Haymitch made a noise deep in his throat. I stared at him expectantly. This was good right? It had to mean sponsors. A real shot at survival. I was expecting him to approve, but something about his face made me uncomfortable.
"What?" Peeta asked.
Our mentor ignored us both, opting instead for taking the hologram out of Effie's hands. The images flickered off. "Nothing. Don't fuck this up. Now, go. The adults need to talk."
I was taken aback, but I listened. As I was turning towards the hallway I glanced back. Haymitch and Effie appeared to be deeply engaged in a hushed conversation with the hologram flickering between them.
This had to be good.
"My name is Atala," A tall and athletic woman with a dusky complexion addressed the lot of us in a booming voice. "I am the head trainer here. When you enter the training space, you will see several stations. Trainers will remain at their assigned stations. You will be free to travel within the space from one area to the next. As you will see, some areas focus heavily on survival skills and others on combat. Invest your time wisely."
The room was very cold. Was it meant to be like that? It probably was. Don't stare, Katniss. I reminded myself, it'll make you look weak.
"Tributes are forbidden from engaging in any and all combative exercise with each other. There are assistants on hand if you require a training partner. Failure to comply with these rules will result in immediate detention by law enforcement. Do I make myself clear?"
I glanced around as the others murmured their assent. My worries had been correct. There was a considerable physical difference between most of the tributes and me. Over half of them were taller than me. Worse yet, the Careers appeared to be in a league of their own. They'd been trained for this their entire lives. They were in peak physical condition. Peeta and I, two people who were, thankfully, not starving, looked minuscule in comparison.
"Dismissed," Atala commanded.
Like a tentative trickle of molasses, we stepped into the training room. The careers seemed to have no qualms about anything. They headed straight towards hand-to-hand combat.
I felt something tug at my braid. Peeta. "Anyone home?" our eyes met. "Hey. Where d'ya want to start?"
"We could give knot tying a try," I suggested, naming the first option I saw.
"Right you are," Peeta's hand gently urged me forward, "Let's go."
"And then you tug, like so." The instructor, who'd been openly surprised when we approached her, demonstrated. She looked at my knot. "That's perfect."
Peeta snickered at my smug expression. He'd been hopeless so far.
"At least one of us has a useful skill," he joked eyes on the knot that wasn't happening.
"Give it another shot," I encouraged, watching him unravel the knot and try again. Peeta's eyes stayed on his task, though they briefly flickered up to look over my shoulder.
"Check it out, we've got a shadow," he motioned with his chin but kept tugging the knot tight. I looked over my shoulder. "By the monkey bars." He added.
The small bird-like girl from District Eleven stepped out of view. She must have noticed our attention.
"She's tiny," I said.
Peeta's eyes flickered across my face. "Yeah." He put the rope down. "Let's move on?"
I cracked my knuckles. "Okay."
He stood up, offering me his hand and pulling to my feet. I went to let go but he held on. "Edible plants?"
I nodded, "Yeah." But really, I was thinking about Prim, in here, without me.
Later, Peeta and I were standing at knife throwing. Peeta was surprisingly decent at it. His aim wasn't reliable, but everything he threw stuck.
Peeta was turned towards me, showing me how he was balancing the handle in his wider hand when I felt something shove me into him.
"Watch out, Twelve." One of the Career girls sneered as she walked past. "Don't want to ruin your pretty face, do you?"
I hadn't forgotten Haymitch's orders, but I scoffed at her anyways.
"What the hells her problem," I complained in a low voice. But Peeta wasn't looking at me. His eyes remained on the other girl.
"I'm pretty sure all of the Careers hate us," he was frowning. I followed his gaze to where the Careers had made a game out of spear throwing, openly keeping a tally of how many bullseye they got.
"It's mutual." I turned back to the targets and threw my knife. It didn't stick. "Ugh, come on."
"Yeah," Peeta still sounded distracted. He threw his knife. It didn't hit the bullseye but sank to the hilt. How was he doing that? "You gotta put more force into the throw."
"I'm trying," I grumbled, picking up another knife from a nearby table.
"Two's obsessed with us," Peeta mumbled behind me. I turned my gaze towards him. "I'm surprised we're not aflame."
"You noticed?" I threw the knife but did no better.
"Of course," this time he didn't step up to take his turn, so I looked at him. He seemed thoughtful, not visibly worried, but I knew better.
"Don't think about it," I insisted, tugging him away from the knives section. "Leave it alone."
"We'll have no shot at survival if with the Careers on our backs." He insisted.
"We'll have no shot at survival if we make things worse right now," I countered. "Staring just makes it obvious we're scared. Stop."
Peeta's frown deepened, but he looked away. I took his hand and tugged him towards another station. He was so deep in thought that he felt heavier than usual, harder to drag around.
"I bet you can't beat me at climbing," I quipped. "What do you want? 'cause I'll bet anything I've got on it."
Peeta raised his eyebrows at me, "Thanks, but I don't gamble on lost causes."
"Okay, well, we're practicing climbing anyway." I yanked him with me to the instructor. "You're going first, by the way."
"I'm probably too heavy for this," he said at he rubbed his hands together. The instructor said something to him, and he nodded before jumping up onto the net.
"Put your foot here." I pointed out a spot slightly above him and nodded. "Good. Don't rely on your arms. Use your legs."
"Uh huh, thanks, teacher Katniss," he called back, hauling himself up incorrectly. "But I think I'll figure it out."
"Sure you will," I said with a half-hearted smile. My eyes were wandering about the room. The girl from earlier was at the station we'd just abandoned.
I watched her as she threw knife after knife. Her aim was impeccable. Her movements promised deadly speed. I crossed my arms, moved around, and tried to focus on Peeta again, but my attention remained on the stabbed targets. One of those could be us in a few days. She flicked her wrist and threw the final knife, which sunk into the bullseye effortlessly. I was about to turn away, expecting her to pull the knives out and put them away or walk away carelessly when she turned and met my gaze with a smirk.
Great.