Chapter Seven

Training begins the next morning. My stylists have left an outfit for me at the front of the closet, one that looks eerily similar to the kind I wore for my hunting trips with Katniss and Gale. Black pants, a burgundy tunic and leather shoes.

As I'm shaking my hair out of the ponytail that I slept in, my mind wanders back to District 12. What must be going on back home? Did my parents catch the recap of the Tribute Parade? They must have seen it in the square along with everyone else. At least my father must have. My mother must be too ill to do anything besides sleep.

Thank goodness for Cinna. Our fiery entrance must have given my district some hope that one of us will return.

Speaking of home, I wonder if Gale took my advice and told Katniss how he feels. Maybe they're a couple now... I smile at that thought, not because I'm selfish and want Peeta to get over Katniss, but because I know how much Gale cares about her. They are best friends. They ought to be together.

Effie knocks on my door, and I call out that I am already awake.
"Well, then get dressed, dear! It's a big, big day, so you deserve a big, big breakfast!"

"Okay," I shout back.

I examine myself in the mirror one last time. My blonde hair is still a little wavy from the ceremony and looks good, but I don't feel comfortable leaving it open. If I have to handle knives and arrows today, I need to be ready. So I ransack the drawers and find a simple black headband that I use to pull my hair off my face.

Then I head down to the dining room where we ate yesterday night. My gaze lingers on the door to the balcony for a second, as if I'm expecting Peeta to still be there. A blush comes on at the thought of last night and my talk with Haymitch, and I roll my eyes at myself. Here I am, on a death mission, and all I can think about is a boy.

Nobody else is here, not even Effie, so maybe she didn't expect me to get ready so quickly. There are a few Capitol attendants arranging platters of food on a side table, so I approach them.

"Should I wait, or can I serve myself, like a buffet?" I ask them.

One of them nods, so I take a big plate and get down to business. Pancakes with some sort of sweet syrup (not honey, like we use back home), scrambled eggs, blood red apples, and sausages – my plate resembles a towering pile of food by the time I sit down and begin the feast.


I'm almost done with breakfast when Haymitch and Peeta enter the room. Effie is nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's eating in her room for a change.

"Hey," I say to Peeta, and he smiles back at me. Haymitch chuckles softly but turns it into a cough when I glare at him angrily. I notice that Peeta is dressed like me – black pants and a burgundy shirt. Did Cinna think of making us look like a team, or is there a standard uniform for training?

"Done already, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks me when I push my empty plate away. Peeta, standing at the buffet table, glances at us.

"I came down early," I reply.

"Well, let us boys finish, and then we can talk about the training you two will do today."

Peeta sits down next to me – I smile unconsciously – and we both nod.

Training lasts for three days, and takes place in a separate room with all the tributes practising together. I'm not sure what training is all about, but my father told me that we get to try out different weapons, learn survival skills and other strategies that might help us survive the Games.

On the third day, we'll have to put up some sort of a show in front of the Gamemakers, and they'll rate us accordingly. The scores of all the tributes are shown on television, but their training techniques aren't.

Once Haymitch finishes his hundredth plate of strew, he sighs, takes out a flask from his pocket and practically chugs the whole thing down. I start to shout at him when I remember his deal – he'll help us as long as we don't interfere with his drinking.

"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now," he finally says once he wipes his mouth.

"Separately? Why would you do that?" Peeta asks. I heave a sigh of relief. It sounds like he doesn't like the idea of it. I'm glad; I want to spend as much time as I can with this boy before someone murders us.

"Say if you had a secret sill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch. He glances at me and adds, "We already know Madge is good with a knife. But if you want to keep your skills a secret, Peeta..."

Peeta catches my eye and shakes his head. "I don't really have any secret skills. I don't have any skills, for that matter."

"Yes, you do," I tell him quickly, "and we're in this together. Might as well be coached together," I say to Haymitch.

He gives me an approving look. "Alright. So give me some idea of what you two can do."

"I can't do anything, unless you count baking bread," says Peeta.

"I don't," starts Haymitch, but I shush him.

