Knots
I wake up the next morning with a groan, confused for a moment about where I am, and wondering why the sheets beneath my body aren't coarse and scratchy like the one's I'm used to back at the Home. Someone is banging loudly on my door and I press my ears to my hands for a brief second as I reflect on the fact that the screeching is in tones too high to belong to Matron.
"Nerine, training starts in less than an hour, and you still need to eat breakfast."
Training? My mind struggles for a moment to comprehend what's going on, but as I force myself to glance around the room everything comes back to me in a sudden rush of emotion, and I want nothing more than to just lie back down, pull the covers over my head and pretend as though none of this is happening. Unfortunately though, the thudding against my door continues and I realise that this isn't something that I can just crawl away and hide from. Whether I go to training or not, they're still going to chuck me into that arena, so I might as well at least go and prepare myself for it.
With these thoughts in mind, I push myself upright and call out, "I'm just coming!" and proceed to rifle through the wardrobe to find something that I can easily throw on. It's a shame that I don't have time to use the shower again; I had tried it yesterday, and it had taken me almost an hour to find a button to spray myself with something resembling just normal, clear water. However, I had had quite a lot of fun pressing the array of buttons and submersing myself in different colours and scents. Not that I'd admit that to anyone else though – that I actually enjoyed something that the Capitol has to offer.
I snatch a dark blue t-shirt from a hanger and grab a pair of black leggings from one of the drawers that I had thrown open yesterday in my search for something to wear to bed. I throw them on quickly, shove my feet into a pair of leather boots, and sweep my hair back into a ponytail before darting out of the room.
I enter the dining room to find the others already gathered around the table and I try to avoid looking at Caspian as I examine the buffet with disinterest; I don't think serving us fancy food makes up for the fact that we have to go into the Hunger Games. You know, it might sound strange, but somehow I would rather have the familiar brown mush of the Community Home, and not be risking my life.
I reach out and pour myself a cup of orange juice – I had tried it on the train, and never had anything with so much flavour in it before. So, I might complain about the food and try and act as though I have principles, but I'm not really planning on turning a feast like this down. It doesn't mean that I've changed my mind about the Capitol, it just means that I'm hungry.
As I fill up my plate, I keep my back to the others at the table, and dread the moment when I'll actually have to sit down and be expected to join in with their conversation. It's Caspian's fault, really – he had tried to compliment me yesterday after the opening ceremony yesterday, and I don't react very well to compliments, particularly not from someone who is, essentially, a perfect stranger. I know it was just a perfunctory comment about my dress, but still, I hadn't appreciated it. And then for some reason I had found myself flushing, which had just made me even angrier, and I certainly don't think I'll be able to look him in the eye after the things I had said.
I take seat with a sigh and glance up awkwardly to find Caspian watching me with a slight smile on his face. I take a few mouthfuls, but his eyes don't move from my face so eventually I find myself raising my head, and snapping in annoyance, "what?" I demand after swallowing a piece of toast.
He shakes his head, "I just wanted to reassure you that I won't be paying you anymore compliments," he says, the smile still playing on his mouth, and I bite down on my lip tightly to keep myself from reacting to his words. "I've learned my lesson."
"What did you do?" Stelson suddenly bursts out loudly, leaning towards us with an interested expression on his face and his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Stelson," I mutter warningly, using the voice that normally scares him away, but this time has no affect on him.
"Because Neri really doesn't appreciate it when people say nice things about her. Once I told her that her hair looked nice, and she whacked me in the face."
"Only because I had already asked you about five times to leave me alone," I mutter under my breath, trying not to rise to it, but already feeling my temper nearing the surface. I don't understand why they have to mock the fact that I don't like compliments – it just makes me feel uncomfortable, and I absolutely despise feeling like that. In my eyes, needing to rely on other people to tell you that you look nice is a sign of weakness, and weakness is something that I cannot afford to feel, particularly not now. That's something that it would do Stelson some good to learn.
