"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.
I would be utterly terrified if it wasn't my best buddy and fellow District Three tribute, Phillip Dex.
I run over after gaining back some coherency, but my expression still reads shock as I approach him. I can't even form a full sentence. "Dex! What-?... How-?... The throwing!... Perfect aim!" I shake my head again, "I thought you said you had no special skills!?"
He was just prepping for another throw when I came over, but now turns a light shade of magenta. Phillip's arm droops, knife still in hand, and he smiles shyly. "I didn't know I had it in me."
"What else can you do?"
"Well, I know I can't throw a spear for the life of me. It's too long and awkward. That's why I tried this out. And surprise, surprise, I'm actually decent at it."
I grab his shoulder and beam, "You're more than decent!"
He turns a deeper magenta and shrugs, "No, I'm not. I'm not nearly as good as the bigger districts."
"Yeah you were! How many of them could hit the bull's eye when they tried?"
"A couple of them."
"Okay, okay, okay. At least think you're as good as them."
"I don't know..." he mumbles, looking down at the knife he's holding.
"Phillip, this will help you so much in the arena! This will be your advantage!"
He smiles ruefully, "Our advantage." I raise my eyebrows in surprise, and touched. He holds out a hand for me to grab. "Friends til the end, right?" I stare at the hand, unsure for a moment. He does have an advantage now. This really could save him. This could be his ticket out of the arena. Should we still stick together now that he has a foot in the door? I'll be more of a hindrance to him. "What? Is there a problem?"
"Well, think about it. Now you have a chance at winning."
He laughs artificially, "Yeah right, Liv. Just because I can throw some kitchen utensils around doesn't mean I'm getting out."
"It gives you a better chance than before."
"It gives us a better chance," he corrects. "We're still a team, aren't we?" I look into his turquoise eyes and it's like I'm looking into the eyes of my little brother. They're begging for an answer that will make everything better and I can help but keep him happy. I grab his hand, and squeeze. "Friends?"
"Friends," I sigh. And our hands drop. "Well, I'm going to another station."
"Which one?" I scan the gymnasium again and then point. "Edible foods? Shouldn't you try some weapons?"
"Yeah, but not yet." Phillip opens his mouth to argue, but I making a zipping motion over his mouth. "I'm going to, I swear, but right now, I want to cover basic necessities."
He rolls his eyes and shrugs, "Whatever you say, Liv. I'm going over to..." He rubs his chin as he looks for a place to go. "... Hand-to-hand combat." He laughs a little, "I'll probably snap like a twig." I join in laughing because he is on the scrawny side. "Have fun eating."
I turn on my heel, but wave over my shoulder, "Try not to break too many bones over there."
"No promises!" he calls back.
While I only knew a few edible items found in the wild, I picked up on everything pretty quickly. This sort of stuff, I can handle. Memorizing things, identification and classification. Things that require brain power. I'm good with this. By the end of our little session, I think I could manage to live in a wooded area and survive off of plants for as long as my body could take it. The man even compliments me on how quick a learner I am.
I move on to camoflague. Here, I'm not so successful. It's like art. Painting your face and body to blend in with your surroundings. I'm no artist. I wouldn't say I'm a complete failure here, but I know what I can use in the arena to aide in hiding. I won't be a pro at it, but it can help.
Everyone gathers for lunch with food on carts and we're allowed to serve ourselves. I find Phillip picking up plates and he comes over to hand me one. We pile on the food and sit in a corner chatting it up. We discussed our successes and failures of the day so far. He strongly suggests I try one of the weapons stations. But then I get on his case about trying a couple of the one's I've been to. He agrees and we even shake on it to make it an official deal and when lunch is over we go our separate ways again.
First, I go to archery. I thought maybe it wasn't as hard as it looks. I'm wrong. First off, they're were so many different bows to choose from. It was hard to even pick up a few of them, so I went with the simplest. When I got to the shooting range, it took forever to get the arrow held properly. The trainer had to come to my side a dozen times to correct my form. My first few shots missed by far, but after a dozen times, I finally hit the target. I never got bull's eye, but hitting it's a start.
After archery, I go with sword fighting. I'm actually okay at this. I'm not a pro at handling a sword, but I know how to use one now. I go over to hand-to-hand combat next, though I'm very timid because Phillip said he wasn't so good here. But I thought why not try. Oddly, it all mostly reminds me of physics. Fulcrums and levers and such, if that makes sense. It's all about knowing how to get out of a situation, then taking advantage of an opening. I'm sure it'll be a lot harder once a weapon is factored in, but we don't get to practice that. To get away from these violent stations, I try my hand at starting fires with a variety of resources. I like this one. It seems I'm quite the pyro-maniac. I can start a fire from anything. I'm here until it's time to go.
