Chapter 12- Eleanor 'Nell' Slatefield
"I'm not going to bother to tell you what to do in your private sessions," Seeder says over a cup of coffee. "I doubt you would listen to me anyway."
"You're probably right," I say, biting into my piece of toast that's been slathered with cinnamon sugar. I can't get over the food here; everything is so good. And so much! Sugar is outrageously expensive in District 11; Auntie buys a small sack of it maybe once a month, once every two months, and rations it.
But here, I can eat all the sugar I want to, and I will.
"Just, both of you, go out and do your best. Try to get higher than a four, alright?" Seeder says.
"You just watch; I'll get a twelve," I say through a mouthful of toast.
"Chew, Nell. And if you get a twelve, you'll make history. Don't get too high a score and put a target on your back."
I stuff the last of the toast in my mouth, chew, and swallow, brushing the crumbs off my shirt. Taizy looks over at me with her mouth half open. She's still horrified over the fact that I haven't worn shoes the whole time I've been in the Capitol. I don't see the point of wearing them when I've gone barefoot my whole life.
"I'm going down. Trestle's going to be expecting me," I say, pushing my chair backwards and standing up. Lotem stands up too. He doesn't talk a lot, but seems nice enough. I don't know; I don't talk to him much.
"Good luck," Seeder says. "And we'll see you tonight."
The journey down the elevator is short but quiet. As we reach the bottom, Lotem looks at me and says, "Are you nervous?"
"Heck no!" I say, and the doors open. Like the first day, the other tributes are standing in a circle around Titus, who seems to be waiting for everyone to get there. Unlike the first day, though, nobody is standing in their district order; instead, the others are arranged by alliance. There's the Careers, the girls from 3 and 7, the girl from 5 and the boy from 12, and Trestle, who is waving to me.
"Finally!" he says, throwing his arm around my neck.
"Get off me," I say, pushing him so he falls into the girl next to him; the eighteen-year-old from his district. Mariana, I guess her name is.
"Aw, don't be that way, Nell. You know you love me," Trestle says, pushing me slightly back. He's become an ally and a friend; someone who isn't afraid to make trouble. The past few days have been fantastic, and I don't care what the others think of me. I want to make some trouble too.
The last two tributes arrive; Byron and Brierre from 10. Whenever I see them, I think about their ridiculous Chariot costumes. Their cow and cowboy getup was even worse than my half-missing outfit.
"Welcome tributes to the third day of training," Titus says, bringing our attention forward. "You will have the morning to train, until the lunch bell rings. After lunch, you will be called to the gymnasium one by one for your private sessions, where you will perform whatever skills you like to the Gamemakers. Please state your name and district when you enter. Are there any questions?"
Trestle puts his hand up almost immediately. "What if I don't want to go in when I'm called?" he says with a smirk.
"Then you will receive no score and your sponsorship opportunities will plummet. I highly recommend you take part in the private sessions. Anyone else?"
Everyone else stays silent, so Titus says, "You are free to go."
The rest of the tributes scatter, but Trestle and I stay put, looking at each other. "So, where are we headed today?" he asks.
"Let's go weave some hammocks; it's easy," I say.
"You want easy today?" Trestle says, feigning shock. "On the day that will define our lives?"
"Yeah, let's go." I start walking away towards the deserted hammock station. Trestle jogs after me.
"I want to go on the obstacle course again today and beat my time," he says.
"You can, but I'm not going to. I want to try the ropes. Besides, Celosia is already there." The girl from 12 is attacking the obstacle course with a ferocity I didn't know she had.
"Are you going to weave some hammocks?" a pleasant voice says; I look down to see a woman trainer sitting on the ground in the dirt floor section of the gymnasium.
"Yup!" I say, sitting down beside her. Trestle reluctantly comes to sit down next to me. The instructor hands us some rope and gives us instructions, then leaves us to it.
While I tie knots, Trestle argues with the ends of the rope, trying to make it look like the instructor's.
"Why don't you wear shoes?" he asks suddenly.
"Never owned any."
"What about in winter?"
"We don't get cold down in District 11," I say. "It's usually hot down there, and if it does get chilly, then you tie rags around your feet and deal with it."
"So nobody wears shoes in District 11?" Trestle asks, disbelievingly.
