Training Day II: The Truth Hurts
Takei Sadeh, 17.
District Eleven Male.
He can't stop thinking about Winnifred.
He doesn't quite know why – these are the Hunger Games, and his only thought should be finding a way to survive. Yet, he feels himself drifting from further and further that goal – putting training off just to spend more time with her. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't want to think about dying and is in denial that he's really here, a tribute in the Hunger Games and from a district that's never achieved more than 9th place. Maybe he wants to prolong training so he still feels like he has time to live, or maybe - maybe it's actually her.
He loves the devil-may-care attitude she walks around with; he's fascinated by the way she doesn't even seem to be fazed by the fact that she could die in only a matter of days. She lives life to the fullest, laughing as she scurries up the rock wall and tossing axes at the target like it's just one silly game, not a matter of life and death. He wishes he could be more like that – more carefree. Manisha's not like that at all. She's nice, that's one thing, and very agreeable. However, she's almost the opposite of Winnifred, quiet and reserved, very focused on the task at hand. He likes her – he really does – but he sees her as more of a little sister than anything else.
"What do you want to do today?" Takei asks, turning toward his younger district partner.
She shrugs her shoulders, looking around the wide room. "Do you want to try camouflage?" Manisha asks, pointing over to the empty station.
He nods his head, and the two of them make their way over to the small booth filled with different natural pigments made from berries and flowers. The trainer instructs them on how to find and make the pigments, and Manisha seems to be listening intently, but he can't focus on what the trainer is saying for more than a few seconds at a time.
His eyes keep drifting over to Winnifred at the ax throwing station. He notices the short, skinny girl is strangely adept at the weapon for someone of her size and stature.
He turns back toward Manisha. "I'll be right back, alright?"
"Oh-okay. Where are you going?" his ally asks in a quiet voice, but he doesn't hear her, already making his way toward Winnifred at the ax station.
She probably doesn't even like him – he's weird, an anomaly – he's supposed to like guys, and she's probably normal and likes girls like every other female does. However, if these are his few last days on earth, he should at least try.
"Hey Winnifred!" he chortles as he walks up to her from behind.
Placing the ax in her hand down on the table, she turns towards him with a crooked, cute smile.
"Just call me Freddie," she giggles, "Winnifred is what my mother calls me when she's mad at me for staying out past curfew or something. Whenever someone calls me Winnifred, it strikes fear right into my heart." She pounds her chest and pretends to die. "You really want to kill me before the games even begin?"
He laughs. "I mean – it'd improve my odds."
She slaps him on the shoulder playfully. "You aren't serious, are you?"
He grins slyly, his cheeks flushing a hot red. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. You have to figure out which one it is for yourself."
Freddie snorts. "Was that a challenge, Mr. Mysterious?"
"I don't know," he chuckles, "If I told you, I wouldn't be Mr. Mysterious, right?"
She nods her head. "I guess you have a point. So who really are you, Takei? A secret undercover capitol agent? A spy for the government?"
Takei shakes his head. "I wish. I'm just your normal boy from Eleven. Went to school for a while, dropped out, grew up in a regular home with my two dads, was - "
"Two dads?" Freddie questions, blinking at him like he just told her he was, in fact, a secret undercover spy for the Capitol.
"Yeah," he replies plainly. "What's wrong with that?"
"Having two dads doesn't sound normal to me."
Now he's the one blinking like she just told him she was an undercover agent for the Capitol. "What do you mean? All guys have two dads, and all girls have two moms."
"Not me. I have a dad and a mom. I mean – they don't pay much attention to me, but I have them."
"D-does everyone have a mom and a dad in Six?" Takei asks, his eyes wide in disbelief. Maybe – maybe he wasn't so different after all. He always knew that his community was weird and different. Maybe his feelings for Freddie were normal, and maybe he was more normal then he thinks.
"Yeah," she responds. "I don't know anyone who is gay."
"What's gay?"
Freddie gawks. "W-where are you from again?"
"Eleven," Takei replies plainly.
"Do you get out a lot?"
"I mean," he mutters, "my dads don't really like when I leave our community, so I guess not."
"Community? Oh shit," Freddie blurts, her eyes wider than a deer in bright headlights.
"What?" he asks, his head tilted to the side in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"Takei - I think – I – I don't really know how to break this to you," she stutters, her jaw hanging open for a few seconds as she pauses.
