Chapter Four

The next day is exhausting. I put all my strength into training. Marcus is pleased to hear that I'm willing to be his ally, and he immediately assigns me a training partner for a few different skills. Athena is something of an expert when it comes to archery, so she gives me a few pointers that the trainer doesn't mention. "Always aim for places higher than the waist," she says, sending her arrow directly into the dummy's heart. "Those are almost guaranteed kills."

When I try to skewer an arrow through the dummy's chest, it just gets stuck in the wall behind it, so Athena sends me to Brandon, who is waiting to teach me about handling axes.

Brandon hands me an axe and I almost collapse at the weight. He smirks as I lift it with shaky arms. "Good. Now hit the dummy," he says. I look at him defiantly and swing the weapon with all my might. The axe sticks in the dummy's torso with a satisfying thud. "Not bad. Take it out and do it again," Brandon instructs. I pull on the axe handle, but it doesn't budge. I grip it firmly between both hands and tug. Brandon starts to laugh as I yank at the axe, and I have half a mind to cut his head off right now. That is, if I ever get this stupid thing out of the dummy.

I prop my foot on the dummy's thigh and push off. I fall to the ground, axe in hand. Brandon is laughing so hard that every single tribute is staring at me. I can feel blood rushing to my cheeks as I shove the axe into his waiting hands.

When lunch finally arrives, my muscles are screaming in protest and my head is pounding with a fierce headache. All I can do is pick at my food and rub my temples while the other tributes at my table babble about their mornings.

"What do you think, Annie?" asks Marcus. I look up from my soup. "Huh?" I say, bewildered. "About the pair from 11. What do you think about them?" Marcus points to them, sitting at a table across the lunchroom, laughing quietly as they eat their sandwiches.

I examine them. I remember the girl from the reaping, with her warm brown skin and dark curly hair. She's built much better than most of the other girls, and she still looks a little too mischievous for my liking. The boy is something of a monster. He must have at least a hundred pounds on me, with his height and muscle.

I shrug. "I think the girl is much more of a concern. She looks much smarter than the other one," I say, twirling my straw in my juice. Marcus nods, a smile forming on his lips. "That's what I thought too."

Before he can ask me anything else, Atala announces that our lunch break is over and it's time to get back to training. I head over to fire building, where the trainer sets me to work with a flint, some dried leaves, and a small pile of wood. I struggle with the fire for twenty minutes before a set of arms wrap around me from behind and take the flint from my fingers. Marcus. "You're not striking it quickly enough," he says, his voice just barely audible. I watch as he strikes the flint again and again, and soon a shower of sparks erupts and the wood catches on fire.

I squirm away from him and leave the station. Marcus catches up to me quickly. "Want me to teach you a thing or two about swords?" he asks. A sigh bubbles to my lips. I'm not getting rid of him any time soon, so I might as well learn something while he's here. "Yeah, sure," I say. Marcus smiles, and I can't help but think that he's not too bad looking. Then I remember that he probably already has a plan to kill me, so I dismiss the thought.

We reach the sword station and Marcus finds me a short sword with a thinner blade compared to the others. It's much lighter than the one I used yesterday, and I can actually lift it. Marcus chooses a much larger sword with a broad blade and wields it with ease. "Think of the sword as an extension of your arm," he says, positioning himself in front of a dummy. He stands with his legs slightly apart, one foot in front of the other, and holds out his arms, ready to strike. Then, as quick as lightning, he beheads the dummy, and it clatters to the floor.

I try to copy his stance, legs apart, bend forward just a tiny bit. I hold the sword out in front of me and imagine it fused to my hand. I tear open the canvas of the dummy's chest. The force of my blow makes me stumble a little, but I catch my balance. I look at Marcus for an evaluation. "That's pretty good for your first time," he says. "We won't really need you to attack much; you just need to be able to defend yourself." He says this in a way that makes me feel like a child being told what they can and can't do, and it sets my teeth on edge. My cheeks flush with color. Frustrated, I jam my sword in the dummy's chest. Right through the heart.

Marcus raises his eyebrows. I pull my sword from the dummy, my gaze never diverting from his. I don't say anything as I walk away, but my message is clear: Don't underestimate me.

That evening after dinner, Finnick comes to my room again. "How was training?" he asks. "Alright, I guess," I say, crossing the room to order some food from the microphone built into the wall. I order a bowl of broth and then sit back down next to Finnick with my legs tucked underneath me. "Marcus had the District 2 girl give me an archery lesson. I wasn't very good at it," I say.

"Did you learn anything else?"

"I made a complete idiot of myself trying to throw axes."

"You're that bad?"

