第30章
people help me? when we
were dying of starvation, no one helped me! no one except
peeta. once i had something to barter with, things changed.
i’m a tough trader. or am i? what effect do i have? that i’m
weak and needy? is he suggesting that i got good deals be-
cause people pitied me? i try to think if this is true. perhaps
some of the merchants were a little generous in their trades,
but i always attributed that to their long-standing relationship
with my father. besides, my game is first-class. no one pitied
me!
i glower at the roll sure he meant to insult me.
after about a minute of this, haymitch says, “well, then.
well, well, well. katniss, there’s no guarantee they’ll be bows
and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with
the gamemakers, show them what you can do. until then, stay
clear of archery. are you any good at trapping?”
“i know a few basic snares,” i mutter.
“that may be significant in terms of food,” says haymitch.
“and peeta, she’s right, never underestimate strength in the
arena. very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a
player. in the training center, they will have weights, but
don’t reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tri-
91
butes. the plan’s the same for both of you. you go to group
training. spend the time trying to learn something you don’t
know. throw a spear. swing a mace. learn to tie a decent
knot. save showing what you’re best at until your private ses-
sions. are we clear?” says haymitch. peeta and i nod.
“one last thing. in public, i want you by each other’s side
every minute,” says haymitch. we both start to object, but
haymitch slams his hand on the table. “every minute! it’s not
open for discussion! you agreed to do as i said! you will be to-
gether, you will appear amiable to each other. now get out.
meet effie at the elevator at ten for training.”
i bite my lip and stalk back to my room, making sure peeta
can hear the door slam. i sit on the bed, hating haymitch, hat-
ing peeta, hating myself for mentioning that day long ago in
the rain.
it’s such a joke! peeta and i going along pretending to be
friends! talking up each other’s strengths, insisting the other
take credit for their abilities. because, in fact, at some point,
we’re going to have to knock it off and accept we’re bitter ad-
versaries. which i’d be prepared to do right now if it wasn’t
for haymitch’s stupid instruction that we stick together in
training. it’s my own fault, i guess, for telling him he didn’t
have to coach us separately. but that didn’t mean i wanted to
do everything with peeta. who, by the way, clearly doesn’t
want to be partnering up with me, either.
i hear peeta’s voice in my head. she has no idea. the effect
she can have. obviously meant to demean me. right? but a tiny
part of me wonders if this was a compliment. that he meant i
92
was appealing in some way. it’s weird, how much he’s noticed
me. like the attention he’s paid to my hunting. and apparent-
ly, i have not been as oblivious to him as i imagined, either.
the flour. the wrestling. i have kept track of the boy with the
bread.
it’s almost ten. i clean my teeth and smooth back my hair
again. anger temporarily blocked out my nervousness about
meeting the other tributes, but now i can feel my anxiety ris-
ing again. by the time i meet effie and peeta at the elevator, i
catch myself biting my nails. i stop at once.
the actual training rooms are below ground level of our
building. with these elevators, the ride is less than a minute.
the doors open into an enormous gymnasium filled with vari-
ous weapons and obstacle courses. although it’s not yet ten,
we’re the last ones to arrive. the other tributes are gathered
in a tense circle. they each have a cloth square with their dis-
trict number on it pinned to their shirts. while someone pins
the number 12 on my back, i do a quick assessment. peeta and
i are the only two dressed alike.
as soon as we join the circle, the head trainer, a tall, athletic
woman named atala steps up and begins to explain the train-
ing schedule. experts in each skill will remain at their stations.
we will be free to travel from area to area as we choose, per
our mentor’s instructions. some of the stations teach survival
skills, others fighting techniques. we are forbidden to engage
in any combative exercise with another tribute. there are as-
sistants on hand if we want to practice with a partner.
93
when atala begins to read down the list of the skill sta-
tions, my eyes can’t help flitting around to the other tributes.
it’s the first time we’ve been assembled, on level ground, in
simple clothes. my heart sinks. almost all of the boys and at
least half of the girls are bigger than i am, even though many
of the tributes have never been fed properly. you can see it in
their bones, their skin, the hollow look in their eyes. i may be
smaller naturally, but overall my family’s resourcefulness has
given me an edge in that area. i stand straight, and while i’m
thin, i’m strong. the meat and plants from the woods com-
bined with the exertion it took to get them have given me a
healthier body than most of those i see around me.
the exceptions are the kids from the wealthier districts, the
volunteers, the ones who have been fed and trained through-
out their lives for this moment. the tributes from 1, 2, and 4
traditionally have this look about them. it’s technically against
the rules to train tributes before they reach the capitol but it
happens every year. in district 12, we call them the career
tributes, or just the careers. and like as not, the winner will
be one of them.
the slight advantage i held coming into the training cen-
ter, my fiery entrance last night, seems to vanish in the pres-
ence of my competition. the other tributes were jealous of us,
but not because we were amazing, because our stylists were.
now i see nothing but contempt in the glances of the career
tributes. each must have fifty to a hundred pounds on me.
they project arrogance and brutality. when atala releases us,
94
they head straight for the deadliest-looking weapons in the
gym and handle them with ease.
i’m thinking that it’s lucky i’m a fast runner when peeta
nudges my arm and i jump. he is still beside me, per hay-
mitch’s instructions. his expression is sober. “where would
you like to start?”