the door. Grumbling back at her sourly, I push away the covers. Stupid Spella. Stupid Capitol. Stupid lack of sleep. I dress simply, carefully choosing my outfit. Today is when training starts, and I want to make an impression on the other tributes. Show them that they can't count me out of these Games.

I pick out a bright scarlet shirt and a pair of simple black shorts, pulling my hair up into a high ponytail and letting my bangs fall into my eyes. Perfect, I assure myself with a smile. The girl staring back at me is confident, sure of herself. I scan her face carefully for any similarities to the broken, crying girl who said goodbye to her family. There is none, I think a thousand times.

I lace up a pair of white sneakers and greet Spella at the door. She looks over me and nods her head in almost surprised approval, beckoning me towards the dining room where a bountiful breakfast has been lain out for us. The anxiety is starting to wash away my confidence now, and I fork at my food even though I'm quite hungry. I look up and Sessile is staring at me.

"Go on then, eat. You'll need your energy." Her voice is surprisingly gruff, and I realize this is the first time I've really heard it for more than a few words. Naman, sitting next to me, nods. He's put a sizable dent in his food, but he shares my nervous look. Carefully, I swallow a bit of brownish grain. It's good, although my jaws struggle to chew it. Sessile keeps studying me, however, which makes my stomach contract slightly. I finally put my spoon down at look at her.

"What's our strategy for training?" I ask. So far, Sessile hasn't had much to mentor us on. She pauses for a while.

"Lay low. Don't try and show off." I blush when she looks at me rather accusingly. "Don't let the other tributes see what you're best at. Save it for the last day. Got it?"

Naman and I nod. The advice makes sense, but it will be so tempting. I picture the training floor—sharp new knives, long, gleaming swords… which I've used before. Sometimes when we're out chopping, a squirrel or rabbit will run by. If I can, I'll kill it. Meat is meat, after all, and food is pricey.

And they'll certainly have axes, which I've been wielding since I was six. But of course, Sessile knows what she's talking about. Spella has had the good grace to stay silent until now, but she mumbles something disapproving under her breath. Sessile looks at her for a few seconds, and Spella cringes under her hostile eyes. No one feels like eating after that, so more silent people in nice clothes take away their food. Something comes back to me now—my father telling me about them. Be careful, Sola. If the wrong person catches you in the woods with those knives, you'll be turned into an Avox. They'll cut your tongue right out.

My appetite diminishes even faster after the memory, and I study a young girl's face as she changes the tablecloth, wondering what crime she committed to deserve this.

Sessile takes Naman and I to the elevator and pushes one of the ground floor buttons. She waves once and then we glide smoothly downward. Still, my stomach rises into my throat. The elevator makes me feel oddly trapped this morning, and I only exhale when the doors have opened again. We're in a large, carpeted room filled with equipment of all kind—spears, maces, swords, dummies, weights, knives, plus a few other things I have no name for. A burly woman comes over to us, pinning beige cloth squares onto our backs that read: '7' in thick black paint. My eyes are busy taking in the tributes all around the room.

Towards the more dangerous weapons are obviously the career pack. I pick out the strongest one almost immediately—a huge, well-muscled boy named Mutilus, I think. The other careers are gathering around him and his district partner, boasting and trying to win his attention. He glares at all of them indifferently. The girl waves them away with a smirk—even she has muscles, probably a good 50 pounds heavier than me. These two are obviously the ones to beat. There's another large boy from 12, but he's with a skinny blonde girl who I figure to be his district partner. The boy from 11 looks... frightened. I tilt my head in confusion, but my eyes are still absorbing the room.

Most of the twelve year-olds stand in the corners alone, eyes wide as they watch the careers. I glance away quickly--how can I stand to look at them, when I know they must die so that I can survive? My gaze floats around, taking in the others, until the burly woman announces that we may begin.

Remembering Sessile's words, I travel over to the spear throwing station. The instructor is kind enough, giving me pointers on my grip and arm movement. Within an hour or so, I can easily spear the dummy from ten feet, although the Career boy beside me takes one's head off from at least 25. I notice the Gamemakers wandering around, pointing at certain tributes and taking notes. I look down when one of them glances at my station. I don't really want them to see me in comparison with the Careers. Fairly happy with my spear throwing, I move on to knot tying, and then the edible plants station. I've been in the woods often enough to know most, so I've just finished when we're called to lunch a few minutes later.

