Training Day 1
Thursday, July 9th, 1663 P.A.

Tycho Searling, 17
District 4 Male Tribute

I'm probably the first Career in history that wants to skip group training. Since I was a little boy, I've heard countless praises about training in the Capitol. It's the place where the Careers intermingle with each other and solidify their alliance; where they detect potential threats that need to be eliminated as soon as possible; where they learn to appreciate their prior instruction as they watch other tributes try to catch up to their years of preparation. Even if they don't need it, pride drives the Careers to attend training.

But I don't feel prideful; I feel embarrassed. I don't know how many tributes saw me almost fall off my chariot yesterday. Mayuri noticed, but she was standing right beside me. If she exposes me to the other Careers, I may be deemed inept and lose my place in the alliance.

Especially if they learn that I almost fell because of The Boy.

I may have only seen him through the large monitors at the Tribute Parade, but I already memorized his features. His fair beige complexion is complemented with almond-shaped eyes and bluish-gray irises, an array of freckles along his straight nose, and a sharp jawline that deserves its own warning for young children. Yesterday, his dark brown hair was gleaming from all the product and his long bangs were combed away from his face. He looks like he might be ten pounds lighter than me, yet his aviator jumpsuit emphasized the definition in his legs.

An illogical part of my brain wonders what would happen if we both won. Would we become the new Leith Taliesen and Bronsen Raede from the 16th Hunger Games? Happily engaged. Madly in love. Maybe we'd adopt children in a few years. Or, maybe we could find a surrogate. I don't want to be the reason that his family's flawless genes to end with him. A child with his eyes and freckles and jawline—

I shake my head to push away the fantasies.

It's just a crush, I remind myself. It'll pass.

Besides, if I win, I'll be forced to marry Alaia. It's the only way that I'll earn my step-father's love and respect.

There's no happy ending to my story.

Someone knocks on my door, but I don't move a muscle. My eyes remain trained on the white, nondescript ceiling of my bedroom.

"Tycho, c'mon, training starts in like ten minutes!" Mayuri slightly cracks open the door. "If you aren't ready in two minutes, I will drag you to the elevator by your earlobe. Speaking from experience, that wouldn't be fun for either of us." She peeks her head into my room. "You aren't even out of bed yet! Get up!"

"I'm moving! I'm moving!" I toss aside my bedsheets and swing my legs off the bed.

"Put on some clothes!" she shrieks, retreating back behind the door. "I really didn't want to start my day by seeing my district partner naked."

I feel heat rush into my cheeks. "But… But I'm not naked; I'm wearing boxers."

"It's still indecent exposure!" I hear her move away from my room, yet she keeps the door ajar. "Let's forget that ever happened. I'll grab you something for breakfast. Are you fine with fruit?"

"Sure."

Once Mayuri's footsteps fade into the distance, I amble into my en-suite bathroom.

I grimace at my reflection in the mirror. Although I spent an hour last night trying to scrub off all the bodypaint, my face and my forearms are noticeably bluer than normal. My stylist said that it wouldn't permanently stain my skin, but my doubt increases with every passing minute that I spend in the shower.

With the realization that I have limited time, I hastily run through my typical morning routine and throw on my training outfit. The polyester shirt seems to emphasize the muscles in my pecs and my biceps, and its dark gray color brings back some of the natural pigmentation to my olive skin. Although the black gym shorts have a shorter inseam than the ones that I typically wear, they're surprisingly comfortable and aesthetically pleasing. This is the first outfit in the Capitol for which I don't have any complaints.

"Time's up!" Mayuri barges into my bedroom. "I even gave you an extra minute so I wouldn't catch you naked again."

"I wasn't naked."

"Well, it was close enough." She shrugs. "The servants already cleaned the dining room table, but I was able to snag a stray banana. I hope that's alright."

"That's fine." She tosses it, and I catch it with one hand. "Thank you."

"You can thank me by walking to the elevator. Training starts in five minutes."

Before I leave the bathroom, I run my free hand through my sandy hair one last time. I wish I had access to my own products; I can only hope that the Capitol's pomade will keep my typical pompadour and not reveal my unkempt bedhead.

"Tycho!" Mayuri shouts. "You look amazing. Now, let's go."

I follow her out of my room. While she calls for the elevator, I slide on a pair of charcoal running shoes.

"I would have preferred to leave earlier," she says, "but if I did, I think you might've slept through all of training. Do you normally sleep this late?"

I hum between bites of my banana.

