Chapter Seven
I dream about her again that night. It's not the first time she's visited me in my sleep, but even so, it unnerves me slightly. I'm standing by the back door to the bakery, with a loaf of bread in my hand. She's sitting up in the old apple tree, her face skeletal once again. I run to her hoping to give her the bread, and stop her from starving. But before I get there she bursts in to flames, and with in seconds the fire has burned the flesh from her body, and she's nothing but a pile of bones.
I awake in a cold sweat, thinking it must still be the middle of the night, but when I open my eyes, I see fluffy white clouds, and a grey mist settling over the Capitol buildings. I'm relieved that I won't have to be haunted by those dreams until tonight, and I get out of bed. I pay more attention to the settings of the shower this time, and I end up nicely clean and not reeking of roses.
I get out of the shower and dry off, when I come back in to my room, I see that an outfit has been laid by the wardrobe for me. Black trousers, a long sleeved burgundy tunic, and leather boots.
Within half an hour Haymitch is knocking on my door, and we walk down to breakfast together. Katniss is already in there, so I go and fill up my plate, and sit down to join her. I notice that we're wearing the exact same thing. This doesn't really bother me, but I can see that Katniss looks slightly irritated at me. Seeing as I haven't spoken to her since last night, and the fact that she eyeing the burgundy tunic, makes me come to the conclusion that it's my clothes she's annoyed with. I guess that Cinna wants to present us as a team to the other tributes.
Once Haymitch has finished eating, he takes a long swig from his silver flask, and starts talking,
"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." He says.
"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks.
"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch. I exchange a look with Katniss.
"I don't have any secret skills," I say. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels."
"You can coach us together," she says, and I nod in agreement.
"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," says Haymitch. I might as well be honest with him.
"I can't do anything," I say. "Unless you count baking bread."
"Sorry, I don't. Katniss. I already know you're handy with a knife," says Haymitch.
"Not really. But I can hunt with a bow and arrow." She says.
"And you're good?" asks Haymitch. She goes quiet for a few seconds. "I'm all right," she says. No your not, your far better than "alright." Why isn't she telling Haymitch how good she is? I decide to intervene, he needs to know what she can do if he's going to help her.
"She's excellent," I say. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." She looks at me with narrowed eyes.
"What are you doing?" she asks suspiciously.
"What are you doing? If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself," I say simply. She starts to look even more annoyed. I don't really get why, I'm trying to help her.
"What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour," she snaps at me, "I snap at him. "Tell him that. That's not nothing."
"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't," I shoot back at her.
"He can wrestle, he came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." She says to Haymitch.
This exasperates me slightly. "What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?" I say it perhaps slightly more harsher than I meant it to sound.
"There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!" her voice is rising now.
This really annoys me and the words my mother said to me when she came to say goodbye come back to me. "But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows. You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!" My own voice is getting louder now.
"Oh, she meant you," she says with a wave of dismissal.
"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," I say looking straight in to her grey eyes. She doesn't know what to say to that. Her eyes flicker down to the roll in her hands.
"But only because someone helped me." She sounds like a child when she says that. My own eyes look at the roll she's holding, and I know she's talking about that day five years ago at the bakery. I shrug "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you." I say.
"No more than you," She says. I roll my eyes and look at Haymitch.
"She has no idea. The effect she can have." I look down at the table, running my nail along the grain in the wood. I've never come this close to letting her know I really felt before. It's Haymitch that breaks the silence.
"Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there's no guarantee they'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"
"I know a few basic snares," she mutters.
"That may be significant in terms of food," says Haymitch. "And Peeta, she's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player. In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?" says Haymitch. We both nod.
"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute," says Haymitch. Katniss starts to object, but Haymitch slams his hand on the table. "Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."
We go back to our rooms to wait until ten o'clock, I hear Katniss's door slam as I open my own. I'm starting to feel nervous about meeting the other tributes, especially after the looks they gave us after the opening ceremony. I meet Effie by the elevator, and a few minutes later Katniss shows up. We go right down in to what must be the basement of the training centre. We walk in to the massive gym, where the other tributes are gathered in a circle, we're the last ones to arrive.
