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Chapter 13- Astrid Clearwater
"Dominicus Sorce."
The short boy from 2 gets up, says a quiet wisecrack to his comrades, then leaves the room, just like the tributes from 1 did before him. Soon it will be my turn.
"Corinna should have sent your mentor the formal paperwork last night," Elowyn says quietly. "Did you get it?"
"Yes." I take a bite of the chicken they've served for lunch, but I hardly taste it.
"Then it's settled. We're formal allies," Elowyn says.
"We are." Tentative allies to be sure, but allies nevertheless. Elowyn won me over during the past day and a half; she's turned out to be funny, as well as being capable and smart.
"Are you going do what we practiced in your session?" she says low. I shake my head.
"I don't want the others to know," I say.
She nods. "Understandable."
"I have an idea what you're going to do," I say, taking another bite. She's from 7, which means she's excellent with an axe. She's been giving me pointers on how to throw one better, and I've learned more from her than from the instructors.
"I'll bet you do. What score are you aiming for?"
"As high as I'm able to get. District 3 has a reputation I'm trying to shake," I say.
"And your partner?" she asks, indicating toward Circuit who's blinking as usual and tapping his fingers on the table in the corner.
"We're from 3, that's all my connection is to him," I say. "He's not going to last long, I don't think." I take another bite, this time actually tasting the spiciness of the dish. "What about you and your district partner?"
Elowyn rolls her eyes. "He can use an axe alright, but he's weak and always has been. He's supposed to work in the woods like the rest of us, but you'll usually find him with a book instead."
"Bookworms technically don't do well in the Games, do they?" I say. Elowyn shakes her head.
"It's like you District 3 tributes; smarts only get you so far; you need to be able to do some damage." She looks at me closely. "You're not like the rest of them, or like any District 3 tribute I've seen on television. You look like you come from 2 or 5 or something."
Or from the Capitol itself, I think. Plenty people here have red hair. Could my father have been from here? I don't dare tell Elowyn that my father could be a Peacekeeper. There's no way to know without my mother here, anyway. Only she knows the truth, and she's never told me.
I shrug. "Some people have red hair in 3, but it's a rare thing. I'm just a stand out I guess."
"You're the only one here with your color hair; you'll stand out for sure," Elowyn says.
We mull that over for a few minutes, eating the remainders of our lunches. I do like these lemon tarts.
"Agrippina Crass."
The short girl with short black hair from 2 gets up and strides out of the room without a word to her allies. She looks determined, her hands clenched into fists at her side. She's small, but she'll put up as good a fight as any of the bigger tributes. I know, I've been watching her. She never misses when she throws.
She threatened me yesterday, telling me she'll rip my throat out as soon as we reach the arena. I hate her, and her group of Career idiots. At least they're not shouting at me today. Of course, most of them are missing right now.
Now it's just the pair from 4 who are sitting together; the boy is the picture of confidence, leaning back in his chair. The girl, however, is almost green with anxiety; she chews her nails with one hand while she drums the table with the other. Not a typical Career tribute at all.
Elowyn notices me watching the girl. "She wasn't a volunteer, you know," she says quietly.
"I know." But her not being a volunteer is odd in itself; for my whole life the tributes from 4 have been volunteers. This terrified girl is the first who doesn't want to be here.
"I'm going to go get more tarts; there's still some on the plate," Elowyn says, pushing her tray forward and standing up. I take the time that she's gone to look around at the remaining tributes.
The two troublemakers, the boy from 6 and the girl from 11, are pelting each other with pieces of fruit. Idiots, both of them. Then there's Tilling from 9, who looks to be as nervous as the District 4 girl. I feel pity for them; neither is going to come out of the arena alive.
It occurs to me for the first time that these tributes, these people that I've sat in the same room for lunch with, are the people that I'm going to have to kill. It creates a pit in my stomach knowing that I'm going to kill at least one of the children around me. Who will die at my hand?
They're all going to have to die if I'm to come out alive. And I will. Mama needs me, and Axel needs me. I need them. But how am I going to kill these people?
"Here, I brought you two," Elowyn says, sitting down and handing me two lemon tarts.
