2 years later, the second day of training begins.
~ Meghan
The Alliances.
...
Training Day II - Pt. I
...
"I don't care if they respect me so long as they fear me."
- Caligula, 12 AD - 41 AD, Roman Empire
Lewis Fowler - 13 y.o. - D11
...
- Training Center Floor 11 -
Lewis thought going to training the second morning would be easier than the first.
He realized quickly that was completely wrong. Somehow the second day seemed even worse.
His dreams were a haze of memories - his mother in the rocking chair on their porch, his father crying as she was buried, Pierce in his white Peacekeeper uniform, the train to the Capitol - until he woke up in the grayness before dawn. He couldn't go back to sleep.
They woke up early in District 11. Each day, Lewis' father would go off before the sunrise to the orchards, but they would have breakfast together before that. Coleman had tried to get Lewis to go back to sleep before, get rest, but had learned it was no use. Lewis liked getting up with his father. He liked helping him cooking and clean the dishes. He knew his father liked it too. Sometimes Pierce would join them, and it was peaceful.
The Capitol, though, was still sleeping. Aside from a lone street sweeper, most of the buildings still had their interior lights off. They slept in here. It was quiet, outside his window so high up, but it didn't feel peaceful. Back home, there was never a moment of quiet. Someone was always awake in the morning, there were always voices or singing, something happening - it felt human. But the bright lights of the Capitol skyscrapers, the cement everywhere, the potted trees neatly lining rows - none of it felt natural.
Lewis closed the curtains most of the way and tried not to look out the window.
He got a shower, though he didn't need it since he'd showered the night before. But he needed something to keep himself busy. Otherwise his thoughts just drifted towards home. He couldn't bear that. Not right now, not when he was alone here in his room that was so foreign to him, where his mother's patchwork quilt was nowhere to be seen.
He took his time changing into shorts and a simple maroon tank top for training that day. He was even slower tying his laces. But time kept moving.
As the sun climbed up over the city, and the Capitol woke up, training came closer. Lewis' stomach got tighter and tighter.
Yesterday, he hadn't exactly known what to expect. He'd heard about the training his whole life, of course, but that was so abstract. Now it was real. And that uncertainty had meant he was focused on breakfast yesterday, on hearing Kera and Husk tell him instructions for the day.
He knew today, though, that he would be in the gymnasium and the Gamemakers would be watching in their purple robes from the stands. They would be taking notes about who-knew-what, scribbling things down about him that he wasn't allowed to look at. And the other tributes would be there swinging swords or looking lost, and he was honestly worried that he looked like that too - that terror. He didn't want to. He was determined not to.
But here in his room, he couldn't help the way he shook. His stomach twisted as 8 o'clock breakfast came closer.
At least Juniper would be there. They'd spent yesterday together, going around the different stations as a pair. They'd both been great the edible plants station, of course. Juniper couldn't see the plants as well, but she could feel the leaves and berries. Lewis had loved the ropes course best of all, and had climbed along it as fast as he could without falling.
They'd even had lunch together, and he'd been glad to not be alone like so many of the other tributes. Were they all this worried right now too? Juniper had calmed him, though, by telling him stories about her elderly neighbor. And he hadn't even felt worried then when the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 all sat together. They had been so loud, trying to intimidate them all, laughing, laughing, laughing.
But it didn't work on Lewis. He'd already known people like that.
It was one of those autumn days where the sun hadn't burned off yet.
The heat clung around, drying out the soil, swirling dead leaves in a hot breeze, leaving everyone moving slow.
Lewis sat on the school steps, wiping sweat off his forehead. The midday sun sent a shimmer rising over the concrete schoolyard during recess.
In front of him, his two closest friends were playing a game of marbles. Ruby Pollock was winning, like usual, and Jermaine Simmons was whining about it, like usual. Ruby was a genius who always had the best maneuvers in games.
Lewis had become friends with Ruby in geometry class when she'd always lent him her perfectly-taken notes. Jermaine, one of the track stars in their grade, had been his friend a bit longer, as his dad worked under Lewis' father in the apple orchard. They were easy friendships.
"Did you see that?" Jermaine said. "She totally cheated!"
"Did not!" Ruby gasped.
"She won fair in square," Lewis said with a laugh.
Ruby grinned. "Thank you. Don't I always?"
"I'll win one of these days," Jermaine said, resetting the marbles. "Lewis, want a game?"
Just as Lewis was about to answer, a round of laughter nearby drew their attention.
Over by the fence, near a copse of scraggly bushes, a group of kids were gathered in a cluster. Raymond Rendall's laugh was unmistakable.
An orange thing fluttered near the ground. Lewis had just realized it was a small butterfly when Raymond's foot came down on it, stomping the poor thing into the pavement. As another butterfly flew past along the bush, he clapped his hands around it. The other kids laughed along with him.
"Lewis, don't-" Jermaine started.
But Lewis was already up and hurrying.
