The food at the Academy was nutritious and plentiful, made especially to fuel growing bodies during training, but that was just meaningless stuff to be eaten, like throwing wood scraps into a furnace. Every bite of the dinner on the train to the Capitol is almost as difficult to eat as the Gemcake by itself. I ask Bolgee Boh about the fantastic gossamer-iced cake that is on the sideboard, since it is at least two feet wide, and there is no way that even Chrome and I together can eat the whole thing. I am horrified when he laughs at me, and says that people in the Capitol eat just a piece or two and then throw the rest away. I can't bring myself to do that, at least not tonight. I fill my plate with a wide selection of the amazing food that is available, and try to arrange it into something attractive enough to be worthy of the chef who created it. Chrome hesitates while he chooses what to put on his plate as well. His arrangement looks somewhat better than mine. Bolgee Boh chuckles. "Your District chose Plush to be your mentor this year, and she should be along shortly. " He slurps a mouthful of soup, a creamy concoction swirled with orange gloss. Some of it drips onto the pristine white tablecloth. "I imagine it was very difficult to pick someone to mentor you two…District 1 has so many accomplished prior winners. Oh look, the recap is on!" He gestures excitedly to the television. "I haven't had a chance to see any of the live broadcasts of the Reaping. District 1 is first, and oh, see! There's our Dazzle!"
I see myself walking up to the stage, and I involuntarily compare myself to what I saw of my family earlier. I look like them, light brown hair and blue eyes, wide mouth and high cheekbones. But where they are thin and sallow, I am muscular and strong. Father walks slightly hunched over, something that I didn't notice until I see myself on video walking straight and tall. Mother looks feverish. My eyes are clear. Chrome looks magnificent, all hard lines and coiled power. I wonder how I could ever win in the arena over someone like that. Then I remember that I have actually beaten him fairly, many times, and I smile to myself.
I pay close attention to the rest of the highlights. I know that I won't be able to tell anything certain about the other tributes until I actually meet them during practice. But my trained eye watches, assessing for possible strengths and weaknesses. I knew that the boy and girl from District 2 were obvious threats, even before I see them or hear their names. Like District 1, it has its own system of pre-educating its tributes, even though it is supposedly illegal. The girl's name is Callida. At first I wonder whether she is actually a boy, but as soon as I see her walk more than a few steps, I realize that she is a very sinewy and angular young woman with closely cropped dark hair. The boy, Gaius, is even larger than Chrome, heavy and solid, with the musculature of an ape. He walks like one too, with swinging arms and thrusting shoulders. I suppress a giggle. Bolgee Boh shoots me an annoyed look and returns his adoring gaze to the television.
District 4 is the second contender that I must seriously consider. They do not have as consistent a history of training tributes for the Games as we and District 2 do, but it is always safe to assume that you will face strong tributes from there. The girl is healthy-looking, with naturally dark skin and long black hair. I can't hear her name over Bolgee Boh's exclamations. I can tell from the way she is subtly sizing up individuals that she has had some training as a fighter. I am not sure about the boy, though. I can't even guess how old he is. He's very small, like a child, but he is rugged-looking and wiry, with an extraordinarily dark tan that hides the condition of his skin. His sun-bleached hair is tattered and shaggy, and it blows into his eyes as he is prompted several times to tell the audience that his name is Kier Cauley.
The only other tribute that stands out to me during the highlights is a tiny girl from District 9. The Capitol representative calls her name, and the silence from the crowd is so profound that we can actually hear the sound of the wind in the wheat fields that surround them. Finally, she hobbles toward the stage. Her spine has a severe outward curve. Her hips are tilted and she sways precariously on bowed legs. What I thought at first was a child is actually nearly an adult woman, her height has been stunted by her misshapen back. There is only a spattering of half-hearted applause in response to the representative's cheery call, which quickly cuts to scenes from District 10's Reaping.
Plush comes into the car as they are showing District 12. She shakes her head as the two skinny, terrified tributes are led from their stage. Their mentor starts to follow them, weaves drunkenly for a few steps in the wrong direction and then stumbles face-first into a support beam. "Well, those two don't have to worry about getting sponsors," she quips to no one in particular.
Chrome and I were little more than babies during the 52nd Hunger Games, but we've seen the reruns of Plush's victory in the swampland arena. Her spectacular ambush attack from inside the carcass of a dead alligator always makes the Top Ten lists. This is the first time we've actually met her. The Academy knows it would be pushing the limits of what the Capitol is willing to let slide if it is generally thought that the former victors were training tributes for their Districts. She drops into a comfortable chair at the table, and tucks her hair behind her ear. "You two know how to fight," she begins matter-of-factly, "But winning the Games is more than just being able to use weapons. In the past, when our tributes have lost, it is because they were arrogant. They took dumb risks because they thought they were so strong that they didn't have to worry about the rest." She leans forward, making sure that Chrome and I are absorbing her words. "Either one of those scared little coal miners we just saw from 12 can swing a pick hard enough to break a rock, or your head. Tributes often know how to do other nasty things too, like setting trip lines and starting mudslides. You have more physical reserves than they do, but some of them can survive nearly indefinitely on grubs and stripped bark. Just because they are poor doesn't mean they are stupid or helpless, and both of you need to remember that. They will surely kill you if you give them the chance. So you're not going to give them the chance. Ally yourselves with some of the other tributes, right at the beginning. You will be able to watch each other's backs and pick off those outliers, so you don't have to worry about them when the real combats start."
"And we'll be able to see the stronger tributes in action," muses Chrome, "so by then we'll know who to watch out for."
"True," Plush agrees. "But they'll be trying to get information about you too. So pick something you want them to know about you, and stick with it. You, Chrome, I hear that you are good with a sword?"
He nods. "Any sword. Or two."
"Use just one to start with, and really show off with it. Let everyone know that you are the swordsman. That way if you have to throw or stab with something else, no one will be sure of exactly what you can do." She turns to me. "Which do you like better, spear or light staff?"
"Light staff." I am fine with either of them, but my best is actually dual blades. Filigree made sure that wasn't well-known, and I now I understand why. I'm positive that the Academy informed Plush, though, because the corner of her mouth quirks with amusement at my blatant lie.
"Then you start with a spear. That way, if you end up having to improvise a staff in the arena, you'll have an edge there. Even a stick will do." She takes a sip of the warm beverage in her cup. I catch a whiff of pungent brewed bittergreen and wonder why Plush is drinking that stuff. "I've been keeping tabs on the betting odds. Even before the scoring, you two are already the favorites, with that brute from District 2 being a very, very close second. That will help you a lot with the sponsors. I've already been talking to some of them, and I think some deals are about to be reached." She looks away from us, and frowns into her cup. "A lot of it depends on the arena itself though. No way to plan for that."
She doesn't speak again right away, and I have a few moments to study her. She is in her thirties, but she looks much older. It's not her hair, which only has a few threads of gray, or her skin, or wrinkles. She looks taut and hollow, like she hasn't been eating well. I remember the sloppy drunk who is mentoring for District 12, and I am suddenly very glad that I have Plush.