Inferno
Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins and I don't own the Hunger Games.
Chapter 7
"Catnip?" Gale says, towering over me. He pokes my cheek with his finger and I sit up with a start, rubbing my eyes so that everything around me doesn't appear so blurry. When my vision is finally clear and there are no spots dancing before my eyes, I look at my surroundings in bewilderment. Vases, silk curtains, and a bouquet of mutated, unnaturally colored flowers on the table by my bed. I blink a few times, remembering where I am. I'm in the Training Center, essentially waiting for my death.
Gale takes a few steps back from my bed when he sees I'm awake, and it seems like he's trying to avoid looking at me. "Effie left out clothes for you. Designed by Cinna. Haymitch is actually sober enough to have breakfast with us," he says, gesturing towards a dark green shirt and black leggings on a velvet chair.
I do a double take, looking from the clothes on the chair to Gale. Gale is already wearing a dark green shirt similar to mine with black pants. Gale rolls his eyes at the ceiling as if to say I know, right?, but I don't complain about our matching clothes and neither does Gale. After our spectacular showcasing last night, we have no right to criticize Cinna's fashion choices. Besides, I'm still determined to keep up our deal with Haymitch, and that includes doing whatever the stylists think is right. Although, I think, Haymitch isn't doing too good of a job keeping up his end of the bargain.
"Don't be late," Gale says, imitating Effie's silly accent and earning a smile from me. As soon as he exits the room, though, the smile turns into a frown as I realize there isn't much life in his words.
My stomach growling, I walk towards the room where we ate dinner last night. Only Haymitch and Gale are seated at the large table, with Haymitch picking at his food and quaffing some red, alcohol tainted drink, and Gale gorging on a plate loaded with food. I guess Effie and our stylists won't be joining us for breakfast today, probably because there's not really any advice they could offer us on a day like this. It's the first of three days of training and I doubt our stylists and Effie know about anything that would be useful in the arena. Haymitch, Gale, and I get to have a direct conversation, that will hopefully not involve any knife throwing.
I silently walk over to a long table towards the side filled with all different types of dishes. I load my plate with eggs, rolls, fruit and meat. I sit in the empty seat dividing Gale and Haymitch, which is apparently reserved for me. We all eat (or drink, in Haymitch's case) in an unsettling silence. Gale pushes his plate away from himself after a few minutes, and when I'm done stuffing my face, I do the same. Haymitch sets his half-full glass of alcohol-diluted juice. I notice that there seems to be no other alcohol on the table expect for the single glass Haymitch has just put down, and I'm impressed that he has managed not to get drunk.
"So, kids," Haymitch starts, clearing his throat, "I'm going to ask if you'd like to be trained together, but I'm guessing that's already a yes?" Haymitch looks between me and Gale. I've become somewhat accustomed to Haymitch's teasing, and I barely flush when I speak.
"Yeah," I say for both of us, since Gale doesn't make any move to talk.
"Well, sweetheart, tell me what you can do," Haymitch says, propping his feet up on the table. I glance over at Gale, who looks down at his plate, picking at the remaining food. Peas. Gale never liked peas, and even though we couldn't afford to be picky with what we ate, Gale refused to eat peas and always gave them to me when he encountered them in Greasy Sae's stews. There's something off about Gale's attitude. He looks angrier than usual, and there's something wrong with the way he's acting. Refusing to look at me, let alone meet my eyes. I don't like it, because it's not something I recognize, and I probably know Gale better than he knows himself.
When I don't answer immediately, Haymitch says, "There's no need to be shy, sweetheart. I already know you two are handy with a knife. What else?"
I think back to all of the days Gale and I spent in the woods. Hunting. Shooting and trapping food for our families to live off of.
"I can handle a bow and arrow," I say. Haymitch and I both simultaneously look to Gale for any feedback. Gale finally looks up at Haymitch, still not making eye contact at me.
"Katniss has killer aim," he says.
Annoyed that Gale still hasn't said anything for himself, I speak for him. "Gale's a genius with traps and snares."
