Chapter 5

The elevators, it turns out, took us below ground level for that is where the actual training rooms are located. To judge from the tribute circle formed, just about every other district has arrived already. Stepping into what can only be described as a giant gymnasium, we're pinned on our shirt a cloth with the number 12 on it. The other tributes have their district number displayed visibly too. We join the circle as the young head trainer, Atala, goes through the rules and training schedule. There are different stations in which an expert in that field will be situated. We're free to go to any station we so choose, in accordance with our mentor's direction. Several stations specialises in survival skills, while fighting techniques at others. Any engagement of combative exercises with another tribute is prohibited. That's what assistants are for.

As the names of skill stations available are being read, it becomes increasingly harder not to take notice of the others around the circle. Upon reflection I realise that's exactly what needs to be done. Know your opponents. Know their strengths and weaknesses, their way of thinking. Then you'll be able to predict their next move, I can practically hear Konrad saying once more.

Just as during the recap of the reaping and opening ceremonies, I'm struck by the sheer number of tributes. Seeing something on screen and seeing something before your eyes are two different things though. It suddenly becomes so real now. Though not as strong-looking, most of the older boys are of a height with Adam. The only ones that dwarf even him are the Careers. A single glimpse at the brothers from district 7 and my thoughts automatically go to Meredith and Jasmine. Only now does it occur to me just how fortunate we are. Wendy could have easily read one of our names and then the other. Then it would've been either Meredith or Jasmine here with me. Not Evelyn. Automatically I look over at her just to make certain that neither my sister nor best friend is here. Evelyn is so small compared to even the other females gathered here. Of course there are other younger girls but the majority are older. Many appear even more malnourished than me, though certainly no shorter. Naturally the female Careers are no less intimidating than their male counterparts. Up close the girl from District One that Evelyn admitted to being scared of looks just as threatening. I've no doubt these Career girls know somewhere between twenty different ways to kill with a knife.

My theory is proven right when, just as we're dismissed, they congregate around the lethal-looking weapons, handling them as though they were born to wield it. Curiously, the girl from 1 chooses the big, heavy axe, which is something one would justifiably expect of someone from 7. She's using her left hand. The girl must be short-sighted for she only attacks the dummy at a close range, never letting go of her formidable weapon.

A hand appears in front of me and fingers snap sharply, as though calling me back from hypnosis.

"What?" I snap mildly, before realising who the culprit is. "Haymitch?" My features change from hard to bewilderment.

He leans in close so as not to be overheard, though by now everyone have scattered amongst the training room already. "Analyse them all you want. But at least be inconspicuous about it, Donner."

As though drawn by his words, a tribute from 2 looks over at us. He flashes an arrogant smirk before elbowing his partner. The partner crosses her arm over her chest, the small throwing axe in her hand glinting menacingly. Refusing to cower under their mocking grins, I lift my chin defiantly in their direction, daring them to do their worst. The boy hawks, turns to his right, and spits, whist the girl shifts her position so that one hand is placed on her hips, the other tossing the axe carelessly yet catching it deftly. It's then that her partner notices something and shakes his head. He places a hand on her shoulder before saying something in her ear, his eyes darting from our direction to something behind us. Leave them be for now. They're not worth our acknowledgement, they seemed to say. The girl's gaze follows where her partner's keeps looking before reluctantly nodding her head, turning away, and throwing the axe right on the bullseyes. Turning in the direction the two from 2 were looking at reveals what caused them to back off. Up in the elevated stands bordering the gymnasium, twenty men and women dressed in purple robes gaze down on the tributes. The Gamemakers have arrived. I am in the process of pointing as much out to Haymitch but realise he's halfway to the rope-climbing station already. Looking down I realise my hands are shaking slightly. What a terrible habit, I mentally chide, making my way to the edible plants station. Seeing as it has been almost completely neglected by the other tributes, identifying plants that are safe and which are not safe to eat seems most appealing by far. Once I'm relatively pleased with the result of the edible plants test, my next stop is camouflage, where the next hour and a half is dedicated to improving my art skills. Or so it seems to me. Nonetheless, the instructor there is extremely nice and gives really useful tips.

