Training — Day 1, Part 1

Reuben Koled, 17, District Six

Evelyn sits across from me in the plushy living room of the District Six Tribute Quarters. She's trying so hard not to bite her nails, but now she's digging them into the cushion of the sofa she's on, creating a swishing sound that would be lovely if it weren't in the context of a girl having a breakdown. Though our mentor said that training wouldn't begin until nine, we've both been up since six. Old habits die hard, I guess, and it's hard to sleep with the nerves.

"I— I can't do this."

"Oh, come on," I say, "What's the worst that could happen?"

She stares at the ground, and then she covers her face. "I'm telling you—If that man from Ten takes one look at me, I'm going to freak out. Or that guy from Two. Or the girl from Two. Or—"

If it were anyone else, I'd tell her that she'll be okay and that it won't actually be that bad. But since this is Evelyn, I fully believe her. She almost tripped off the Reaping stage, dropped her fork the moment our mentor asked her the very first question, and nearly stumbled off the chariots—and that was before the fire started. She's not completely defenseless—after the Capitol tried to kill us before the Games even started, her flight instinct took over and she almost outran me back to the Remake Center. However, that's not an option here in training.

And that's exactly why I can't just leave her to the wolves.

"Look at me," I say.

She slowly lifts her eyes.

"If you get scared, just look over at me, okay? I'll give you a smile and a wave and tell you that you're doing fine."

She smiles slightly. "Do we really have to split up for training?"

"It's only going to be for half of the day."

"But can't we just stick together the whole time?"

I sigh, though more out of sympathy than frustration. "We've been over this. We're from District Six. We don't have many skills, so we need to cover as much ground as possible."

"Not that part," she says, "The part where we're going to find allies. Why can't we do that together?"

I shrug. It's just what our mentor told us to do, but that isn't exactly a reassuring reason. "Maybe people will be more likely to accept if they feel like they're being ganged up on."

She thinks about it for a moment. "Hmm… I don't like being ganged up on either."

"So there's your reason," I say. "Look at me."

"Hmm?"

"You gotta be brave. I'll help you pick out someone to talk to when we get down there, and I'll stay within eyesight. And it's okay if you're awkward. Everyone's awkward."

"You're not awkward."

"I'm glad you think so."

The ghost of a smile transforms into a real one—nervous, but real. Good job, Reuben.

"Trrrrrributes!" The piercing voice of our escort breaks the calm silence.

Evelyn groans and buries her head in her hands again. I glance at the gold clock. It's not even eight yet. "Is it already time to go?" I say.

He gives us a pitying look. "I know, darrrling" he trills, "They've pushed the schedule up to be safe. But it's so earrrly… I feel bad for you! It must be hard to train while sleep-deprived. I could barely get myself out of bed just earlier."

Ha! Imagine thinking that nine o'clock in the morning is too early. I give Evelyn a pat on the shoulder, and we follow him to the elevator. Even as we wait, Evelyn begins to tremble, although she's trying to put on a brave face.

I pat her on the back. "We'll get through this. Everyone else is scared too."

"E- Even the trained kids?"

"Probably. They can't hurt you now anyway."

The elevator doors slide open to reveal the District Elevens, standing as far apart as they possibly can. They radiate icy energy from their respective corners colder than the metallic blue interior of the elevator. I give them a smile. They don't smile back. We shuffle in, and Evelyn hides herself in an unoccupied corner, as if to shield herself from their stone-cold gazes. Great. Exactly what we needed.

"You guys enjoy breakfast?" I say.

The Elevens look at each other, and then back at me. Interesting. Although they seem to hate each other, it's got to be more than that.

Their escort laughs nervously. "I'm sorry for the behavior of my tributes. We had a wonderful breakfast, thank you…" She trails off when her district pair turns their glares towards her, but she tries to smile anyway. It seems that Capitol culture demands that one constantly looks like they're high on painkillers.

Thankfully, the doors quickly slide open, and I pull Evelyn behind me as we hurry out. The ride down seems to have convinced her that there's no way she'll be able to talk to anyone.

