I jump out of my bed, looking around. I just had a dream that by the second I’m forgetting… oh well. I remember it terrifying me, but that’s pretty much it. I quickly change my clothes from pajamas to my training outfit. I touch my silver tree necklace to reassure me before I head out the door of my Capitol bedroom and go to the dining room. I feel the wear and tear of 3 training days, and my arms feel hardly real. While I’m reaching for the strawberries to go over my waffles, I hear someone walk in. I take a quick glance and see that it’s Arbor. “Hi Arbor,” I say. “Hey. What are you going to do in your private session?” he asks me. “Oh, probably use an axe. Or some sort of knife. They seem pretty similar. I’m okay with both.” “More than okay!” He reiterates. He’s told me this before, but somehow I don’t give myself enough credit in his mind. It might also be the fact that he’s in love with me, but… you know, I’ll just take compliments when they come. Which will be rarely, once I enter The Hunger Games and most likely die. “Thanks, but…” I say. “What are you going to do for your session?” I ask. I think that he’s the best with a bow and arrow, but I could be wrong. Maybe our training sessions made him be better at something else. Axing dummies, perhaps. “Bow and arrow.” He says without hesitation. I know for a fact he’s good with one. Better than good. He hits everything he puts his eye on with those arrows. I must say, District 7 has a decent survival chance on paper. But I’m scared to see what the Gamemakers think. I doubt they’ll see much in the districts that aren’t Careers. Everyone in 7 knows they’re partial to the Careers, without a doubt. “Let’s go,” I say. I wipe my face off with a napkin and we make our way to the waiting room. As I walk in, I see that about half of the teams are already there. Being in the middle of the individual training can be a bad thing. The Gamemakers are already bored, hence they don’t pay any attention. I look around to see how everyone’s holding up, and I see District 10 and Aurelia glaring at me. I glare back. I hold my gaze there until the loudspeaker’s high pitched voice says, “Aurelia Beauport, District 1,” and she breaks her gaze to storm out of the waiting room and demonstrate her talent. I must admit, she’s not bad with a knife. I zone out and stare at the wall as districts 2-6 pass, and then Arbor nudges me. “What,” I say with a yawn. “Rosemary Fraser, District 7,” I hear the loudspeaker say. “Oh,” I say. “Hey Rosemary,” he says. “Make them remember you,” he continues. Remember me? How? And then I remember how when people did exceptionally good or bad they got recognized and got significantly more recognition, especially if they weren’t a Career. I nod tersely and walk over to the door when I hear another voice. “Good luck, Rosemary,” I hear the girl from 10 mock. I know it’s not genuine and I shake my head as I turn to the door. I see Piper’s eyes on me and slightly open her mouth as if to say something right as I close the door. Was she going to tell me something? I consider going back out the door to hear what she might’ve been trying to signal, but I hear the door automatically lock behind me. I shudder as I walk toward the Gamemakers. If anything goes wrong, there’s no way to escape. “What’s your name?” the presumable head Gamemaker asks. She’s wearing a different outfit than the other Gamemakers and is the one who spoke, so I assume that she’s the leader of the pack. She looks strict, with her tight bun and all. “Rosemary Fraser, District 7.” I say. I want to be as tough as I can in this session. I’m determined for them to remember me, if that’s the last thing I do. “What’s your… talent?” He says. Evidently he’s not a master of language. “Maybe ‘way to kill people’ would’ve been more appropriate,” I shoot back. As soon as I say this, his face tenses and the other Gamemakers lean in with frowns. “What’s your talent?!” He reiterates, basically shouting. “Axes.” I say. I know I shouldn’t have said what I said, but these Capitol people need to own up to exactly what they’re doing. And I don’t care if they hate me. I’m not going home anyway. “Very well. Please begin your training session, and may the odds be ever in your favor-“ “Yeah right-“ I cut off. I’m on thin ice already. I head over to the axe throwing station as calmly as possible, although the truth is that I’m not calm in the slightest. I’m screaming inside. Truly. I take a deep breath and take hold of an axe.