"Katniss can shoot any animal clean through the eye," Gale retorts, still not looking at me.
"He's about as good as me at shooting," I say.
"She can climb trees quickly," Gale shoots back, stubbornly staring straight ahead. I want to slap him.
"He can lift weights almost double his size," I rebut with narrowed eyes.
"She's a fast runner."
"He's good in hand-to-hand combat."
"She can recognize any plant or herb there is."
"H-he-"
"Shut the hell up!" Haymitch yells, banging his now empty glass of 'juice' on the table for emphasis. "I get it. You're both fairly good with a bow and snares, and the boy can lift weights while sweetheart over here can climb trees and identify plants. Does that sum up your fairly pointless yelling?" Haymitch is the last person who should talk about what's pointless and what's not, but I nod in agreement.
"My name is Gale," Gale says coldly, his voice a dangerous tone between provoked and flat out infuriated. Haymitch must know that another stupid comment will lead to an argument, because he nods briefly.
"Okay. Now let's move on, shall we?" Gale still looks extremely ticked off and bunches the tablecloth in his fist, clenching and unclenching his hands.
"Neither of you are to show any significant skill with archery and traps during training, okay? Surprise the Gamemakers by showing them what you've got at the last minute, during your one on one sessions," Haymitch tells us. It makes enough sense to me. If we pretend to have only mediocre skills, we might shock the Gamemakers into giving us a higher training score, which in turn would attract more sponsors.
"Instead, learn a few new skills. Camouflage. Throwing spears. Tying knots. Got it?" Gale and I both nod tersely.
Haymitch taps an irregular rhythm on the table as he adds, "I want you two by each other's side every minute during training. Every minute. Although, I think that shouldn't be much of an issue, considering you two seem to favor each other's company already." Haymitch pauses. "Effie said she found you on the roof last night. Together. How sweet," Haymitch smirks.
As I blink and open my eyes again, a jolt runs through my body. Gale has somehow pinned Haymitch's arms behind his chair in a matter of seconds. Haymitch's gray Seam eyes, so similar to my own, look startled for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure.
"Let go, boy. No need to be so sensitive," Haymitch says, in his signature tone of voice that always has a hint of sarcasm. I know how Gale's going to react as soon as the words leave Haymitch's mouth.
"It's Gale," Gale hisses, tightening his grip on Haymitch's arms, "Gale."
"Okay, Gale. Let go of me," Haymitch says, seeming rather bored.
"Take back what you said," Gale replies.
"Is that all it'll take to make you happy? If I take back my completely true statement about you and your girlfriend?" Haymitch asks, a smirk evident in his voice. I want to punch him myself, but instead I stay glued to my seat, shifting my gaze between Haymitch and Gale. This time, I don't even blush at Haymitch's stupid teasing. Gale's face flushes with anger and he throws down Haymitch's arms with so much force that his chair lurches forward. Haymitch grimaces. The back of the chair had dug into his armpits. Good, I think, The old drunk deserved it.
Gale stalks off, barely making any noise in that eerie way of his as he walks away. After a few moments, I hear Gale slam his door loudly, making sure Haymitch hears it.
I stand up and make to go towards the exit when Haymitch says, "Well, sweetheart. Your boyfriend seems to have temper problems." I turn around on my heels and walk quickly towards Haymitch, promptly slapping him across his right cheek with all of the force I have. Haymitch goes rigid with pure shock for a second, and then relaxes into his chair. I don't know where I got the idea, let alone the courage, to do what I just did. Haymitch doesn't look too angry, though.
"Guess I deserved that," he mumbles.
There's a million things I want to say in response to that, but instead I settle on, "You did."
Then I exit the dining car, with Haymitch's voice ringing after me. "Meet Effie at the elevator around ten for training!"
It's a good thing he doesn't make any more comments about me and Gale, because I swear I would've killed him on the spot if he did.
I gingerly open the door to Gale's room, cautiously stepping in. Gale's sitting in a fancy chair in front of a window overlooking the Capitol. I can see his reflection in the glass from where I'm standing. His expression is blank, and he's not looking at anything in particular.
