Chapter 4: Get on the Board – Training
I pause in lifting a spoonful of cereal to my lips to glance over at Gilla, still nodding nearly into her bowl next to me. The sun is already rising fast in the sky; we have to report down to the basement of the Training Center in a little under an hour and a half for our first day of boot camp.
"…. one of you wake her up?" I blink, shaking the drowsiness from my own eyes. I don't know why my sleep patterns are so off – Kaydilyn and I always got up early to get to school; we'd be in homeroom by this hour. And on the weekends, our rousing time was even earlier, to man the sweet shop. Maybe it's the rush of being in the Capitol, but ever since the train, I've been sleeping better than I have in a long time.
All of this wonderful beauty rest despite the fact, I remind myself, that I could be in an eternal sleep within a matter of days.
When none of us respond to Brutus's command, our mentor takes it upon himself to reach across the table and sharply clap his hands, directly in poor Gilla's face. The little girl yelps, jerking awake.
"There we go! Come on, wake up, sunshine!" Brutus eases back into his seat. "Now, a couple of things before Dolly Parton here…."
"Dolly Evana," our Capitol representative corrects him.
"Whatever. Before Dolly Evana," Brutus mockingly imitates Dolly's accent on her last name. "…. takes you down for training. I want all of you to branch out – even if you're an anti-social twat and don't want to meet people…." He bestows what he must think is a meaningful stare over at Haymitch, who scowls. "…. at least get a read on them. Study who they're sidling up to. Observe what weapons they are using. However:" and he slaps the table to grab our full attention. "Just because some District 7 lumberjack with his hand down his pants is giving you a free show of what he can do with an axe, doesn't mean you should showcase what weapons you're good at. In fact, do not, under any circumstances, show off what you're naturally skilled at until your private sessions with the Gamemakers. Use your training time productively to acquire new skills. Absorb anything you can like a sponge."
Beech raises his hand, to which Brutus rolls his eyes.
"What is this, kindergarten? Yes, Beech?"
"So, um…. everyone else is going to be as naked as we were yesterday?"
I nearly laugh at the perplexed expression on Brutus's face. "Excuse me?"
"You just said a District 7 lumberjack is gonna give us a free show…."
"Oh, for Panem's sake… with an axe! Not with his dick! What, you think every District 7 bloke has junk shaped like an axe blade? Come on, man, keep up!"
I decide to quickly change the subject before this conversation continues down its very weird turn. "Speaking of who's sidling up to whom…. what would your advice be on allies?"
Brutus looks thoroughly relieved by my intervention, though there is a slight silence as he seriously ponders my question. "Avoid entering into any negotiations - for now," he finally concludes, though with a hint of caution in his voice. "Don't be standoffish, but don't get overly friendly with anyone either. I want each of you to play a more…. mysterious angle."
Haymitch cocks an eyebrow. "Mysterious?"
"Yes, genius – mysterious. You're District 12, the underdog with only… a single Victor who went AWOL years ago? No one in this one-horse town ever counts you in because they think you're cannon fodder. Keep them second-guessing that assumption. You already are – I don't think any mentor of yours has gotten as many calls about you as I have. Give them a reason to watch you without letting them know what they should be looking for. You following me?"
"The Careers will be watching us, though," Gilla mumbles. "And we already know they'll be allies."
"Don't worry about the Careers," Brutus tells her. "Focus on yourselves."
My little counterpart has raised a very good point, though – one that I've been tossing and turning in my brain ever since we tag-teamed to beat Brutus up on the train. "Why are you helping us?"
Brutus studies me as though I suddenly decided to grow an extra head. "I'm your mentor."
"Yeah, but why are you actually helping us?" I press. "We're the only district who still needs to loan out a mentor from another district. You were probably helping the District 2 Careers last year. You're really willing to elevate us over kids from your own home? Kids you would probably be mentoring now, if not for…."
"But I'm not mentoring District 2. Am I?" Brutus cuts across me. "I'm mentoring you. And you. And…. you. And, yeah, OK, even you." He points at me, Beech, Haymitch and Gilla in turn, respectively. "And whatever I think of any of your chances, Maysilee, yes, I am hoping you beat those District 2 kids. I hope you bring pride to your district…. and, yeah, I hope one of you winning grants me an extra cut on my mentoring commission." He glances down at his watch; over an hour has elapsed. "Training starts in fifteen minutes. Dolly, take them downstairs, but don't hover. You don't need to hold their hands."
As if on cue, Gilla raises hers. "What is it, Shrimp?"
"Can I at least hold her hand?" Gilla throws out the biggest puppy-dog eyes she can manage and laces her fingers through those of Dolly, who looks to be nearly in ecstasy.
