Jason Baize (17) D8M
I sat on one bench and Silver sat on the opposite, able to face me but instead staring out the window. I was glued to the window too, waving at my family for as long as I possibly could before they inevitably faded from sight. My hands felt heavy and my head was sore, the inevitable crying headache coming on, but I waved and waved until my family was gone and then waved a few seconds longer for good measure. Silver, I noticed, did not. Her head was pressed against the window, her eyes shut, as if she intended to nap the whole way to the Capitol. I couldn't blame her, what with all the stress of being Reaped, but I couldn't relate. I didn't have time to waste sleeping. I felt like I wouldn't sleep again until I was dead.
Chiffon Gabardine, Eight's first and only Victor, sat beside Silver when she entered our train car. She looked over Silver, took a second to look me over, and turned so she was facing me. "So, are you two allying?" she asked me, clearly not asking Silver, who hadn't moved since she entered the train.
"No, we're not," I answered, trying to sound confident in my decision. I didn't want to abandon Silver. She clearly needed help. But it wasn't help I could give, and she was too similar to me for me to feel comfortable. Her face shape was the first thing I had noticed, but her mannerisms mimicked mine as well. I'd had days where I slept for eighteen hours at a time, days where I didn't move at all unless I was forced to, days where even being physically dragged out of bed hadn't helped me. I could relate to how hard it was, how much those days of actively doing nothing were necessary, but I hadn't spent years working through that just to have someone exactly like me bring me back down to those points. I'd help her if I could afford to and not before.
"All righty. I hate to say it, but I'm gonna train you two together. It gets both of you the maximum amount of time with me, and I feel like even you two aren't allying you aren't going to be each other's greatest enemies. To be blunt, neither of you are fighters. Silver looks like she could die from being touched and you look like you couldn't run for over thirty seconds. Does focusing on survival sound good for the both of you?"
Silver nodded slightly, the biggest reaction I'd seen from her, and I found myself nodding before I stopped myself. "I think..." The words had to be said but I didn't want to be the one to say them. I hated to admit what was inevitably the truth, but forced the words to come out of my mouth. "I think I should spend a day learning something about fighting. I don't care what it is but... you can get a long way by outlasting. The final two doesn't end like that."
Chiffon regarded me for a few seconds before replying. "That's reasonable. I'd like to say you shouldn't be thinking like that, but you should. A day's a bit of a long time, though. What if it's an outdoors Arena?"
I looked down at my hands for a few seconds, then glanced around the train. "My parents were always preppers," I whispered. "Very... survivalists, I guess would be the right word? I don't know. It's just... I know some things. The basics. Don't sleep on the ground; have something beneath you. Water from upstream, not downstream. The little things. Things Dad taught me just in case I ever got lost." Just in case I ever got Reaped, I was too afraid to say. Training wasn't allowed in Eight. Worried parents were. And even if there wasn't much grass in Eight and getting lost was nigh-impossible, my little lie could convince the Capitol enough for it not to care.
"Ah, all righty. You do a little bit of fighting. Silver will just do survival. Try and find yourself an ally, but be careful. Everyone says they won't make friends. Nobody sticks to that promise." I knew in my heart that Chiffon's words were right. Winning the Hunger Games as a loner was near impossible, though not totally unheard of. I also knew that trying to be a loner would be my best bet. It was impossible for me to know what I'd do in a life-or-death situation, whether or not I'd abandon an ally to save myself. But I had the nagging feeling that I wouldn't, that years of programmed morality would overtake my will to live or that my old self-sacrificing nature would come back one last time. I couldn't afford that risk, so I couldn't afford allies.
"On a lighter note," Chiffon continued, "What should we do for sponsors? Survival skills are great, but so are fresh cheeseburgers delivered directly to your hovel."
"I'm pretty good at making jokes. I can smile and laugh when I need to. Really good at putting on a fake face. Practice makes perfect, I guess," I said, trying to let Silver know I related to her by dropping the smallest hint I could. Years of practice had made me a great actor until my confidence became real and my happiness was legitimate. "Oh, also, I've always wanted to talk to the cameras. I figured it's a pretty dumb idea, which is probably why it doesn't really get done a lot, but I may as well try it, you know?"
Chiffon nodded. "I was a little worried about the joke thing. Lots of people freeze when they're on the spot. But talking to the cameras might be easy enough. Pretend you love them. Pretend the Games are all a grand adventure, because that's all the Capitolites will see them as. Pretend that the audience is part of a great performance and it's their job to get involved, and you just might get through this."