"Really?" Caspian asks, his voice filled with amusement.
"Yep, and there was one time when-" I whip my head up and shoot a glare at Stelson over the table, and Cordula wisely chooses that moment to intervene and bring Stelson back to reality.
"Anyway, you both know the plan for today's session?" she asks, fixing us both with her grey eyes in turn and we both immediately decide to focus our attention back on breakfast.
"Yes, we know," I say shortly, not wanting to talk about this anymore. What we have to do is common sense anyway – integrate ourselves into the traditional alliance and try to learn as much about the other four tributes as we can. As well as keeping an eye open on anyone from a poorer district who might have unexpected talents.
"Nerine?" my thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Cookie, who tosses her blue hair and fixes me with an annoyed look. What have I done now?
"Yes?" I mutter in reply, preparing myself for another one of her lectures.
"Are you going to do something with your hair before you go down?" She asks, curling her lip slightly as she takes in my appearance and anger flames within me.
I raise my eyebrows and trying, trying to adopt a mockingly polite tone ask, "What's wrong with my hair?"
"You'll only have to look in a mirror to work that one out," she tells me, almost viciously, and I look over at her incredulously.
"Excuse me?" I demand, ignoring the warning glance that Cordula shoots me and deciding to unleash my anger onto Cookie, my pride still bridling at her insults. "I'm sorry that we aren't all as cultured as you – you see, I'm just incapable of doing-"
"That's enough, Nerine," Cordula starts talking over me, her voice cutting smoothly over my rant and leaving me just as annoyed with her as I feel with Cookie.
"I always expect far more sophisticated tributes from District 4," Cookie says with a long suffering sigh, "but I'm just as disappointed now as I was last year. Perhaps my promotion wasn't a positive thing after all." With this she sweeps from the room with a derisive sniff in my direction and Stelson releases a weak chuckle. I open my mouth, wanting to yell something after her to make her feel bad for what she had said, but Cordula flashes me that look again and I clamp my lips together. It's not like she would care anyway.
"I can see I've got my hands full with you," she says and rises from her chair, following Cookie out of the door.
I bite my lip, but don't allow myself to feel guilty about what just happened. It's not in my nature to just sit there and take insults from people who don't even know what they're talking about. It's an attitude that always used to get me into trouble at school, before I learned that flying off your handle at the smallest thing that someone says rarely achieves anything, and just makes you look stupid and increases people's perceptions that you're just a little orphan girl who isn't worth a damn.
I'm actually quite annoyed that she had managed to produce such a reaction from me when I shouldn't care less about anything that she says or does.
"You don't like compliments, but you don't like insults either. So, what do you like Neri?" Caspian asks, the teasing light returned once more to his eyes.
"I like nothings, "I retort impatiently, trying to shovel the last mouthfuls of my breakfast into my mouth as I speak, "just don't make any comment about my appearance at all."
He shrugs, "sure," and just like that the strange sadness has returned to his eyes and his whole body seems to sag slightly. I sigh slightly at the recognition that this is what winning the Hunger Games does to people. It doesn't make my future look very bright – I can either be brutally murdered by some sadistic teenager or turn into a shell of the person that I am now. That's just fucking fantastic.
"I suppose I should go sort out my hair, or Cookie might throw something at me," I mutter, and I pick up my glass and drain the rest of my juice before leaving the room without allowing myself to look at Caspian once.
After I've fixed my hair, and Cordula has forced me to apologise to Cookie (though my hand itches to hit when I don't receive one in response) she leads Stelson and I over to the lift. According to Cordula and Caspian, it's tradition for tributes planning to enter the Alliance to go down to training earlier. Something about a display of dominance in front of the other tributes, but I'm worried about Stelson – dominating is certainly not a word that springs to mind when I think of him.
The lift surges downwards, and the doors slide open before I've even had a chance to prepare myself for meeting the other tributes, and the ones who will essentially be my biggest competition once we get into the arena.