"Thanks." I smile at her, but all the while I'm thinking about how she's going to have to die too. Poor, pretty Elowyn.
"Are you alright?" she asks, taking a bite of tart.
"Just nervous," I say. I can't tell her I'm thinking about her death.
"I've seen you throw; you'll be fine."
"I know. I just don't like the idea of being alone with the Gamemakers."
"Understandable."
"Circuit Wallcry."
As I turn my head to look, Circuit's standing up, fidgeting and blinking even more than usual. I'd wish him luck, but there's no amount of luck that I can give him that will help him in there.
"You're next then," Elowyn says. I nod.
"I'm next." I push the last of the first tart into my mouth; I have a limited time to eat and I don't want to let this food go to waste. "You said earlier that you have to work in the woods?"
"Everyone does, from the age of six up. The jobs you get depend on how old you are, though," Elowyn says.
"Like what? I've never seen anything but District 3, and that's a city," I say. A decrepit city, but a city nevertheless. Supposedly, we were one of the richest districts before the Dark Days, but now we're hardly better than the lower districts, like 11 or 12.
"7's on the edge of endless forests," Elowyn says, her face growing animated. "It's beautiful. My father is a carpenter, and my mother too, so often enough I get brought into the woods by them to choose trees for their next projects. My parents are some of the very best carpenters in 7, too; everything they make gets sent to the Capitol."
Her face falls, and tears appear at the corners of her eyes. "I was supposed to start helping them with the business this year. I've been carving since I was small, but I was getting good enough to help."
I'm not sure what to say to her, so I stay silent while she collects herself. It feels odd talking to another girl; I never have before, not like this. I have nobody to call a friend at home. How ironic that the first friend I make I'll probably have to kill.
Elowyn brushes the tears away and smiles at me. "Don't mind me, I'm a sentimental. That's what my mother always tells me."
"That's alright." My heart rate has started to pick up; any time now my name could be called. Absentmindedly, I run my fingers through the end of my braid, through the coarse red hair that shouldn't be from District 3. I lied to Elowyn about some other people having red hair at home.
I'm the only one.
"You'll be fine," she says, still smiling. I would love to know how many sponsors she has already; I would also love to know how many sponsors I have already. Beetee is tight lipped on that that topic, and Delia won't give anything away either. But pretty Elowyn, who's wearing her long blonde hair in two pigtails today, will be pulling the most sponsors, I can guarantee.
"The Capitol loves its pretty things," Mama told me once while we watched the electronics District 3 made being packed away on the trains. Oh Mama, I miss you!
"Astrid Clearwater."
As I stand, Elowyn grabs my hand. "Good luck in there. I'll see you at the interviews." Once a tribute goes through that door, they don't come back. And tomorrow I'll be stuck in the apartment. So the interview night it is.
"Yes. Good luck to you too," I say, managing a smile. How I would like to be friends with this girl; true friends, not just allies. But I can't, not where I'm going.
I feel the other tributes' eyes on me as I go out the door; each person waiting for their own turn. The hallway is deserted when I get out to it; my footsteps slow as I walk toward the door of the gymnasium. It was open earlier when we were training, but now it's closed; just a metal wall that could hold anything behind it.
Every step I take echoes off the walls as I reach the door, grab the handle, and pull. The gymnasium is deserted, but up on a stage to the right, the Gamemakers appear to be having a party. I'm lucky that I'm from District 3; I can tell that they'll be drunk by the time District 6 rolls around, and good luck to the rest of the districts.
Taking a deep breath, I step in front of the stage. "Astrid Clearwater, District 3," I say. The man wearing the purple uniform of the Head Gamemaker makes a shooing motion with his hand. I'll take that to mean that I'm allowed to do what I like now. The session has begun.
I go straight to the axe throwing station, with its targets and dummies waiting to be hit. The axes are lined up on a rack nearby; their blades shine in the artificial light, and their handles are smooth and silky; I take one in each hand and weigh them, seeing where their centers lie. Behind me, the Gamemakers are laughing at some joke, but they're still sober enough to watch me. I'm going to show them that I'm a true contender in these Games.
They're expecting the usual weak and helpless District 3 tribute. I'm going to prove them wrong.
