Training Gym
Deep underground the Training Center the 23 of us wait for someone to dismiss us to the Training gym. I trace my finger along a long bench that holds 12 of us and one next to it holds the other 11. All of us tributes wear a thin unitard with their district number printed on the arm. My "1" is faded as if someone has worn it before. The stone, bleak room has only two exits, the elevator and the door to the Training gym. This is where a man named Septimus Lickprivick comes into the room. Septimus is the head trainer for The Hunger Games. His job is to explain the object of each station, the ways you can die in the arena, and to get the tributes in shape to compete. I don't listen for most of his speech, instead I analyze the other kids around me. Luckily, I look like the strongest girl here. Most of the boys could sit on me, though. The one sitting next to me is the girl from 7 with the fearsome makeup and cold eyes. Her hair contrasts her face as a curly, blonde work of art.
When Septimus says, "You may begin," I return my attention to him. We all stand up and file into the door. The boy from 9 smells awful, like hay and sweat.
Before us is a warehouse of a room. Its three story ceilings and steel walls hold dozens of stations and devices all painted in the Capitol colors of black and red. I smell rubber and iron and finally the kids around me disperse to the station of their choice.
I stand still, watching the cliques form as if it were instinct. The champs, congregating at the throwing knife station. I see the tributes from 2 and 4. All they need is me. I see the intellects from 6 and 3 by the flora recognition mechanism as they discuss the edible plants nervously. The kids with no chance loiter between stations: The tributes from 8, 12, and 11.
"Just gonna stand here?" Septimus spanks my shoulder and brings me back to reality, "Get on it!"
I stutter and get my feet moving. I head toward the career tributes. Bold, strong, confident.
"So, what're your names?" I flirt. Too blunt! Abort Mission!
"Vigor," says a black-haired boy slapping the two on his arm.
"Diana," says the black-haired girl from 2, spinning a knife between her fingers.
"You're the lady who took that shiny thing?" points the boy from 4.
"This one?" I pull out the talisman, twiddling it like Diana with her knife.
"Yeah!" What a doofus he is!
"So, what makes you think you can join this wolf pack, yes?" Diana eyes me up and down critically.
"We're getting right to the questions, aren't we?" I snigger. "Well, typically," I speak to her like a child, "The kids from 1, 2, and 4 tend to stick together in a group called the 'champ pack'"
"I'm not dumb," Diana growls.
"I'm not inferring you are. In fact, I think you're very intelligent and skilled. I'd like to join your 'wolf pack'" I smile.
"Show us what you've got," The girl from 4 holds out a spear.
"I'm not the best at spear throwing, but I'd like to show you what I am good at," I push down the spear and look over at a rack of swords.
I scroll my finger across the assortment of blades as the four other champs watch me. I have to prove my worth. I have to intimidate them and I am not winning so far. The kids from 2 who look like siblings seem to not budge at my sight.
I select long, pristine hook swords. I may as well show them what I am best at. Around the sword rack are about a dozen dummies. Septimus said they were as strong as a human body. Callahanorio could resist every slash, so I wonder how these will stand.
I strut in front of a dummy and glance at the champs as I grip the swords in my hands. I grin and then show them what I am made of. I lift my sword and thrash and slash the blade on his body with swift, clean sweeps. I move to the next dummy; decapitated. I gallantly pivot to each dummy, instantly lacerating its limbs. Slice, slash, stab. Swing, jab, slash.
Soon, all twelve dummies stand headless and limbless. I turn to the champs and present a bow, "Voila,"
Diana, Vigor, and the girl from 4 seem satisfied, but Cowrie just gives me a nonsensical look.
"So, you really can fight, but can you kill, yes?" Vigor asks me once I am back by them.
"Not surprisingly, I have never killed anyone, but I don't think I will have a problem ending someone's life with one of these," I caress the hook swords dauntlessly.
"Good. I say we keep her, she seems really good, yes?" Diana says. I give her an appreciative smile.
"Yeah, she's a killer. Almost as brutal as the girl from 5." Vigor looks over to the archery station.
"I like you. We want as many fighters as we can get," says the girl from four. Her reddish brown hair is to her ears giving her a sweet, childlike look. I wonder what she can do in battle. "I'm Misty, by the way,"
"Margot," I say.
"Cowrie?" Vigor taps his shoulder, "You like her?" They all talk about me like I am not there.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,"
"Great, welcome to the wolf pack. First thing's first. In the arena we do not betray the pack, nor do we fail to provide a service. Understood?"