"Shut up, Finn."

"I was kidding."

"I know."

My broth arrives and Finnick brings it to me. I sip at it quietly for a few minutes. "How did lunch go?" he asks. "I just sort of sat there. I had a headache," I say. "And after lunch?" asks Finnick. "I built a fire. Then Marcus helped me with sword training," I say. "How did that go?"

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. "I went all drama queen on him. He was treating me like… like a pet or something, and I just lost my temper. Stabbed a dummy through the heart," I explain. This makes Finnick laugh. I shoot him a dirty look. "What?" he says innocently. "You put him in his place. Serves him right." I roll my eyes and set the bowl of broth on the nightstand next to my bed. "I'm just afraid he'll see me as a threat now," I confess. Finnick waves his hand dismissively. "He just has all the more reason to keep you as an ally," he says. I chew on my lower lip. I really don't have the energy or time to speculate on Marcus's thoughts of me, so I drop the subject.

"What are you going to do for your private session with the Gamemakers?" asks Finnick. I smack myself in the forehead. How could I have forgotten? During lunch on the last day of training, each tribute will be pulled for a fifteen minute session to show the Gamemakers what you're made of. Then each of us will be given a score on a scale of one to ten to reflect how we did, since what happens in that session is not revealed to the public. Sponsors usually fund the high scoring tributes, and don't bother wasting their precious time or money on the ones that score anything lower than a five.

Finnick is looking at me. He wants an answer. "Uh. I don't know? Throw knives and hope I get lucky? Maybe slash some stuff?" Finnick nods slowly. "That's a good a plan as any," he says. He gets up to leave. "Hey, Finn?" I say as he's about to turn the door handle. Finnick looks back at me. "I'm sorry I'm not trying harder," I say quietly, looking down at my hands.

Finnick's hand drops to his side. He kneels down in front of me. "Annie, listen to me. Don't you dare be sorry. All of this is my fault. Actually, no. It's no one's fault. It's the Capitol's fault. Never forget that. Okay?" he says so quickly and quietly that I have trouble catching every word. I give him the smallest nod of my head. "Do you understand me?" he asks. Again, I nod. Finnick takes my hand and looks at me with such intensity that I feel like he's staring right into my soul. "Do you understand me?" he repeats. "Yes. Yes I understand," I say.

His grip on my hand relaxes, his face softens. "Good," he says. "Good." Finnick stands up. "Focus on knife-throwing tomorrow. You'll need it if you want to get a decent score," he suggests. "Okay," I say. "Okay," he confirms. Then he leaves.

I take a long bath and come out smelling like oranges. On the bathroom counter is something I hadn't noticed before: my seashell barrette. Symone must have had someone put it there after the Opening Ceremonies. I clutch the clip tightly in my hands and think of my mother. It helps me relax.

I slip a nightgown over my head and climb into bed. When I fall asleep, I have a terrible nightmare where each tribute takes turns in slicing off small chunks of my skin, until I'm just a bloody body writhing on the ground. I wake covered in sweat and look out the window. The sun is just rising over the Capitol. There's no use in trying to sleep again, so I bathe once more, dress in my training outfit, and lay on my bed until it's time to eat.

Breakfast is spent in silence. The past three days have really taken their toll on Keld and me. Our eyes are rimmed with dark circles and although we've gotten a little stronger, it's obvious in the way we move that we're sore. Not even Finnick is talking, just picking at his omelet, never looking up from his plate. Roni walks in late, grabs a piece of toast, and says through a full mouth, "Let's go! We're running late!"

Keld and I follow her to the elevator and she rides with us on the way down to the gymnasium. She pats our heads like we're dogs and wishes us luck in our private sessions, and then she zips back up to the district floor.

I walk straight to knife throwing and throw until my arms hurt. Only thirty-seven of the eighty-nine shots I take go where I want them to. Before I can improve my aim, Atala is calling us to lunch. I eat a sandwich while tributes are called to their private sessions. The people at our table exchange tense nods as each name is called. Since we're called in order of our districts, soon just Keld and I remain. He stares at his water glass intently. Someone calls his name and he stands. "Hey, um, good luck," I say quietly. Keld nods. "You too," he says, and then he walks back into the gymnasium, where the Gamemakers await him.

As I wait, I throw pretend knives at the wall, practicing the right way to flick my wrist. Too soon, someone's saying my name. I stand up and throw my shoulders back, lift my chin, and walk into the gymnasium.

The Gamemakers are chattering loudly when I enter. They eat many foods that I don't recognize from a banquet table. I stand awkwardly in front of them and try to smile. "Annie Cresta, correct?" asks the Head Gamemaker. I nod. He leans forward to examine me. He waves his hand to the weapons, an obvious indicator that I should begin.