Breathe in, breathe out. Remembering the techniques that Elowyn showed me, I throw the axe from my right hand; it sails through the air and hits the target just above the red center. The left quickly follows, landing just below the first. Dead center.
There're no rules about having to stay within your station now that there're no other tributes, are there? That fool District 11 girl almost killed the boy from 2 earlier today with an arrow; I wonder what would have happened if she had succeeded. But now there's no District 2 boy to hit, so I may roam the gymnasium as I please.
Grabbing another two axes, I choose my new target; a tree over in the wooded section of the gymnasium. I throw as hard as I can; each axe meets wood, a good twenty feet or so away. Another two axes hit a dummy in the center of the room, taking off its head and wounding it in the torso; and yet another two land side by side in the center of a target.
I'm better than I thought I was. I stop for a second, marveling at what I'm capable of doing. Take that, District 3! I'm better than you ever thought I would be.
I glance over to where the Gamemakers are sitting; several are still drinking and chatting, but the majority of them have their full attention on me. There's one last axe on the rack; I'm going to make this one count.
I turn and throw the axe with all the strength I have at the target. As it leaves my hand, I know that I've over rotated it; it hits the target without sticking and clatters to the ground. My grand finale was a failure.
"Thank you, Miss Clearwater," one of the Gamemakers says behind me. Let me try again! I'm better than that! You saw me, I'm better than that! That's what I'd like to say to them.
But I don't. Instead, I thank them and walk out of the gymnasium, letting the door swing shut behind me.
I'm furious inside; my last chance to impress the Gamemakers and I failed. I failed. Forget about the rest; their last memory of me is that I failed to stick the last shot. That I'm just another useless District 3 tribute who will go out in the Bloodbath.
What is my score going to be?
Shore Seawind
"Stop biting your nails; your prep team is going to have a fit," I tell Kelpie, who has gone pale with worry. "You'll be fine; you don't have anything to worry about."
"We always get high scores; what if I'm going to be the dunce of the Games? Everyone will know I'm not supposed to be here!" she says tearfully.
"You won't be, so stop worrying!"
The girl from 3 has just gone back, which means I'm next. I'm glad she's gone; I hate the way she looks at us. Aggie keeps talking about how she wants to sort the girl out, and if she doesn't quit the staring act, I'm not going to stand in Aggie's way.
"Listen to me," I say, grabbing Kelpie's arm. "It's fifteen minutes tops. Who cares what score you get; plenty of tributes go low to fly under the radar." None of them have been from District 4, but I don't mention that.
"Glass cares, and so do I," Kelpie says, pulling her arm away from me. "And I want to show that Aria Combstar that I'm better than she ever could be."
"That's the spirit," I say, leaning back and grinning. The girl's finally getting some fire. "Don't care about Glass, but show up Aria. And show Panem what Kelpie Agan is made of. Make them believe you were so good on the stage that nobody even wanted to take your place, because there was nobody better. Think that way and you'll get an eleven."
Kelpie manages a smile, then goes back to chewing her nails. I sigh and look away from her. What is Thalassa doing right now? Does she know that I'm going to have my private session today? I want to talk to her so badly. I miss her.
I know what Da would say; "Shore, you're going to give the best you've got, and you can't ask for anything better than that." I've got to make Da proud today. I've got to make everyone proud today; District 4's hopes and dreams are pinned on me.
"How well do you think she'll do?" I ask Kelpie.
"Who?"
"The District 3 girl."
"I don't know. But I wish Aggie wouldn't go after her," she says.
"Better the girl than you," I remind Kelpie. Her face, already white, pales even further.
"Oh don't pass out, you know I'm right. Keep on Aggie's good side and you won't have a problem."
Kelpie pauses, then nods. She's scared stiff of our allies, but it's better to be in the alliance than out of it.
Mags told me this morning to work with the tridents in my private session. "You're a fisherman, that's what you're best at, isn't it?" she said with a smile.
"That and knots," I told her.
"The Gamemakers don't give high scores for knots, I'm afraid. But if you have time, throw one in." Then she patted my head and pushed me off towards the elevators. I know she's got high hopes for me, and in a strange way, I'd feel worse about letting Mags down than my family. There's just something about her that makes me want to make her proud of me.
