Chapter 3- Where I Learned How To Kill
Before the asignments, training was basic conditioning. We mostly ran and lifted wieghts and learned to climb and swim. But once we had our assigned year, training turned into weapons class.
So for the next few weeks, Marcus had me trying every weapon from a javelin to a blow gun. Nothing really stuck. That is, until the knives.
We were running out of options and Marcus and Cato were desperate. "You can run fifteen miles and swim across a lake but you cant shoot a bow! " Marcus exclaimed.
"Maybe that's it." I could see the wheels in Cato's head turning as he spoke. "Maybe the problem with the weapons she's been trying are to bulky or long or akward to run with. Maybe she needs something kind of pocket size. "
Marcus looked at him thpughtfully. "Alright, let's see what I got."
We walked to the back of the center to a rack. This rack was stocked with different kinds of knives. Knives as long as my arm and as small as my pinky finger. Some had jagged ridges, some were smooth and slender, others were curved with nasty hooks.
"Okay Clove, here's what I want you to do". Marcus flipped some switches and the corner of the center came to life with targets shaped like people. "Pick a few knives and put them in this belt. Okay great now put on the belt... Alright now this is what's going to happen. I'm going to flip this switch to level one out of five. And when I do that thosw targets are going to turn green and move around. When a target turns green, you throw a knife at one of the three circles which represent where a fatal hit would be. If the target turns red, you got 'em. If the target turns blue, it got you. Got it? Let's give it a whirl! "
So I gave it a whirl. And I nailed it. Marcus moved me all the way to level five and hitting nearly every target fataly. Not one turned blue.
When I completed level five I turned around to see all the tributes in training staring (some glaring) at me. And then i heard someone start to clap. It was Cato, grinning from ear to ear, absolutley beaming at me. And in that moment, I didn't think about the 74th Hunger Games. I just thought about Cato.
After training that night Cato and I went to the bakery to celebrate my accomplishment. Cato went all out and splurged on a toasted tomato, basil, and cheese loaf. Talk about delicious!
"Congrats my dear! One year after learning your assignment you finally find your weapon! Here's to learning how to survive, Clove. "
"Yup. And here's to learning how to kill. "
Cato didn't know how to respond to that, and maybe I shouldn't have said it, but what's the point in denying an inevitable truth?
So we sat and ate our bread and reflected on what we were really training for
