Training Day One
Sharp
Sharp: Higher in pitch by one semitone.
Baoba Pitblossom, 17
District One
This was why he usually avoided people. They always wanted something. Even the ones who seemed friendly didn't really want to be polite; they just thought it was a good way to manipulate you into giving them what they wanted. Baoba shook his head at the boy from Twelve, who was still standing in the doorway of District One's quarters. "Look, I already told you everything I know. Silver is silver."
"But you said it wasn't the sort of thing you'd find in One."
"Yeah, because it's not very fancy. Anything from One would have a diamond in it, or some sort of decoration or pattern along the sides, or something. This is just a silver band. There's nothing on it that I could use to figure out where it came from. Let it go, kid."
"But—"
Baoba held up his hand. He knew where that sentence was going. This ring was the only clue the boy had about his identity, his parents, and Baoba's words the night before had given him nothing but more questions. He'd probably assumed the ring came from Eleven because his parents had, but now he was beginning to question that.
Baoba sighed. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have kept his mouth shut and not gotten involved. Getting involved never did anyone any good.
"Look," he said in what he hoped was a placating tone. "I don't have any answers for you. But my mentor, Phoenix … they've got connections. You could ask them to talk to the other mentors, see if they know anyone who might know anything. But you have to do something for me first."
"Anything," the boy blurted out, rather too quickly. "What do you want?"
"I want you to leave me alone. I don't want anything more to do with this. I get Phoenix to talk to you, and then I'm done. That's it. Whatever they find out, it has nothing to do with me. Clear?"
Lark blinked. Clearly, he'd been expecting Baoba to ask for something more than that. But he didn't want anything more than that. He just wanted the boy to leave him alone. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone.
"Clear," Lark agreed. "Are you going to ask them now or—"
"Hey, Phoenix!" Baoba called into the next room. "Got a question for you!"
Phoenix appeared around the corner, with Opal alongside. "Make it quick; you're supposed to be at the training room in a few minutes."
Baoba shook his head. "Actually, I don't have a question. Lark here does." And without another word, he left the three of them and headed for the training room.
Most of the tributes were already there, some already starting to form little groups. Baoba positioned himself carefully near the edge, far enough away from anyone else that no one would mistake him for part of a group. He didn't want to be part of a group. He never had. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?
Opal Granite, 14
District One
"What did you want to ask me?" Opal heard Phoenix ask as she followed Baoba down the hall towards the training room. Whatever the answer was, she didn't stick around to hear it. She was a bit curious what a kid from Twelve might want with one of the Career mentors, but not curious enough to waste time that she could be spending training.
She caught up to the other Careers just as the training doors opened. Perfect timing. She flashed a smile at the other Careers. The younger tribute from Two – Quinta, apparently, according to their name badge – waved back. "Looks like your district partner won't be joining us?" they asked, nodding towards where Baoba was standing in a corner.
Opal shook her head. "Nope. Just me." Part of her was surprised that Quinta was apparently part of the pack, as well, but she wasn't exactly in a position to question who was allowed to join. Besides, weaker tributes in the pack just put her in a better position. "So where should we start?" she asked, not entirely sure where to direct the question. Who was in charge? Probably one of the older two, but which one?
It was Octavia who answered first. "No point in practicing something you already know. Find a weapon you don't know how to use, or something you don't know how to do, and learn that. Don't feel like you have to show off to make a good impression. Anyone who watched the reaping is going to assume that the Career pack this year is a bit … under par. Let them. We can work with that. The more they underestimate us, the better. Save the showing off for the Games," she added with a playful smirk.
Opal nodded as the pack began to disperse. Learn something new. She could do that. Halfway to the knives station, though, she stopped herself. Octavia had clearly said to practice something they didn't know. If she headed there, she would practically be admitting she didn't even know how to use a knife properly. Instead, she turned right, heading for the hatchet-throwing station.
The trainer at the station beamed, clearly delighted to have her first pupil of the day so early. "Well, hello there. Part of the Career pack, I see?"
"Yeah."
"Can I assume you already have a bit of experience throwing knives?"
"Of course," Opal lied. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She was too scared to turn and see if Octavia was still watching her. What if the trainer asked her to demonstrate throwing a knife? She'd seen it done, of course – everyone had – but seeing it and doing it were very different things. What if—?
"Fantastic," the trainer said with a mischievous grin. "Now forget all of it, because throwing a hatchet is completely different."
