Five: Training (part two)
Usually around this time before the games, we're all preparing ourselves for the interview. It may not be the first time that the Capitol see's the tributes, but it's a very crucial moment in the process. Many of the games highest paying patrons will make up their minds about which tributes they will support during the games at the interviews. Maybe that choice shouldn't have anything to do with styling, but when it comes to the Capitol, styling always matters.
However, today I can't find it in myself to go into the work area with my other so-called team mates. I lie in my bed far past breakfast time and when Frain knocks on my door telling me to get up, I tell him I've taken a suppressant for a nagging head ache and he leaves me alone. In reality I'm planning on going to watch training.
Designers and their teams are always invited to go watch training, they just never do. On the whole, people who work designing clothes don't care much about the design of the game. We can't watch on the days when the tributes are scored, of course, but every other day of training we're allowed in. I'm going to have to wait until my teams lunch break so I can sneak out though, but it won't be long now.
Finally, I hear them walking toward the elevator down from our tower to the main floor where they'll take another elevator up to the eighth floor of the tribute building and have lunch. Once their gone I wait about ten minutes and then leave my room, giving them enough time to get to the second set of elevators so they won't see me.
The training building is attached to the tribute building by a long hallway made of glass. You can see people walking in the streets outside the glass, but they can't see you. Once you enter the training building, there's a small waiting area with two large glass doors- which are locked during training hours. Beside them are two fine, pearl doors with the seal of the Capitol on them leading up a winding staircase to the game makers booth. That' s where I'm headed. My stomach twists as I reach for the handle since I've never done this before- in fact, I doubt any design member has.
I pull myself together and walk up the stairs. The men and women there are entirely preoccupied- not with the loud goings on of the training below, but with themselves and their clothes and their hair. No one asks who I am, or wonders what I'm doing there, in fact the only recognition that I get is a woman commenting on the originality of my tattoos.
I sit down in a vacant chair and turn myself to watch the tributes. I've only ever watched the re-caps of this time on television, never actually experienced it myself. Each tribute is vicious in their own way; the tributes from districts one through four focus on proving their strength and ability, the tributes from five and six seem to be focusing on smaller tasks like learning how to make fire or camouflage, The lower districts are spread out among the training centers depending on what they can do and what they think they need to know. I look around for my tributes, and when I finally find them I'm surprised to see them together, the only ones at the station for natural infection treatment and first aid.
I can't imagine many tributes give that station much thought, but it's a very helpful one. The games aren't just about blood baths, but about the brutality of the synthetic nature around them too. I watch as the leader of the station hands both of them a few leaves and motions wildly with his hands. Both of them nod and start matching the leaves to words on screens before them. After about thirty minutes they stand up to move on.
Lennox's eyes move up to the box. At first I think she can't see anything- even though there's nothing there to obstruct her view of the box's occupants. Her eyes roam over the game makers and land on me. She turns quickly and whispers something to her brother before looking back up to give me a small smile and a wave. I smile back, but don't dare wave since that would attract far too much attention from the others around me. My gaze then moves to Horatio. His eyes are stern and cold, looking at me- no more like straight through me. For a minute I feel like he knows about everything that's happened to me and I feel the blush creep up my back and onto my cheeks. Once again, I could not be more thankful for my skin color inlay.
They move from station to station spending about a half an hour at each. I don't know if they had planned on going to only survival stations today, but I don't see them pick up a weapon once. Finally a bell rings and the tributes all set their selected training items down and head for the door. The game makers also make their way toward the exit, still chattering about silly nothings as they descend the staircase. I follow behind them and notice that the tributes haven't been let out yet. As soon as I pass the doors, they are opened and the tributes pile out.
Some of them are talking, but most of them are silent as they walk through the glass hall behind me.
"Nerissa!" I hear my name, but the voice is very unfamiliar. I turn to see Lennox moving toward me through the group of tributes, followed closely by Horatio.
"You came to watch us?" she asks.
I nod and smile, unsure of what else to say.
"Is that allowed?" Horatio asks in a some-what mocking tone.
"It is," I reply simply.
"Why didn't the others come?" Lennox asks.
"They were working on your interview make-up." I say.
"Your assistance wasn't needed?" His questions aren't really questions, they're more like accusations in an inquiring tone of voice.
"It wasn't." I return trying not to glare at him.
My usual chipper, "capitolian" demeanor from yesteryears has been decaying since the incident with Haydrien. I try to keep myself light and flaky, but sometimes it's hard to forget the things I've seen. I could never explain anything that happened with Haydrien to Marina. First, she would think I was joking, and if I persisted she would think I was crazy. To members of the Capitol, the government can do no wrong. Every decision they make is for the bettering of the people as a whole. I can't conform to that idea anymore, I just can't. Sometimes, I desperately wish I could though.
Lennox walks beside me all the way back to the elevator. Dinner is in an hour and I'm sure the rest of my team will be on the eighth floor waiting.
"Feeling better, Nessie?" Cimorene's nasally voice stings my ears.
"Much, thank you," I say with a smile.
"Were you sick?" Horatio asks. I'd thought he would follow his sister back to the rooms, but I suppose I guessed wrong.
"I was. I'm better now." I say.
He grunts and sets himself in a chair at the table.
The next day I do the same thing. None of my team wants to work with me (they'd much rather gossip about me while I'm not there) so they don't care what my excuse for not attending the design sessions is. Today Lennox and Horatio work on survival again. It's a wonderful thing for them to be knowledgeable on how to keep themselves alive when they aren't running from a career, but I'm worried that when it comes down to it, they won't be able to hold their own.
That evening after dinner as I'm leaving to go back to the tower, someone clears their throat behind me. I turn to see Horatio standing there with his hands behind his back. He's looking everywhere but my face as he says: "I need your help." When he finishes the sentence his eyes meet mine. There's something so sincere about his look, I'm caught off guard.
"I don't know how much I can help...I just do your make-up." I reply.
He smirks a little and shakes his head. "You've come to watch us in training for two days now, and every time I look up into that box, you seem frustrated. And I'm sure it doesn't comes as much of a shock to you that Benedict is barely any help. He gave up on us that very first day."
That last part is very true, Benedict often gives up on his tributes before he really knows them.
"There's something you want to tell me- er, us."
"Why don't you try weapons?" I ask finally.
"Most of the tributes die from natural causes." He replies, as if that's the only answer there is.
"Only because the game makers manipulate the arena's climate." I return. "You have to teach Lennox how to fight, otherwise she doesn't stand a chance. And you're gonna need at least one ally, find a team or at least one other tribute who cares about Lennox, better yet, let Lennox find someone. One of those tributes is bound to fall in love with her if you give them the chance."
He studies me for a moment and frowns a little "You really do care about her winning, don't you?"
A silence forms while I try to think about my answer. "Yes. But I shouldn't." I finally say.
He moves toward me then. "Alright, here's the deal, you help me try to choose an ally by watching the tributes tomorrow from the box, and I'll start teaching Lennox how to fight, yeah?"
I clench my hands into fists and bite my lip but eventually my head nods 'yes.'
He smiles lightly and turns to go to his room, then stops suddenly and swivels back around "Oh, thank you, Nerissa."
I nod again and watch him walk away. As I leave for the tower I let out a long breath. There may not be rules about watching the tributes train, but helping them is whole other ordeal.