"It's just a bug-" Ruby called in a panic, but even she didn't sound convinced.
"Stop that!" Lewis bellowed at the cluster of kids.
They turned, startled, but Raymond just smirked down at him.
"Are you gonna make me, Fowler? I'd like to see you try with those stupid gloves," Raymond said. He stomped at another butterfly.
Lewis shoved him. The other kids gasped. He heard Ruby's voice behind him, worried, but there was a buzzing in his ears and Lewis couldn't tell what she was even saying. It didn't matter. He could barely think he was so angry.
Raymond turned, eyes glazing.
Lewis couldn't even move before Raymond's fist hit him in the face.
That day, when he'd gone home with a black eye and bruised nose, he was glad his father was coming home late.
"We can stay with you," Ruby told him softly at his porch. Her big eyes were even wider with concern. "We can do homework together."
"I can skip practice," Jermaine added. "I'd rather be with you both anyway."
Lewis shook his head. "I'll be okay." He mustered up a smile, but it wasn't easy like usual. He knew they could see the way it wavered. "You go ahead home. I'll see you tomorrow."
The house was quiet inside. The setting sun painted everything gold from the soft couch to the table with a simple vase of wildflowers. His mother had loved little pieces of beauty like that. Lewis still put flowers in every week - it's what she would've done. What would she say now, seeing him beat up like that?
He could almost feel her arms around him, warm, and the way she smelled like honey. She'd have spoken to him in her sweet voice. Told him that the world needed more joy and kindness, less violence and anger. That caring for something is more powerful than tearing it down.
But he wanted to tear down Raymond. He wanted to punch him, make him cry. It wasn't fair.
His dad wouldn't respond like his mom. His father would be horrified, would probably try to go break Raymond's arm. And Pierce would help him.
Raymond had wanted to beat him up after the last reaping. Lewis could remember it vividly, the anger it still made him feel raw. He'd been jealous of Lewis' clothes.
Lewis' mother had bought him the clothes once for him to use once he was of reaping age. The button-down blue shirt and tan slacks made him feel grown-up. The dark brown leather loafers were the most expensive part of it, the kind he could sell once he outgrew them, a treasure.
Raymond was a year older, and as he'd walked towards the section for thirteen-year-old's, he'd looked at Lewis' shoes. Lewis knew that he wanted them - that he would probably try to rip them off his feet if he could. But then his father and Pierce were there, to squeeze Lewis' shoulder, and he knew he was safe.
He was safe in the house too. But it didn't stop him from crying once he got up to his bed.
Whether it was out of anger at Raymond, or mourning the butterflies, he didn't know.
A knock at the door.
The door of the Capitol apartment. Not his house.
"Lewis? Are you ready? You should get some breakfast, you have a long day."
"Y-yes!" Lewis called. "Coming!"
He pulled his burlap gloves on over his hands, smoothing his fingers over the soft canvas inside.
Out in the apartment's main area, the buffet was laden with steaming dishes. Juniper was there at the table, talking quietly with Husk and Kera.
Lewis quickly fixed himself a plate of eggs, break slathered in orange marmalade, and some kind of thick red soup that smelled like pepper. He sat down at the table, relieved to see that their escort wasn't present and busy with other things.
"Good morning, Lewis," Kera said sweetly. "We were just talking about you. All good things, of course."
"I got a little bowl for you," Juniper said, and pushed a dish of shining oranges towards him.
Lewis felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed it down with a spoonful of soup that warmed his chest. "Thank you very much."
"We can let you eat, and then we'll discuss you strategy for today," Husk said in his low, calm voice.
"I can discuss it now," Lewis said, sitting up straighter. His stomach roiled, and he felt like appetite start waning. He forced himself to take an orange and let the bittersweet taste calm him down.
Kera nodded. "Yesterday we told you both to try to stay away from anything that might've shown off your best skills. Today we want you to change that. After lunch, make sure to do the stations that would best showcase your abilities. Juniper, that'll mean going to any of the crafting stations. Lewis, for you that'll mean the hand-to-hand combat station and knife-fighting."
"Yesterday was to acclimate yourselves," Husk said. "To understand what to expect. Today is about showing that you're both competitors."
Lewis looked down at the bowl of oranges. He didn't know if he wanted everyone looking at him. He wasn't like Jermaine, he wasn't used to be the star, and he wasn't like Ruby, who saw everything as strategy and equations.
But did he really have a choice?
The memory of Raymond flashed through his mind, so sharp he could've felt the punch all over again.
The kids in the gymnasium who picked up swords and other weapons, trying to scare the rest were just like him. They were just like those kids stomping on the butterflies. They wanted Lewis to feel afraid.
He lifted his chin and ate another orange. Today, he would let them see him. He was afraid, but that wouldn't stop him.
It had never stopped him before.
Amethyst Amberdust - 17 y.o. - D1
...