"You can do so much!" I exclaim. "You're the best at wrestling in our school, you can lift the heaviest bags of flour at the bakery, and your frosting skills are out of this world!"

"Yes, because wrestling someone to death is extremely easy. And what, am I supposed to throw rocks at people to kill them?"

"With a knife in your hand, you've got a great chance of winning, Peeta! Don't put yourself down, okay?"

He sighs. "Madge, you and I both know that there's no chance of my survival. It's different for you. You're amazing with knives; you can even use a bow and an arrow! Katniss Everdeen is your best friend, for heaven's sake! She gave you lessons!"

I flinch when he mentions her name. The Capitol is watching us, and they wouldn't like the fact that a girl named Katniss can hunt.

Then I realise that I never told anyone except my family about my hunting trips with Katniss and Gale. Even when I went to visit Peeta afterwards, we never talked about the woods.

"How did you know that?" I ask him, and he pauses, as though he's searching for words. "I j-just," he stammers, "I guessed that – that you –"

"Enough," says Haymitch, shaking his head. "Peeta, don't underestimate yourself. Strength is essential for survival, and it can tilt the advantage to a player. They will have weights in the Training Centre, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes."

"Okay," he replies, although he still looks like he doubts himself.

"And Madge, tell me everything you can do. From hunting to survival skills."

"Well," I say, thinking about all my visits to the woods with my friends, "I can use a bow and an arrow, but not very well. My best bet would be a knife, but even there I haven't had much practice. I know some snares, so I could find food that way. I can climb trees, too, but I'm much more comfortable on foot."

Our mentor listens patiently to me, and when I'm done, he smiles. It's the first real smile I've seen from him. "Excellent. So you work on climbing and archery in the Training Centre. Camouflage helps in the arena, and a shady tree can give you that. So 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, like throwing a spear or swinging a mace. Save your special skills for the private session with the Gamemakers. Are we clear?"

We nod.

"One last thing," Haymitch adds, just as we start to get up from our seats. He ushers us down again, and continues, "I want you to be by each other's side every minute in public."

"Okay," I agree. I look at Peeta, and he nods, too, although he does it half-heartedly.

"We'll do it, but I don't see why, Haymitch. In the arena..." he sighs.

"You'll find out why." He shoots me a look, and I frown. So this is for my benefit. What is Haymitch trying to do? Simply get Peeta to like me back, or is this much bigger than that? I wish he would tell me what his strategy is. I don't like not knowing!

"Now go back to your rooms. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten."

There are only fifteen minutes to ten, so I hang around the dining room, munching on some last-minute snacks. It will be weird, being in the same room as all the other tributes. The scary boy from District 2. The child from District 11. Boys and girls from all around the country, some of them actually ready to face their death. And here I am, scared about meeting them. How will I kill, then?


Peeta and I meet Effie at the elevator at ten. "Why didn't you join us for breakfast?" I ask her curiously. Today she is wearing a blue wig, a change I approve of. But there is too much makeup on her face to compensate for the loss of pink.

"I thought you two should have some alone time with your mentor," she explains. "Don't worry, though. I went out for a bite with my friends. Your stylists were there, too. We indulged in some Capitol gossip about the tributes!" She grins at us. "But naturally, you two were the talk of the town! Everyone wanted to know all about you, and I obliged!"

"Thank you. That might help with sponsors." I tell her, as the elevator zooms down. The training rooms are below the ground floor, sort of like a basement.

Th elevator doors open and Effie bids us goodbye with a smile. We step into the room in amazement. It's a huge gymnasium, filled with all kinds of weapons and obstacle courses. There is a trainer at each station, and all the other tributes have already arrived. They are all wearing different outfits with their district number pinned to their shirts. Someone pins the number 12 on my back the moment we join the other tributes.

The head trainer is a tall woman by the name of Atala. She explains that the trainers will remain at their stations and we are free to travel from area to area depending on our choice of skill, whether fighting or survival techniques. Combative exercises with other tributes are forbidden. "You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena, so just practise with the assistants for now." she says smugly. I frown. How can she take it so lightly?