Opal tried not to make her sigh of relief too obvious. "I think I can manage that."
Rose Thornton, 12
District Eleven
Rose gasped for breath as Aloe helped her to her feet. "This is a lot harder than it looks." It had been Aloe's idea to head for the hand-to-hand combat station. How hard can it be? You just walk up and start punching, right?
Wrong, apparently. Very wrong. The trainer, a large man with muscles to match, had already knocked each of them flat on their backs before they'd even landed a punch. "Not really fair, you know," Aloe muttered after the trainer swiped her legs out from under her again. "It's not like the people we'll be fighting will be as big as you."
"Most of them, anyway," Rose agreed.
Aloe brightened. "We could always fight each other."
"Most of the other tributes won't be as small as you, either," the trainer muttered.
"How about me?" asked a voice from behind them. Rose turned to see the girl from Eight watching them. "I could use a lesson, too, so how about one of you fights me, and he gives the other one pointers?" she asked, nodding at the trainer. "Then we swap."
Aloe nodded. "Sounds fair. I'll go first."
Rose smiled gratefully and sidled over next to the trainer. The girl from Eight took a step towards Aloe. "Whenever you're rea—"
Her sentence was cut off as Aloe dove for her legs, knocking her over almost immediately. The girl chuckled as she got to her feet. "Well, I guess that's my first lesson, huh?"
Aloe smirked. "Always be ready? Sounds like a pretty good less—" She didn't get to finish, because the older girl lunged. Aloe ducked out of the way, diving for the other girl's legs, but the same trick wasn't going to work twice in a row. The older girl leapt out of the way.
The trainer shook his head. "Not bad. Pretty good dodging, but eventually, you're going to have to fight."
Aloe lunged, and this time, the older girl stood her ground, catching Aloe's fist in her hand, letting Aloe's momentum carry her forward, throwing her off-balance. Aloe hit the ground, rolled, and got to her feet again. "Nice."
"You, too."
"Want to try, Rose?" Aloe called.
Rose took a few steps closer. She didn't really want to fight. She didn't want to accidentally hurt someone. But Aloe had made it look almost … fun. Rose nodded and took a swing at the older girl, who ducked beneath the blow. She dodged the next one, too, and the next. "Stop swinging in the same place," the trainer called. "If you always aim for the same spot, they'll know where to block. Switch it up."
Rose nodded, aiming lower this time. The punch caught the older girl in the stomach, and she took a step backwards – right into Aloe, who wrapped her arms around the older girl's legs, bringing her to the ground. "That's cheating," the older girl mumbled, but she was smiling as she got to her feet.
Aloe Brittle, 13
District Twelve
"Can't be cheating if there aren't any rules," Aloe pointed out as the older girl got to her feet. "I mean, that's how it works, right? Once we're in the Games, anything's fair game."
"Yeah, but—" the other girl started, but then stopped herself. Clearly, the idea of fighting dirty, of ganging up on someone else, bothered her, but she also clearly knew how silly it would sound if she said it out loud. "You're right," she agreed reluctantly.
"Strength in numbers and all that," Rose offered cheerily. "Two people have a better chance than one, even if they're fighting someone stronger."
The older girl tilted her head a little. "And three have a better chance than two?"
"You … you want to join us?" Rose ventured.
"I'd love to." The girl held out her hand. "Lucinda."
"Rose. And this is Aloe."
Aloe shook Lucinda's hand. "What's the catch?"
"The catch?"
Aloe nodded. "Yeah. Our district partners ditched us because we're too young. So what makes you think we'd be good allies?"
Lucinda shrugged. "Age isn't everything."
"No, but it certainly doesn't hurt."
"You want the truth?"
Aloe nodded. "Always."
"My district partner ditched me, too. Made it very clear on the train that he wasn't interested in an alliance. Nothing against me personally, I don't think; I don't think he wants allies at all." She nodded to a station over in the corner, where her district partner was focused intently on trying to start a fire. "So I figured … well, who would want me as an ally? I mean, I'm from District Eight. You two probably already know how to start a fire or tell plants apart or other useful things. But you two seemed … approachable."
Aloe chuckled. "You mean we didn't seem threatening."
"Maybe," Lucinda conceded. "But maybe that's not a bad thing. There's something to be said for being underestimated."
