Elmett didn't quite manage to lose the ridiculous headpiece on the way out the door, but he did succeed in pushing it back so that his face was showing. This improves the look even more, and glancing around the other tributes, I'd rate him in the best five outfits. With my victory last year he'll have the extra attention in the interviews, especially since Allasan has shown nothing to spark the Capitol's interest. Maybe, just maybe this quiet young man has a real chance.
As soon as they roll to a stop I help Allasan remove the heavy metal head-piece. She whimpers and rubs her aching neck and I push away the impulse to dump it on Marco's head to see how he likes it. In future I will ask to look over his designs before he puts them on my tributes as he clearly has no idea what is an appropriate weight for a small, physically weak girl.
We all traipse up to dinner and a recap of the parade, where Cupros makes a haggard reappearance. We occupy ourselves eating while Gloria scolds him for about half an hour and the stylists compliment one another and slander their fellows' efforts. Finally the time comes to do something about the tributes. One in particular, who I will not let die because his official mentor is on a bender.
"So," I say, waiting until Gloria has a mouthful of pudding to be heard.
"Training. Together? Or…."
"Separate," Cupros finishes for me.
Allasan and Elmett glance uncertainly at one another.
"I don't mind together," Allasan says eventually. "I don't have anything…at all."
Elmett thinks a little longer. I can practically see him weighing up the disadvantage of letting this girl in versus having a second mentor who isn't an alcoholic. Finally he shrugs and says "Together is fine."
"All right," Cupros says, and I have to remind myself he's been doing this as long as there have been mentors, drunk or not. "You first girl. Allasan. You said you had nothing but everyone has something. Anything?"
She shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes and he heaves a sigh.
"Relax girl. Take a breath. Now. What are your grades like at school?"
To my surprise she does relax, though she continues to bite her lip before answering.
"Ok I guess. Not the best, but ok."
"Best subject?"
"History," she says without hesitation. "I'm pretty good at remembering things, though I don't know how that will help."
"It helped me," I tell her. "In the…in the…"
"Maze," Cupros finishes. "If you can remember, learn the plant stations. What you can eat and what will kill you. It's more important than learning to fight in three days. And you boy?"
Elmett hesitates a long time, and again I picture the cogs turning in his head, clockwork like he was dressed before. Finally he says, "I'm not top of my class, but I could be if I wanted to. I'm reasonable at most things, and I can make things. Not as well as you did…"
He trails off when he looks at me, and I remember to try and smile. Be supportive. Beetee said that was one of the most important things.
"And I'm not…" He pauses again, glancing around as though the walls might hear his secret and spill it to the world. I wouldn't be surprised if there were cameras recording us, though I doubt they'd release any footage to the public. "I'm not afraid to die, or to kill. I nearly died when I was six. I should have died, but didn't. Everything since is just borrowed time, and we're all just meat in the end."
This time when he meets my eyes I don't smile. I see that cold creature that kept me alive reflected in them. It probably lives in every victor, every person who killed other children to save their own skin. The knowledge that you value your own survival more than losing your soul, and that you can live with the blood of others on your hands. Unconsciously I clench my fingers together, feeling Jasper's blood, Felton's blood, my own blood sticky on them.
"…a factory fire."
I realize someone must have asked how he nearly died and refocus on the conversation.
"So what should I learn?" he asks and I look to Cupros and his experience first. After all he is Elmett's official mentor.
"Survival as well, but don't write off the weapons stations. Try them until you find something you like and focus on it. Simpler the better. You don't have time to become an expert, but you can learn something."
Elmett nods and Allasan smiles shyly at him. "If you want we could team up in the Arena. I can learn about food and shelter and do that while you…"
"No," Cupros says. "You both need to learn how to look after yourselves. There's no guarantee you'll end up together. And you should try a weapon too girl. If you can use it, learn it. If not then the others will underestimate you more."
She looks scared but nods, and the silence drops once more until Gloria decisively claps her hands.
"Well I think it's just about time for bed darlings! You're going to have a very busy day tomorrow and you need your sleep."
