I finish lunch early and head into the training room. I'm not surprised to see that it's dead silent with nobody in it but the Gamemakers, who are way to drunk on wine to see me.

I go straight to the axes, running my fingers along their handles and their blades before picking them up. I turned to the target, willing myself to turn away, to forget this, because the careers were going to be back in a moment-

But it was too late. I had already outstretched my hand and thrown. The axe spiraled through the air for a minute before landing the right way up, in the centre of the target.

I throw a couple more and they land either side of the first one. This is when I hear a commotion in the lunch room, which means that if I throw another, my greatest skill would be revealed.

I run to the target to collect the axes and quickly put them back on their stand, hurrying to do something else so no one would know I was at the shooting range.

No one does. For the next hour, I tie knots, suss out edible plants and try not to be jealous of the careers. Suddenly, I get the urge to apologise to Austin, and see him over at the camouflage station.

I see him with one of the fake trees that are used for climbing. Painting his arm, looking at the colours very carefully. When I get closer I see the whole lower half of his arm is covered in paint, matching the tree exactly.

"Hi," I say awkwardly.

He looks up. "Hey."

"How did you do that?" I ask in wonder, pointing to his arm.

"Oh, I... I used to decorate the cakes down at the bakery," he tells me, walking over to the tree and sticking his arm against it. It blends in perfectly. Suddenly he isn't looking at me, and he looks past my shoulder. "I think you have a shadow."

I turn around and see the girl from Eleven, the little twelve year old, standing, half concealed by another fake tree. I smile warmly and turn to go.

"Hey, uh... Willow?" Austin grabs my arm.

I look at him carefully, seeing confusion in his eyes, and feeling confusion in my head.

"What?" I ask, taking my arm out his strong grip.

"I'm sorry," he tells me. "I'm sorry for bullying you at school. I didn't really believe half the things I said. I just- I'm just-"

I sigh and cross my arms. "Listen, some of those things you said had me hurting in my bed at night-"

"Willow, I just, I don't know-"

"Forget it," I walk away, feeling much worse than I did when I started to talk to him.

☘︎☘︎☘︎

At dinner, Austin and I were, at best, civilised to each other. We sat in silence with each other as Haymitch told us about the next stage of torture the Gamemakers had initiated. The private sessions.

"So, tomorrow, they'll bring you in and evaluate you, one by one. Now, this is important because higher ratings will mean sponsors. This is the time to show them everything," he nods to me. "There'll be axes, make sure you use them, and Austin, make sure to show your strength. They'll start with District One, so the two of you will go last. Well... I don't know how else to put this, but make sure they remember you."

Remember me.

❀❀❀

We wait in a small room with benches that, at the start, all the tributes are sitting in. Towards the end, it's just Austin and me.

My knee is bouncing up and down but I do nothing to calm it. It's no use. Finally, the little intercom on the wall speaks. "Austin Thatcher."

Austin doesn't even bother to look at me before he leaves.

It seems like a lifetime, even though it's only ten minutes, before "Willow Hawthorne" is being called on the intercom.

I wander slowly through to the corridor and into the training centre. It's been stripped down, and all the weapons have been placed in a big pile below the Gamemakers. There's dummies and different camouflage paints and products there also.

"Miss Hawthorne, you have ten minutes to present your chosen skill," Seneca Crane tells me.

Without hesitation, I pick up a few axes. I go to the target range, and throw one. Not goodly. It misses the desired bullseye and lands to the left of it. I curse myself as the Gamemakers laugh. They quickly turn their attention to the roast pig that someone has just given them.

I aim and throw again. This one hits the bullseye perfectly and I look up in satisfaction. But the Gamemakers pay no attention whatsoever. They're drunk, bloated and now yelling about the roast pig that they're about to eat. I look at them in anger and I'm about to yell at them before I remember something my father told me when I started mouthing off about the Capitol one day.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Willow, don't let your mother hear you saying those things!"

"But what about you, dad?" I had asked. "Don't you not want me to say them?"

"I think every word is true," he admitted. "But I would say, that one thing I've learned throughout the years is, actions always speak louder than words."