A peal of laughter comes from a few tables over, where the boy from 6 and the girl from 11 are sitting. She almost took off Dominicus' head this morning with an arrow; Cloak almost pummeled her afterwards. We're all pretty eager to get our hands on the two of them after that. I have no doubt that it was them who shot Tiara with a nut, too. They can fool around now, but they won't be laughing once the gong goes.
"Shore Seawind." The robotic sounding woman comes over the intercom; I jump a little. Kelpie looks up at me, terrified.
"You'll be fine; I'll see you after," I say, getting up. Every tribute in the place is watching me. You're looking at the future victor of the 41st Hunger Games, I think.
The hallway is creepily quiet, so I walk to the doors of the gymnasium as quickly as I can. I run my hands through my hair, tug on my shirt a little, then pull the doors open and step inside.
The Gamemakers are all standing on a sort of platform or stage, drinking and having a generally good time. Some of them smile when they see me; District 4 is a liked district, way more than districts like 6 or 11. And nobody cares about 12.
"Shore Seawind," I say proudly. Every syllable of my name says District 4, and I'm happy about it.
"Go on then," the Head Gamemaker says, waving me off. He's smiling too, though, so I don't think much of his dismissal.
The first thing I notice is that there are axes stuck into various surfaces; someone must have thrown them before my session. With her throwing skills, I'd peg it on Aggie. She's the only one I can think of who can throw like that. Of course, I didn't watch many of the others during training, but it certainly wasn't the two from District 3. Hollow cheeks, weak and skinny- they couldn't hold an axe to save their lives.
The tridents look like they were made for me; metallic and shining, their prongs newly sharpened. A natural extension of myself. I glance over at the Gamemakers; every single one of them is watching me. Perhaps they will lapse into drunkenness later, but I am from a favored district. They can afford to miss District 9; they can't afford to miss me.
I pick up one gleaming trident, choose a target- and throw. It lodges in the very center, exactly where I wanted it to go. The next two tridents I throw go through the abdomens of practice dummies, both fifteen feet or so away from me.
The fourth trident I pick up and twirl around like a baton. The Gamemakers want a show; I'll give them a show. Shore Seawind doesn't get rushed, ever. While their eyes are riveted to me, I throw the trident; it sails through the air and lands dead center on a target over on the opposite wall.
Any fisherman in District 4 can throw a trident, but I have better aim than most. That's partly why I was voted in to be the volunteer. I don't like to boast, but I am a better shot than a lot of people back home. And I'm stronger too.
There's one last trident on the rack; silver and shiny, almost looking freshly polished. I look around for a suitable target. Settling on a tree halfway across the room, I bounce on my toes for a second, then run, getting momentum- and throw.
The trident hits the tree and sticks with a satisfying sound. The Gamemakers still haven't dismissed me, but I'm out of tridents.
I'll do a knot.
Quickly, before I run out of time, I grab some rope from the knot tying station; I feel the Gamemakers' eyes on the back of my head. How much time do I have left? As fast as I can, I tie the most complicated knot I can come up with right now; a fiador knot.
Once finished, I hold the loops and knots up to be judged by the Gamemakers. The Head Gamemaker, a man in a purple tunic, nods. "You may be dismissed."
I bow, drop the knot on the table, and walk out.
Getting on the elevator, I press the button for 4 and shoot upwards into the light. Kelpie will be going in now; I wish her luck. The elevator stops abruptly and the doors open, revealing the apartment where I've been living for the past days.
"Shore, you're back," Mags says, coming into the room as I step out of the elevator. "How did you do?"
"I think I did well," I say, smiling. "I think I did really well."
"You threw your tridents, I hope," she says.
"Tridents, and I tied a fiador knot to top it off."
Mags pats my shoulder. "That's a lad. Now we wait for the girl and we see how you do, won't we?"
"What did you do in your private sessions?" I ask, suddenly curious.
"We didn't have those back then," Mags says. "Or training. The Games were a lot different in my day."
"What would you have shown them, then?"
Mags grins. "Fish hooks. It's how I won my Games, you know, boy."
Before I can answer, Glass comes around the corner. "How is my tribute doing? Did she break down again like at breakfast?"