We are dispersed. The Career tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 line up for the fighting stations – spear-throwing, sword-fighting, shooting. The girl from 2 heads straight to the knife-throwing and throws them with ease. I can't take my eyes off her. How does she do that? I am nothing compared to her!

I recall what my father told me. The Career tributes are trained in a special academy until they're eighteen, and that is why they usually win the Games. Volunteering is considered honourable in their districts. In ours, we call it suicidal.

"Where do we begin?" Peeta asks me. I look around, taking in my surroundings. I don't want to go anywhere near the Careers, but the survival stations are flooded with the other tributes. So I just shrug. "Wherever you want to do."

"Let's shoot arrows," he says.

We approach the archery station. The trainer hands us a bow and quiver of arrows each, and explains about the targets. They are kept stationary, but if we are advanced, we can practise with moving targets, too.

The beautiful blonde from District 1 is here, too, practising with the moving targets, but she isn't very good. She manages to hit the head or the stomach sometimes, but mostly she strikes the leg or the arm. Katniss would defeat her in a pinch.

"You go first," Peeta tells me, looking nervous. "Okay," I reply, although I am just as nervous as he is. It would be different if the Career girl wasn't setting the standards here.

I stand in front of a stationary target, that of a man, and take out an arrow from my quiver. The bow is heavier than the one I practised on at home, so my first arrow falls straight to the ground. The Career girl laughs snarkily, and unfortunately this time her arrow goes right through the heart. Lucky shot.

I am so furious and desperate to prove myself that I push all other thoughts from my brain. There is no Peeta next to me, no Career tributes, no Hunger Games. There is only the target in front of me and the arrow pulled across my bow. I shoot the arrow and it plunges itself near the heart.

The District 1 girl glowers at me. I smirk at her. "Thank you," I say, taking a small bow. Peeta laughs. "Let me try now," he says.

We spend the next hour shooting arrows until it drives the Career girl away. She stalks off, muttering something about 'coalmining losers'.

Next, we try our hands at sword-fighting. Peeta is quite good, as it takes force and strength to swing the sword, but I give up almost immediately. "We can do something else," he says. "I think I'll try throwing the knives."

"You do that," I tell him. "I can't, remember? I think I'll try the survival skills instead."

"Okay," he replies.

We're supposed to be together at all times during training, like Haymitch said, but fifteen minutes apart won't make much of a difference.

I look around at the stations, unsure of where to go. I could work on trapping, but I doubt I need any more practice – Gale is a very good teacher, after all.

Instead I head to the edible plants station. There is already someone there, though.

It's the redhead from District 5 who looks a little like a fox. She is busy tapping away at a screen and eliminating various herbs and berries. She barely even needs to look up to do it.

I look questioningly at the trainer and he explains that she is identifying the poisonous plants. He asks if he can help me, but I shake my head. I am too busy watching this girl at work.

When she finishes, she breathes deeply and turns to face me. "What?" she asks, a little too cautiously.

"You're really good at that," I answer.

She shrugs, as if it's no big deal, but her muscles relax slightly. "I'm alright, I suppose. So are you just going to stand here, or do you want to try?" She looks pointedly at the screen.

"Oh, um, sure," I say. I take her place and she folds her arms, watching me. The screen beeps once and images of different plants pop up in front of me. I recognise most of them from the woods – some are just flowers, some are edible roots, and some are extremely poisonous plants. But it takes a while for my mind to register which ones are which, so my score ends up considerably lower than the girl's.

"You could do with some practice," she says, sounding disappointed. "You took too much time with the berries and still chose the wrong ones."

"Those berries looked exactly like blueberries!" I argue, shaking my head at her. "There's hardly any difference. I just took a chance."

"You can't take a chance when it comes to survival, or you die," she argues back. "And there's a clear difference between those berries. Look." She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the station, where real plants are kept on display.

"Look at the poisonous berries. They're called nightlock. At first glance they seem like blueberries, but there's a reddish tinge to them at the centre. They're also slightly rounder." She points at a display titled 'Nightlock'.

I step closer and examine them. I notice the reddish streaks across the centre of the berries, although I can make no sense of their roundness. "They grow in my District, I think. I've seen them, but never ate them," I say.

