At the end of the day, Maximus comes to escort us back to our floor. I see his lip curl slightly in disgust as he sees just how sweaty – and probably smelly – we are, but he somehow manages to keep any remarks to himself.

As the elevator doors part, he rushes into the corridor. "Perhaps you four should wash and then come to dinner. I'm sure Acacia will love to hear what you've been up to today."

While I'm thankful for the shower to ease my stiff muscles, what I really want to be doing is sleeping. But I allow myself to stand in the deliciously warm water for a while and just think.

I finally managed, after almost three hours at the blades station, to hit the middle of the target. I heard Rouge give a small noise of disbelief, possibly a swear or two, and I couldn't resist flashing her a smug grin. Then she threw a knife at her own practice dummy with such force it stuck fast.

I'm going to have to ask Acacia if I can stay practising with the knives one more day, then on the last day before lunch, and our private sessions, I can work on survival skills. Not that I need that much. I'm something of an expert when it comes to which plants we can eat and which ones would kill us instantly. Everyone in District 12 is.

I scrub myself down with a strawberry-scented soap and turn the water off. Then I change into a short-sleeved shirt and trousers. As I walk around my room, towelling my hair off, I realise how quickly I've adjusted to the Capitol's luxuries. How normal it feels to press a button on the wall, say what food we want, and have a servant bring it to me in little more than I minute.

I feel sick as I think of my family, eating what little food Burnet might have managed to trade for, washing in a generations-old bath, and waiting. Waiting to see our interviews and our training scores. Waiting to see who kills us. Waiting to have our bodies sent home in nothing more than a wooden box.

I toss aside the towel, roughly comb out the tangles in my hair, and make for the dining room.

Surprisingly, I arrive before any of my fellow tributes. Acacia sits next to Maximus, and smiles pleasantly as I take my place at the table.

"You seem to have attracted the attention of the trainers. I've heard that you were at the knife station, trying over and over again until you hit a bulls-eye. The Gamemakers noticed, too. They think you're very determined. Well done," she says.

I nod, accepting the praise. I didn't do that well, but I was certainly determined. As a servant steps up and pours me a glass of juice, I take the opportunity to ask Acacia.

"I was wondering if I might be able to spend tomorrow working with the knives again," I say. "I'm really enjoying it, and I want to be good at it. I don't want to go down without a fight."

Acacia takes a sip of her wine, which earns her a disapproved look from Maximus. She ignores him and watches me thoughtfully. She looks at me for so long I think she's not going to answer me, when she finally speaks.

"And what about the other things you need to practise? I don't want you to be like the Careers, only knowing how to handle a weapon and ultimately dying from something you could've prevented if you'd listened to me."

"I can spend the time we've got before our private sessions the day after, can't I? And I know which plants I can eat and which ones I can't. And there's one girl –"

"So it's not about training, it's about rivalry," Acacia smiles. "She wouldn't happen to be from One, would she?"

How does she know this? All I can do is stare at her with my mouth wide open, and she nods.

"Yes, I thought so. Rouge, I think her mentor said her name was. That girl's taken notice of you. Apparently she was working with the knives alongside you, and she told her mentor you kept giving her odd looks."

I start to protest. "No! It was once! I might've smiled smugly at her when I hit the target, but that was it. She was trying to intimidate me."

"What's this?" Ember plops down into the seat beside me. His hair is slightly damp and he smells vaguely of oranges.

"Your sister wants an extra day of training with the knives. Says it's because of a rivalry with another tribute," explains Acacia.

"That girl from One?" He doesn't seem surprised in the slightest. "Yeah, I can understand that. But you know what she's said, Melia. We have to do other things, you can't just work on the cool-looking side of things."

"It's not about how cool it looks!" I say, appalled that he would say that. "You saw that girl! She was deliberately trying to intimidate me! She was trying to make me seem small and weak."

"I know, I know, but what would you rather, dying quickly by being jumped by another tribute run through with a spear, or slowly starving to death?" He's trying to make me feel better, I can see that, but it's not working.

My voice rises both in pitch and volume. "I don't want to die at all! Why do you think I spent so much time with the knives today? Do you think it's because they look cool? No! It's because even if I can hide away by myself with an abundance of water and food, there's going to be a point where I have to defend myself. The Gamemakers will make sure of that! When I die, I don't want to be a sobbing mess because I never worked with weapons. I want to cause my killer some damage."

Ember puts his hand out defensively. "Melia, that's not what I meant. Calm down. Please."