"Just tell me," he orders. "I can take it."
"I think – I mean, I can't be quite sure, but from what you've told me, I think you're in a cult."
He narrows his eyes. "What's a cult?"
She sighs, burrowing her head into her hands. "Oh boy. I have a lot of explaining to do."
She pulls him aside, and as she talks, he completely forgets about Manisha standing at the camouflage statement, still holding onto the promise that he'd be right back.
Bruno Muller, 13.
District Seven Male.
Is it bad that he likes being the hero?
In the past, younger tributes have been written off as dead from the moment they were reaped, but he's planning to change that. He wants to make an alliance of the younger tributes and show people that they're not to be messed with – that they can be strong too, and maybe – maybe if he's lucky – one of them can be a victor and completely break the stigma. He, of course, would prefer it to be him, but if not, he'd be okay if it was North or Marguerite too.
However, North didn't want to join. Which was okay. If he gets Marguerite on board, he's hopeful she'll change her mind.
Marguerite is at the plant identification station when he decides to ask her, studying pictures of plants that were deadly to ingest.
"Why are you looking at pictures of plants that can kill you?" he blurts out, leaning over her shoulder as she reads the pamphlets. "Shouldn't you be looking at plants that you can eat?"
Marguerite doesn't seem to hear him, continuing to look at the pictures of poisonous plants with a fixed and interested gaze.
He repeats his questions again. Once more, she doesn't respond.
"WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT PICTURES OF PLANTS THAT CAN KILL YOU?" he screams in her ear, wondering if she's deaf like the boy from Six.
Finally, she looks up from the paper and laughs. "I'm not hard of hearing," she replies, blinking her wide eyes at him.
"Then why didn't you respond to me the first time?" he questions.
"Because I didn't desire to."
"It's rude not to reply to someone when they're asking you a question," Bruno responds bluntly, not meaning to be rude, but rather informative. Maybe the girl was never taught proper manners as he was. He's just teaching her.
"Maybe I'm attempting to be impolite," she hisses, then looks back down at the paper.
"You talk funny," he blurts. He's never really had much of a filter, and now is no different.
"Your odor is funny," she retorts, her tone rude, "ever heard of this object called antiperspirant? I'd assume not, considering that foul stench radiating off of your body."
Bruno sighs, flashing her a weak smile. That comment was kind of mean. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I wasn't trying to be rude, I was just trying to tell you what's good manners and what's not. Because sometimes some of the poorer kids in Seven don't have the best manners, so I'm just trying to tell you what's right and what's wrong. Want to hear a joke?"
Marguerite doesn't respond, which he takes as a yes.
"What do you call a tree that's good at ma-"
"Geometree," she interrupts before he has a chance to even finish.
"Wow, you must be really smart! How did you know that so quickly?"
She still doesn't respond, grabbing a book about plants and beginning to read through it. He's oblivious to the fact she might be purposely trying to ignore him.
"Okay then, I don't want to waste too much of your time, so I'm just going to cut right to it. Do you want to be in an alliance with me?"
Once again, Marguerite doesn't reply.
"So yes?"
Suddenly, a book comes flying right at his face. It hits him square in the nose, and he yelps in surprise, rubbing the red spot where it hit him.
"Tribute, no using the books as weapons!" the trainer at the station exclaims.
Marguerite still doesn't talk and instead, just smiles widely at him like she won a prize at a carnival.
"I'm going to take that as a no," he mutters, his eyes wide in shock. On the outside, she looked very cute and sweet, but apparently, that wasn't the case. Marguerite is anything but cute and sweet. She's vicious.
Apparently, no one wants him to be a hero. Not her, not North.
Turning around, he almost bumps right into Mortimer.
"Oh, hi there!" Bruno yelps, a bit startled. To his surprise, North isn't following the older boy around like she's attached at the hip to him.
"Hi," Mortimer replies with a smile, "You're probably wondering where North is. She's in the bathroom right now."
He nods his head.
"Anyway, I came to tell you that North does want to be your ally!"
His face brightens suddenly. Finally, a stroke of luck! "Really?"
Mortimer nods his head rapidly. "Yeah! But just uh – don't tell her I told you that, alright?"
"Why not?" Bruno asks, confused as to why if she wanted him to be her ally, she didn't want him to know.
Mortimer grins. "Promise me you won't tell her this."
Bruno raises his left hand into the air. "I promise. Should I take an oath?"
