Chapter 37- Nell Slatefield
"Where are we even going?"
"How the hell should I know?" Trestle snaps at me at the same time he snaps a branch under his foot.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're leading the way?" Trestle's really getting on my nerves right now. He's been taking all the credit for us escaping, when it was me who used the slingshot, me who got down first, and me who actually got us out of the trees and out of Azlon's way!
Trestle whirls around on me with a dangerous look in his eyes. I don't know how to feel about him after what happened last night, with him and Azlon. He's still my ally, he's still on my side. But he's scaring me a little more now.
"Do you have any better ideas?" he demands, kicking some brush out of the way.
"Yeah, why did we leave the water anyway?" I ask. Dumb idea if you ask me. We looked all that time for water and just stumbled across it, and then we just ditched it right after. Brilliant idea! Not.
"The water was on a hill, Nell. Anyone could see us up there." Trestle stops talking to me like I'm six and laughs shortly instead. "See, my girl, we're the ambushers, not the ambushed."
"You told me before that it was better to be on a hill."
Trestle shrugs. "Times change, Nell. Last two times we were on a hill we got cats and tributes going after us, so hills aren't a go for a while. No, this time we're going the opposite way, and see who we get."
"So we're going after the others?"
"Only way to win this thing," Trestle says. I manage a grin, but I'm not too keen on the idea of killing some other tributes. He seems fine with it; he's killed the girl from 5 already, and probably Azlon too.
"Then let's keep going then," I say, and Trestle grins. Lucky him, he's not hurt that bad, except for that cat scratch he got the other night. Now me, on the other hand, that's a different story. I'm cut up all over, and for the first time in my life I'm actually missing my shoes.
See, shoes are awful but nice to have, I think, when you're walking across sticks and rocks and stuff like that, like in here; back home we don't have anything like that. I think the orchards in District 11 are superior to the strange trees in here- and I'll tell that to everyone who'll listen when I get home!
Plus, you'd think it'd be quiet in here, but it's not. There're lots of birds screeching and flapping around above my head, and something howls in the distance. Nothing like I'm used to back home. I wonder if I'll get used to it at all; I've only been in here for three days. Three days? That's it?
"Hey, Trestle," I say, jogging a little to keep pace with him. He's darn fast.
"What?"
"Bet you can't do a cartwheel."
Trestle rolls his eyes. "Cartwheels are a sissy move."
"What, can't do them?" I tease, poking him in the side. "Even if you could, you couldn't do it like me."
"Quit mouthing off and do the trick already," Trestle says, shoving me back, but it's good natured, not mean at all. Good, I've gotten my friend back. And as for the others, like Hazel and Azlon, I can forget about them for now. Everything's legal in here after all, isn't it? I'll worry about everyone else once I'm out of this place for good. Alive, of course.
"Hold the slingshot then," I say, pushing the weapon towards Trestle; he grabs it. "Watch this."
Trestle stops and folds his arms while I get into position. I take a running start at it, and turn two perfect cartwheels in a row, right here on the jungle floor. Take that! Bet there's never been another tribute who's done cartwheels in the arena.
"Superb," Trestle says sarcastically, clapping his hands together. "Absolutely marvelous."
"Don't be cheeky, I know where you come from. I bet you and your gang turn cartwheels together all the time."
"And braid our hair too," Trestle snorts. "That's right, Nell."
"Your bunch must be a boring lot. Just running from the Peacekeepers all the time? Must get old," I tell him, taking my slingshot back and bumping into him with my shoulder. "Whatcha going to do if you get back, anyway? Aren't they still going to be looking for you?"
Trestle grins. "That's the prime part. I'm going to be a victor, and they can't touch me, not one hair on my head. My boys'll call me the ultimate Weasel, 'cause this is the ultimate slipping past the 'keepers."
"Won't that be nice," I say. I forgot; if Trestle makes it home, it means I didn't. That's way too complicated right now, so I'm going to forget about that too until I really have to. Instead, I flip the subject around, because I'm good at that. "Who do you think rustled off this morning?"
