Chapter Six, Shooting Targets

❝ lights will guide you home ❞

❝ and ignite your bones. ❞

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"TOMORROW, THEY'LL BRING YOU IN ONE BY ONE and evaluate you. This is important, because higher ratings will mean sponsors. This is the time to show them everything. There'll be some knives, make sure you use them Jade. Peeta, make sure to show your strength. They'll start with District 1, so the two of you will go last. I don't know how else to put this. Make sure they remember you."

Haymitch's words from this morning play in my mind as the elevator shoots up, the bright blue colours of the lights piercing my eye-sight. 

I arrive in the narrow space, where all the tributes stay sitting onto respective chairs, anxiously peering down onto the floor, playing with their hair or jumping their legs against the metal floor.

I don't pay attention to my surroundings on the evaluation floor, until I hear my name being called by the robotic voice. My head shoots up, finally being glued off the ground. Only my district partner remains, and everything else around me stops being a fuzzy blur.

I glance at Peeta, my hands shaking from the fear and apprehension.

"Hey Jade, shoot straight." my district partner reassuringly comments, laying a comforting hand onto my shoulder.

I nod, getting up and making my way though the large doors, wanting nothing but the moment to be over.

"Thank you. And you, don't forget to show them just how strong you truly are." I finally add, getting a last glimpse of Peeta Mellark, smiling.

Entering the immense room, the dispersed attention of the Game makers immediately surprise me. Have they even noticed I was here? 

I walk towards the diversified range of knives, going from extremely pointy blades to machetes. I grab a few, similar knives and arrange them on my belt, making my way to the moving targets. 

It feels amazing to finally posses the weapon I had so badly wanted to use days before. I take a deep breath, squint my emerald eyes and prepare my move. In a matter of ten seconds, I've hit every single target right in the heart.

I beam in content, then looking over at the range of Game makers, expecting impressed expressions.

However, much to my growing disappointment, my supposed audience hasn't spared a single moment of their concentration to my skill. Instead, they cheer when dinner arrives on their podium, yelling in delight when a large pig arrives in the room.

I gulp, stress, annoyance, but essentially anger blurring my vision. My right hand reaches one of the knives left on the rack, and before regaining my senses, the knife flies across the room and hits the apple that resides into the pig's mouth in the center, pinning it to the rose-coloured walls.

The Game makers audibly gasp and peer down at me, their mouth completely agape. I numbly stare back, take a bow.

"Thank you for your consideration." I loudly declare.

Almost immediately, I step out of the bright room after putting back the blades, not daring to reflect on the consequences of my careless actions.

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"Are you crazy?" Effie screeches, pacing around the wide room, her lips forming into an intimidating frown.

"I just got mad, I mean they were completely ignoring me. It was humiliating." I try to defend myself, my heart weighing on my chest. Maybe it was true, maybe I had ruined any possible chance I previously had to gain sponsors, but on the moment, my actions were fuelled by anger at my audience.

"You do realise that your actions reflect badly on all of us. Not just you." Effie dramatically continues, her heels clinking onto the wooden floor.

"They just want a show. It's fine." my stylist mutters, clearly not on the same page as the nervous escort.

"How about it's just bad manners Cinna! How about that?" She pauses her speech, now addressing Haymitch.

"Well finally! I hope you noticed we have a serious situation!" Effie shrieks, expecting to receive a similar opinion from my mentor.

To my surprise, Haymitch gives me a joyful thumbs-up, pride oozing through his expression. I beam, relieved not everyone thought I was reckless, and quite frankly stupid.

"Nice shooting sweetheart." he playfully states. "What did they do when you hit the apple?" my mentor then asks, slumping down into his chair. 

"Well, they looked pretty startled." I reply, giggling a little, grateful for his unexpected approval.

"Now, what did you say, after you shot it?" he asks, leaning towards me.

"Thank you for your consideration." I voice, the room's atmosphere suddenly shifting, and I notice Effie's mouth quirking up a little at my response.

"Genius. Genius!" Haymitch continues, punching his fist through the air.

"I don't think we're going to find this funny if the Game makers decide to take it out on-" the escort intervenes, still anxiously pacing around the room.

"On who? On her? On him? I think they already have. Loosen your corset, have a drink. Jade, I would have given anything to see it." the man states, looking me right in the eye. 

