It's late morning, and I'm in the meal car picking at my food. My irritation with Crispus' response, or rather the lack there of, to my song yesterday is still sitting heavily with me. Out of pride, I'm doing my best to ignore the Capitol delicacies, and instead drink plain milk and nibble at my district's distinctly crescent shaped rolls. It seems so wasteful not to attack the entire table and secure its contents in my stomach, but my will wins this battle. Thresh sits diagonally from me at the table, clearly not repulsed by the never-ending, lavish foods based on how high he has piled the colorful foods on his plate. I'm honestly surprised at the restraint he shows while eating it- we're both from the same starving district, but he takes his time with his food. Any other kids from home would be eating themselves sick, and fast.
Seeder is across from me, constructing a hearty sandwich with the cuts of meat and rolls of bread the table presents. Chaff is likely sleeping off his hangover; my only memory of him as a mentor for any of the past games is that he was rolling drunk, though not as much as the only victor and mentor of District 12. Crispus enters the car with a flourish and twists his plump lips into a wide grin. I can't help but think that they're not real, at least not really his. He babbles about our schedule and the only thing that I really catch is that we'll be arriving in a few hours.
I take this time to pull Seeder aside and talk with her one on one a bit. I'm more comforted by her appearance than I think I would be; it feels like I have one of my ma's relations with me, and though I'm still hesitant, I feel like I can be open with her. Soon I realize that we've walked to my room and are just standing in its center wordlessly. I swallow the lump of nerves that gathered in my throat and lock my eyes onto hers.
"I have to win. I have to come home." Her eyes soften, and I'm a bit irritated at the hint of pity they display. No, what am I talking about- Seeder has been through everything I am preparing to go through. Not pity, sympathy. I swallow again. My next request goes so against who I am, who I've been these last few years. "Please help me."
Seeder surprises me when she steps forward and grasps my hands. She ducks her body a bit to get down to my height, another reminder of just how small, malnourished I am. "I will help you, Katniss. I will do the best I can, I promise." She doesn't promise me that she will win, and for that I'm grateful. She promises to help. She won the games before. I know I can't blame the lack of District 11 victors on her mentoring, but the fact there have been few does give me pause. Relying simply on her will not do, but I also haven't planned on it. I squeeze her hands and she gets my meaning, my thanks.
The train suddenly darkens and I find myself stumbling after Seeder back into the meal car. Shafts of light start streaking past the windows until we get a clear view of the Capitol closing in, all candy colored buildings and glass and metal. It's like another world. Seeder puts her hand on my shoulder so I turn my head to her.
"You don't strike me as the type who will like this too much, but I need you to wave and smile at the folks we'll be pulling in past." She's right, I don't like it. Thresh remains impassive and I'm struck with an almost childish jealousy. Thresh is who I want to be right now- intimidating, unmoving, stoic. Strong. Next to him, I'm so small, so slight, that it would be a complete joke to try and imitate his body language or pose. I pass by the start of the crowd cheering into our window with an emotionless expression before I finally give in to Seeder's suggestion. I try to smile, but find I can't do much more than a stiff grin, and hold my arm up, palm outward. I can't bring myself to wave, but at least my body language is more open, probably more like what she wants me to do. I steal a look at Thresh from the corner of my eyes. Yep, still jealous.
We're pulling in to the train station quicker than I'd like, and just like that we're sucked into the fast paced life of a tribute in the Capitol. It's not until I'm laying unmoving on a table, getting slathered in pungent ointments and having the fine hairs all over my body removed that I bother to start paying attention. I'm overcome with the urge to curse at them and push them away, but I keep myself calm by repeating Seeder's order in my mind. Go along with everything they say; making it easy on them makes it much easier for you.
Soon, though not soon enough, they're done grinding away at and powdering me and I'm lead to and left in another room, shiny and naked like a little baby except for what they smeared onto my face. A man walks through the door, looking as flamboyant as every other person I've seen so far in the Capitol. He sort of paces around me and I'm suddenly nervous what kind of a costume I'm to wear at tonight's tribute parade. Typically District 11 dresses in what appears to be idealized harvesting gear- long overalls for the boys, overalls with skirts for the girls.