The rest of the day is like yesterday night. We shower, then dine discussing the day's event, and go to our rooms. I asked Phillip if he wanted to hang out in mine, but he insists he can sleep tonight. I can't sleep though. So I'm wide awake when he comes knocking, eyes red and puffy from a nightmare about what we'll be doing in a few days. I get him talking on my bed again, picking up where he left off last night, and he falls asleep on my shoulder again. I tuck him in, kiss his cheek good night, and take my spot on the chair.
The following two days pass by too quickly for my taste. I have gone to most of the stations by the third day, revisiting a handful of them for precaution or out of interest, but during lunch, I can't help but feel terrified.
"What are you so worried about, Liv?" Phillip asks with a mouthful of food.
I cup my face in my palm and prop my elbow on the arm of my chair. "I have no idea what I'm going to do during my session! You have your knives to throw around. Me: I've got nothing!"
"What about sword fighting? You were good with that. Or maybe archery, you're so much better according to what I saw before lunch." He cracks a smile, "Or you can set the gym on fire."
I bite back a grin, wanting to scowl, but he makes it so difficult. "Shut up, Dex." I cover my face with my hands and groan, "I should have focused on combat instead of all those other things like food and first aide."
Phillip pats my shoulder, "You're a smart girl, Liv. Too bad you can't show them that. But I'm sure you'll figure something out." I look up at him hopefully, but frown down at my food.
We go to put up our emptied plates, and along the way, we pass the group of cheating districts, who tend to flock together at lunch. My girl friend is murmuring something. All I get is "District Three." So she's talking about us? On the way back I hear, "District Three girl and her little boyfriend... all over each other..." I stop in place, completely thrown by what she said. Boyfriend!? They have no right to bring up Dell! Phillip runs right into me and we both topple to the ground. They all laugh at us. "They're the lovers of District Three," she spits, still laughing.
My mouth opens wide as I take in what she meant. Me? And Phillip? A couple of lovers? I almost want to laugh myself. But instead I do this: stand up, stand Phillip up and turn to them. I laugh boisterously for a moment, slapping my knee, throwing my head back. "Lovers! Boyfriend! Good one!" The I clasp my hands around his neck and throw a leg around his waist and his eyes bug out. "Because I'm always doing this with him, right?" All of they're faces are painted with incredulous expressions. I just smile then drop my leg and cling to my friend. Then I pull him back to our corner.
The District One boy is called and as he passes, his mouth hangs open and he cocks an eyebrow, but I just smile mischieviously. When he's gone, I start laughing my butt off. Phillip's the darkest pink I've seen him yet. "Liv? What was that?"
"Probably a psychotic break." I giggle more. "They said you were my boyfriend."
His nose wrinkles, "Why?"
"Because we're genuinely friends. They only tolerate each other because they know they'd easily kill one another when it comes down to it." I pause, then add, "Sorry. I'm still panicking about what I'll do, so I snapped."
"Yeah, just don't do it again. Please." He folds his hands together and twiddles his thumbs.
We sat awkwardly until Phillip has his name called. I wish him luck and squeeze his hand before he walks out. I lay my head back against the chair as I waited my turn, which takes forever to come. My nerves are getting the better of me, making me regret eating so much. But at long last, someone says, "Olevia Planar."
I stand up and walk out of the room, fighting back vomit. I take deep, cleansing breaths I as return to the gym. All I can think is What am I going to do? What am I going to do?! I have nothing to show them! "Think, Liv, think," I mutter to myself once I'm standing front and center. I turn in a circle, looking for something, anything I could do that wouldn't look ridiculous. "Like Phillip said, I'm a smart girl. I'm pretty darn intelligent." I grimace while my back is turned, "If only I could show them that.... Oh!"
I'm hit with an idea. I can show them how smart I am! I run to the nearest station and grab a chalkboard and wheel it to the center. I look up at the Gamemakers and see they're curious. Smiling smugly, I go looking for chalk, but for some reason, I can find a single piece, so I'm stuck the paints from camouflage. I dip my finger in the goo and start to write a long equation. I take up the whole board and check my math before setting down the paint. But now I feel ridiculous. The equation isn't exactly easy to solve, but this isn't too impressive.
