You're losing your memory now
You're losing your memory now
The second day of training begins, and as usual, the Careers run to their maces and axes and swords like a mouse goes to cheese.
Haymitch and I smirk at each other a little, because today, we won't be concentrating on weapons. We'll be doing the sensible thing – learning how to start a fire, climb a tree. Survival skills that we never got the chance to learn, because the electrified fence beyond District 12 is off-limits.
"How about we tie some knots?" I suggest.
"Sure," Haymitch agrees, and we make our way to the knot-tying station.
The instructor is a mousy-haired young woman, who seems nice enough. First, she does a basic tying-your-shoelaces type of knot. Then, she moves onto a more complex knot, ideal for constructing a net out of, to trap prey. And finally, a noose.
"Ready to try it on your own?" She smiles at us.
We nod and she hands us three metre-long lines of rope. We copy her actions from before, and I'm pleased to see I've made a perfect replica of each knot.
"Very good, Maysilee!" The instructor says happily. She turns away from me to examine Haymitch's work, which is also spot-on. "Excellent work, Haymitch!" she compliments him, and I notice her voice turns more flirty, like when some of the girls at school talk to boys. "You have very clever hands."
"Thanks." Haymitch flashes her a winning smile, and the instructor's cheeks turn a little pink.
I fight back the sudden urge to slap her in her stupid face. What stops me is remembering that Haymitch is not mine to be protective of. But I can't help being horrendously jealous. So I just satisfy my emotions by glowering at the instructor for the remainder of the lesson.
Then, we're taught how to tie yet more knots. Ones we'll never use and ones that we'll surely need at some point for the rest of our very short lives.
Thankfully, after that, the lesson is over and we march away from the station, the instructor's eyes follow Haymitch as he walks away, I notice.
"So, what'd you think of knot-tying?" Haymitch asks.
I shrug, folding my arms. "It was okay, I guess." Actually, it was more than okay, because as it turned out, I excelled at it. One of the only things I was good at so far. But obviously, that's not the reason I was being so surly. "The instructor was annoying."
"Really?" Haymitch says. "I thought she was cute."
I whip around to face him, and see that he's fighting back laughter.
"You're laughing at me," I tell him flatly, clenching my fists.
"I'm not laughing at you, sweetheart." He grins at me.
I narrow my eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you're a jealous little thing," he counters, but I can tell by looking at his expression that he's joking.
I can feel my own cheeks turning bright red. "I'm not jealous! You don't even-"
"Oh, come on," he interrupts. "She was clearly flirting with me, and you looked like you wanted to rip her head off."
"Yes, well, she should've been concentrating on the demonstration, not trying to get into your pants," I spit.
He chuckles. "Let it go, sweetheart. Besides, I'll always prefer you." He grins a little, but before I can ask if he's joking or not, he struts off over to the tree-climbing station.
I am satisfied to see Haymitch has no talent whatsoever in the tree-climbing department. He's too tall, too muscular to navigate the nimblest of the fake wooden branches that decorate the artificial trees. I, however, am well able for it. I've always been slight for a merchant girl, so climbing trees is something that I can manage.
"You're good at this," Haymitch comments as I hop down from a low-lying branch. "For someone who's never been beyond the fence before."
I furrow my eyebrows. "Why? Have you ever been beyond the fence?"
He shakes his head.
I smirk a little. "Really? I would've thought a daredevil like you would've done that."
The side of his mouth raises a little. "Sweetheart, I'm a 'daredevil' – as you put it – not an idiot."
"Not much of a daredevil, then," I say. "Daredevils are up for anything, aren't they?"
"Well." He grins. "I guess I'm a daredevil in that respect, because-" He leans forward to whisper in my ear. "- I'm up for anything, sweetheart."
His breath tickles my cheek and I resist the urge to blush, although I'm probably beet red.
After lunch, we go to the fire-starting station. A duo of the girls from 6 are also there, along with the boy from 10 and the girl from 3. The instructor – a balding middle-aged man – warns us about starting fires in the arena. While a source of heat and protection from harsh weather, igniting a fire in the arena is basically sending off a signal to everyone in the area – "Come and get me! I'm ready to die now!" So he tells us to only light a fire if it's a life or death situation, and even then, make sure it remains small in size.