- Training Center Gymnasium -
Amethyst's reflection stared back at her in the knife.
Was it just her imagination, or did Capitol training give her a glow?
Her reflection's turquoise eyes were even clearer, her buttery curls more defined.
No, there was a definite glow.
The guys burst out laughing.
Amethyst angled her knife until she could see the three of them behind her.
They were the only ones at the knife-fighting station, just like they'd been the only ones at every station they'd gone to that morning.
It was nice. At the first sign of them walking up, any other tribute made themselves scarce quickly. Amethyst knew they still watched from a distance, though. She tried to imagine how the scrawny tributes from 10 or the quiet ones from 7 felt. Inadequate was usually the answer.
She wasn't stupid, though. If there was one thing Amethyst understood even better than weapons or clothes, it was people.
There wasn't a time she could remember where someone wasn't beside her. She'd always been at the center of a cloud of friends. Someone was there saving her seat in class, or listening to her stories at lunch, walking home with her from the weekend market. Amethyst loved people and loved being admired. There was a lot to admire after all, being the mayor's daughter, but it was more than that.
People had always seemed enamored with her, not just her money or mother's position.
They admired her for how she was in training - lethal - and how she carried herself - like a victor.
For just a moment, there in the gymnasium, an ache for home filled her ribcage until it hurt.
She missed her mother's hugs, her father's cooking, her sister's laughter, her grandmother's eyes. She wanted to be back at school, in the courtyard for lunch, sitting at the picnic table with her friends. Opal would brag about the science exam she'd aced, Sable would probably kiss Opal's cheek and tell some joke, and Garnet would make sure they all got to class on time.
Amethyst wrapped up the memories like a present in sparkling paper and set it aside. She could think about them later. She needed to focus on the people here - her allies.
Slowly but surely she was understanding them better. Not just their physical skills, though those too - Garrick's affinity for swords and clubs, Marlen's surprising knowledge of poisonous plants, and Finnegan's talent with melee weapons - but their personalities too. The way they looked at the world.
Garrick was guarded, rarely smiling, and quiet. She hadn't missed the way he would occasionally glance over his shoulder, as if searching the gymnasium, though she hadn't figured out yet what - or who - he wanted to find. It was obvious he resented his district partner, but she couldn't blame him exactly. The girl from 2 seemed sweet, but didn't strike her as a fighter.
Marlen was the center of attention most of the time, twirling weapons with a flourish and making a show of pretending to eat poison at the edible plants station. He was confident, but without any arrogance. He seemed comfortable with himself in a way that a lot of people in District 1 often didn't. Amethyst always felt the competition creeping around, and she loved it, but he seemed effortlessly skilled.
Finnegan was still a mystery. Despite being in classes together for as long as could remember - both Games training and academic - but she still felt like she didn't really know him. He was likeable for sure, but then again he'd always been popular in school. He was expressive, never hiding an emotion, gentle-spoken but confident. But Amethyst didn't mind his enigma much. She knew his life so far, and that was enough for now.
"Any one feel like going to the spear-throwing station?" she piped up, turning around with a bright smile.
"Sure," Marlen said quickly. His light-blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. Cute.
They made their way over to the station where the instructor greeted them with familiar nods. They'd already been here yesterday, but Amethyst couldn't help it. She felt comfortable with ranged weapons, a familiarity and assurance. She wasn't as physically strong as her allies, but what did it matter when she could kill someone from fifteen feet away?
Amethyst ran over her hand over the rack of silver spears. The academy in District 1 had a lot of options, but not this many. Even though it was the second day of training and the novelty had worn off a bit, a thrill still ran through fingertips.
She selected a pilum spear. The iron tang was polished to a shine, and the tip was razor-sharp. It was a work of art, truly, one worthy of her.
Turning towards the human-shaped dummies on the other side of the station's range, she found the spear's midpoint in her open palm. Closing her fingers around the cold metal, she shifted her feet, arm drawn back over her shoulder in a perfect extension. She broke into a short sprint. When she threw the spear, it sailed into the dummy's rib cage.
"Well done," Finnegan said, and Marlen applauded. Garrick, standing there with his large arms folded, nodded appreciatively.
"Thank you, thank you," Amethyst giggled, mock-curtsying.
Marlen stepped over to the rack of spears eagerly. "My turn. Get ready to be shown-up, Amberdust."
"Please try," Amethyst said with a smile. I know you can't. But she smiled wider as he winked at her before turning towards the spears.
Something prickled at her neck - a feeling that she was being watched.
Amethyst turned, and found a girl staring straight at her.
The girl from District 4 was immediately recognizable with dark, curly hair flowing to her mid-back. Amethyst wore hers in a braid for training, but she admired the way Marina seemed carefree with hers, wearing it loose. Even though some of them were tangled, it only made her looked cooler.
