CHAPTER SIX – Dismissal

Johanna

There are few things I hate more in the world than waking up early.

But when Cosima begins with the sharp knocking at my door, my usual complaints will do nothing to quieten her chirping. Groaning, I turn around to look through the cracks in the heavy curtains and see it's already light outside. I'm not usually such a heavy sleeper – but ever since I've arrived in the Capitol, my nights have been dreamless. I'm still dressed in my ruffled day clothes, and the television remote digs under one of my ribs, reminding me of last night. If anything will get me out of bed, it's that.

I rummage in the wardrobe for anything appropriate to wear for the Training Centre, eventually deciding on a baggy white shirt that will cover most of my muscles and slim dark leggings. I wonder if it's Foglia's job to prepare me with my outfits, but she's as good as forsaken me as my stylist. Perhaps, if I make it out alive, I can launch some formal complaint; get her fired from the Games completely. The thought is the first thing to bring a smile to my lips in days, so I decide to follow it through.

Breakfast is a quiet and awkward affair; neither Blight nor Hazel are present, so Ainsley and I sit in silence as Cosima babbles to us about what we're to expect in the Training Centre. I'm not really paying attention though, my attention keeps shifting from the banana pancakes in front of me to the concept that, in less than an hour, I will be face to face with the tributes that want to kill me. When breakfast is over, Cosima walks us to the elevator and keys in a few numbers but doesn't step in herself. Instead, she gives us a peppy, white smile and tells us to update her on everything over dinner.

When the elevator doors close, Ainsley speaks up.

"How are you feeling?"

"Huh?" I look up, from where I've been staring at my boots. "About training?"

"Yeah," he says. "And yesterday, at dinner, with Foglia."

She's a bitch who deserves to have her eyes gouged out, I think, but I don't say it. Instead I muster something else.

"She scared me a bit, and was awfully mean, but I suppose she had her reasons to be angry."

"I thought it was stupid," Ainsley shrugs. "Listen, Johanna, I know this might not be the right time to bring this up, but I thought it'd be better if we split up now. You know? Learn our own things; we can still talk to each other, but maybe it'd be a bad idea if we-"

"If we weren't allies in the arena?" I finish. My voice breaks slightly at the end, which I'm sure he takes as despair, but truthfully, it's because I'm masking a laugh. Firstly, at the thought that Ainsley could ever be my ally. But mostly because this means that Ainsley thinks he stands more of a chance than I do at winning these Games. Me? Ainsley Coutts has never seen me in the field, lugging lumber over my back or chucking an axe at hard-to-reach places; hitting them every time. He's a drugged-out skinny kid who couldn't throw a proper punch if his life depends on it. And he thinks he's a better contender than I am.

"Oh Johanna, not in a bad way!" Ainsley says quickly, as if he's worried the floodgates will open again. Perhaps I should let them, just to make him uncomfortable. "It's just – we're not that compatible, are we? We each stand a better chance apart."

Before I have the time to formulate some reply, the elevator doors slide open. I take the chance to slip away from him, feigning upset, as I move in between the boy from Nine and the girl from Eleven. The tributes are standing in a circle around the Head Trainer, who informs us we're now only waiting for the pair from Four. Across from me, I see two-thirds of what must make up the Career tributes; the pairs from One, who murmur to each other, and Two, who wear matching dark uniform-like outfits. I scan the circle for the girl from Ten, the one who Hazel warned me might be induced into the Career pack. There she is, next to the boy from Eight and Ainsley – all buzzed hair and muscled arms. I'm not surprised they have their eyes on her, so do I. Though not as an ally, but as a threat that I must eliminate as soon as possible.

Eventually the pair from Four show up, the boy giving a lazy smile, and the girl absolutely fuming. The Head Trainer pays them no mind and begins to tell us how training works. I begin on simple survival skills, like setting traps and learning about edible plants and fruit. Things are fairly uneventful until after lunchtime, when I'm sat, learning how to start a fire with unconventional materials, and a voice comes from behind me.

"Johanna, right?"

I turn around to see the girl from Eight, Twine. She's stereotypically pretty, short, with curly brown hair half tied-up and a freckled face. I feel a reflexive wave of anger when I meet her eyes, even though I far outdid her yesterday, and it takes a moment before I reply.

"Yeah. It's Twine, isn't it?"

"Twi for short," she sits down next to me. "What's that you're learning about?"

Is she really making small talk now? I shove down the judgement I feel and instead don a curious expression. "I'm learning how to start a fire with straw," I say. "We have a lot of wood in Seven, so conventional fire-starting is easy for us."

"We don't have any kind of nature like that in Eight," she says, and I can't say I'm surprised. Even if she's been thoroughly cleaned by her prep team, I can still smell the soot coming from her, as if it's been buried into her pores. "Would you mind teaching me?"

Why should I teach her when there's a trainer right there? I think, bitterly. Surely, she can do something better than waste my time.

Noticing my silence, Twi's eyes flicker with nervousness. "Not that you have to! It's just – well, you seem nice. And everyone else is so scary. I thought maybe we could team up?"

A proposal and a rejection for allyship in the same day? This really must all be a dream. I look up and down at her; her skinny frame, the way she's trembling slightly, and know that allying with her means certain death. Even if she wouldn't alert someone to our location with pure stupidity, she'd slow us down, or stop me from accomplishing my goals. And, as I'd decided the second my name was called, Johanna Mason operates alone.

