Twenty minutes later, Haven joins me, looking scared and exhausted. She leans heavily against me as I escort her to the dinner table on floor 4.
"Are you okay?" I ask her, worried, for she is pale and weak-kneed.
"No."
"What's wrong?" I help her into a chair and she looks at me sadly.
"I did terrible."
"No you didn't. No way you could have."
"But I did! I couldn't hit a target worth anything and I tripped myself with that damn pole."
"I'm sure it doesn't matter. Remember what that nasty lady said the first day? The judges have no say in what really goes down in the Games, alright? So, relax. Everything will be okay." She meets my eyes steadily after several moments, grabbing my arm before I can move away.
"I'm sorry, Echo," she says quietly. "None of this is your fault. I'm sorry." I gently extricate myself from her grip and then I tenderly squeezed her hands.
"Listen, alright? None of this is your fault, either. And you were right. We have to keep our knowledge to ourselves, because I don't want to die, and I know that you don't want to die. We'll be okay, Haven. As soon as the Games start, we'll go off and we'll defend ourselves, and survive to the last two, okay? They can't make us kill each other; we'll force them to have two victors. We'll be okay, I promise."
She pulls me down into an embrace—silent, hot tears splattering on my shirt. I hug her tightly, not having any other idea of how to comfort her. The Capital's Game is going to be a mess, and I worry that it will break us all, in the end.
Haven pushes me away after several minutes, claiming that she can't breathe, but I understand that she is embarrassed. I smile softly at her and kiss the crown of her head before settling into my own chair.
We eat like kings, even though neither of us has an appetite. Delicacies from home lace the table, along with hardy Capital dishes, and several foreign ones from other districts. I stray away from the Capital's dishes; for, although they taste good, they make my stomach ache with the thought of what it cost us for them to have their perfect foods. Even the District 4 dishes don't taste perfect. They should taste like salt, seaweed, fish, and home. But instead they are perfectly in balance on salt and flavor. Home isn't perfect, and perfect isn't home.
I nearly throw up before the meal is over, but I somehow know that, once the Games begin, there won't be a lot of eating—if at all—and so I force myself to eat until I can't anymore. This may be the last time for me, and Haven. I can see her battling the same feelings, but we both go until our stomachs won't hold another bite.
We sit silently for an hour and watch the sun set outside of the solid wall of glass. I work on trying to come up with at least one more phrase of encouragement for Haven, but I come up with nothing. Not to mention, I begin to feel like the sooner I can distance myself from her, and the rest of the tributes, the better my chances of not being the one to have to kill someone. My chest constricts with the realization that I would be pushing away a good friend—for that is what Haven has become. As I look at her, I know that it will be the best thing for the both of us; but when her eyes meet mine I know that I cannot leave her. She is not much younger than me, but she is so much more vulnerable. Even though she has an obvious problem of grudge-holding, she is sweet and intelligent, and a very valuable asset to the District 4 team.
I choose to stay with her not because I need her, but because she needs me. She is strong-willed, witty, smart, but she is too kind, and she won't survive a minute after the rest of the tributes finally figure out what is going on.
I try to convince myself to abandon my protective feelings over her. I really don't know her. At all. I can work swiftly and proficiently by myself, plus I really don't want to have to kill her. Going back home with her blood on my hands would be a nightmare….
I have just decided that she can survive by herself—my mouth open, the beginning of my comment boiling in my throat—when I am interrupted, and any chance of severing the preordained alliance is gone.
I expect Delia, but instead it is Larcin and Haven's stylist, Tarla, that come to collect us. I glance at Haven once more, deciding that if she is looking back, I'll stay with her as long as possible; if she is looking away, so long, farewell, good luck, please don't let me cross her path….
My blue eyes crash with her caramel ones and a warmth spreads through my body. Okay, Echo, I tell myself. You've got this one constant in your pocket. The rest is just camping. And then I smile ruefully to myself, because camping doesn't involve murdering your friends.
Haven and I rise simultaneously, linking hands and following our stylists to the elevators and into the lobby of the training building.
"You each have your own hovercraft," Larcin says gently, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me away from Haven. "You won't see each other until the Games start tomorrow morning." For a moment I am panicked, just because I know that Haven deals with stress through fear.
