Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games nor anything by Horace
A/n: The sun is shining and I have piles of revision. Yay. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)
5) Anger is Short-Lived Madness
I feel curiously excited about training when I wake up the next day. I try to pinpoint why. I've always liked learning but the idea of learning how to survive the Hunger Games arena isn't one that thrills me. It must be something else.
One thing I've learnt, over the years, is that people often know why they do something. In fact, logically, everyone should know why they do everything otherwise, why would they do it? That doesn't take impulse into consideration though which I'd say is an exception. But the point is that for thoughts or considered actions, it's never a case of 'I don't know why I think/do that'. You always know why. You just don't want to admit it to yourself. And that's another way people make themselves unhappy because they're lying to themselves.
So, in the interests of being as happy as possible for what may be the rest of a short life, I force myself to silently admit that I'm excited at the prospect of talking to Gloss again. He seemed quite funny and kind and, since I'm going for complete self-honesty, quite handsome.
(And just because I've admitted this to myself does not mean I have to admit this to other people. If they ask me, I should probably tell them because lying isn't a great way to be happy, but not telling someone something isn't the same as lying. After all, I don't tell people what I did for every minute of the day but that doesn't mean I'm lying about what I did that day.)
I realise that I've actually woken up before Aculeo can come and shout at me which is an achievement. It might end up being the biggest achievement I have in this entire experience. That's depressing. But at least I get to enjoy hearing Aculeo tell Mattis he has to get up now and not in five minutes.
We manage to delay finishing breakfast long enough that Aculeo is barking at us about the importance of being on time and we are the fifth pair to arrive. Kiril and his district partner are here and glaring as well as the tributes from Three, Seven, Eleven and Twelve. Mattis directs us to stand by the tributes from District Eleven. I try to avoid eye contact with Kiril. Just because we're all on his kill list doesn't mean I want to get on there twice.
After everyone's arrived, we're told we can start. Remembering Apa's advice, I head over to snares and traps. She's right. I am good at it.
After that, I try a few other skills which I have varying degrees of ability with. Towards the end of the morning, I'm trying tracking and animal behaviour when someone bumps into me.
"Watch where you're going," the person snaps.
"Don't be so fricking rude." I look up at Gloss and we both smile at the now familiar retort. Then I see that he's studying a photo of a forest. "Why're you here?"
He shrugs. "Learning to track."
"Your photo's upside down."
He blinks. "Oh, yeah. Guess you're not so stupid after all."
"Yeah, you might even match my intelligence," I tell him and he laughs. But I still think this is weird. Why is he here? These tributes, the 'Career' tributes as I overheard someone from District Eleven call them, they always stick to weapons. They never bother learning to survive because they're not likely to be in that situation. But here Gloss is, learning to track animals.
I study some replicated animal tracks. Next to me, Gloss looks at the photos intensely.
"How's the tracking, then?" I ask after a minute of silence.
He looks up. "Awful. In District 1, there are no forests or mountains or rivers at all. Just factories and mines."
"What'sDistrict 1 like?" I ask. The question is out before I can stop myself. He raises an eyebrow and then shrugs, clearly deciding that telling me can't do any harm.
"Beautiful," he says. "Like a smaller Capitol. But you need a certain mind to be good there. I don't have it." He grins crookedly. "I don't think normally, apparently."
"Is that why you volunteered for the Games?"
"Nope. What's District 5 like?"
For a moment, I'm thrown by the change of conversation – but then I realise he doesn't want to answer.
"Full of power stations and dirty. But the people are great," I say. Neither of us really knows much about the other's district. But it feels like we're making friends albeit friends who'll want to kill each other soon.
We work in silence for a few more minutes. I realise that he has a photo I want. He's not looking at it so I reach over and grab it.
"Hey!" he says. "I had that."
"Yeah, not anymore," I tell him.
"You know, most people would think twice about grabbing it off me," he says.
"Why? What're you gonna do? Kill me right here, in front of everyone, because I stole a photo you're not even looking at? Go on, then."
