This chapter is dedicated to R Harper - possibly my most loyal reviewer ever! You are awesome :D
This chapter starts the real drama! Hope you like
Liz xxx
Chapter 7 - The Grading Of Tributes
For the next few days we trained and trained. Keeping to Tina's wish, we checked out every non combat station the arena had to offer – from plants to shelter building to bird calls and track following. Of course the combat stations were still always filled – the careers using every opportunity to smash up some dummies and show off their superior strength. I noticed with interest that Blaine didn't show his anger so much. He seemed to view his strength to be his leadership – directing the other tributes like they were his pawns. He handled a blade a few times, but other than that just seemed to watch the others. It was more than frustrating. I consoled myself and tried to figure out my own combat strengths by stealing knives at dinner times and firing them at the walls – pretending they were his head.
On the fourth and final day we were told not to enter the main arena until after lunch. We would be able to talk to our mentors and practice until then, but afterwards we would show our skills to the Gamemakers and be given our score. The score was crucial to the Games as not only did it suss out the weak from the strong, it also showed who was most likely to get sponsors. The average score was around an 8, so I was aiming for at least that.
Haymitch woke Tina and I up nice and early to get us prepped for the day. We ate breakfast in the normal fashion and Tina seemed even a little brighter than usual.
"So, feeling ready?" He asked as we ate. To my surprise Tina looked at me and then nodded. I nodded too, even managing a smile and Haymitch smiled back.
"Hey, can you pass me the orange juice?" He asked, reaching a hand over towards the glass jug that was on my right hand side.
"What? No early morning booze?" I asked jokingly. Since our arrival I had seen our mentor drink less and less. This meant he was hopeful.
"Nope, gotta be on my best behaviour if I wanna discuss anything rational with you two today." I handed him the jug, smiling again and he poured himself a glass, before downing it in one and giving a satisfied sigh after. As we laughed and joked about the day ahead, it almost felt like we were a family. A small, very dysfunctional family.
"So, what is your combat strength?" Haymitch asked me, rubbing his hands together. We were sitting in a small room that I hadn't even known existed, next to the bedrooms on our floor. The walls were a solid brown wood and one big glass window looked over the Capitol. My face fell.
"Um, well…I don't know."
"You don't know?" My mentor asked incredulously.
"No, not really. Tina asked if we could stay away from the combat stations."
"She did WHAT?" Obviously the request of my friend had not been notified to Haymitch. His face seemed to turn red with rage.
"I'm sorry, I thought if-"
"-You can't just not do any combat!"
"But you said-"
"I said not to show them your secret weapon – not to not fight at all! They're going to think you're useless!"
'I probably am.' I thought to myself. So far my knife throwing exploits had resulted only in several broken lamps and a very frustrated Sam over not being able to hit his nemesis in the face.
"I'm sorry." I mumbled again, not really knowing what to say in this situation.
"You should be!" For a couple of seconds we sat there in silence – Haymitch trying to catch his breath back and me trying to calm myself down. What if I had screwed this up? What if me not knowing any fighting brought my score down? I could have ruined my chances – I could have killed myself.
"So, what exactly were you planning on doing for the grading then?" The next words from my mentor were surprisingly calm – he seemed to have regained his composure and I could tell he was working very hard not to hit me in the face.
"Well I have a good knowledge of all the plants and flowers." A damn good knowledge. I had pretty much memorised the book. "So I thought I would start with that."
"Yes, dazzle them with your knowledge of shrubbery – that'll really get the money flowing in." I knew Haymitch was just frustrated, but it was hard to take his comments as anything more than degrading. It wasn't my fault that Tina was adverse to fighting – I'd just been trying to give both of us the best chance we possibly could.
"How are you going to shock them? How are you going to make them listen?" I shook my head, resigning in defeat.
"I…I don't know." There was another stretch of silence and I presumed it was Haymitch preparing to send me out in disgust. Then he spoke again.
"Have you ever been angry Sam?" I looked up, confused.
"What?"
"Has anything ever made you angry? Not the kind where you kick a few things over or shout at the mirror – the kind where you literally want to rip someone's throat out?" My immediate response was to say no. I'd never wanted to kill anyone in my entire life. It wasn't in my nature. But then I thought again.
"I guess I have once." Haymitch's face lit up, but he proceeded cautiously.
"When?"
"I guess when…" My fingers began to trace the patterns on the wooden table. My mouth turned dry and my hands began to feel clammy. "…when my father died, I guess I was angry at the world. Angry at the miners, angry at the Capitol, angry at God…"
"You believe in God?"
"Not really. But I was still angry at him. For taking my dad away." Suddenly emotions that had long been locked away were abruptly brought up. When father had died I'd been forced to take on the role of 'male leader'. I'd been forced to shut out my grief – but of course had shown it in other ways. In secret, on the top of a hill or in a disused mill. I'd shout and I'd scream and I'd want to tear holes in everything that existed. I'd battered myself almost to the point of death. But then I'd resurfaced.
I didn't tell Haymitch any of this but through my silence he could tell. He could tell how much I'd been through.