"NO!" I shout. "I'm so sick of you acting like Dad! You think you're so helpful, but you're just a pain. I might have listened to you a few years, maybe even a few months ago. But things are different now! At some point you're going to have to learn that I'm not just gonna accept everything you have to say. Maybe Kaitlynn and Burnet were right when they said you're just a stupid kid trying to act grown-up."

I stand up so suddenly I knock the table and send several glasses flying, including my own and Acacia's, and stalk from the room. Haymitch and Bailey have been standing in the doorway, their eyes wide, but I shoved past them both and hurry to my room.

My eyes burn, and I wipe them furiously on the back of my hand. Behind me I hear Maximus asking if someone should follow me, but Acacia tells him to just leave me alone.

I throw myself down on my bed, making sure to bury my face in the pillow before I let out a howl. It's rare that I scream like that, let alone at Ember, but it's too much now. It's too much.

I scream into the pillow, I pummel it with my fists, then I get up off the bed and let all of my anger out. I start throwing things. The blankets, the pillows, the sheets, I even try and heave the mattress from the bed. I hurl my glass of water at the wall so the glass sprays everywhere, then I pull open the drawers and start flinging clothes across the room.

When I'm finished, I just sit back on the bed, panting. It's almost dark out, and the lights from the Capitol are beginning to glitter through the window. I realise my anger might not have been directed at my brother. It was probably just the start of many challenges for us both.

But he didn't even try and stop me. He didn't try and go after me. Isn't he supposed to be looking after me?

I sit in the darkness, listening to the shouts of these loud Capitol people. I hear footsteps and look up, expecting – hoping, almost – that it's Ember come to tell me everything will be all right, but the door across the hall opens and shuts, and the footsteps recede.

I'll wait a bit longer. Yes, that's what I'll do. And then I'll show Acacia and Ember and Rouge what I'm capable of.

Once I'm certain everyone is in bed, I braid back my hair again and put on my boots. I step carefully over the mess I've made, telling myself I'll clean it all up later. I quietly open the door and run down the hallway to the elevator. As I press the button for the underground floor, I'm thankful it isn't like the clunky, loud elevator back home in the Justice Building.

My stomach flips as I go whizzing down to the gymnasium. It's not even ten o'clock yet, but I'm certain nobody will be there. Sure enough, as the doors slide open, I'm greeted only with the dimmed-down lights and the empty stations.

I can see enough to know where I'm going and what I'm trying to hit. I select several knives and aim the first at one of the bull's-eyes. The third ring from the centre.

I throw again and again until I've hit the middle and most of my knives are quite close, Somewhat satisfied, and knowing I won't get much better, I move on to the dummies. As I hit each body part, I mutter them under my breath.

"Head, neck, chest, arm, thigh."

Perhaps I should stop throwing them and work on more hand-to-hand combat, I think. I look round. I know I saw one of the boys from Four hacking away at a dummy that seemed to move by clockwork.

There's a control pad on the wall behind the targets. Maybe if I mess around with that, I can set the practice dummies to move like they did earlier... But I decide against it. I can practise with those tomorrow. I don't care what Acacia says. She can't pick me up bodily and force me to work at the rope tying or the edible plants station. Neither can Ember, not that he would try to.

But since Acacia said I should work with a variety of weapons, I decide to put the knives carefully back on the rack and pick up a bow and an arrow. I've seen tributes use these before, and they were something of a hot spot with my fellow competitors today.

I hook the notch of the arrow onto the bowstring and pull it back, aiming at a target rather shakily. As I let the arrow fly, it's immediately obvious I'm incompetent with these weapons. The arrow hits the side of the target and bounces away. I close my eyes, wracking my brain for any memory of the way tributes in the past used a bow. I see a boy with dark hair, drawing back the arrow, his feet wide, his back straight...

I grit my teeth and pull back another arrow, trying to replicate his stance. My elbow was too far forward, my body twisted at awkward angles, as though I was just trying to stand front-on to the target and shoot. When I shoot again, my arrow lodges near the bottom of the bull's-eye. It's not brilliant, but it's an improvement.

I try again and again. Some arrows hit the target, some fly too far, some skim along the floor like a stone on a lake. I get more and more frustrated with myself and I nearly snap the bowstring as I yank back another arrow.

I give an annoyed groan, ready to scream. I can't do this anymore. I've been down here for hours, and I'm tired and hungry. I pull my arrows from the target, pick up the ones that missed completely, and place them all back on the rack.

"I'll practise with you tomorrow," I whisper, then I walk back to the elevator and try to ignore the churning in my stomach as I whiz back up to the District Twelve floor.