Training — Day 3, Part 1

Reuben Koled, 17, District Six

History must be cyclical because Evelyn and I are sitting across from each other in the living room again. The swirling rainbow clock tick, tick, ticks down the minutes until we have to go down for the final day of training, but while the ticks would've been just a nice beat to me a week ago, they now send a cold shiver down my spine. Two days have passed, and we don't have much to show for it.

"We are so doomed," Evelyn says, holding her head in her hands. As if she needed to convince herself, she repeats it. "We are so doomed."

I bite my lip. I'd tell her that everything will be fine, but everything will clearly not be fine. If we run into any sort of stronger tribute, we'll both be wiped out. "You're not wrong…"

"That's reassuring," she deadpans. I grin at her, but her eyes spring open in fear. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to snap at you!"

"It's all good," I say, laughing, "There's no use in being depressed to the grave, yeah?"

Tick, tick, tick.

Time is running out. It won't be long until our escort's obnoxious trill fills the air, and we need a different plan. Somehow, Evelyn keeps running into the worst possible people—first it was the snippy kid from Nine, and then it was the deadly girl from One. If that weren't a clear enough sign, then one look at my shaking district partner is all it takes to convince me that something has to change. Maybe…

"Hey," I say. "Let's stick together today."

Her eyes instantly brighten. "Really?"

"Of course. Splitting up clearly doesn't work."

She lets out a massive sigh of relief as a million-ton burden falls off her shoulders—and it's just in time because our ears are now ringing with "Trrrrrributes!"

The escort gives Evelyn a weird look as the elevator descends. "You seem… happier today!"

Evelyn shrugs. "I… guess?"

It's ridiculous. If anything, our situation is no better than it was for the past two days. We still don't have anyone that could help us in the physical department. Our escort is still annoying. Time is almost up. Nevertheless, the change in atmosphere is palpable, and he smiles. "That's good! I'm glad you're finally enjoying the magnificent Capitol!"

I groan. Could he possibly have said anything worse? I don't think so.

Today, the Head Trainer leaves us to start training without much instruction—we know the drill. Private Sessions begin after lunch, so we only get a half day. That means we'd better hurry up.

"This doesn't look good," Evelyn says as we huddle in the corner, watching the room, "That boy from Five… which tributes does he have?"

"The Elevens, I'm sure—he hangs around them most of the time."

"And the Sevens… Eights… girl from Nine?" she says, able to think much clearer now that she's not panicking over the prospects of talking to a stranger.

The boy from Five—Hass, was it?—pauses for a moment with the allied boy from Eight and girl from Nine. "Sounds about right. He nabbed them right before the day ended."

She shudders. "This entire thing bothers me."

I nod. That's why we rejected him when he invited us yesterday. This entire deal with an anti-Star alliance seems far too shady. "Honestly," I say, "I won't be surprised if he grabs supplies and ditches everyone else at the Cornucopia."

"Do you actually think he'd do that?"

"Maybe," I say, "He's obviously not in this to help others. If he gets everyone else to take down his biggest threats, his odds go up." Now I shudder. I don't care how good his plan sounds; I'm not risking my neck at the bloodbath to help some sweet-talking kid from Five. I'd do it for Evelyn, but there's no way I'd do it for Hass.

"Do we need an ally?" she says, "What if he stabs us in the back?"

"It's possible," I say, "But it'll be two on one. It should be safe." I rub my forehead. "We can ditch him if he gets suspicious."

She takes a deep breath. "Fine."

"So our options are… The boys from Three and Twelve and the girl from Five."

"I'm not going near the boy from Three," she says, "He scares me." He's crouched over at the traps right now, and everything about him screams suspicion.

"Definitely. The girl from Five seems nice, but I'm not sure if adding her will make a difference."

"That leaves the boy from Twelve?"

I frown. The Twelve boy? The lazy kid that took a nap on day one? "I don't know about this guy…"

"He looks like he's been working," she says, nodding towards the knives station, where a trainer is correcting his posture.

"Old habits die hard, you know?"

She shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah… but if he goes back to being lazy and gets himself killed, then we won't have to kill him."