"Start with the plants." He said plainly, touching me lightly on the shoulder as he spoke. "But then. Then show them what's in here." He moved his hand to point towards my heart. "That anger. It will be your weapon."
When I left the room I felt slightly more positive than when I'd entered. Tina gave me a questioning look as I passed her and I smiled, making her smile back. As she entered I wondered what on earth Haymitch would say to her if his reaction to my skills had been that damning.
The result was bad. Tina flew out of the room just five minutes after she had entered. I went to ask her what was wrong and then heard the sound of crashing behind the wooden walls.
As I descended into the arena all thoughts of my tribute partner were left behind. This was all about me now. Running Haymitch's instructions over in my head I flicked through the book of plants and flowers yet again, checking I knew every single one of them and also thought about my secret skill of anger. I wasn't sure how I would release it, or how effective it would be, but I knew I had to make it count. Faintly through the walls I could hear the sounds of movement, of laughing and jeering and the clinking of glasses. The Gamemakers watched every tribute and judged them on their particular skills. Of course, if all 24 tributes had 5 minutes that meant a lot of watching, and many of them got bored. Right now the boy from District 11 was showing – then it would be Tina and finally me. I hadn't seen my partner but from what I gathered she probably wasn't in the best frame of mind to show off her attacking. Part of me was frustrated at Haymitch for riling her up, for making her upset and probably thwarting her chances. But the other part of me knew he was simply trying to do his job.
The door to the waiting room banged open and the District 11 boy stepped inside. He seemed a little worn out and scared, but he walked steady and shot past me without saying anything. He couldn't be more than 14 – it was awful to let such young children compete in such a barbaric sport. Knowing Tina was now in the ring I closed my eyes and began to plan my show again, running and running through it until I was sure it was perfect.
When the buzzer sounded I jumped to my feet. Tina had been less than 5 minutes and that worried me, but I moved towards the door and waited for it to open. Suddenly I found my mouth short of saliva – I realised what an important moment this was and began to feel my legs shaking. Then the doors opened and I stepped out into the arena.
When I'd said the Gamemakers were rowdy I hadn't been wrong. The noise was even louder than I'd thought – laughing and singing, food and drink being sloshed around everywhere. When I looked at all the decadence and thought of my nearly starving family at home, it made me sick, but I carried on walking until I reached the centre point and turned to face them.
"Sam Evans, District 12." I said, following the format I had been given.
"We know who you are!" One of the Gamemakers bellowed. I chose to ignore the comment and moved quickly towards the computer. Playing the game I had seen Tina do before, a selection of plants and flowers flashed up onto the screen in boxes. I immediately eliminated all the deadly poisonous ones, and then set about finding the ones that could injure or severely damage parts of the body starting from the most severe. I moved surprisingly quickly, and had almost finished when another Gamemaker shouted out a catcall.
"Sorting out plants? I'm not paying my money for this!" The other Gamemakers laughed and began to join in. I tried to focus on the last few plants I needed to identify and sort but their jeering became so loud and obnoxious it filled my ears and made it impossible to concentrate.
"Call yourself a tribute?"
"You won't last five minutes in our arena!" Gradually I began to feel my hands shaking and my heart pounding. At first I thought it was fear and pressure, but then I realised I was getting angry. The arrogance of the Gamemakers made my skin hot, my fists clench and my blood boil. Seeing an opportunity I punched in the final plants on the screen, not caring if they were wrong. As the computer began to relay my score I left it behind and stalked over to the combat zone. I'd only glanced at it once or twice but located the knives and then put them in my hands.
"Oh, look, now he's trying to fight!"
"Can't throw a plant at a bad guy buddy!" Glaring over at the balcony, I found my vision blurring. All those times I had yelled and screamed, all those times I had wished there was a way to bring my father back – to end the pain and misery his death had caused. This was the time to channel it.
"You wanna see a kill?" I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse and raw from anger. "This is a kill." Flinging the first knife from my hand I watched it flip through the air, amazingly landing straight in the centre of the head target on the dummy. Suddenly the Gamemakers fell silent.
"Eh?" I shouted, feeling my anger build up even further, taking me over completely. "Are you happy now?" As the next knife flew and lodged itself in the dummies stomach, I grabbed for some more and threw them in quick succession, bam, bam, bam. I couldn't even see where they were hitting now but grabbed one more, knowing I had to finish my kill off. Running towards the dummy I tackled it to the floor, batting the other knives away and then proceeding to stab my victim in the chest. Over and over I stabbed – my vision getting more and more red, my breathing escalating until I felt like I was going to pass out, but kept on going. Eventually I felt the jolt of my knife hitting the floor – when I opened my eyes I realised I had stabbed so hard and so much I had made a complete hole through the dummy, the knife touching the floor beneath. Falling back onto my haunches, my vision began to clear and I looked in horror at the scene before me. The dummy was destroyed. Bits of foam lay everywhere, almost providing a carpet. The mauled carcass of the dummy laid before me and the knives strewn around it were bent with the force I had thrown them. Suddenly realising what I had done I brought my hand to my mouth and found my lips completely dry, my throat struggling to breathe. Looking up at the balcony I expected to see the Gamemakers looking appalled, horrified – immediately carting me off to the nearest hospital for the mentally depraved. Instead they looked amazed.