First, I drag a dummy that hasn't been skewered or slashed yet to the center of the gymnasium so the Gamemakers can see me better. I pick up a few of the knives I've been practicing with, and grab the short sword Marcus had me use in case they get bored. I stand about six feet from the dummy and throw a knife. It lands in the shoulder, inches from the heart, which I was aiming for. To make it seem like I intended to throw it there, I aim for the other shoulder, and to my surprise, it makes it.

I take a few steps back, pick a serrated knife and this time, I aim for the head. The knife lands a little to the right of where the nose on a person would be. Again and again I throw, hitting areas that would cause some pretty nasty injuries, until the dummy has a dozen knives sticking out of it. I quickly pull out the knives and set them on the floor, and then start to use the sword. I slash an X in the dummy's chest, and then cut its throat. When I stab the dummy through the heart, a few people even clap. I pull out the sword and look at them. "Thank you, Annie. You may go now," says the Head Gamemaker. I whisper a small thanks and dart out of the gymnasium.

I tap my foot impatiently as the elevator rises to the fourth floor. The doors open and Finnick is waiting for me. "So, how did it go?" he asks. I shrug my shoulders. "Could've been better. Could've been worse," I say. When I look down at my hands, I see that they're shaking violently. I twist them together to keep them still. "Are you alright? You look a little green," says Finnick. I put one hand to my forehead to find that it's covered in cold sweat. "I'm fine. That was just a little nerve-racking," I reply. "You should probably go lay down," Finnick suggests. I nod and he leads me to my room. Once I'm inside, I kick off my training boots and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

A few hours later, Roni bursts into my room, screaming for me to get up so we can view the scores. She continues to shout at me as I move around the room sluggishly, and doesn't even turn away when I change out of my training outfit. It takes me just over four minutes to get ready, and Roni insists that I had better hurry up right now or I won't have a chance to see the other tribute's scores. I know that they'll be re-running the scores all night and consider telling her this, but given her mood, I rule against it.

Finnick, Keld, and Mags are scrunched up on a couch near a television. Roni pulls up a chair for herself, so I'm left to wedge myself between Keld and Finnick. "You'll do fine," Finnick assures me.

I clutch the fabric of the couch in my fingers as the Capitol seal flashes across the screen. They'll show a picture of the tribute, and then give them a score. That's it. Marcus's picture pops up first, since he's the boy from District 1, and he gets a 10. I start to feel dizzy. Next is Ruby, who earns herself an 8. Districts 2 and 3 flash past, and then comes District 4. Keld's picture is accompanied by a 9. Then mine, with a seven. A seven!

My hand curls around Finnick's wrist. "I got a seven," I say, as if to tell myself it's true. "I got a seven," I repeat. Finnick grins widely for a moment, but then turns his attention back to the screen. The girl from 11 that I was worried about scores ten. I learn her name is Alexandra. Both tributes from District 12 get threes, and then the program ends.

I am unable to speak. I was expecting maybe a four or five, but seven? That's better than I could have ever hoped for. Keld seems unphased by his score. He's busy scribbling down names and scores on a pad of paper and chattering quietly with Mags.

"You know, if we're going to be allies, we'd best act like it," I say before I can stop myself. Everyone in the room stares at me. My hands fly to my mouth. I look around, a deer caught in headlights. Keld does something I don't expect: he laughs. He puts the paper with the names and scores scribbled on it in my lap. "Sorry," he says. "You're right, we're a team here." Mags nods her head. "I say the more you two tell each other, the better. Find out one another's weaknesses and strengths, and if you work together you might even be able to set out on your own without the big guy from One," she says.

"Mags is right, but you should stick with Marcus. Just for a while, at least," Finnick interjects. "I wouldn't put it past him to try and get rid of you if you're not on his team." He stands and pushes a button on a remote to summon an Avox. "Tell you what, Mags and I will leave you two can strategize on your own, and you can tell us all about it in the morning." A brown-haired Avox girl enters the room. "Would you mind getting these two some dinner?" asks Finnick. The Avox nods and dashes off to get Keld and me some food. She and two boys return with trays and plates of food. The boys set a tray and a plate in front of each of us, and the girl hands Mags and Finnick glasses of champagne. The Avoxes bow and disappear.

Finnick takes a long swig of his champagne. "Well," he says, flinging his arm around Mags's shoulder, "Mags has the privilege of accompanying me out to dinner." Mags snorts. "Don't flatter yourself, Odair." Finnick leads Mags out of the room. "Have fun!" he calls out, and then they're gone.