Chapter 4
The next morning, I awaken to a mumbling voice coaxing me to get out of bed. I open my eyes with a pang of loneliness and see the ocean I had projected on the wall the night before, reminding me of home. Mags is standing over me, Claudia by her side.
"Did I sleep too late?" I ask groggily, rubbing my eyes.
"Adrian has already been at the Training Center for two hours, but most tributes are only just arriving." Claudia offers.
I quickly jolt up. Of course, Adrian wants to get there early.
"You needed sleep," Mags says, smiling at me. Everyone left me alone in my room last night. They didn't even ask for my presence at dinner. I'm glad. I certainly don't want to see Angel—ever again. She is probably still upset at me, even after her outburst at me after the parade. I didn't even try to hold back the tears. After she continued berating me all the way up the elevator and onto our floor, I ran into my room, shut the door, and sobbed the entire night.
"First though, we need to find an outfit for you," Claudia says. So that's why Claudia was here. But Angel isn't. Claudia shows me to the closet and begins her suggestions.
"Is Angel still mad at me?" I can't help but blurt the nagging thought.
She sucks in a breath but doesn't deny me an answer.
"She's not happy. She sent me a list of instructions on what to dress you in, but Finnick insisted that Angel let me do it because she would've needed a break from her stylist duties." Claudia answers robotically and without emotion, but I catch the slight sarcasm. Did Finnick do it because I need a break?
Mags points to herself. "Told them to leave you alone yesterday." She says with her sweet smile.
"Thank you." For a moment I think she means it genuinely, but then I remember where I am and decide I can't trust anyone, even seemingly kind Mags. As much as it hurts, I put a mental note in my mind to be wary of her, just like everyone else.
As soon as we decide on a practical green jumpsuit for me to wear, I quickly eat breakfast and am on my way to the Training Floor. The emotions of the previous day still wear on me, but I look to the day with hope.
A woman pins a District 4 paper on my outfit. I scan the Training room and find Adrian alone in the back, throwing knives at a target. I stay clear of that area. Instead, I go over to a survival skills section and learn how to make a fire out of random things that I might find around me, depending on what the biome is, and find useful materials in the arena. I gain some confidence after realizing I have a lot of potential with knots and creating snares for animals. The little girl from District 10 is seated next to me, struggling to keep her ropes from collapsing.
"Do you need help?" I ask tentatively, noticing the trainer with another tribute. The little girl looks at me in awe and then nods. "You have to loop the stronger rope first so you have enough strength to support the band." I fix her trap with ease and hand it back.
"You know you should probably focus on learning fighting skills instead of wasting time doing what you already know or helping the competition," states a haughty voice behind me.
"Really? Then what would you recommend?" I ask, not sure if it is a sarcastic question or not. I catch the slight crease of Adrian's eyebrows on his stern expression. He crosses his arms.
"Some people train with what they think they might excel at. However, the most logical strategy would be to train with what would be most practical." He says it like he has been longing for someone to ask him that question.
"And what is that?"
"Knives. The most common and useful weapon. They are the easiest to master without any previous knowledge and have many uses. In every game, there is some variation of them, and there is usually a plentiful amount. They are not difficult to get your hands on." Reluctantly, I put down the trap I was making and let him guide me to an area where tributes are making weapons.
"There are also ways to create them in an arena, whether out of sharpened stones or carved wood. You can defend yourself if you know how to use them. They are not as long as a sword so you can throw them, but they are also not only limited to long range like a bow."
I am not sure how to respond. On one account, what Adrian is saying makes sense and is more than likely correct, but on the other, I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he helped me. However, I don't have to say anything because the call for lunch sounds through the speakers.
I awkwardly step away from him and get in line for the large lunch buffet. In the cafeteria, the Career Tributes have a table, and then most of the other tributes sit with their district partner. Some sit alone. Most people aren't here to make friends. I sit down at a table by myself, eyeing Adrian. He sits at a table in the dark, in a far corner by himself.
"Can I sit here?" Comes a timid voice barely above a whisper. I look up to see the District 10 girl's shy smile.
"Sure" I grin. We both start eating in strained silence until it becomes too much to bear.
"So, what's your name?" I ask quietly. Somehow, I almost forgot even the most basic standard question of communication. Even though the girl seems sweet, it's hard not to view everyone in a strange place as a stranger. Maybe if I can get to know her then my time at the Capitol might not be so challenging. I might be able to help someone else.