"Well…Mr Evans…" One of them said. Before he'd been one of the main hecklers, now he had simply nothing to say. "That it all we need to see." Nodding my head I immediately tried to bring myself to my feet. My heel slipped on a piece of foam and I skittered across the floor, imagining it to be some piece of gut or intestine. The person that I had inexplicably, savagely, murdered. Hands desperately grasping for some free floor I managed to haul my body upwards, staggering towards the door before I even had the chance to right myself. As I reached the door I took one last look at the body – what I was capable of when I let myself go, and left.
When I reached the 12th floor I expected to be immediately quizzed about my performance. I expected to be asked what I did, how the Gamemakers had reacted. My body was bracing itself for the onslaught, the truth that I would have to admit to myself, when the doors opened and I saw an empty room.
There was no one there. Where was Haymitch? Where was Effie? Where was Tina? Immediately I began to feel worried. Pushing my inner turmoil aside I strode into the room. There was nobody sitting by the TV, although it seemed to be playing a live update of the tributes scores. I didn't even bother to process them, or see if mine had been uploaded yet, when I suddenly heard a shout from a girl. Tina.
Immediately I ran towards the source of the noise. The door to the meeting room was shut and as I got nearer I realised the sound was being blocked out. Something awful was happening inside. Gripping the handle with my fingers, I tried to open it but realised it had been jammed. Hearing the shouts from inside, this time male, I rammed my body against the door, desperately trying to open it – feeling tears of fear and frustration pool in my eyes and I begged and begged until finally it flew open.
When I rushed inside I saw Haymitch standing by the doorway, drink in hand. Across the floor lay thousands of little shards of glass – Tina cowered desperately in the opposite corner.
"Tina!" I cried out. At first Haymitch didn't even know I was there and simply thought my fellow tribute was speaking.
"A THREE? HOW CAN I EVEN WORK WITH A THREE? YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY!" Eyes locked on the terrified face of my friend I sprinted towards her, pushing past Haymitch who finally noticed my presence.
"Sam!" He bellowed. "What are you doing?"
"STAY AWAY FROM HER!" I suddenly shouted, reaching Tina and throwing my body across hers. As I made contact she whimpered and I realised bits of glass were stuck into her thigh.
"STAY AWAY FROM HER?" Haymitch yelled back. "THIS GIRL HAS WRITTEN HER DEATH SENTENCE! NOBODY WILL SPONSOR HER NOW!" Tina's whole body was shaking against mine – I felt her hand grip against my arm and wondered if this was what I had looked like to the Gamemakers – if my friend would have been so eager for my protection ten minutes before.
"YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE! PUT DOWN THE DRINK!" Haymitch let out a booming laugh – a laugh that was now scarier than anything I had ever heard.
"PUT DOWN THE DRINK? YOU WANT ME TO PUT DOWN THE DRINK?" Raising his hand up in the air he smashed the half full whiskey bottle against the table – Tina and I were showered with glass and the whiskey burned my eyes. Desperately trying to figure out an escape plan my eyes glanced towards the window we were crouched by. The glass looked much too strong to break through and if we did we plummeted to certain death – but what choice did we have against a raging Haymitch? If we made one wrong move he could kill us. Before the Games had even started.
"Haymitch, PLEASE!" I begged, now trying a different tactic. I was beginning to wonder whether we should make a run for it when suddenly Effie appeared at the door.
"Sam!" She cried out, seeing me sprawled across the floor. "Tina! HAYMITCH?" Immediately I sprung into action.
"Effie! Take Tina! Find the nearest doctor and send for help!" Beginning to get to my feet Tina screamed, clutching onto my clothes so I almost fell over again. Ignoring her terror I pulled her up myself, watching Haymitch spiral and spiral with every second.
"GO!" I screamed to my friend, thrusting her forward. As she staggered over to Effie I went with her, moving towards Haymitch until I blocked the distance between him and the door.
"Come Sam!" Effie pleaded, pushing Tina out into the main room but leaving the door open. "Quickly!"
"No! I replied, pushing her out with one hand and feeling the hot stale breath of Hamish on my other. "You go! Find help!" As I slammed the door shut behind me I heard the screams of two women. Then I turned back round and saw my mentor bearing down on me.
"YOU LET HER GET AWAY!" He screamed. "YOU LET THE COWARD GET AWAY!" He lunged with his hands towards my neck but I knew what was coming. Ducking out of the way I watched him slam into the wall, then cry out in pain. When he turned round again I was ready, gripping hold of his shoulders and slamming him against the wall.
"You can't treat her like this!" I shouted, my face inches from my mentor's. "You can't take away the last shread of hope she has! She'll kill herself!"
"She's going to kill herself anyway!" Haymitch hollered back. "I can see it! And if you carry on defending her, you'll kill yourself too!" Suddenly the anger in Haymitch's eyes dissipated. For a second I wondered if he'd simply burnt out, before seeing his eyes roll back and realising that he was about to pass out. Stepping forward I caught him before he fell, seeing a large slice of glass sticking out of the side of his head as he slumped towards me and them guiding him slowly to the floor.