Glass is bad tempered and not the best person to be mentoring Kelpie if you ask me. There's no way I'll tell her about Kelpie's terror at lunch. "She's fine. The others know what she can do now, and there's no problems with her being in the alliance."
"Good." Glass folds her arms and scowls at me. "And how about you? How did you do?"
"He did marvelously," Mags says, wrapping me in a one-armed hug. "Now, go get Riptide from his room and I'll order some tea, so that when Kelpie comes in, we can have a nice little party right here."
While we wait, Avoxes set the table with delicate china; the kind Ma has always wanted to own but could never afford. When I win, I'll use some of the money I'll get to buy her everything she could ever want. Sweets for the girls, and toys as well; new fishing equipment for Da and a new keel for the Jewel.
And a home for Thalassa and me.
Just as the tea is being poured, Kelpie comes in. I'm glad to see she has more color in her face than she did earlier.
"Kelpie, we were waiting for you," Mags says, beckoning Kelpie to the table. "Come and join our tea party and tell us about your adventures below."
Kelpie sits down and Mags pours her a cup of tea. "I think I did okay!" she says, a smile lighting up her face. "I threw knives, like you said, Glass, and most of them hit the target, and close to the center too! I did the edible plants matching test as well, and got a perfect score on it, and then the Gamemakers told me I could go."
Glass opens her mouth to say something, but Mags cuts her off. "Well done, Kelpie. Well done."
"Yes. It sounds like you did alright," Glass says, albeit begrudgingly. Riptide taps the table in a funny rhythm. Glass turns to him and snaps, "Will you stop that?"
"Let the boy be, Glass," Mags says. Glass looks at Mags angrily, but she doesn't dare say anything back to Mags.
Mags raises her tea cup and says, "To the District 4 tributes of the 41st Hunger Games!"
We echo, "To the District 4 tributes!"
As I taste my tea, I think it might be the best I've ever had.
Iry Coppersmith
I hold my head high, like Terra told me to do, as the boy from 7 goes out the door. He's shorter than me, but he's a year older. I feel a bit sorry for him, because he looked so scared when he left.
"You're quick; you're so quick," Terra told me this morning, gripping my shoulders.
"I know I'm quick!"
"Run the obstacle course, and do it as fast as you can. You'll be just fine. They already know you because you're my sister, and that gives you an edge. But really show off for them, because they're bound to be drunk when you get in there."
"Why are they going to be drunk? Shouldn't they be watching the tributes?" I asked.
"They don't really care about the tributes past the Career districts. So that's why you have to really impress them today, so you can get a good middle score. Can you do that?"
"Of course I can," I said. "You know me; I'll get a good score."
"Don't go crazy and aim for a ten or something," Terra said, smiling.
"I won't. And you'll be here when I get back?"
Terra's face fell, and she shook her head. "No, munchkin, I'm going to have to be at another party. I need to get you sponsors, and besides, as a mentor it's required I go."
"I wish you weren't a mentor."
"I wish you weren't a tribute, but here we are. I'm going to have to go to this party if I'm going to keep you safe in the arena. You'll be fine; Woven's staying behind today because Shuttle and I are taking Woof with us."
"What about Postumius?"
Terra laughed. "We'll take the orange menace with us, don't worry. But you'll be fine, munchkin."
"Don't call me that anymore; I'm almost as tall as you!" I said.
"I'll think of another name. You should head down to Training now; be good and do your best, and don't make any allies. I love you."
With a kiss on the head, Terra sent me down the elevator with Azlon, who's currently across the room watching the clock with a blank expression on his face.
I ran the obstacle course once today, beating my previous time down to three minutes, and I did really well on the edible plants and berries. The morning went really well until the boy from 6, Trestle, dropped a nut down the back of my shirt. I don't really like him, or his ally, Nell from 11. I'm pretty sure they were the ones shooting at everyone this morning with nuts. Plus, Nell almost shot Dominicus from 2 in the head with an arrow. That was exciting, though, especially when Titus had to step in and stop her and Cloak from fighting.
