Chapter 20:
After hearing what Paavo told me, I am a nervous wreck. Prim, in the mouth of the Cornucopia, fetching weapons in the midst of the bloodbath? I think back to just under one year ago, and my own Games experience, and how I froze at the sight of all of the other tributes running towards the same place, in hopes of grabbing the same things. This cannot be happening. It cannot. That night, I lay restless in bed, watching Prim sleep.
The next morning, before the final training session with the rest of the tributes, Haymitch, Peeta and I urge Prim and Paavo to keep an open dialogue with our alliance- since after this morning their interaction will be more limited until the arena. As of now, what we know about the alliance is still vague. Despite my desperate attempts last evening to convince anyone otherwise, Prim is planning to run directly into the Cornucopia (along with Annella, Joel, and Jack). The others will slowly disperse from the action when the gong sounds, and whoever makes it out with a weapon will essentially pretend to chase those tributes down with it; those watching won't immediately realize that they're on the same team. Assuming that at least a couple of weapons are retrieved, than the alliance should feel somewhat confident that a couple of the tributes will possess weapons on which they are the most skilled. Unfortunately, since no one has figured out any more about the arena, the tributes will be forced to devise some strategies on their own after that. We've given them lots of tips and ideas, but they will vary drastically depending on the environment of the arena. Our job in strategizing for Prim and Paavo will have ended by the time the gong sounds- except, of course, in obtaining sponsors.
Sponsors. I cringe at the thought that Prim will be demonstrating her skills for the Gamemakers this afternoon. What on earth can she show them that could gain her any favor at all in increasing her training score? Unless they have trees that she can climb, I can't think of anything. We've tried her on just about every District 12 weapon imaginable. Perhaps she'll do well with one of the other district's fancier hand-to-hand combat weapons since she won't actually be using it on another person, but it's a lot to hope for with no prior experience. While I'm convinced that her greatest strength is her healing ability and vast knowledge of plants, the idea of Prim explaining that knowledge to the Gamemakers during her 'audition' sounds about as boring as dirt.
My nervousness only intensifies when we are told that Prim and Paavo can eat lunch with us and have a short break if they wish prior to their private training sessions with the Gamemakers. Prim and Paavo report to us about their morning of training, where Prim finally picked up some weapons. She doesn't try to hide it from us- it went pretty awful. Her aim was as bad as ever, so her attempts at trying to shoot anything- from slingshots to darts- were wildly unsuccessful. She fared better with weapons that she could keep close to her body, as all of her training has made her pretty strong for her size. By her own admission she actually did fairly well with some of the smaller machetes- but Prim confesses to us at the lunch table that she still can't fathom using it on another person, trying to inflict harm with her own bare hands. I tell her that it is justified if it keeps her alive. She looks at me and shakes her head, eyes full of tears. I pull Prim aside from the others, kneel down until we are face-to-face, and put my hands on her narrow shoulders, looking at her intently.
"Prim, do you remember the last thing you told me before I left for the Games last year?"
She nods, eyes getting teary again. I say it anyway.
"You asked me to try to win. Really, really try. And you know what I told you?"
"You said you'd swear that you would," she says in a small voice.
"Prim," I begin, choking back tears, "I just want you to come home. You will try, too, won't you? Really, really, try?" I beg, echoing the words she spoke to me almost exactly one year ago.
She takes a second, and then finally nods. "I want to come home to you. And….I'm sorry about not practicing with hand-to-hand combat weapons earlier."
I nod, too. "It's okay," I say. "Just….try your hardest with the Gamemakers. You need to make an impression. Do something that they've never seen before."
Prim looks at me, wheels turning. She finally gives me a faint nod, eyes wide, understanding how serious this is. "Okay, I'll come up with something, I promise. Can I go in my room and think it over?"
I nod. "Sure."
Prim goes down the hall and leaves Haymitch, Effie, Peeta, and I to continue discussing strategy with Paavo- though his approach is relatively straightforward- knife-throwing and hand-to-hand combat are clearly Paavo's biggest strengths. Paavo eventually excuses himself, too- his nerves look as though they're at an all-time high. Private sessions for the Gamemakers will do that to you.
