Chapter 16

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It was lunchtime, and all the tributes were lingering in the Dining room waiting for their private session with the Gamemakers. Suave was called on first who did not return even after Grace was called in.

Mira was nervously gnawing on her lip, not caring if it bled. She was too nervous to think about anything else, except the pressure she was putting on herself because she was from a career district. She did not want to disappoint her District. Noticing her agitation, Destan turned his head slightly towards her, his hair falling on his eyes. He did not bother to move them away as he quietly observed her from underneath his hair, shoulder on his knees and hands clasped together. Unlike his district partner, Destan was calmer and more composed.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to pacify the girl beside her. "Relax, Mira, you'll do just fine." "There's no need to pressure yourself; it's just scores. And besides-" Destan stood up when his name was called, looked down at Mira, and finished what he was saying, "Getting a high score only makes you die faster." Only when Mira finally released the bleeding lip between her teeth did Destan leave to enter the gymnasium.

She watched as the gymnasium doors closed after Destan, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Destan was right, there was no need to panic. And it's not like she would be the first career tribute to get a low score, right?

Every passing minute

"You're nervous, I don't get it. I thought careers should be confident considering you've been trained for this all your life." Mira snaps her head at the younger girl with ginger hair who is looking at her with such intensity that it makes Mira blush. She recalled that the ginger was from District 8, probably two years her junior, and that Twyla was her name. Aside from the careers, it was the first time someone from the other tributes had spoken to her. Like programmed, a smile automatically brightened her face, shocking the ginger even more.

"You're smiling, how strange. I was expecting a more- hostile look like the one Stone gave me earlier. Or is that a smile of deceit?" The girl was talkative, reminding her of little Seanna at home. She was still looking at her intently, not caring whether she was the only one talking in the dining room.

"I assure you; it is a genuine smile." Twyla beamed at her and moved closer to the older girl.

"I'm Twyla- you're Mira Fairkin." She interjects when she sees Mira open her mouth to introduce herself.

"My mentor said I should make strong allies. And lucky me, I made a career an ally." Twyla looked a little confident about what she said, which worried Mira. Instead of showing her true emotions, she masked them with a chuckle, not letting her words get to her. "Well, there's nothing special about me though."

"Nonsense, everybody is special. And looking at you- you're the complete package." Mira only smiled softly before her name was called out alerting her that it was her turn. Before she stood up, she placed her hand into the girl's freckled one, looked into her blue eyes, and sincerely said, "I wish I were too Twyla."

She walked into the gymnasium while tightening her ponytail. It's as if her hair felt her anxiety and the band she used to tie her hair would give out any second. She bit her lip as she looked up towards the game makers who were eyeing her with such focus and interest, it made blood rush up to her face.

So much for being confident.

Mira decided to avert her gaze to the weapons before her and stared at it for a second, contemplating. She turned back up to the game makers who looked as if they were in a trance, most had their lips parted, eyes never leaving hers. They were staring and it made Mira nervous. She immediately reminded herself that they did not have all day and were waiting for her to do something. Quickly, she grabbed the trident, weighing it on her hand as Destan had done on the first training day. She decided to check if the game makers were still paying attention to her, especially when she took longer to do something. She felt the band to her hair loosen but did not mind. Instead, she was there, a trident in her hand, having a staring contest with the game makers.

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