Not In My Favor

Chapter 5

"I think she meant for that to be you."

I turn to Phillip and glare at him. "No, I would have never guessed that after she snapped at me." All I did was bump into the girl. But now, I bet, she's going to be the one aiming for me the first day.

"Are you going over there?"

I laugh out once, "No! Are you crazy? She'll kill me."

"Tributes aren't allowed to fight before going into the arena. It's illegal or something like that."

Just then, she picks up another spear and effortlessly throws it at the dummy again. It hits directly above the last one, practically in the heart. I wince like it was my own torso the point had made contact with. I gulp, "She doesn't seem like the type to care much for rules." I scan the gymnasium, searching for a station to go to first. I point across to a booth across the place. "I'm going over there."

Phillip cocks an eyebrow, "First aid?"

"I have a feeling I'll be getting more injuries than giving, so it could be useful. Plus, if she does try to kill me today, I'll have medical supplies around to save my life."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, I'm going to see how badly I can handle a weapon."

"Have fun," I say cheerfully.

"Oh, I will," he retorts will matching eagerness.

And we both nod curtly to one another, then split up. I go straight toward the first aid station, trying to avoid eye contact with any other of the cheating districts' tributes. I'm trying not to look at them at all quite yet, not until I'm far from the weapons I'm guessing they handle with expertise. The cheaters. I do however see some of the other tributes standing around awkwardly still, still unsure. No doubt, that would be Phillip and I if we weren't taking this seriously. I still have no idea if I'll make it past the first minute (because with my luck, I would fall off the circle and be blown to bits) let alone the first day. But at least I'm trying to use my time wisely. I reach my station and ask, "This is the first aid station, correct?"

The women here smiles brightly, and claps her hands together. "Why, yes it is." I'm going to take a wild guess and say not many people appreciate this station as much as I might. "Are you interested in learning anything?"

I nod, and tell her what I told Phillip. "I have a feeling I'll be getting more injuries than giving, so it could be useful." I don't mention the fear of being illegally attacked by another tribute during training is also a factor. "Where do we begin?"

She pulls me into the station and begins to fill my head with knowledge. I learn the proper way of wrapping all sorts of injuries. From a superficial flesh wound to a broken femur to a stab wound in the gut. If an injury isn't taken care of correctly, it could mean losing your life to something like a stupid infection. She even had me practice stitching. One year, a tribute used fishing line to fix up a deep gash on her arm. While the idea of doing this to myself is stomach-churning, I'd rather be safe than sorry. She then tells me all about different ointments and salts and lotions that have been given to tributes as gifts during the games, and a bunch of others that are basic. She also tells me how to identify most of them by scents or touch. Turns out some of them are quite similar, but have very adverse affects on a wound.

When I've had my fill of medical education, I thank her and walk out to pick my next venture. I rub my chin, scanning the other stations. What to do, what to do? Maybe take a crack on some weaponry now? I look over and see my new best girlfriend hasn't moved from that area yet, so I shake my head. That's a no. But then something catches my eye. At the area set up for target practice, I see someone who keeps hitting a bull's eye with knives. I watched for a few minutes in amazement and awe, as one after another, the tribute hit each target. At one point, they back up to see if they could throw from a farther distance. Their aim was off for a moment, but after a couple rounds, perfection was reached again.