The District Twelve boy chuckles. "No, a promise is enough." Then, he leans forward so that his lips are right next to Bruno's ear. "North has a really big crush on you."
"A crush on me?" Bruno asks in surprise, his cheeks flushing a hot red with embarrassment. No girl has ever had a crush on him before.
"Yep. That's why yesterday, she pretended she didn't want to be your ally. She really likes you, but she's trying to play hard to get, you feel me?"
Bruno nods his head up and down, then winks at the older boy. "I get you. But there's only one problem."
Mortimer tilts his head to the side. "What is it?"
"I don't like girls like that."
He pauses for a second, his mouth hanging open. Then, a minute later, he speaks again. "You can't tell her that, alright? It would break her heart. She really really likes you. Like, she's practically in love with you."
"But I should tell her the truth, right? I don't want to lead her on."
Mortimer shakes his head. "No, you can't do that. Look – she's probably going to die in the next few days, and you might be the last crush she ever has! Do you really want to ruin it for her?"
Yeah, Mortimer was right, he can't do that to her. He wants to be the hero, and this is his chance. He can pretend to be straight for a while to give North the best last few days ever.
"No - no I don't," he murmurs. "So what do I need to do?"
"You can't give up," Mortimer replies, looking him right in the eyes. "North is very stubborn, so she'll keep trying to pretend like she's not interested. You just have to keep trying no matter how long it takes. Keep asking her to be your ally until she says yes, even if it takes a hundred tries. And don't leave her alone. Hang out with her every chance you get. Help her learn new skills. Give her food. She loves chocolate a lot. But you can never tell her that I told you this information, alright?"
Bruno nods. "Alright."
Although it's not the way he imagined, he's going to be somebody's hero. Even if it's all a lie.
He doesn't know it's a lie in more ways then one, though.
Gareth Emory, 18.
District Eight Male.
No matter how many times he tells himself he's in the Hunger Games, it still doesn't feel real.
You're in the Hunger Games.
You're here.
You're going to die.
It's like he's in a dream – or better put, a nightmare. Nothing here seems real, not the people with their strangely shaped hair and alien-like appearances, nor the buildings that seem to defy gravity, and certainly not the fact that death may only be a few short days away, a dark and scary unknown looming over him like an inescapable shadow.
He's always thought about death before constantly – but it's never felt as imminent as it does now. He always thought it was something that could happen but never quite would – a problem reserved for the elderly, not young eighteen-year-old boys who are supposed to have the rest of their lives ahead of them.
Standing at the fire making station, he practices again and again how to make a fire from nothing more than a few sticks and rocks. Yesterday he was at the climbing and swimming stations, trying time and time again perfecting both skills. Tomorrow he'll finish it off at the edible plants' station, hoping it will be less crowded than the two prior days. At night, he sits in his bed with a small flashlight and reads chronicles of past Hunger Games, learning the tributes mistakes inside and out so he doesn't make the same ones. He's not going to let himself die – even if the odds aren't in his favor. Death has always been his greatest fear – what if there is nothing after it? What if it's just a numb darkness? What if it's not even darkness? What if it's just ... nothing? Everyone will forget him. He won't exist any longer. He'll just waste away into nothingness. He's not going to let that happen. He's not.
Gareth doesn't dare go near the weapons stations in fear that someone will turn on him and kill him prematurely. Yet, he watches his district partner out of the corner of his eye as she learns how to use a bow. She seems actually alright at it. In another world – another time, another place – he thinks they could have been friends. She's very quiet like him, reserved and shy. They would have made a good pair if one of them was just a bit braver, a bit bolder. Yet, neither of them wants to make the first move – Gareth too afraid that she's holding a dangerous trick up her sleeve, and Beckett, well – too timid for her own good.
Turning back to the fire he's making, he looks up at the trainer. "Am I performing the steps correctly?"
She blinks at him in annoyance. "Yes, for the twefth time, you are doing this right. Do you need me to repeat the steps to you again?"
Gareth nods his head. "Just for reassurance."
The trainer huffs in annoyance, taking a small ball of tinder and placing it in the center of the pit. "First, you take tinder, which can be anything light and thin really. Paper works, or if you have a knife, you can skin the bark of trees. Also, if you're lucky enough to find one, a bird's nest works excellent."
The young boy repeats her words back to her verbatim.
"Can I go onto the next step?" she questions, clenching her teeth frustratedly.