Brutus steams. "Yeah, fine," he grumbles. He shoos us to the elevators. "Remember everything I said! Keep to yourselves! Hide your skills! Learn new things! Make me proud!"
For the next three days, I spend my time adhering rigorously to Brutus's instructions. That first morning and afternoon, I largely wander the Training Center alone, dabbling in all the stations. The trainer at the long-ranged weapons station is very personable, so I spend some time with him. At one point, I pick up a long bamboo stick and weigh it. It feels comfortable and light in my hand.
"Don't be fooled," the trainer – a handsome young man who can't be much older than Brutus, maybe 22, 23 - warns me. "A sharp blow to the back of a tribute's head with a quarterstaff like this one could knock them out cold, probably even fracture their skull and cause mortal damage, if you swung hard enough. Bamboo may be light, but it's also hard, firm and strong – even when it's hollow."
I think back to the staff of jellybeans I used to subdue Brutus on the train – it would have been hollow too, if not stuffed with candy. "Hollow?"
The trainer, whose name is Proximo, smiles. "Hold your eye up to the end." I do, and realize I can see clear through to the other side. "It's kinda like the telescopes we use in Astronomy class in school, though thinner," I marvel. Indeed, the tunnel vision created by the lens is not as expansive as the telescopes back home.
Proximo laughs. "And check this out." He selects a razor-thin dart from a bucket nearby and deposits it into the end of the quarterstaff. Pointing, he directs me to the firing range just beyond us, to the target dummies up against the wall. "Aim and blow."
My brow crinkling in amusement, I obey, putting the hollow end of the quarterstaff to my lips. Unconsciously, I think of the whispering I used to hear from other girls in the school cafeteria, about how you can take…. other things deep in your mouth and suck. Cheeks turning pink, I cast this memory (and also the image of a certain grey-eyed boy) from my mind and blow.
There's a low, dull THUNKing sound as the dart rockets out across the range and impales itself in a dummy sixty feet away. While I didn't hit the dead center of the target, I came incredibly close.
Proximo beams. "You're a natural, my dear!"
I weakly smile back.
I continue to explore as many of the other stations as possible over the next two days, periodically coming back to chat up Proximo, practice with staffs and ask his advice. How can a staff protect me against a tribute coming at me with a broadsword, for example? He recommends that I use a naginata – a staff with a sharp blade that can be deployed out of one end. Apparently, it was quite the weapon of choice among an ancient people called the Japanese. Using this, he and I practice sparring together until I become what I would judge to be competent.
At lunchtime, I try to use the break to at the very least glom on with someone I know (in that subset, there are only three possible people) so I naturally gravitate towards Haymitch that first morning. Or, I try to. Haymitch seems dead-set on keeping to himself off in one corner. His frosty distancing makes my stomach clench in worry. I had thought we had been warming up to each other yesterday arriving in the Capitol and during the parade. That we'd come to a better understanding after I vouched for him that first night after the Reaping. Stung, I try to brush it off by eating and talking with Gilla, who seems utterly grateful to have someone in here who will be friendly towards her. At lunch the second day, Beech joins us.
The third day is brief, with only the morning allotted to last-minute training. All afternoon, we will be going in one at a time to perform for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. Atala, our Head Trainer, warns us to be patient, especially those of us from the latter districts – with double the numbers, Glanius Crane and his team don't expect to be done until well past nightfall. The live broadcast of everyone's training scores has been pushed back accordingly.
District by district, everyone will be seen boy, girl, and then within that, youngest to oldest, when possible. Since our district will be dead last, I encourage Gilla to get some rest, and she dozes off for a little nap with her head in my lap. With nothing else to do, Beech tries to cajole me into a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, eventually playing the game with just himself when I decline. Haymitch resolutely stares at the floor, not talking to anybody. At first, I think he's fallen asleep too, but then he meets my eyes when he takes a moment to observe Gilla sleeping. His features soften into something that can only resemble warmth, as he peers down at the little girl.
In our little holding room, there is no way to keep time, not even by watching the sun, as this space is devoid of any natural lighting. Finally, only District 12 remains seated on the benches.
"Gilla Callan: please report for individual assessment!" I gently rouse Gilla, cooing at her that's it time to get up, sweetie, the Gamemakers want to see you. When she starts shaking with fear, I pull her tight to me in a long hug.
"Don't be scared, honey. You're gonna do great!"
Beech awkwardly taps her on the shoulder. "Go for it, kid." Haymitch says absolutely nothing.
After about fifteen minutes of sitting alone with only Haymitch and Beech, the automated voice over what I learned is called an intercom summons me. "Maysilee Donner: please report for individual assessment."
Beech and I nod to each other, and as I rise, I hear someone else calling my name.
"Maysilee."
I turn. Haymitch nods to me. "Good luck."