The remains of my lunch sit in front of me; I ate it all, except for a few pieces of fruit that I didn't like. They're green cubes, and I don't know what they are, but they were too bitter for me to eat. I loved everything else, though. Living in Victor's Village means we get fruit a lot more often than the rest of the district, but it's never stuff as exotic as this. We usually spread it around to Deecey's family too; don't want to be selfish.
"Elowyn Applering."
The really pretty girl from 7 gets up and walks out the door, just like all the other tributes have done before her. My hands are shaking a little because I'm nervous; after Azlon it's going to be me. But Terra said I'm going to be fine, so I'm choosing to believe her.
I can't believe I'm sitting here as a tribute. I remember when Terra was taken away, five years ago, and I didn't really understand why she left. I was only eight at the time. And when she came back, she was different, outside and in. For one thing, she had new legs and her fingers were missing. But she cried a lot easier and had those awful flashbacks.
And we moved from our old little house into our new big house, and I still didn't understand why. It wasn't until I was eleven when I really understood what happened. It was the first year Terra let me watch the whole Hunger Games, and only because I begged to see what was happening. I understood after I watched Tilly Dunwater get killed. We went to school together; she was only a few years older than me.
Terra doesn't talk about her Games, but they affect her every day, I know. And now I'm here, the same place she was a few years ago, about to replicate her journey. Am I going to be different when I come out? What if I lose my legs or my fingers? It's so scary to think about.
I'll be okay, though. Terra keeps telling me I will be, and I'm just going to have to believe her.
I'm so nervous; in maybe a half hour I'll be going in to see the Gamemakers. Looking around, I can tell that most of the others are nervous too. The pretty and anxious girl from 9 is biting her nails; both of the District 10s are drumming their fingers on the table. Nell from 11 doesn't look too worried, though. Maybe she's just covering it up.
Celosia from 12 is sitting across the room, looking straight ahead with an angry expression on her face. I'm trying to keep my face blank and my head held high; I don't want anyone to think I'm a target. I'm thirteen, but they shouldn't count me out yet. But they also shouldn't notice me too much. Terra keeps telling me that I need to be directly in the middle, so that the sponsors will notice me, but the others won't.
"Azlon Loombow."
Like a quiet giant, Azlon gets up and leaves the room. Me next. I would have liked to maybe ally with him, but he doesn't even pay any attention to me. I guess eighteen year olds don't usually ally with thirteen year olds.
The hands on the clock tick tick around and around. Lunch was over a long time ago; I've been sitting here for well over three hours now. I wish they'd put out more food, but the tables are sadly empty. I feel sorry for Fissure and Celosia; they'll be here latest of anyone.
I wonder if Terra will be home by the time I get back; I didn't realize I'd be here so late. The minutes tick away; Azlon's been gone almost twenty minutes now. My legs won't stop shaking, I'm that nervous.
"Iry Coppersmith."
Finally! I jump up onto my shaky legs and walk as fast as I can out the door. I go to brush my hair back, but it's in braids and neat already. Just keep walking.
The door to the gymnasium is heavy metal; it's always been open before now, but it's shut today. I have to brace my feet into the ground and pull on the handle to get it open. I wonder how the girl from 2 opened it earlier; she's so much shorter than me.
But I get the door open; a gust of air comes out just as the door opens, blowing in my face. Stepping carefully inside the gymnasium, I shut the door behind me and walk towards the stage where the Gamemakers are standing.
Like Terra told me they would be, they're drunk and singing a song. I think it's really rude of them to do that. They should be paying attention to us, since that's why they're here, isn't it?
"Iry Coppersmith," I say, my voice wavering a little. I take a deep breath and finish with, "From District 8."
The man who's wearing the purple tunic barely even glances at me. I wait a second more, seeing if he's going to say something for me, but he's more interested in pouring himself another glass of wine. So I turn away from them and go straight for the obstacle course.
It's the same as when I did it earlier, so why do I feel nervous about completing it now? The Gamemakers aren't even looking at me. Taking a deep breath, I hit the button which starts the timer, jump up on the platform- and go.
Over the balance beam, across the hanging rings; go, go, go! I cross the net, which seems to have lost the first day's trickiness, though it spins around again, trying to throw me off. I jump off and run across the small islands, onto the hanging ropes that burn my palms. Breathe, Iry!