"Gale?" I say softly. Gale's head snaps around.
"Catnip," he greets, turning back to the window.
"What's wrong?" I ask, inching closer and closer until I'm standing by his side, one hand on the chair's armrest.
"Nothing, Catnip," he replies dully, averting his gaze.
"What's wrong, Gale?" I ask again insistently.
"I said there's nothing wrong, Katniss, okay?" he replies, his voice hardening.
Without thinking, I press one hand on either side of his face and turn his head so that he's facing me. Now that he finally meets my gaze, I know what he's been trying to hide. There's rage buried in his emotion-clouded gray eyes, along with...remorse. I've never seen remorse written so plainly across Gale's expression like this. Sure, I've seen him guilty several times. Sometimes when he accidentally yells at his siblings, when he launches a bad shot at an animal, thus making the animal's death more painful, after an argument with his mother, or that one time he took a dig at Madge. But never like this.
"Gale, I told you it'll be alright. D-don't hate yourself," I tell him, dropping my hands from his face. I flush as I realize exactly what I was just doing.
"How can't I not hate myself, Catnip?" Gale asks angrily, but this time the anger isn't directed at the Capitol. It's directed at himself. And it hurts me.
"We can't do anything about it now. Just hope that the baker's keeping his word and that our families aren't too...affected by what they see." My mind then wanders to the opening ceremonies last night. Did our appearance make them breath a sigh of relief? Did our costumes give them hope that just maybe one of us will get enough sponsors to live? Or did our appearance just signal another step to them, another day closer to our death? I can't even promise myself that I'll be able to make it back for Prim. It's hard to think like that when your best friend's going into the arena with you.
"We wouldn't be in this whole freaking situation if I had just stayed home," Gale mumbles, putting his face in his hands.
"Our families would want us to be strong, right? If we seem angry or upset on TV, that'll only bother them more. Gale, please," I say as Gale only shakes his head slowly. There's a few moments of silence as Gale seems to think about something.
"You know the weirdest thing, Catnip?" he asks, lifting his head up. I wait for him to go on. "I think that even if I could go back in time to the reaping and change what happened, I would still volunteer. I mean, I would try to reassure my family more and make up some story for Posy to believe in while I'm gone, but I'd still volunteer. At least this way I can make sure that you get back home safe and sound."
"No," I say immediately, "Don't go there, Gale."
It's too depressing to think of the possibility that it could come down to me and Gale in the arena. I couldn't live with myself if I went home without him. I'll kill myself when it comes down to the two of us, I decide, because someone has to go home and it can't be me. Gale would find another best friend to replace me for sure, even a wife, with all of the girls swarming him when he returns. Maybe I could send a little note with him for Prim, to tell her good-bye. I know that he'd take care of my family. Even though I want to believe that I can carry out my plan, there's still a part of me that wants to live. Aren't we all selfish like that? We want to live. Such a simple desire, to live, but the Capitol even makes that difficult for us.
"No, Katniss," Gale says, gently putting his hands on my face and turning it towards him. "You will go home to Prim. You will go home," Gale says it with such conviction and hardness that I know he's going try his best to send me back to District 12 as victor.
"Whatever makes you happy, Gale," I say, making sure he catches the sarcasm in my voice.
Gale then leans in dangerously closer, so slowly that I doubt he even realizes what he's doing. His hot breath fans over my face and I shudder involuntarily as a chill runs down my spine. I find myself suddenly short of breath and paralyzed.
"Gale?" I gasp, my heart thudding in my chest. Gale seems to snap out of his daze and pulls back quickly, sheepishly raking his hand through his already tousled black hair. I decide to pretend that the previous moment never happened.
"I-I'll go, then. We need to m-meet Effie around ten for training," I say, and I'm ashamed to find myself still trying to steady my breathing and make my racing pulse go back to normal.
Gale nods, avoiding looking at me again, although this time the reason for his actions is completely different. I slip out of the room quickly, still bewildered.
A slightly shorter chapter, but I'll be updating at least one more time in the next few days. I have a four day break :)