"One moment, Larcin," I tell him, slipping from his grasp and pulling Haven into my arms. In the past several days, Haven has become somewhat of an anchor for me. I didn't need her to survive, but it sure will be a better experience for my sanity if she is there.
"Listen to me," I whisper in her ear as she holds me tightly. "Look for me, okay? I don't know what to expect, but we'll make through this. Just remember to breathe, and eat a big breakfast, understand?" She nods slowly. "I'll take care of you. I promise. I'll see you in the morning." She pulls away then and runs off to meet Tarla, never looking back. I watch her wipe her hands across her face before I turn back to Larcin.
"Sorry. I'm just…worried for her," I mutter and march, tall and proud, to the hovercraft designated for Echo Delta.
`ΣΔ`
We land several hours later. To my relief I manage to get a nap along the way, and I feel rested and energetic.
"Tonight you will stay in your launch room, and tomorrow I will come in the morning and prep you for the Games." Larcin looks at me sadly, his hand resting comfortingly on arm. "I am sorry that I cannot give you any more than my friendship."
"You didn't find any secrets?" I ask, defeated. I had been counting on something—anything. Mostly, I am counting on him to tell me Haven is wrong.
"Time," he whispers back, his eyes flitting about the room. I realize that we are probably being recorded, and I regret asking. "Tomorrow," he repeats, quieter still, then he opens the door to my launch room and leaves me by myself.
I sigh and look around, closing the door behind me. To my surprise and horror I hear a very audible, very final hydraulic hiss and snap as the metal door is locked in place. I suppose that I will not be leaving any time soon.
My sense of helplessness increases as I take in the room. A large, three-foot-in-diameter silver metal plate commands attention in the very center of the room. It is surrounded by crimson carpet and I feel like throwing up, for it all reminds me of blood. A futon sits pressed against a wall, and several plush chairs pepper the room. What they are for, I can't imagine. The only other person that will be joining me is Larcin; I cannot fathom why we will need four extra chairs, but I shrug it off and decide that I will not worry about it.
Tonight is about me, and relaxing, and not thinking about the Games. I force myself to lie down on the futon and close my eyes. I know that I will need as much rest as possible, and the short nap that I took on the ride here is not going to be enough. I concentrate for a long time on breathing and slowing down my heart rate.
Ba-boom-ba-boom-ba-boom.
Breathe, Echo. You're fine. Just, breathe….
Ba-boooom-baa-booooom-baaaa-booooooom.
Think of home. Think of swimming in the ocean, of being free...
Boooom-boooom-boooom-boooom-boooom-boooom.
It occurs to me, just as I am beginning to drift off, that I never learned my score. But instead of dwelling on it, I am sung to sleep by my own heart beat.
`ΣΔ`
"Echo, wake up."
I jerk awake, having been dreaming of unknown monsters and murdering children in their sleep.
Through bleary eyes I finally focus on Larcin. He has a tray of food in his hands and he gently sets in on my lap.
"We've only got an hour. I suggest you eat quickly and get ready. I have a pocket full of secrets."
With no farther encouragement, I scarf down as much food as my stomach can take, downing a tall glass of orange juice and a couple of supplement pills that Larcin said could keep me going for several hours longer than normal.
"Now listen," he says quietly, coming forward and strapping a small Velcro bracelet around my ankle. "This is just a tracking device," he says quickly at the look on my face. "They want to keep track of everyone in the arena."
"Anyway," he continues, checking his watch before meeting my eyes again. "You were right about the Games. I couldn't find out anything about the arena, but you are expected to survive and pick each other off. The last one alive will win. I don't know if you will have to make your own weapons, or if they will be provided. I assume that food will not be provided. I don't know anything about the biome or anything, but I know you'll be outside.
"My advice is limited to generalities," he carries on, pacing the room anxiously. "Stay away from everyone if you can, or at least as long as possible. If there are weapons, get a good supply and then leave the rest. Start with small things, knives and light objects, things that are easy to carry and not cumbersome. If there aren't any, I suggest you make one as soon as possible. You've made spears before?" The question is shot at me hurriedly and I nod quickly in surprise. "Good. Pick up a rock and make one as soon as you can.
