Chapter 5
I wake up with a knot in my hair. The conditioner they provide in my bathroom doesn't quite do the trick, so I spend a good twenty minutes brushing it out. My wavy hair falls to my elbows. I've forgotten how long it's become. When was the last time I got a haircut? It must have been a while ago. The last time I got a haircut was when I decided to go with short hair. My mom cut it for me and she cut it beautifully but I looked hysterical with short hair; it didn't suit my face. I cried and refused to go to school. My mom let me stay home for two or three days but then I had to go in and receive laughs and jeers from all the other students. They got over it though, and I've been growing my hair out ever since. All the way down to my elbows.
The breakfast is especially good today, but I can't eat a lot because I'm so nervous about our Training Sessions. They start at 2:00, so I'll go in at around 4:15. They give everyone fifteen minutes, unless they're satisfied with what the tribute has done in a shorter amount of time. That's what I'm most nervous about. If they're impressed, they might keep you longer to see more or send you away because they're already content with what you've done. If they think you're terrible, they might keep you longer to get a good laugh or send you away in disgust. You never really know they are thinking unless you can get a glimpse of their reactions. They try so hard to remain static about everything so you can't guess your score ahead of time. They want the scores to be a surprise to everyone. So, I eat a slice of toast and some strawberries, down a glass of water, and go back to my room. I try not to talk too much because my stomach is in knots and I don't feel like talking to Miranda, Charlie, Garry, Siarrah, Rootina, or even Billee about the Training Sessions. I just want some peace and quiet to mentally prepare myself.
During the day we cannot go to the Training Center. We have to sit and do whatever until all of the tributes are sent down to the waiting room outside of the Training Center, where they will announce us in one by one according to district and gender. Boys first, then girls. District One first, then Two.
While I'm in my room, I ask an Avox for cleaning supplies so I can clean my room. She seems hesitant but then leaves and shortly returns with a few rags, window cleaner, and a vacuum. My mother used to clean our house all the time. It was her way to think about plans for the week and do something while thinking. I feel as if doing the same will help me too. I put on a warm pair of socks and vacuum the white rug in my room. Then I get to work on the window and other surfaces with the window cleaner. I can't help but think about how my Training Session will go. I want to impress the Gamemakers but throwing a few knives at a target won't give me a great score. The only ones who can easily get double digits are the Careers and the other people who really put on a show for the Gamemakers. The ones who amaze them and show them something they've never seen before can get a score of eleven and sometimes even twelve. I'll have to show them something spectacular to get the score I want.
At 1:45 on the dot we head down to the Training Center. They've set up a few benches in a room next to the Center and let us sit and talk for a while. Nobody really talks, though. There's such intensity in the air that it's hard to calmly talk to other people, so all of the other tributes keep their mouths shut and wait for their turn. Precisely at 2:00, they call the male tribute from One into the Training Center. Billee tells me the kid's name is Munstead. Munstead is a tall, buff guy with a striking jawline and perfectly white teeth. I don't know why, but his short hair has these rich, black roots with blinding white tips. I guess it's a fashion statement in the wealthy districts, and it actually does suit him. He winks at Portia before leaving. She giggles and laughs flirtatiously, so I can't help but role my eyes. The cheesiness of everything they do bothers me. They know the odds are in their favor, so they know they can laugh and fool around all they want without taking a bit of this seriously. Munstead disappears through the doorway of the waiting room and everyone waits in silence. At 3:49, it's Billee's turn to go in. Before he leaves, I wish him good luck, and he does the same, knowing he won't see me until I'm done with my Training Session. After only five minutes, they call me in. Why was Billee's so short? Did they not like him or something? I hope not.
When I walk into the Training Center, I see one of the targets is split in half at the stomach. I also see a medium sized sword next to the half-target. Clearly it's the work of Billee, since he's the only one who really practiced with the medium swords. The Gamemakers seem impressed, especially since the targets are thick and hard to cut through. It's easy to see Billee cut right through the target without a problem. Of course he had to set the bar high for me.
"Atala Copperwood. District Five." I say, introducing myself. The Gamemakers already begin scribbling in their notepads, which makes me nervous.