"What's their problem?" I mumble, more for her sake than mine. "So cold."

"Isn't that how they acted during their Reaping too?"

I try to picture the videos we watched on the train. "That sounds about right. Dang, you've got a good memory."

She smiles. "It's not super useful, though."

I look at the circle of tributes, which is increasing by the minute."Let's figure out who we're gonna talk to."

She shudders.

"The Elevens are definitely out. What about… the Twelves?"

She pauses, quietly observing. "Maybe… The girl looks creepy, though."

I take a second look. I wouldn't go so far to say creepy, but I can't deny that the overly gentle smile on her face seems a little out of place. The guy is bigger than she is, so that's a no-go. "What about the Nines? They look pretty approachable."

She takes a long, hard look at the pair. "Maybe… I think I could talk to the boy."

I have to keep myself from sighing. It's the thirteen-year-old, the only kid here younger than she is. I don't know how much help he'll be in the Games, but if it'll give Evelyn a boost in confidence, it's worth our time.

The rest of the tributes are now here, and the Games are moving forward. I've spent so much time helping Evelyn get hers together; I need to figure out what I'm doing.

Perhaps teaming up with Evelyn isn't the most strategic decision.

Doesn't matter. I've made up my mind and I'm sticking to it.

I hope I don't regret this.

Cleodora Mulroy, 18, District Four

The moment we're released to train, Devrell nudges me with his elbow.

"Doesn't that rope course look fun?"

I swallow, savoring the lingering aroma of coffee from earlier this morning. That wake-up mug from earlier is the only thing keeping me sane through his incessant enthusiasm for literally everything. "I guess so."

"And the training equipment here is so much fancier! Is that a simulation room?"

"Maybe."

His eyes stop exploring the room and land on me. "You're not excited?"

I half-smile, half-snort. It's hard to be sleep-deprived and excited. "I'm still a little sleepy."

He frowns. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's fine," I say, even though I definitely don't appreciate being awoken in the middle of the night for something as trivial as food. Apparently, at 3 AM, he discovered how to custom order dishes. Instead of waiting until a reasonable hour, his first reaction was to immediately barge into my room and tell me about it.

"The steak was worth it, right?"

It definitely wasn't. It tasted good in the moment, but my full stomach made it hard to sleep afterwards. "I guess so. I prefer it at a reasonable hour, though."

The District Twos are coming towards us, with the District Ones right behind them. Devrell immediately goes forward to greet them. How does he have so much energy after last night? Did he stay up until three? Did he go back to sleep afterwards? I don't think I want to know the answers.

"Hey!" he says, running forwards.

The District Two girl waves back, an energetic smile on her face. Please… don't tell me she's exactly like him. "Good morning!" She sticks her hand out. "I'm Alia. District Two."

"Devrell. District Four."

There's an awkward pause as the two of them wait for the guy from Two to say something, but he doesn't, his arms crossed and lips sealed.

"Well," Alia says, apologizing for him, "He's Zeus. He doesn't talk much. He probably wouldn't have come over if I didn't force him along."

Get moving, Cleo. Don't be the weird one staring at everyone else—though I'm sure Zeus has that base covered.

"My part—" Devrell starts, but I rush over and join them.

"I'm Cleo," I say, cutting him off. I can introduce myself, thank you. "Nice to meet you."

The District Ones are then upon us, and they introduce themselves as Jasmine and Lannister, both of whom are displaying brilliant smiles with perfectly straight teeth. I suppose they're rich too, much like Devrell and Alia—whom I recognize from her Victor sister. It's a bit hard to get a read on Zeus, though.

There's an awkward silence for a moment. It seems like everyone's waiting for someone to be the outspoken one, to give a direction. From my first impressions, I would've pinned Alia as the de facto leader, but she stands with her arms crossed, waiting expectantly.

Welp, time to step up.

"So," I say, clearing my throat, "What's our plan?" I would suggest survival skills since they weren't as heavily drilled into us back home, but what if it immediately pins me as a weakling? Perhaps the others will volunteer ideas first.

