The bed makes a creaking noise as I climb into it, immediately hiding myself under the cozy blankets of the Capital. After tomorrow, which is the last day of training, are the interviews, and after that, we go into the actual arena. I try to hold back tears by taking deep breaths. I’m a Career. In fact, I probably have the best chance of surviving more than anyone else. I try to calm myself, but I can’t hide the fact that I’m just as scared as anyone else is. In the end, I just wanna come home safe and sound. And the truth is, being a Career doesn’t help at all. Before you know it, when it’s down to the final 2, the remaining Career will stab you in your back before you even get a chance to use your weapon. A single tear falls. I try to hold the rest but they reluctantly flow down my face. I cry myself to sleep as I drift off, trying to find peace and happiness before the next day comes, which is another day closer to the Games. I must have fallen into deep sleep after that, because I wake up, not remembering anything. I wash my face in the Capital bathroom. Then I walk to the dining room and sit down. Finnick, Nabil, and Sierra have all started eating. I pick up my fork and stuff food in my mouth. “Today’s the day you’ll present your skills to the Capital!” Sierra beams like that’s a good thing. I roll my eyes and look down at my plate. “Correct,” Finnick responds. “After that, they’ll give you a training score. 1-12.” “Has anyone ever gotten a twelve?” Nabil asks. “No.” Finnick says. “But you could be the first.” Nabil smiles with a sense of hopefulness. I wonder how he has this much hope, there’s no way any one of us is gonna get higher than a 10. I know it. We take a few last bites before heading to our rooms to change into training suits. After that, I walk with Finnick and Nabil to the Training Center. On the way there, Finnick gives us one last bit of advice. “Focus on the skill you’re worst at,” he says. “And don’t focus on what the weapon is. I hope you practiced a lot during training.” “But what if we don’t have any weapon we’re skilled at?” Nabil asks. “It doesn’t have to be a weapon.” Finnick says. “Anything you’re good at, just present it.” Nabil and I nod and once we arrive, I sit down on one of the chairs that we wait on. Nabil sits on the chair next to me. I look around, only to see the tributes from District 2 confident and smiling. District 12 looks extremely nervous, and I wouldn’t blame them. “How are you feeling?” Nabil says. “Nervous,” I say, not even bothering to make eye contact. “Come on, I’ve seen you with your trident. You’re amazing.” he comforts. “Amazing? I only learned how to aim yesterday!” I say, my voice getting a bit louder, but not loud enough for others to hear. “Then do what you did yesterday.” he says gently. “Easy for you to say,” I grunt. “All you have to do is name fruits and say if they’re poisonous or not.” “That’s not easy!” he says, his tone changing. “Whatever,” I roll my eyes. One by one, they call people from each district. Female, then male. Minutes pass in silence until the District 3 male walks out, looking at me in fear. They must’ve done something to him. As he walks away, they call me and I take a deep breath. “Focus on your aim.” Nabil says softly. I stop walking and turn around, my lips forming a half smile. “I will,” I gently say. I turn back around, walking into the room. “Zaryiah Vale, District 4.” I say loudly. They turn around to watch me. I grab a trident and close one eye, then I put my hand out. I put my hand behind my head, then I yank it forward as if I’m throwing air, trying to test my aim. I begin to hear snickering from my audience. “Are you throwing air, or your trident?” they laugh. I start to get angry, and I try my best to hold back the urge to just take the trident and throw it straight at their hearts. I slowly lift the trident up, positioning it. I move it forward a few times, but I don’t throw it. “Come on are you gonna throw it or what?” they joke. I hear laughter and again, I try to contain my rage. I take a deep breath in and out. “Are you gonna kill someone by just lifting a trident up?” they tease. I hear snickering and I decide to channel my anger into my throw. I suddenly turn around to face the Gamemakers and I release my trident, and it flies straight toward them. Someone ducks and it passes right above their head. The trident hits the wall and they all look at the trident, then quickly turn their heads to face me. “Not so funny now when a trident almost hits your head, right?” I tease them back. I walk out and I notice Nabil pacing. As they call him, I grab his arm to stop him. “Make them regret ever forcing you to fight to the death,” I say, fire in my eyes. He nods with confidence. I walk away and he enters the room. Sure, there’ll be some kind of consequence. But besides that, it felt good.