I walk right up to the throwing-knife station and all eyes are on me. There are three targets lined up and three knives sitting on the rack. I pick up the smallest one and twirl it around in the palm of my right hand. Judging the distance between myself and the leftmost target, I decide to hold the blade in my palm and I quickly whirl it at the target's heart. It's near perfect, probably off slightly from my nerves and anxiety. I look up at the Gamemakers and they seem unimpressed. They've seen a lot of good today, and my mediocre throw is not going to cut it. I hold the medium knife in my hand and face the rightmost target. This time my palms are sweating and I can feel the knife sliding around in my grip, its jagged teeth slightly scraping my skin. I swallow hard and throw the knife again, aiming toward the groin. I hit it on mark, and looking up again at the Gamemakers I can tell I surprised some of them, but not all of them. I pick up the last and largest knife. It's a little heavy, so I take a step back and hold the handle firmly. I look around at the middle target to try and decide which part of the target would be the best to hit, but then I decide that's not what they want. They want to see my ability to defend myself in any situation. So, I turn around and face the Gamemakers. I wing the knife over my shoulder before I can second-guess my decision to throw it backwards, and I pray to hear the knife hit the target. My heart's pounding too hard in my ears, so I miss the sound. I turn around slowly and find that my knife did in fact hit the target. It planted itself on the thigh of the target, which still shocked the Gamemakers. They clap a little for me, and I leave the Training Center satisfied.
The next day falls the same way: we get up and wait until 8:00 when they show the scores to everyone throughout Panem. I follow the same routine as the day before. I wake up, eat breakfast, and sit in my room, cleaning and thinking the whole day. Billee comes in at one point to tell me lunch was ready, so we get some sandwiches and eat in my clean room, talking about what we did in the Training Center.
"I saw you sliced a target in half." I say to him.
"Yeah, you saw that? Did they like it?"
"Of course they did, nobody can just slice a target in half!" He looks at me like he didn't know that already.
"Well what did you do?"
"I threw a few knives. Got one in the heart, the crotch, and then I threw one behind my shoulder and got it on the target's leg."
"See, you did just as well as I did!" he says, patting me on the back. But for some reason I can't help but think he's wrong. I did what so many others could accomplish with a few days of practice. He was able to slice a target in half, which sounds easy but it's definitely not. Those targets are made out of some flexible but dense material. There's no easy way to cut them in half. And the pat on the back bothers me, so I decide to let out what I'm thinking.
"You realize a few knives aren't going to work on them, right?" I ask. I want to see his opinion. I want to see him lie and say I was good and not to worry.
"They might, you don't know that." He tells me. I can already feel the lies coming. "And if they don't like it, you're still a threat to the other tributes." Huh, so he didn't lie this time. I'd noticed that a lot of the time he'd lie to me just to make me feel better. But I didn't like those pity words; they meant nothing to me. I liked the truth and nothing but the truth.
"I guess you're right." I reply, smiling and ripping another piece of bread off my sandwich.
"I'm always right." he says in this overdramatic voice. I laugh at his sarcasm.
We wait another few hours and then eat dinner with each other until 7:30, when Miranda and Charlie and Rootina and Garry all show up to watch the scores. We sit in the sitting room for half an hour, tensely waiting, wanting to get the scoring over with. We stare blankly at the television until the scoring begins. First they show a photo of the tribute, and then their score flashes below it. All of the Careers make it in the nine-to-eleven range. My body begins to tense up when the show a picture of Billee. He pulls a nine. It's difficult, even in our district, to get a relatively high score, so we all applaud him until my face shows up on the screen. Then, a score of ten flashes below my face.
Miranda stands up immediately, squeaks, and hugs me tightly, ranting about how proud she is of the both of us, even though she is only talking to me. Garry shakes my hand afterwards and offers a hint of a smile, which I appreciate even though I know he doesn't really like me. Siarrah even says "congratulations" to me. I'm glad that my score was high, especially since I tried so hard and didn't expect the score I got. I look at Billee and mouth "Good job!" at him, but he doesn't respond. He's jealous, just like all other guys get. Billee is the competitive type, but I know he'll get over it by tomorrow. With the thought of tomorrow, I realize that tomorrow is our last day before the Games. My stomach flips and my heart skips a beat when I come to the realization that my life will more than likely end in the upcoming days. My eyes tear a little but I recuperate when Charlie calls us to the table for dessert. I scoff down a thin slice of chocolate cake and go back to my room. I lie down on my bed and smell the air. My room is still clean, but I know I will be cleaning it again tomorrow. I have a feeling of unease before I go to sleep, and I dream about a knife that follows me and finally stabs me in the groin.