After we step in to the room, the head trainer, a woman called Atala steps up and starts talking. Experts in each skill will remain at their stations. We will be free to travel from area to area as we choose, per our mentor's instructions. Some of the stations teach survival skills, others fighting techniques. We are forbidden to engage in any combative exercise with another tribute. There are assistants on hand if we want to practice with a partner.
I take the opportunity the look around at the other tributes. As a suspected the tributes from 1, 2 and 4 look a lot better cared for than the rest. They look strong. I notice the pair from District 11 the huge boy, built like an ox, towering above the rest of us. Then the little girl, Rue I think her name was. When Atala stops talking the careers head straight for the deadliest weapons. The boy from 2 looks lethal with a sword.
Katniss hasn't moved or noticed that I'm standing next to her, so I nudge her arm. "Where would you like to start?" I ask.
"Suppose we tie some knots," she says.
"Right you are," I say, and we head over to the knot tying station. The instructor seems to like Katniss when he realizes she knows about setting snares, and he shows us how to set a few simple traps. We stay at the station for an hour until we've mastered it. I'm glad when we move on to the camouflage station, at least this is something that I'm mildly good at. I swirl the mud, and berry juices on my arms, weaving disguises from vines and leaves. At least the instructor seems pleased with my work.
"I do the cakes," I say to Katniss.
"The cakes? "What cakes?" she asks, turning to face me. I see she'd been watch the boy from 2 throw a spear at a dummy from fifteen yards.
"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery," I explain. She looks at the paint on my arm before saying,
"It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death," she says, slightly sceptically. I decide to try and be funny.
"Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake —" I begin
"Say we move on," she interjects.
The next three days pass relatively quickly, the gamemakers sitting in their private balcony watching our every move. We do manage to pick up some valuable skills, like how to start a fire, making a shelter, and knife throwing. Each day we eat lunch in a dining room off the gym. The careers always sit together, me and Katniss eat together, but most of the other sit by themselves.
I try to maintain a steady flow of conversation but it's not always easy. On the second day I empty the bread basket on our table, and talk about how they've included the breads from all the different districts. I'm trying to give the other tributes the impression that we're allies and friends.
"And there you have it," I say, scooping the breads back in the basket.
"You certainly know a lot," she says.
"Only about bread," I reply he says. "Okay, now laugh as if I've said something funny."
We both start laughing, and get a lot of stares from the other tributes. It's starting to get a bit tiring, but we follow Haymitch's direction.
"All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk," I tell her.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by a bear?" she asks.
"No, but it sounds fascinating," I reply.
After lunch that day we were having a go at spear throwing, when I notice something. The little girl from 11 has been watching us for a few minutes.
"I think we have a shadow." I whisper to Katniss.
She throws her spear and turns around to look at the girl. I throw my own spear before saying,
"I think her name's Rue,"
"What can we do about it?" she asks quite harshly.
"Nothing to do," I say back. "Just making conversation."
She keeps joining us at several other stations. It turns out that she's quite resourceful, she can climb and is clever with plants. But what chance does she have against a 220 pound male with a sword?
Every night Effie and Haymitch grill us about what we did, and what we saw. I can tell that Haymitch is getting sick and tired of Effie's constant twittering. So one night on our way to bed, I mumble something to Katniss.
"Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink."
She makes a sound which sounds a bit like a laugh but then she says, "Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around."
"All right Katniss," I say tiredly. We only talk in front of people after that.
On the third day of training, they start to call us out of lunch for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. District by district, first the boy, then the girl tribute. As usual, District 12 is slated to go last. We linger in the dining room, unsure where else to go. No one comes back once they have left. As the room empties, the pressure to appear friendly lightens. By the time they call Rue, we are left alone. We sit in silence until my name is called.
"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights." She says.
"Thanks. I will, you . . . shoot straight." I reply.
As I walk in it's clear the gamemakers have no interest in me. Most of them are picking at the massive feast that's been left for them. Nevertheless I go over to the weight lifting station, and start throwing them around. After about five minutes I notice that many of the gamemakers have started singing some drinking song, clearly not even bothering to try and focus what little attention span they have on me. I'm going be lying on the ground dead in a mtter of days, and they can't even be bothered to look at me. It disgusts me.
After another ten minutes of hurling the weights around they tell me I can go. I go up in the elevator and go to my room, to await dinner, and the gamemakers scores.