She shoos them off to bed and comes back to remind us about the interviews in the morning. Belatedly I remember my promise to Plutarch Heavensbee, and tell her it's a sponsorship meeting. She tells me to call him and rearrange my meeting as we'll be on at 11.40 and I won't have time to make it to the workshop and back.
Plutarch isn't happy, but he agrees when I promise to spend the whole afternoon there. The price of my victory.
I stop by Elmett's room on the way to bed. He's still awake and answers the door fully dressed.
"You can ask the servers…" Deep breath Wiress. Focus. "For…for paper and…and…pens."
For the first time since his name was called I see him smile. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
My belongings have been transferred from the Remake Centre to my room here, including the miniature motor I was briefly toying with that I left out on the bench. I remind myself to check it's still in one piece later and rummage through the bedside table drawers until I find the book mentioned in the meeting. Mentor Protocols and Responsibilities. The crisp pages show it hasn't been thoroughly read even though the date in the front marks it as six years old. I try to remember what might have happened six years ago to cause a revision, but nothing jumps to mind. That was the year the boy from Seven won at the cost of his eyes and voice. Something about the final interviews? Or maybe they just revise it periodically.
It's boring reading, tedious and methodical, but with my memory I should only need to read it once. There are a few useful points which I fix to a prominent point in my mind, protocols for mentors to override stylists if they feel their aims are too divergent; a step-by-step guide to sponsorship gifts from obtaining funds through to selecting the gift and having it delivered; at which points we will be required to provide interviews to the public in normal circumstances.
I'm not too worried about the interview tomorrow. Cupros and I will be on together and Caesar Flickerman knows how to deal with my condition. He's very good at finishing my sentences, often with better words than I intended.
I finish the book around two and drop immediately to sleep, my dreams for once dominated by scrolling pages of boring text instead of drowning in a sea of blood.
-xXx-
The mentors for District Two leave the studio to resounding applause, glaring at us as they pass. Toria Wells even manages to jostle me on her way back-stage, and I can feel the ache in my arm within seconds from her sharp elbow. Seeder pointed her out to me during the meeting yesterday, spitting out her name with intense dislike. The only hint I needed to know the muscular woman from Two is unpleasant as they come.
I remind myself not to wipe my sweating palms on the purple velvet dress, one of Dido's of course from my Victory Tour. As mentors we don't receive stylists of our own, though Marius stopped by to do my make-up and hair for the stage.
Remember, your family will be watching. The mentor interviews are always shown during mandatory viewing. Relax.
It almost works.
"And now we welcome to the stage the mentors from District Three: Cupros Glint and the reigning victor, Wiress LING!"
The studio audience gives a decent cheer as we step out into the light. I even remember to smile and wave as we take the seats opposite Caesar Flickerman and Narcissus Elkheart. Caesar has his usual flashing white smile, Narcissus his sallow leer familiar from the screen as he begins the interview.
"Welcome, welcome. Now first let's start with Wiress, our reigning victor. How are you enjoying experiencing the Games from this new angle?"
What do I think of mentoring. I practiced this one.
"It has been…been interesting so…so far. "
"Maybe we should come back to that question later when you've had more chance to experience the full Games as a mentor," Caesar chips in with a smile, and I try not to think about doing my next interview with Allasan's death fresh in my mind.
"That…might be…"
"And of course, Cupros Glint, a veteran of the Games, filling in for Beetee Chan who was sadly unable to join us this year. Hel-LO Beetee, hope you're doing well!"
Caesar cuts in again over Narcissus when the latter opens his mouth to keep quizzing me.
Cupros forces a smile, and sits up from his slouch to give Caesar a friendly nod. He knows exactly what's going on too.
"And here I thought I'd earned a year off," he says, making sure it sounds jovial. Both hosts laugh with the audience.
"And miss out on all the fun?" Narcissus asks with a smirk. To his credit Cupros doesn't let his expression waver. He's even turned up apparently sober and in a clean shirt, though he didn't quite manage to shave. I hope Gloria doesn't bother him too much about that.