I almost fall off of the standing sticks again, but nobody laughs this time; I jump off of them too, run across the beam with the swinging balls, and stop, panting, before the spinning wheels. My hands hurt from the climbing and the holding onto the ropes. I can't give up now, I can't! When I look over at the Gamemakers, one or two of them are watching me.
Leaping towards the spinning wheels, I almost miss, but I catch them just in time. Again I feel the wonderful flying feeling as I spin around and land safely on the other side. Last two obstacles and I'm done!
My legs shake as I run across the angled steps, then I use my momentum to get up the wall. I almost slip here too, but I catch myself at the last minute. I did it! I did it! And my time says two minutes!
I stand up, grinning from ear to ear. My hands are bright pink and raw in places, but I don't care. Terra's going to be so proud of me, and so is everyone else. I'm proud of me. A few Gamemakers are looking at me still, but most of them are paying more attention to a roast turkey an Avox just brought out and set on the table in front of them.
At least a few people saw me.
Nobody seems to want to dismiss me, so I hop down off the wall and head over to the edible plants station. The test is waiting for me, and I want to show the Gamemakers how much I know. I've spent a lot of time here over the past few days.
I easily sort mint, blueberries, and thimbleberries into the edible section, but I hesitate when I reach a particular root. One is wild carrot and the other is hemlock. They both look so similar! I'm starting to panic about how much time I have left when I remember that the stems of hemlock are smooth, while wild carrots have little hairs. I put the roots I believe are carrots into the edible section, and get it right.
I sort the last few plants just as the Gamemakers remember I'm here. "You may be dismissed," the Head Gamemaker says, shooing me away. I nod to them respectfully, like Terra told me to do, and walk out the door.
Woven's waiting for me once I get back into the apartment. Azlon's nowhere to be seen. Maybe he's already in his room. "Hello Iry," she says, giving me a hug. She's like my auntie, and I love Woven a lot. She doesn't hug everybody, but she hugs me, and that makes me happy.
"Hello Woven," I say, pulling away and smiling.
"So, how did you do?" she asks, petting my braids.
"I think I did really well! I did the obstacle course in two minutes, and passed the edible plants test!"
"Well done, dear," Woven says, hugging me again. "The others are still out, and won't be back until probably 7:30. You'll be wanting some supper after all that."
"I had to sit down in the dining hall for over three hours! And they didn't have food or anything out, so we all just had to stare at the walls. I feel really bad for the others who have to wait longer than me!"
Woven leads me into the dining room, where food is already being set out. I'm surprised to see Damius already seated. "Hello Iry," he says with a smile. I'm happy that Janus isn't here too; I don't like him very much.
"Hi!" I pull the chair next to him back and sit down; Damius helps push it forward again. Just as Woven sits down, Azlon comes in and takes the seat across from me.
"Help yourselves," Woven says, gesturing to the food on the table. There's a salad with orange pieces of fruit sprinkled in it; a pink frothy soup dotted with raspberries; and a sort of pasta dish that has green sauce on it. I take some of everything, and I love it all.
I wonder how everyone else is doing, and if they're still waiting in the gymnasium for their own private sessions. I hope I did well!
Nell Slatefield
It's after 8 at night, and I'm hungry and tired, and I still haven't gone in for my private session. Lotem went back a few minutes ago, so I know I'm next, but I've had enough of sitting down here. Everyone else has gotten to go back and eat supper; just because I'm from 11 I get to sit in the dining hall that has no food in it.
I'm furious, and getting very impatient. There must be a better way of doing the private sessions than making us starve for hours on end.
There're only two other tributes in here with me; the pair from District 12. The boy looks terrified, but the girl, Celosia, looks angry. She looks like she'd stab one of us right now if it was allowed. She's going to go last of anyone. I don't really blame her for being angry.
My legs hurt from sitting still for so long; I haven't moved from my seat since I sat down for lunch. How long ago was that? Lunch was over at 2, and it's after 8 now- six hours? I've been sitting here for six hours? No wonder I'm tired. I had entertainment for awhile, though, at least until Trestle left. He juggled with some fruit, and then we had a small fruit fight. That was fun. But he's been gone for hours now; so, boredom. I'm not used to being bored.