The dining room is identical to the ones on our separate floors, if a little larger. I take a deep breath to steady myself, and notice that Naman is making pleasant conversation with the girl from District 3. They laugh. My cheeks burn slightly, and I decide to sit down at the other table. Not even noticing the people around me, I stab a broccoli angrily. Why should I even care? They'll be hacking away at each other in a few days. Besides, it's not like Naman and I… I quickly stop my thoughts there, because my brain should never go that far. I flinch when my shoulder gets tapped, jumping in my seat slightly. Swiveling around, I see the girl from District 4 looking at me curiously. This must be the Career pack's table. I grumble something, about to get up, when she grins at me, eyebrow raised.

No, this is not normal for the Careers. They're brutes, interested only in their own well fare. They always form a large alliance at the start of the games, dividing up most of the items in the Cornucopia after the bloodbath. They turn on each other when there's just a few players left. I study the girl carefully, vaguely recalling her at the reaping. She had a little brother, I think, about ten. She senses that I'm thinking about her, I'm pretty sure, because she speaks.

"Kaia." She holds out a hand. I shake it without hesitation, responding with my own name.

We exchange little bits of information on ourselves through lunch, although we're not the most talkative pair. She's the same age as me. Back home, she works on a fishing boat with her father. She has a cat. Kaia doesn't mention her Career training, though.

Fishing. Cats. This is probably the closest we get to conversation. I suppose it's harder to kill people you know, so neither of us breach any important subjects. The burly woman, Atalantia, enters the room again to inform us that lunch is over. The tributes file back into the training room in District order.

I visit a few more stations. Camouflage, Snare-making. I make sure to spend my sweet time at each, thoroughly learning the skills the instructors have to offer. By the end of the day, my brain is struggling to maintain all the new information.

The next day follows similarly to the first. Kaia and I keep ending up at stations together, since I'm quickly running out of non-weapon related stops. I leave one after watching her spear a dummy in the chest from at least 30 feet with a trident, the hair on the back of my neck standing up straight. Not really having a choice, I go to the sword and knife station. It's so tempting to show off, since this is one of the only things I have a bit of skill in, and especially with all the Careers around. But I let the instructor teach me things I already know. My eyes catch the blonde girl from District 3 next to me as she tears away at a dummy viciously with a hooked sword.

I flinch. Never underestimate your enemies. Slashing at the target cleanly, I ask the instructor nicely for more advice. The throwing knives are so thin and sharp; I can't help but use them. I stop when the instructor looks at me suspiciously, since all the knives have landed on target. I blush slightly, because it's sheer luck and I normally have aim that's over par. It's painfully boring trying to stay under the radar, but I waste a few hours practicing. I can't help picking up an axe, though. Throwing it towards the dummy, I find that it sticks in the belly. Good. This is what I need in the arena. Lunch follows my axe-throwing, and I grind my teeth at Naman and blonde-girl sitting together again. Kaia and I chitchat a little, although it's clear that I'm distracted. She's nice enough not to ask.

Moving on, I spend a while at the fire-starting station. After two agonizing hours, I think I've mastered how to start a fire without wood, as long as I can find flint and dry grass in the arena. I spend a while with the instructor at the bow and arrow station. Perhaps, if I can't get my hands on some knives and an axe, they could be a substitute. I notice a boy next to me, probably my age, as he shoots one of the dummies from a sizeable distance. I raise my eyebrows in approval. Hunting district? He catches my eye and winks at me, and I blush slightly. Thankfully, he's already turned around and is heading towards the spear station. Before I know it, we are dismissed to our respective floors.

The third day arrives, and I find myself constantly watching the strange boy. I visit all the weapon stations now, watching anxiously as the Career tributes outshine us all. I learn the boy's name, Kolt, when an instructor asks it. The morning passes quickly, and I find myself sitting next to him at lunch. We wolf down our food, not speaking. After a few minutes, my eyes find Kaia, who looks fairly bored with the other Careers. They're all talking and laughing loudly, excluding the rest of us. Her eyes catch mine, and hers light up hopefully. I get up to join her when Kolt finally speaks.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asks. I turn my head to look at him.

"I don't know. The other table?" I reply. He grins at me.