"We'll definitely need to work on that. I doubt that we'll be able to get much sleep in the arena." She sighs. "Apparently, the other Careers wanted to talk to us during the Tribute Parade, but we were back at the Remake Center. Cordelle thinks that they wanted to start strategizing."

I tense at the name.

Cordelle Vitka was the victor of last year's Hunger Games. She was supposed to be one of my mentors, but I begged the other victors from Four — Chrysa Mansueta and Emeric Devere — to keep her as far away from me as possible. Every time that I look at her, I'm reminded of the way that she heartlessly drowned Verne, a boy who was practically my brother. I recognize that it was part of last year's twist; however, I consider her inexcusable absence at his funeral and her insincere condolences to his family to be unforgivable offenses.

Four deserved a better victor than her. If only the escort selected me instead of Verne last year, I could've filled that role.

The elevator doors open, revealing The Boy and his district partner.

I choke on my banana.

"Are you alright?" Mayuri asks. "Should I go grab a bottled water?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine."

"Good." Mayuri smiles at the pair in the elevator. "I would say that he has a better gag reflex, but we haven't known each other for long. If he starts choking during lunch, I guess that we'll have our answer."

The Boy snorts.

My cheeks feel like they're ablaze.

I don't think today could get any worse.

Veira Faustus, 17
District 1 Female Tribute

When I first enrolled in Northeastern Elite Academy, I was required to take a course on the logistics of the Hunger Games. Most of the information was repetitive — everyone in One knows everything about the Games — but the last unit was enlightening. The instructor told us that, as Career tributes, we're often proactive in the arena, yet our survival is contingent upon our reactivity. If we aren't able to respond quickly to a life-threatening situation or an unexpected incident, we tarnish the reputation of the academy and the Careers as a whole.

I don't believe that reactions are entirely in-the-moment, though. I might not be able to control muttations or natural disasters or whatever the Gamemakers throw at us in the arena, but I can control my reactions to other tributes. If I know everything about my competition, nobody will be able to surprise me. I already memorized everyone's name on the train, but I will learn everything else I need to know throughout this week.

While Head Trainer Uphelia gives an opening speech about group training, I glance at my competitors.

As of this morning, Honoria from Two and Bryony from Seven have the highest odds of winning, yet I hesitate to label them as significant threats. Honoria may have been trained as a Career tribute for years, but if she chooses to ally with her illegitimate half-sister, she'll need to amend her strategy. Meanwhile, Bryony likely never prepared for the Games, so she's in the same position as every other non-Career tribute. Besides their biological father, the two don't seem to share any similarities; unless they learn how to work together these next few days, they'll barely make an impression in the arena.

In my opinion, Zephyrin from Five and Taneli from Ten are the most dangerous (non-Career) tributes. Based on their tall statures and muscular builds, I expect them to excel at melee combat. Once they grab a sword or a spear or a mace, they'll leave a trial of blood in their wake. If they form an alliance, they'd pose a serious threat to the Career pack. Fortunately, Taneli seems to be infatuated with his district partner, Laelia. I doubt that he'd ally with anyone else now that he and his girlfriend can both win.

Laelia, herself, poses no threat. Although her cousin is a victor, her obesity will jeopardized her chances of survival. She won't be able to outrun the more athletic tributes, and she'll need more food than the others to sustain herself. But with Taneli by her side, she'll just need to survive long enough for him to kill all the other tributes.

The only other tribute with a relation to a victor is the Arena Baby, Fresia Blodwyn from Eleven. Yet, I doubt that she'll do much in the arena. Her mother won the Games by having her boyfriend kill the other tributes and by receiving a lot of sponsoring gifts. (She didn't even kill anyone until the finale.) Unlike her mother and Laelia, the Arena Baby won't have a boyfriend in the arena to do her dirty work.

Without their Tribute Parade costumes, Lark and Kaia from Six look average and unremarkable, yet I hesitate to underestimate them. Last year, nobody in One expected Lark's brother — whose expertise with throwing knives was comparable to a trained Career's — to nearly win. Assuming Lark shares the same proficiency in weaponry, he could be unstoppable in the arena. But, if my allies and I prevent him from grabbing a weapon from the cornucopia, we could curtail his dangerousness before he becomes a threat.