Haymitch, Effie, Peeta and I are all too anxious to say much over the rest of lunch. We chew our meals in silence and watch the minutes tick away. We're not the only ones- by the afternoon when we escort Prim and Paavo to the ground floor of the Training center, Paavo and Prim both look as scared as I've ever seen them. Clearly, the time they spent in their rooms didn't result in any earth-shattering ideas. Haymitch attempts to calm them with a few words of advice.
"Okay, Paavo, just remember everything that you went over with the Fish-Man," he began, "and make sure that the Gamemakers see you- especially your spin technique. Showing them your hand-to-hand combat skills won't hurt either- especially since you're a talented wrestler. You saw that Peeta was able to get an 8 last year just by throwing some heavy stuff around. Focus more on your knife-throwing, but be sure to do some lifting and throwing, too." Paavo nods in assent.
He gently puts a hand on Prim's shoulder. "Now sweetheart," I can't help but grin a bit as I see that Prim now has adopted my once-despised nickname, "you've been trained in a lot of areas, so even if you don't feel confident, remember that you have versatility, which is more valuable than you think. I know that your specialty is plants; I've spoken to the Gamemakers about providing some for your private session; just try to make it a little interesting, or at least keep it brief- don't stand there and drone on about them. If there are ropes, climb them- show off your agility. Also- you are a strong little girl- don't be afraid to try out the machete again- and you have the strength to throw- as long as there is a big enough target. For the love of God, don't aim for something small. Don't do anything where you have to really aim at all. Got it, sweetheart?"
Prim nods, trembling. Then, while we are standing outside of the elevator, we hear the name Silk from District 1 being called to summon him for his private session. The auditions have started.
We tell them to come back up to the sitting room as soon as they're finished. I give Prim a crushing hug and wish her luck, assuring her that she'll nail it. I don't believe my own words, but killing her confidence, already on life-support, won't accomplish anything. Paavo and Prim slowly walk down the hall as the elevator doors close.
I spend the entire afternoon pacing the floor of the sitting room while Peeta, Haymitch, and Effie rest on the couch. One, two, three hours tick by. Patience. District 12 is last, I try and reassure myself. But I simply cannot relax.
Finally, after what feels like a million years, Paavo enters the sitting room, with a little half-grin on his face. We all immediately rush to him. When we all ask in different ways how it went, he simply nods confidently and tells us that he hit all the targets that he tried, and was able to do some good wrestling and throwing. Yes! Haymitch practically jumps into the air. At least one District 12 tribute should get a decent training score.
It's a good forty-five more minutes before Prim makes an appearance- and even then, it's only a brief flash of her as she quickly goes down the hall- though not as quickly as usual. The first thing that I notice is that she is limping slightly, is ghastly pale, and that the entire leg of her pants is caked in dried blood. Since I am closest to the hallway, I try to follow her as she moves as nimbly as she can to her room, but she has too much of a head start. I catch only a brief glimpse of her face before she goes inside, but tears stream down her cheeks, somehow not budging some other dried blood that has affixed itself there.
"Prim!" I scream as I try to get in the room with her, comfort her. But the door slams in my face before I get the chance. I hear unfettered sobbing. I knock on her door, but she doesn't acknowledge me. "Prim! Are you all right? Tell me what happened! How did you hurt yourself?!" No response except for more sobbing. I feel powerless now, but I also remember how I felt after my audition; I certainly didn't want to discuss it with anyone, especially at first. But there's something I need to hear from her before I'm willing to walk away.
"Prim!" I yell again. "Just tell me that your leg is okay- and I'll leave you alone," I say. "You can fill us in later." It takes every bit of self-restraint I possess to leave it at that.
"It's okay," I hear her say after a minute between sobs, softly yet distinctly. And true to my word, as much as it kills me, I turn and walk back to the sitting room.
Cinna and Portia have joined us, and we are all eating dinner (well, I am pushing food around on my plate, pretending to eat, but in reality am far too anxious over what happened to Prim), when Prim eventually reappears, freshly changed, color in her cheeks. Though I want to immediately pounce on her about what happened, I manage to hold my tongue and let her speak first. Eventually she does.
"I cut myself with the machete," she says plainly.
Ouch. We all look at her sympathetically. Haymitch gently puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says in quite possibly the gentlest voice I have ever heard out of him, "I should have known, should never have advised you to use it- you just don't have enough experience, you were bound to get hurt. Let us see it."
"No, you don't understand," she says. "I cut myself on purpose. So that I could show them how I can heal it."