Alia looks around with a look that screams "I have a plan," but she doesn't say anything. Jasmine opens her mouth, but then she closes it again. Lannister and Devrell's eyes happen to meet each other, and they both shrug, erupting in laughter. I look to Zeus.

He grunts. "Survival skills."

Whew. I'm not the only one. "Sounds good," I say.

Jasmine nods. Lannister shrugs. I don't need to look at Devrell to know that he already stopped paying attention because he doesn't really care what our plan is. I smile. Consensus is good.

"I was thinking about doing weapons," Alia says. I nearly glare at her here and now for breaking the near-unanimous agreement, but I restrain myself. No need to cause unnecessary tension. "Show off a bit, you know?"

"To whom?" Jasmine says. "The others?"

"Nah. They're scared enough as is. For the cameras." She looks around at the rest of us, who just stare back at her. "Okay, then. Survival skills it is. Scatter for the morning and then break for lunch?"

"Wait," Lannister says, "Are we recruiting anyone? Jasmine and I were thinking about Barrett."

Alia cocks her head. "Who?"

"The District Ten Male," he says. It's interesting that he called him by name. It's much easier to dispatch the competition if you distance yourself. "And maybe Anetha, from Eleven."

She ponders it for a moment. "District Eleven looks like all bark and no bite, but District Ten is definitely a huge threat."

I look over to the guy. He's huge. Lannister is the tallest one out of the six of us, but even he is shorter than the District Ten guy by a few inches. "Does someone want to invite him in today?"

"I'll do it," Alia says, "Maybe at the end of the day after we see his strength in action."

The rest of us nod. Gosh, this is nerve-wracking. With this group, I'm almost afraid to speak for fear that I'll accidentally rock the boat—I can't tell where everyone stands.

"Then it's all settled, right?" I say, "We'll split up and learn survival skills in the morning, and then we'll meet for lunch? And Alia will get the District Ten Male."

"Yeah," Lannister says, "Sounds like a plan."

Zeus immediately turns and walks off to the edible plants station. Jasmine and Lannister wander off together—something's up with those two. Devrell runs over to the ropes course. Alia gives the sickle station a longing look, but she sticks to the agreed-upon plan and squats over at the traps. She's the only one I was worried about—out of the six of us, she's the most likely to go rogue.

I bite my lip. I had prepared myself to deal with a fiery group of competitors with contrasting opinions, but I hadn't seen this one coming.

With everyone's cards held close to their chest, I'll need to be more careful than ever.

Dove Yee, 16, District Twelve

I crush one of the berries at the edible plants station, and it bursts in red and purple, much like the hair of my escort.

Oh, how I hate her. Her stupid gloved hands reached into that stupid bowl and pulled out one of my stupid slips. I wish I stabbed her; I've had multiple chances. Or pushed her off the train. Or hit her over the head with a candlestick. She tried to write my death sentence, so I'll have to write hers.

But I technically still have a chance at living right now, and I'd be signing my death warrant by killing her.

Fine then, Philodendra. You get to live another year. But if I come home as Victor… You'd better watch your back.

I'm jolted back to the real world when I see the muscular District Two Male sit down here, barely six feet away from me. What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be spearing dummies or something?

I shudder. If I run into him in that arena, I'm almost definitely a goner, even if he's alone. That brings me back to my goal here in training—find a couple allies that can make up for my weaknesses. Coming from District Twelve, I don't bring a lot to the table. That means I have to take the initiative to rally people around me.

Though the guy seems to be minding his own business, I can't help but glance over my shoulder every so often to make sure he isn't up to anything, even as I slide into a seat beside the District Nine girl, who's sorting cards with plant pictures into three piles.

"Hello," I say, "Are you familiar with these plants?"

She glances up. "Oh! Hi! And naw, I barely have any idea what I'm doing, dontcha know?"

"So I guess that says something about the arena."

"Definitely not based off anywhere near where I'm from," she says, "How 'bout you?"

I brush through the "safe" pile of cards, but the only one I recognize is a pinecone. "We have these in Twelve, but it's a different kind of pine."

