Ice Cold Fire// F. Odair

6

It was private training evaluations today.

I wasn't necessarily nervous, I was planning on doing the craziest evaluation a tribute would do. And what is that may you ask?

I plan on failing so badly that my score doesn't reach higher than a 4 or 5.

So I stood in my room now, with a tight black training suit on, with the big number 12 on my sleeve in red. I had decided to eat my breakfast today in my room, but it remained untouched by me. I sat alone and isolated from the others, feeling betrayed and misunderstood. After Clay and Haymitch decided I wasn't good enough for them, my anger and frustration lingered, only fueling my determination to maintain my good girl and innocent act more and fool them all when the games began. I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time, taking a moment to adjust my empty expression to the innocent and vulnerable look I had practiced so well. Quickly stepping inside the bathroom, I picked out a red lace ribbon bow and clipped it in my fishtail braid, which was lying down my back.

It was time to go to the evaluation room and put her plan into action.

I walked out of my room and was met with silence, meaning everyone was downstairs in the waiting training room already for evaluations, or in the mentor's room. Going down the elevator by myself and walking down the empty halls was eerie enough. But my mind was focused on the task at hand. I had to make it seem as though I was weak, inexperienced, and incapable of surviving in the arena.

It was a risky move, but I was willing to take the gamble.

Arriving now at the room, where all the tributes sat, I now had to wait for the names to begin to be called. I sat down next to Clay and didn't even bat an eye at him when he called my name to grab my attention. I practically zoned out the whole hour I waited for my name to be called. I felt Clay stand up abruptly, making me snap my gaze back to reality, realizing I was the last one left. A few minutes went by and suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, "District 12, Aurora Rosemary."

I got up and quickly walked through the doors, the peacekeepers had opened for me. Walking inside I went to the middle of the room, where there were multiple stations open for my five-minute demonstration to the sponsors and game makers watching from above.

"You may begin, you have five minutes to show us your skills Miss Rosemary," the head gamekeeper spoke up, but he sounded slurred as if the alcohol they all were drinking had made him incapable of speaking. I only smiled and skipped towards a station of paints. Grabbing different colors of berries and plants in bowls, I squished them as fast as possible, making the fruits and plants paint now. Looking down at the green bowl and red in the other, I splashed it all on the floor, before kneeling and drawing a flower, mixing the colors.

Looking back up, the men looking at me were laughing and drinking, as if they knew I wouldn't last. Looking at the wall behind me, I noticed two minutes left. I internally smirked, but looked up at them and smiled, as they all curiously looked at me.

Idiots. Rich idiots.

I stumbled, feigning clumsiness, as I approached the last station I would do. The knife station. I grabbed three small butterfly knives and admired them, staring at my dazed reflection. Looking up, I saw I had one minute left, hopefully, I stun these idiots and they give me a five. Looking at a bullseye target a few feet away, I exhaled, then threw all three at once, two in one hand, one in the other. The men watching, all the game makers, and the head gamemaker himself had suddenly stopped, all of their obnoxious noise getting too quiet. Looking up at them, the timer went off and I saw their dazed drunk faces, mouths wide open, some looking smug at my surprising display. "Thank you for your time, I expect a surprisingly low score head gamemaker." I was sickly sweet and plastered a smile on my face, a hidden meaning behind my words, that anyone could realize, especially the game makers, who seemed to snap out of their drunk hazes.