"You know the plan?" Morgan asks Kyra at breakfast.
Kyra nods, and sends me a smile that clearly says 'I am superior. My mentor is more senior than yours, and as such, I know what is going on'. I glare back at her. I have no idea how I'm going to be able to stand the next few days.
Ignoring my suddenly murderous impulses – I wonder if this is how the Careers feel all the time, although I know I wouldn't be able to kill Kyra, no matter how much I want to – I tuck into my breakfast. Along with the food is a dark coloured drink which tastes delicious. Smooth and sweet. Ando tells me it's called hot chocolate.
"Does Lucas need to know this plan?" Ando asks. "Because we already have a strategy of our own."
Morgan shakes her head. "You do what you think is the logical course of action."
At the same time, Kyra smirks meanly. "I bet they don't have a plan." She tells the room at large snidely. "I mean, there isn't much you can do with a cripple like Lucas."
I really don't like the emphasis she puts on 'cripple'. It either means she knows what I'm up to, or it means that she's even worse than I thought she was. I'm hopping it's the second one – it will be easier to ignore her or even kill her in the arena if I don't like her, but when I think about what she said before the opening ceremony I have a feeling it's the first.
I sigh. "Look Kyra. I still don't know what you have against me, but can we talk later? I know a good place where we won't disturb anyone."
I hope she gets my message. Kyra doesn't seem like the smartest person in town. If she is, then why didn't she pick up that my little act is better for both of us? I hope she doesn't say something stupid in front of everyone else. Actually, I'd better see if I can talk to her now.
"Ando," I say, "When do we have to be at the Training Centre? How much time do we have? Where is it?"
Ando laughs. "Questions, questions. I'll answer them one at a time. Training starts in about an hour and a half. The Centre is underground. Traditionally, the escort accompanies you two to the Training Centre."
He glances wryly down the table. There is only the four of us from District Ten present; the three from the Capitol seem to have gone AWOL.
"Unfortunately," he continues, "Theodora seems to be… otherwise occupied. I'll show you what buttons to press and then you can go. Sorry I can't take you any further, but us mentors are forbidden from entering the Training Centre."
Morgan takes over, and for the next fifteen minutes or so we get an overview of what training will be like. She doesn't give us any specific advice. I wonder if the other tributes' mentors are taking a similar route or if their approach is totally different.
Oh well. Why bother wondering over something I'll never know the answers to?
Finally, Morgan releases us. We're free to do whatever we want for the next hour before the mentors (or Theodora, if she's back by then) will collect us to go to Training. I know what I want to do.
"Come on," I tell Kyra. "You want to yell at me? You feel like telling me what you have against me? Well come on. I know the perfect spot." In a quieter voice (but one that can still be picked up by the microphones) I say, "And maybe the view will mellow you out a bit."
She glares at me. Woops. She wasn't supposed to hear that.
Still complaining, Kyra follows me as I limp over to the lift. I wait until she gets in, then jab the button that says 'roof'.
"Are we even supposed to be up here?" Kyra asks nervously as we rise.
"Yes,' I say. "Ando showed me yesterday. I don't think there's any rule against it."
The doors open. Kyra steps out first. I limp after her.
Suddenly, Kyra spins around with an angry look on her face. "Oh, cut it out," she snaps.
I'm confused. "Cut what out?"
"Cut it out! Stop limping like that! We went to the same school for almost ten years. I know you can walk properly. You know you can walk properly-"
"Almost properly," I correct her.
"Fine," huffs Kyra. "Almost properly. Whatever. The thing is, we both know you can walk normally. So why on earth aren't you?"
She walks up to me and snatches the ever present crutch away.
"You don't really need this." She waves the crutch over the edge. "So why do you keep on using it? Walk properly, you freak!"
She drops the crutch. I contemplate telling her that it won't work, but decide against it. Kyra hasn't done anything to make me like her so far. In fact, she's done a lot to make me dislike her.
Sure enough, there is a flash of light and the crutch comes flying back at us. I try to catch it one handed, fumble the catch and end up dropping the crutch on the floor. Typical. But I don't let it bother me, instead Kyra with a smug I-knew-that-would-happen smile that I know will irritate her no small amount.
"You know Kyra," I say mildly. "There is a reason I'm acting like I am. It's for the good of both of us-"
"Yeah right," she snorts. "You really expect me to believe that? You're not helping us; you're hurting us. Do you really think anyone will want to sponsor a cripple? You're chasing all of our sponsors away!"
"What sponsors?" I ask her. "Do you really think anyone would want to sponsor us? Even without the exaggerated limp – I'm still a weedy boy with a disability. And it's not like you're any better. Face it – you're a weakling. I'm guessing no weapons skills whatsoever, and you aren't particularly strong or fast or agile. If it wasn't for me and my leg drawing in the sympathy votes, we'd be sponsorless."
Obviously my little speech has given Kyra something to think about, as there is silence for a full minute as she digests what I have just said.
"Fine," she concedes. "You might have a point. But I still don't like you – and if I see you in trouble in the Arena, don't expect you to come to your aid. Both of us can't survive, and I want to go home."