I take in the sight of the training hall as I step out of the life, closely followed by Stelson. It's a massive place with a sweeping wooden floors and a ceiling that looks high enough to be sky. Our footsteps echo weirdly across the room as Stelson and I make our way to the centre of the room, where two other tributes already stand, surrounded by a mass of various stands offering to teach us different skills.
As we near the other two tributes, I stiffen slightly as I realise that they are the pair from District 2 and are eyeing us with hostility. I half want to ignore them, and refuse to join the Alliance if they're going to be part of it, because they are huge, and hulking, and completely terrifying. But I'm aware that I won't last very long if they see me as their enemy right from the very start.
I nod in their direction as I finally come to a stop, and a Capitol attendant brandishes a piece of cloth adorned with the number four, and proceeds to pin it onto the back of my t-shirt. Another one pins a number onto Stelson as well, and I shift awkwardly as silence falls on the training hall I try not to squirm under the glares from District 2.
The girl is massively tall and wearing a top that it's clear she knows will show off the vast bulky muscles on her arms. She watches me with a pair of dark eyes that I can barely make out beneath her dark fringe, and even as I watch her she folds her arms tightly across her chest, making her muscles stand out even more underneath her pale skin. I resist the urge to look down at my own arms, and compare the size of them with hers. I have the feeling it might get me down somewhat. What really bothers me though, is the way that she stands – poised on her tiptoes with a readiness that makes me feel edgy around her. As though she's constantly waiting to attack someone. And right now I would be in her direct line should she choose to fight someone.
If it's possible, the boy is even more intimidating than the girl. He's the kind of guy that Mai would have been obsessed with had we encountered him back home – he's handsome in the traditional sense of the word, with a strong jaw and chiselled cheekbones, and even though I try to suppress the feeling, I can't help but compare him to Caspian. I shake my head and force myself to sum him up just as I had done the girl – he has broad shoulders and a wide stance that makes him seem even bigger than he really is. He's obviously been trained well in how to scare the other tributes; it seems as though he knows exactly what he's doing. He pushes a strand of blond hair out of his face and takes a smooth step towards me.
"Lucius," he says evenly and there's a moment when I almost expect him to hold out his hand for me to shake like everyone else that I have met recently.
"Nerine," I say in response, proud of myself for managing to keep the tremble out of my tone.
Lucius turns expectantly towards Stelson, and I see that same derisive look on his face that Emelda had sent in his direction yesterday. "Stelson," he manages to say, and I almost sigh in relief with the fact that his voice doesn't squeak in terror, or anything else stupid like that.
I glance back over at the girl who shakes her head slightly, and smiles slightly viciously in our direction. "Cassia," she says loudly, her voice ringing out through the hall and I nod in response to her. "Are you in or out?" she suddenly demands, and I feel slightly taken aback at the question – the way Cordula had spoken about the alliance, it sounded as though it normally wasn't decided officially until the last day of training, in order to give the tributes the chance to weigh up their options. But this strategy is far more efficient, because I get the feeling that if I say I'm in now, and then change my mind before we enter the arena, I'll be one of the first tributes on their kill list. They've got us backed into a corner, and I know that we only really have on choice.
"We're in," I say, glancing at Stelson sharply as I speak in the hope that he won't come out with something daft.
"Good," Lucius says and we lapse once more back into silence until District 1 appears in the lift about five minutes later.
Emelda immediately bounds over to us, leaving her partner to glare sulkily at the four of us and begin stomping his way across the room behind her.
"It's good to see you again, Neri," she nods in my direction with a wide smile as one of the attendants pins the number onto her, and I have to press my lips together tightly to stop myself from returning it, "Lucius. Oh, and Stelson." I narrow my eyes at the fact that she tacked him on at the end, as though he was an afterthought, and somehow doesn't matter as much as the rest of us. There's something about this girl that I like – but I hate her attitude towards Stelson. But then I suppose it's no different to the way in which I have always treated him. I sigh, and squeeze his shoulder briefly when Emelda turns away to introduce herself to Cassia and so no one is watching.