He looks surprised and it makes me laugh. I like proving these Careers are human. "You ever think it's a bad idea to pick on someone bigger than you?"
"Yeah, but I do it anyway. It's fun."
He looks like he's going to say something else but the gong sounds, announcing time for lunch. Instantly, he gets up and walks away from me, heading towards the boy from District 4. I feel slightly hurt. Then I remember – he's not allied with me. He's allied to them. And they have a facade of bravado to maintain.
Lunch is just as quiet as yesterday. Gloss and his allies keep talking loudly. The rest of us sit quietly and eat our food. Mattis whispers to me that he's becoming a pacifist on the basis of not being able to use any weapons. I ask him what happened to becoming a tough tribute team and he says that we'll just have to hope we look intimidating. This leads to whispered jokes about our looks being bad enough to scare everyone off. When we start laughing, we remember that we're not supposed to be a team and stop.
The afternoon is, once again, dedicated to weapon training. I'm rapidly realising that whatever skill I demonstrate to the Gamemakers tomorrow isn't going to matter. Since yesterday afternoon, I've noticed that the Gamemakers only glance my way occasionally. They seem more interested in the Careers. It's annoying to know I'm being shunted to one side already but at least there's less pressure on me to impress at the moment.
I take Apa's suggestion to try bigger weapons a bit too literally and attempt to use a spear. Ten minutes later I give up on ever being able to do more than lift it and try using a sword. This is better because I can actually swing it. But I don't think I have any real skill with it and I can see the girl from District 1 smirking at me so I give up on that as well. At this rate, I'm going to be joining Mattis' vow of pacifism.
"Try a cudgel," Gloss murmurs to me. "Or go back to the knives."
I look to my left but he's already walking away. For a moment, I don't move because I'm not sure why he's giving me advice. But I try the cudgel anyway. Again, no amazing skill but I can swing it around at least.
I decide to practice slingshots again, perfecting my aim. Finally, I go back to the knives. The trainer shows me a few more stances for close-combat and then tells me to practice throwing them, showing me a different grip.
After a few minutes of throwing, I notice that Gloss is standing next to me. He smirks his familiar smirk. "I'm sure if you try hard, you might get it to stick in."
"Don't be so fricking rude."
He grins. And once again, we practice throwing knives together. After a while, he asks me what I think about the Capitol and I tell him it's very beautiful but I miss home. I ask him what he thinks. He just shrugs. I don't know what that's meant to mean. We talk a bit about what the arena may be. I'm always slightly surprised by his way of throwing out ideas at random and not paying attention to people's feelings but I think I do well by replying to everything bluntly and sarcastically. I can't help feeling that if we do have a friendship, it's founded on sarcasm. It's just a pity that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Apa and Oleander don't seem surprised at Mattis and my combined failures. We don't mention our new dedication to peace but they definitely know that between us, we can just about manage a bow, a sling and a knife. Luckily, Mattis has picked up some solid survival skills and I can probably keep myself alive for three days or so. Not brilliant but it could be worse.
(But then, things can always be worse so it's not really a helpful marker – it's just something for optimists to say when everything's going to hell.)
They ask us what skills we're thinking of showing the Gamemakers.
"I thought I could set some snares and maybe try the slingshot," I say. These being the only two skills I am truly competent in.
"They care more about weapons than survival skills," Oleander tells me. "It's hard to truly show an aptitude for survival skills in the Training Centre. And the more violence on screen, the better it is. But if you're not sure about the slingshot, don't do it. You'll just get a low score either way. Mattis?"
"Er ... I guess I could, uh, show some survival skills?" He looks uncertain. "Camouflage? I can do that."
Oleander shrugs. "If that's all, it'll have to do, won't it? No point trying to use a weapon and then impaling yourself on it for the sake of a measly score."
"Do you always have this little faith in your tributes or is it just us?" I ask.
He looks at me. "Have you done anything impressive yet, girl?"
"No," I say. "But I haven't had the chance to."
"Well, you do something which proves to me that you've got a solid chance of winning and I'll show a little more faith in you."
