Family Ties: The 35th Games

At breakfast the next morning, Sean confirms what I've been dreading. "Today you'll be pulled into private sessions," he informs us, and I frown, looking down at my food. I had hoped for more time to practice-- if it was time for private sessions, the day of the Games starting was closing in. "You'll get to go in alone and show the gamemakers what you can do. Focus on what you're good at, and ignore everything else. Don't add any filler," he instructs, eyes ping-ponging between my brother and I. "Light fires. Throw weights around. Whatever you've learned the past few days, and felt good about, show them. They'll assign all the tributes scores tonight. Those scores are important. This is how you get sponsors to pay attention, and having sponsors could be make or break in the arena."

I push my food around on my plate. I haven't been looking forward to today in the slightest. While I've been working hard and practicing, I know I still am leagues behind all the other tributes. I'd probably only get a two or a three-- that's usually what the weak tributes got. Careers always scored high, around 8-10. Tired of feeling sorry for myself, and resigned to the reality I'd get a terrible score, I wondered what Nathan would get. He's big and strong, and he seemed to pick up on some of the stations naturally. I had a feeling he'd do okay.

I can't force myself to eat anymore, so I push my plate away from me. Nathan notices, and pats my shoulder. "You'll be okay. Don't count yourself out yet," he assures me. "Make sure to show them the obstacle course, yeah? You did really well on it. Addalie said you set the second-best time after Breah!"

"Mm, that's news to me," Olivia says with a smile, exchanging a glance with Nathan. They were plotting something-- probably conspiring together to try to cheer me up. "What else can Zania do?"

"She's a whiz at recognizing the edible plants," Nathan answers. "Good with knots. We already knew she was great at starting fires. And I've been watching Georgie teach her how to handle some of the weapons-- she wasn't half bad with the swords." Sean nods slightly in approval.

"You guys can stop that; I know what you're doing," I grumble. "I'll do my best, but I'm not going to be any good. It won't matter-- I'm not even in the same league as the other tributes."

"Don't compare yourself to them, it'll only make you feel worse," Olivia chides gently. "The scores aren't comparative. If someone goes in and does something well, they won't score you lower just because you don't measure up. If you're talented, they'll score you accordingly. So just focus on what you're good at, and tune the rest out."

"Whatever," I grumble brattily. The private sessions looming over me has put me in a mood, and with a need to complain about something else, I say, "Why hasn't Kera dragged me away yet? I thought I was dull and boring. Don't I need to be fixed before the gamemakers can even look at me?"

Olivia gives me a worried glance, and Palana replies, "Oh, have you not been told? Silly me-- your stylist is under the weather. Not to mention she has so much prep work to do for the interviews, especially due to your drastic image change. You really threw a wrench into her plans, you know.... If anyone can overcome the hiccup, it's Kera, however-- that woman is a visionary."

I ignore the pandering, chewing my bottom lip. "She's sick," I repeat. "That's the best news I've heard all week."

I leave the unfinished plate lying on the table, and retreat to my room, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt that is likely meant for Nathan. I don't even bother to brush my hair, letting it hang tangled and loose around my face. It feels like a tiny rebellion. Partially against Kera, but against the gamemakers too-- I don't care about making a good first impression for the people who are going to be trying to kill me.

Nathan raises his eyebrow when he sees the state of me, but doesn't say anything, stepping into the elevator at my side. When we get to the training level, the trainers catch us at the door, directing us where we can sit to wait for our turns. Mahogany is sitting closest to the door-- the private sessions happen in order by district, with the males going first, so naturally he'll be the first one done. I sit between Nathan and Mark farther down the hall. There's a pang of sympathy in my chest for the boy from 3-- he's unfortunate to have to sit beside Vella, and she seems to relish making him squirm.

One by one, we're called into the training facility, and with every tribute called in, my anxiety only grows. Each session only takes about twenty minutes apiece, but they feel so much longer. By the time we break for lunch, only six tributes have been through. I really am going to waste most of the day sitting on a bench quietly, and it annoys me-- there are so many better ways I could be using my time.

We are permitted to eat in the cafeteria, but aren't allowed to talk. Jason sits with the Careers, something we'd all agreed upon the night prior-- he didn't want to tip them off that he'd joined us, and he said he wanted to try to see how much information he could get from them by hanging around nearby. I don't envy him-- he's someone who can take care of himself, but the Careers don't seem like good company. 

I don't eat much, even thought I know I should; I hardly had anything for breakfast. I admit, I am pretty hungry, but I wouldn't be able to keep anything in my stomach if I tried. I'm not the only one, though-- quite a few other tributes seem to be staring at their food rather than eating it. It feels like barely any time has passed at all when Hassan is ordering us back to the benches, telling the tributes that had already gone that they were fine to return to their living quarters. I breathe a little easier when Dane and the others leave.

Jason is called into his private session next, and while I am a touch anxious for him, I know how talented he is, and try to convince myself that he has it all handled. 

Hours pass as I wait, tailbone sore from the wooden bench, feet jiggling as an outlet for my fear and anxiety. It's almost three o'clock when Hassan calls Georgie in. When I realize Nathan is next, I freeze, only relaxing when he notices and starts rubbing my back reassuringly. 