Marina didn't turn away when she noticed Amethyst watching her. Instead she just stared a couple moments longer before returning her attention back to the knife-throwing station she was at. She threw a handful of knives at targets and they flashed under the lights. She wasn't as skilled as Amethyst, but still - she was good.
"Hey, Marlen," Amethyst said. "What do you think about inviting your district partner to join us for a station?"
Marlen glanced over at Marina as she gathered more knives. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd go around with us. It's too bad there isn't a pool here, she's a good swimmer."
"She's good with those knives," Finnegan observed.
"Guess so," Marlen said neutrally.
"What's the story with her anyway?" Garrick said. "She wasn't selected to volunteer? That other girl at your Reaping was pissed."
Marlen nodded. "She never really trained until a year ago I'd say. Not what sure what changed, but she'd been at the academy gymnasium a few times recently. She's a bit odd, always trying to organize beach clean-ups and shit. But she's a strong swimmer, one of the best in school I'd say."
Amethyst met Finnegan's eyes. He raised an eyebrow slightly, and she knew they were thinking the same thing: only one tribute from Districts 2 and 4 had been properly trained this year.
"She looks strong," Garrick said.
Amethyst had to agree.
Marina was a few inches shorter than her, but her legs were muscular and her arms and shoulders were toned. She would probably stand a fair chance in a hand-to-hand fight against Amethyst.
And Amethyst couldn't deny that she liked the idea of another girl being in their alliance.
"Someone can go invite her to spend the day with us," she said.
"If she's not up to scratch, we can see about someone else," Garrick added.
Yesterday, they'd seen the girl from 5 impressively wrestling one of the instructors. She was a contender. But Marina had the edge of being from District 4, and Amethyst couldn't ignore that they were a traditional ally district, and Marina had volunteered.
"What if she says no?" Finnegan said.
It was a valid point. Marina hadn't made any move to talk to them yet.
Amethyst shrugged. "I'll go. I'll get her to say yes."
She brushed her hair for any errant strands, and crossed the gymnasium to the knife-throwing station. Faces followed her as she walked, including the Gamemakers over in their stands, but she kept her eyes forward. She couldn't deny loving the way everyone was interested in where she was going, what she was about to do.
If Marina heard her walk up, she didn't turn around, focused on the blade in her hand.
"That's a beautiful knife," Amethyst said. "Heavy ones like that are the most stable to throw, if the centroid is balanced well."
Marina turned, peering up at her with intelligent brown eyes. "You're Amethyst, right?"
Amethyst smiled. "Yup. And you're Marina? I couldn't help notice you over there, you're pretty good with the throwing-knives. They're one of my favorites"
If Marina was intimidated by that, she didn't show it. She stood with her shoulders back, chin up, a kind of pride emanating from her.
"Thanks," Marina said, a corner of her lips quirking up. As she threw the knife, it was a little low, but still struck the dummy in the stomach. "I like them too."
"I loved your Reaping Day dress by the way," Amethyst added. "The lilac was so pretty. Mine was violet, purple's my favorite color." She had to bite her tongue to not mention the girl Marina had raced for the stage. Instead, she smoothed her purple athletic shirt she'd worn for training that day.
Marina smiled. "Thanks. I accidentally left it on the train. There was a lot happening the morning we got to the Capitol."
Amethyst sighed with a smile. "Tell me about it. I woke up two hours before we even arrived I was so excited. I woke up this morning and just stared out the window at all the skyscrapers, it's so surreal." She turned and found the boys watching them. Amethyst peered back at Marina. "Would you like to join us for a bit? We could go to a station you like."
Marina watched her allies for a moment before nodding. "Sounds great. How do you feel about tridents?"
That was a ranged weapon that Marina wasn't familiar with. But she was a fast learner.
"I'd love it," Amethyst said.
They walked together towards the spear-throwing station.
Marina regarded the others coolly. Amethyst had wondered if she'd feel overwhelmed, being the newcomer, but she seemed perfectly at ease, one hand on her hip as they all introduced themselves.
"How's your morning been going?" Marina asked Marlen.
"Better that District Four is united again," Marlen said with a laugh.
"She wants to go to the trident-throwing station," Amethyst said.
Garrick nodded. "I've been wanting to try that. Are you pretty good?"
"I'm a natural," Marina said with a smile. Was it teasing? Was it a challenge? Or was it just confidence?
And for once, Amethyst couldn't read what someone was thinking.
Nico Araceli - 16 y.o. - D10
...
- Training Center Gymnasium -
Nico was fucking done with trying to tying fucking knots.
He dropped the string that refused to tie into a what the instructor called a sheet bend.
The woman didn't even notice as he walked away. She was too busy admiring the "remarkable bag knot" that a girl was tying to next to him. As Nico left the station, he peered at the number on her back: 8. There were so many faces. He couldn't keep the districts straight for anyone.
An echoing slam made him glance across the gymnasium.
Well, Nico couldn't keep the districts straight for almost anyone.