"So what can you tell us about this year's tributes? Are we going to see District Three go back-to-back this year?"
I glance at Cupros and catch the slight nod of his head, telling me that I should speak first. Get Allasan out of the way quickly so we can focus the attention on Elmett.
"Allasan Pinto is…is…a smart…smart girl. There's more to her than you…"
"More to her than we might expect? That sounds intriguing, doesn't it Narcissus? Can you tell us more?"
I smile and shake my head, dodging the question like I did the ones about my own abilities last year. Let them wonder. It's better than trying to make something up that will clearly be disproven later.
"I can't say. It would be best for…for her to…"
"Surprise us? Well I for one will look forward to being surprised. And what about your male tribute?"
He turns to Cupros and I let my shoulders slump in relief. As Narcussus takes over the quizzing of Elmett's virtues Caesar glances at me again. A brief look that says he knows the only surprise Allasan might give is not dying in the bloodbath. That he understands and won't make me scramble through false words in public. It makes me wonder how an insightful and seemingly decent man can spend his life hosting an annual slaughter festival.
"So do you rate him as high a chance as Wiress was last year?"
The sound of my own name drags me back to the present.
"He has a different sort of potential, as I said. Of course with a different field of tributes it is hard to say as well. But I wouldn't write him off just yet."
"We wouldn't dream of it, would we?" Caesar turns to the small studio audience, who cheer their support. Not that any of them showed up to sponsor him yesterday. Still, there's time. If he survives the deadly first day of the Games maybe they will remember this interview and look to him as an underdog.
Narcissus throws a few more questions about our opinions of the tribute parade and our stylists, and I manage to stutter out a mostly sincere reply. When our time is up we give one last wave to the audience and try not to run off stage, where we pass Denissa and Morstan waiting in the wings.
She glowers and he gives us a brief nod, and we're free as the applause starts up for them.
"If you need me I'll be at Undertaker's," Cupros says, fingers reaching for the hip-flask that isn't in his pockets. "If that yabbermouth busybody needs me I'm at Sallibury's or possibly The Gate. I'll be back by the morning, and I'll be sober to take him through the interviews in a few days. That's the best I can do."
I don't argue with the offer. It's more than I expected. "If you need me I'll…I'll be…"
"You'll be at the Training Centre or in the Sponsorship Hall. 'Cause you still think it makes a damn difference."
"Or at…Heavensbees," I add and he grimaces.
"Good luck with that."
He saunters off to get drunk again, to drown the monster inside him. Checking my watch I realize I need to hurry if I'm to change before heading to my own appointment. The last thing I need is Dido tracking me down and chastising me if I were to get oil stains on one of her prize outfits.
~xXx~
It's full dark by the time I make it back to the Training Centre, though of course there is no such thing as dark in the centre of the Capitol. Bright lights and loud music mark bars and street-parties, drunk celebrations as the people prepare to watch their favourite annual killing spree.
Gloria pounces on me as soon as I come in the door, demanding to know why it took so long to settle a sponsorship deal, and as our Escort she should really be informed of the details, and where in Panem had Cupros got to now…
Allasan is still at the table, picking over a bowl of grapes. Waiting for me to return.
"Well?"
I realize Gloria must have asked me something, though I didn't catch what.
"Were you even listening to me? I saw you were both at the interview. You must have some idea where he disappeared to."
Oh. Cupros again.
"I think he…he said….Sall…Salli…"
"Sallibury's!" she says triumphantly and bustles out the door. From the table Allasan giggles.
"He's not going to be happy when she finds him is he?"
"He might not...not…be…there," I tell her and she laughs again, then groans.
"Oh boy, she's going to be mad at breakfast."
Probably. Especially if Cupros makes it back in without her noticing.
I sit down beside her and a white-clad server appears with a plate of pasta and meat-sauce. The smell reminds me that I haven't eaten since breakfast and I tuck in.
"So how did training…?"