The boy from One reaches the group and shoves his hands straight into his pockets without making eye contact with any of us while a number is pinned onto his back. He's just as tall as Cassia, and lean - but I can tell that he's had training from the way he flexes his muscles slightly as he stands. "This is Tamir," Emelda says, spinning back around so that we all stand in a circle, facing each other. It makes me feel extremely exposed and I can tell from the way that Stelson is shifting his weight uncomfortably that he feels the exact same way as I do.
We all say our names once more, and Tamir merely grunts in response to each one. "I'm assuming that everyone is in the alliance?" Lucius demands as silence falls upon us.
"That's why we're here early, isn't it?" I question in response, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my tone, but not quite sure if I've succeeded as his eyes narrow slightly in response to my words.
"We need to know where we stand," he points out, clearly determined to take control of the situation.
Everyone nods, and I just find myself shrugging my shoulders; I've already agreed to enter the Alliance so I don't particularly see the point in confirming it again. "Good," Emelda says brightly, "we've gotten that out of the way. So, how old is everyone?"
The conversation remains awkward and overly structured as we each take turns in declaring our age round the circle. Emelda is 17, like me, which she declares is the perfect age to enter the Hunger Games. I choose not to question her about why this is – because I know that she has no real reason – but I return her high-five, albeit half-heartedly, when I tell her that I am the same age. Cassia is 15, despite the fact that she easily looks much older, while Lucius reveals that he is also 17, which also earns him a high-five from Emelda. Finally, Tamir, in the first time that I ever heard him speak, says that he is 18 – no surprise there then. And I sigh at the fact that Stelson is the youngest – yet another reason to single him out as a victim in their eyes.
As the conversation lulls, Cassia turns towards me, "your mother is Marina Leith, isn't she? Victor of the 53rd Games?"
I grimace slightly as she asks me this – I know it sounds stupid, but I had hoped that no one would actually bring it up. Talking about my mother brings back all kinds of emotions that I've been trying to suppress ever since I was eleven years old, and made the decision not to go to her funeral, and try to push all memories of her from my mind. Although her name doesn't instantly evoke hatred anymore, as it had always done in the past, it still isn't a particularly pleasant topic for me. I realise that I can't let them become aware of how much the subject of my mother bothers me, because they'll all instantly remember it as one of my weaknesses, and use it against me later. I know how this alliance works – we all pretend to be friendly to one another when it suits us, and we learn information about the other tributes while we are still allied, and then once we split up we use the things that we have learned against each other. It's the way it always is with these alliances – underneath the pretence, everyone understands the truth; you're in the Hunger Games by yourself, no matter how big an alliance you may be involved in.
"Yeah, she is. Or was," I'm never sure how to respond to a question like that.
"She probably met my mother when she was alive." I look at her blankly for a moment, assuming there must be some meaning towards her words, but unable to work it out with my mind working at double time to suppress memories of my mother from my mind.
"Oh?" I hear myself ask.
"I'm Enobaria's daughter. Well, adopted daughter, but it's the same difference," she says with a smug expression on her face, and any trace of hope that I had managed to contain evaporates from within me as I realise that whatever advantage I may have had because of who my mother is will be hugely overshadowed by Cassia. Not only is her mother a victor, but she's a living victor, and an absolutely terrifying one at that. I can only hope that Cassia isn't planning on killing like her mother, because I don't really fancy her biting my throat out. I manage to suppress a shudder, but am completely clueless about what to say in response. She obviously expects awe, but I don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing the impact that her revelation has made on me.
"Really?" Emelda asks, sounding less than impressed, "how come you volunteered this year? Surely you're a bit too young to be certain that you'll be able to follow in your mother's footsteps."
