In the middle of the night, I hear a low and ominous murmuring.
At first, I attribute it to an unsettling dream, but it continues when I open my eyes. Rising as quietly as possible, I walk to the window in my room in order to see if anyone is outside it. Seeing nothing but the merciless glare of the floodlights around the Training Academy, I shake my head and decide to go back to sleep. Then I notice that next to the heat vent, there's an extra panel - supposedly for its controls, which it has, but it also contains several tiny holes - as for an intercom? Startled, I press my ear to them and listen:
"Come on, guys, let's get this show on the road." I recognize Sheen's voice, as muffled as it is.
"Just let me grab a snack." That's Sparkle.
"Are you really that hungry? It's 2:00 AM, for frick's sake!" Who's that? He sounds vaguely familiar.
"Shut up, Ingot," Sparkle snaps, making his name sound like "idiot".
"Okay, enough bull. Are we all here, except for her?" My spine stiffens as I realize who's speaking, and about whom he's speaking. It's Damocles, who fights with a massive double-edged sword. "Good. Who has the first threshing brawl tomorrow? There's one per day, so how much campaigning have you done?"
"It's me," says Sheen. "Trainer Flavius has already told me so, and I donated two kilos to fight Cornelia."
"What?!" Cornelia shouts. "You bribed him with two thousand coins in order for an opportunity to kill me?"
"Relax, babe. That's chump change, and there's more where it came from. Remember, too, that there are only six of us first-tier Careers. That means that in the 'TB's', either you and I will 'bite it'. 'C'est la vie'."
"Huh?"
"That's life." Sheen gives a lame-sounding laugh, as if he's trying to swallow tiny gulps of air in between his chuckles. "Besides, how am I supposed to earn my way into the ring with Enobaria otherwise? Money alone can't buy me that. If I want to make an omelet, I'll have to break a few eggs. I'll go easy on you."
"No you won't, you…" Cornelia cusses him out, and when she's done, she sighs. "What about HER? How much money have you all donated so far in order to face Enobaria? You 'mothers' won't stand a chance."
I take careful mental note of the amounts each tribute claims to have spent on their assassination cause: Cornelia, one kilo; Sheen, two kilos; Damocles, one and a half kilos; Sparkle, one kilo; Ingot, two kilos. I realize that all of them could be lying through their teeth in order to outdo one another, but I don't think so. They're all fighting against a common enemy. Enobaria must be killed, by fair play or foul, if any of them are to be picked to volunteer for the Hunger Games. Another factor comes to mind: The more money they spend trying to be the one to take Enobaria down, the less they have to spend on setting up each other. Many Careers are rich, but just as many aren't. Oftentimes Career tributes, if they become victors, are their families' ticket out of the quarries. One of my peers, a second-tier fighter named Reti, is one of them.
"Shhh!" Damocles speaks again. "All break. Meeting's over. Someone's coming." As for me, I hear the sound of scattering footsteps, and then silence. Where had the five of them been? Judging from Sparkle's comment about grabbing a snack, they must have been in the gleaming stainless-steel kitchen. However, why would they meet there, or anywhere? If there's one overarching rule at the Academy, it's that surveillance is everywhere, as in the rest of Panem. They were taking a high risk by scheming together. If he wanted to, Trainer Flavius could broadcast the entire conversation to Enobaria, but had he heard? One of his famous "entrapment strategies" is to turn certain surveillance cameras off and on at random intervals. None of us were entirely sure when we were being watched, except when we were training. What if Flavius had turned off the surveillance camera in the kitchen, and thus the meeting had occurred?
With my legs trembling almost as hard as they did after my sparring match, I stumble back to bed.