The next day of training is the last, and I manage to avoid Cato during it. And Jasper.

However, at dinner that night, Haymitch and Andrew explain what's going to happen the next day.

"So tomorrow, they'll bring you in and evaluate you," Haymitch explains to us, Andrew nodding alongside him. "This is important because the rankings are broadcast later tonight, and the higher they are, the more sponsors you will get."

"This is the time to show them everything," Andrew summarises. "There'll be knives there, Sage. Make sure you use them. Jasper, make sure to show your strength."

Clearly, whilst I've been messing about trying to make bows, Jasper has been trying to improve his own image. I'm too angry at him to care much, though.

"They'll start with District One, so you two will go last," Haymitch says finally. "I don't know how else to put this, but... make sure they remember you."

I look back at him, the wheels in my mind turning.

I don't know how I'm going to make the gamemakers remember me in the slightest, but what I do know is that I've already made enough enemies.

I can't afford to make anymore.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

It's awkward.

Really awkward.

Jasper and I have been sitting in the waiting room, side by side, for about three and a half hours by now. The little girl from District Eleven who I now know is named Rue, has just gone in, but we've had to sit through all the tributes getting called into the room, and we've just had to sit there. We're also sitting uncomfortably close, even though there's a lot of space by now because the room isn't filled with tributes anymore.

We sit in silence. I have no desire to talk to him, and before, we couldn't risk anyone listening in. I can't wait to get out of here, even if I'm walking straight into that room.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts as I feel a pressure on my arm. I look down instinctively, but there's no doubt in my mind. Jason is touching it again.

"Get off me!" I snap, jerking my arm away from him and standing up, backing up slightly. "I thought I told you I'd kill you if you touched me again."

"Sage-" Jasper begins, standing up as well.

"Don't say my name!" I snap.

"So are we not going to talk about this? A- about anything?" He questions. "Are we just going to walk into the arena without-"

"Without what?" I hiss. "Without addressing the fact you raped me at thirteen years old?!"

Not even I had been expecting that.

I falter slightly, my eyes dropping to the ground. Because saying it out loud makes it real. It was all fine, us tiptoeing around it, not mentioning it, but now I'm acknowledging it. And I really, really wish I hadn't.

"Sage, listen-" Jasper takes a step towards me.

"Don't touch me!" I shout, taking one backwards.

"Sage-"

"No, I mean it," I tell him. "Say whatever the hell you like, but you're not taking advantage of me like that again."

"But Sage, please-"

"I don't give a fuck what you have to say," I clarify. "Just stay out my way."

"Sage Everdeen, report for individual assessment," comes out of the speaker on the wall.

I give Jasper one more scathing look before leaving the room.

I walk through the door slowly, not looking back. There's so many emotions coursing through me, and I don't know what to do.

Entering the assessment room makes it worse. It's just our normal training room, but it's empty, and the gamemakers are the only ones making noise. They sit in their usual space above, drinks in their hands, laughing loudly.

I walk slowly over to the knife range, which is very near their little window, and pick up the same knife I had the other day, when Cato came running at me.

I presumed the gamemakers would stop their talking and laughing after I had been perceived to start, but no. They sit drunk, just as loud as before, making no attempt to even give me the slightest bit of attention.

I stand, looking up at them, and on impulse, I say loudly. "Sage Everdeen? District Twelve."

Seneca Crane, head gamemaker, turns to me, sitting comfortably in his chair as he sips more wine from his glass. He doesn't reply, or even nod, just stares.

I sigh, flipping my knife in my hand and walking to the target range. I slowly raise my knife, my eyes locking in on the centre of the target. I level my head, my hand coming back, and throw.

Fuck.

I release the knife too early, and it flies off course. It slams into the side of the target, not even reaching the outline of the human.

The laughs that come from the drunken gamemakers irritate me to no end. They couldn't fucking do this, could they?

I march back over to the knives, selecting one the same as the one I just threw. I pick it up, only spinning it a couple of times before walking straight back over to stand in front of the same target I just threw at.

Anger fuels me, but I don't let it distract me. I raise my arm again, determined to get it right this time, and extend it, releasing at just the right moment.

The knife flies straight, spinning at just the right trajectory as it lodges right into the centre of the target.

I smirk slightly, turning to the gamemakers.

Well, I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't no attention at all.

The gamemakers don't look at me, or see me at all. A roast pig has just showed up, an apple in it's mouth, all laid out on a salad platter, and that is all they seem to be paying attention to. They stumble about, absolutely drunk, as they all skewer a piece of pig for themselves.

Anger courses through me, rivalling my feelings about Jasper. I'm here being sentenced to my death, and they don't even have the decency to look at me. All they see is that stupid pig.

So I decide to do something about it.

I stomp towards the knives again, selecting the last one there that reminds me of my father's ones. I go back to where I was standing, raise the knife quickly, my arm drawing back at I lock in on my target-

SLAM.

And the room goes silent.

Because I've thrown the apple out of the roast pig's mouth, impaling it swiftly and pinning it against the wall.

I certainly have the gamemakers' attention now. All eyes are on me as they gape at me, mouths open in shock, Seneca Crane in particular.

But I am too angry to care.

"Thank you," I say loudly. "For your consideration."

And then, to lay it on thicker, I bow low, my arms stretched out, trying to hide a smirk on my face.

Then, before I can get my tongue cut out, or perhaps even shot, I march out the room, leaving a bunch of stunned gamemakers behind.

It's fine, I tell myself, head held high as I leave. They can't hurt me. They're already sending me to my death.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

"Are you crazy?!" Effie yells at me later, snapping her fan in my face. Me, her, Cinna, Andrew and Jasper are sitting in the living room, and I've just told them how the interview went.

