Chapter 15- Terra Coppersmith
I notch an arrow to my bow and aim it at the target 10 feet away. Breath in, breath out. I focus on the target, and I let the arrow fly. It hits the side of the board and I let the bow fall to my side. Getting closer.
I've been spending the last two days here in the archery station, being coached by one of the trainers. I want to- no I need to- get good enough to show the Gamemakers tomorrow that I'm a contestant in these Games, that I won't go down without a fight.
Still, in the last two days I haven't come closer than hitting the side of the board with the arrow. The trainer keeps assuring me that it's actually very good for someone who's just learning how to shoot a bow and arrow, but it's not enough. Frustrated, I throw the bow to the floor and storm off.
I make my way over to the shelter building station, where the girl and boy from 11 are weaving together mats. They look harmless, and I'm tired of wearing myself out shooting arrows, so I go and sit next to them. They look at me but don't talk, which suits me fine. The trainer starts showing me how to construct a shelter out of sticks and leaves.
While I put it up against some pretend trees standing by, I scan the gymnasium for what my competitors are up to. The Careers have moved from the swords that they were at this morning over to the obstacle course; one of them, the girl from 4, topples over and they all laugh at her. That bunch is my most fierce competition in the Games, or one of them. The tributes from District 5 are throwing axes alongside the boy from 7. Despite him being from 7, the other two are much more accurate.
I step back and look at the rough shelter that I've created. The trainer nods his approval at it. "If you make one of those in the arena it'll keep the weather off at least."
"Excellent," I say, leaving that station and the District 11 tributes behind. I visit the edible plants for a little while; I'm not expecting to have much in the way of supplies and I don't want to kill myself with poison berries. I've seen it happen in previous Games. I shudder at the edible insects, though; no matter how hungry I am I don't think I could be persuaded to eat beetles.
I try out most of the other stations throughout the afternoon; I learn a twitch-up snare at the knots station; the instructor seemed very happy to see me. Besides the edible bugs, I think the knots station is the least visited.
After knots, I practice hand to hand combat with an assistant; I'm not the best but I'm not the worst. I get distracted watching the boy from 1 stab a dummy in the stomach and rip up, sending sand and stuffing everywhere. His district partner laughs and high fives him.
Abruptly I leave the assistant standing with a sword, handing off my own, and I walk back to the archery station. I go and pick up a bow from the rack, slinging a quiver over my shoulder. The assistant standing there backs up and just watches as I notch the arrow, aim, and let it fly.
It hits about an inch over from where I hit the target previously. I breath out hard. Closer. I whip out another arrow and just as I'm letting it fly the bell rings, signalling the end of the second day of training. We'll only have tomorrow morning to train before the private sessions.
My arrow hits nowhere near the board. I place my bow on the rack and head for the elevator. Of course, the Careers claim the elevator first, shoving everyone else out. We have to wait for them to get out before we can get in, a few tribute partners at a time.
Fletcher comes up behind me, touching my shoulder as he joins me. "How was today?" he asks.
"Fine, how was yours?"
"I can throw a spear fairly well," he says. He grins with a cocky smile, and I understand why Deecey liked him so much. I think about this and my filter drops without my intending it to.
"You know, my friend Deecey always liked you," I blurt out. He raises his right eyebrow.
"Pretty girl, shorter, always had her hair in a thousand different braids?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm." He doesn't say anything more until we get into our elevator alongside the District 12s and get off on our floor.
"Did you get allies?" is the first thing Shuttle asks when we walk into the living room. I look at Fletcher, who shakes his head.
"No; nobody is willing to team up with anyone."
"Terra?"
"I'm going solo," I say. Shuttle breaths out noisily and looks out the window.
"Alright then, we've got some solo operators. Woven, get out here," she calls.
Woven comes out from one of the bedrooms, which I'm assuming is hers. I've been having a fantastic time every night playing around with the different gadgets in my room. Last night I asked for hot buns and peppermints, and both were granted within a few seconds. The shower water can change color with the touch of a button, and it even sprays you down with good smelling perfume before you get out. I've smelled of vanilla and marshmallow all day. But I digress.
"What did you learn? And are you two comfortable talking about it in front of each other?" Woven asks. Again, Fletcher and I exchange glances. We've been trained together up until this point, and it doesn't really matter if we know each others' strengths. We've been keeping an eye on each other for the past two days.
"I don't care," I say.
"We can talk, I'm fine," Fletcher says, sitting on the edge of a chair.
"Alright, so what did you learn?"
"I threw some spears and, as per your instructions, I learned how to build a fire," Fletcher says.
"I went back to the archery station and practiced some more, but I also built a shelter, did some snares, and did some combat fighting," I say, coming to sit down as well. I'm tired from today.
