????? ??? ???? ? HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

TEN

We settle down to eat some of the deserts the Avoxes have brought out. There are still twenty more tributes to perform to the Gamemakers after Cato returns to the apartment, so we spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing and eating more sugary confections than I've probably ever seen in my entire life. The end result is that I'm feeling quite sick by the time dinner rolls around, and I can only manage half of my plate of stew before pushing it away from me.

The television springs to life halfway through the meal, Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman's faces coming into view on the giant screen. This is when they announce the scores to the rest of Panem – after tonight, everybody will know which tributes to sponsor when the Games begin in a couple of days' time.

Each tribute's face is flashed up on screen, followed by their training score, beginning with 1 through to 12 at the end. All of us are sitting on the edge of our seats at the table, and my stomach is not only reacting badly to the amount of cakes I've eaten today but the anxiety of the announcement too. Marvel's is the first profile to appear, accompanied by a large number nine below his picture. Glimmer follows him, with a glowing eight.

Exactly as I suspected, Cato pulls a ten. Brutus claps him on the back and the two of them whoop and cheer at his unquestionable success. Nobody will ignore a ten in the arena, and it will help our mentors gather sponsors with ease. And then I am staring at my own face and flashing on the screen below is another bright number ten to match Cato's. I huff a sigh of relief, suddenly filled with pride and Sidonia and Brutus are commending us both for our performance. It's an excellent score, one everybody back home will be happy with.

Today, we have done our District proud.

As if to solidify that thought, a hand clasps around mine beneath the table. When I look up, Cato's mouth is quirked in a dazzling smile, blue eyes glittering in the bright strip lights above the dining area. He squeezes his fingers around my own and I have to will my own heart back into action when it skips a beat.

Our mentors shower us with praise and the Avoxes bring us a second round of dishes which I politely refuse. The rest of the tributes average a five or six, but the boy from 11, Thresh, manages to scrape a nine. Cato's face seems to fall after that, suddenly reminded of the rejection of his offer to join our alliance. Something steels me to attention, and I find myself watching my District partner closely for fear he might storm off again like he did in the training centre.

The boy from 12 miraculously scores an eight, which I would never have guessed by the look of him. It has me wondering what he did in the gym to catch the Gamemakers' attention after twenty or so tributes and that much alcohol.

But when the girl on fire's picture flashes up on the screen followed by a glowing 11, and Claudius and Caesar's faces light up with glee, I almost feel the ripple of rage before I see or hear it. A vicious cry rips through the apartment as the dining table rocks and chairs clatter to the floor, tipped over by a furious Cato, who storms off down the corridor before I even have time to register my own anger, confusion.

What the hell did she show them in there?

I barely took any notice of the girl from 12 during our sessions, but I'm certain I didn't see her pick up a single weapon in the three days we were allotted for training. Perhaps she was hiding her skills to appear weak in the gym, but whatever she did today has brought her on to everybody's radar. After upstaging us in both the opening ceremony and, in some cruel twist of fate, the private sessions, the girl on fire has painted a target on her own back.

If she thought she had any chance of escaping the career alliance before, then she better rethink her strategy. As soon as that gong sounds, I have no doubt Cato will be looking for her, hunting her down until the bitch has to be sent back to 12 in pieces.