"Easy. That won't be an issue for me," I grin. I can't stop thinking that we are all going to die.
"Misty and I are gonna check out the shelter-building spot," Cowrie announces.
"Okay, we should, um," Vigor pauses.
"Do plant identification," I finish.
"Yeah,"
They leave us be as we head to the large screen on the gym wall. A long keypad has buttons galore with numerous icons of leaves and flowers. We spend a few minutes figuring out how it works until we get the hang of it. Vigor has a knack for it, but Diana and I fall short. There is no room for error when you are going to starve.
"You know, I was surprised by your unusual name," Diana points out as we stare into the keypad, focused on quickly tapping the correct plant for each question.
"Really? Why is that?"
"Honestly, kids from one tend to have… dumb names. Like, Sunshine, Velvet, Glitter. What's with your name, yes?"
I want to disagree, but all three of those names go to my school. "Well, Margot means pearl. My mom just liked it, I guess," I explain. Her eyes are wide and a bright, starry green that shines against her pale skin and black hair. In fact, she is almost like a fairy. Vigor and Diana's green eyes surpass mine based on beauty.
"Diana is an okay name, I guess," she says. Her eyes flicker between the keypad and the screen. So far we have only mastered a few plants. Vigor says he is going to the archery station to scare away the girls from 8 and 9. I don't like that we have to scare them, even if the winner is bound to be one of us champs.
By the end of the hour, Diana and I have almost perfected our flora recognition tests. I don't need to spend much time on combat anyway; that will come at the private sessions.
At the knot tying area the five of us introduce ourselves.
"What can you do?" I ask Misty.
"Well, I'm no volunteer," They all look at me, "But I can use a spear very well. Back in Four most of us fished, so I learned at a young age the most effective ways to kill fish. Spearing just came easy,"
"I'd like to see you all show off your skills," I say. "I mean, you all required so much effort to join your pack, so I wanna see what makes you eligible,"
"He can make weapons out of anything. Sticks, pebbles, bark, I mean anything," Diana says about Vigor. He simply nods his head and continues on his hitch.
My fingers weave an intricate knot step by step as I read the instructions. "How to tie a hunter's bend" It is called. Diana and Vigor carefully follow their ropes but Misty and Cowrie seem to struggle.
"Being from Four, isn't tying knots like… a known thing?" I ask. Vigor and Diana seem to wonder the same thing.
"The only knots I know are good for nets and boats, not snares and hitching," Misty says.
"All I ever did growing up in Four was prepare fish for export and send them off on boats and planes," says Cowrie.
"Oh,"
"Being from One," Cowrie starts with an edge, "Why aren't you bedazzled like a rock candy?" he asks.
"Well, because we are all required to wear our assigned garments, Cowrie sweety," I retort. He seems defeated. Don't start it with me, I can kill you whenever I want in that arena.
"I can throw knives, yes," announces Diana.
"Is that your best skill?" Misty asks.
"Yes. I think,"
"So we've got a stabber, two throwers, a crafter, and a… hauler?" I say. I check Cowrie's arm muscles. They are deeply tanned and larger than mine.
"Did anyone here volunteer?" asks Vigor.
"Me," says Cowrie immediately.
"Really?" says Vigor.
"Yeah, he did, I was there," Misty says.
"What for?" I ask.
"Money," he says bluntly.
"That's it, yes?" Vigor asks.
"Yep, my dad just wanted to start a new life in the wealthy areas of 4. Like where Misty lives," Cowrie says. I wish my reason to be here was that simple.
"Oh, I do not," denies Misty.
"So, did he make you train?" I ask.
"Kinda, he made me practice strength and swimming, but not much else," so he can't use a weapon?
"What can you hunt with?" Diana asks nervously. Who wants a harmless swimmer on their team?
"Well, anyone with a knife can kill, right?"
"Maybe,"
"We ought to teach you a thing or two," I suggest.
I begin to think about everyone's names. Vigor and Diana. Their names have a sense of edge and strength. As do most kids from 2. In the past few years there have been kids like Armor, Steele, and Athena.
Misty and Cowrie. Misty's name is awfully unoriginal, but Cowrie is something I have never heard.
"Are we going to acknowledge the elephant in the room?" I ask. Misty and Diana look over toward the buff girl from 5. "Not her! Me!"