"Roots girls like me don't, that's for sure. The girls from town wear them, 'cause they can afford them. I don't like shoes; they trip you up. And you need a good grip on the trees when you're harvesting."
I look up at my ally, who's still fiddling with the rope. "How about you? You don't talk much about your life in 6."
"Not much to tell," he says.
"Who's your family?"
"Don't got any."
"Then who's watching you at home?"
Trestle laughs. "The Peacekeepers that were coming after me the day of the reaping. You should have seen their faces when I got picked. Lucky break for me, wasn't it?"
"What did you do?" I ask.
"I stole something, and they didn't like it." Trestle shrugs. "They wouldn't have been able to catch me anyways. I'm too quick for them." He drops the rope and flexes his muscles. "I've been dodging the 'keepers since I was a kid. They've never once been able to catch me. They call me the Weasel sometimes, 'cause I've slipped by the 'keepers so many times."
"Who's they?" I ask, tying another row of knots.
"The gang I run with. I'm not going to say their names; that's the rule you know. You don't tell who's in the gang, or you'll wake up with a knife in your eye. I've seen it happen," he says nonchalantly.
"So I've made allies with a gang member," I say.
"Hey, you made the best choice," Trestle says, holding his arms out. "You can't get a better ally than me, Nell! Look at me, I'm a prime specimen."
"Sure you are," I say, laughing. "Here, the hammocks' half done. You want to keep going?"
"Absolutely not. I'm bored out of my mind," Trestle says, jumping up and shoving the ropes off his lap at the same time. "12 girl's running the course again; let's go run around above everyone and throw stuff at them."
Trestle runs ahead of me, dropping by the edible plants and berries station and scooping up a handful of nuts.
"You can't just take those!" the instructor calls after him, shaking her head as he sprints away. The girl from 9, Tilling, watches Trestle and then me go by with wide eyes. She tried to team up with us on the first day, but Trestle shot her down pretty fast. Looks like everyone else did too.
I sprint after Trestle and catch up to him at the base of one of the hanging ropes that lead up to the net above. "Where are you going to put those?" I ask, pointing to the nuts he's holding in one hand.
"I have pockets, don't you?" he says, shoving the three-cornered nuts into a hidden pocket of his pants.
"No, I didn't wear pants with pockets today."
"I'll carry them then. Race you to the top!" Trestle says, starting up his rope. I grab another nearby rope, with knots in regular intervals. Climbing trees all my life has given me an edge, so I make it to the top before Trestle. It's a close one, though; he's quick too.
"Where'd you learn to climb like that?" I ask, pulling myself up through a hole in the netting.
"Shimmying up buildings and the like," he says, pulling himself up next to me. "The streets aren't safe for the Weasel, you know."
"What's it like in District 6? You never hear anything about other districts," I say, looking down below us at the other tributes going about their business, not even realizing we're up here. I know so little about my own district, even. It's the Capitol and their Peacekeepers; they want to keep us in the dark about each other so the Dark Days will never pop up again.
"The 'keepers are everywhere; and they'll whip a person for no reason sometimes, just for fun. They've been trying to nab me for years but they're just too slow," Trestle says proudly. "Kill a few people a month just to remind us that they can. They nabbed a kid from my gang last year and shot him."
"They do that sometimes in 11 too," I say. "Only not so much killing because they need us all to harvest the crops. They'll throw you in the stocks too if you don't work hard enough."
"Who are we going to pelt first?" Trestle says, dropping his voice and changing the subject abruptly.
"Hope you have a good arm 'cause I can't throw well if the target's far away. I should grab a slingshot; I'm superb with one of those," I say.
"Already nabbed one when you weren't looking," Trestle says, handing me the wooden slingshot he brings out of almost nowhere. He grins at me.
"Give me a nut," I say, holding my hand out; Trestle drops one into my palm. "I'm going to get a Career. Which one?"
"The blonde one, the girl."
I load the slingshot, aim, and fire. Anyone in District 11 can shoot a slingshot; we bring down birds who are swarming the fields with them sometimes. Easy to make and easy to hide, plus the Peacekeepers don't count them as weapons as long as you don't shoot at them. I have a slingshot at home that Uncle made me a few years ago.
Rosa better not take it while I'm gone.
Right on target, the nut bounces off the girl's head. Trestle stifles a laugh as she whirls around, looking for her attacker. Of course, she can't see us up here in the net. "Who did that? I'll kill whoever did that!" she shrieks, holding her head.
