TheGirlWithTheStories
Pre-Game Preparations – Maysilee Donner
CHAPTER TWO:
Training was a bitch. Day one at least. I stayed on my own, practicing archery and rope tying. It wasn't until the day two that I got an audience. Haymitch Abernathy. He was quite the looker as well. His dark curly hair tousled and strong jaw clenched. He looked as though he was troubled. What a coincidence, so was I… Maybe if we – no, I can't, he is my enemy. He is my prey. I quickly pushed Haymitch out of my mind.
Knife-throwing was usually my strongest suit, but today there was something off about it. I couldn't even hit the target whereas yesterday I got bull's eyes every time. That damned Haymitch, clouding over my mind with his soft hair and entrancing gray eyes… Damn it, Maysilee! Pay attention, I chided myself. There's just something about him… No, I'm better off without him and he has a girl back home. That was my reason for not getting close. I didn't want to have to kill him, but if it's what could get me to my sister and parents again, then I'll have to. Already a murderer and the Games haven't even started.
Showing my skills to the judges went horribly. My nerves got to me and I almost knifed a Capitol woman through the face. I hope they don't give me too low a score for that. Of course I knew how to do much more than knife-throwing, but at that moment, I didn't think I could handle anything but what I've been doing all my life. It's too bad I couldn't put to use everything I learned during my time with Gracie. She taught me which plants were used for what. In fact, I had quite an extensive knowledge of many topics dealing with apothecary as well. I wish I could have just made all the tributes eat poisoned berries or something. I just felt that maybe knife-throwing had that little bit of extremity I needed to get me that good score. Not too many points though, that could get me killed.
When I sat down at dinner that night, the training scores came onto the screen. Haymitch received an eight, the other two a six and seven. Then my name came up. Maysilee Donner – Ten. The color drained from my face, I couldn't shake the fear that gripped my heart in its icy, cold hands. I managed to hide my emotions long enough to accept everyone's congratulations, but Haymitch saw right through my charade. He knew exactly what had happened. I don't know how, but he definitely knew.
The next morning I was told to keep my eyes shut while my prep team worked on me.
"They have to be shut the whole time, sugar pie," my lead stylist, Jasper, had told me. He was always calling me a variety of food-related nicknames. "Sugar pie" was better than "lemon cake" or "chocolate puff". I didn't understand half of his nicknames, but I am smart enough to know not to mess with the person who puts make-up on my face.