It is the instructor at camouflage that informs me that lunch is being served at the dining hall off the gymnasium. Lunch is placed around the room on carts, where tributes serve themselves. The tributes are mainly scattered around, trying to remain obscure. After getting several choice items off a couple of carts, I find a vacant table, where my observation is able to continue without any disturbance. The Careers of 1, 2, and 4 join enough tables together to accommodate their large number. They chatter raucously or leer at passing tributes, evidently intimidating everyone else not in their exclusive group. Evelyn is a few tables away, with two of the younger District 11 tributes with her. They have the typical dark skin and golden-brown eyes of those from 11. Years of watching the Games have exposed us to the physical differences of the other districts, so it's easy to distinguish even without the numbered cloths. Adam is at another table, along with some tributes from 5, 7, and 10. Including Adam, that table is surrounded by six tributes. I chew my bottom lip. Alliances may be forming already, and here I am sitting without a single acquaintance.

And Haymitch is nowhere to be seen.

After lunch its back to the gymnasium, where the afternoon is spent learning to decipher maps, start fires, tie knots, make snares, and generally avoiding while discreetly analysing the other tributes. A few glances every now and then in their direction confirm that the Gamemakers are here from the start of our training session until the end of it. Chances are that they will be here once more tomorrow, which is partly the reason why my main focus for the next day will be on weapons.

Dinner is held back on our level of the twelfth floor, to my immense relief. Konrad instantly asks us about our training session and what went on down there. We take turns recounting our training schedule, stopping every now and then when our mentor has some useful advice to share, with Wendy attempting to contribute to the conversation. When there has been nothing but several minutes of silent eating, I turn towards Konrad. "How do you propose on getting us sponsorship?"

It is the mentor and escort's task to gather sponsors from the Capitol for their tributes. These sponsors give their sponsorship in the form of money, which is used on donations that can range from medicine to food to just about anything, within reason. Districts are able to show their support too, with families and friends donating money in the hopes of helping their loved ones.

I'm particularly interested in our mentor's response seeing how it will be he who seals sponsorship deals.

Konrad considers this question for a moment before answering. "First thing you need to know is that sponsors determine which tributes are worth wagering money on based on their first impression at the opening ceremonies, training scores, impression in the interviews, performance in the arena, as well as other determining factors."

I exhale in exasperation. "Fantastic. And we've already established the extent to which we impressed the Capitol during the opening ceremonies. We're doomed."

"Not necessarily. Don't forget that there are still the training scores and interviews to be determined," Konrad consoles.

With new resolve, the first station I try out the next day is archery, where the best part of an hour passes before an arrow even makes a solid landing on the target.

The second day smoothly follows the routine of the first, with the exception of the small conversation in the elevator on the way down to the training area.

Evelyn had pointed at my shirt. "Why do you wear that pin?" Looking downwards, I noted the pin there. I've taken to wearing it everywhere that I don't even recall pinning it on anymore.

"The pin is my district token that has been in my family for generations."

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you. Do you know what type of bird it is?"

"It's a mockingjay."

"Right. A mutt accidently created by the Capitol during the rebellion. Animals became nothing but experiments to the Capitol in the attempt to win the war against their adversaries."

"Like the jabberjays birds used to record entire conversations. They were used by the Capitol to memorise and repeat all information of the rebel forces. Only the rebels soon found out and started misinforming the Capitol."

"Precisely, and so, being a solely male species, they were left in the wild to die off. Only they didn't. The jabberjays ultimately mated with female mockingbirds, thus creating an entirely new species known as mockingjays. Although no longer able to enunciate words, they're capable of imitating both bird whistles and human melodies."

"Really? Human melodies too?"

"Absolutely, mockingjays can also be heard emulating human voice ranges."