"Well that's kind of rude." He retorts, patting my chair. I sit back down, slightly confused.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask, stabbing a noodle with my fork. Kolt looks at me, still grinning.

"Do you want to stay? You sat back down, after all." Kolt points out. I feel the blood rising to my cheeks angrily, my eye twitching. I glare at Kolt for a while as his grin grows, and I can't help but notice that he is kind of attractive. Messy black hair, pale skin… I literally shake my head to clear away the thought, standing up and walking away. Kolt shrugs, looking pleased. I've met people like him before--annoying boys who poke fun to get reactions. Typical. Kaia's looking at him when I huff loudly, dropping into a chair.

"Who's that?" She asks. Grunting, I shove a strand of loose hair behind my ear, face red.

"You don't want to meet him." I assure her. Kaia looks at Kolt, leaning forward.

"Huh." She narrows her eyes but says nothing more.

I spend the remainder of the day floating around the stations, reviewing skills as best I can. Atalantia blows her whistle, signaling that the day is over. Naman and I are silent as we take the elevator back to the 12th floor. I grind my teeth, tapping my foot impatiently. My body feels tired, and I would like nothing more than to fall asleep.

The elevator dings and the doors open, revealing the hallway. I barely stay awake through dinner, some delicious meat in a thick stew. When it's over I gratefully head into my room, locking the door behind me. Stepping into the shower, I study the huge panel of buttons. There's at least a hundred. I push one experimentally and a burst of purple liquid rains down from the showerhead, coating my body in a thin slime. Disgusted, I turn the regular knob and let the warm water wash away the coating in large, gelatinous chunks. I decide not to push any more buttons, standing in the shower and watching the purple goop swirl down the drain with loud slurping noises.

Getting out, I let the hot current dry my hair and put on sleeping clothes—a fleecy white shirt and thick padded grey pants. I settle into the bed, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts flow into my mind—what am I going to show the Gamemakers tomorrow? A good score is crucial to my well fare in the arena. I'm good with knives, since I've been around them since I was ten, but am I good enough to make a decent impression? I toss and turn for a few minutes before I stand up and walk along the hall quietly. I make my way to a door and open it to a gust of sharp air.

Cautiously, I go up the staircase to find myself on the roof of the training center. Bright lights cast a faint glow upon the roof, although they must be a couple miles below us. A faint wind carries a sharp metallic scent, but I'm grateful for the air anyway. I lower myself carefully and watch over the fence as the Capitol moves below. It takes a while until I see the figure, so still as she stands in the corner overlooking the streets. Shaking slightly from the chilly wind, I rise and walk over to her. In the dim light, I recognize Sessile's ruined face. There's a long silence as we look down at the city.

"How'd training go?" Sessile asks.

"Okay." I answer softly. "What do you think I should so the Gamemakers?" Sessile pauses and sighs heavily. For the first time, I take a good look at her. There are prominent dark circles cutting holes in her pale skin.

"You seem pretty handy with those knives. Pretty scary with an axe." She answers. I snort.

"That doesn't seem like it'll impress them." I counter. Sessile shrugs.

"Honestly, Sola, you can stand to get a half-decent score. The victor last year only had a four." She grins weakly at me. "Besides, I know how to get sponsors."

The words are a bit calming, although I still want to get a high score. Maybe because of Kaia and Kolt, who, I am sure, will get 9s or 10s. I puff my cheeks in frustration and exhale slowly.

"I suppose." I mutter. Sessile shifts so that she's no longer leaning against the balcony.

"I think I know what your problem is. You're an impresser. I had a terrible boy like that a few years back." She shakes her head. "You always want to please people, even if you know it doesn't matter."

My cheeks flush, but I don't argue. She's right, however much I dislike it. I sigh, pulling down on my shirt. Sessile falls back into her normal silence, and I stare absently at the tall buildings and tiny ant-like people. It's strange, being here with a person I barely know, but the silence is not awkward. Rather comforting, actually, letting my brain rest. Sessile's right about the scores, I think, drilling it into my head. I stand there, contemplating, until my thoughts become fuzzy. Saying a quiet goodbye to Sessile, I head back to my room. Layering on the thick covers, I allow myself comforting thoughts.

I picture Reden and my father as we sit at home. What would it have been like, that celebration dinner after the reaping? I'm sure they're all mourning me; dreading the full coverage of my possibly gruesome death. I hope they will cover their eyes. Before long I can feel the warmth of tears slipping down my cheeks, and I bury my head into my pillow and sob for a while.