Gareth shakes his head. "No, let me repeat it one more time. First, you take the tinder, which can be anything light and thing really. Paper works, or if you have a knife, you can skin the bark off trees. Also, if you're lucky enough to find one, a bird's nest works excellent."
He can see the trainer roll her eyes. Whatever. She's here to teach him, and this is how he learned: memorize everything down to even the smallest detail. However, even that's enough to quell his fears about the Games.
This time, the trainer doesn't even ask if he's ready. She just goes on anyway. "Next, you're going to want to build a small tepee around the tinder with thin sticks. Like so."
She proceeds to build a tent-like structure around the ball of tinder, and Gareth does the same, mimicking her every movement closely.
"You seem to be very good at that," a voice behind him coos.
Gareth is so surprised he practically jumps out of his own skin, leaping high into the air like a frightened cat. Whipping around, he looks at the smiling District Three girl with wide, frightened eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologizes with a sympathetic grin.
"Well you did," Gareth growls a little bit too rudely. As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he swears under his breath and cringes silently. Be nicer, he chides in his own head, why do you have to be so rude all the time? She was just trying to be nice. You're going to make an enemy you don't need right now.
"Uh - uh – I mean – uh – sorry?"
Annddd he just word barfed. That's awkward.
Surprisingly, the girl's smile doesn't waiver. "It's alright, apology accepted. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to join my alliance. We're trying to recruit as many older tributes as we can so we can finally have an alliance that will rival the careers. So far it's me - I'm Freyja, by the way, Braxton from District Ten, my District partner Skylar, and we're working really hard on getting Coral, the girl from Four. The siblings didn't want to join, and neither did the girls from Seven and Six. So if you don't want to join, I completely understand, but if you do, I think it'd be a way to live a little bit longer and maybe have some security in the games!"
Gareth shakes his head. He doesn't trust an alliance that big that lets anyone in without even getting to know them first. The odds are that someone in the alliance is a snake that'd turn on their allies the first chance they get. He can't take that chance.
"I'm appreciative of the extremely generous offer, but I'm regretfully going to have to decline. My apologies."
She looks at him a bit funny like he just spoke Spanish or another foreign language, but he's used to it. His language choice has always been a bit odd, and people often do look at him funny just like Freyja did. He's learned to take it as more of a compliment rather than an insult, however.
"Okay, well, if you change your mind, let us know."
And then she leaves and goes to talk to his district partner. He wonders if she's just going down the line of tributes, asking everyone she comes upon. If so, that alliance is going to implode within the first day.
Turning back toward the trainer, he gives her an awkward smile.
"Can you repeat the previous step once more?"
"Once more?" the trainer asks, raising a suspicious brow. "Or twenty more times?"
"Probably closer to fifty, but if I'm extremely focused, we can strive for thirty."
She rolls her eyes and then huffs. She begins to speak again, and Gareth listens, not wanting to miss a single word because that word could be the difference between life and death in the arena.
Archer "Archie" Caspian, 17.
District Four Male.
"Move, shrimp," Pilate hisses at the tiny twelve-year-old girl sitting at the lunch table they sat at yesterday. "This is the big kids' table."
She doesn't look up from her book, spooning food into her mouth as she reads. When she doesn't move after a minute, Pilate bangs his fist down on the table loudly. This gets her attention, and the girl looks up from her book, staring straight into his icy eyes as if she were daring him to get closer.
"Get going," he growls, narrowing his eyes at her. She does the same, narrowing them back. "You can read that somewhere else."
Then, a moment later, she stands to her feet, placing her book on the lunch tray and grabbing it with her two hands. It's only then Archie notices how short she is. Narrowing her eyes at Pilate, the girl grins slyly. Then, she does something completely unexpected. She spits right in his face.
Pilate yelps in surprise, staggering backward and wiping the wet saliva from his face. Hana, Clay, and Valentine all burst into laughter, and Archie can't help but chuckle along with them.
"What the hell, you little prick!" Pilate howls after the girl, who walks away calmly, her head held high. "I'm going to kill you first, twerp! You better watch your back!"
"That was the best thing I've seen all day," Clay chuckles, taking a seat at the table. Hana and Valentine nod in agreement, sitting down next to him. Archie takes the seat across from Clay.