"Huh," I say, raising an eyebrow. That's awfully bold of her.

"Oh—no, no! I didn't mean it like that," she says, trying to backpedal. "It's just— just— just—"

"You're right," I say, wringing my hands, "It's true. I don't know how I'll rack up the strength to kill anyone that's not actively trying to kill me."

"So… do we go?"

I give her an encouraging smile. "Just because I'm going with you doesn't mean I'm going to do all the talking."

Her entire body seizes up. "You mean— you want me to talk?"

"I'll be there to bail you out if anything goes wrong."

She gulps in a huge breath. "O-Okay. I'll do my best."

"Lead the way," I say. She stares at him as he's slashing a dummy, and then she looks back to me, her face pale. I smile. "You got this."

With a nervous gulp of air, she takes a few nervous steps towards the knives, her pace picking up slightly as we approach. She pauses once we're close, but I pat her on the back to remind her that she's not in this alone. She bites her lip and goes in.

"H-Hello," she says. Immediately, fear zips across her face as she notices her stuttering voice, but she presses her trembling lips together into a firm, determined line.

Keep it up!

Achan turns towards us, panting from the physical exertion. "Hey! It's y'all."

"N-Nice knife skills."

"You think so?" He shrugs. "It's a lot of work."

She freezes up, and so I give her an encouraging nudge. After a slightly awkward pause, though her shoulders remain stiff, she remembers how to put words together. "Oh—we tried knives the other day, but we need more practice. Would you… like to train with us?"

She did it! She got the words out! I'd pat her on the back and cheer, but that'd probably scare away Achan. He's confused enough as is—he turns to me with a slightly puzzled look. I raise my eyebrows, smile, and nod.

"…Sure," he says, "Why not?"

Evelyn lets out a huge breath, expelling the pent-up nerves and terror as a relieved expression spreads across her face. I whisper a "Good job" and step up to the trainer. Now we're talkin'!

Dove Yee, 16, District Twelve

Something's wrong; I can feel it in my gut. Integra's kind smile is gone today. Ever since I found her on the first day of training, she's had this calmness about her, but today, it's been replaced with a silent tension. Her performance is suffering—she's struggling to remember the information we rehearsed as we review the edible plants from the days before.

I hold up another card and show her the picture on the front. "C'mon. You've got to get this one right."

She furrows her brow. "Is it… a maple tree? You eat the seeds, right?"

I sigh. "No—it's Poplar, and you eat the inner bark, not the seeds."

"I just can't get anything right, can I?"

"We'll keep trying…" I hesitate, but I ask anyway. I can't keep going like this. "Is there something wrong?"

She bites her lip and breathes deeply. "Look… I need to tell you something."

I raise an eyebrow and lower the flashcard. "What?"

"Please promise you won't hate me or get mad?"

"Sure," I say, though it's more to keep her talking than because I'm actually promising to stay calm. What's the worst this kind girl could do? Give up on the training sessions and get a 1? "What's wrong?"

She takes another breath and pushes her chair back. "I… have to break our alliance."

My heart stops beating and I feel my cheeks burn. Angry words fill my head—We were supposed to be friends! How could you do this to me? I hope you die—but I force a smile. Gotta keep the traitor talking, right? "Why?"

"The Elevens offered me an alliance. They wouldn't let me bring you too." She wrings her hands. "I know I sound like a jerk right now, but what was I supposed to do?"

Stick with me like you agreed to, maybe? I glance briefly at the Elevens in the distance. Oh, they're gonna pay… "I understand," I choke out.

A faint smile returns to her lips as tears shimmer from the corner of her eyes. "Thank you for understanding. These are the Hunger Games, right? I enjoyed these days with you… but everything is ultimately about survival…"

You're definitely not gonna survive after this. I sigh. "Fine. Get out and join your new allies."

"Dove—"

"Go!" I snap, "You made your decision. Don't rub it in my face."

A tear spills out of her eye—serves her right—as she stumbles to her feet and walks away. I spy her pausing to look back at me, but I stare at the flashcard in my hand. I'm not giving her the satisfaction or closure of goodbye.