"I wouldn't expect you to," I say. I don't agree with what she's doing – Kyra's falling right into the Capitol's hands. It's not like I can do anything though, and I'd rather have a truce, no matter how shaky it is. "But can we just agree to not actively destroy each other's campaigns?"
Kyra nods. "It's a deal."
And we shake on it.
…insertbreakhere…
By the time Ando comes to fetch me for training, Theodora is still nowhere to be found. Instead, Ando and Morgan throw the two of us into the lift – Kyra looks very nervous, and I don't feel much better – and press a button. The doors slide shut and we quickly fall past the ten floors above ground and a few below.
We are nearly the last tributes there. Some other Districts are missing, of course – I can't see District Twelve or District Nine anywhere – but most of the others are already gathered around the room. Most of them are standing in a semicircle watching what's going on.
District Five's girl seems to have said something insulting to the boy from Two, as he has her pressed up against a wall. He seems about to hurt her but then his partner steps in.
I vaguely hear the words "No", "Cato", and "Arena". Cato must be his name, and the girl must be telling him to save it for the arena. Smart girl.
Cato mutters something. I can hear even less than before, but I make out the phrase "Kill List". For once I am glad about my disability – it doesn't seem like he'd be in a hurry to finish me off.
Soon the others arrive, and half an hour later we're sent off to start training. It's interesting to see what each of the tributes do. Predictably, the six Careers head straight for the weapons. They handle their chosen weapons with ease, in direct contrast to the few other tributes stupid enough to begin with weapons. Those tributes obviously hadn't been warned. They look tiny next to the Careers, and the intimidating manner of the Career Tributes doesn't seem to be helping matters much.
Then there are the smarter tributes. They head out to the non combative stations – climbing, knots, edible plants. There are a select few of us who remain standing in the centre of the room for a few seconds, trying to see what the others are doing. I am one of these.
Satisfied that I know what each tribute is doing, and mentally filling away the information – you never know when it might be useful – I head to the nearest no-fighting station. This one happens to be camouflage, and I'm the only tribute there. Apparently, disguising oneself isn't high on the 'things you must learn' list.
Half an hour later, I leave the station in disgust. Camouflage isn't my forte. I don't seem to have one artistic bone in my body. I head over to the water-locating station, where I seem to do much better. From there I head to another station, then another.
They stop us for lunch halfway through the day. We are led into an adjoining chamber. Tables piled with food line the room while empty tables are placed near the centre for us to eat at.
Most tributes eat alone, myself included. The only exceptions to this rule are the Career pack, who are trying to intimidate as many of us as possible, and Katniss and Peeta, the two tributes from Twelve. They arrived wearing matching clothes, which tells me that something is definitely going on up there in District Twelve. I just wish I knew what.
Of course, there are other Districts who stick together. The huge boy from Eleven – Thresh, I think he's called – sits at a table next to his District Partner's one and stands up for her when the Careers try to take food off her. The two from Six share a table, although they sit at opposite ends and refuse to speak.
The most curious case is District Seven's boy. He grabs some food, but doesn't sit down until the rest of us are all seated. Then he looks around to see who's alone. He chooses the girl from Nine, sits down beside her and starts chatting amiably.
The rest of us stare. District Seven looks up, waves and continues his conversation unperturbed. Before any of us can think about what's going on, Katniss and Peeta (both of whom have remained oblivious to the drama unfolding in the room) choose that precise moment to burst into laughter. Everyone – District Seven, Nine and the Careers included – moves their stares to District Twelve. At least the two of them have the grace to look embarrassed. Though they really shouldn't. Rebellion, and all that.
I'd admire them, if it wasn't so obvious that they weren't doing this by choice. Oh, it's not that obvious. They're pretty good actors. But like recognises like, and the two of them have had enough tiny slip ups that I can tell they're up to something.
Lunch is soon over, and we return to the Training Hall. I head over to the shelter building station. Then to another station, and another.
The next few days pass in a blur. They go by exactly as the first one did, with very few changes.
Sometimes during the second day, I attempt the climbing wall on a whim. I've heard that I can use my bad leg like a tail to help get more height. Unfortunately, this proves to be an urban legend. The second I put all of my weight on the leg I feel a stab of pain. Since the Lucas everyone thinks I am is crippled even more than I really am, I sink onto the floor clutching my leg. I stay there for a few minutes to keep the act up, then slowly rise to my feet and limp away.
After lunch the same day (District Seven sat with the boy from Three this time), I decide that it's safe to try weapons. I head for the long distance weapons, because frankly I'm at a huge disadvantage short distance. The first station is archery, which seems to be strangely abandoned. I have a go. Once I'm shown how to hold the bow, I'm not too bad. Not too bad meaning I can actually hit the target most of the time, after a bit of practice.
I have a go with the throwing weapons, too. Knives, spears, slingshots. I'm not too bad with a slingshot, although they're harder to aim with than a bow, and I managed to hit myself on the head while spinning it once or twice. The knives and the spears don't go as well. To throw them properly – especially the spears – I need to take a step forward. At top speed.