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"As you know, the Tributes were rated on a scale of 1 to 12 after three days of careful evaluation. The Game makers would like to acknowledge that it was an exceptional round." I watch Caesar read off his cards, ready to announce the scores.

All of my team sits anxiously on the couch, their gaze enthralled by the screen, eager to learn what score District 12 has received this year. With fingers crossed, I bite down onto my bottom lip, extremely nervous, apprehension intertwining at my heart. The Game makers had probably hated my guts after my offensive action, arrogance lacing itself with my words and movements.

"From District 1, Marvel, with a score of 9."

"Glimmer, score of 8."

"From District 2, Cato Hadley with a score of 10."

I unintentionally blank out the rest of the scores until the screen reflects an image of my district number, a floating number turning around his body.

"From District 12, Peeta Mellark with a score of 8."

Gasps and screams of joy fill the room as I immediately smile the blond boy, squeezing his hand in pride and happiness. At least one of us managed to impress our audience.

"Good job." I whisper into his ear.

The television then shifts to a representation of my face, and I burry my head in my hands, breathing in and out in preparation.

"And finally, from District 12, Jade Everdeen, with a score of... 11!"

I can barely move, waves of bewilderment flowing through my bones. My ears collect the sounds of exclamations and congratulations, but I can only stare at my shaking palms, unable to discern reality from fiction. Peeta shaking my shoulder wakes me from my trance as he pronounces himself a heartfelt congratulations.

"I thought... I thought they hated me." I mutter, lost in thought.

"Hey, they must have liked your guts." Haymitch reassuringly replies. By now, a toothy smile has made an appearance on my face, translating my present ecstasy. 

"To Jade Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!"

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I look out at the city of Panem, laying under me, the bright lights and noise accompanying my interior excitement. I had managed to do something. Something that definitely put the odds in my favour. 

I play with the loose strands of my hair resting on my shoulders, silently appreciating the hairstyle Effie had taken time to do. It consisted of a half-ponytail, delicate braids contouring it. 

All my team had been buzzing with joy after the announcement, considering I was the one that had gotten the highest score in all of the candidates.

Everything felt surreal, as if it was a miracle. No one could underestimate me anymore.

Yet, I'm shortly distracted and pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of the elevator doors opening from behind me. I already guess who might just be the person standing behind me as I rapidly turn around. Cato.

His piqued demeanour causes an arrogant grin to place itself on my face. 

"Aw, guess someone got a better score than them." I taunt, hoisting myself up, standing tall.

For some reason, around the boy form District 2, I didn't feel the need to filter my responses or tip toe around my chosen words. Perhaps that would lead to my downfall, but I couldn't help myself from teasing the blond.

"How? How did you do it?" he angrily replies, advancing progressively closer to my face. My heart beats a millions time faster, but I couldn't let myself be intimated, since it was an evident sign of weakness.

"Hey, can't a girl keep secrets?" I manage back, in a false confident tone, affected by his unexpected proximity.

"I don't get it, how can you get a higher score than every single Career?" Cato states, his gaze brewing with anger and jealousy.

"Maybe because I'm better than you guys?" I argue, slightly insulted at his previous comment.

"Yeah, right" Cato says, rolling his cerulean eyes.

"What? Is it that hard to believe that a girl from 12 could beat you?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, slowly advancing towards the boy.

"You couldn't" he insists, before averting his vision back to me.

I can tell by the rising of the corners of his lips he no longer expects me to confide in him. Instead, he makes a final step towards me, removing any space left enough for me to breathe. He smoothly places his left hand on my waist while my instincts all tell me to run away as quickly as possible. 

However, I keep looking into his blue eyes until he leans dangerously close, and whispers into my ear, our cheeks brushing each other for a mere second.

"You better be careful, Everdeen, because if I find you in that arena, who knows if I'll stop myself."

I can feel my whole body heating up, but I somehow succeed to answer

"You can speak for yourself Hadley, but I might just be the one that ends up killing you. Who knows?" I whisper.

I get on my tip-toes and plant a short kiss on his cheek, taking a liking to the on-going teasing and competition that a poor girl from 12 and a talented boy from 2 now had. 

Then, I walk back to the clear, rapid elevator, fatigue guiding me back to my room. Before getting in, I look back and wink at Cato as a blush creeps onto his cheeks.