Allasan smiles and begins shyly describing all the plants and insects she learned about today. Less fruits and berries than in my Games, and more leaves and grasses. Beetles and grasshoppers not bees and wasps. It sounds like this Games will be somewhere a lot more open than mine.
"Was there tree bark?" I ask and she frowns in thought, slowly shaking her head.
"Not that I remember. But she did say that we were only looking at edible foods or…or poisons."
I pretend not to notice her voice catch on the last. If she had any chance of making through the bloodbath, poison is what I would suggest she use. If she was able. I don't think she has it in her to kill.
"Ask tomorrow," I say firmly to distract her. "Say you heard…heard bark is…"
"Edible?" she guesses. "Or poison. Why though?"
"No bark, no…no…trees," I say, my mind supplying me with a vista from an old movie. Flat, empty grasslands roamed by big cats and massive gray-skinned beasts. Patches of scraggly bushes surrounding waterholes. Some clumps of trees in the distance, always far away and never spanning large areas.
There's no point trying to describe it to her, so instead I fetch out my sketch-pad and pens and draw it. I'm not as good at natural scenes as I am machinery, but she soon gets the point and says she recognizes the movie from school. It reminds me we're only a few years apart.
While I fill in the details I ask her to describe the other tributes, and watch as her face quickly drops.
"The boy from Two is scary. He got angry when the trainers didn't keep up with him at sword-fighting and started kicking one of them when he fell over. He didn't stop until the head trainer made him."
As I suspected, Two have sent a more savage tribute this year.
"The girl is scary too, though I don't think they like each-other much. But the six of them did sit together at lunch."
"Six?" I ask, remembering that the girl from Four wasn't a volunteer.
"One, Two and Four," she confirms. "And I heard some of them talking to Osbern from Ten, but he told them to leave him alone."
I've seen Games where the Careers had one or two other strong tributes with them. Usually when the alliance broke those other tributes were the first to die. I'm not sure whether it would be better to ally with them from the start or risk being a target from day one.
Probably not a question that will ever bother anyone from our district.
When my eyes start to itch I declare it time for bed. Allasan goes willingly, already yawning as she disappears into her room. No sign of Gloria or Cupros either, though it's nearly midnight when I finally crawl under the covers. I leave the sketch-book out as a reminder of my home-work for the Heavensbees.
My look over their prototype hovercraft engines turned into a full-scale tour of their research facility, where new designs and modifications are produced for miniature and full-size testing. The sheer array of tools had me drooling minutes after I'd walked in, which the workshop manager Damascus Riley promised to let me play with some of them in the future if I were to collaborate on this or that project. I didn't need offers of sponsorship money to agree to that.
It took me a bit of time to spot a few subtle problems with the prototype engine, but with my speech difficulties and the surrounding noise and bustle of the workshop I wasn't able to fully describe what I was seeing. Luckily their technical engineers said they would prefer diagrams anyway.
~xXx~
The final day of training dawns unusually overcast and gloomy. The atmosphere at breakfast is no more cheery, though at least doesn't include the loud argument from the previous day. I had a chance to talk to both Allasan and Elmett about their private sessions last night, the latter already well ahead with his planning assuring me that he knew what he was doing.
From Allasan I learned that he'd been practicing with ranged weapons and with a knife and staff, though hadn't shown anything amazing. It wouldn't surprise me to discover he is better than he lets on with at least one of them. For her part I managed to convince her that a low training score isn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, she doesn't want to make herself a target. It's the only thing I can think to do so that she won't be too disappointed with the inevitable 3 or 4.
I spend the rest of the morning finishing the technical drawings for Heavensbee's engineers, with my suggested modifications to the engine parts. Clara Redfern calls as I'm finishing up to tell me all about some new café she and her friends have discovered, and demanding to know how I've been in the Capitol for four whole days and not caught up with them yet.
I promise to meet her for lunch, excusing it to Gloria as another sponsorship interview that she can't dispute. Clara is old enough now to do her own sponsoring without having to go through her parents and I have to remind her that she probably shouldn't spend all her savings at once. Perry joins us for the meal, though the rest of their little group is busy with work or parties to stop by.