-x-

The usual wake-up call greets me, Spella's impatient raps on my door. My whole body feels dense and heavy from my rooftop outing, and I groan at her to go away, only half conscious. She keeps on rapping on the door, and I finally scream at her to go away. That does it, I'm fairly sure, because I ear snappy heels clomping down the hallway angrily. Good, I think grouchily. I pick out new clothes—dark brown shorts and a short-sleeved white shirt, with my hair in its now-customary ponytail. Breakfast is waiting in the dining room, the usual spread with elegant glasses of juice and mugs of some sweet-smelling liquid I don't recognize. I find that I'm actually pleased when I see Kai and Vulso sitting with us as well. Naman is drinking from a mug thirstily, so I pick one up and swish it cautiously, peering inside.

"Hot chocolate." Naman tells me with a small smile. "It's good." Trusting his word, I sip down a small bit of the drink. And another. Then I tip it backwards until the entire mug is drained. It's rich and chocolaty, and I can't believe that I didn't try it before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spella, arms crossed. It's not really in my best interest, so I explain to the whole table that I didn't sleep very well last night due to anxiety. I catch her nod her head in understanding, although I don't think Spella has been in my particular situation. Naman sighs.

"If you think you're in trouble, you're wrong. I have no idea what to show them." He nibbles on his roll. I bite my lip.

"Well, you're strong. That usually wins them over from the get-go, anyway." I say. He shrugs.

"I'm not any psychical marvel like those guys from 2 and 11. Besides, there are a lot more interesting things to show." He answers. Naman took the doubt right out of my thoughts. I can't help but wish that we were like the Careers. That we had been prepared for this—fed well, trained to play up the exact angles that will win sponsors. I despise them, of course, but everyone is a monster in the Hunger Games. In two days, we'll all be like them. But now, Naman and I are just normal. Plain, average kids with nothing particularly great about them. I don't have anything to assure him with. Thankfully, Sessile intrudes on the conversation.

"Don't worry about. Just show them what you've been working on during the group days. The score honestly doesn't matter as long as you can stay alive in the arena." She says. Naman takes a long sip of his drink. Kai and Vulso smile at him reassuringly.

"Besides," Spella says, "They already love you. I can't even count how many people came up to me raving about your costumes." He seems convinced after that, although he just stares at the deep blue tablecloth absently.

I pick at my food, letting myself disconnect completely from the meal. The rare fit I had last night churns around inside my thoughts, and I don't notice that I'm biting down hard on the side of my cheek. I only stop when I taste the salty metallic tang of blood. Whoops.

Spella claps her hands suddenly, looking at her sleek silver wristwatch in worry.

"Oh! You two have to go!" She ushers us out the door hurriedly, practically shoving us into the elevator. I glimpse her dashing back down the hallway as the doors close. You have to admire Spella's ability to run around in high-heels all day. Quiet, subdued-sounding music tinkles out of an unknown source as we descend. I wonder if the elevator is moving more slowly, or if it's just my anxiety prolonging the moment. My palms begin to sweat, and I have to wipe them on my pants at least five times to keep them from getting clammy.

Eventually, we stop. The lunchroom greets my eyes, already filled with the other tributes. Naman and I end up sitting together, since the other spots are taken. This doesn't exactly please me. We both stay silent, watching as first the boy and then girl tributes are called, with about 15 minutes in between. None of them return. My eyes follow Kaia as she gets up and exits the room.

My anxiety grows until I feel a huge lump forming in my throat. The boy from five stands up as the Capitol attendant calls his name. I begin to tap my fingers quickly on the plastic tabletop. A girl from 6 goes. There's a very long pause.

The attendant opens the door and checks her clipboard.

"Naman Wester?" She asks. Naman stands up and follows her out of the room. I'm left alone with my thoughts for what seems like hours. The inside of my mouth begins to bleed again as my heart rate steadily climbs. And then my name is being called, although I don't hear it very well. The attendant leads me down the hallway and towards a plain white door. She wishes me good luck pleasantly, opening the door. I step in and then the door is closed. And I wish it wasn't—I wish I could just run out of the training center and out of the Capitol. I take in the scene before me, eyes wide.