Now, I could probably handle this normally. But with my cripple persona still firmly in place, I know that there's no way I'm going to be able to do it without anyone getting suspicious. Of course, even if I could walk as well as I usually do, that's no guarantee I'd be good at this. Hitting a target with a knife or a spear or even a slingshot is far harder than with a bow. With a bow, you just point and shoot. With the others, it's a much more complicated routine before you manage to hit anything.
Despite the differences in stations, some aspects of the routine stay the same. Every night after training, Morgan takes Kyra away for some one on one mentoring. Ando and I had nothing else to do that first night, so we figured we'd do the same. We talk mentor to tribute for a while, but there's not much you can say about training. I have no idea how Morgan and Kyra manage it. So then I ask Ando about my father. He worked with him, so he has plenty of stories to tell me.
Finally, the third day arrives. It begins just like the other two, with the same routines. I focus on survival skills more than fighting techniques on this day – it's more likely I'll need them than that I'll need weaponry skills. I don't even know if I'll be able to find a weapon.
Mindful of Ren's last words, I find a staff fighting station and learn some basic routines. As usual, my arrival causes much dismay among the instructors. Luckily this instructor is adaptive and soon gets used to my crippled leg – he even gives me some pointers on how to keep my weight off it while fighting, which will probably come in handy.
All too soon, lunchtime arrives. I eat without tasting the food, trying not to think about my time with the Gamemakers. I have no idea what score I want to get: I know I probably can't get any higher than a seven, and going below a three is really bad for me. Even being the lowest, no matter what the score, is probably bad. Sponsors might give me sympathy, but I figure they'd only want to back someone with a chance, however small, of winning.
Before I even realise what's happening, Kyra is being called away. I'm next.
The wait seems to take an eternity. Finally, my name is called and I step into the room.
…insertbreakhere…
"So how did your session with the Gamemakers go?" Ando asks. It's about an hour after I stepped out of the room.
"Not too badly," I reply. "Not all of them were paying attention" – understatement of the century – "but enough of them were, I think."
"I should have warned you – by the time it's District Ten's turn, they don't really pay much attention."
I shrug. It can't be helped, and at least I know I'm not the only one who went through this. Kyra probably had as much attention as I did, and Districts Eleven and Twelve are undoubtedly worse off than I am.
"Anyway, please continue," says Ando.
So I do. I tell him how I managed reasonably well with the non-combative stations – well, not camouflage and climbing but most of the others. I tried a bit of archery, too, but that didn't go too well.
I shower and then it's time for dinner. Over dinner I rehash what I just told Ando. Kyra does the same, and it seems that her session went a little better than I did. Kyra seemed to have a surprising knack with a flail – while she's untrained and inexperienced, she picked the technique up quickly and will be a force to be reckoned with in the Arena. Unfortunately for her training score, she seemed to focus only on that and forgot to put the proper amount of attention to survival techniques. I have a feeling she's going to need to stay for the bloodbath at the cornucopia, which is never a good idea.
Soon the meal is finished and the seven of us head into the neighbouring room to watch the training results. The Careers are no surprise – their highest score is a ten, gained by both from Two. The lowest is eight, which is pulled off by the boy from Four.
Ironically enough, three people get a three. Even more ironically, two of them are from District Three. The other is the boy from Five. His partner, the sly red-haired girl who I've figured out is called Lysandra, gets double that with a six. The black-haired boy from Seven also gets a six as does the girl from Eight. District Seven's partner gets a five, as do both from Six and the boy from Nine. The boy from Eight and the Girl from District Nine get a four.
Then it's District Ten's turn. Kyra manages to get a five, much to her annoyance. She thinks out loud that with her unexpected weapons skill she'd manage higher, and just glares at me when I point out that generally the Gamemakers are looking for an assortment of skills.
The tables are turned when my score flashes up. It's a four. Not too bad, considering that I've still got the cripple act going. But Kyra still sees it as a reason to gloat, and gloat she does.
"What happened to your variety, cripple boy?" she asks me acidly. "There's no point knowing a little of anything if you're no good at any of it."
I just grit my teeth and refuse to rise to her bait, thinking that at least tiny Rue won't get much higher than me.
Why is fate always determined to prove me wrong? The thought's barely entered my brain when Rue's score appears on screen. It's a seven. I have no idea how she managed it, but apart from the Careers it's the highest score yet. Great. The midget wins yet again.
Thresh, the boy from Eleven, has his score next. He gets a ten, and I have to smile when I imagine how Cato and his partner (Clove, I just remember) will be gritting their teeth at someone who hasn't had any training getting equal with them.
District Twelve is next. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, considering how well they've done so far, both their tributes do extremely well. Peeta gets an eight, again equal with the Careers. But Katniss, the 'girl who was on fire' as the commentators seem to be calling her, is the star of the show. She manages to get an eleven. Eleven! That's just one down from the highest possible score. And no one, not even District Two, the strongest looking of the Careers, is able to trump her.
If only I knew what she did to get that, I think. Knowledge is power. Forewarned is forearmed. I hate not knowing things, and in the Hunger Games, what I don't know is what could kill me.