After the rest of the day passing at a snails pace, Georgie's session feels like it took no time at all. Minutes later, Hassan is calling for Nathan. 

"Good luck," I mumble, not quite meeting his eyes. He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze.

"See you on the other side," laughs Mark nervously, and Nathan gives him a small nod.

It feels like Nathan is in there decades longer than anyone else. I worry about what must be going wrong, what might be happening inside. But right as my daydreams start to spiral more, Nathan appears through the door once more, looking somewhat confident, and shooting me a thumbs up on his way out.

Seconds later, Hassan calls my name.

I walk slowly into the empty training room. Most of the gamemakers look bored, and seem to be focusing more on the food than on me, although the Head Gamemaker and a few others look mildly interested. "Name?" one of them calls out when I finally come to a stop in the middle off the room.

"Zania Roberts," I call back to them. "District Nine."

"Proceed."

I start where it's easiest, by setting a fire. They have matches, and flint and steel, but I opt to do it the hard way, through friction from rubbing pieces of wood together. There wouldn't be supplies just laying around in the Arena, after all, unless I managed to grab it from the Cornucopia. I have a roaring campfire in no time at all, and I happen to catch a few of the gamemakers making notes on their clipboards. 

I go through the obstacle course next, setting a quicker time than I had the first day I tried it, but stumbling a couple of times. I don't bother with any of the weapons-- I know that without Georgie's coaching, I'm just going to embarrass myself, so I tie a few snares, and then end off by passing the edible plants test with flying colors. Finally, the Head Gamemaker informs me that I can leave.

I manage a quick wave to Addalie and Breah on my way to the elevator. When I reach the 9th floor, Nathan is waiting for me with out mentors, and to my dismay, Palana too. 

"So much time left to wait-- the scores won't be televised for a good for hours yet," our escort whines, eyes slowly rolling over to look at Nathan. "I can hardly handle the delay. I'm sure you'll have set a new District Nine record." She completely ignores me. Honestly, I can't say I mind.

"What are we going to do until then?" Nathan asks, ignoring Palana. 

"Why don't we debrief? You two can tell us what you did during your sessions. We can try to get a feel for what you might get," Olivia suggests.

"Okay... well I threw around a few medicine balls. Tried to show what I learned with the trident and sword; I think it went okay, but I probably could have done better. Not super familiar with the weapons, you know?" Nathan recounts.

"What about the gamemakers-- did you catch any of their reactions?" Sean asks. 

"They weren't really paying attention," Nathan admits. "The few that were seemed impressed with the weights, I guess. I don't know about the weapons, though. I wasn't really watching them. I was trying to focus on what I was doing."

"That's good; we want you focused," Olivia says with an encouraging smile, before looking over to me and prompting me to share next.

"I set a fire, did the obstacle course, tied some snares, and did the edible plant tests," I recall.

"We're going to need a bit more than that," Sean snorted, shaking his head slightly at me. "How do you think you did? How did the gamemakers react?"

I shrug. "I built the fire fast-- when I did that they started writing things down. I don't really know if that's good or bad," I tell them. "I only stumbled once or twice on the obstacle course, but set a good time. I couldn't remember all of the snares I learned, but I tired a couple good ones. And I aced the edible plants test. The gamemakers... they just looked really bored. I don't think they were watching me for most of it."

"Of course they were watching, it's their job," Palana chides in a sing song voice, speaking to me as though she was disciplining a small child for telling tall tales. "If you didn't do well, just tell us, Zania-- making up stories won't work!"

Sean waves her off, turning to me. "They usually get bored around District Five, I wouldn't take it to heart," he assures me. "Remember your games, Olivia? They barely watched you at all. Were too busy singing a drinking song."

In an uncharacteristic moment of attitude, Olivia scoffs and rolls her eyes. "God, don't remind me. My Games had the most useless gamemakers of all time. They were all asleep at the wheel."

"Don't talk about them that way," scolds Palana, wounded by Olivia's words. "Mr. Thorne was a fantastic Head Gamemaker. It was such a tragedy when he died!"

"How'd he died?" Nathan asks.

"Capitol hung him," Sean says grimly. "Year after Olivia's games, he lost the plot. Couldn't come up with any new ideas, and left it too long to bring new talent in. Everything, from the Arena to the mutts, was recycled from the year before." Palana has no rebuttal to that, just making a face and waving him off.

We have dinner at six. Kera joins us, and shows no sign of being sick, haughty and vain as ever. Moray is there too-- I've never had a conversation with him, but he has a nice vibe. He seems much more pleasant than Kera, just at baseline.

At seven, we gather around the television, and Sean turns it on, anxiety churning in my stomach. Caesar Flickerman, the yearly host of the Hunger Games, is already doing his preshow, recapping the Reapings, and sharing rumors and gossip about how he's heard all the tributes are faring. 

And with a flash of his bleach-white teeth, and a new music score to set the tone, he says what I've been dreading and waiting for all day, all at once. "Let's get started, Panem! It's time for us to hear the tribute training scores for the 35th Hunger Games!"