8

The moment Prim stepped into the training room, she almost spun on her heel and walked out again. Peeta took her by the arm. "No you don't. Come on, if I have to, you have to."

He seemed stronger when he had to lead her and be courageous for her. Maybe he needed her in there with him so he wouldn't get nervous.

"Okay." Prim scanned the other tributes who dispersed to the different stations. They were huge. All of them. And confident. Where's that girl who's my age? What was her name? Rue?

Rue was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she left the arena like Prim had wanted to. Prim's stomach sank like the miner's elevator. She'd so desperately wanted to find a friend. Sure, Peeta could be called "friend," but she didn't know him and he was old. More like "big brother" material.

Then again, maybe this was for the best. If Prim became friends with Rue, they'd have to watch each other die. Or maybe Rue would have to kill Prim. Or…something.

She spent most of the day at the edible plants station, learning about the ones she hadn't heard of. Then she went to the healing station and learned about different ways to splint, bind, and treat wounds using nature. Much of this she already knew, but she caught a few new tricks she'd never thought of before. Mom would love to know about these.

That was her favorite station. She'd return to it tomorrow.

Peeta hunkered down at the camouflage station. Prim wanted to join him, but didn't want him to feel like he had to focus on her.

The weapons sat on the other side of the room, beckoning. Taunting her. No. I won't be a killer.

But part of her, a tiny little itchy part in the palm of her hand, wanted to pick up a dagger…just to see how it felt.

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By training day number two, Prim had learned everything she could from the instructors at the healing station and edible plants station. In fact, she taught them a few things. She gave them smiles, figuring none of the other tributes did that. These poor instructors had to train kids they knew would be dying in a couple days.

Prim still hadn't connected with Rue. She thought she glimpsed her at one point, toying with a dagger, but when Prim looked again, she wasn't there.

Prim went from station to station, learning about building shelters and camouflage and fishhooks. For some reason, the idea of catching and killing a fish didn't bother her as much as the idea of catching and killing a deer, or a rabbit, or something fluffy and cuddle-able. Besides, fish could be eaten raw. Perhaps she should learn about snares and fishing hooks…just in case.

As she settled at the station, a realization struck her like a lightning bolt. I'm thinking like a survivor.

It terrified her. Was she really hoping to survive?

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"Look, sweetheart, you've got to pick up a weapon today." Haymitch picked at his teeth as they rode the elevator down to the Training Area.

It was the last day and then they'd be performing in front of the Game Makers, dressing for an interview, and then off to the Arena. What did it matter? What could she learn in one day?

Prim started to shake her head, but Haymitch cut her off. "You promised to do whatever I tell you. Now get in there and learn to throw a dagger, shoot a bow and arrow, something."

Prim just stared at the elevator doors, silent.

Haymitch threw his hands in the air. "Why do I even try? It's your funeral. Don't expect me to attend unless I get to put I told you so on the tombstone."

The doors opened and they walked into the training arena once more. For the first time, Prim spotted Rue. She hovered by the weapons, inspecting each one with a brush of her small dark fingers. Without a word to Haymitch or Peeta, Prim dashed across the room, keeping her eyes locked on the other girl so she wouldn't lose her.

Then, realizing she was attracting stares from the other tributes, particularly a burly one named Cato, she veered a little to her right so she ended up at the wall of daggers. She plucked one off the wall and tested the sharpness of the blade with her fingernail, as if this had been her intent the whole time.

A quick glance showed her Haymitch, still in the elevator, staring at her with a slack jaw. Peeta nudged Haymitch with his elbow, grinned, and then jogged toward the climbing station.

Once everyone was sufficiently distracted, Prim slid closer to Rue. Rue looked up and gave a brilliant smile. "Hi."

What a surprise! She wasn't afraid. "Hello." Prim put the dagger back up on the wall. "I'm Prim."

"I'm Rue." Rue's fingers stopped on a slingshot and she pulled it off the wall.

Prim wanted to say I know, but that might be off-putting. "We both have the names of flowers, did you know that?" An obvious sign they were destined to be friends.

"Yeah." Rue's timid eyes stayed on the slingshot.

Prim wanted to put her at ease. She wanted to tell her that she wouldn't kill her, but the very idea of talking about killing seemed too harsh, especially when they'd just met.

"I liked your outfit at the opening ceremonies." Rue looked up, meeting Prim's eyes. She let out a gushed giggle. "I thought you were on fire!"

"I did, too, for a moment." Prim noticed Haymitch watching her with narrowed eyes. By now, he'd figured out she didn't run to the weapons because she wanted to hold a dagger. So she copied Rue and pulled a slingshot off the wall. It was light and comfortable in her hand. Even though she'd never used one before, she felt safer.

"Want to go practice?" Rue grabbed a bucket of stones.

Prim shrugged. "Alright." She picked up one end of the bucket to lighten it for Rue and they headed to target practice. On their left, Clove—the girl from District two—threw daggers one after the other and hit the bull's-eye every time. Another guy—Marvel, Prim thought his name was—showed the same amount of accuracy with a spear.

An instructor showed both Prim and Rue how to hold the slingshot and they spent the rest of the afternoon practicing. When they ran out of rocks, the instructor brought them a bucket of little colored balls that exploded with a splash of paint when they hit the target. This helped the girls improve their direct aim.

Once, when one of her balls didn't explode on impact, Prim ran forward to retrieve it. A sharp pop! stung her leg and she startled, glancing back at Rue. Rue was doubled over in giggles, her slingshot in one hand. A yellow splash of paint marked Prim's leg.

Prim loaded her slingshot with the pink ball she'd retrieved and let it fly. It hit Rue on the forehead, sending a spray of pink paint into her curly black hair. They laughed harder, loud enough that now people noticed.

The instructor from that station ran over, pale. "No attacking other tributes!"

Rue covered her mouth with her arm and Prim managed to take a deep breath. She jogged back to the aiming line and avoided Rue's eye for risk of losing control. Still, with every shot, they each let out a little giggle.

And that's when Prim knew…Rue would never kill her.

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To be continued...

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(New posts every week, sometimes sooner.).

~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~

"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"