"Yeah Pilate, how does it feel to get owned by a twelve-year-old girl?" Hana asks, turning toward him with the widest smile Archie's ever seen. And that's saying something, considering how much Hana smiles. She literally loves everything to the with the Hunger Games. The weapons, the food, even her awful chariot costume. He wishes he could be that positive about the whole situation as her.
"I didn't get owned by her," Pilate hisses back, taking a seat at the edge of the group, "she made a grave mistake. She'll be the first one I kill in the bloodbath, and I'm going to make it hurt. She'll regret spitting in my face soon enough."
"Okayy," Valentine giggles, winking at him. Clay laughs and winks at him too, trying to do it flirtatiously like his district partner did. He fails miserably though, looking more like a creep than anything else. The four of them burst into laughter while Pilate just eats his food quietly, fuming silently to himself.
"You know back in One, they call me Golden Boy," the handsome boy confesses.
Archie raises a brow. "No way. You must be lying. With that wink, you must get no action."
Valentine shakes her head back and forth. "Nope, it's true. Everyone calls him Golden Boy, and he gets all the girls. Probably more than you, Archie."
The red-headed boy grins. "Well, that's not a problem for me, because I don't even like girls."
Hana chuckles. "Well, I do."
Once again, all of them break into a fit of laughter – all of them except Pilate, that is. The District Two boy eats his food silently, and Archie can see him stealing envious glances at the four of them every so often.
Well if he wanted to make friends, maybe he should have thought that through before he began to run the alliance like a cruel dictatorship.
"I'm going to use the bathroom. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Pilate announces, then stands up and heads over to the restroom.
"Hey guys," Archie announces with a sly smile once Pilate's out of sight, grabbing a small bottle of liquor he stashed in his shoe the previous night. He places it on the table for all of them to see. "Want to do something stupid?"
Clay shakes his head. "I'm all for pissing off Pilate, but don't drink, sorry. But if you want to do shots, I guess I can grab some soda?"
"I'll do the soda thing too. I can't get distracted, and with that guy around," Hana murmurs, pointing to the direction Pilate disappeared in, "I need to keep my senses sharp. You never know when he's going to break and go bizerk."
Archie snorts, then turns to Valentine, his eyes landing on the dark-skinned girl. For a moment, he thinks she's going to say no, which he understands, as it is the Hunger Games after all and like Hana said, she might not want to get distracted from the task at hand. However, Archie's not too confident he's going to make it out alive, and he wants to make these next few days the best that he can. And if that means getting a bit buzzed, it means getting a bit buzzed.
A slight smile appears on Valentine's face, and she takes the flask, untwists it, and pours some in her lass. "And I took you for a goody-two-shoes, Ginger."
"Is that a dare?"
"Only if you want it to be," she grins, raising her lips to the glass and taking a sip. "Mhmm. Tastes absolutely awful."
"Oh! But that's the best part," Archie chuckles, unscrewing the cap and taking a giant sip from the flask. It burns his throat like fires as it slides down, but it's a pain that feels good, like ripping a Band-Aid off his leg.
Hana snorts, watching them as she eats. "You two are so dumb."
"It's a dare!" Archie protests, flinging his hands up into the air. "Who declines a dare?"
"I don't know," Clay replies, placing his hand on his chin as if he were pretending to think really hard. "Maybe a sane person?"
Archie smiles at him, and Clay smiles back. It's all playful, he knows, unlike the type of teasing Pilate does. Surprisingly, the four of them have gotten rather close over the past two days. They feel almost like a tightly knit group of friends. He takes another sip and laughs, it's a warm and fuzzy laugh, and a minute later everything begins to feel more vivid, like he's finally living - like he's back in Four, lying on the warm sand with his boyfriend, talking about what they'll do once he wins the games.
It's never been a question for him of whether he'd volunteer – it was a fact of life, and there was no escape from his fate. His stern mother made it so there was only one choice. He told his boyfriend he'd be back – he would – but will he, really?
He lets his body slump back in his chair, and he tries to forget where he is.
If this is what letting go feels like, maybe dying won't be so bad after all.
Pilate Antoni, 18.
District Two Male.
The first thing he sees when he gets back from the bathroom is Archie slumped back in his chair, laughing hysterically. The second thing he sees is a glass flask sitting in the middle of the table, its contents almost empty.
He leaves them alone for eight fucking minutes and this happens. Fantastic.
Stomping up to the table, he yanks the flask out of Archie's hand and dumps it out on the floor.
