Chapter 7
I barely sleep. My dreams are haunted by images of the arena, horrifying, gruesome deaths, and most terrible, Katniss dying a slow, painful death, the blood draining from her drop by drop. I bolt upright in bed, panting and sweating in terror. Hoping that a blistering shower will burn away these dreadful thoughts, I hurry into the waiting water and am more careful with the buttons I press, not wanting to smell like a girl again. The hot shower does rejuvenate me, but I cannot shake the paralyzing image of Katniss with her hair slick with blood and her eyes wide and pleading in death.
My training clothes have been left on the bureau at the foot of my large bed and I slip them on with joy. They are not crazy, original costumes. They are comfortable and look nice without being overly extravagant. There are black pants and lace-up shoes, as well as a burgundy tunic. I have been told that each district has it's own color; I guess ours is dark red. Oddly, Effie hasn't given us a time to meet for breakfast, so I meander down the hall to the dining table and find it crowded with food. Poppy it already there, but our escort and victor are mysteriously absent.
Poppy, who is wearing the exact same thing as me, is eating slowly and silently, but smiles when she sees me. I fill a plate with sausages, eggs, and rolls with raspberry preserves and heaps of butter and sit across from the girl.
"Sleep well?" I mumble, my mouth already filled with food. She shrugs and continues eating. "Nightmares?" She looks up at me, nodding, so that I can see the dark circles rimming Katniss's, I mean Poppy's, gorgeous grey eyes. I sigh and reply, "Me, too." She doesn't speak.
Effie and Haymitch appear, the former prattling off advice for us during training and the latter staying unusually quiet. Since both of them have already eaten, they walk us to the elevator, Effie spouting information all the way. Haymitch finally pipes up when we are in front of the elevator.
"So," he drawls. "Training, today." Poppy and I exchange glances, and then nod. He continues without hesitating. "Try to stay clear of what you're best at. Peeta, no weights. Poppy, no climbing. Practice with weapons, fire, plants. Anything that will help you survive. If you want, stick together, but get to know some of the other tributes. Analyze their power, strengths and weaknesses, their behavior. See if you might want allies. That's about all I got. Have fun!" He smiles patronizingly and shoves us into the elevator.
Poppy is nervous; I can tell. Her hands are trembling and her foot jiggles up and down with fright. I touch her shoulder lightly but reassuringly.
"Hey! It's okay! It's just training!" She frowns more.
"Yes, it's just training. But in a few days it won't be. It will be real. And we may or may not be stiff and cold in a little box being shipped back to families broken or frozen with grief. And we are about to go meet the very people who are going to…" Her voice breaks and becomes a tiny whisper. "It's not fair!" She's right. It's not fair. For anyone, but especially her. She's just thirteen, a young girl, with the rest of her life ahead of her. A life that may, very soon, be extinguished. I pull her into a hug and then make her look into my eyes.
"I'm never going to let that happen!" I cry. "I will protect you. Always." She smiles tentatively up at me just as the elevators 'ding' open and we are swept into the Training Center. We are a floor below the main floor and have to follow a narrow hallway to the giant gymnasium, which is where our training will occur. The room is huge, larger than our Justice Building, The walls are lined with thousands of weapons, booth's are set up all over the place, as well as obstacle courses. The first thing that catches my eyes is the camouflage booth, set up to the far right, which houses innumerable tubs of paint. How I itch to get my hands on those brushes and paints! Even so, I restrain myself and look to Poppy.
She is sizing up the tributes while gazing at the climbing wall and apparatus mournfully, which Haymitch has forbidden her to use. I look at the tributes, too, and am surprised to see them all dressed exactly like us, but with different colored tunics. District 1 was gold, 2 bronze, 3 silver, 4 turquoise, 5 yellow, 6 purple, 7 brown, 8 pale blue, 9 tan, 10 black, 11 olive green, and 12 burgundy. Everyone also had their district number pinned on the left sleeve of their shirt. The Careers, Districts 1,2, and 4, all looked strong and capable of killing, as usual. The rest looked unceremonious, except for the fiery haired girl from 5, the tiny girl from 11 who I think is younger than Poppy, and the, well, man from 11 who looks as strong as an ox.
The trainer, Atala, calls us together and gives us the rules – no fighting with other tributes, experts are there to help us, and we may practice with assistants if we wish. She reads us of all the stations, which include survival skills and fighting skills, and then releases us. The Careers immediately head to the weapons sections and handle scary-looking weapons with ease. I stare in fascinated horror until I feel a tiny, cold hand on my arm and nearly jump out of my skin. Poppy is staring at me expectantly.