Nadina from Eight, Farah from Nine, Makari from Eleven, and Isidore from Twelve have mediocre odds of winning (for non-Career tributes), but I assume that it's mostly due to their age than their actual potential. They all look like they've had rougher upbringings than the others, so they may be able to better adapt to the roughness of the arena. However, they likely have limited exposure to weaponry. They'll either be killed in the bloodbath or survive for a while, but I can't foresee any of them becoming a pressing threat.

Eulalia from Three and Juniper from Seven are already destined for death. The Gamemakers always ensure that no convicted criminal survives the arena. If another tribute doesn't kill them, either mutts will tear them apart or natural disasters will crush them until their bodies are unrecognizable. It's their way of enforcing that crime will not be tolerated in Panem.

Fortunately, they won't need to pull any of their tricks on Eulalia. As soon as we enter the arena, I will kill her for all of her rude remarks yesterday.

The remaining, non-Career tributes are negligible. Skagen from Three and Havan from Nine look like they come from wealthy families, so they won't be prepared for the tribulations in the arena. Emeri from Twelve looks like she can barely run with her prosthetic leg. Jenikka from Five likely cut her own hair after the Reaping — I can't imagine the stylists wanting it short for the Tribute Parade — so I predict that her impulsiveness will lead to her death. Similarly, Octavian from Eight looks like a temperamental child; paired with his youthfulness and frailty, he won't cause any harm. I doubt that any of them will survive the bloodbath.

My attention is drawn to Uphelia as she clasps her hands together.

"If you have any questions about any of the equipment, please talk to the instructors. An expert has been assigned to each station," she concludes. "You may now begin group training."

My eyes shift toward Honoria who's standing between her district partner and her illegitimate half-sister. In this moment, she must choose whether she'll follow in her father's footsteps and join the Careers, or if she'll remedy her father's mistake and abandon us.

She walks toward Bryony.

I clench my fist.

She may think that she made the better decision, but I will make her regret it. Her and Eulalia will be my first victims in the arena.

Bryony Linden, 17
District 7 Female Tribute

When I was a child, I begged my mother to get me a sister. Although my grandparents and my uncles were always around to take care of my unstable mother, my house felt empty and my life seemed lackluster. I didn't have any neighbors or cousins at the time, and the adults often kept their distance from me. (Years later, I found out it was because they were keeping a close eye on my mother, afraid that she would hurt me.) My life felt devoid of socialization and adventure, and I thought a sister would be a perfectly logical solution.

I never wanted Honoria as my sister, though.

She's not a bad person by any means, but our lives have been too different to feel any sort of attachment toward each other. I don't know anything about my biological father (except that he's a victor from Two), yet she has referenced him three times in the last minute. While she spent years training for the Games to follow in our father's footsteps, I had recurring nightmares of entering the arena and turning into my mother. Nobody would ever refer to us as compatible; I don't know why she chose to ally with me over the Careers.

"We should start with weaponry." Honoria points to the mostly-empty stations. "The Careers are starting with the compulsory exercises, but once they finish, I doubt that they'll spend much time away from the weapons."

"We shouldn't waste our time with weaponry," I counter. "I'm more than comfortable with axes, and I assume that you're familiar with a few weapons. But, I don't think either of us knows how to hunt for food or start a fire or make a shelter. We should focus on actual survival skills."

She blinks. "How will the others know that we're threats?"

"We don't want them to view us as threats. If we're threats, then we're targets."

"If we're threats, then they won't target us."

"The Careers will."

"The Careers were already going to." She sighs. "Veira, the girl from One, did not look happy when I walked over to you. We talked briefly at the Tribute Parade yesterday, and she was already strategizing about the Careers. She wanted us to have a united front as soon as training began. We — I — definitely put a dent in that plan."

I stare at her for a moment. "So… we already have five tributes targeting us? Because you alienated yourself from the Careers and allied with me?"

"Why are you upset about that?" She raises her brow. "Would you rather have six people targeting you?"

"They wouldn't be targeting me if it wasn't for you."

"They'd still be targeting you because you're related to a victor. I can guarantee that they'll target the boy from Five, the girl from Ten, and Arena Baby for the same reason."

"If we weren't allies and you joined the Careers, would you be targeting me?" I narrow my eyes. "Be honest."

"No," she scoffs. "We're sisters!"

"Half-sisters." It feels like an important distinction to make with the current state of our relationship. "But, you're missing my point. If you allied with the Careers, I wouldn't have a massive bullseye on my back. You could've told them not to target me."

"I wouldn't trust them. They'd probably kill you so I wouldn't betray them."