Aloe cocked her head. No. No, that wasn't quite it. Not quite the whole truth. She would bet on that. But whatever the reason, they weren't exactly in a position to turn down an ally. "Welcome to the club."
Rose grinned. "Maybe we can head over to the plant station later and teach you some of that."
Lucinda nodded. "I'd like that. Let's give this a little bit longer first, though."
Aloe smirked. "Yeah. No telling what kind of plants will be in the arena, but there'll be plenty of people to fight – for a while, at least." Silence. "It was a joke. I'm thirteen, not stupid. I know better than to charge in and attack a group of Careers or something."
Of course, with this year's Careers…
No. No, Lucinda was right. There was something to be said for being underestimated, and that meant she couldn't afford to underestimate anyone else. Young Careers were still Careers, and there were five of them. At least, she was pretty sure there were five of them. There was another younger boy at the dagger station training with the younger tribute from Two, but if they were thinking about expanding the pack, they would be looking for older, stronger tributes, wouldn't they? Not tributes like her, or Rose, or Lucinda.
No, the three of them weren't Career material. Maybe they weren't all that strong or intimidating. But that didn't mean they couldn't win.
Percy Allen, 12
District Six
Percy loosened his grip on his dagger as the whistle blew for lunch. Quinta clapped him on the back. "You're getting better."
"You too. Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
"Letting me train with you. I didn't really think you would, being part of the Career pack and all."
Quinta shrugged. "No rule saying the pack has to train together the whole time. In fact, Octavia told us to go learn something we didn't know yet, and … well, she already knows all of this." Quinta gestured vaguely towards the dagger station. "And probably the rest of it, too." They rubbed the back of their neck uncomfortably. "It was nice, you know … having someone to work with."
"You've got four other Careers to work with," Percy pointed out.
"Yeah, but…" They trailed off, thinking better of what they were about to say. "Anyway, I should probably join them for lunch, or they'll start to wonder whether I'm going to run off and leave the pack. It was good to meet you."
"You too."
Quinta turned to go, but then turned back suddenly. "Can I ask you something?"
Percy froze, his fingers closing around the necklace in his pocket. There was no way Quinta could have seen it. No way they could know. He'd thought about leaving the necklace in District Six's quarters, but he couldn't stand the thought that maybe someone would come along and take it, or hide it, or worse, use it. No, it was better with him.
"Sure," Percy answered, trying to sound casual.
"Why'd you volunteer?"
Percy tried to hide a sigh of relief. He was prepared for that one. "I'd been planning to for a while, as soon as I turned twelve. I live in the orphanage back in Six, and it's … well, it's rough. I figured if there's any chance at a better life, I should take it, right? I mean, it's surprising that more people don't, right?"
"I guess so," Quinta agreed. "That's how the Career systems started, you know, back during the earlier Games. After the war, people saw it as a solution to their problems. Either you'd come back rich, or you wouldn't come back at all. My uncle thought about it, too, when he was younger." They shook their head. "Glad he didn't, though. He probably wouldn't have survived, and then I would've ended up in the orphanage, too."
Percy cocked his head. "You're an orphan?"
Quinta shrugged. "Never really thought of myself as one, because I've always had my uncle. I don't even remember my parents, really; I was pretty young when they died. But Uncle Garrison's always been more like a father."
"You're lucky," Percy blurted out before he could stop himself. He wished he had someone like that. Just one person, one person to take care of him. Instead, he was left with only this option for taking care of himself.
Quinta nodded. "Yeah." They smiled. "Actually, it was lucky for me that you volunteered, too."
"Why?"
"I bet there would be a volunteer from Six – and because of you, I won. Octavia was impressed. She offered me a place in the pack."
"And you said yes."
"Wouldn't you?"
Percy hesitated. What would he do if he were offered a place in the pack – or any alliance, for that matter? The pills were enough to give him an edge, but that also meant that any allies would only slow him down. He shook his head. "No, I don't think I would."
Aurora "Aura" Flash, 16
District Five
Aura watched from the fire-starting station as the three younger girls – the girls from Eight, Eleven, and Twelve – continued their plant-sorting. She'd thought, briefly, about going over and joining them. The way they were interacting almost reminded her of Neon and Ember. It would be nice – comforting, in a way – to find someone to work with who reminded her of her sisters.
But something had stopped her. She didn't need allies who would be like her sisters. She couldn't afford to get that attached. She had two sisters waiting at home for her, and getting back to them had to be her first priority. Her only priority. She couldn't afford to waste time taking care of anyone else.