'Cause this isn't goodbye. I'll find her, and she will go down with her new friends; I'll make it happen. But to do that, I'll need support, and I don't have many options for support right now. I'll take anyone I can get for now.

Speaking of anyone, the quiet girl from Five has climbed up to the top of the rock climbing wall, where she sits, watching the rest of the tributes. With only a bit of trouble, I clamber up after her. The moment I peek my head over the edge, she freezes up, staring at me.

"Hey!" I smile. "I'm Dove, from District Twelve. What's your name?"

"I'm Marleigh," she says, continuing to stare awkwardly, "District Five."

"Have you found any friends yet?"

"…Friends?"

"Yeah," I say, "I thought I found one, but then she abandoned me. So now I'm looking for trustworthy friends."

"Friends…" she repeats, "That sounds nice." I can see the cogs turning in her head, but what could they be spinning about? She just seems… confused.

"What do you say?"

"Let's do it." She smiles a bit, but she seems nervous. With most people, I'd immediately suspect an ulterior motive or secret, but she doesn't look capable of it.

"Great!" I say, "Tell me about yourself."

"Me? I don't know if there's anything to say about me." Her voice is still soft, but the more I hear it, the more soothing it gets. There's just something… real about it. "If you wanted strength, then you should've asked Hass."

I frown. "Hass?"

"My district partner," she corrects, blushing slightly, "He has better odds than me."

I squint at his skinny figure, struggling with the weights. "I'm not sure about that."

"But he has a lot of allies," she says, "He's trying to make a large alliance to counter the Star Alliance."

"Star Alliance?"

"One, Two, and Four."

Star Alliance. That's a pretty name. Much prettier than the way we call them "Careers" in Twelve. But he has allies? I take a second look—the Elevens are nearby, and the boy is laughing at Hass. And if the Elevens are there…

Something's going on, and I don't like it.

"Did he recruit the Elevens?" I say.

"Yeah. They were the first ones, and then he got the Sevens, and the girl from Eight, and then—"

"And the Elevens recruited the girl from Three?"

"Integra? Oh no—that was Hass as well. He just told the Elevens to do it because the Elevens are stronger."

Congratulations, District Eleven. You're off my hit list. But Hass…

She gasps. "Wait—you were Integra's ally, right?" She covers her mouth. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said anything—"

I give her another smile, and it's real this time. "No, thank you. You've cleared some things up for me."

She sighs. "…You're welcome, I guess."

I look back down to where the Eleven boy is teasing Hass. Integra's there, standing uncomfortably behind them. I almost feel bad for her, manipulated by the brat from Five.

I'm not letting you off the hook, Integra. Just be glad you're not Hass.

Oh, he's gonna get it.

Integra Simms, 18, District Three

Dove is watching me from the top of the rock climbing wall, and though I'm trying to not think about her, I still feel her eyes boring into me. Does she hate me? I thought she took it fairly well at first, but then she snapped at me.

She must feel betrayed.

And I betrayed her. I wipe at my eyes again. It's too late to go back; I have to move forward.

That's enough moping, Integra. Focus on your new allies.

My new allies. Naaman is relentlessly getting on Hass about his "spindle arms," and though I want to believe that it's nothing but harmless teasing, his words have a biting undertone that scares me.

I miss Dove. She was calm, smart, and optimistic, nothing like this rough group around me. I'm not even sure what I got myself into. These three are clearly allied, but there are also many others loosely tied in some sort of a coalition? None of this makes sense.

"You doin' alright?" Anetha says, pausing beside me. Now that Naaman's busy elsewhere, her dark eyes are calm and soft.

"I… think so," I say. "Are they always like that?"

She sighs. "Naaman's never up to any good. Just lookin' at him is enough to get me mad sometimes. Hass isn't much better. He's kinda like a puppy, I guess. He smiles at you and follows you around."

"R-Really?" A shiver runs down my spine. What kind of an alliance is this, anyway? There's no mutual trust in sight.

"Ha! You should see your eyes," she says, laughing, "You're lookin' terrified!"

"I'm… a little bit terrified."