And on that happy note, he leads us over to a small artificial plot of land where we can stoke tiny fires. After rubbing two sticks together for what seems like hours, Haymitch sighs and takes them off of me.
After a little bit of attrition, a small fire breaks out over a pile of wood. Haymitch grins at me teasingly.
"Shut up," I mutter, a little bit jealous of his excellent fire-starting abilities.
"Aw, don't look so sad, sweetheart," he coos. "It's not like starting fires is that necessary. Besides, it's more likely to get you killed than save your life."
"No," I protest. "It'll warm me up. I mean, what if the arena uniforms are... I don't know, skimpy underwear or something?" It's ridiculous, but it's all I can think of.
He eyes me up a little before answering. "Well, if that's the case, I'll be looking to be your ally, sweetheart." He smiles slightly.
The last day of training consists of Haymitch and I heading back to the weaponry stations and practising our preferred weapons all over again. After more encouragement and teachings from both Haymitch and the instructor, I'm able to earn a rewarding bulls-eye with various types of knives. Haymitch, on the other hand, opts for both a knife and an axe, since he's pretty good with both.
I don't know how Trey and Astrid are getting along, but from the looks of things, they seem to be becoming relatively good friends. I've seen them from across the Training Center, going round to all the different stations. They seem to have a nice brother/sister relationship.
"So, what are you thinking of showing the Gamemakers?" I ask, watching carefully as Haymitch thrusts a hefty-looking axe into the stomach of a dummy.
He shrugs, then walks over and pulls the axe out of the dummy oh so casually, like this is something he does all the time. "This, I suppose." He gestures to the axe in his hand, which is coated in tufts of orange fluff from the dummy's insides. "You?"
"Probably some knife-throwing," I tell him. "I might climb a tree or two, if I have the time."
"What, you're not going to throw a few axes?" He says teasingly, waving one around in his hand.
I wince, remembering the minor injury I'd received as a result of yielding axes that were far too big for someone my size. "No, thanks. Not if you have to do that... massage thing again."
He grins. "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind doing that again, sweetheart."
At dinner that night, Brandon is eager to know what each of us will be doing during our private sessions. As always, he goes to Astrid first.
"I'm going to do some camouflage," she says confidently. "And light a few fires, because Trey says I'm good at that." She smiles at Trey happily.
"Good," Brandon says. "And you, Trey?"
"I'll throw some spears," he replies. "My aim's gotten better over the last few days."
"Maysilee?" Brandon moves on.
"Knife-throwing," I respond immediately. "And I'll climb some trees, too, I guess."
"Knife-throwing?" Brandon repeats, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "I thought you said you couldn't handle a weapon, Blondie."
"Well, Haymitch...helped me a little," I mumble.
"Right." Brandon nods and turns to Haymitch. "And you, boy?"
"Same as her," Haymitch answers flatly, pointing at me from across the table. "Knife-throwing."
"Hmm," Brandon muses for a moment. "Two people from the same district doing the same thing in their private sessions." His face suddenly lights up with a grin. "I guess we'll just have to see who's the best, right, boys and girls?"
"Haymitch," I reply instantly, while Haymitch says, "Maysilee."
I blush like an idiot.
The next morning I am roused by the sound of my bedroom door opening, and the clip-clopping of some very familiar high-heels.
"Marianna!" I gasp, pulling the blanket up around my body.
She's standing at the foot of my bed, lips pursed, hands on hips. "I told you to come down to breakfast ten minutes ago, Maysilee."
"Oh," I murmur, vaguely remembering her banging on the door, my waking up, and falling back asleep again. "Sorry, Marianna. I'll just - um - get dressed."
"You'd better," she says firmly, stalking out of the room.
In a short while, I am at the breakfast table, accompanied by my fellow district partners, Brandon and Marianna. We're all stuffing ourselves with delicious, filling Capitol food in an attempt to hide our awful nerves.
Because I am truly, truly nervous. What if I mess up and miss the bulls-eye? More than once? What if the Gamemakers think my knife-throwing skills are mediocre at best?
As I coat my fourth or fifth roll in jam, my hands begin to shake uncontrollably and the knife I'm holding clatters to the table. The others barely look up. But Haymitch, seeing the state I'm in, reaches out and pats my other hand under the table.
"It'll be okay, sweetheart," he reassures me quietly. But I can see his grey eyes are also full of apprehension.