"My name is Kate, at least that's what everyone here calls me." I hear her odd accent.
"What do they call you back home?"
"Kitty," She softly laughs. "Because I'm like a kitten. My family calls me that. My Dad was the first one who used it because he said that I was small and cute but that I was feisty and wasn't afraid to scratch people." I watch as her smile slowly fades and the realization of her desperate fate creeps in. I suck in a breath.
"Well, your family sounds really nice. I have a sister about your age."
"Really? I have an older sister. She's younger than you, but she has blue eyes just like yours." A look of regret overtakes her features as she presumably remembers some lost memory. "The last time I saw her was from the stage during the reaping. She was crying."
"Don't they let you talk to your family in the Town Hall before leaving on the train?"
"No, not in District 10. I never got to say goodbye." Tears form on the girl's brown eyes.
"I'm sorry, that must be pretty sad." My own eyes collect glassy teardrops.
"What would you do if your sister was taken from you? How could you just continue as normal?" She looks at me, not accusatory, but a sudden ferociousness to know the truth lights in her glossy eyes.
"I couldn't. I would want to give up myself."
She looks appalled by my answer. "Would you volunteer?" She asks as if she is speaking an unspeakable secret.
"I don't know," I mumble.
"Volunteering and not volunteering doesn't matter, it causes separation from part of your family either way. That's for sure as soon as they pull any of your family's names from the bowl. You can't do anything but lose."
I look at her in amazement. I can't help but ponder such wise words of a thirteen-year-old girl for the rest of the day. For the next few days, I sat with her during lunch as we exchanged stories of our Districts.
On the third day of training, they begin to call the tributes for their assessments by the Gamemakers. I sit in a hallway with Adrian to my left and the freckle-faced boy from District 5 to my right. The time dwindles by. 1…2…3… District 4.
"Adrian Hemmings, please come with me." To my surprise, Adrian looks back at me when he reaches the doorway. No, probably not me, just the other tributes. His competition. I nod at Adrian anyway. Right now, we're bonded by the same fear.
My vision becomes unfocused as I concentrate on the steadiness of my heartbeat. I look down at my shaking hands. I will them to stop so no one can sense my nervousness.
"Annie Cresta, please follow me." I jump at the name even though I've been expecting it for fifteen minutes. Adrian nods sternly at me. He probably passed with flying colors. I study his expression but can't tell how confident he is about how he did. But I do catch something else. A slight quiver is on his lips, almost like he is about to say something, but the moment fades, and I continue past him into the room anyway.
The room is massive. I am only a small insect compared to the large expanse of space around me and the group of gamemakers towering over me in their lounge.
"Annie Cresta. District 4," I say softly. They don't seem to hear me. "Annie Cresta, District 4," I say louder.
"You may begin." The head game maker, Lysander Cayhen, nods at me.
With the sound of my own thundering footsteps echoing off the wide ceiling, I walk over to a large stand of various knives. Someone else might study the strength and weight of the different kinds, but all I see are the deadliness of their blades. I mindlessly take the top one on the rack and aim at the target in front of me. Just this once, I have to get it right. I throw the knife with all my might and it lands on the outermost ring. At least I hit the target at all. I hear the snickers of the gamemakers behind me, crushing the bright side of my thoughts.
I am not what most people call a dedicated person. I can't stand failing, so I quit to make sure that I never know what I could've done. These past few days have been a nightmare I not only can't escape from if I tried, but can't quit either. Everything has been engineered to make sure I stay in this misery. Something clicks inside me. If I can't quit or do anything right, then I will make sure that I do the opposite of what I am supposed to and fail so impressively that no one can even laugh. If I can't win, then I'll lose the hardest.
Knife in my hand, I march over to the gamemakers and sit crisscrossed in front of them. I close my eyes and begin singing.
"Do you hear the siren call? She is waiting on you
She wants your dreams and hope, it's all you can do
Just stay above the water before she comes so near
Mind your heart and remember what you hold so dear
.
Do you hear my call? I'm calling on you
I need your life, your truth, your beautiful virtue
Forget about the past and leave your life, come close to me
Follow my call, come to the water then you'll see
.
I hear the siren call, it's all I can do
To remember the life I loved, I held so true
I could just forget, go to her I'd ease the pain
Or I could stay one more day, than let it fade."
I open my eyes to see the group of gamemakers staring at me like a group of seagulls. I feel a prick and notice I squeezed the sharp end of the knife. I press my hand to the wound and stand, remembering to do a final bow, which ends up being more of a nod.