"Same for Nine. I'm just kinda guessing right now, and I'll check it after I go through it once." She pauses her intense guessing and looks up with a grin. "I'm Orysa, by the way. I forgot to introduce myself just now; I didn't mean to be rude."

I smile, though my face is so used to this posture that I'm not sure how much of it is genuine and how much is facade. "I'm Dove. Don't worry; you didn't come across as rude."

"So whatcha here for?" she says, "It's nice talking to you and all, but I'm sure you didn't just stop by to say hi."

"I'm just looking for friends," I say, "Trustworthy friends."

She raises an eyebrow, lips curled into a smile. "So you think I'm trustworthy?"

"You seem like an honest, down-to-earth person. What do you say?"

"It's a bit early for me to decide," she says, "It's nothing against you, I promise. I'm just not fully ready to commit yet, dontcha know?"

"Is that a no?"

"Naw," she says, laughing a bit, "I'd tell you no if I didn't want to ally with you. For now, let's just say that if we meet up in the arena, we'll team up."

"Then I'll see you around," I say, slightly seething from the rejection. "I hope we meet up."

I can understand, though. I'm District Twelve. People don't even expect me to get out of the Bloodbath. But this apparent insult is coming from someone without any obligations to me, so I can't get too mad at her. Better upfront now than keep it hidden after we enter into an alliance.

I look around the room. If that interaction taught me anything, it's that I'll have to find someone that isn't clearly stronger than me. That severely limits my options, but I can work with that for me.

I hop over from the edible plants to the neighboring poisons station, where the District Three girl is pouring over a book. "Hello. You seem pretty well-versed in plants."

She looks up, eyes wide open, much like the way deer react when startled. "Oh—hello."

It takes me a moment of her staring for me to realize that she probably didn't register the question I asked. "So… you're good with plants? How does that work, coming from District Three?"

She smiles a little, staring at the ground. "I work with medicinal herbs with my Daddy."

"That's impressive! I'm Dove, by the way."

"I'm Integra…" Her voice trails off, and she just stares at me. I severely doubt she'd be any help in combat—unless the opponent was the flighty girl from Six—but her knowledge of medicines and poisons could come in handy. Even if she doesn't make it through the Bloodbath, I could use her knowledge as a selling point for making a stronger ally.

"Are you looking for friends?" I say.

"Friends? That's… a bit of a strong word, don't you think?" Even as she states the truth of our reality, her eyes are sad, pained as she utters the words.

I shrug. "I don't want some strong guy that'll knife me in the back, so I think 'friends' fits a little better."

"Sure," she says, "I'm… glad you think this way."

"Great! And me too—I'm glad you feel this way too."

Trustworthy allies. Sure, I might be just asking her for her skills, but I'd never turn on her.

She'd better not turn on me either. No one wants to see the aftermath of that.

Achan Combrush, 17, District Twelve

I examine the knots of the sample makeshift hammock here at the knots station. Though hammock making might not be the difference between life and death, it seems like it might be a useful skill to have. Getting enough rest at night will ensure that I'll have the energy to make it through the day.

"Hey," someone says behind me, "What's up?" Another one of the guys sits down beside me, but I can't exactly place which district he's from. I was half-asleep when we watched the Reaping recaps, so I only remember the Careers and the pairs from Ten and Eleven.

"Not much," I say, "Just wondering how comfortable this would be. How 'bout you?"

He shrugs. "I'm trying to get to know some people. I'm Reuben, by the way. District Six"

"Achan," I say, "District Twelve."

He looks the hammock over. "Seems comfortable enough."

"You think so?" I glance over at the bored trainer, who sits in the corner, staring at a glowing device in her hand. "They won't mind, will they?"

"You want to find out?"

I glance over again, and then I climb on gingerly—there's no telling how sturdy this handmade one is. Though the large gaps between the ropes causes the ropes to press a little hard against my skin, it sure beats a hard floor. I push off the ground lightly, swinging back and forth. "Not bad, not bad," I say. "It's nothing here in the Capitol, but I'm sure it'll be nicer than anything in the Arena."

