Four: Training Day One

The week of training is easy for us team members. We don't have much to do other than prep the tributes for a day of sweating. Each tribute is given a training outfit from the trainer- this year it's changed, again, to a man named Faux Maus- with their district on the sleeve.

Breakfast is silent this morning as Desdemona has decided to sleep in, Demetrius and Helena have been summoned to some sort of designer meeting and no one else ever talks much. I'm beginning to wonder how much advice about the games Benedict has even given these kids. Right now, it seems like they might be clueless save the small lesson they learned last night and what they've watched in previous games. Neither of them eats much, but I've seen this before; they're either being purposely defiant or too nervous to eat anything before facing their competition for the first time.

Frain, Cimorene and Reynaldo sit at the end of the table with Helena's team. I know they're probably whispering about me. We haven't really gotten along for a while now. My contempt for the games isn't just random after all, and it almost made a Capitol wide appearance. If it hadn't been for a friend of mine, Haydrien, I would have ruined myself completely. The incident still haunts me, not simply because my team knows all about it and are constantly judging me, but because I can still see the moment everything changed play out in my head...

I'm startled out of my thoughts by an Avox entering the room to take away the trash on the table. My heart speeds up and slows down so quickly I can't concentrate. My mind flashes between this Avox, a small wide eyed girl, an another Avox, a tall, white haired boy with silver tattooed eyebrows , eyelashes and lips.

"Everything alright, Nessie?" Cimorene says in a semi-mocking tone as the others snicker.

I clear my throat and give my emptied plate to the girl and stand to leave the table. I want to see Lennox and Horatio off to training, but I don't think it's such a good idea to keep singling myself out; I'm already terrible at pretending to love the games.

I go up to the tower and work on make-up and design portfolio's for the interviews. It's not my job, and none of my designs will get picked since Frain is the Senior make-up team member and Demetrius is our actual designers, but I like to play around anyway. I think Lennox should stick with the innocent, nymphish look. She's so young and beautiful, almost like a princess, so much softer looking than anyone in the Capitol. I wish I had her hair; her long, luxurious hair. Mine's so course from being dyed when I was younger, that's why I opt for wigs now-a-days.

Then there's Horatio. He looks like most of the older male tributes that come from district seven: strong jaw line, tanned skin, dark hair, dark eyes, large arms, raw hands- basically the epitome of old fashioned masculinity. I wish there was a way to make him look different though. I don't want him in some dowdy suit, he should wear something...better. I wish he'd let us give him a few tattoo's and a bronze inlay, it would add so much flare to his look without really trying. As I'm drawing up my vision of Horatio's interview outfit I'm reminded of a conversation I had once with Haydrien:

"You know I think they should take more risks." He said.

"More risks? You don't think an outfit made completely of wood is risky?" I always admired his taste for the absurd, but sometimes he could get a little ahead of himself.

Haydrien Penderghast had been my friend since I'd started at the Capitol Academy for Artistry and Design a aget fourteen. After we graduated (a year later) we were both assigned to District two and then moved to district seven together. He worked on Helena's team before...I swallow hard and re-focus my attention on my drawing (which has become very sloppy in the past five minutes or so).

I watch the stylus glide across my design pad and create a thick line down the center of an elaborate jacket with tails, and label it "velvet".

"How very pre-Panem of you." I'm surprised to hear Demetrius' voice behind me. I turn with a start and stand automatically.

"Demetrius! I-I didn't know you were back-"

He laughs lightly and takes the design pad from my hands; with a bit of effort, since I'm holding it so tightly.

"Interesting. Delicate, yet masculine- strong lines, strange fabric choices, intricate seam work and still simple. " He hands the pad back to me "I love it."

I blink and frown. "You...do?"

"Yes- it reminds me of some of the older work I used to do before the games."

I never thought of Demetrius as anythingbut a designer for the games- in fact, I'd never thought of him working at all before I first saw him on television all those years ago.

"I think I'll send it to my production team- what color were you thinking?"

More than slightly taken aback I stammer: "Green- er, forest green."

"Yes...yes, so...regal. Thank you Nerissa." He smiles lightly and leaves after taking the pad from me again.

I'm alone in the television room when the door slams and someone comes storming in. It doesn't take a genius to guess that it's Horatio back from training, despite the fact that the session ends in an hour. I stand to leave the room and give him space (as is customary) before he can see me, but it's too late, he's already here.

"Oh don't leave on account of me! Don't give up your luxury for me!" He shouts. He storms past me and picks up one of the light gray chairs slamming it to the ground.

I step back startled. "What!?" He growls watching me with fierce eyes.

"Nothing." I reply in a surprisingly even tone.

"Nothing my ass!" He grumbles stomping toward me. "What is it Mannequin, hmmm? Is it my hair? My eyebrows? Are my hands too dirty for you?!" His voice grows louder and louder.

"I never said any of those things..." I say backing up slowly.

"You don't have to say it to think it, do you?" his voice has become eerily low.

There's a silence in which I can hear my heart beating in time with his breaths- quick and low. I don't know what happened in training to make him so angry, but this sort of thing won't help him in the games.

"You're going to lose." I say after a moment.

His eyes flicker with rage "Oh yeah? What do you know about winning the games, Mannequin?"

"Not much," I reply "But I know a lot about losing them; I've watched many a tribute lose the games. Let me just say, most lose because they're too cocky or too hot-headed." I give him a pointed look.

He snickers and leans away from me. "I've watched them too, ya know."

"I'm sure you never guessed you'd be in them though, did you?" Another silence falls then and he glares at me.

"I don't want to win anyhow." He says finally.

"I know."

"You know?" He sneers. "How could you possibly know?"

"Because of Lennox." I say.

His face flickers between several different emotions so quickly I can't make out any of them in particular. He steps toward me again and this time I don't move back.

"What do you want, Mannequin? Are you some sort of spy for Snow?"

I don't reply. I simply let him look me over and narrow his eyes at me until he moves toward me again, forcing me to step back or be run into. "You'll make sure she dies won't you? That's what you've got planned, isn't it? You'll make sure she doesn't get sponsors so she dies- it'll be the biggest upset of the Quell, won't it? The most entertaining bit of the entire slaughter will be all thanks to you! Woop dee doo! Mannequin, makes it big in the illustrious Capitol where the people can do no wrong! Isn't that right, make-up girl?! Well isn't it!" His voice has raised from almost a whisper to a shout so loud it echoes through the room .

"I would gladly switch places with your sister any day you no-nothing, wood-for-brains pig!" I reply evenly, though with equal gusto, stepping toward him and shoving my way past.

I haven't really processed the sentence until I get past him, and now as I stomp up the stairs to my room in the tower, I know I've made a huge mistake. And this time, there's no covering it up.