"What, like a freight train?" Trestle says, kicking some more brush out of the way. "The Careers are stupid, but they're not that stupid. Everyone else's up for grabs. I don't really give a shit; they'll be dead soon anyway."
"So where are the Careers?"
"I also don't give a shit. As long as they're over where they are, and we're over where we are, we're not going to have a problem."
"So let's say we run into them. What then?"
"Will you quit with the questions, Nell?" Trestle snaps.
"You can't make me be quiet," I say stubbornly. He can't! If Aunt and Rosa couldn't make me be quiet, and Seeder couldn't make me be quiet, I can bet his boots that he's not going to make me be quiet either. I'm the girl who talked to the President! I think I can ask some questions, thank you very much.
"Just shut it," he says, lower this time.
"What, another tribute?" I whip my head side to side, scanning for someone in the trees. The last time Trestle told me to be quiet, we ran into Azlon and we all know how that played out.
"No, but I swear that I'll kill you if you don't stop talking."
"You don't mean that!" I say, gripping my slingshot tighter, just in case I have to knock him over the head and bring some sense back into him. Trestle glares at me for a second more, then a big grin spreads across his face.
"Course I don't mean it," he says, throwing his arm around me like he did in Training. "You're my co-star, Nell. The Firecracker and the Weasel, you don't get much better than this! I'll bet you right now that they're loving us out there, and they want to see more."
"We'll get pretty boring if I shut up, though," I tell him, only half teasing. If the President can't make me be quiet, I can darn rights tell you that Trestle from District 6 isn't going to be able to either. No, I'm Firecracker Nell, and firecrackers aren't quiet, no sir!
"Talk all you want, my girl. Just quit the questions, you got it?" He's back to being himself again; I'm honestly having a hard time figuring him out right now. He says he doesn't cartwheel; well I'll tell you that his personality is cartwheeling all over the place.
"Fine," I say, rolling my eyes. Fine, I won't ask questions, but I can sure as anything point things out. "Not much going on today, don't you think?" That was a question, just by mistake, but he answers it anyway.
"They'll put something in here to spice it up soon," Trestle says. He's probably right; there hasn't been a cannon since that one this morning, and it's getting to be late afternoon, almost evening now. The Capitol doesn't like it when the Games are slow; they say they're boring. Or so I've heard, it's not like I've been chatting with any Capitolites any time recently.
"You'll see, Nell," Trestle continues, gesturing up at the sky that I can barely see. "Tonight we're going to be having ourselves a good meal, 'cause we've got some good sponsors, and we're going to be watching that sky, and that flaming moron's going to light up the sky, just like he did last night."
Trestle laughs, but it's not funny at all. See, I'm glad we got away, but I'm not fond of the fact that he torched Azlon. That's going a little bit too far in my opinion, but I could be wrong. This is my first Hunger Games, you know.
"So if we're avoiding tributes, who are we hunting then?" I ask, flipping the subject again. Besides, I want to know what the plan is. Where are we going, anyway? I thought our territory was the jungle, but Trestle's going towards the water, I think. And it's not even water we can drink!
"Anyone else besides the Careers," he replies, a bit distractedly. "District 3's an easy target if we can find them."
"They usually go out first day, don't they?" I say, not really expecting an answer this time. Most of them go out in the bloodbath, but a couple years back a girl from 3 made it a few days in. Bit of a feat in that; it's a miracle that any of us are still walking around right now. Hey, three days in for me; I'm doing superbly compared to Hazel or Mariana.
"I'm betting fourth day for the both of them," Trestle says. "We'll get 'em, you'll see. And that victor's kid, the girl. You know which one."
"Girl from 8," I say. I remember her from Training; we put nuts down her back. Training seems like weeks ago, but it was just a few days ago, wasn't it? Time's not the same in here. It's hard to believe that District 11 even exists, or the Capitol, when you're in here. Seems to me like the whole world's gone and it's just the arena that's left.