"Or, even better, you could've invited me to join the Careers," I continue. "Instead, you made the decision by yourself, knowing that the consequences would affect both of us."

She opens her mouth, but no words leave her throat.

"You didn't think about that, did you?"

"No," she begrudgingly admits with slumped shoulders. "Bryony… I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I take a deep breath to try to regain my composure. (It doesn't really work.) "For future reference, I don't like being abandoned in the woods."

She blinks. "What?"

"It's an idiom." I frown. Is my step-sister always this dense? "Just… don't make a decision behind my back if it'll also affect me."

"Oh… Noted."

"Good." I start to move toward the survival stations. "C'mon, let's find something to do. I feel like we're wasting valuable time."

A decent amount of tributes are already working on various survival skills. The girl from Five converses with an instructor about edible and poisonous plants, while the girl from Six listens from a distance. Another instructor offers a demonstration to the boys from Three, Nine, and Eleven on how to skin a squirrel. (Although the boy from Nine looks slightly green, the other two seem to be faring well.) The girl from Nine and the Arena Baby are learning how to start a fire. The girl from Twelve is trying to climb an artificial oak tree. (I'm impressed that she's able to get a few feet off the ground with her prosthetic leg.) Her district partner seems to be having a hushed conversation with an instructor, yet his eyes continue to glance around the open space.

I consider the usefulness of the available stations. Insect identification may help us secure more food in the arena, but edible plants and hunted game would offer more sustenance. Fish hooks would only be important if the arena is predominantly aquatic, and I doubt that the Gamemakers would give the Four tributes such a huge advantage. Although the hammock-making station is pointless, the general shelter-making station would be vital for our survival. Meanwhile, the mutt anatomy station could give us an advantage if the Gamemakers try to catch us unprepared and lure us toward other tributes.

Yet, my eyes seem to gravitate toward the knot-tying station. I hadn't previously considered the utility of knots in the arena, but I've seen tributes in past years tie themselves to tree branches to prevent them from falling to the ground in their sleep. If I could teach Honoria how to climb a tree, we might be able to skip the shelter-making station altogether and focus on other skills.

I turn toward my half-sister. "How familiar are you with knots?"

She shrugs. "I can tie my shoes. It shouldn't be too hard to master."

I withhold a sigh. Every word that comes out of her mouth makes me question her intelligence.

Jenikka Amias, 13
District 5 Female Tribute

I stare at the array of tree nuts and wild berries — the best source of sustenance in the arena — lying on the metal table. Under each fruit is a short description of its natural habitat and a picture of its respective flower, bush, or tree.

"If you need any assistance, please let me know," the instructor says. She hands me two stacks of labels. "But, this is meant to evaluate your ability to identify edible and poisonous plants, so try to complete as much as possible before you ask questions."

"Thank you."

I start by sniffing each of the tree nuts. According to the instructor, a scent of bitter almonds is the easiest indicator of cyanide in a tree nut. Some fruits do contain cyanogenic compounds in their seeds without producing the pungent smell (like cherries and apricots), but they're only dangerous if the person chews and crushes the seeds.

Using this pungency test, I manage to label three tree nuts as poisonous.

The instructor hums with approval.

A hickory nut is distinct for its hard shell surrounded by a woody husk, yet it is often confused with the similar (yet poisonous) buckeye nut. Most people differentiate the two by cracking open their shells and looking at their respective nut meat — a hickory nut looks like a walnut, whereas a buckeye nut looks like an almond — yet it's an inefficient method. Without the proper equipment, it's nearly impossible to get to the nut meat, and nobody wants to waste time and energy on a potentially poisonous nut (especially not in the arena).

Instead, I glance at the pictures underneath each nut. Hickories and buckeyes are both deciduous trees that are native to Panem, yet they are distinguishable by the arrangement of their leaves. A hickory tree has pinnately-compounded leaves, meaning its leaflets grow on either side of its central stalk. In contrast, a buckeye tree has palmately-compounded leaves, meaning its leaflets only extend from the end of its petiole. Undoubtedly, there must be other minuscule differences between the trees, but it's the easiest detail for me to remember without actually memorizing every species in the genus Carya.

I label the six variants of hickory nuts on the table as edible (even if some are more palatable than others), and the lone buckeye nut as poisonous.