The boy from District 4 had just thrown a trident so hard at the target that it had been knocked back against the wall. Around him, the group of volunteers whistled and clapped as if it were show. The whole thing might've seemed like they were a crowd of friends, cheering for something innocuous, if the target was shaped like a person - who had a trident skewered into their chest.
It was a trend that, almost every year, those volunteers would form their large alliance. They typically banded together to drive off any other tributes at the beginning of the Games, and then they divided up the treasures from the cornucopia among themselves. It didn't seem like this year would be any different.
"If I was in the arena," Bulla had said, rolling a coin between his fingers, "I'd set their shit on fire."
"You'd die in the bloodbath," Nico had replied with a rare smile.
Bulla flipped him off with a laugh.
On the television in Bulla's small living room, warm with the summer heat, the screen played the 40th Hunger Games. It was one of the quiet moments, after an unsuccessful hunt for weaker tributes that left the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 eating dinner among their spoils. The word "Careers" had started popping up for them. Nico wasn't sure how he felt about it.
But there they sat in the desert arena with jugs full of water for the scorching day and plenty of matches for freezing nights. Meanwhile, a tribute had died the day before of thirst. Normally Nico didn't feel mourn any of the tributes in the Games or worry over them. He already had enough of his own problems. Something, though, about watching tributes scrounge in the burning sand with nothing while the Careers sat there with mounds of things him want to turn off the screen.
As the girl from District 2 ate a ripe orange, juice falling on the sand, Nico felt for the coins in his shorts pocket. He'd taken the money from some kid after school, and had been planning on buying one of the rare, expensive pineapples at the market. Now he didn't feel like it anymore.
"But I'm serious," Bulla had started again. He picked at the old patched up couch they sat on. "Why don't the other tributes just torch their supplies? Otherwise they just have enough to last the whole Games while everyone else struggles."
"But if someone destroyed it," Nico said, "then no one would get the supplies. And you'd just be back to square one."
"At least the Careers wouldn't have it anymore. Then you're all on the same level."
Nico had frowned, and watched one of the stolen coins flip across Bulla's hand. Being on the same level wasn't how life worked. It divvied out a larger deck of cards to some people and barely any to others, and they were all expected to make do the same way. Leveling the playing field didn't work. He had learned quickly that if he wanted something in life, he needed to take it. It wasn't his fault if others weren't willing to do the same.
"I wouldn't destroy it," Nico finally said. "I'd figure out how to get some of it for myself. They've got it all there, it would be wrong not take advantage of that."
Bulla had grinned at that, his smile quick and flashing like the coin.
And surprise, surprise, the winner that year was Wallace Winston, a tribute from District 1. The victory practically fell into his lap. He never had to go hungry a single day, probably not during his entire life, and not he was set with a big mansion and more money than anyone in the districts could dream of.
Nico turned before the Careers could notice him staring. Not that he was the only one.
It seemed like, as much as everyone hated or feared the Careers, most of the tributes couldn't stop glancing over at group. And, of course, the Gamemakers in the stands were watching them with the most interest. What kind of attention get Nico have at the damn knot-tying station compared to the those trained tributes and their lethal weapons?
He couldn't stand around forever. He'd look just as terrified as everyone else. Being doe-eyed wouldn't win him any favor and it wouldn't help.
It was just the reaping. It didn't matter how he felt inside, if his stomach was curdling like old milk, or if he wanted to lean over and be sick under the bright gymnasium lights. He kept his expression emotionless, as if he didn't have a shard of fear left.
Walking in the opposite direction, Nico settled quickly on the crafting station. The instructor was giving an example of how to make a fishhook from vines and a shell to a couple other tributes. Nico nodded as if he were listening, but his thoughts wheeled along, unspooling.
The Careers were, almost a guarantee, going to end up with the majority of supplies at the cornucopia. Maybe it would be like that year where there were only blades, but it didn't matter. They'd have it. And he was going to take some of it.
Why fight at the bloodbath to get supplies if he knew the Careers would just end up with it? They'd have it all at their camp, just begging for someone to take some from right under their nose. It had happened in previous years, of course, and usually it ended with that desperate tribute's picture in the night sky. But Nico wasn't going to try to steal from them alone.
He just needed someone to do the work for him. Someone who seemed desperate, like they couldn't bear going into the Games alone.
As he started halfheartedly tried to follow the example of threading the vine around the sharp shell, Nico peered at the tributes next to him. Neither of them were talking. The number 3 was on the boy's back. The girl had a 9 on hers. Nico hadn't bothered to learn anyone's names. What did they matter at this point? But suddenly he wished he'd remembered something from the Reaping about these two.
That first night on the train, as they'd watched the rerun of that morning, he'd just pretended to watch. He hadn't really looked at the screen much at all. Instead he'd looked just beyond it, at a vase sitting there - just fucking sitting there as decoration - made of gold. His stomach had been full, he'd even been a bit queasy from it all, but he starting thinking off all the food that vase could've bought him. It could've fed him for a lifetime, probably. His family too.