One year, the stylists decided to amp up the sex appeal of the tributes, by having them sparsely covered in leaves with gaudy miniature fruit hanging from... certain areas. At least our tributes weren't fully exposed, not like the year that District 12 were naked except for black powder, coal dust I suppose, covering their bodies. I almost feel as if he is paying too much attention to my nudity and am struck with the fear that I will be stuck on a chariot wearing only a basket full of apples on my back.
To my great relief he finally produces the tried and true District 11 garb- overalls with a flared skirt, too short for my liking, and a white and blue gingham blouse. He helps me dress and at first means to leave too much of my blouse open. I suppose I can count myself lucky that never eating enough, in combination with my mother's slight build, didn't leave me particularly blessed in terms of my bust. The opened buttons merely leave me looking like a child playing dress-up, so I am happy that he buttons it up to my collarbone. He crowns me with a leafy wreath decorated with apples and oranges before showing me myself in the mirror.
I sort of look like a character out of a children's book. The blouse is far too starched to be comfortable to move my arms in, and I would never be able to climb trees and pick fruits with this ridiculous skirt on. Not without losing most of my dignity, at least. I think the makeup I don't remember the stylist's team putting on me looks garish- pale pink lips, light powder around my eyes to brighten them, and so much blush on my cheeks. I figure they want me to look like a young, rosy, healthy worker. Instead I look like a clown. The wreath, at least, is lovely to look at, though the juicy looking fruit are making me very hungry.
As if on cue, my stomach growls and my stylist leads me to a couch in front of a table. He pushes buttons and it is suddenly laden with a wide variety of food, most of it foreign to my eyes. I choose a stew, lamb and plum, and content myself with only that and some bread. The stew is rich and delicious, and I know right away that I will over indulge. I'm careful to take my time and force some grace into my actions, what with the looks I'm getting every time the spoon comes to my mouth. Before I take my next spoonful, I spread my napkin across my chest and lap in an effort to appease him. It works.
Dinner is over far to soon, and I journey with my stylist, Vitus as my prep team called him, to the stables to get ready for the chariot ride that's meant to show the tributes off. Thresh is there before me, wearing long overalls and no shirt. One look at his stylist answers any question I might have about his shirtlessness- her eyes are greedily taking in every inch of uncovered male flesh in the stables.
I walk to our horses, both a rich brown color, and run my hands along their snouts. Anything to calm me down right now. I look around at the other tributes around me. District 1 looks dazzling, as can be expected from a district that creates luxury items. The two tributes from District 2 look like warriors, which only drives the point that the careers from the higher districts are so much taller than me, better fed. District 8 makes textiles, their tributes are covered in layer after layer of cloth.
Vitus comes over and escorts me back to the chariot's opening by my elbow, "You're a sour girl, Katniss Fields. You have a face that looks like it's never experienced a smile." I scowl at him, but don't shake him off as he assists me into my vehicle. "I'm not saying this to make you angry. Just... a piece of advice for you- those people out there could be potential sponsors. Try to smile and wave, I know you have it in you." With that he's suddenly gone from my side and Thresh steps up next to me. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes. In another world we could be brother and sister. The chariot lurches forward, and I look straight ahead, hands gripping the chariot tightly to keep me from falling off.
Unsurprisingly, we barely garner any attention. Though I smile stiffly and wave occasionally, I know that any attention our chariot draws is directed towards my fellow tribute. He's what a tribute, what a victor should be- tall and strong. He didn't receive advice to look friendly or likeable. I feel a familiar strain in my chest. Jealously. Looking to the sides I see the sudden light from behind us. I know it's bad form to turn my head, so I look instead to the screens along either side of the road. District 12 is on fire. Earlier I had barely paid them any attention- they were dressed all in black, the only notable object of clothing being their flame colored capes. But now it was clear what they were meant to represent- the surprisingly often forgotten use for coal. Fire.
I don't know how I manage to keep smiling and waving, but half way to our destination I give up the pursuit. Primrose. Peeta. The District 12 tributes' names are on everyone's lips. If I was in the crowd, I imagine I would be chanting their names as well. Instead, I stand in my chariot, hands stiff and tense in front of me, staring at each passing screen to see more of the two. Their blonde hair seems alight with the orange glow of their costumes, their blue eyes appear to be the hottest part of the flames, red and yellow, that lick at their shining faces. I register that we are stopped, below the balcony of President Snow. He addresses us and I feel myself frown. He's a small man, slim, with white hair and unnaturally puffy lips. I drown out his voice and focus instead on the sound of my breathing, the sound of the horses snorting.