The space resembles the group training room, with various equipment lain out. On a balcony above me, the Gamemakers sit. They're obviously distracted—after hours of watching other tributes, they're distracted. Bored. Only a few are looking at me--actually paying attention to my frozen form. Oh, perfect. Sadly, I realize that there's not a whole lot of hope for a high score. Desperately wishing the knocking in my knees would stop, I head to the weapons.

I start with the spears, managing to skewer the dummies from about 15 feet two times. Smiling to myself shakingly, I move to the bow and arrows. I'm shaking all over now, and the arrows waver from their aim. By the time I look up again, I'm discouraged and angry. Only two or three are paying attention now, a few more have reverted to conversing and looking away.

A bit of rage bubbles inside my chest, and I step over to the large array of knives and swords. My hands shake a bit more, but I'm determined, and the knives hit on target for the most part. Another glance up tells me I've regained a few pairs of eyes.

Saving the best for last, I pick up a heavy bronze axe. It feels comfortable in my hands, though. So normal. Focusing on the dummy about 30 feet away, I raise my arm and then swing it forward. Whoosh! The axe soars through the air and lodges itself deep into the dummy's chest. To my great pleasure, I can hear a few murmurs of approval. I throw a few more until my arm feels like it might throw up. My eyes shoot upward at the balcony, and one of the Gamemakers stands up. She looks very official--blonde hair in a tight ponytail, a clipboard clutched in one arm.

"Thank you, Miss Glade. You may go now." I give a small, awkward bow and walk out of the room, trying to keep the slight spring out of my step. There's another attendant waiting outside the door, who smiles at me and guides me back to the elevator. I tap my foot along with the quiet music, a broad smile spreading across my face.

It's better than I would have hoped! I should have been expecting that some of the Gamemakers would be distracted. But I seemed to have attracted some interest. Perhaps a six or a seven. Plus the attention Naman and I gained during the parade, and then the interview... It could all work out in my favor.

I reach my room and spend around an hour in there, simply planning out my interview. Technically, it's the job of Spella and Sessile to prepare me, but it doesn't hurt to start early.

Late afternoon, Sessile calls me to dinner. The only major thing I've concluded is that my average score could be intentional, like I was purposefully holding back. Besides that, all I have is a growling stomach.

I twirl my fork around inside the meal—thin noodles in a heavy white cream sauce--and take gulping mouthfulls. Perhaps I shouldn't eat so much. It doesn't matter—my insides are too tied up to eat more than half of the delicious smelling food. I see Kai looking at me with concern from her spot, but she doesn't speak. No one does.

It's probably around 9 o'clock when Spella stands up, informing us that the training scores will be coming on shortly. She leads us to a large room filled with plush leather couches and armchairs, topped off with a towering TV. I end up next to Kai, who clicks on the large device.

A huge Capitol seal flashes, accompanied by the anthem of Panem. There's a short introduction by an announcer, and then the pictures appear on the screen. They're simple shots of our real faces, with our names scrolling across the top of the screen. First the boy, then the girl from each District flashes by, the score for each displayed in large black numbers. The scores are from one to twelve—one being incredibly low and twelve being impossibly high.

The girl from District 1 pulls off an impressive 9. Most of the other Careers get 10s or 9s, one an 8. The bronze-haired girl, Violet, gets a surprising 5--or, at least, based on my impression of her. Some of my anxiety is relieved at Kaia's high 9. The tributes from five and six score fairly low.

And then Naman's name is flashing. Eight! The room breaks out in applause. I shut my eyes tight, grinding my teeth in anxiety. But all I hear is more rapturous cheering from the stylists and Sessile, even Spella. I peek my eyes open a crack.

What is it? I can barely tell. I allow my eyelids to flutter away, clearing my vision. And then I see the number on the screen, and my heart stops. Ten! A ten!

Kai pats me on the back. Spella is teary with happiness. That's a Career score! The thought makes me laugh, leaving all the anger and anxiety behind. Perhaps the Gamemakers liked my axes enough for the excellent score. I think back to the high-scorers of the past. I remember one, a girl from District 5, who scored an 11. She was indifferent about it, and fought very well. I think she won. The memory strengthens my good feeling about the score, causing a smile to turn up the corners of my mouth.

I know the Capitol loves a good fighter. That's what the Games are all about, anyway. I don't go too in depth about it, since it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is the score, my score, displayed for all of Panem to see.