I cover my mouth and try not to laugh as almost everyone freezes down below, watching the Career girl yell and look around. Nobody is holding a slingshot down there, making it all the more confusing for her.
"Get someone else," Trestle whispers, passing me another nut. I spy the weak boy from 12, sitting at the fish hooks station. I aim for him, and fire. Like the first one, this nut bounces off his head. Bewildered, he looks around, but doesn't shriek like the Career girl is doing.
The boy from 4 talks to the girl quietly, making her calm down and be quiet. She still looks angry, though.
"Shoot her again," Trestle says, snickering. I load and fire again, but the net moves under me slightly as Trestle shifts, throwing my aim off. This nut bounces off the Career girl's arm this time.
It takes her district partner and the boy from 4 to hold her back from going after the only person near the slingshot station; the twelve-year-old from 5. He looks terrified and scurries backwards, even though he's not the one shooting.
Trestle flops down on his back and shakes with silent laughter. "That was brilliant," he says between breaths. "I didn't know the girl had it in her. Turns out she's got some fire."
"Is that a good thing?" I ask, watching her get calmed down by her allies and a nearby instructor.
"Hey, if she's giving them a show, then the Weasel can get away and start his own show on the opposite side of the arena," he says, all grins. His shaggy black hair falls over his eyes and he brushes it away.
"I'm coming with you to put on the show, right?" I say.
"'Course. I need my co-star, don't I?" Trestle sits up. "We'll be the stars of the Games, you'll see Nell. They'll be falling over each other to sponsor us. Think about it; who's going to give them a better show; you and me or the pair from 10? Dull as dust. We've got a chance."
He opens his mouth to say more, but before he can, he moves just enough that the nuts fall out of his pocket and clatter onto the floor below. Trestle and I both freeze; if they didn't know we were up here before, they will now.
"Hey, who's up there?" some instructor calls. We sit perfectly still. We can see down but they can't see up, and after a few minutes, the attention fades and everyone goes back to what they were doing.
"What do you want to practice for today?" I ask Trestle.
"Sleeping," he says, lying back down and closing his eyes.
"I want to do more survival skills," I tell him.
"You're ace at edible plants," he says, eyes still closed. "You can light a fire forwards and backwards, and we can both make a decent shelter. I think you'll be fine."
"Then I want to try Camouflage," I say. "Do some more painting like yesterday."
Trestle cracks one eye open. "You did Camouflage yesterday, and you were shit at it, remember that? I don't think you're going to improve in an hour."
"Aren't you supposed to be my ally and boosting me up?" I say, folding my arms and feigning hurt.
"I'm going to keep you alive, Nell, not lie to you," he says, closing his eyes again. "What's something you haven't done yet?"
"Archery," I say immediately.
"So go try some shooting action and let me sleep. I want to be well rested when I go in and impress the Gamemakers with my good looks."
"What good looks?" I tease.
"I'll leave you to the Careers if you don't go shoot some arrows, Nell."
"Fine. I'll see you at lunch."
"Shoot straight."
I go down the rope hand over hand and drop down to the hard floor below. I'm happy to see that everyone else is too preoccupied with their own training to notice me going over to archery. When I look up, I can't even see Trestle; that's how good the camouflage of the net is.
I wasn't that bad at camouflage yesterday. Well, alright, maybe my tree bark I painted on my arm looked a bit shoddy and like tan lines, but that's beside the point.
The archery station starts a long way away from the wall with the targets. There's five or six simple bullseye targets set up, and some fabric dummies full of holes too. Near where I am, there's a rack of bows, and another rack of quivers full of arrows.
The forgettable girl from 5, Hazel, is a few feet away from me, shooting tentative arrows at a target; her straight brown hair keeps falling in her face as she shoots.
"Are you wanting to work here?" the instructor, a young woman with dark hair pulled back into a severe ponytail, says.
"Yeah."
"Let's get you set up, then," she says without smiling. Plucking a bow and a quiver off their racks, she hands the bow to me.
She shows me how to stand, how to hold the bow properly, and how to nock the arrow. My first shots go nowhere near the target. "It takes time," the instructor says. "The Capitol wasn't built in a day, you know." I wish it had been if it means I get to aim better, and faster. After a half hour or so, I'm still not aiming any better than when I started. My next arrow hits the wall above the target; just slightly above where I've been aiming. I groan, throwing my head back in frustration.
