Elena quite likes the Opening Ceremony, silly as this may sound. Despite having to watch the Games ever since she can remember, she's still squeamish about blood and gore, so the initial festivities are the only part she can watch without a growing feeling of discomfort and anxiety, her imagination running wild as she anticipates new horrors that might wait around every corner.
So yes, it's better to look at a group of kids dressed in finery and paraded around the city.
Now that she's the one riding a chariot, all she can think about is the noise.
She always thought she was quite use to noise, having, for better or worse, grown up in the proximity of a paper mill, but that was nothing compared to the Capitol. No machine can match the noise of a huge, overexcited crowd howling and screaming what must be the names of their favorites, or maybe words of encouragement or expressions of genuine joy.
Next to her, Tyler is stiff and focused as if he were on a hunt, his eyes scanning the crowd in search of prey or sponsors. Either. Both? Whatever helps him get through the night.
Suddenly the chariot stops, and Elena finds herself standing in the middle of a semi-circle of tributes, directly facing a podium from which president Snow is about to speak. This is the first time she really has a chance to see the others – see them as people, and not moving pictures on a screen that never seem real enough. The girl from One has her eyes glued to the podium, serious and focused, but the girl from Four is carefully observing her competition, and Elena needs to make sure not to meet her gaze. In the Games, it won't do to look anyone in the eye.
"How many are there?" she hears close to her ear, and nearly jumps at the unexpected sound. Tyler's voice is barely above a whisper, but the proximity startles Elena, who, for a moment, forgot she wasn't alone on this chariot.
Somehow, she doesn't think he means the crowd.
Finally fatigue kicks in, and Elena doesn't register much from her way back to the Training Center. There's some hassle with the horses, and a crowd trying to reach elevators. Elena is sure that if it wasn't for Tyler's cool head, she'd never reach her room before midnight.
She goes to bed immediately, not caring about the recap of the ceremony they're supposed to watch on TV.
"They're going to kill me anyway, so I might as well get some sleep first," she tells Alaric because it sounds good in her head, but she takes care not to think too much about what she's saying.
In the morning, she wakes early out of habit, and since she can't think of anything to do in her strange, Capitol-made room, she drags her feet to breakfast. To her surprise, Alaric and Blight are already there, heads bowed over a single piece of paper. They look intimate like this, and it still makes Elena feel a touch uneasy.
"You're up early," says Blight, rubbing his eyes. Elena wonders if he slept at all. "Well, sit down and have some food. I recommend cookies."
The cookies really are amazing: crunchy, filled with nuts and dried berries, and some other fruit Elena can't even name. They seem plain for Capitol food – until she realizes that the ingredients must've come from three or four different districts, much more expensive than the chocolate cookies Grandmother Liz would always buy for their birthdays.
It takes Elena a moment to realize that she clearly interrupted something. The piece of paper in front of her mentors is mostly blank, and Alaric is fiddling with a pen, hesitant as if there was something they haven't quite agreed to write down yet.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," exclaims Blight suddenly. "Ric, quit the mystery. This is about her anyway."
"What's about me?"
"We're coming up with a strategy for the two of you," says Alaric with a sigh, and pushes the paper towards Elena.
It has barely a few words on it, "training," "interview," and "fashion," not that Alaric's handwriting is that easy to decipher. Before she has time to wonder what the other words could be, Blight speaks again:
"Listen, training starts today, and we want you to be friendly. Excited, even. Act as if coming here is the greatest achievement of your life."
"What?"
A male voice coming from the dining room's doorstep startles Elena, and she turns around immediately. Tyler's hair is messy, and Elena is fairly sure he slept in the shirt he's wearing, but there's no trace of sleepiness on his face. Behind him, Johanna is wearing a contemptuous smile.
"Exactly what I just said," states Blight calmly. "Be charming."
"And what are we supposed to do? Charm the other tributes to death?"
"You're not charming the tributes," says Johanna. "You're charming the Gamemakers."
Elena feels stunned, and, judging by Tyler's face, so does he.
"What Johanna means to say is: make a good impression," explains Blight slowly. "This is hardly a strategy, really. We know you're both excited to be here, and you want to do your best. I can't stress this enough: it's important that you make a good impression in training. The Gamemakers are watching you all the time, so there is no time for stage fright."
Which roughly translates into: this room is bugged, so we can't exactly spell out our strategy, but play nice today.
The meal is almost over when Elena glances once again at Alaric's notes, and realizes that at the bottom of the page there are a few words written in a slightly neater handwriting:
Make them think that you're just like them.
She leaves the elevator with her head full of disturbingly chirping advice, make sure to look at the weapons, and traps, oh my God, the traps, and aren't the swords exciting? She's never held a sword before in her life, but it doesn't matter: she's here to learn, and learn enthusiastically. According to Blight, she'd be surprised to learn how many skills a motivated person can master in three days.
They enter the gym boldly, Elena with a (hopefully convincing) air of curiosity, Tyler wearing his best wolfish smile. Alaric's words are ringing in Elena's mind as if she'd actually heard them said: make them think that you're just like them. Who did he mean? The other tributes? But that would be ridiculous; they're all as similar as it gets, an identical death sentence hanging over twenty three heads. Who, then?
The Gamemakers.
Just the thought is so revolting it makes Elena nauseous. The Gamemakers rejoice in fear and slaughter, and they'll kill all of them but one as the whole country watches. She could never be anything like them.
If Tyler feels the same, he doesn't let it show. He listens to the do-s and don't'-s given by a Capitol instructor, then enthusiastically moves to the archery station, where he picks up the biggest bow he can find. It's obvious he has no idea how to wield it, but he lifts it easily, and pulls a string. Soon, he's practicing in earnest, and acting as if shooting arrows at wooden targets was his childhood dream.
So Elena gets herself together, and goes to the knives station.
The instructor has her throwing knives for a full hour, and it's easier than she thought. She only gets her target dummy's head or chest a few times, but by the end of her session, she aims reasonably well, even if she hits arms and legs more than anything else. Slowing down is almost as good as killing.
After the hour, her shoulder hurts as if she's been setting fonts for two days straight, so she hatches herself onto an edible plants station to get some rest. It's more confusing than it should be. District Seven might be made mainly of forests, but Elena lived in town all her life, and she's been helping at the printing press since she can remember. Sure, her mother taught her how to make preserves from every possible berry, root, flower or mushroom lumberjacks' kids bring to the market, but she knows nothing of what they don't bring – of traps, of dangers and hidden poisons. Right now, she tries to memorize as much as she can, but she feels it won't do her much good.
She crosses paths with the girl from One by the spear-throwing station. To her surprise, she gives her a radiant smile, and extends her hand in greeting.
"I'm Caroline Forbes," she says, and everything about her seems genuine the way little in the Capitol does, so Elena shakes her hand and introduces herself without thinking that maybe she shouldn't.
"I remember you from the parade," she throws, the habit of making small talk stronger than the thought of the imminent fight to the death.
Caroline beams at the mention, proud as if she designed her costume herself.
"Have you already tried traps?" she asks, pointing at the station to their left.
"No," starts Elena quickly. "I've been at the knives, then…"
"Don't bother," interrupts Caroline. "The traps instructor is useless. Try knots instead. Now, that woman knows how to set a trap."
"Thanks, I will," replies Elena with a smile. For a second she feels as if she were home – exchanging books with Jenna, or picking printing projects with her dad.
Try knives, she wants to say. I really liked what they teach you do with them.