"If you can keep this knowledge to yourself, do it. The less the rest of them know, the more time you have to get away from them and create some kind of defense for yourself. As soon as you are away from everyone else, find a source of water, create a shelter, and stay there for as long as possible. The more of a stronghold you have, the better your chances of survival.
"With the way that everyone was talking about you at dinner the other night, you have no problem defending yourself. Don't get cocky or arrogant. Play it safe and you'll come out victorious." He looks at me again, his eyes calculating.
"This is what they've given me to have you wear." He hands me a package wrapped in brown paper. I unwrap it quickly and start shedding my clothes. The package contains a pair of hardy khaki shorts and a thin t-shirt. The shirt is breathable and comfortable. The ensemble is completed with a strong belt, thick socks, and sturdy boots.
Larcin's face is deep in consideration as he eyes the outfit. "You'll be in the sun a lot."
"I know. We wear stuff like this in 4, when we have to be a little more presentable." Larcin frowns.
"I suspect water, but I don't know, Echo. Unless you're in snow, that shirt is going to be visible from a mile away." I look down at it and agree. The stark white of it is completely unnatural. "Camouflage it." He begins talking faster and faster, his anxiety making me nervous and jittery.
He is in the middle of reminding me for the hundredth time to make a weapon as soon as possible when the room begins to flash red and a loud siren begins going off.
"Shit," Larcin exclaims, coming at me so quickly that I can't even fend him off. He steers me to the silver plate in the middle of the room and yanks my medallion off of my neck.
"Hey!" I yell angrily, reaching for it, but the crazed look in his eyes stops me. He takes a large can of clear gel out of his pocket and shoves my necklace into it, coating it in a thick layer of goop. "What the hell are you doing?" I yell again, staring in dismay as he pulls it out and tosses the necklace back at me. To my surprise, the thick leather cord is still as flexible as normal, and the goop has hardened considerable, like a casing on the necklace.
"Look," Larcin says quickly, forcing me to put it on before continuing. "Break off pieces of that, really small, and suck on it for a few seconds when you need it. The saliva makes it expand. Wounds in warm weather fester quickly. That will pack it and keep it from getting wet. Whatever you do, Echo, don't swallow it." He makes me look him in the eyes as he repeats, "don't swallow it. It will kill you if you do. But it will keep you alive and heal minor wounds in hours. If you get hurt too badly, the whole lot of that will stop the bleeding and keep you held together enough to live several days."
The siren has become an incessant beeping in the background, getting louder and faster as the time comes down for me to fight for my life.
"Good luck," Larcin finally says, backing away several steps.
"Thanks," I say back, not sure how I feel about how far Larcin has stuck his neck out for me. "And Larcin," I say quickly as a large, clear tube begins to lower around me. "Wish your family well for me." He bows his head and slowly disappears as I am slowly raised on the plate.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down my fluttering heart, just as my head breaks the surface of the arena.
My first thought is oh my God. The first of the Capitol's Games were going to be a nightmare. Survival was going to be hard in itself, not to mention dodging murderous children.
A glance around me shows that everyone else is just as surprised as I am. Pepper and Cider are watching me to my left, and everyone else is standing stock still, completely in shock and uncertainty.
A voice suddenly emanates from nowhere, like an announcer in a stadium.
"Hello, tributes of Panem! Welcome to the first annual Hunger Games! Good luck to you all, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"
I feel anger fill my chest. What the hell? To my right, Haven is in outrage.
"What the hell!" She yells angrily. "What are we supposed to do?" I see several other tributes nod in agreement, looking in wonder at their surroundings. I think of the two twelve-year-olds, Madeira and Coir, from 8, and wonder how they are expected to survive in this environment.
Haven turns to me, throwing her arms out exasperatedly. "They aren't giving us any rules, Echo. What are we supposed to do?" I shrug once.
"Make up our own, I guess," I tell her before diving into the murky water.
Gah! Finally, the Games have begun! What will be in store for Echo and his friends? Will anyone die in the later-feared bloodbath? And what exactly is the arena like for the first annual Hunger Games?