Not that he'd have shared with them.
The blonde boy from 3 quietly asked the instructor something, and the man leaned over to peer at his knot-tying.
Nico took the chance to lean towards the girl from 9. She was nimbly tying her shell up into a makeshift hook, picking up the instructor's work quickly.
"How did you attach that part like that?" he asked her, pointing at the shell on his hook.
The girl glanced over, brown eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, the shell? Splitting the vine, like this."
Nico made a show of turning his own hook around. "Really? I was pretty sure it should be like this."
For a moment, he thought District 9 would go along with what was definitely not the correct way to the tie the vine in a knot, and take Nico's word for it.
Instead, the girl peered over at him again, and her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She shrugged, and just like that the conversation was over. "No, you have to split the knot first."
Nico bit back a disappointed sigh and nodded. "Thanks." He fiddled with the hook for another few moments as he mentally crossed off the two from District 3 and 9 from his prospective allies. He set the hook down and left the station, scanning the gymnasium for another tribute to size up. Caroline was obviously not a possibility. She would probably burst into tears again at the idea of stealing something - even if it would save her life after she'd tossed away at the reaping. Even then he could see her looking nervous at the knife station as the instructor demonstrated how to properly hold it in a fight.
Just as he started to walk towards the boy girl with a 7 on his back, a clatter of metal made him stop.
Over at the throwing knives station, a girl bent down to pick up several blades she'd dropped. A dark blush crept over her cheeks.
Nico walked over, noting the 12 pinned to her back. "Here you go," he said, stooping down and handing her a couple of the knives.
"Thanks," District 12 said sheepishly, avoiding his eyes, grabbing the knives in a fist haphazardly to collect them all quickly. She winced as one pricked her wrist. Nico did remember her now from the parade. District 12 were miners. It was almost as ridiculous as his costume had been. He almost felt bad for her. But not really.
"Did you want a tutorial too?" the instructor asked, her hair cherry-red and eyebrows made of glitter.
"Do you mind if I join?" Nico asked the girl from 12.
She bit her lip and shook her head, setting all the knives on the table. There was a scar down her face, carved down into her neck, and he had to swallow back the question of how it happened. Scars were common in 10 and, it seemed, possibly in 12 too.
As the instructors showed them how to properly hold the small throwing knives, Nico peered over at the girl. "I'm Nico, by the way. From Ten."
"Raven," the girl said. Her long dark hair swept down like a curtain, hiding her expression as she picked up a knife.
Nico fought back a sigh. There had to be somebody in this damn gymnasium who could be manipulated. But that couldn't happen if he couldn't get her to talk at all.
As she turned and throw the knife - and missed the target - a moon locket glinted around her neck.
"That's pretty nice. Is it your token?" Nico said.
Raven finally turned to him, seeming slightly shocked he'd asked. But then it was like he could imagine what she was thinking, that human part of her brain forgetting they were all competitors for a moment, and glad to feel human instead of a tribute for just a second.
Nodding, Raven nodded slightly at him. "Yeah, it is. Do... what's your token?"
"Don't have one," Nico said simply. It was the truth. He wanted no part of District 10 with him in the arena. It was behind him. But Raven's ring was a good piece. It wasn't ornate, but it looked like real silver, the kind that would go for several weeks' worth of grain and bread, and a few baskets of apples with ten or so cans of oil, back home.
At the ropes course, a boy with a 12 on his back was scaling the floor-to-ceiling netting with ease.
Nico turned back to Raven as he picked up a knife from the table. "It seems nice to have part of home here, though," he lied.
She nodded.
"Everything so different here," he said.
"That's one word for it," Raven said softly. She glanced around the gymnasium once.
"Do you miss District Twelve?"
"I miss the people," Raven said. She blinked quickly. "I think I do miss it. Um... do you miss Ten?"
He tried his best to look sympathetic and shy. "Well... actually yeah. I have a brother. We're close. It's hard to not be around him."
"I have a sister," Raven said, her voice a little brighter. "I miss her too."
When the instructor cast them an impatient look, Nico threw the knife.
He'd expected it to miss the target. He hadn't really paid attention to the instructor at all.
But the knife stuck just outside the bull's-eye.
His eyebrows rose for a moment before he schooled his features. Raven had peered over at him, a new look in her eyes.
Princess Daylight - 13 y.o. - D2
...
- Training Center Gymnasium -
Princess ran her hand along the arrows.
She'd never seen so many kinds. It made the training rooms in District 2 look meager.
Just the fletching alone was varied like a treasure trove. There were feather-shaped, traditional ones. There were helical ones. The were even swooping shield ones.
By now, the instructor knew she didn't need much help at the archery station. Princess had spent a couple hours here yesterday, and she had found her way back today too. She couldn't resist. Her favorite bow was the small recurve one, all silver and sleek, just like her favorite at the academy.