Hazel looks over at me nervously; her next shot flies up and hits the wall near the ceiling. "Nice going!" someone jeers behind us; one of the Careers, I think. I don't particularly care for the girl next to me, but I hate the Careers with a passion.
Whirling around, I nock an arrow and let it fly in the direction of the heckler. It's the boy from 2, standing a distance away; when he sees my arrow coming, he ducks; the rest of the Careers scatter. The arrow lodges in the wall behind them, on the farthest side from me. Honestly, I didn't know I had that sort of power in me.
"What the hell?" the boy yells, straightening up again, furious.
"The next time you laugh, I'll put an arrow through your eye!" I yell back at him, brandishing my now empty bow.
The big blond boy from 1 starts coming towards me, hands clenched into fists. The boy from 2 opens his mouth to shout at me again, but shuts it. Guess he thinks his ally will take care of me better than his jeers will. I don't move. I just stand there and look the District 1 boy right in the eye as he approaches.
"You're dead, you know that?" he says in an angrily calm voice, pointing at me. "As soon as that gong goes, you're dead."
"I doubt you can move fast enough to catch me."
A black shape drops down from the ceiling behind him as I keep staring the Career boy down. Every eye in the place is riveted to us. The tension between us is incredible; it's a silent standoff between me and a Career. I'm not sure who's going to make the first move.
"No fighting between tributes!" Titus shouts, coming over and in between the boy and me, breaking up the tension slightly.
"Cloak, let her go! She's not worth it!" the Career boy's district partner shouts; the girl I shot with nuts earlier today.
"That's it, break it up! And we don't shoot arrows outside the range, is that understood?" Titus says, loud enough for the whole gymnasium to hear.
"You're dead," Cloak says, pointing at me and backing up at the same time. Before I can respond, he trips backwards on something. In a blur, his pants are pulled down around his ankles; his attacker is up a rope before the Career can react.
The girl from 2 lets out a sharp peal of laughter; a couple of the lesser tributes are stifling their own laughter.
"Shouldn't mess with us," I say smugly. "It won't end well for you." Cloak pulls his pants up again; beet red and looking like an angry bull. "You're not going to catch me and kill me, Cloak." With that, I turn and take another arrow from the bewildered instructor and shoot again, this time hitting the top of the target.
"Cloak, get over here!" I look to see him pause, glaring at me for a second more, then he stomps away back to his group.
My own ally drops down from his rope perch and saunters over to me. "Looks like you're not shit at archery. My congratulations on that. Pity you didn't shoot him," he says, grinning. Titus gives the two of us a long, disapproving look, before going back to talk to another instructor.
"I couldn't have gotten away with that," I say, grinning myself. I nock another arrow and shoot again; this one strays far away from the target. "I like your style."
"Hey, the Weasel can do anything! You need a person gotten rid of, I'm your man! I can steal anything, slip in anywhere- I'm your classic jack of all trades!"
"Do that to a Gamemaker today and you'll get a twelve," I tell him.
"I just might have to," Trestle says, looking very pleased with himself. "Since you're not terrible at the arrows, let me show you what I can do with a knife."
"You showed me the first day."
"I didn't show you the whole shebang. You didn't think I would give away all my secrets right away, did you?" Trestle folds his arms. "I didn't know I could really trust you on Day one. Now it's you and me against the world, and I can show you what I can do. Let's go, Nell."
"Fine." I hand my bow back to the instructor, and that's when I see Hazel, frozen with a bow in her hand, looking at me. If I didn't know better, I would say her eyes are shining. I guess seeing the Careers brought down to human level would put the pep into anyone, wouldn't you say?
Trestle's at the throwing knives by the time I catch up to him; he moves fast. On the way over, I turn a cartwheel, earning a few more glares from the Careers across the room. I don't care; they'll never catch me. But what does my ally want to show me that he hasn't already? It's about a half hour to lunch, and then Training is going to be over.
"Just watch this," he says, grabbing a handful of black handled knives. In swift succession, he throws two at the same time, spins, throws another at a different target, another two at some dummies, then rolls and throws his last knife.
