A Victor's Secret

seven

Chapter 7 – Juliet

"Remember what we discussed, bud?" Luke looked across the table at Garth and raised his eyebrows as he took another bite of oatmeal. The younger boy leaned forward, nodding his head in earnest.

"Keep a low profile, stick to the survival stations, but dedicate a few hours to learning how to handle a knife or something."

Luke nods in approval, a small smile playing on his lips. Ardice was picking at her cereal, but I could tell that she was listening. Maybe she was warming up to us after all. I just hoped that it wouldn't be too late when she finally decided to take our advice. The redhead looked up, meeting my eyes, but looked down quickly. It wasn't much, but it was better than the constant scowl I had been getting from the moment she stepped onto the train.

Garth was a sponge, absorbing every single word that came out of Luke's mouth. I had hoped that Ardice would be willing to take my advice, but I didn't blame her for being angry at the world. At least anger could be channeled into survival.

I put my spoon down, my hunger subsiding as I thought about what could happen in the upcoming week.

"Luke's right, it's important for you to spend at least some time with a weapon so you can defend yourself. I would focus on knives. Not that you have to learn how to throw, but learn to feel comfortable with it in your hand. Unless you head into the Cornucopia, which you should not do," I shot both Garth and Ardice a pointed look, "then you'll probably only have access to a knife if you grab a backpack."

Our two tributes nodded along, and I felt the knot in my stomach lessen.

"And survival stations." Luke cut in, emphasizing his point. "Defending yourself is important, but the arena is one of your largest adversaries."

I nodded in agreement. "And if you have the chance, learn a little something about medicine. Being able to stitch yourself up or identify helpful plants can mean life or death."

Luke and I looked at each other, both remembering our own times in the arena. If Moe hadn't been able to help me after Atlas tore into me, there was a high probability I would be dead. The same went for Luke, whose own allies stitched him up numerous times. They turned on him in the end, but he still owed them his life in a weird, twisted way.

Garth groaned good naturedly. "So, basically, do everything. Sounds easy."

"What about allies?" Ardice questioned hesitantly, looking nervously at Garth out of the corner of her eye. He didn't seem to notice, his eyes flicking back and forth between Luke and I as he awaited our answer.

"Use your best judgement." I said hesitantly, placing my hand on Luke's arm under the table as he grimaced. He wasn't the most accepting of alliances, not that I blamed him, but they were what kept me alive in the arena. I recalled our worst fight before my games, when he had punched a hole in the wall because I found allies without consulting him first. I had ended up hitting him in the head with a picture frame. Hilda hadn't been happy with us after that.

I tried my hardest not to ever think back to Luke's time in the arena. I had it hard in my Games – everyone did – but Luke had it worse. He fought for his life almost every second, seemingly never able to catch a break even for a few moments. While my survival was a lot of luck, his was anything but. He had allied with the District Eight tributes originally, but they turned on him toward the end when they realized how strong he was. He entered the finale in a temporary alliance with District Five, but it was only out of strategy and necessity rather than trust. My alliances saved me in the arena – his just hurt him. That was one of the reasons the Capitol was so enamored with him. He was everything they could have hoped for and more in a victor.