She puts an arm around me. I resist lightly—I barely know her—but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Both ways, she pulls me in uncomfortably close. "You seem like a good girl, you know? You don't deserve to be roped into this mess."

I squirm. Everything about this entire thing is uncomfortable. "Mess?"

"Lemme tell you—it's a hoot!" She lets go, much to my relief, and she lowers her voice. "I shouldn't be saying this, but Imma tell you 'cuz I like you."

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure Hass is gonna ditch us at the Bloodbath and let us cut each other down."

My eyes widen. "Us?"

"Yeah. The Star Alliance. The rest of our coalition."

None of this makes any sense. "Could you just tell me what's going on?"

She gives me a weird look before shaking her head. "Poor girl," she sighs, "You really don't know what you're in, do ya?"

I shake my head. "I'm lost."

"Hass has been grabbin' a whole lot of people. Says he's gonna create a coalition to take down the Star Alliance."

"Who's in?"

"Us. The Sevens and Eights. Girl from Nine. Nine in total. Point is, we're supposed to fight the trained kids and take them out first, and then we'll all split up on an even playing field."

"That's not a bad idea." But considering what she said before… "So you think Hass is going to ditch us?"

"I'm sure. He's too sleezy," she spits. "I'd wrangle him here and now, but the coalition could be useful."

"Useful?"

"You're too nice for this world, you know? It'll be easier to grab supplies if the others are stalling out the Star Alliance."

I cringe, but it turns to dread as the words process in my head. "So… you're also gonna ditch?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe I'll get rid of Naaman in the process and call it an accident. I'm tellin' you; this entire thing is a mess."

I never should've accepted the request—if I were only still with Dove! I glance at the rock climbing wall, but she's glaring in my direction. There's no going back. My only thought is that I need a way out. There's no way I'll make it alone; Anetha seems nice enough. "If things fall apart—"

She snorts. "They're gonna fall apart."

"When they fall apart… can I go with you?"

She looks me up and down with pity in her eyes. For once, she seems speechless.

"Please," I say, "If you get rid of Naaman, won't you want some company? I promise I won't stab you in the back."

She sighs. "Integra… I believe you. You won't stab me in the back 'cuz you're a good person." She takes a deep breath and averts her eyes. "But these are the Hunger Games. Good people don't win."

A wave of dread washes over me. "So… no?"

"I'm sorry," she says, looking up with sad eyes. "I can't. I'll have to be a bad person to win, and I don't want you around for that."

"There's got to be a better way."

"Let me know if you find it, 'cuz a lot of the competition has already accepted it." She laughs bitterly. "Heck—I'm sure Naaman decided that he was okay with being a bad person before he got Reaped."

Naaman makes a snarky comment, and Anetha marches over to deal with him. Hass watches the two fight with a strange calmness. She's right. There's no way he's being honest with us. This is my new alliance, and I hate it.

If only I had stuck with Dove…

Orysa Edrei, 16, District Nine

Final Day. Or rather, final half day. Many of the tributes are using weapons today, trying to hone their skills ever so slightly before the private sessions come in hopes of obtaining a higher training score.

That's where you should be right now.

But no—Baize insisted that we do survival today. Even now, he's scowling at the Two girl and Four boy, who've been loudly chatting and laughing as they mess around with various weapons.

"So," I say, smirking, "Are you actually going to review first aid? Or did you just come here to glare at them?"

"It's not fair."

"And you're making it worse by wasting your time being mad about it."

He huffs and slams his fist down on the table. "Everything's just not right!"

"So let's make it right. Go over and get some weapon practice so we'll get more sponsors."

"It doesn't matter what we get, though," he says, "Let's say we both do really well and get sixes. Those kids have spent their entire life training—they'll get nines and tens and maybe even an eleven. Who's the sponsor gonna choose?"

I groan. Remind me—why did I offer him an alliance? He's a realist, I'll give him that much, but I don't need to be reminded of the problems every five minutes. "The sponsor's gonna choose them if all you do is complain about it! Complaining never did anyone a lick of good, and that ain't gonna change for you in the Hunger Games."

"It's still not right."