The archery instructor repositions my body and advises me to release the arrow. It lands as close to the centre of the target as it's ever like to get. I allow a satisfied smile. It is most definitely an improvement. The instructor seems to think so too, complimenting my determination and ability to quickly adapt to learning new skills. Thanking her, I replace the bow before moving off to learn rope-climbing. Learning different climbing techniques, I'm soon able to scale up the rope with ease, albeit a little breathlessly.

That afternoon, knife-throwing is on the agenda, with the Careers now over at the wrestling station. Axe wielding, throwing and making spears, then lifting weights follow after knife-throwing until it's time to head back to our floor.

Dinner is more or less the same as the previous night, with each of us relating our day once more. Then Konrad is reminding us that tomorrow afternoon will be our private session with the Gamemakers. Surprisingly, he does not dictate us on what to do tomorrow, doesn't even ask us what we're planning on doing for our private session.

We're dismissed after supper and I find myself staring at the staircase off to the side of the hall.

"You thinking of exploring the roof?" Konrad seemingly materialises out of nowhere.

"So that's where those flight of stairs lead to. We're permitted up there?"

"Of course, why wouldn't you be allowed?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Aren't they afraid a tribute might try to, you know, end it by jumping off the roof?"

It is a surprise to see Konrad smiling so grimly. "That's not possible." He continues at my perplexed expression. "You'll understand if you go up there and see for yourself." Without further explanation, he disappears quietly into his room before shutting the door.

Walking up the stairs, I'm hoping to see what Konrad is referring to as well as him. He's been going up there the last couple of nights after supper, thinking no one notices. But I do. Ever since first seeing him climb those stairs several nights ago, curiosity has been eating at me as to what he does up there.

The roof is completely empty. I lean against the railing and look down, a pleasant breeze rustling my hair.

The streets below are a chaos of noise as bizarre people in even stranger attire go about their virtually meaningless lives under a glittering sky of stars. And just above that noise a tiny humming sound. Really focusing on the scenery, something doesn't seem right. Everything below appears distorted slightly.

Staring at those I loathe, I find a small pebble in a plot pant and hurl it over the edge in a fit of blind rage. There is a zap sound, and suddenly something is flying back towards the building. Quickly getting out of its range, the pebble narrowly misses hitting me. Starting uncomprehendingly at the ammunition, it takes several long minutes to formulate two words: force field.

This causes a scowl to appear on my face. Small wonder no one bothers to stop any tributes from coming up here, I think bitterly.

Turning my back on the scene of the Capitol city, I lean my back against the railing, reflecting on what I've just learnt here. Inevitably my mind wanders to the Gamemakers tomorrow and the private session we are to have with them. The beginning of panic starts as I continue thinking of what to show them and come up completely empty. No matter what comes to mind, nothing feels good enough to impress the Gamemakers into giving me a good score. And here Konrad said that training scores is yet another factor that potential sponsors are particularly interested in. At the thought of him I consider asking Konrad for his advice before realising there's probably nothing he could say or do that'll help anyway, as comforting as it would be seeking out Konrad's advice.

After several more minutes of futile worrying and stress I decide to call it a night. As least this night wasn't a complete waste of time. There is the recent discovery of the Capitol force field.

Through the door the stairwell is pitch black, where before small flickering lanterns were lit along the walls, illuminating the path. Just an indication as to how long I've been out on the roof for. I yawn into the back of my hand.

Yet another indication of the late hour.

Groping tightly on the icy-cold handlebars I cautiously make my way down the hazardous stairs.

Unsurprisingly the empty hall is in complete and utter darkness too. Without bothering to wait for my eyes to adjust to the pitch darkness, I guide myself along the rough wall, and feel like a blind person until finally making it to the door.

Entering the bedchamber my eyes are almost immediately drawn to the warm-looking bed in the far corner of the room. A shiver runs through my exhausted body before I realise just how cold outside had been, the wind cutting right through my thin shirt.

Dragging my heavy legs quietly across the soft carpet, I sit on the bed, taking off my shoes. I then all but collapse onto the feather-soft bed before hastily crawling under the comfortable blankets. Within mere minutes I'm fast asleep, oblivious of the fact that off to the bathroom the shower is running.