"But if you're not showing any faith in us, how are we meant to know we have a chance?" I say.
"Because," he sneers, "if you had a solid chance, you wouldn't need my faith to have it. You'd already know." I glare at him. He sighs. "Anfisa, you're smart. Maybe too clever for your own good, I don't know. But you're so concentrated on the small points that you don't consider the larger picture. And that's what's going to put you in severe danger if you last the first days. My faith is a small detail. The bigger picture is how you can have this chance and that depends on your actions, not mine."
"But my actions aren't isolated!" I snap, stung by his criticism. "My chances will be highest if you'd just show some faith in me."
"And I will. When you show you have a chance."
"But I have a chance. I know I do. But you don't know it."
"Because I haven't seen proof."
"Because I haven't had the chance to show you proof. You could have made my chances greater earlier by showing faith earlier. No wonder hardly anyone from District 5 wins."
There's a silence. A silence which is all too familiar. I've crossed a line. But I'm too hurt to take it back so I do the mature thing: I stamp off to my room. I climb into the bed and lie there. About thirty minutes later, I hear knocking on my door and Mattis saying that it's him but I don't want to speak to anyone so I let him stay out there. He doesn't try again.
I don't know what I'm hurt about. But, of course, I do. I'm hurt by Oleander's attitude, that he doesn't seem to care about Mattis and me at all. He saw us, he dismissed us and now he's waiting for us to die. I have people at home who want me to come back. So does Mattis.
But I'm also hurt because he was right – I don't believe I have a solid chance.
And I don't always see the bigger picture.
But I can't tell him that now. Not after saying what I said.
I punch my pillow angrily and close my eyes.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I have trouble sleeping but when I finally do sleep, my dreams are filled with people dying and Oleander shouting at me that he was right, I am useless. When I wake up, it doesn't feel as though I've slept at all. And I'm supposed to impress the Gamemakers like this.
I get up and eat breakfast in my room before heading down to the gym alone. I'm being unfair to Mattis but I can't bear to speak to anyone from District 5 right now. The tributes from Six give me a weird look but, of course, they don't comment. With the exception of the Career tributes and me and Gloss, no one's spoken to anyone from outside their district.
People trickle in. Mattis arrives and stands by me. I don't say anything to him. I don't even look at him. I'll have to apologise later. To him and Apa and Aculeo. And probably Oleander, unless I can avoid it.
When we start training, I'm still in a foul mood. I walk over to the snares and traps section and begin to knot nets together with brutal ferocity.
"Come on, District 5, you couldn't even catch my finger in that."
"Don't be so fricking rude otherwise I'll fricking stamp your fricking head in," I mutter angrily.
"Ouch," Gloss says as he sits near me and draws some snares towards him. "You're in a terrible mood. Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I don't care," he says. "Talk."
And before I can stop myself, I tell him about arguing with Oleander. He doesn't look at me once during this. But when I've finished and started a new trap as my old one is completely unuseable, he glances at me.
"You have a chance," he says. "Not a good one, but you have one." He thinks for a moment and then says, "We're in the same position now anyway. One mentor isn't talking to you, one of ours isn't talking to me." He smiles slightly. "I can sympathise."
"Why are they not talking to you?"
"My sister didn't take kindly to me volunteering for the Games. She's refusing to speak to me. It makes meals awkward. But I've got Spark so it's not too bad. Quartz hates me though because Cashmere doesn't know whether to help me or her." He sounds very casual. Apparently, this doesn't bother him.
"Why did you volunteer if she didn't want you to?" I ask. I don't think he'll reply but it feels like a natural question.
"Honestly?" His voice is barely audible now. "To prove a point." I shoot him a curious look before starting a new trap. "We promised each other we wouldn't volunteer for the Games but she did it last year. She said there was no real harm because she came back. So I thought I'd show her what it feels like to watch someone you love in the Games."
I wait for him to smirk but he simply carries on working. So, eventually, I say, "So, in other words, you don't want to tell me."
He laughs softly. "I just told you."