Once I identify the buckeye nut, it's easy to distinguish the (poisonous) horse chestnuts from the (edible) sweet chestnuts. Horse chestnuts and buckeyes belong to the genus Castanea, so their trees and shrubs are more similar than the unrelated sweet chestnut. Even without the comparison, a horse chestnut has a green burr surrounded in short spikes, whereas a sweet chestnut has brown burr surrounded in long spikes. When the burrs are opened, a horse chestnut contains a single, round nut and a sweet chestnut contains a couple, triangular nuts.

I continue to label the remaining nuts with ease. The edible ones either have a veiny appearance or are identical to the ones that I've seen at the grocery store. Meanwhile, the poisonous ones have a minuscule, black dot near the top of its nutshell, a characteristic that's only visible on a genetically-modified fruit from the Capitol. (And the Capitol has never modified a plant to be edible.)

"All the tree nuts are correctly labeled," the instructor comments. "Do you have an interest in botany?"

"Not particularly." I shrug. "I'm more interested in math and literature. But, my oldest brother is pursuing a biology degree, and I often help him study. It's how I remembered the scientific classification for each nut."

"He must've taught you some great study techniques."

"Not really." I frown. "Our minds work differently. He uses a lot of mnemonics to consolidate his knowledge; I just seem to memorize whatever I focus on."

She raises a brow. "Do you have a photographic memory?"

"Photographic memory is a hoax." I snort. "Every researcher who has ever tried to prove its existence has been criticized either for designing a faulty study, for falsifying their results, or for exaggerating their claims."

"A lack of evidence doesn't mean that it's a hoax."

I shrug. "It's hard to call something a fact unless it can be proven."

"Interesting perspective." She rubs her chin with her fingers. "Anyway, I apologize for distracting you; it's been years since I've had an intellectual conversation with someone besides my sister. You can continue working on the assessment."

I nod.

In my opinion, the wild berries are significantly easier to differentiate between edible and poisonous than the tree nuts. White, yellow, and green berries are considered toxic to humans with minimal exceptions: the creeping snowberry, the white blackberry, the goldenberry, and the gooseberry. In contrast, most blue and black berries are edible, especially if they grow in tightly packed clusters.

I take a moment to double check that I correctly identified the edible blueberry from its poisonous doppelgängers, including the belladonna, the black nightshade, and the nightlock. Unlike common blueberries, belladonnas are borne singly with a five-pointed foliage near its pedicel and black nightshades lack flared crowns at their ends. Although nightlock berries were designed to imitate a blueberry's appearance and scent, its calyx is slightly different due to its genetic relation to the belladonna.

An array of red berries and aggregate berries remain unlabeled, but I assign them as edible or poisonous with ease. Four of the eight red berries on the table are poisonous: the bush honeysuckle, the holly berry, the bittersweet nightshade, and the red baneberry. Meanwhile, all of the aggregate berries are edible. There's only one type of poisonous aggregate berry — the goldenseal — yet it wasn't even included in the assessment.

I turn to the instructor.

"All of the berries are labeled correctly." She side-eyes me. "Are you still adamantly opposed to the legitimacy of photographic memory?"

"Yes."

She hums. "This may be an unexpected question: Would you mind teaching another tribute about plant identification? My methods haven't been effective, but I think she would benefit with your approach."

I tense.

In my experience, no teenager appreciates being taught or corrected by a young person. Even the purest attempts are often construed as belittling insults. My parents once transferred me into a class with older children, and it was the worst year of my life. Every time that I answered the teacher's question correctly, the other students stared at me with disgust. Yet, if I answered anything incorrectly, they scoffed at me like I didn't deserve to be in their presence. It seemed like I could never do anything to please them.

"It's ultimately your choice," the instructor continues. "But, I think that it would be mutually beneficial. She might be able to teach you something in return."

"Um… who is it?"

"Just the girl from Six." She points at a nearby girl with auburn hair. I feel slightly relieved that she's only a year or two older than me. "Honestly, I wouldn't be too worried about her; nobody is viewing her as an actual threat."

"Oh… um… okay."

"Great!" She smiles. "I think you two would be perfect allies."

"Allies?"

End of Chapter 14.

Author Note: Thank you for reading this chapter! Because I'm having each tribute's first POV in the Capitol be 1,000+ words, I will be splitting each day of training into two chapters (except for the third day, which is already a half-day). I think this approach would be a lot easier to digest than 8,000+ word chapters.

Anyway, I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I have no botanical knowledge, so Jenikka's POV took a lot of research. If anyone notices that I described a tree nut or wild berry incorrectly, please let me know!

Next Chapter: Considerations (Training Day 1, Part 2)