"Where do you want to go?" she asks. I shrug, my eyes still wide from fear. She sighs in exasperation, and leads me over to the snare station. In the minute after the instructor's explanation, Poppy has managed to set up an extremely complicated snare that twitches up prey from the ground and holds it out of the reach of predators. I can barely make a knot. The instructor, impressed with Poppy's work, looks down on my slipknot disdainfully. I try to leave the station as quickly as possible.
Next we try an obstacle course that includes jumping through hoops, running across the top of a thin wall, swinging on a rope from one podium to another, monkeybars, and floundering through 4 feet of water. We both get good times, but completely fail the swimming portion. Neither Poppy nor I have ever learned to swim. That is where District 4 has an advantage. One year, the arena flooded and everyone died. The victor won because she was the strongest swimmer. It just shows you you can be put anywhere. As long as it's entertaining.
Finally, I am allowed to go to the camouflage section. Poppy is okay; she can do some blending in, but this is where I excel. I weave an intricate design of paint and mud across my arm and hand until it blends into the table below it completely. Before I know it, I have drawn Katniss on my palm, her luxurious dark hair, the sparkling grey eyes. Poppy leans over my shoulder and stares at my palm quizzically. I do my best to hide it, but she's already seen.
"Who's that?" she asks, giggling slightly. I clear my throat, extremely embarrassed that I have let myself do this again, and mumble an answer.
"A girl."
"Yes, stupid, I know it's a girl. But what girl? From District 12? She looks like me, like she's from the Seam." She prods me in the side and I yelp and give up.
"Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I've been in love with her since I was five." Poppy whistles.
"Wow, that's a pretty long time! Oh, wait! I think I know her! She hunts! My mom buys meat from her at the Hob!" she smiles and continues. "She's really pretty!" I sigh, I can't get her face from my mind. I love her so. Poppy abruptly changes the subject.
"So, how can you do that?" she questions, motioning down towards my palm and arm. "Paint like that. You're really good!" I smile and thank her, abashed.
"I do the cakes for the bakery. I love to paint, but I can't afford supplies, so I paint on the cakes." I fell awkward talking about myself this way; I'm not one to brag. I finger the brush in my pocket and decide I can trust Poppy with my most prized possession. "This is the only real instrument I own. It's really special to me. I guess it's my token. Maybe it'll be good luck." She grins and reaches out to touch the smooth wood of the handle.
"That's really sweet!" Suddenly, I'm glad we are friends. I really could use someone to help support me here.
The next three days pass in a blur of stations and courses. We both learn a bunch of new techniques and helpful skills like starting a fire and throwing spears. I even take it upon myself to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow, since it's Katniss's favored weapon. I suck, but Poppy is actually fairly decent. Just like Haymitch said, we stay away from the climbing and weight-lifting stations, but I see it's paining Poppy that she can't get her hands on the climbing equipment.
I didn't even notice the Gamemakers until the second day. They sit on raised platforms and observe us, even taking notes sometimes. Sometimes they walk around the gym, watching the movements of each of us.
Although we eat breakfast and dinner on our floor with Effie and Haymitch, we are forced to eat lunch with the other tributes in the Training Center. It's buffet style, and tables are set up around the room so you can sit with anyone. Almost everyone sits alone or with their district partners, except for the Careers. Poppy has struck up a friendship with the tiny District 11 girl, and we have learned that her name is Rue. She sits with us at lunch and is a really bright little girl. Her and Poppy are actually much alike and converse easily, laughing and sharing jokes while I sit there quite awkwardly, the third wheel.
I'm not going to lie, I am pretty terrified of the Careers. The girls from 1 and 2 are ditzy, but strong. The 2 girl excels in knife throwing. The boy from 2 is possibly the most menacing person I have ever laid eyes on. His biceps are the size of my thighs and he has this haughty expression laced with so much malice that I believe he might be slightly unhinged. He is deadly with a sword, malevolent with almost any weapon he lays hands on. If I met him face to face in the arena I would turn and run as fast as I could.
The next day, Rue joins us at almost every station. Unlike us, she has no order to restrain her talents and takes much joy in showing off. She can reach the top of the climbing wall in less than 10 seconds and roosts among the rafters, peering down on those of us below. I have to rest my hand on Poppy's shoulder to keep her from scaling the wall and joining Rue.
After lunch, when we are practicing spear throwing, I see the two of them conspiring together, two dark heads bowed together, whispered chattering barely reaching my ears. It's almost an hour later when I finally comprehend their mutterings.