Every single blade finds either a bullseye or a dummy's heart. My mouth drops open. When he showed me his knife skills two days ago, it was mediocre at best. This- this is something else altogether.
"Where'd you learn to throw like that?" I ask. Trestle smirks and shrugs.
"When you're on the street, you have a lot of time on your hands. We like to throw knives at buildings to pass the time, you know. Comes in handy when you got to take out a rival." Trestle grabs another knife and throws it at the farthest target; it sticks directly in the center. "After a while, you get good."
"Well I know what you're doing for the Gamemakers," I say.
"What're you going to do? If you say hammock making, the alliance is officially over," Trestle says.
"I'll figure something out. Can you throw a knife into the handle of a previously thrown one?" I ask.
"Let's find out, shall we?" Trestle takes two knives, juggles them briefly, then throws one after another. The first sticks in the board, the second lodges in the handle of the first. "I can," he says, turning to me.
I've been watching the others cycle through the different stations, and the only person in this whole gymnasium that can hold a candle to Trestle's knife throwing is the girl from 2, Agrippina, and maybe her district partner. But Trestle's better than all of them.
"I'm impressed," I admit.
"I knew you would be," Trestle says, throwing an arm around my neck and leading me on a walk around the gym. "Take it all in, Nell, 'cause this is the second to last time you ever set foot in this place. Good riddance if you ask me."
What would Auntie think of him, or Rosa? They would be appalled. Excellent; it just makes me like Trestle more. We're going to cause the Capitol so much trouble, and I love it.
"Found one more," Trestle says, pulling out a nut and twirling it in his fingers. "Whoopsie!" He drops it down the neck of the small girl from 8, who glares at him as we go by. "Bloodbath bait," he mutters.
The bell rings for lunch; the Careers, in normal fashion, take off running for the dining hall. "Shall we join our dear friends?" Trestle asks.
"I think we should," I say. "Bring some nuts to lunch."
"I think she's packing them away," he says, pointing to the woman from the edible plants station, eyeing us warily.
"I'm hungry; let's just go to lunch," I say, taking Trestle's arm from around my neck. "Race you!"
Shoving past some of the other tributes, I do a cartwheel, turn upright again, and dash into the dining hall ahead of the rest.
What do we have for lunch today? Grabbing a tray, I pick up some chicken in a curry sauce, rice, some exotically colored fruit, and some little lemon tarts for dessert. The Capitol has outdone themselves today. I did like those meringues they had the other day; I wish they had more of those. Maybe I'll ask the machine in my room to give me some tonight.
I take a seat and wait for my ally. In the meantime, I watch the others file in and take their food; most of them so serious. So nervous about their tests coming up. Loosen up and cheer up a little!
Trestle joins me at our usual table just as I bite into the lemon tart.
"You are what you eat, I've heard," he says, sitting down.
"Shut up and eat these; they are SO good." I put the rest into my mouth and chew happily.
Trestle takes a chunk of chicken and turns it over and over on his fork. "I wonder who this chicken was."
"Does it matter?" I eat a bite of chicken next; the pieces are huge, and I love it. "Whoever it was tastes good."
"Is that how they'll remember me?" Trestle says, leaning forward and putting on a pondering expression. "When I'm dead, will they only think, 'he tasted good?'"
"Isn't eating fellow tributes against the rules?" I ask, taking another bite. The rice is rich and good too. My compliments to whoever makes this stuff.
"Nothing's against the rules in the Hunger Games," Trestle says. "Hell, if I had the proper tools and time, I could stuff every single tribute in this room and put them in my Victor's Village house."
"That's horrible."
He shrugs. "And also time consuming. I wouldn't stuff you, though."
"You could stuff me with this chicken; it's fantastic," I say.
"I'll keep that in mind for the arena," Trestle says. We don't talk much after that; the food is too delicious to talk over. I'm not sure how I'm going to go into the arena after eating like this for a week. I'll probably be fat by the time I get there, and I'm just fine with that.
"The Private Sessions are beginning," a robotic sounding woman says over the intercom. I look up, startled. "Cloak Greysong, please come to the gymnasium."
"That's begun," Trestle says, barely glancing up.
Cloak gets up and walks out the door, after being cheered on by his allies. Suddenly my chicken is hard to swallow; I have a long time to wait before my own session, but still.
"You'll be fine," Trestle says.
"I know."
So why am I nervous all of a sudden?