Cameron and I walk to training the next morning, determined to find our weapons of choice. Sure, I could make bombs or something that electrocutes, but I have no idea what will be available to us in the arena.

“Do you wanna be allies?” Cameron asks.

“Sure.” He seems like a sweet kid, not to mention, our alliance would make our district proud.

“Can we go over to the weights?”

“Go on ahead,” I say. “We don’t have to stick together right now. Remember what Beetee said about learning new skills.”

“Yes, mother.”

What do you know. The boy’s got a sarcastic side.  

As for me, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at archery. When the trainer shows me how to nock an arrow, pull the string back, and aim, I’m so eager that I completely miss the target. I give it a few more tries, but I have to be realistic. I won’t get much better at it during the next week.

“Why not go to the knot-tying station?” the archery trainer suggests. While I’m there, I run into the tributes from District 4, a girl named Tally, and a boy named Floyd. They’re crafting complicated knots, knots that must have taken years of fishing to perfect. In the distance, I watch Cameron lift and throw an astonishing fifty pounds. So he’s stronger than he looks. But that’s nothing compared to the people from Districts 1 and 2. They’re throwing knives, spears and axes like it’s as easy as breathing. I try not to let my nerves get the best of me. These other tributes are so much more skilled than the rest of us. And they know it.

I decide to learn how to make a fire, since I’ve got no outdoor experience whatsoever. This proves to be a struggle, too, until Quinn Mellark, the District 12 girl, walks over. “Can I help?”

I nod gratefully. Her kind eyes say that she’s not the type of tribute who would kill me, and something about her gains my trust right away. With her help, I get a fire going. I can’t help but cheer when sparks ignite.

“I do this all the time back home,” she says matter-of-factly. “We don’t have any electrical heating, so this is how we have to keep warm in the fall and winter. Plus, my family owns a bakery. Takes a good fire to make the bread, you know.”

In return, I teach her how to make a bomb. As I watch her connect wires, a lightbulb goes off in my head.

Duh. This would be my perfect weapon of choice. I challenge myself by asking Quinn to time me with a stopwatch, to see how fast I can put a bomb together.  

“Whoa, you’re fast,” she gushes. “That wasn’t even ten seconds!”

After a few days of training, the exhibition day arrives, and I’m ready to go. My bomb-making demonstration goes off without a hitch. The Gamemakers actually applaud my time of eight seconds, providing me with a serious morale boost.  

That night, Cameron, Beetee, Ty and I sit around our suite’s television screen to find out our scores.

They move on to District 3. “Wiress Plummer. Eight.” Then: “Cameron Lang. Seven.”

“Wonderful!” Ty cheers, clapping like an excited seal.

“Not bad, you guys,” Beetee says, giving Cameron a pat on the arm. He turns to me and extends his hand. I extend mine out, expecting a handshake, but he squeezes it instead. We’ve really grown close in the past week. Is it bad that I don’t want to let go?

Author’s note: If you didn’t figure it out, Quinn Mellark is Peeta’s aunt!