It's a fun way to spend the afternoon, and eventually Clara and I negotiate a sponsorship deal that involves one of our tributes making it to day three and that won't put her too much out of pocket. I don't know how much individual items will cost, but based upon the monetary sums discussed for my two gifts last year I figure the money should be enough to cover simple food or water, at least during the early days.
Clara tells me all about the architecture course she's finally started at the University, and how she's already sick of the male students who look down on her for being a pretty young girl. As 2 o'clock rolls around I excuse myself to make it back in time for the return of our tributes. Elmett arrives alongside me and answers my query with a bland shrug. I think he'll manage to at least match my score of 6, maybe push for a 7 or 8, though this would definitely increase the target on his back. Allasan arrives twenty minutes later, not unhappy, but in almost a state of trance-like shock. As though it's finally sunk in that she could be dead in two more days.
I avoid the potential break-down by hiding in my room and calling Beetee, who sounds a little better than when we left. He's still coughing too frequently for my liking and his voice is hoarse and raspy, but he's no longer rambling delirious with fever. Between his coughing fits and my drop-offs the conversation takes a while, but it leaves me feeling better even than the lunch-time meeting. He assures me that I can't do anything more for Allasan and that yes, Cupros usually does drink this much and if he says he'll be sober at a particular time and place then he generally will be.
He commiserates about Gloria's determined stance and reassures me that few to no sponsors is the norm for our district. By dinnertime I'm in such a good mood that Lucia and Gloria give me odd looks, and Allasan even rises from her numbness to smile once or twice.
Both stylists join us to view the training scores in the lounge, where Elmett's bland poise doesn't quite cover his anxiousness. He hopes to do well, I realize, and share a glance with Cupros. The older man shrugs and drinks, his usual response to just about everything. Let it happen as it happens.
The show starts as always with District One. Both the stocky boy and the tall girl score 9s. Both of them are topped by District Two who score 10s. A strong year for Careers it seems. Then it's Elmett's bland face followed by the number 7. Above average for an out-district tribute. Too much above average. They'll be watching for him now.
Allasan scores a 3. Gloria makes soothing noises and Cupros drinks some more. I wonder if the Careers might leave her alone and target Elmett instead.
The Career boy from Four scores a 9 as well, though the girl only manages a 6. Still an above average Career pack, especially when none of the next five tributes score more than 5.
The girl from Seven rates a 6, and the girl from Eight tops her with a 7, but I can't imagine either of them having much chance against the strong Careers. Osbern, the massive eighteen-year-old from Ten scores a 9, high enough to make him a worry for the pack, especially since he refused to join them. Probably their first target after the bloodbath if both of ours go down.
The boy from Eleven scores a 6, the remaining three manage 4s. Not a whole lot of new information. We send the tributes to bed to discuss angles with the stylists for the interviews. The only angle I have for Allasan is seemingly sweet, as though she's hiding something. Elmett is a little trickier. He's painted a target on his back with his above-average training score. Of course coming from a victor's district has its own target as well, and eventually Cupros decides that he should throw some arrogance into the act. As though he knows he's smarter than the rest of them in the hope it might stop the Careers from attacking him outright if they think he has a secret plan.
Even though we're mentoring them together we split up for interview practice. Unlike Carmenius' unhelpful litany of faults and corrections, Gloria has Allasan smiling again as she shows her the proper way to sweep out her skirts and walk in heels. Unlike me, Allasan has no trouble balancing in the monstrosities and the few inches of height add to her appearance more than all the pretty dresses and make-up.
Rather than try and stammer through some questions, I write a list of likely ones down and Gloria does her best Caesar Flickerman impersonation, adding in a few of her own that I very much doubt a man will think to ask.
We break for lunch feeling happier than I expected, and I let Allasan spend the afternoon talking to her mirror and practice her pretty walking and sitting. Just by tilting her head a little she conveys the possibility of something secret in her otherwise very convincing sweet little girl act that I don't think is an act.