"Hey!" the red-headed boy exclaims, reaching for the glass bottle. "That's mine!"
"This is yours?" Pilate inquires angrily, his lips curled into a frown.
"Oh boy," he can hear Hana whisper to Clay, "here we go again."
"Alcohol is not something that should be consumed by careers!" Pilate yells angrily, grabbing Hana's glass and dumping it on the table. She yelps as water spills all over her training suit. He does the same with Clay's glass, but the boy is quicker this time, leaping out of the way as water splashes all over the table. Valentine holds her glass fiercely, but he's stronger, yanking it out of her hand and pouring it onto the table. This time, a brownish liquid comes out.
"You too?" he squawks. "I thought you told me you didn't party."
"I never said that," the Hispanic girl growls, wiping the sticky liquid off her suit. "I just said I'm not your stereotypical party girl. I never said I didn't party."
Pilate growls, clenching his teeth. "Whatever. Lunch is over. We're going to get back to training."
"But I'm not done eating!" his district partner, Hana, protests.
Taking his own glass, Pilate dumps his water on the rest of her food. She squeaks again as the remaining half of her sandwich gets drenched in a coating of water.
"Now you are," he growls. "Let's go."
His allies stand wearily, following in line behind him. He's not deaf – he can hear the things that Hana, Valentine, and Clay whisper to each other about how they could be better leaders and about how Pilate was too cruel. But he can take it. He's heard much worse than that. And what matters is that he's in control; his allies don't have to like it, they just have to obey.
However, he can't have his alliance members disobeying him directly like they just did with the alcohol and the comments at lunch. They're beginning to get more comfortable, which means that his power and control over them is beginning to decrease. He needs to keep them on their toes. He needs to do something rash, something crazy.
A little part of him knows he's turning into Draco, the controlling boy he always swore he'd never be like, but if that's what it's going to take to lead this alliance and win the games, he's going to have to be a bit cruel and controlling. After the games, he can go back to being his normal self. He can play his music again and be happy.
"Let's spar with the trainers this afternoon," he declares, heading over to the combat area. His four allies follow behind him, Archie still laughing like a lunatic.
Once he reaches the station, he turns back toward his allies, narrowing his eyes at the four of them. "Someone who isn't drunk, go first," he orders sternly. "I'll give you pointers as you spar."
"Why do you need to give us pointers?" Valentine asks, tapping her foot in annoyance. The alcohol seemed to take away whatever filter she had previously.
"Because I'm the leader, remember?"
"Actually, I don't."
He feels a panicked knot form in his throat, and he turns to Clay abruptly. "Go."
The tall District One boy nods his head mutely and makes his way up to the small arena, grabbing a sword off the rack.
"What level difficulty would you like?" the trainer standing by the pit asks.
Clay opens his mouth to respond, but Pilate quickly cuts him off.
"The hardest one you have."
He can see Clay gulp nervously.
"You're a career, you can take it," Pilate says to his ally. "Or if not, you don't have to be part of this alliance. We're the best, so we fight the best."
"O - okay," the light brown-haired boy stutters, stepping into the arena. "I'm the best," he utters, as if he's trying to convince himself, "they don't call me Golden Boy for nothing."
"Good. That's what I thought."
Valentine laughs in the corner. "He can speak for himself, alright Pilate? You're such a bully."
"Shut your mouth drunkie, or you're out too," he snaps back at her.
She mumbles something to Hana sitting next to her. They both snort a moment later.
"The both of you, quiet. I'm serious."
"You know, Pilates are like things that middle-aged ladies used to do when they wanted to lose weight, right?" Valentine informs him, snickering.
"Shut up."
"Okay, middle-aged woman exercise," Hana giggles, giving him a small wave from a few feet away.
He clenches his fists into small balls, but thankfully, that's the last comment either of them makes. They both shut up after that, their attention fixed on Clay's sparring match with a trainer who looks more like a gorilla than a man.
However, both of them are getting way too comfortable making comments like that. Alcohol or not.
Turning his attention to Clay, he's surprised to see that the boy isn't doing so well. He's only seen him use his preferred weapon, a sword, with dummies before. He looked pretty good then. Yet, right now, his movements are slow and sluggish, almost as if he were tired. He goes to dodge a blow but the trainer is much faster, hitting him in the side with the fake wooden sword. If it was in the games and the sword was real, that could have possibly been fatal.
