"You were fabulous- everybody loved you! Come now, let's go to your floor!" Petalla exclaims, clapping her hands together. The wild applause was for District Twelve; she knows that, right?
One of the elevators open and we, along with some other tributes, pile into the small space. Petalla swiftly taps a silver button with the number '5' engraved on it. The elevator shoots upwards, and I stare through the crystal floor as the people below me shrink into nothing. It's a weird sensation; I hardly feel anything. We stop only once to let off the tributes from Four and before I know it we're at the fifth floor. The metallic doors soundlessly slide open to an astoundingly large space. Well, if we're going to be dead in a week at most, might as well spend our time in luxury, right?
Beneath my feet, the carpet is soft and rich. I kick off my sparkly platform boots to ultimately indulge in it. The dining table stands proudly, already stocked high with delicacies that could keep an Industrial family going for a week. Small cakes and coloured jellies in any colour you could imagine; pink, blue, yellow, green. Large, abstract chandelier lights hang over our heads and cast a soft glow over the room. Through tall, floor-length windows, a breathtaking view of the Capitol makes the interior glow with the colourful external light. Even at night the city is full of light and life. Tonight, everybody was celebrating.
"We're staying here?" I say in disbelief. Buttering us up before they send us for slaughter, right?
"Yes, and it's all at your disposal!" Petalla chirps, plucking a strawberry from the table of delicacies. She bites down into it. "Eat what you want, wear what you want." She hesitates before quickly adding, "Enjoy it."
I turn back to the window. The houses are soft pastel shades of orange, pink and yellow with plush grass that seems too green to be realistic. A fountain in a park spurts water into a deep, pebbly pool. What would Tyde think about this whole thing? He'd probably think it was pretentious, a way for the Capitol to rub it in our faces that we have worked so hard just for this to be at their disposal. Petalla interrupts my admiration by abruptly grasping my hand and leading me down a hall.
"Isn't it just gorgeous?" Petalla gushes dreamily, pushing open a door. "This is your room. Jayson is across the hall, and Vincent and Helena are down the end."
She picks up a small control pad before turning to face the window. She presses a button and suddenly the view of the Capitol is switched out for that of a pebbly beach. "They have one for each district. Would you like me to...?"
I nod sceptically as she flicks through the scenery, before coming to a halt on what could be nothing but a view of District Five. The smoke rises from the power plants seen in the distance in the Industrials and in the foreground, the tiny people trudge through narrow streets going about their business. They had obviously filmed this footage in the Dispatchment, where everything was a little bit nicer. Of course they would.
"Turn it off." I say, merely a whisper.
"I'm sorry, I just thought-" Petalla begins, flustered.
"It's okay." I try for an appreciative smile. She really is trying to make it as bearable as possible for me. I acknowledge that.
That night, I can hardly sleep, despite the insane comfort of the bed. I stare out the floor-length window for hours on end, watching sleek cars roll down smooth paved roads. Ahead of us is three days of training with the other tributes. Then we all have private training sessions to determine our training score and odds of winning the Games.
.
The Training Centre is a large complex for the tributes to train skills in before they enter the Games. The Game-makers observe us from a rich compartment embedded in the wall. This morning Cyren and Avia had woken us up early to get us ready for training. I was wearing a dark green short sleeved shirt and black skin-tight pants. Easy to move around in.
A '5' on a piece of cloth is pinned to my back so they know what district I'm from.
I wander unsurely to each survival station, like the training leader, Atala, urged us not to ignore. I learn how to light a fire from numerous things in different situations, tie basic knots and perform first-aid on myself. I scale the climbing frames and climb back down. At least I had the advantage of agility, even though I try not to show it too much. It's only best to let them underestimate me. Looking at some of the other tributes, like the huge hulking boy from Two, I think that maybe I could outrun them if I had to. But what is climbing against a sword?
A large screen catches my eye. Black plants on a white screen. I touch the pad beneath the screen with my fingertips, effortlessly completing the station. The style of the station is to identify edible plants from non-edible plants. I think it is relatively easy, but now I have the need to face my biggest complication. Combat skills. I pick up a knife; short, but with a deadly curve at the end. The trainer at the station comes over quickly, helping me hold it properly.
I can't help but notice how wrong it feels in my grip. I would never have the ability to kill a real human being. A person with a name, a family, a life story. I set the knife down again in the metal frame when the trainer moves onto someone else. I head over to the knot-tying station; best to stay in my own lane, right?
Glancing over at the tributes from District One, Two and Four, I almost feel like throwing up. Some of the districts called them the Careers, including us in Five. They train their whole life for these Games, and the strongest among them volunteer. They form an alliance in the games to pick off the weaker tributes before the fun really begins.
A blonde boy from One throws a spear twenty metres into the heart of a dummy with ridiculous accuracy. The District Two pair cut hearts and heads effortlessly, definitely fatal wounds if they were real opponents. They exchange a smug glance. That is all it takes to direct my view back to my slender legs and diminish all hope of surviving the Hunger Games.
At lunch, we're served huge portions of meat and vegetables. Naturally, the Careers sit together, scarfing down their meals and laughing way too loudly. I hear them talking about recruiting the boy from Eleven.
I sit with Jayson, unsure if I'd be welcome to sit anywhere else. Probably not. Across from him are two tributes that I remember nothing about.
"Hey, Finch." He says, shoving a forkful of peas into his mouth. He points his fork at the two tributes across from him. "This is Demetria, and Rye. They're from District Nine."
I smile at them shyly, sliding in beside Jayson. "Hi."
Demetria smiles back at me. She seems to be fourteen at most. Her hair is red too, like mine; she looked like she would be an Industrial kid if she lived in Five with hair like that. "So, Rye and I were wondering if you guys would like to ally? I mean, we'd live longer with more of us."
I bite my lip. We were all bloodbath tributes. How was she even thinking we would live long enough to ally? "Yes, okay."
Demetria's face lights up. "So you're Jayson's district partner? District Five⦠power, right?"
We talk about life in our districts a while. It's nice to learn about another district through somebody who actually lives there first hand. Lived. Not the lies the Capitol tells us. Both of their parents worked in grain mills, and them in the fields with the rest of the children.
Jayson and I tell them about life in Five.
"So you get all the electricity you want? That's so cool. We hardly get any back home."
I'm shocked, and Jayson laughs. "Oh, no, it all goes straight to the Capitol."
"Same with our grain, but we do seem to eat a lot more bread than anything else. It's good to try something else, you know."
We're quiet for a moment, knowing that what Demetria says now has an ill consequence for us soon.
x x
