0.10 ; ten reasons why | ✔

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0.10 ; ten reasons why


I practically stumble out of the gym, my display for the gamemakers turning over and over in my mind. Was it enough to get me a good score? Well, I guess I'll find out later.

I'm so far away in my own thoughts that I nearly walk straight into someone. "Oh gosh sorry I didn't see you there..." I mumble, trying to walk away quickly, thinking that it's one of the district 3 people. But then I turn around, and see Cato standing there. I must have walked into him. 

"How do you think you did?" he asks.

"Pretty good, I hope." I reply, trying my best to actually smile properly "Good luck Cato!" I call behind me as I turn and walk in the direction of the elevator.

When I get up to floor 2, I find Tallulah sitting on the sofa, watching some kind of Capitol television programme about the upcoming games, which involves Cladius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, and Caesar Flickerman, the interview host, laughing about something to do with the opening ceremony. Crystalline and Brutus are talking animatedly at the dinner table. I decide to go and join them.

I take my usual seat, and Crystalline raises her head and swallows her mouthful of cake. "Hey Clove!" she says, beaming "How did it go? What did you show them?"

"Well," I begin "I threw a load of knives around and then I did a bit of full speed running, kicked a dummy over mid-air, while throwing a knife at a climbing net, and then I did a kind of roll thing before the net could land on me. I know that probably makes no sense but I'm not that good at explaining things."

"That," says Crystalline, her face set in a straight line. Then it suddenly widens and she grins maniacally "Could give you a brilliant score! Unorthodox and unpredictable, just what they like to see. You'll get at least a 9 for that, I'm sure!" She applauds me, and Brutus follows her, nodding his head in an impressed kind of way.

That's okay: a 9 is a really good score. I'd be more than happy with a 9. It's the average career score, seeing as 11 and 12 are practically impossible to get,  and a 10 means that you're extremely good. A 9 would keep my spirits up until the actual games begin.

Cato arrives back around 20 minutes later, with a huge grin on his already overly arrogant face. He punches the air as he walks out of the elevator, then looks sheepishly around, embarrassed, as Crystalline and I burst into not-so-subtle giggles. "I'm guessing that you're happy with what you did?" I say, laughing.

"Yeah, I threw a few spears around, which ended pretty well, and then I decapitated half the sword dummies with a machete. Sounds good or what?" he says, excitedly. I can't help but smile at him. It's good when he isn't in maniac Cato the killing machine mode. You see the real him, rather than the arrogant boy from the academy.

"What did you do?" he asks.

"Oh well, I threw a load of knives around, kicked over a dummy in mid-air and took down the climbing net." I say, matter-of-factly, although it wasn't meant to come out like that.

"Sounds good" he says, sitting down at the table next to Brutus "And now we wait for the scores!"

The scores announcement floods on to the television screen after around an hour. I put away my art supplies, which I retrieved from my room, to pass the time, and lean back on the sofa. Hoping, hoping, that I get that 9.

"Well, citizens of Panem, the tributes this year are pretty good!" says Cladius Templesmith, then he takes a piece of paper from the desk in front of him, and begins "From district 1, Marvel, with a score of 9."

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