Clay goes to strike the trainer in the legs, but his jibe was lethargic, and the trainer saw it coming a mile away. He dodged it with ease, then came down and slammed his sword right into Clay's shoulder. It didn't even look like the career made an effort to move.
"Stop! Stop!" Pilate exclaims, waving his hands in the air.
Clay looks over at him with a confused expression. "Why?" He huffs, seeming unusually winded for someone who had only been fighting for a few minutes.
"You would have been dead by now."
"For once," Hana chimes in, "I agree with the bully."
He feels the hair on his back bristle but tries to ignore her comment.
Clay nods, dropping his sword and making his way onto the outside of the pit. Pilate can see his eyes drooping with tiredness, and immediately, the District One boy takes a seat on the ground beside Hana.
If he was that tired after one fight, he shouldn't be in this alliance.
"Tired?" Pilate inquires, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Clay replies, nodding his head slowly. He yawns a moment later. "I think I need a nap."
"You don't get naps in the games," he growls, his tone turning sour.
Clay yawns again, his eyelids drooping further. "Look, I think I just got a poor night's sleep last night. I - "
Pilate cuts him off. "Well if you got a poor night's sleep in a nice bed, you won't sleep at all during the games."
As soon as he says that, an idea dawns upon him. An idea that will secure his spot as the leader for good and make sure he's the one calling the shots. There won't even be a question of his leadership after this.
"Look, Clay – with that performance, I don't think you have what it takes to be in the alliance."
He knows that isn't true; after him, Clay is the second strongest person in the career alliance. He's tall, strong, and muscular, and when he was training with the dummies, his skills almost rivaled Pilate's own. If Hana, Val, and Archie are ever to get sick of Pilate as the leader, they'll probably make Clay leader instead. However, this is the perfect time to remove Clay from the equation altogether. With him out of the alliance, there will be no one else to rival his skills so they'll have to keep him around. It's genius.
"What?" the boy gawks. "B - but I've been training for years! I beat out five other boys for this spot!"
Pilate smiles at him sadly. "Well that's too bad, isn't it?"
Clay looks like he just got hit by a truck. His jaw hangs open, and his eyes are wide in surprise. Not to mention he looked exhausted too.
Pilate turns toward Hana, Archie, and Valentine, who all look as shocked as their former ally.
"And if any of you want to think about speaking up for him, be my guest. You can leave too."
He smiles as he hears silence, music to his ears. Of course no one wants to leave. He's the strongest tribute, and the only thing worse than having him as an ally is having him as an enemy. No one would even dare if they have a good head on their shoulders.
"You know what? I'm done with this bullshit," Valentine says, standing up to face him. "Last time I didn't listen to my gut when you kicked out Coral even though I knew it was wrong. And it happened again. I'm putting my foot down. Clay is ten times the tribute you'll ever be. Unlike you, he doesn't rule with fear. He's actually nice to us. You're just a bully. A big, scared bully. Inside I bet you're so insecure you cry yourself to sleep at night."
Pilate's eyes widen in surprise as the girl steps over to Clay's side.
Whatever. Maybe he miscalculated one, but the other two couldn't be that brave, right?
"Yeah, I'm done too," Hana announces, standing up and walking over to join Clay and Valentine. "I never liked you anyway, even before the reapings. Draco was always better. And I'm not scared anymore. Alone, you're nothing. You're not even a threat. You're just a scared, little boy."
His jaw drops, and all eyes turn to Archie.
"Archie, look, if you stay with me, we'll rule the arena together!" Pilate exclaims desperately, his voice cracking. "I don't have to be the leader. You can if you want."
"This is for Coral, and for my whiskey," Archie laughs, flipping him two matching middle fingers. "Fuck you, Pilate! Rot in hell!"
Pilate's face goes white as the four of them walk away, laughing as they go.
What kind of leader is he if there is no one to lead?
He's nothing.
Fuck.
What did he just do?
A/N: I'm guessing it broke sooner then you all expected, hmm? Yeah, well, a little dash of alcohol definitely sped up the process. And what is it with tributes in my games drinking two or the day before the games begin? I don't know.
I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you everyone for the reviews! We're getting so close to the games and it's very exciting! It might be a little bit longer until the next update, as I'm going away for the weekend. However, I'm planning to have the games start by the end of July, so I'll catch up with the updates next week!
Hope you fellow Americans had a nice 4th,
paper :)