"What about you?" Cowrie asks. Idiot.
"The Pardon, why I'm here," I roll my eyes.
"Oh yeah!" Cowrie smiles like he had discovered something miraculous.
"Well, thank you for asking, because I knew you were all waiting for someone to. I vetoed my Pardon because my family wanted me to, because my grandfather needed expensive surgery and we needed the money," I don't want to get him legs anymore.
"So you trained for this, and volunteered,"
"Yes, Cowrie. I trained and volunteered," I say.
"Cool, same!" I swear I will kill this boy in a heartbeat if it comes down to it.
"I thought we were going to do the whole, 'big issue but everyone ignores it because it is obvious' kind of thing, but I was wondering why exactly you chose to do this, yes?" Vigor says.
"I just felt the tension, I felt you guys wanted to know. But now all but one of us can die knowing why I came here,"
"Lovely," Diana remarks.
The five of us manage to learn a substantial amount of knots over the few hours we have left until lunch. Diana promises she will show me her throwing knives and will teach me how to do it better than I can now after lunch.
At lunch the 23 of us sit at five different tables. I see the tables with their respective cliques, much like the gym. The intellects (plus macho lady) from 5, 6, and 3. The gatherers and the hopeless ones from 9, 11, and 12. The insignificant underdogs from 8 and 10. And the two from 7 sit alone, but across from one another at their table. The girl seems too good for the boy.
"So, I see the alliances have formed already," Misty points out, eating a meaty sub.
"Yeah, and there are our first targets," Vigor eyes the table with 9, 11, and 12.
"They should be easy, especially if they go to the Cornucopia," I say. I hate it, but it's true. The last time anyone from those districts won was in 11 almost ten years ago.
"What if I die?" Cowrie randomly asks.
"We celebrate, yes?" Diana says casually, eating her salad like a bird, tiny pecks and munches.
What is so twisted about The Hunger Games is that alliances are formed, friends are made, and people trust one another, but in the end they all know only one person is making it out alive. If that person is me, I hope I don't get too close to anyone.
"Let's give the nerds a little stare," Misty says.
"How so?" Vigor asks.
"Scare 'me. Just glare and smirk,"
"Um, okay," I say. The five of us look over at the round-haired girl from 6 and she seems bloodless when she sees us. Her face drains and she looks at the boy next to her. The whole table of kids soon are paralyzed by our gaze. I feel like an angry cat, just staring at the tributes like mice. Soon it is more awkward for us than them and we resume eating.
"I guess that worked, maybe," I say.
"Sure it did, yes," Vigor ensures.
"It's not like they aren't doomed already. If we're lucky, the Gamemakers will kill them for us."
"What's a Gamemaker" asks Cowrie. He's going to die.
"A Gamemaker," I look at him to make sure he's looking, "Is a person who controls every inch of the arena. The air around you, the ground below your feet, the animals, the plants, weather, everything. They will kill you if the Capitol hasn't gotten their dosage of murder in a while." I say.
"Gnarly!" He says.
Misty rolls her eyes, "Not really!"
"Yeah, no. A good amount of people are mauled by animals or swept away by disasters each year in the arena," I say.
"Not if we keep them entertained!" Cowrie says something smart for once.
"True, and that's why, no matter how gory, we have to be predators," I say. "Besides, the five of us with our skills are unbeatable,"
"Does anyone know anything about the other tributes?" Diana asks as she bites into a tomato like an apple.
"There's Maitland from 5, the chunky girl," Vigor glances over at her. She weighs more than the rest of her table combined. Maybe almost 150 pounds, and she is seventeen at least. I hope she can't run.
"We may need to look out for her," Misty chuckles.
"There's Otto and Detrai from Six," Cowrie says. Those are the pale boy and the girl with round hair.
"I only know you guys and the boy from Eight, Glove," Diana says. I look over at him. His rough brown hair is all I see because he has his head down; Not a thing of food is near him. He obviously knows the situation he is in for. I remember seeing him training, but only with a stick in hand and starting a fire. Everyone knows fires draw attention in the arena.
"I recognize almost everyone, but know no one's name. I remember most of them from the parade," I admit, "Speaking of which, did you guys see 12's costumes?"
"Yeah, they were pretty cool. I hated ours," Vigor says.
"Why?"
"It was heavy and hot. Also, you were the focal point, you stole our show," He glares.