Because that was clearly what the older girl was doing – taking care of the two younger ones. She could try to dress it up however she wanted, and was clearly making a big deal out of the fact that they were 'teaching' her about plants, but it was obvious she wanted to protect them. Why else would an older tribute go out of her way to team up with two younger ones?
"You made the right choice," came a voice from behind her.
Aura nearly jumped, but relaxed a bit when she saw the girl from Six. Aura had seen her flitting from station to station, never really settling down anywhere, picking up a little of this and a little of that. Maybe picking up little things about the tributes, too, apparently. "What do you mean, the right choice?" she asked.
"Not joining up with them – or someone like them. It's tempting, isn't it. I mean, that is why you volunteered, after all – for your sister. Makes sense you'd be the protective sort." She settled down next to Aura. "But you can't protect anyone in the Games – not really. Not forever. Not if you want to come home."
Aura said nothing. She was right. Aura hated that she was right. She'd always put her family first, always put Neon and Ember's needs before her own. But now putting them first meant she had to put herself before everyone else in the arena. They needed her to come home, and that couldn't happen if she was protecting someone else.
Aura watched the girl for a moment. She seemed to be waiting for something. "Your district partner – he's one of the younger ones, too, right?"
The other girl nodded. "Yeah. Thought about going and training with him, but then I thought to myself, that's not my job. Nobody told me I had to take care of him, just because he's my district partner. He's not my responsibility. The only person I'm responsible for in here is me." She picked a few sticks from the pile in the center. "And then I figured, if I'm going to be responsible for myself in the arena, I might as well learn how to light a damn fire."
Vicarys Flask, 15
District Six
"So why did you do it?" Vicarys asked as she and Aura continued building their fires.
Aura looked up from her pile of kindling. "Do what?"
Vicarys couldn't help a laugh. "Volunteer, obviously. It's not like that's the sort of thing that happens every day." When Aura didn't answer, she cocked her head a little. "Unless it is the sort of thing that happens every day. You protecting your sisters – that's what you do, isn't it. Even though the girl you volunteered for was, what? A year younger than you, tops?"
"So what?"
Vicarys shrugged. "So fifteen, sixteen, what's the difference? It's not like your chances in the Games are that much better than hers would have been. I mean, I'm fifteen, and I'd like to think I have a chance."
"It's not about whose chances were better."
"No?"
"No. It's about who's taking those chances."
"And you'd rather take a chance on dying than feel guilty for not stepping in."
"Wouldn't you?"
"No."
It was Aura's turn to look confused. "No? You'd rather just go on with your life, knowing there was something you could have done to save someone you care about?"
Vicarys shrugged. "Why not? It's what a lot of people do every year." She gestured around the room. "How many of these tributes probably have siblings, would you say? Older siblings who could have stepped in for them?"
"I don't know."
"But some, probably?"
"Probably, yeah."
"But they didn't. They had a chance, they didn't take it, and now they have to live with it. But not you. You get to be a hero." She added a few sticks to her pile. "Your sister's the one who has to live with it."
"What do you mean?"
"If you don't come back, I mean. Obviously, if you win, all's well and good and you can live happily ever after. But if you don't, how do you think she's going to feel? Grateful that she's alive? Or guilty knowing that the only reason she's alive is because you're dead? You think she'll be able to live with herself?"
"I hope so."
"Even though you wouldn't be able to, if your positions were reversed?"
"That's different. I—"
"How?"
Aura cracked a stick in half. "It just is. I wasn't thinking about it like that. I just—"
"Wanted to save her."
"Of course." She sighed. "Do you have siblings?"
Vicarys shook her head. "No." Not anymore.
"Then you wouldn't understand. They're all I have. The only family I've got. And I wasn't going to let one of them die – not if I could do something about it. I wasn't thinking about it like that because it wasn't about thinking. It was about instinct." She cocked her head a little. "And I think you do have siblings. Or maybe you just want siblings."
"What makes you say that?"
"What you said before about Percy, about realizing that he wasn't your responsibility. That means that your first instinct was to assume that he was, that you should take care of him. You want someone to take care of, someone to protect, but you're afraid to because—"
"Because of what happened the last time I did," Vicarys blurted out before she could stop herself.
Aura nodded. "There it is. You don't have siblings anymore. But you did."
"Yeah."