I run around picking up an armful of weapons. I drop them all to the floor except the bow and arrow. I aim for the board, and let it fly. It sticks firmly, making the board spin, but I immediately pick my next weapon, a knife. I throw, it sticks, and I proceed with darts. I do the same thing farther away, every shot stuck in place. When I'm done, I walk back over and take a look at my work and notice something peculiar. Every hit, I know for a fact a decimal was directly underneath.
For purely show, I dip my finger back in the paint and sign my name in a flurry. I turn to the Gamemakers and bow graciously. One stands up, "You may go now, Miss Planar." I nod and leave. But my nerves get the best of me as step onto the elevator. Shoot! What was I thinking?! Doing a math problem and shooting at a chalkboard?! I'm sure to get a one! A zero, if that's possible!
I'm practically hyperventilating when I reach my floor, and Phillip doesn't help by scaring the wits out of me. "How'd you do?!" he asks, jumping me when the elevator opens. I try to control my breathing, but it's no use. I just want ot run into my room and hide under the covers. I try to make a break for it, but he grabs my wrist. "I'm sure you did fine, Liv. Don't panic." I still don't stop. He wraps his arms around me. "Scores aren't a big deal anyway. Who cares about them?"
I do. Everyone does! He leads me to my room and sets me on my bed. I lay my head on his shoulder and choke back tears, and he just rubs my back soothingly for a while.
"You're fine, Olevia. You're just over exaggerating. There's no need to panic over this." I shake my head. "No there isn't. Everyone gets nervoud over their scores. I'm nervous too." Hours later, I wake up tucked into my bed. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. I sit up and look over at my friend whose staring out the window. I apologize for my outburst and crying, but he just shrugs and takes my hand. "Why don't we go eat dinner? Dimitria already came by half an hour ago, but I told her you just needed a nap." I nod, and stand up and allow him to lead me down the hall. For once, I'm silent during the entire meal, and this causes some concerned looks. My mentors and guide try to cheer me up, but I'm not budging.
"Olevia, is something the matter? You're being unusually quiet," Beetee asks. I shrug, still not wanting to speak. Shouldn't it be obvious? "Was it your training session? In front of the Gamemakers?" I sigh, and nod slowly. Of course, why else would I be so silent? "How do you think you did?" Horribly, but I merely I shrug again.
Dimitria repeats what Phillip said earlier, "Scores aren't a big deal anyway." I look at her skeptically. "Interviews are what it's all about, Miss Planar. Once they see you tomrrow, they'll forget all about scores." This makes a knot in my stomach. Standing in front of thousands of people, millions more on live TV, answering questions the night before my death. Way to raise my mood, Miss Lee. At least I'm sulking. The way she likes her tributes.
They still try to get me to talk, but I keep my mouth shut. I've pretty much given up. I'll be lucky just to get an average five. Heck, I'd even take a four. When dinner is done, we go into the same room we watched the chariot rides in. I plop onto the ground, hunch my shoulders and hold my chinin my palm, elbow on the carpet. Phillip takes his spot next to me and holds my other hand in both of his as the anthem starts to play.
After a few minutes, there's a small cheer and applause, "Nine! Congratulations, Phillip! Well done!"
"Wow, that's unexpected," he says quietly. They congratulate him more. "Thanks, everyone."
I give him a hug because nine isn't a bad score at all. He's right up there with the cheating districts. "That's terrific, Dex. You did amazingly."
He squeezes my hand harder and I shut my eyes tight. Please be a four or five. Please be a four or five. Please be a four or five. I suck in a breath. "Olevia! A seven! That's great! You had us so worried!"
"What?!" My eyes flash open as they all come to stand around us. Phillip pulls me in for a hug as my eyes fall on the screen. I see a picture of me and the number seven below. It's not as good a score aas a seven, but it's saying I'm above avarage. But that can't be true. "No, no, no. This must be a mistake. I deserve a four! What I did was not impressive."
My friend pulls away, "What did you do, anyway?" I quickly explain my pathetic plan to show them that I'm smart, then because that was stupid, shot a a few things so there was some action. He only smiles wider, "That's brilliant, Liv! I told you were smart! They know it now too!" Then he hugs me again
I look up to my mentors, "I got lucky! I only hit the decimals by pure chance! I didn't even aim for them! I don't deserve a seven!"
"Yes, you do!" argues Phillip. I scowl, though he doesn't see it because he's looking up at the adults. He pulls away again and looks me dead in the eye, "I know Dell and Celera are proud of us right now. Our numbers are definitely... respectable."
The right corner of my mouth turns up slightly. "Yeah, you're right." And I finally hug him back.