"Oh Twi," I say, trying to keep my voice soft. "I'm sorry – I don't think it would be safe. One young girl on her own in the arena is boring, two young girls are a fun hunt for the Careers."

She looks crestfallen, but nods. "Oh yeah, I hadn't thought of that. How stupid I must be."

"No, you're not stupid!" I say, quickly, though I'm thinking that exact thing.

"Would you mind if I stay here, though?" she asks. "My district partner doesn't like me very much, and everyone else is frightening."

I feel the urge to decline, but there's a part of me that feels pity for this girl; all alone, searching for some final human connection before her inevitable death. Instead, I nod, and get to work on teaching her how to start a fire.

The rest of the day and the next of training are fairly uneventful. Sometimes Twine and I train together, sometimes we split up. There's some kind of benefit by having her on my side, because she really is useless at most of the things we do, so I can copy her. Sometimes, the thought creeps into my head that I could sabotage her – teach her how to make a trap so that she ensnares herself or misinform her on which berries are edible. But there's a part of my brain that always fights back. I'd much rather her death be quick and painless, rather than starving to death, caught in a trap, waiting for another tribute to come and finish her.

After each day of training, Hazel and I head to the garden to talk about what I've learnt. She's curious to hear about Twine, and we agree I've made the right choice to decline her invitation to ally. She tells me about the bits and pieces she's heard backstage by the other mentors; ideas for sponsors and allyships. It's lucky that I've been written up by all of Panem as a lost cause, because it means the other victors are much more likely to talk to her about their plans for their tributes.

It's after the second day of training that I decide to breach the issue of her Games. We've been sat in the garden for a while, she sits weaving a chain of small white flowers, while I'm rocking backwards and forwards in one of the plush lounging chairs that lie around the pathways. Neither of us like to spend time in our training apartment, and much prefer to relax down here.

"I saw some of your Games," I start, almost uncharacteristically hesitant. She looks up at me, curiously. "Not all of it – just up to the interviews. I was interested, I guess. Sorry, if that's an invasion of your privacy."

Hazel pauses, and then shrugs. "And I'll be invading your privacy in a couple days' time. It's fine, Johanna." And then she frowns. "Why, what did you think?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "You were smart. Charismatic."

"As if I'm not already?" Hazel gives me a dry look.

"Not quite charismatic," I say. "You don't come across badly; just aloof. I don't know anything about you." It takes me a moment to realise that insulting my mentor might not be the best idea, and I try to find the best way to backtrack.

At the look on my face, Hazel smiles. "Relax, Johanna, I was joking. It was an angle, Blight helped me conjure it up. Got me some allies for my trouble; lucky thing too, I would have died without them."

"Oh," I say, knowing that I won't be getting any of those anytime soon.

"As for getting to know me," she says. "You'll have time for that after you win these Games. Right now, I'm focused on getting to know you."

I spot the unsaid words already, hanging in the air like a noose hanging from a tree. I don't want to get close to you, in case you die. I suppose it's fair enough, but part of it enrages me, because it means she's still not certain I'll win. Searching for something, anything, to wind her up, I pick the first thing that comes to mind.

"Who was Felicis?" I ask.

At the mention of his name, Hazel's eyes grow dark and vacant, as if she's seeing something that I can't. It takes her a moment to come to, and when she does, I can see that her hands are gripped tightly around her makeshift flower rope, crushing the little white petals to bits.

"We called him Felix," she says. "I knew him from school."

It's common enough, I suppose, to know someone in the arena when you're from Seven. We're a large district, but a small one population-wise, and the chances of being picked are higher than just about any other district, except maybe Twelve. It's a stroke of sheer luck that Ainsley dropped out of school years ago and doesn't work in the woods, otherwise he'd know about me and I'd have a whole other problem on my hands.

"What was he, your boyfriend?" Somehow, the thought of that infuriates me. Romance in the arena is barf-inducing already, not to mention when Hazel is concerned.

"No," Hazel almost laughs, shaking her head. "Just a friend. A good friend, actually. Knew him since I was six."

"Did he make it far?"

Her eyes grow vacant again. "No."

We sit in silence for a bit, until a white-clad avox arrives and hands Hazel a blood-red envelope. As she opens it, away from me, there's the sweet scent of roses that fill the air, even though they're planted on the other side of the flower garden. Hazel stands up.

"Sorry Johanna, I have to head off somewhere," she says, tucking the envelope into her pocket. "Stay as long as you like, I'll see you tomorrow when they announce your training scores."

And with that, she disappears, and I'm struck curiously by her sudden departure. What job would Hazel have to fulfil here that isn't mentoring me, and is it more important? I feel a jolt of anger at the idea that I am not her own priority here, and I feed it by squashing the remainder of her flower crown into pulp under my feet. When I'm satisfied, I stand up and make my way to my room.

The next day is our individual training sessions. After lunch we're herded into a side room while they clean and prep the Training Centre for us, and Twi comes and sits down next to me, nervously playing with her beaded bracelet. It's the closest we've been all together, and I run my eyes down the row of us. The Careers sit at the front closest to the doors, some laughing rowdily, and some sat there, in stern focus. The girl from Ten hasn't joined them, so she's either declined or they haven't asked yet. I hope it's the former, because it means they'll have her on the top of their target list. On my other side, Ainsley's hands twitch involuntarily.

And so here, I watch them all, and I see their eyes reflected in mine. All strong, all determined, all utterly terrified. But I know that when the time comes, those eyes will shut. I know exactly where they'd fall; that is to say, at my own hand.