"If you did, you wouldn't be standing right here," she tells me. "Then again," she sighs, "that would have been a welcome change."

I look at her solemnly and nod. "Yeah, it would have."

She stares back at me for a second or two before saying, "My name's Fauna."

"Madge," I say. I am about to ask her how she knows so much about plants, because her district's main industry is power, when I notice Peeta at the knife-throwing station. His knives stick to the board for a second and then topple right down.

"I'll see you later," I tell Fauna, thinking that the name really suits her. If I recall correctly, it means 'animal'. And with the red hair and the fox-like face, she really is Fauna. "Nice meeting you."

"You too, Fire Girl!" she calls out as I make my way back to the fighting area.

"Did my hideous skills bring you here?" asks Peeta when he sees me walk towards him. "I told you I have no chance in these games," he adds bitterly.

"You were amazing with the sword," I remind him. "But you're not using the knives properly. You need to keep your wrists locked. Stand with your feet hip-width apart, and try exhaling before you throw the knives. It really helps."

"You can't show me, can you?" he asks, sighing. "I'm just no good at this!"

"You don't need to see me! This is about you! Just focus on the target and make sure you're throwing right. It's not too difficult, Peeta."

He tries again and fails, and I groan and throw my arms up in frustration. He frowns at me. "You're a bossy teacher."

I shake my head when I realise that he's right. I'm behaving the same way Gale does with me. He has clearly influenced me more than I realise.

"Watch the girl from 2," I say finally, trying to make my voice kinder. Peeta turns back and watches.

She is still throwing knives even though it's clear that she doesn't need any more practice, even though it's been over two hours. Her knives pierce the heart every time, and her stance is exactly the way I told Peeta to stand.

"Okay," he says finally, and throws the knife, this time keeping his wrist tight. The blade hits the dummy target's arm, finally sticking to the board.

"That's amazing!" I say happily, reminding myself that motivation is essential for any sort of training. "Really good, Peeta!"

He grins at me, putting the knives down. "That's the Madge I know and love. Come on, now it's time for me to show off. Camouflage, come on!"

"Ooh, I get to see the artist at work," I say excitedly.

Peeta grabs a brush and gets to work immediately, swirling greens with browns to create a wooden finish on his arms. I try to do something, too, but I can't paint if my life depends on it. In this case, my life does depend on it, but I let that idea slide.

The trainer is busy explaining the use of the different colours to some bored-looking tributes, but once he realises how amazing Peeta is, he drops everything and joins me as a spectator.

When he's finally done, he stands up and puts his arm next to a tree bark. I gasp. "Your arm looks like it's a part of the tree! I didn't know you were this good; I just thought you could decorate cakes!"

He has never been in the woods, so it must take him a great deal of imagination to paint himself into nature.

"You flatter me," says Peeta, turning pink. "It's not that good."

The trainer smiles at us. "It's great," he echoes. "There won't be actual paint in the arena, of course, but you can use mud and leaves to hide yourself. People think camouflage is a joke –" (at this point he turns and glares at the other tributes at this station who aren't even trying to hide their yawns) "– but it is actually essential for survival."

"I agree," says Peeta. "What do you want to do now?" he asks me, but Atala calls for our attention. "Please gather around the dining table in the next room for lunch. You are free to practise for another hour after you're done."

"That answers my question," declares Peeta. "Shall we?" he asks, holding out his hand in front of me. I graciously take it and we walk to the dining table together, but not before I notice that the Careers are staring at us. The girl from the archery station is muttering something rapidly to the others, but the District 2 boy's eyes are on me, the same boy who was furious about our blazing costumes. He folds his muscular arms and glares, and I glare back, not caring to think about how he could crush my neck to a pulp in seconds.

The boy looks shocked that he didn't manage to intimidate me, and he actually starts towards us when Peeta yanks on my hand. "Can we go?" he whispers. "I'm sorry, but I really don't like those tributes."

"Okay," I answer, forcing a smile on my face. The glare is back on the boy's face, and I wonder for a moment why he was going to approach us. But then the smell of lunch wafts into my nose, and I forget everything apart from the rumbling in my stomach.