I grant him a small smile. "You too."
Entering the Training Center, I start right for the Long Weapons Station and select the naginata Proximo tutored me in. I spend about five minutes taking sweeping swipes at the air with it, grunting with the exertion.
Suddenly, almost with no warning, a trainer, then two, come running at me with batons raised. I hadn't made an official request for a trainer, but perhaps the Gamemakers want to test me.
Yelling a battle cry, I roll under the first trainer's swipe, pop back up and, flipping the ends of my staff, make a downward slash at the back of his head with all my strength. The blunt end of the naginata wallops him in his skull and he crumples to the ground with a groan.
I leap back, dodging a swipe from the second trainer before flipping the weapon in my hand again, blade side out once more, to parry his next blow. Pressing down and twisting, I manage to dislodge the baton from his palm and close in.
The blade of the naginata actually slashes a gaping hole through his tunic, and he stumbles back in shock. Stuffed padding pokes out from underneath the tear. I whirl the naginata's blade to his neck and he yields.
Turning back to the Long Weapons station, I trade out the naginata for a hollow quarterstaff, grabbing a fistful of darts and loading them. Puckering my lips, I place the one hollow end to my mouth and blow. THUNK.
Reload, blow. Again and again, I do this until I've hit the dead center of the target in ten practice dummies all from over twenty yards away.
"Thank you, Miss Donner. You're dismissed," Glanius Crane finally calls. With a tiny curtsey, I take my leave.
It's late in the night by the time I, followed by Haymitch and Beech, return to the penthouse suite to watch the training scores trickle in. Gilla is passed out on the couch by the time I get up there. Once Haymitch and Beech return, Brutus looks like he wants to wake her up, but I halt him.
"She's asleep! It's OK…. We'll wake her up when District 12 is about to come on…."
Close to midnight, Caesar Flickerman finally comes live on the air to report the returns coming in.
All a dozen Careers from Districts 1, 2 and 4 receive anywhere from an 8 to a 10 – except for Opal, who manages an 11. Brutus whistles, impressed. The quartet of pre-teens from Three never score higher than a 4. The one, taller boy from District 5 who caught my notice, whose picture even looks sneaky and mischievous, manages an 8; his other three companions end up in the basement. Low to medium for the rest – even the lumberjacks from Seven.
Finally, it's our turn, and I rouse Gilla.
"And last but not least is District 12, beginning with cute little Gilla Callan, with a score of… three," Caesar announces.
Gilla immediately bursts into tears, and I gather her up in my arms. "That's good…. that's good…." I croon, even though we all know it's not true.
"After her, we have the truly beautiful Maysilee Donner, with a score of… 10."
My jaw drops. "What did he just say?!" I squeak, even as Dolly lets out a happy shriek and hugs me.
Brutus turns to me deferentially, his lips pursed tight in a pleased smile. "The little darling's not so sweet…." he muses, and I'm too happy to admonish him on the weird pet name.
I feel a hand clasp mine. "Congrats, Princess." Staring up into Haymitch's impressed eyes, I could care even less about brushing aside his own nickname for me.
"Now for the boys! Here we have the truly ferocious Haymitch Abernathy, with a score of…. 9."
I let out a happy shout and throw my arms around Haymitch's neck. "Way to go, Mitchy!" I actually see him blushing as he awkwardly returns the embrace.
Whatever tension Brutus had in his body seems to leave him. "So you actually listened to what I said, genius. Thank the State." Haymitch pointedly refuses to acknowledge him.
"And rounding out the night is the truly massive Beech Berryhill, with a score of…. 7."
At the far end of the couch, Beech deflates; evidently, he was hoping for something as high as Haymitch or me. I get up to pat his arm. "Don't feel bad, Beech – it was a good score."
"Average, middle-of-the-road is always good," Brutus concurs. "Not too low to put sponsors off, but not too high to make others think you're a target." He must register my quizzical look for he holds up a hand. "Not that you and the Genius didn't do well – I'm very proud of both of you." (Haymitch looks taken aback at the apparent sincerity in our mentor's voice). "Tread lightly – the Careers will be watching you, and if any of them ask what you did to get that score…. demur. Play coy. We want to keep milking that mysterious angle, even for you, Beech, come tomorrow evening with Caesar…. but we'll get to that in the morning." He exhales a deep breath. "All right. Dismissed, everybody."
I lift a crestfallen Gilla up in my arms and carry her off to her rooms.
"Come on, little one – let's get you to bed…." Even though she's already slept half the day away, I hope she'll find some slumber tonight – she'll almost certainly need it.
A/N: FirePhoenix11 - Thanks for all your comments. More funny Brutus to come! IgNighted, my good and loyal friend - Thank you so much for always being so dependable. Your comments mean so much to me!