"You're serious?" I ask incredulously. He flicks his eyes towards me and away to communicate his assent. "Well, that was stupid, wasn't it?"
"Huh?" Now he looks at me.
"You're risking your life to piss off your sister? That's an even worse reason than doing it for the money."
"It's not a risk if you know you're going to win."
"Yeah, but your chances are low, District 1," I say. "Kiril looks like the strongest. He'll probably kill you."
"Thanks, Anfisa." He sounds hurt.
"Sorry."
"I've got to get used to you not being terrified of me or thinking I can win. It's weird."
I smirk. "It's normal." I look up from my trap and become aware that a few Gamemakers are watching us, as well as the girl tribute from District 2 – Loren, I think Gloss said her name was. I feel edgy. "I've practiced enough. Good luck for later."
"You'll need it more. Useless."
"Don't be so fricking rude," I say and we laugh. But Loren's gaze is getting a little too direct so I wander off to another station. My mind's not really on what I'm doing though. I'm thinking about these conversations with Gloss. There won't be any more because there's no more training after today. We can't really speak at the interviews and if we see each other in the arena, we'll have to try to kill each other. Maybe we should have come up with a better parting than the one we did.
I also realise that I'm going to miss these conversations. Despite being a bit arrogant and rude, Gloss is intelligent and funny. He made training bearable in a way. But there's nothing I can do about it. Except live in my imagination which is an unhealthy thing to do because it makes reality all the more painful when you come back to it.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
At lunch, they tell us that they will call us in, one at a time, in boy-girl, district order. I watch as they call for Gloss Ludovik and the blond-haired boy walks into the room confidently. I wonder what he's going to show them. Despite all of these conversations, I never really picked up on his strongest skill. I think it may be swords.
The girl from One, Kiril, Loren, the tributes from 3 ... they seem to go in slowly. By the time they are calling out "Mattis Lough", two hours have passed. In all of this time, I've barely looked at my district partner. I do so now and find myself wishing him good luck. He smiles and walks in. I hope his nerves don't take him over.
After what seems like an age – but is only fifteen minutes – the woman comes in and calls for Anfisa Lensfield. I get up and walk into the room.
The Gamemakers look bored. This doesn't bode well for either me or Mattis. Mattis because whatever he did couldn't have been particularly spectacular. Me because short of leaping on them and tying them up, I have no way of exciting them. Nevertheless, I walk over to the traps section and begin to construct hooks, snares, nets and other traps. By the time they tell me to go, I have two good traps, a net which would only catch something large and a hook which is not attached to its string. None of them look amazed. They've probably seen it all before.
I walk to the elevator and press the button for Floor 5. The scores won't be shown until this evening which means I have several hours to kill. I consider knocking on Mattis' door but I'm not sure what I'd say to him. When I think about last night, I feel a mixture of anger, hurt and shame. And considering that I've blanked him all day, it's going to feel awkward.
If I was mature, I'd apologise to him now to get rid of this awkward feeling. That would mean we'd stay as a team and I could speak to him. But I just can't bring myself to do it.
So, instead, I spend the afternoon drawing on some paper and playing stupid mind games in my room.
When dinner time comes, I decide that I should go. Staying in my room is taking this too far. Anger might be short-lived madness but that just means sanity has to come back eventually. And besides, I'm driving myself crazy with boredom in here!
When I sit down, Apa nods to me and Mattis and Aculeo say hello. I look at Oleander. He studies me then nods as well and begins to eat his food. Aculeo asks us how we think our Gamemaker shows went.
Mattis says that he camouflaged himself and shot a few arrows as well as dropping a few on himself. Oleander says that the variation may sit him in good stead. Then they look at me. I describe my trap-setting as briefly as possible.
To my surprise, Oleander says that going for my strengths may have been to my advantage. Then he tells both of us not to be disappointed with our scores unless they're less than three. And that we probably won't get over seven with our performances.
Once we've finished eating, he asks to speak to me outside the room. I want to refuse but I know I've got to face up to this at some point and at least we're not having confrontation number two in front of the others. So I get up and leave with him, carefully avoiding looking at any of the others.