"That's because I was in front. Besides, you guys looked great," I say.
"At least you didn't look like a sardine," pouts Misty.
"I thought yours was - both of yours were really cool," I say. Wait! I need to be boastful! "But I, honestly, think mine was a show-stopper. All thanks to my stylist," I flutter my eyes. I need to keep my persona, no soft-girl talk.
"Yeah, well," Diana stutters.
"The kids from Seven were cool," Cowrie cuts up a thick fish filet.
"Yeah, the girl was really pretty. She looks a little dangerous, though," I say. I noticed that she can throw axes as easily as dodgeballs.
"But guess who is even more dangerous?" Vigor motions his hand around the five of us.
"Yeah we are! Yes!" Diana cheers. The other kids from other tables look at us.
"Woo!" Cowrie pumps his fist in the air.
"It looks like we've got a concrete alliance," I chuckle.
A chubby Avox boy comes around to all of the tables and collects our trays and then Septimus steps in the room and stands in front of the doors back to the Training Gym. "You have another three hours until your training for the day is up. Use it wisely, or else you will die," he gives a shallow nod and opens the glassy doors back to the gym.
We agree to work on our most avid skills for the next hour to quell the other tributes' hopes. Not only will the winner be one of us, but if I put my months of training to use it will be me. With a sparring trainer, I practice everything from balancing on odd terrains while sword fighting, to learning about the best places to target while dueling. Zenaveve was a mediocre swordsman, but could never teach me the technicalities other than just swiftness and strokes. Contrarily, this trainer knows a great amount about swords and the other tributes seem frightened to watch me sunder the dummies like butter.
As soon as I finish, I see Vigor headed toward me, scraping a stick with a knife to sharpen it.
I chuckle and Vigor looks at me confused, "What?"
"It's just, why would you want to sharpen a scrawny stick of you had a perfectly honed knife right there?" He looks back and forth between his possessions. "And I don't think you're supposed to remove anything from the wildlife stations either," I say. He drops the stick right onto the floor and waves his arm to follow him. "What do you want?" I ask as he leads me toward a small excerpt of earth, a perfect replica of a forest with rocks and trees. Most tributes practice tree-climbing and fire-starting here. He sits down and I sit next to him.
"So, how's it going?" he asks.
"Fine, actually I learned a lot,"
"Don't let the kids know,"
"They just think I'm practicing," I say. "You?"
"Well, I managed to make a weapon out of a stick and a stone, a leaf and some sand, and even a blade of grass and a water bottle," he says slowly, "I just wish I could, y'know, fight like Diana and you,"
"Did you volunteer?"
"No, but Diana did, yes"
"Really? She didn't tell me when I asked,"
"I think Cowrie interrupted her," he rolls his eyes.
"Why did she?"
"Honor, glory, riches," he says.
"So she must be quite the knife thrower,"
"She could hit you from ten meters away, square in the neck, yes" he shutters. This may be true in training, but people change in real combat.
"Well, since you're from Two, you are already a champ. You look well-fed, strong, and you're smart. Can you use a knife?"
"If I was in dire need, yes, probably," he admits.
"Well, I will teach you how to use a few different blades,"
"Rea-"
"If you teach me how to make some tools from nothing," I smile.
"Deal!" His eyes flash green, almost like a traffic light. Just like Diana's.
Vigor asks me questions about my surroundings, mostly rhetorical, and it seems to mentally unfold the exceeding uses of everything around us. The dirt and moss are cold and relaxing and the room seems to have weather of its own. It's amazing what the Capitol does with its technology.
"Kids get ropes in the Games, right?" I ask.
"Duh, didn't you have a trainer who taught you, like, everything?"
"Yes, but unlike most trainers, mine never actually went into the Games,"
"Yikes,"
"She's great, and my mentor,"
"How?"
Because I committed a felony and was sentenced to choose going to The Hunger Games with detrimental exceptions including having my old trainer be my mentor.
"Just 'cause," I stray. "Anyway, since they get ropes, I can use this…" I pick up a rock the size of my fist and knot the rope around it, tightly fastening it to the end of the rope like a pendulum. I swing the rope and the rock gets moving, spinning faster as it whizzes around in circles. "This could kill someone," I laugh.
"Well, maybe. If you hit them directly in the skull it would," He corrects me.
"Well, that's where I would aim," I grin. A quick, almost painless punch hits me right in the jaw, completely knocking me out.