Cassia turns blazing eyes on Emelda and hisses, "15 was the age my mother was when she won her Games. So this is exactly how I'll follow in her footsteps."
"It's not even like she's your real mother," Tamir mutters as other tributes begin to sidle into the room, casting us anxious glances as they see us standing together and it's clear that we've formed an alliance.
"Excuse me?" Cassia demands, "just because you're jealous that-"
"Ok Cass," Lucius says, giving her a good natured shove, "don't get her started on Enobaria unless you want to get a headache," he advises Tamir and I find myself laughing slightly at his words. He's not at all how I imagined a tribute from District 2 would be – sullen, and only interested in killing. But he seems surprisingly laid back, although, just as with Emelda last night, I warn myself not to get lulled into a false sense of security, and force myself to stop trying to see everyone's good traits.
Atala gives us our instructions – we have two and half days in which to train and then, on the afternoon of the third day, we'll have a private session with the Gamemakers when they will give us a score out of 12 based on our performance in that short window. Training will finish at 5 o'clock everyday and no one is permitted to train after this. Though I don't doubt that, at least in the case of Cassia and Lucius, some tributes will break this rule.
I feel slightly edgy as we begin spreading out in the hall, other tributes selecting various stations and approaching them with fearful expressions on their faces. It's open knowledge that all six of us will have been trained, but today will be a test to see just how well my competitors have been taught. Tamir and Cassia are the ones that I am particularly planning to keep an eye on.
I launch another spear at the target and it sticks precariously into the shoulder of the dummy. It's better than I was able to manage just an hour ago, but it's still awful in comparison to Lucius' aim. He pulls his arm back, and lobs his spear at the target next to mine. He gets a direct hit to the heart and I see him smirk slightly as he spots me watching him.
"You'll need to work on your aim," he laughs and starts to walk away, "I think I'll donate my place to someone who actually needs the practice."
I roll my eyes as he lumbers over to the weights station, where Tamir is furiously bench pressing – I don't even want to imagine how much weight he is managing to lift, with apparent ease as well. Mine and Stelson's mediocre training can't match up to the other four, and I can tell Stelson is just aware of it as I am; he spent the first hour trying to throw knives at a target, but he only managed to hit it every fourth or fifth time, and I could see the scathing looks from Cassia who was sharing the stand with us. I had almost been relieved when he had decided to give up and spend his time at the survival stands instead. But I'm worried about the fact that he isn't doing any weapons training at all, because it's going to put him into a weaker position once we get into the area. Perhaps I'll speak to him about it later.
No Neri, I remind myself, he isn't your problem anymore – he has to learn to help himself now that we're going into the arena.
I've told myself this on a pretty much tri-daily basis ever since we reached the Capitol, but I still can't make myself believe it.
I'm just reaching over to take another spear when I sense someone behind me and I spin around to find Emelda standing there. "Come to the knot tying station with me?" she asks, her eyes darting around her almost guiltily and I wonder what she's up to.
"As useful as the ability to tie knots might prove in the arena, I think I'll carry on with the spears," I say dryly, already starting to turn back away from her, but she reaches out and grabs my arm in a claw like grasp.
"I have no interest in tying knots either," she says dismissively, "but it's not exactly a very popular station, so we can talk without anyone hearing us." I raise my eyebrows at her, wondering what she might possibly want to talk to me in private about. But my curiosity is peaked, and so I follow her over to the abandoned knot tying station. The attendant sitting there with his chin slumped against his palms brightens up considerably once he notices us making a beeline for his stand.
But Emelda just tosses her hair in his direction, and grabs one of the instruction cards instead and a couple of ropes left lying around for us to practice on. We sit down on the floor a little way away from the attendant and I fiddle absently with my length of rope, while Emelda tries, and fails, to look like she's absorbed in trying to work out the structure of the knot shown on the card.
"So, what do you think of the others?" she asks softly after several minutes of silence have passed by. Was this all she wanted to talk to me about? It hardly seems worth all the secrecy really – I would rather have stayed at the spear station than make inane conversation about the fellow members of our alliance.