"Where did you put it?" The voice of the District 2 boy is a low growl, full of spite. He is speaking to the boy from 9, and shoves him viciously. The smaller boy falls hard and scuttles back on his hands and knees.
"I swear! I didn't take it!" the boy moans, hiding his face in his hands. My attention is suddenly averted to a small motion above us. I am shocked by the appearance of Rue hanging upside-down from her knees on a rafter, clutching a wickedly long blade in her tiny, but capable hands. Off to the side is Poppy, barely containing her laughter, with the biggest smile I have ever seen her wear stretching from ear to ear.
"Where did you put my sword?" District 2 asks, his voice rising to a shriek. The other boy is trembling now, tears threatening to spill from his wide blue eyes. I can contain myself any longer and a smirk breaks out on my face. Suddenly, the menacing boy rounds on me.
"Are you laughing, 12? Think it's funny, do you? You hide my sword, 12?" He grabs me by the shirt and shoves me back, continuing to speak. "Is it funny now? Is it?" He strikes me across the face and, as I reel backwards, I am launching into painful memories of me in the same position with my mother. Burning bread. Being kicked outside to feed it to the pigs. Seeing an emaciated Katniss rummaging through my trash, and then chucking her the burned bread. She didn't even look at me, but I loved her even more.
I am awakened from my memories by the faint grunts as two peacekeepers fight to hold back a struggling giant. I jump at the sound of whispers in my ear, and feel the thin arms of Poppy lugging me away from the scene. We slip behind a huge mat and I sink to the ground, clutching my aching cheek. Poppy is staring at me curiously.
"Sorry," she whispers finally. I can tell she really is, and blames herself for the huge boy's attack.
"It wasn't your fault," I console, but she still looks at me mournfully. We are both startled by Rue, who drops quickly from the ceiling, gripping a small satchel. She hands it to me, and I realize it is a small packet of ice. Gratefully, I press it against my face, which has already begun to swell and bruise. She slips down beside me, and the similar girls look at me with identical confused expressions.
"Why?" Rue asks. "Why didn't you rat us out?" The genuinely don't understand. My brows furrow before I answer.
"You guys didn't do anything. I provoked him by smiling. And I wouldn't have told him you stole it anyway. We're friends." They smile at my response. At least they accept it. I wonder what it says about me that I have only associated with 12 and 13-year-olds since the reaping. I wonder what Katniss thinks about me, if she even thinks about me at all. It's not likely.
The days, possibly the last few of my life, pass by much too quickly for my liking. All too soon it is the third day, and we are preparing for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. After lunch, we are herded into a waiting room outside the Training Center and are forced to wait as, one by one, our names are called to perform. We go in numerical order, one district after another, girl boy, girl boy. Which makes me last. Every Career comes out of the room with a satisfied grin on their faces, which intimidates us all. We both wish good luck to Rue.
Finally, Poppy and I are left alone. We sit in tense silence and Poppy's feet jiggle a bit as she waits nervously. A woman with a line of dark triangles instead of eyebrows enters the room.
"Poppy Glades!" The way she says it reminds me too much of the reaping, and I try to refrain from delving into those memories again. I wish the small child good luck and tell her to give it all she's got. She looks at me, attempting to smile, trying to tell me how glad she is for my support. It's at least 10 minutes until my name is called. The Center is large and dark when it's abandoned. The Gamemakers still sit on their raised platforms, most of them drunk, a couple passed out already. None of them pay any attention to me, so I announce myself.
"Peeta Mellark, District 12," I declare. I'm met with no response; they are too busy conversing, gorging themselves, and napping. I sigh and head to the camouflage section; if they aren't going to mind me it's better I do something I actually enjoy. I swirl paints, berry juice, and mud across my body until I blend into the maroon wall behind me, but the Gamemakers don't even notice I have disappeared. Next I paint myself into a fake tree. I see I have confused some of them, which probably isn't an actual feat because they are already inebriated. Starting to despair, I end up heading to the weights section.
Since training began I have not even set foot in this area, staying true to my word to Haymitch. Not that I wanted to. I don't see weightlifting as a commendable achievement. I pick a couple of 50 pounders up and juggle them, ignored again. Next are the 100's. These fly all the way across the room. Seeing that I have finally caught a couple of their eyes, I decide for an ultimate finale. I grab a 200 pound weight in each hand and send them into the air. They make it about halfway across the room, which is not bad. One particularly tipsy woman struggles to her feet and applauds me giddily before swaying and collapsing into the lap of a man. Unsure of what to do, I stand there until the Gamemakers begin to clasp each other's arms and sing.
That's when I leave.