When the clock strikes ten, Marianna walks us briskly down to the gymnasium. But this time, we are not allowed enter. We are told to wait outside until our names are called. Marianna wishes us good luck and leaves. The other tributes are relaxing on a long bench pressed against the wall, so we join them at the end of the bench.
"Don't be scared," Haymitch says, sitting down beside me. "Everything will be okay." I can see the determination in his eyes, but also a tiny glint of fear.
"Are you saying this for me or for you?" I laugh lightly, but my voice catches at the end.
He looks up at me. "Both, I guess." He's completely free from sarcastic comments today, which I'm sort of glad for. But at the same time, Haymitch wouldn't really be Haymitch if his personality was completely devoid of sarcasm.
Then, they call the first tribute. The girl from District 1. An invisible computer voice says, "Tatianna Breslin," and a blonde-haired girl rises from the bench, looking dauntless. Her fellow Careers encourage her, saying things like "Remember to use the bow, Tatianna" and "Behead every dummy!" The girl walks into the gymnasium.
"One down, forty-seven to go," Haymitch says.
The minutes pass by, and slowly, one by one, the tributes step into their private sessions. Some look terrified, others – like the Careers – look defiant. Haymitch and I are the first from 12 to go in, since we were the first boy and girl to be reaped from our district.
And then, unexpectedly, the computerized voice calls out, "Maysilee Donner."
My heart skips a beat or two. I rise, trying to keep as calm as I possibly can. I'm just taking my first few steps, when I hear a familiar voice behind me say "Hey."
I turn around, and Haymitch continues, "Good luck, sweetheart."
I smile at him, now truly feeling confident knowing that he believes in me. Trey and Astrid are giving each other meaningful looks, like they know Haymitch and I are more than friends. Or like each other as more than friends, anyway.
In the blink of an eye, I've reached the end of the long corridor. Taking a deep breath, I walk inside.
The gymnasium looks strange when it's not filled with dozens of tributes and instructors. Empty, somehow. In fact, the place is completely empty of people, other than myself, the Gamemakers, and a couple of attendants on hand, in case we want to demonstrate some hand-to-hand combat with a partner.
I walk a little further, and I can see the Gamemakers craning their necks to get a good look at me. I suddenly feel overwhelmed and somewhat intimidated by their drawn-out stares. What little impression I must make on them, an average-sized girl from District 12. But hopefully, that'll all change when they see my knife-throwing.
I step over to the vast selection of weapons on display. They're all laid out for me on various different shelves, not spread out like they were during training. I pull my eyes downward, and finally find what I'm looking for.
A shiny, sharp knife with a black blade. It looks exactly like the one I used during training. Maybe it is the very same one.
I pick the knife up and head over to a nearby target. I stand a few metres away from it, not too far away, not too close. I grip the knife tightly in my right hand.
Then, with all of the strength I can muster, I throw the knife right at the target. I stop myself from squealing out loud in delight when I see that it hits the bulls-eye.
The Gamemakers don't say anything, but I can see I've gotten their attention now. A purple-haired man whispers something to a plump woman, but I try not to get paranoid about what they could be saying.
I do this over and over again, thrusting knives into the targets. Out of the six times I throw knives, I hit the bulls-eye five times.
I glance at the clock on the wall and see I still have a couple of minutes left. I can sense the Gamemakers may be getting bored with my constant knife-throwing, so I run over to the tree-climbing station, where I begin to scale a tree.
After a while, I've reached the very tip-top of the tree. I balance there for a few seconds, before one of the Gamemakers – the Head Gamemaker, I presume – says, "You may go now, Miss Donner."
I quickly climb down from the tree and, when I've reached the bottom, bow respectfully to the Gamemakers, just like Marianna instructed.
Although the last thing I want to do is bow at the monstrous human beings before me.
After dinner – which consisted of an in-depth account of his spear-throwing skills, courtesy of Trey – Marianna leads us into the living room, where our scores will be broadcast.
"Now remember," Brandon says as we settle ourselves on the luxurious leather couch, "These scores are important. If sponsors are thinking about backing a certain tribute, the first thing they'll do is check out your training score. Hopefully, none of you screwed up too badly."
He grins at us a little cruelly. He opens his mouth to say more, but then the TV automatically switches on, and Caesar Flickerman is there – the ever present host of the Hunger Games – is on screen.