"They seem fine," I say with a shrug, having no idea where she could possibly be going with his.
"Lucius is clearly the leader, don't you think?" She asks, leaning in closer and making me feel slightly uncomfortable.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and answer, "I guess – he's alright though. Not as arrogant as I thought he'd be." That's the stereotypical image of District 2 guys that we have back home – not that it stops Mai fawning over each and every one of them in the Games.
"No, I think Cassia has arrogance enough for the both of them," Emelda answers bitterly, drawing a slight laugh from me as I look around for her now – and find her tapping her foot impatiently as Lucius says something to her; whatever it is, she clearly isn't happy about it. "All that stuff about Enobaria being her adoptive mother, as if we would actually care."
It's strange, but when Cassia had spoken before about Enobaria having adopted her, I didn't really put two and two together – but now I realise that she must be an orphan just like Stelson and me. She hadn't exactly seemed like the classic Community Home child, so it hadn't even really crossed my mind that she might have been in once herself. Perhaps she hadn't spend much time there before Enobaria had adopted her. I remember how we had always used to fantasise about some kindly adult arriving and whisking us away from the Home, but it never happened – at least, not unless you were one of the cute little kids with chubby cheeks who still had a fairly positive outlook on life.
"Neri, can we make a pact?" Emelda suddenly asks, raising her eyes from the card and glancing at me with a serious expression on her face.
"A pact about what?" I demand, confused about why she might possibly want to make a pact with me, and what kind of pact does she mean?
She lowers her voice, leaning in closer towards me and whispers, "Once the alliance officially splits, we join back up again, to take the others down."
I look at her incredulously; that seems like a pretty bad move if you ask me, and what could she possibly gain from it? I watch her for a moment, narrowing my eyes in suspicion before asking, "Why? What would be the point?"
"We're the weakest ones. They'll each be trying to take us down first; I just thought we'd have a better chance if we teamed up to get them before they get us."
I sigh in frustration – technically, Stelson is the weakest member of our alliance, so surely she should be asking him as well. If he doesn't even count as a blip on the radar of Emelda, who considers herself one of the weakest, then what must he be towards the other members of the alliance? Less than nothing, clearly.
I make a snap decision, assuming that I'll probably regret it later, "Fine, I'm in," Emelda's face brightens at my words and she starts to speak, but I quickly cut her off by raising a finger, "if we include Stelson as well." There's no way in hell that I could just abandon him to the mercy of the other tributes – that is, if he actually would let me get away from him anyway, which I know he probably won't.
Her face darkens, "Neri," she whines, "I don't want him."
"Well, I do," I answer, "if he isn't part of it, then neither am I." I watch as her resolve begins to waver, and she lets out a loud sigh. I smile in triumph, knowing that I've won.
"Fine," she huffs, "but we don't tell him about it."
"Why not?"
"Because, the more people who are in on it, the more suspicious we'll appear. Anyway, it's not like he's actually going to last long enough for this to be an issue."
I bow my head at her words, concentrating my attention on the diagram of the knot while Emelda pats me on the shoulder and leaves the station. I wonder if any part of that conversation had actually been a good idea, and whether Emelda is someone that I could actually trust in that arena. I don't like her attitude about Stelson – the way she dismissed him so readily, without seeming remotely remorseful at the idea that he might not last very long. But then again, why should she be remorseful?
As my eyes follow the intricate patterns of the knot, I begin to realise that the Hunger Games is more complicated than I had ever imagined. It isn't just a game of survival of the fittest, but it has its own complex political structure with secrets and schemes that can drastically alter the face of the Games. And how I am supposed to cope, when everyone seems much better versed with this fact that I am?
Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far - it's good to know people are actually enjoying my story. :) And I always love getting reviews *hint*
Oh, and I apologise for the length of this chapter, I got a bit carried away!