"That's the one."
"Can we stop for a minute? I'm getting thirsty," I say. Trestle actually stops without too much grumbling, which is a miracle coming from him. I take off my pack, setting it down on a log that's right nearby. Everything's so damp; I hate it! It's hot like home, but it's not the same heat. This makes me feel like I'm being smothered in a big wet sponge, and that's no fun at all. I like the weather back in 11 a lot better, so much better than this.
"Drink quick and let's go," Trestle says, nudging me with his toe.
"Don't rush me; we've got nowhere to be," I tell him, taking a couple of quick sips from the bottle.
"I'm not getting stuck in here when the lights go out," he says a bit grumpily. Get over yourself, Trestle!
"Yeah? So where're we going to camp for the night then?" The light's already getting funny, the way it does before the sun starts to head down. Wonder if it's the same sun as back home, or just a Capitol one. Wouldn't surprise me if they had a whole supply of suns that they could just toss up any time they wanted.
"That way," Trestle replies, pointing off somewhere to my left.
"Why?"
"I told you to quit with the questions!" Suddenly he's turned back into the person who killed Hazel and lit Azlon on fire, and it's a little scary. "Get the water in the pack and let's go, Nell. Now!"
"Fine," I mutter, shoving the bottle back and slinging the backpack over my shoulders again. "Let's go, bossyboots. Guess we don't have all day after all."
Trestle doesn't say anything, just starts to crash off and leaves me to follow him. My head hurts from the walloping I took last night, and my poor feet are all cut up to bits. Hey, my feet are freer than I am right now, so who am I to complain?
Everyone's got to be watching me at home; Lotem's dead, so I'm their tribute now. When I win, Rosa's going to be sick with jealousy, I can tell you that! All that attention, and just on me. I think that might be nice, you know. First I've got to get myself out of here in one piece, though.
They're all watching me at home, I'll bet, but what's Seeder doing? She's aiming to keep me alive, that's what she's doing, but I really do wonder what she's thinking of all this. Seeder's probably on pins and needles, but she doesn't have to worry at all; I'll get out of here. When's the last time I couldn't get out of something I wanted to?
Right, the reaping. But even then, I've seen a lot more than if I just stayed in District 11 my whole life. It's a bit of an adventure, this is, don't you think?
It's getting to be just about really dark when Trestle says, "We're staying here tonight."
I look up at the sort of mountain that's right above us; it's hard to see in this light, but it looks tall and a bit scary if you want the honest truth. "Why here?"
"Easy place to hide, don't you see, Nell?" Trestle says, pointing to some bushes at the mountain's base. "Nobody'll see us there. And I want the view to see that idiot from last night in the sky." He's not wrong; there's a proper clearing above us.
"Let's make this homey then," I say, taking off the backpack again and dragging it over to the bushes. A flock of startled birds fly up and almost make me jump the height of the mountain. "You know what I miss?"
"I'll bet a soft bed for your fragile bones," Trestle snorts.
"I'll have you know I'm not fragile," I say, holding my head high. Fragile, me? Nah, nobody in 11 gets to be fragile. We're as sturdy as the trees in the orchard, and that's pretty sturdy.
"Whatd'ya miss then?"
"Mockingjays," I tell him.
Trestle laughs again and shakes his head. "Mockingjays? You miss the birds more than your pretty little house back home?"
"My house doesn't whistle a tune back at you when you sing to it. Not that you'd know; you probably can't carry a tune!"
"I don't waste my time hanging around with birds," Trestle says, stomping his way through the bushes and starts to sit down, before jumping back up. "You want a bird? Here's one for you to sing to."
"What?"
Trestle points at the ground; it's one of those colorful birds that flapped away a minute ago. Guess this one didn't go for some reason.
"Aw, c'mere," I say softly, gently picking up the bird. It doesn't do anything but sit there in my hands, but I know it's a nice bird because mean birds would bite by now.
"Ooh, Nell's holding a mutt," Trestle says, "She's going to get eaten now!"