He says a few words about how pleased President Snow is with this years' tributes so far. Our skill, our courage, our determination. I tune out for most of that part, because I couldn't give a damn what the President thinks about the new, disposable crop of recruits brought in to die for his disgusting form of entertainment.
I come back into focus when Caesar begins to announce the scores. The Careers all earn scores of eight or up, which isn't much of a surprise. The majority of the other tributes earn around the four to six ratio, but a couple earn a little more than that.
However, I really begin to listen when Caesar moves onto the District 12 tributes.
"First up from District 12, the lovely Maysilee Donner," Caesar announces, then pauses for dramatic effect. "A score of... eight."
I gasp loudly, and the others congratulate me and pat me on the back. An eight! I'm grinning from ear to ear like an idiot, but I don't care.
"Next is Haymitch Abernathy, with a rather impressive score of nine," Caesar continues.
A huge, triumphant scream is let out by Marianna, and we're all congratulating Haymitch on his excellent score.
Then, Caesar ends the show by revealing Astrid's score – a six - and Trey's score – a seven. He reminds everyone to tune in tomorrow night for the televised interviews, and the TV flickers off.
"You all did brilliantly," Brandon says proudly, and he sounds like he really is happy for us. "Congratulations." He turns to Haymitch. "Even you, boy."
"Now, off to bed everyone!" Marianna chirps. "It's been a lovely, eventful day, but tomorrow will be even more amazing, I promise!" She beams around at us. "You kids need your rest!"
Brandon, Marianna, Trey and Astrid head off to their quarters, leaving Haymitch and I alone on the couch together. The ceiling lights are switched off, so it's quite dark in the living room.
"You did great," I whisper to him. "Even Brandon was impressed."
"So did you," he says sincerely. Then, he's back to his heavily sarcastic self. "But you weren't as good as me, obviously."
I scoff, but I'm grinning. "Oh, I could never be as good as you, Haymitch," I taunt.
"Nope," he agrees with a wink.
"You nervous about tomorrow?" I ask. "The – the interviews, I mean."
Haymitch shakes his head. Nothing fazes this boy. "Nah. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? My pants fall down on national TV?"
I stifle back laughter. "I'd like to see that."
"So would a lot of people, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Like the knot-tying instructor..." He trails off suggestively.
"Oh, don't mention that woman!" I giggle. "She was just..." I shudder. "Irritating."
"Mm, so was that knife-throwing instructor," he says. "The one who was looking at you like... like you were a piece of meat or something." He rolls his eyes.
"We're such jealous people," I laugh.
"Only for each other," he adds.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile. "Yeah. Only...only for each other."
I look up, and it's only then that I realize how close we are. The couch is huge – it could probably seat a couple of dozen people. Yet we're all cozied up together. Our noses are almost touching.
Haymitch begins to lean in a little, not that there was much leaning in required in the first place. I close my eyes, and our lips have almost met when I pull away. I look away from him so that he can't see the tears in my eyes. I grip the side of the couch tightly.
"Haymitch, we can't," I whisper hoarsely.
"Why?" he mumbles back, but he knows the answer.
"You know why," I say. "We...we shouldn't even be friends. I mean, we're going to have to kill each other in a few days!"
I bury my head in my hands and begin to cry. I've held back tears for the past few days now, and suddenly they're all beginning to pour out in one big, ugly, unattractive mess.
I'm bawling so hard I don't even notice Haymitch is pulling me closer to him. His strong arms are around me, shielding me from the horrors of the world. I lean my head into his shoulder, my tears soaking his shirt, but he doesn't seem to care.
"Ssh," he murmurs. "Ssh, sweetheart, I've got you. I've got you." His voice is soothing, and eventually calms me down.
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer, sitting up a little, but his arms are still wrapped around me. "I-I just..." I wipe my eyes, sniffling hard. I feel like the biggest baby in the world.
"I know, sweetheart," he says softly. "I know."
A/N: You have no idea how painful that last bit was to write! :'( But I have a little question for you guys, and I'd really appreciate if you'd answer it, because I have to know your opinion on this, okay? Well, the question is: do you think I should make Maysilee and Haymitch have an alliance from the very beginning of the actual Games, or should I just stick to canon and have them meet up halfway through? Just leave your answer in a review, please, along with a little thought or two on this chapter? Thanks. :)