And I used that right now. Actions speak louder than words. Taking my final axe, I don't aim at the targets, I aim at the roast pig's head.

And then I release it.

In that second, I know I've done the right thing. The axe slices the head off the roast pig, then sticks into the wall behind them.

Seneca Crane stands up as I'm smirking like an idiot. He looks straight at me and then to the axe in the wall. I bow low.

"Thank you for your consideration," I say, my tone laced with sarcasm. I kick the axe holder, making a sound but not causing any damages, then I storm out the room, leaving a pile of weapons and some very stressed Gamemakers behind.

☘︎☘︎☘︎

"Are you crazy?" Effie yells as she jabs her fan in my direction.

"I just got mad," I say. I had just told Effie, Cinna, Portia and Austin what I had done. Haymitch was not present.

"Mad?" Effie shrieks so that the whole bloody Capitol can hear her. "Do you realise that your actions reflect badly on all of us? Not just you!"

"They just wanna good show, it's fine," Cinna sighs.

"How about it's just bad manners, Cinna, how about that?" Effie shouts to high heaven as Haymitch comes into the room. "Well, finally! I hope you know this to be of a serious situation!"

Haymitch however, looks like he's trying to keep a laugh in as he gives me a thumbs up. "Nice throwing, sweetheart."

He sits down in the chair opposite me as I finally relish in the fact that somebody's on my side. "What did they say when you threw that axe?"

"Well they looked pretty startled," I shrug.

Haymitch chuckles. "Oh yeah," he nodded. "They'd be startled. Now what did you say, thanks for your..."

"For your consideration," I finish, finally laughing with him.

"Genius!" He comments. "Genius..."

"Do you think we're gonna find this funny," Effie barks dramatically, "if the Gamemakers decide to take it out-"

"On who? On her?" Haymitch points at me. "On him?" He switches his finger to Austin. "I think they already have. Loosen your corset, have a drink."

Effie looks scandalised, but at least she shuts up. Haymitch turns to me. "I would've given anything to see it."

There's one more thing. Based on the private sessions they've just seen, the Gamemakers then rank us from one to twelve on what we did. Normally, the careers get tens or (occasionally) elevens. Nobody's ever gotten a twelve, then everyone else gets mediocre scores, like sevens and eights.

Anyway, as the TV cracks to life behind us, we turn to watch as Caesar Flickerman tells us all the scores.

"Now, as you all know, the tributes are rated on a score of one to twelve after three days of careful evaluation."

I turn my head to the screen as I see the boy from District One. "From District One, Marvel, with a score of... nine."

No surprise there, I think bitterly. I know I:e gotten at least a two.

"From District One, Glimmer, with a score of... nine."

The careers were always going to score high.

"From District Two, Cato, with a score of... ten.

"...Clove, with a score of... ten."

I tune out for a few tributes and tune back in to see the red head female tribute from Five get a five. Throughout training, I've noticed how smart she is. And that must never be underestimated in the arena.

I look away again and this time, see the little girl from Eleven get her score. I learn her name is Rue, a small flower that grows in the fields. Rue. Primrose.

Anyways, she scores as seven. An impressive feat for someone that small, let alone a twelve year old.

Thresh, the boy from Eleven, gets a ten. I'm not surprised one bit by this, given that the careers asked him and he said no. I admire him for this.

Finally, it comes to us.

"From District Twelve," Caesar begins. "Austin Thatcher, with a score of... eight."

The whole apartment breathes a breath of relief and joy as everyone congratulates Austin. At least one of us did good, I think. Because I know for sure I won't.

"And finally," I brace myself. "From District Twelve, Willow Hawthorne, with a score of..."

This seems to take forever.

"...Eleven."

This seems to sink in as everyone pats me on the back and celebrates my victory. My face relaxes into a sort of smile and I breathe happily for about the first time all day.

"Congratulations," Austin says rather sullenly to me.

"I thought they hated me," I say not to him, but to Haymitch.

"They must've liked your guts," he grins.

"To Willow Hawthorne, the girl on fire!" Cinna jumps up and raises his glass. I grin at him in return.

I have no doubt that the careers will be outraged tonight. Because a little girl from District Twelve has beaten them, not just in spirit and guts, but in scores.