"But they're pampered. They don't know real suffering, that it's gonna hurt them in the Arena." I smile. "If we work hard enough, we can beat them."

He sighs. "Does it bother you? The injustice of it all?"

My honest reality is that injustice isn't a productive thing to think about, and so it takes a moment to put together an answer. "I think so," I say, "Literally everything about the Hunger Games bothers me."

"Doesn't it make you hate the Capitol?"

That's right; this is why I offered him an alliance. He's no-nonsense and free-tongued when it comes to what he thinks. It's coming to bite me now, though. "Yeah?"

He snorts. "No—I mean really hate the Capitol. Like hate them enough to take them down."

I frown. "Maybe… but it's just not realistic. I'm not gonna waste my time fantasizing when I need to train right now."

"You don't really hate them yet," he says coolly, "You haven't let it really hit you how disgusting everything is."

"But what am I supposed to do? 'Oh my gosh the Capitol is disgusting' isn't gonna help me win."

He shrugs. "I dunno. I don't know if we can do anything." As anger flushes his face red, he squeezes a pack of anti-infection cream so hard that some of it bursts out. "But I'm gonna remember anyway. No matter what, I want to remember that they're the ones responsible. They're the real enemy."

I bite my lip. These sentiments are distractions. I don't mind so much that they're risky—people should be able to say whatever they want—but they're not practical. A thud rings across the room as the boy from Two successfully nails another spear throw. Weapons are practical, and that's what I should be working on.

"So?" he says when I don't respond. "What do you think?"

"I think that… I'm done with this conversation," I say, standing up and grabbing his arm. "I'm going to work on combat skills, and you're coming with me."

"Come on…" He tries to shake my grip, but I only tighten it. "This is so unnecessary."

I grin. He might be a bit older, but I've got more muscle from hard work on the farm. "You can't shake me off. Let's go!"

"We'll get there later…"

I smirk. "Maybe you're just scared. Almost everyone else has had a go with the weapons—are you afraid of looking stupid?"

"Aren't you afraid of looking stupid?"

"Pah!" I spit, "Let them talk. If one of us is gonna win this, then both of us need to be on top of our combat game."

He groans, but he gets up anyway. "Fine."

"Good." I drag him over to the knife station, where even the timid girl from Six is learning how to properly grip one in combat. "Now you be a good little boy and play with knives, okay?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy," I say, drawing out the words in an exaggerated drawl.

"You realize that I'm two years older, right?"

"Still a good boy," I tease. "I'll be with the flails if you need me for anything."

Once I grab my flail off the rack, I glance over at the knives station again. He's going at it with the help of a trainer—good for him. Though he said he was terrified of looking stupid, he seems to be doing a fine job for a first try.

I swing the flail forward, but my strength isn't behind it. It hits the dummy hard, but not hard enough.

Gotta work harder, Orysa.

I swing the flail again and then again, but Baize's words won't leave my head; my thoughts replay it over and over.

"They're the real enemy."

I shouldn't be thinking like this. It's not practical. Hating the Capitol won't help me win. If anything, it's an obstacle. If they discover that I hate them, the Gamemakers will turn on me and I'll lose any sponsors I had.

But the words ring true in my gut.

The dummy's on the ground now, its fabric innards strewn all over the padded floor. The trainer yells at me, but I block him out and swing… swing… swing…

They're the real enemy.

A/N Stuff is happening! I don't waste POVs just for the sake of getting fair POVs, just saying. We've got… one more training chapter, one interview prep day chapter, one interview chapter, and one morning of chapter! The Games are approaching… I've gotten attached to my kids. :(

(Optional but Fun) Question: Which character would you want as an ally? As a sibling (older or younger—you choose)? As a friend?

Barrett is hands-down my pick for ally (I love this boy so much). For sibling… I would go Orysa, but I think we'd fight. Maybe Evelyn/Integra? And there are so many I'd want as a friend! Lannister, Devrell, Cleo, Hass (writing buddy!), Marleigh, Reuben, Viyella, Orysa, Barrett… but I'll go with Cedric. I appreciate having someone who's brutally honest.

Thoughts?