She had hated almost every moment she spent there. But archery had become her favorite kind of training, the only kind she really liked. The knives were cold and sometimes she cut her hands, and the swords were too heavy, but the bow and arrows let her forget all of that. Standing there in front of the targets at the academy, Princess had been able to forget the rest of District 2 - her parents, her bloodthirsty classmates, everything. The arrows worked with her, and they never let her down.
And she wanted to not think about District 2 now. That was behind her.
Princess picked up the recurve bow and moved her feet shoulder-width apart, nocking a helical arrow with practiced precision.
She lifted her arms, breathing out slowly as she drew the string back. This was always the most difficult part as she pointed the arrowhead at the target. Her arms shook the slightest bit from the weight of the bowstring, pulled taut, but she didn't waver. When she loosed the arrow, it struck the bull's-eye.
"Excellent work," the instructor said with a grin, already handing her another arrow.
"Thanks, Marcella," Princess replied with a giggle.
Yesterday, after spending so long at the archery station, she'd asked the instructor her name. The aged woman had seemed surprised, as if no tribute had ever asked her that before. Princess couldn't help but be curious about Marcella's life here in the Capitol, about how she'd learned archery. But she didn't ask, as she was worried that Marcella might ask the same questions about her and she didn't want to admit what her life in 2 had been like.
"I think some others noticed what a good shot you are," Marcella said, and nodded almost imperceptibly behind Princess.
She turned, and found some of the purple-robed Gamemakers watching her. A few of them wrote something on their tablets. A thrill zipped through her. The Gamemakers were paying attention to her. One even bobbed his head once to another, as if in approval of her talent.
Princess turned back to the targets, determined to make another bull's-eye and prove it wasn't just a fluke the first time. That she really was just as skilled as any of tribute from her district, even if she was younger that most.
The lunch bell rang as Princess nocked the second arrow.
"I'll be back," she said with a smile, handing Marcella the recurve bow. She didn't want anyone else to take it after lunch ended.
Like yesterday, the tributes all filed into the cafeteria connected to the gymnasium. Carts of food bordered the room. The smell of roasted vegetables and fresh-baked bread made Princess' stomach growl. She hadn't realized what time it was, the morning had passed so quickly.
After she piled chicken with an orange sauce and blue grapes onto her plate, Princess peered out over the cafeteria.
Whereas almost all the tributes yesterday had sat alone, ignoring one another, now more groups had formed. Were there really alliances that fast? Then again, training was half over now. The boy from 9 and the girl from 6 sat together. There was the were the boys from 10 and 8 with several plates of food. And then there was the table of volunteers again, but with a new addition as the girl from 4 was with them now.
As if he could feel her looking, Garrick glanced over his shoulder.
He regarded Princess with a look of vague disgust, as if she were some insect skittering across the cafeteria floor.
Her cheeks heated. She couldn't help but picture her parents' faces. They'd regularly had the same expression towards her for every scraped knee, every tear, every time she was sick and had to miss training. It made her turn from Garrick, anger setting her jaw.
He was there with all those other tributes, surrounded by friends already like he's always been at the training academy in 2. They all gravitated to each other like that. She couldn't stand their kind - her kind, in a way, but not really. She wasn't like them as they gleefully picked up weapons and imagined sinking them into another tribute's heart. They'd volunteered to kill; she'd volunteered to live.
But suddenly the idea of sitting at a table alone was unbearable.
Garrick's table burst into a round of raucous laughter just like the day before. She couldn't sit through lunch listening to that, knowing Garrick would see her sitting alone and just keep thinking she was pathetic.
Nearby, a girl sat at a table by herself.
Barely giving herself time to think about, Princess sat her plate down across from the girl.
"Hi," she said brightly. "Mind if I sit here?"
The girl, from District 7 if Princess remembered right, looked up from her soup.
She was pale with dark hazel eyes, and her red hair was half-falling out of its bun. She couldn't be more than a year older.
The girl frowned down at Princess' plate. "Um..."
Princess sat down. "Is the soup any good? Mushroom, right? I really liked the plum one."
"Uh, yeah," the girl said slowly, "it's alright."
"I'm Princess by the way." She smiled, hoping she seemed friendly. "It's Evlin, isn't it?"
The girl nodded once. "You're from District Two. Aren't you?"
Princess tried not to let her smile slip. "Yes."
From the way Evlin pressed her lips together and eyed Princess, being from 2 wasn't a good thing.
"I honestly don't like it there, though," Princess said hastily. "District Seven sounds much nicer with all your forests."
"I guess," Evlin said.
Princess clenched her fork, trying and failing to maintain her smile.
She'd expected Evlin to be happy to have someone to talk to. Princess had always wanted a friend to eat lunch with, to talk with - but this was going horribly.
"I'll go get us some water," Princess said. She stood up, hurrying over to the drink carts, keeping her head down in case she caught Garrick's eye again. She poured two glasses and took a breath before turning around.