We return from the stables, and I turn my eyes to Primrose and Peeta again, watching their flames get extinguished by their stylists. A quick look around shows that they've caught everyone's attention. A knot forms in my throat and I realize that they're becoming marked as targets as we speak. Seeing her in person, Primrose still has some quality that reminds me of Rue. She looks fearful but strong willed; she doesn't have Rue's musculature. But then again, I don't know if they have many trees to climb in District 12, never mind the fact that their job isn't to climb trees.
Thresh and I join Vitus, Seeder, Chaff, and the female stylist in the elevator and go up to our quarters. We watch the recap of the parade, and the focus falls again on District 12. Their stylists are geniuses. Even now, watching this a second time, I'm in awe at how otherworldly they look. Soon the events of the day take their toll on me, and I follow Seeder down the hall where she shows me my room. She stops me from entering by placing her hand on my shoulder.
"You did good, Katniss. Tomorrow will start your training, I want to talk to you before we all meet for breakfast. I'll wake you." Our eyes meet, and for a brief moment she is transformed into my ma through my tired eyes. My hand drifts up on its own and my fingertips briefly touch her forearm. She squeezes my shoulder, that sad look in her eye again, and walks off. Sleep comes with great difficulty, but without knowing it I do eventually drift off. I wake up to Seeder entering my room and quickly sit up in bed. She gives me a soft smile and walks over to sit next to me.
"You will be training with the other tributes in the training center for three days, including today. Now would be a good time to tell me any skills you might possess." Her golden eyes are fierce, and I can't help but think that something has changed in her since yesterday. Chaff has been an alcoholic as long as I can remember, and it finally strikes me that Seeder is probably the stronger, if not healthiest, of the less popular districts' victors. I think of my skill with throwing knives, noodling, line fishing... but none of it seems of any use, really. Never mind the fact that they are all illegal activities. I consider Seeder again. She's not too much taller than me, and I imagine she's only as strong and healthy as she is because she's a victor, because she lives with luxuries such as having enough food to eat now. She's like me, she knows what it's like to be hungry. My mind is set.
"Um, I'm pretty good at noodling and alright at fishing with a line. I work in the orchards with my siblings, so I'm good at climbing trees. I'm small enough that I can jump from one to the other. I'm... alright at throwing knives, I guess. Good enough to hunt with, on the occasion that I felt safe enough to." She considers me, absentmindedly stroking her chin with her hand.
"Anything else?" she asks, "Anything that's defensive?" I ponder a bit at the question- I've never divided my skills into offensive and defensive.
"Well, I know some basic healing, I can recognize plants alright. I... I sneak out at night to get some extra food for my family."
Seeder nods at me contemplatively, "I don't question that you do, there's what? Eight of you?" She flattens her skirt over her knees. "The quality that victors from the lower districts have in common is resourcefulness, for the most part. While you're in training, focus on survival. The stations I absolutely want you to go to are edible plants and insects, fire making, fishing, knots, and shelters. This will give you a good idea of what to expect in the arena.
"Don't show off what you know. I want to tell you to stay away from the knife station, but you don't seem entirely confident in your skills. Go only when the Careers are busy or distracted with other weapons. Go to the slingshot station too, it would come in handy to know how to at least make a small weapon."
I nod quietly. It seems like a small victory, getting Seeder to give me tips so readily. She never gave off the feeling of being uncaring, but I think that maybe she sees me and considers that she is not sending off another child to their death. Maybe this one has a chance. She gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and steps out of my room again. I fumble for a few minutes in the overly complicated Capitol shower and finally find a simple setting. I try not to waste time and dry myself off before stepping back into the room, looking at the training clothing my stylist has no doubt had sent to me.
I put on my undergarments before slipping into the stretchy black pants and pulling the loose yellow tunic over my head. As I move to slip on the shoes I notice with satisfaction that my clothing allows me a lot of flexibility. I peer at my reflection in the mirror and frown. I have flexibility, yes, but at the expense of looking like a bee. I pull my hair into a braid as I exit my room and walk to the food laden table in the center of our quarters. I chug down water and eat two rolls of bread before even bothering to focus on any other food. I grab some sausages and give in to the temptation to try coffee. My dad loves to drink it, but it's been harder to be able to afford getting any for a long time. He drinks his black, so I try the same.