"Stop that!" I tell him. "It's a nice bird." I'm lucky that little animals like me; I like holding birds. This one cocks its head at me, ruffles its feathers once, then takes off to go do bird things somewhere else. "See? Not a mutt at all."
"Whatever," Trestle mutters, sitting down and leaning against the rock wall behind us.
"Ow," I mutter, plunking myself down beside him.
"Aw, does Nell have an ouchy foot?"
"Yeah, 'cause you wouldn't slow down when I told you to, genius."
"I saved your ass by getting us out of there," Trestle says.
"I got us out of the tree in the first place!" I snap back. I've had it with him trying to take the credit for our escape!
"I gave you the idea in the first place, Eleanor," Trestle says acidly. "You couldn't think your way out of a train car."
"At least I'm not in a gang and bragging about the crimes I've committed!"
"You listen to me, Nell," Trestle says, his voice tense and a little worrying, "You can lip off to your mentors, your stylists, to the goddamn president if you want, but you're not going to lip off to me. I'm saving your ass out here, I'm getting us to the places we need to be, and you're not going to be questioning everything I do every step of the way. I'm the leader here, and you just shut it and follow, you get it?"
My mouth drops open; Trestle in Training would never talk to me like this! "I think you're just a bully," I tell him, gripping my slingshot tighter.
"Just shut it, Nell."
No, he can't make me be quiet; nobody but me can make me be quiet! I'm just about to say that when something white flickers out of the corner of my eye. Trestle sees it too, because he gets quiet, a little too quiet.
I can't stand the suspense, so I edge over to it as quietly as I can. "Hey, it's a parachute!"
"What're you waiting for; bring it over," Trestle says, but his voice is back to the same old same old. Really don't know what to make of him right now, but I'm not going to be quiet, I'll tell you that for sure.
In the last bits of dying light, the two of us pull the parachute off of the present that our mentors have sent us. "Bandages for my feet," I say happily, grabbing the thick rolls from the cannister.
"Got some bread here, another bottle of water, and a container of stew," Trestle says, holding it up so I can see it. "Got bowls and spoons too, aren't they fancy?"
"It's the Capitol, they're always fancy," I say, taking a bowl and spoon from my ally. He's still my ally, right? Right? At least this Trestle is, anyway. Don't know about the other one that tells me to hush up or else. I don't like that ally at all.
"C'mon my girl, let's sit back and watch the fireworks," Trestle says, spooning a bunch of stew into my bowl.
"You think it's going to be Azlon in the sky?" I ask, ripping a chunk off of the loaf of bread. You really can't beat stew and bread; it's a staple back home. Come to think of it, we don't get much else anytime, 'cause we're not much allowed to eat the fruit. I do, but I don't get caught while doing it!
"Who else got lit on fire last night? 'Course it's going to be him." Trestle chuckles to himself, like he's proud of killing Azlon. Well, I'm not too pleased about it, but there's nothing I can do now, now is there? It's him or me in here, and I'm going to be honest, I'm always going to choose me.
Like a Capitol light switch going off, the whole arena goes black. I don't like this dark at all; I can't see who's coming and who's not. I'm not a big fan of the whole 'hiding from people who're trying to kill me' thing, you know.
High above us in the sky, the Capitol seal appears and the anthem starts to play. Trestle nudges me with his shoulder. "This is it," he says with his mouth full of bread.
The Capitol seal disappears briefly, before being replaced by a headshot that's not Azlon's. "She's dead?" I exclaim. "Who took out the girl from 12?"
Trestle clanks his spoon into his bowl angrily. "Careers. Guess the idiot didn't burn his way to hell after all."
"Yeah," I say. Above us, the girl from 12 disappears before being replaced by the seal again. Only one tribute down today, turns out. You know, I'm kind of glad that Azlon isn't dead. I'm not too fond of anyone dying, really.
The anthem finishes with a flourish, and the seal disappears, leaving us in darkness and silence for all of two seconds.
Then behind us, the hissing starts.