Off in the gymnasium, she noticed the Gamemakers all gathered around with the instructors. No doubt they were sharing insights into the tributes. One of the purple-robed women was talking to Marcella. Princess couldn't help the ember of hope in her heart that maybe they were talking about her. Maybe they were praising her and her skill, saying that she was actually much more skilled at archery than the other volunteers.
As she sat back down at the table and passed Evlin her glass of water, Princess cleared her throat.
"The Gamemakers are over there," she said. She didn't smile this time. "Talking to the instructors."
Evlin finally seemed interested. She peered over at the gymnasium, forgetting about her mushroom soup.
"I thought they mostly scored everyone based on our private training sessions and watching us at the stations," Princess said. "But maybe they take the instructor's opinions into account."
She'd spent some time that morning at the fire-making and knot-tying stations, but it was clear she wasn't good at either. She just kept floating back over to the archery one instead. It was comfortable and familiar.
That morning, Scoria had spoken with Princess in the lounge, away from Mason and the mentoring advice he was walking Garrick through.
"You'll need to visit some of the survival stations," Scoria had said. "You need make sure you'll be able to feed yourself."
"That's what sponsors are for," Princess replied. Her own mentor had survived at one point on food sent from silver parachutes and Capitol donors.
Scoria watched her carefully, with an expression that Princess couldn't identify. "You should still prove you're self-reliant. I know the weapon stations will be tempting, but you should spend some time today getting comfortable with the shelter-making one or the edible insects."
Princess hadn't hidden her revulsion at that. She didn't want to eat bugs.
"And," Scoria continued, "try to speak to some of the other tributes. The girl from 5 could be an asset in the arena. Tributes with allies are far more likely to survive the Games than those without."
So far, Princess hadn't wanted to do that. She didn't want to be like Garrick or his allies, just pairing up to help one another survive for a little while only to stab each other in the back. She wanted an ally, honestly, but on her own terms. She wanted someone who wouldn't just see her as someone to eventually dispatch. She really wanted a friend, those kind of alliances where they were willing to protect one another.
"I saw you at the ax station this morning," Princess said. "You're really good. I'm sure they noticed you."
Evlin tore her gaze from the Gamemakers. "I think they probably noticed your district partner and his allies more."
Princess tried not to flinch. She took a moment to take a sip of cold water to clear her head. "Well, there isn't much to notice. Garrick and all of them show off, but honestly they can't do much else. They couldn't survive on their own." She took a shred of Scoria's own words. "They're really not even able to feed themselves."
"You mean like plants and stuff?" Evlin asked.
Princess fought down her excitement. Evlin was finally truly interested in talking. "Yeah. Garrick actually almost failed at an animal tracking exam, everyone knew. They're good with weapons but that's about it." She tried not to squirm at how much the statement applied to herself too.
"But not you?" Evlin said neutrally.
"Uh..." Princess fought for a way to phrase her words. She stared down at plate. If she wanted an ally, she'd need to be honest about her skills. "I'm still learning. But at least I know that. They don't really care about what they know or don't as long as weapon's in their hands."
She was almost surprised at her own words. She never would've let herself say any of it around Scoria or Mason, or any of the other students at the academy in 2. It felt good to actually let the thoughts, to talk to someone who didn't find training to be most paramount thing in life.
"Don't you all train in academies?" Evlin said, her voice quiet.
Princess nodded after a moment.
"What did you learn?"
"A lot. Mostly combat, but other things like strategy too. I like archery the most. And running. I'm a fast runner."
"You were in class with the boy from your district?"
"Well, he's with the older kids." Princess shrugged. "But I saw him around."
Evlin peered over at the table of volunteers. They were laughing again. "You didn't want to ally with them?"
They never asked me. But Princess knew that, even if they had, she would've turned them down.
She sat up taller. "Not at all. I'm not like them."
So. It's been a while. Hi.
The last time I updated was May 25th, 2022, which is a full year ago and some change now that it's June.
My life has changed a lot since then, and stayed the same in a lot of other ways. I've had one of the best years of my life, and one of the worst. I apologize for not updating in so long. I did - and do - want to continue this story. I think it'll help me heal a bit too, I guess.
Honestly, I still have so many plans with this story. I'm attached to the characters, and I love reading your reviews and hearing everyone's thoughts on the the story! I want that still. So I will be continuing this, and hopefully will be updating much much earlier than another two years. I think the new announcement of the next Hunger Games book will be motivating, too.
Anyway, I hope you are all doing well and that this year has been kind to you so far. If you don't feel like continuing to keep up with my story, I completely understand, since there was such a massive gap in updates. But if you want to stick around, I want to write a great story for you.
Thank you to anyone reading this chapter, it means a lot to me.
Thank you to CharmedMilliE- Karry Master and wiifan2002 for reviewing the last chapter!
See you hopefully very soon with a new update. :)
~ Meghan