Even if it's not the most memorable interview, it'll be better than having her break down on stage, and I use the last hours of the day to drop in my finished sketches to Heavensbee's project engineer.
Marco stays for dinner and only complains a little when I demand drawings of Allasan's interview outfit, a rather respectable silvery dress with puffy shoulders and lace on the sleeves. She'll look younger than her age, but in this case that's not a bad thing so I let it go.
Having remembered my phone, I take the opportunity to call home where my mother and Balia scold me for not calling sooner and fill my ears with the happiest conversation topics they can. It takes me a little while to realize why, and when I remember I'm about to oversee the first of probably many deaths, children of District Three's blood on my hands, I find that solemn disquiet settling back in.
In my dreams I snare Allasan in one of my traps and laugh as the thorns tear her to pieces. I sneak up behind the feasting Elmett and ram my knife into his neck, over and over until the bloody glasses slide off his face and it's Beetee lying dead at my feet.
When I wake I surrender to the cold voice in the back of my mind. My inner monster. It stays in charge for the rest of the day, which passes by in a blur of color and unretained conversations until the interviews. I sit in the stands with the rest, letting the monster take over again so that I don't feel too panicked by the surrounding crowd. Sour Vikus to my right. Cupros to my left, sneaking sips from his hip-flask. The squeaky-voiced woman behind me and her hairy friend. Lucia and Marco in the seats in front.
The interviews follow the usual pattern. The Careers are eager and spoiling for a fight. Brutus from Two seems particularly savage, even going as far to ridicule the chances of several of his alliance members. Allasan pulls of her sweet if unremarkable act and Elmett follows with an arrogant, cold attitude that sounds all too familiar. My inner monster smiles. I don't.
The boy from Four rebukes some of Brutus' comments, the girl's tongue tangles around her words. Several seats down, Diya's face is already buried in her hands as her girl Ava stumbles to the centre-stage. Three mumbling minutes later she's replaced by the boy, who does no better, and visibly quails when he accidentally catches the eye of Flora from Two, who makes a blatant throat-slitting gesture.
Tansy from Seven tries and almost convinces the crowd that she's a confident fighter. Jessi from Eight is sly and elusive, and promises to put on a good show. Osbern receives a massive cheer from the crowd and he thanks them with a friendly half-bow before taking his seat.
That broad district accent makes him sound friendly and harmless, though it's clear from the start that he's not at all intimidated by the glowering Careers. Caesar asks him about his strategies, and he replies with a grin that he's learned all he needs to win back home. Anyone special back home? No, no-one in particular. No-one as pretty as these Capitol girls for sure. Maybe he can steal one to take back home with him when he wins.
Most of the mentors' heads turn to look down the line, where Ten's only male victor, a grizzled man in his sixties gives his boy two thumbs up. The girl from Eleven provides the inevitable break-down into tears, and in the ensuing silence I can hear Seeder's sigh from fifteen seats away.
The girl from Twelve barely holds it together as she speaks of her family back home. The boy doesn't and old Marcie's muttering is even more audible than Seeder's sighing.
It takes far too long to escape the crowd, and by the time we make it back to our rooms I'm feeling edgy and uncomfortable. My skin keeps prickling and a pounding headache has taken over any rational thought in my brain. The first thing I see when stepping out of the lift is a smiling Allasan, still in her silver dress and make-up, who wants to know if she did ok.
"You were…fine," I tell her, hoping rather cruelly that she'll leave me be now so that I can sleep and have a clear head for tomorrow.
Instead she beams back and asks, "So do you think I have a chance?"
I want to say yes. Should say yes. If it's the last thing she ever hears from me, the least I can do is be positive, but my hesitation says it all. Her face falls and the tears well in her eyes as she realizes what I've known all along. She is going to die tomorrow morning and there is nothing either of us can do about it. She scurries to her room, the sound of sobbing trailing behind her and I whisper "I'm sorry" to her retreating back.
There is nothing I can do.
I'm not surprised to have nightmares again that night.