It's disgusting. Seeder sits close to me and I hear her gently laugh at the expression my face forced itself into. She reaches over to me and I see her drop sugar cubes and pour some milk into my cup. Unsure that this would have any positive effect, I stir the concoction with a small spoon before trying it again. It's better than okay, it's actually good. I don't think it's as good as my ma's home made fruit tea, but it's definitely better for preparing me for the day.
By the time Crispus has piled Thresh and I into the elevator that lowers us to the Training Center, I feel what can only be described as an electrical buzz coursing through my body. I'm very awake and very alert. Crispus doesn't exit the elevator with us, Thresh and I simply make our way forward to the growing crowd of tributes. The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 have already crowded together and are surveying the rest of us like vultures. Thresh and I are here somewhat early, but they seem to already have dismissed me as a threat and instead focus on his impressive build.
Instead of worrying myself with the already formed Career pack, I pay intention instead to the rest of the tributes trickling in. The girl from 5 catches my attention; she's got bright red hair and a sly, fox-like face. The boy from 10, he's got a club foot and I can't help but frown. The Hunger Games know no mercy. Both from 12 come last, both dressed in matching green tunics. Their stylists are really playing up this whole twin angle.
Our pool of tributes now complete, I turn my attention back to who must be the lead trainer. I zone out while she speaks to us, instead finding my attention drawn to the weapons stations. The knives gleam in the harsh, florescent lighting of the center, but what draws my attention are the bows and arrows at the archery station. Pa used to have a box and arrows when he was younger, which he made himself. He was discovered and it was destroyed; pa got away with just some lashings, a light punishment compared to the death that would surely come of it today. He taught me stances, but I never had a chance myself to try it out. Maybe there would be a chance now.
With a start I realize that the tributes are all spreading away from the center, ready to try out the different stations. Thresh has beat one of the Careers, a boy from 2 I think, to the sword station and is listening intently to what the trainer has to say. I see the girl from 1 has attached herself to the archery station, and reluctantly make my way over to edible plants and insects. With a relief I notice that a lot of the plants the trainer shows me are familiar. I listen intently and take mental notes, and when she gives me a test with the bushes they have set up at the station I pass with flying colors. Edible insects is nearby, so I take the few steps to the next trainer.
This station is very new for me, but I am grateful to learn that I will still be able to get protein somehow in the arena, should I not find a weapon to hunt with. It takes longer to process and store all of the information he gives me, but sure enough I am able to pass his small test as well. The other stations that Seeder suggested as all taken, and I see that the girl from 2 is very focused on knives. Very skilled with them, too.
I frown and look around before deciding to go to the camouflage station. At this station, we use a variety of nature provided objects. As I walk over, I see the boy from 12, Peeta, walking over to the cleaning station. His arm and hand look exactly like a trees bark, and I'm incredibly impressed. Turns out he likely came to the station with skill, because none of my attempts come close to his. I have the advantage that my brown skin is more likely to blend in with the trees, but that is about where it ends.
Soon enough we break for lunch, and I take my tray of food to an isolated table. I see that Primrose and Peeta sit close to me, and I keep my ears perked at their conversation while I eat. The food is alright, but I'm mostly just happy to see the familiar District 11 bread here. As I take my first bite, I see Peeta pour out the basket of bread on their table and explain each rolls origin. I discretely sift through my own basket as he does so, curious to know which is which. The rest of lunch is uneventful, and worse is the training afterward.
I still find no opportunity to satisfy my curiosity at the archery station, and the girl from 2 has gone right back to monopolize the knife station. Instead I climb around on various machines for the next few hours. Years of working in trees and jumping around make this easy for me, more so because everything is meticulously arranged and placed. The afternoon spent in the training center is unremarkable, and I'm almost relieved to be released back to our quarters.
One day down, two more to go.
Sorry that this took so long! I'm moving to a new apartment and starting classes, so it's been a bit hectic. I promise that the next one won't take so long!
Thank you for the comments, particularly to Anonymous- thank you for the corrections! I double read the chapters before I post them, but it's easy to gloss over mistakes if you make them. Anyone who notices them, please point them out!