"And whatever happened to them … it was your fault?"
"No."
"But you still feel like it was, like there was something you could have done?"
Vicarys bit her tongue. There was nothing she could have done. It was an accident. A fluke. But if there had been something she could have done to stop it … maybe she would have done something. Maybe not something as reckless as what Aura had done, but something.
Aura finally smiled a little. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you do understand."
"Maybe I do."
"How would you feel about working together?"
"Us?"
"Why not? That's why you came over here, isn't it?"
Vicarys hesitated. Was it? Maybe. Maybe she'd been looking for someone like Aura – someone she wouldn't need to protect, someone who could take care of herself. Vicarys held out her hand. "I think it was."
Octavia Branshaw, 18
District Two
The mentors caught her eye right away. Octavia raised an eyebrow when she saw the two of them – Phoenix and Lyric – standing near the doorway. It wasn't anything to be worried about, probably. Most likely, they just wanted to see how their tributes were doing. That would make sense. It would be the most practical explanation.
But her gut told her otherwise. Once the whistle blew, signaling the end of training for the day, she made her way over to them, with Quint falling in step behind her. After spending most of the first half of the day training at the dagger station with the boy from Six, Quint had started following her around instead. That had been a surprise, but a welcome one. They'd probably figured they would learn more from her than from picking up the basics with one of the outer-district youngsters.
They were probably right.
Lyric nodded at the pair of them in what she probably hoped was a casual manner. "How's training going?" she asked, motioning slightly towards the elevator. Away from the other tributes.
"About as well as could be expected," Octavia answered vaguely, following her and Phoenix. "The younger ones don't know as much as they should, but they're learning. Sebastian seems more interested in teaching his district partner than sharpening his skills, but he seems to know what he's doing." She followed Lyric and Phoenix into the elevator, then glanced back at Quint, who was waiting outside. Waiting for permission to join them. Octavia nodded, and Quint stepped inside.
As soon as the door closed, Octavia turned to Lyric. "Okay, what's with the secrecy?"
Lyric's expression immediately became panicked. "Were we that obvious?"
Octavia rolled her eyes. "Painfully. But in a good way. With any luck, the other tributes will assume someone who's trying that hard to look like they're not hiding something is actually trying to make people think they're hiding something when they're really not. So spill. What happened?"
It was Phoenix who answered. "The boy from Twelve approached one of my tributes this morning, looking for information. Apparently, he's not actually from Twelve, but Eleven. His parents ran away with him when he was little, and almost made it to Twelve with him. A family there found him, raised him as their own, but he's still looking for distant relatives."
"Okay." So far, nothing terribly out of the ordinary. People trying to escape the districts wasn't entirely unheard of, though the Capitol would officially deny it happened at all. "What's that have to do with us?"
"The boy had a ring – a ring that Baoba correctly identified as silver, a bit of a luxury for a typical citizen in Eleven. So I reached out to Lyric, who has some connections with the Peacekeepers. I figured they might have some information on who might have been able to afford something like that. If I'd known what they'd find—"
"It's all right, Phoenix," Lyric assured them. "I'm glad I know, at least." She turned to Octavia. "I found some old records of disappearances in Eleven – three that fit the right time frame. One woman, her five-year-old son … and one Peacekeeper. Julian Arkose."
Arkose. "A relative of yours?"
"An uncle. An uncle I had been told was killed in the line of duty. That's still the official story. The unofficial story is a bit more colorful. Apparently, he had a … fling with a local woman. They had a child. Years later, when his superiors found out, they arranged to have him transferred. Shortly after he got his orders, he disappeared … along with the woman and their son."
Octavia was silent for a moment. "So he's your…"
"Cousin, yes. But that doesn't change anything, Octavia. A bastard cousin I never knew, the son of two traitors who got what they deserved when they fled the Capitol." She shook her head. "As far as I'm concerned, he's no relative of mine. It would be easy to bury this, and I would be happy to do so, but…"
"But?"
It was Quint who caught on. "But she thinks we can use it, instead."
Of Course We're Careers: Opal, Octavia, Quint, Corin, Sebastian
(Representing) District Nine: Squirrel, Malachi
Let's See What Happens: Arti, Whisper
(Maybe) I'll Save You For Last: Fermi, Hyde
Strength in Numbers and All That: Rose, Aloe, Lucinda
Maybe You Do Understand: Aurora, Vicarys