"Excellent. We'll talk strategy over supper," Shuttle says, dismissing us. As I get up to go to my room to get changed, Postumius weaves his way out of his bedroom and down the hall towards us. He's obviously been drinking again, or is still suffering the effects of the six glasses of wine he drank over supper last night. He got very unconscious very fast, and the mentors had to put him on the couch again.
"Hello, tributes! Welcome home!" he says, leaning against a wall and smiling a little too widely. His orange clothes look a bit dishevelled, and his hair hasn't been combed today. I'm guessing he's still under last night's wine effects.
"You there!" he says in a sharper tone, snapping his fingers at one of the Capitol attendants, "Get me some water, will you?"
He looks a bit unsteady, so I get up and guide him by the arm over to an unoccupied chair. "I'm alright, don't you worry! And we'll get you to the place you need to be on time!"
Shuttle looks over and me with laughter in her eyes. They're right; what an absolute idiot Postumius is. I doubt he'll be back next year; District 8 needs a better escort for sure.
Once the Capitol attendant comes over with the escort's glass of water, I go to my room and change out of my training clothes, into a fawn orange blouse and black leggings. I run my fingers through my curls, trying to detangle them. When my grandmother was still alive, she would braid my hair like how Deecey had hers, but since she died, I've just been letting it loose.
Flopping back onto the soft blankets, I stare out the window at the Capitol with its bright colors. Slowly, the daylight fades and is replaced by the shining lights of the buildings around, and by the streets below. They'll never want for anything here, not clothing or light or food.
"Terra!" Damius calls; I launch myself off the bed and rush into the other room. Good, I'm starving. The red clothed servants are setting platters of food down and filling up goblets.
"Why can't I have wine?" Postumius is whining as I sit down.
"Because you turn into a completely useless human being," Woven says, and I stifle a laugh. It's like when Deecey and I were laughing at Postumius at the reapings. I miss her and Iry so much.
For a little while I tune out of the conversation, only focusing on the beautiful food: fish with a lemon and garlic sauce; long green beans in butter and garlic; rice that's all different colors and has a rich, brothy taste. I eat as much as I can; I'll need it in the arena.
"Right, so tomorrow is the day of your private sessions," Shuttle says, and I tune back in.
"Terra, I want you to go in and work on archery, since that's apparently what you've chosen. Impress the Gamemakers; stand out. They want a show." Shuttle looks at Woven, who clears her throat.
"Fletcher, spears for you. I want you to have a high score, but not too high that the others target you right away. Throw some spears, and anything else you think you're getting really good at. Got it?" she says. Fletcher nods.
"What happens after tomorrow?" I ask. The attendants take away my plate and replace it with another which holds a slice of chocolate cake oozing chocolate sauce.
"We'll come to that when we get past these private sessions. Remember, these can make or break you," Shuttle says, picking up her own fork and slicing off a piece of cake.
"We'll handle the days after," Emmie says. I like Fletcher's stylist; she's pretty and not altered in horrifying ways like some of the other people I've seen here. Blonde hair, blue eyes, with pink and gold tattoos snaking their ways up her arms. A butterfly is tattooed on her cheek, and even though I hate the alterations in the Capitol, I can't help but like that bejeweled butterfly.
After dessert, Woven pushes her chair back. "Get some sleep," she says. "I want you well-rested for tomorrow." Like good little tributes, we comply, even though it's still early.
I don't go to sleep, though. I sit on that ottoman by the window and look down at the streets below. Every once in a while, I see someone I want to zoom in on, and I follow them down the street. But mostly, I think of home.
What is Iry doing now? How hard is she taking this? I wish I could talk to her, or send her a message that I'm okay. Suddenly, I remember what comes after the private sessions: the interviews. I'll send her a message then, and she and Deecey and Deecey's mother will all see it. They'll know that I'm okay. Maybe I can even keep doing it in the arena, when there's nobody around. I miss them so much it hurts.
My room has a little chill, so I adjust the temperature with the dial on the wall. Immediately the temperature rises to a more comfortable warmth, and I go back to my seat by the window.
I long for home, for the streets and the crowded District that I was raised in. No matter how many gadgets and how much wonderful food there might be, I still want to get home to my little house with the extra window. To take care of my sister. I promised I would win for her; I'm not going to let her down now. I have to win.
I regret Fletcher, who sits in his own room now, I'm guessing. He's really a decent character, and I hate to see him killed. I hope I don't have to kill him.
Finally my eyes start to droop, so I get some pajamas out of the wardrobe and climb into my soft bed. The day has been so long and I've worked so hard that I'm gone almost instantly.