"Cool…" He glances over to the knives station, where a timid-looking girl, who is right beside the thirteen-year-old kid, stares back at him. Reuben smiles and mouths something at her, giving her a thumbs up.

"Is that your District Partner?"

"Yeah," he says, "Her name's Evelyn. She just needs some encouragement sometimes, y'know?"

I don't know, but I guess it works fine for them. "My District Partner and I don't really talk."

"It's fine, man. You guys don't seem to have it anywhere as bad at the Elevens." He gestures to the pair, who are at the same station but sit six feet apart from each other, looking up ever so often to glare at each other.

"You'd almost expect them to kill each other first…" I shudder. Even while I'm speaking, I notice him glance back over to his District Partner, and his face darkens slightly. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh— Of course, I'm sorry. I was listening. If you'll excuse me… I think she needs a bit of help."

Before I can get any other word in, he stands up. There's a pitter patter of feet as Evelyn rushes over, grabbing his arm.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he says, patting her on the back. "What happened?"

Though they're only a couple feet away, Evelyn's voice is barely audible. "He… snapped at me. He said I was annoying."

"I'm sorry."

"I can't do this—"

That's it for me—this is their problem, and I can't afford to spend my time caring about other people's problems. My own problems are exhausting enough, at any rate. I kick at the ground again, and I swing up, back and forth, back and forth.

My eyes begin to droop. Perhaps a nap would be in order. I know I'm not supposed to sleep in training, but I didn't get enough sleep last night—I couldn't fall asleep after the shock of nearly being burnt alive, and the time difference between the Capitol and District Twelve made me wake up super early. It's not like I'd be able to focus on anything right now, anyway. A nap would help me focus—it's completely appropriate.

Even if I don't get a full nap, I could just close my eyes for just a second. I was wrong earlier—even here in the Capitol, it's crazy comfortable. Just back and forth, back and forth… back and forth…

My body hits the hard ground and my eyes fly open, just as the air gets knocked out of my lungs. I look up to find a guy standing over me.

"Oh— I'm so sorry!" he says, "Are you okay?"

I push myself off the ground and brush myself off. "What happened?"

He smiles sheepishly. "I… um… saw you sleeping, and so I naturally wondered if I could wake you up by swinging you faster and faster. The hammock clearly wasn't designed for swinging…" He gestures to the now half-broken hammock, with several knots undone and the rope hanging free.

I rub the sore spot on my shoulder where I hit the ground. "It's all good…" I squint at his face. Is he…? "You're… from Four?"

"You recognize me?" he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm Devrell, from Four."

I purse my lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Well… they said to split up and learn some survival skills, so I thought I'd learn how to make traps. Then I heard your snoring, and one thing led to another…"

I simply stare back at him. District Four? Doing survival stations? In the background, I spy the District Two guy with the plants. That's… strange. I shift my focus back to Devrell, who has a goofy grin. He's taking this surprisingly lightly, considering how he might be the very one to cut me down at the Cornucopia.

He puts his hands up, backing away. "I'm sorry about the hammock, okay? I'll mind my own business and leave you to whatever you do."

I look back at the broken hammock. That's a pity; it was a solid hammock. Somehow, I don't feel any more energized after that nap—maybe Devrell woke me up in the worst part of a sleep cycle. Frickin' Career. Here to slaughter me, and he won't give me the benefit of a good nap. It's a pity I don't have any more time left today to try again; I've actually got to learn something useful.

Surviving is so much work.

A/N Yay! I got this out tonight! Hopefully I can knock out a second one before tomorrow night, but we'll see. I get really annoyed when SYOTs make it seem like everyone that talks becomes allies—people talk for other reasons too, y'know? We'll see a huge range of interactions over the next… seven training chapters, I think.

We hit 100 reviews! Thanks y'all!

While writing this, I noticed that we have a pretty mellow crowd. What do y'all think? Of the D6s? Of the D12s? Of the weird Star Alliance vibes?

Thoughts?