"Wait! Where did you find that song?" Cayhen asks in amazement, his voice amplified in the echoey room.
"I wrote it."
"It's certainly unique." I try to discern his facial expression, hoping to see a sign of either disgust, anger, or pleasure, but can't quite figure it out. He reminds me of Adrian. Emotionless in his thoughts. "What does it mean?"
"A siren is a mythical creature that would lure sailors into deep waters with their song. The people the girl loves are trying to warn her about the siren and trying to get her to remember the good moments. But the siren tries to convince her to give her those moments, forget everything and come to the water. But the girl tries to remember her life. She wonders if going with the siren would ease her pain or if it is worth it to stay . . ." I pause, wondering if I should share the rest. The secrets of my personality are all I have left. The gamemakers silently wait for me to finish. I can't believe I am about to do this.
"The siren is death. It's trying to convince her to kill herself."
"And does she?" Someone asks.
"I don't know, I never finished it."
"Your time is up Annie Cresta. You can go." Cayhen's eyes glare at me in concentration as I march out of the room.
"I'm so stupid! I didn't even try!" I cry in frustration rather than sadness. Mags hands me another tissue as she caresses my bandaged hand. It wasn't just about a stupid number, but it was also about sponsors. That's what I couldn't seem to remember. I not only gave up on any chance I had at sponsors, but I looked like a fool doing it! That's why they were questioning me. They think I'm ridiculous. I want to scream how much I hate myself at the top of my lungs, but I can't look any more stupid than I already do. I sit up and jerk myself out of Mags' grasp. What am I doing? Sitting and pouting doesn't give any better image. But it feels so good to be mad at something.
"Thank you, Mags, I'm sorry for the trouble," I sniff. She shakes her head as if I've caused no trouble in the past hour I've been crying.
"Don't worry Annie. People don't typically feel amazing giving a performance that determines their fate," Finnick says with his usual dashing smile.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!" I rage, but because my voice is sore from the crying, I must seem pretty comical.
"Sorry Annie, I just thought it might—"
"Would you just shut up Finnick!" I explode at him, regretting nothing because he deserves it. I slam my head ten feet into the table.
"It's time to watch the tribute's results!" Sterling calls from the living room.
I watch the screen as it displays every tribute's score. The career tributes from Districts 1 and 2 score high as usual. Adrian got a nine. I keep telling myself I got a one so I won't be surprised. A song, a stupid song; I tried to make a statement when I could've tried anything else.
When my picture flashes on the screen, I can only wait as my hands revert back to their shaky state. The number flashes below my picture. Nine. I stare in shock. Nine is amazing for any tribute, even the careers. It's the same as Adrian's score. We are equals.
The room is awestruck in silence until Finnick finally speaks. "Congratulations Annie," which starts a whole chorus of congratulations. I look at Adrian's face and notice his clenched jaw.
"Good job," he says, not bothering to look at me.
Most of the scores are around six, but to everyone's surprise, the solid girl from District 9, whose name is Careena Law, gets a ten, which is better or equal to the career tributes. My heart aches when the screen flashes a score of two for Kitty. With a score that low, she will probably be targeted. I shudder when I imagine her screams as she runs away from the careers. But honestly, what else did I expect?
"Alright everyone, interviews are coming up in two days. Tomorrow we will have you both train with me and your mentor to prepare for the interview and games. So rest well, big day ahead tomorrow," Sterling ushers us out of the room. I stop Finnick before he leaves for his room.
"Finnick, I am really sorry about my outburst. It wasn't fair." I don't know if I mean it or not. All I can think of is how tired and awkward I feel.
"It's okay, I get it." He flashes a bright grin. "It wasn't against me." He stares at me a moment before walking away. "And I really do want to congratulate you on your score."
"Thank you. Maybe the rest might come easier."
Finnick sighs like Mama trying to find the best way to tell me some bad news. I feel a sudden drop in peace and stability in my life.
"What is it?" I ask in concern, instantly regretting letting him know I care that much.
"Annie, you may have done well on the test, but the interviews are what give the tributes a chance at having sponsors. These next few days are what really matters."
I found the name Lysander Cayhen on hunger games wiki so I just went with it *shrug*. Also in case you can't tell, I'm not really a songwriter, but uh, you know, I tried *aggressive shrug*. Anyway hope you enjoyed, and the next chapter should be out soon!