"Yes, probably!" I snap back. "They weren't fucking looking at me, what was I supposed to do? Just roll over-"

"You were supposed to obey the rules!" Effie shouts shrilly. "You do realise that your actions reflect badly on all of us, not just you!"

"They just want a good show, it's fine," Cinna answers.

"How about it's just bad manners, Cinna? How about that?" Effie claps back, waving her fan around wildly as Haymitch slumps into the room. "Well, finally! I hope you've noticed we have a serious situation!"

Oh, here we go, I think, as Haymitch turns to me. Here it comes, the scolding, the disappointm-

But Haymitch is grinning, showing me a thumbs up.

"Nice throwing, sweetheart."

He sits down next to Andrew, and I can't help but smile slightly as he laughs. "W-what did they do when you shot the apple?"

"Well, they looked pretty stunned," I shrug.

Both Andrew and Haymitch laugh this time.

"Now what did you say? Thanks for your...?"

"Consideration," I finish, grinning.

"Genius!" Haymitch grins. "Genius..."

Effie, meanwhile, shouts. "I don't think we're gonna find this funny, if the gamemakers decide to take it out on-"

"On who? On her?" Haymitch points at me. "On him?" At Jasper. "I think you'll find they already have. Loosen your corset, come on, have a drink!"

"To be honest, I'd have given anything to see it," Andrew chuckles, sitting back.

I sigh, smiling slightly to myself. I had thought what I did was terrible.

But maybe, it wasn't so bad after all.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

The broadcast for the rankings, as well as the interviews, and the games for themselves, is all hosted by Ceasar Flickerman, a Capitol man who colours his hair different series. This year, it's blue, and so are his eyebrows, to match.

We all sit in the living room, seats turned in the direction of the television, as we watch Ceasar on the screen.

"As you all know, the tributes are rated on a scale of one to twelve after three days of careful evaluation," he begins. "So, without further ado, here are the tributes' rankings..."

And so it happens.

The careers always score high, so it's no surprise when Marvel gets a nine. Glimmer also scores nine, and I wonder what she must have done, because from what I've seen of her, she isn't that good.

Cato gets a ten. This is the second highest score ever given in the rankings, as no one has ever made a twelve before and it is very seldom that anyone gets an eleven. I wonder what Cato did, as well, but he must've been memorable.

Memorable for the right reasons.

Clove also gets a ten, and from what I've seen of her in the training room, it's believable.

Districts Three and Four score low, as well as Foxface who gets a five. She's smart, though, and that is a very good weapon she can utilise.

Six to Ten get average scores. Nothing amazing, nothing too bad. I don't know how any of them will fare, but then again, I don't know how well I'm gonna fare either.

Thresh, the boy from Eleven, gets a nine. I heard yesterday that the careers had tried to recruit him but he said no. This automatically made me gain respect for him.

And little Rue gets a seven! With how small and young she is, it surprises me that she got above four, but to get a seven? That's probably higher than I'm going to get.

"Have they ever given a zero?" I ask Haymitch vaguely.

He shakes his head. "Don't be thinking negatively, sweetheart."

Before I can reply, Ceasar is speaking again on the televisio.

"And now for our final district," he introduces. "From District Twelve, Jasper Mellark, with a score of... eight."

An eight flashes up around Jasper's picture as Effie gasps, Cinna congratulates him and Haymitch and Andrew grin. Jasper sits back slightly, almost looking unbelieving.

"And finally," Ceasar says. Every muscle in my body tenses. Here it comes. "From District Twelve, Sage Everdeen, with a score of..."

A wait that feels like a lifetime.

"...eleven."

For a second, I'm stuck in shock. Effie stands up, whooping in glee. Haymitch and Andrew cheers their glasses. Jasper has his mouth open, and Cinna is applauding.

"Congratulations," Jasper speaking to me pulls me out of my trance, but I ignore him.

"I thought they hated me," I say to Haymitch.

"They must have liked your guts," he shrugs.

"To Sage Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!" Cinna holds his glass up high. All the adults copy him, but I don't bother trying to, because I'm too shocked.

Clearly, being memorable was the best way to go.

But that's not really going to help me in the arena.

☦︎☦︎☦︎

At dinner that night, only Effie, Cinna, Andrew and I show face. I can't help but wonder where the hell Haymitch and Jasper are, but I keep that to myself as Effie drones on.

"So she's staring at all my jewels, she cannot take her eyes off them, frankly, it was rude- oh, Haymitch, you should join us! We're having some of your favourite dinner." She pipes up as the man himself slopes into the room.

"Oh well, if you insist," Haymitch said sarcastically, sitting down at the end of the table.

"Where's Jasper?" I can't help but ask.

"He's in his room," Haymitch shrugs nonchalantly. "Now, listen, tomorrow's the last day, and they let us work with our own tributes right before the games, so you and I will be going down at nine."

I frown. It's not that I'm sad Jasper won't be with us, I'm just confused.

"What about him?"

"Oh, he says he wants to be trained on his own from now on," Haymitch says casually.

And I feel anything but.

The first thing I feel is anger, but that's ludicrous, because I've been waiting to get Jasper off my back this whole week. Then I feel betrayal, which is even worse, because for there to be betrayal, there would have to be trust first, and I wouldn't trust Jasper with anything.

"This kinda thing does happen at this point," Haymitch tells me. "There's... only one winner, right?"

And I know there is. And I certainly don't want it to be Jasper Mellark.

But I also don't know what to feel in the slightest.