In the corridor, Oleander looks at me. "Have you thought about our argument yesterday?" he asks. I nod but don't say anything else. "I won't apologise for what I said about you because I never say anything I don't mean," he tells me. "But I will apologise for giving you the impression that I don't care about either you or Mattis. You're not the first tribute to confront me about my attitude and you won't be the last. Apa and myself do everything we can to help you. But in the arena, you will be alone and I want you both to remember that.
"I know you'll think it selfish but imagine you're in my position for a moment. You're in charge of two tributes, both of whom have a large chance of dying in less than three weeks. If you get too attached to these tributes, it will be counter-productive. You'll focus too much on their individual wants and needs rather than the bigger picture. And if they lose, it will hit you hard, Anfisa.
"So I do care for you and Mattis and hope that one of you wins. But as a mentor, it's my job to guide you as best as I can and to not become too attached to you."
I don't know what to say because everything he says makes sense. But it still hurts that he doesn't think we're going to win and that's why he's distancing himself away from us. Eventually, I settle for, "I'm sorry I criticised your mentoring yesterday."
"As I said, you're not the first one and you probably won't be the last."
This leaves a great unspoken realisation – people say it to him often. Because it's true. But he doesn't know how to improve and he honestly thinks this is the best way to do it. Or there is no better way to do it. District 5 tributes are simply not up to scratch.
"I'm still sorry."
"I forgive you. Now let's get everyone into the TV room to watch your scores."
We re-enter the room and Oleander tells everyone to move out. Obediently, the three of them stand up and we troop to the TV room, sit down and wait for the scores to be revealed.
After some inane dialogue, they begin to reveal the scores. They show a picture of the tribute, the name and the score. The first person up is Gloss who scores an eight. I'm surprised because I thought he would have gotten higher. Not that eight is a bad score but for stronger tributes, it leans towards the low range.
As Quartz Cichanda receives a nine, I start to wonder whether Gloss got that eight on purpose. He seemed confident of his ability and he's one of the most known tributes. If he got a very high score, people may target him. But if he was to get a good but not brilliant score...
Kiril gets a ten. The girl from his district also receives a ten. The tributes from three get low scores and the tributes from Four get nines. Mattis' picture flashes up next. He gets a five. Average for people who have no particular skill. He looks somewhat relieved. I feel my stomach tighten as my picture flashes up.
Four.
I keep my face as still as possible so that no one can see how disappointed I am. I knew I was going to receive a low score but a four is pretty uninspiring. Combine that with Mattis' five and our poor show at the Opening Ceremony and we're not going to have any sponsors. Unless we pretend we're weaklings – but I really don't see how that would work; no one would sponsor us anyway.
The rest of the scores go by. They range from three to six so, all in all, we're being outdone by the Career tributes. But I still wish I had done better. Logically speaking, survival skills should get higher than weapon skills since you can't eat a sword but you can catch food. But as Oleander said, this is to do with ratings. Me making a snare won't have people hooked to the screen. Unless they have a strange fetish and there can't be many of those people (though, since it's the Capitol, I probably shouldn't rule it out).
"Well done," I say dully to Mattis.
"Same to you." I look at him. "Neither of us got a three so we're safe. Normal. Cheer up."
It occurs to me that I still haven't apologised to him but he's trying to cheer me up. Mattis Lough is one of life's good people. For a fleeting moment, I find myself hoping that he'll win the Games. But since that involves me dying, I mentally take it back and reword it so that I hope he wins if I die. And then I think of Gloss so I reword it so that Gloss can win if both Mattis and I die. I decide to stop the list there. Especially as I have the uncomfortable urge to swap Mattis and Gloss' place around and my reason for doing so is completely stupid as I don't know Gloss anywhere near as well as I know Mattis.
Oleander tells us that tomorrow, we will prepare for our interviews. They will teach us style first and then presentation. I find I don't care much. As long as it's not as much of a disaster as training turned out to be, I'll be happy.