I've gotten to do a lot of thinking about back home, though, so it hasn't been all bad. I'm missing Auntie and Uncle, and even Rosa; plus our little home in the Roots. It's occurred to me that if I win, we'll all have to move out into a house in the Fruit. I'm not sure how I feel about that, really. I like our little Roots house. I'm a Roots girl through and through, you know, and it would feel odd to leave it. Maybe I don't have to move; I can stay right where I've always lived. Victors can do that, can't they?
"Eleanor Slatefield."
Finally, it's me! I jump up and run out the door before Celosia and the boy can even watch me go. My legs have gone to sleep after sitting so long, so I shake them out before I open the door to the gymnasium. Have to be in the best shape to perform. The sooner this is over with, the sooner I get to go eat something upstairs. I got over my nerves well over two hours ago; I'm just ready for this to be over.
As it turns out, so are the Gamemakers. When I walk in, they're standing arm in arm, singing at the top of their lungs. Drunk out of their minds. It would be really funny if it wasn't so irritating. I stand in front of them and plant my fists on my hips.
"Nell Slatefield, District 11!" I say loudly. They ignore me and keep on singing. It's some sort of song about a bee, a fish, and a jewel; we sing a lot in District 11 but I don't know that song. Fine, they can be that way. I'm going to slingshot some stuff and see if they notice.
The first thing I shoot is one of the lights; glass smashes onto the ground, sending shards everywhere; the light goes out, of course, but none of them even look over. They're terrible singers; it grates on the ears.
"And the bear he stole the jewel,
The jewel, the jewel, the jewel,
And the bee went after the jewel,
The jewel, the jewel, the jewel."
It's really not the most imaginative song; I could sing them a hundred others that make more sense. The Gamemakers still don't want to pay attention, so I load my slingshot again.
I choose a target close to me and shoot a marble at it; the slingshot giving the little ball so much power it dents the center of the target. With another marble in hand, I climb up one of the ropes leading to the net, hang on with my feet, and turn upside down, shooting a spear out of its rack. It clatters on the ground. What is it going to take for them to notice me?
I'm not one to be ignored, you know. I've had enough; jumping down from the ropes, I march back over to the stage. "Hey!" I shout at them. "Why don't you pay attention for once? That's why you're here, isn't it? So do your job!"
I feel a bit like a pouting toddler, but the Gamemakers stop singing almost immediately. The man in the Head Gamemaker uniform turns to look at me; his expression makes me shiver inside, but I won't back down. I talked with President Snow; I can talk to this man.
"Excuse me?" he says.
"I'm going to give you a show, so I think you should pay attention," I tell him.
He pauses, looking at me up and down. "Then give us a show," he says.
I turn and walk away from him; with a marble and slingshot in hand, I do a one-handed cartwheel, land upright, and shoot a pot of paint off of the camouflage station. I hear a few laughs behind me; they're not impressed, they're amused! They think I'm very funny, but I'm not trying to be funny right now.
Dropping the slingshot on the ground, I head straight for the bows and arrows. I'm not the best with them, not by a long shot, but I did almost take off the Career boy's head this morning, so that has to count for something.
I whip an arrow out of its quiver, nock it onto the bow, and aim directly at the Gamemakers.
"What are you doing?" the Head Gamemaker yells, his face turning blotchy purple and white. He should relax; I'm not going to kill him. Instead, I aim up and knock out the light right in front of the stage; glass comes down again and splinters all over the floor. Good luck cleaning that up, I think.
Nocking another arrow, I shoot and hit the wall on the opposite side of the gymnasium. These arrows really do go far, don't they?
"Excuse me, Miss Slatefield!" the Head Gamemaker yells. "You are dismissed!"
I shoot one last arrow into one last light. I guess being angry makes me aim better; glass falls down again; the floor is a danger zone now. Placing the bow back on the rack, I curtsy the best I can in leggings.
"Thank you, sirs and madams, for your attention," I say, holding my head high. They want a show; I will give them a show. But they're going to have to pay attention for it. On the way out the door, I can't help but throw in another dig at them.
"By the way," I call from the doorway. "Your singing could use some work; you sound terrible!"
With that, I slam the door and head for the elevators.