"Fishergirl" - The 67th Hunger Games

Chapter Five

Author's notes: training, training, training! *woot!*

Hope y'all like! Please please please please please comment it would make me the happiest person on earth. :3

Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the hunger games idea + characters. Sadly, I don't. :'(

<3, Indigoplains

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I am woken up aprubtly by Poppy the next morning. Last night was completely a blur; I remember Stringbean and I getting caught by Finnick, and then yelling death threats at each other. I then remember stomping off to bed, and the blonde avox scampering off in terror again at the sight of my angry self. Anyway, Poppy is shaking me crazily, neon yellow hair sticking out in all directions, frizzy, as if she was a wild animal. I'm about to say something about it until I remember my hair at the parade.

"Hazel!" She roars yells, shaking my inner stuffing out. "Get up! You slept through your alarm!" I slowly sit up and blink, squinting at my clock on my bedside table. It reads 7:00 AM.

"Poppy, we still have an hour. My alarm was supposed to go off like fifteen minutes before, so we still have time." I comfort her. She knits her eyebrows and stares at the clock.

"Oh," She smiles. "Well, that's lucky the avox came to show me that you were still asleep." She blinks warily and then waltzes out of the room. I catch the blonde avox right outside the door, and give her a shaky thumbs-up. She smiles weakly, shutting the door and running off. I find my training outfit laid out for me in the walk-in closet. A pair of tight-fitting black yoga pants, a red and black tanktop labeled District Four. They've also bothered to complete my outfit with my precious necklace. There's a pair of high-quality, waterproof, brown boots that go halfway up my thigh. Good for running, and they look practically indestructible. I put the clothes on and do up my hair in a messy bun, like Adonis would've wanted me to.

Stringbean's in a matching outfit when I go into the dining/living room area, except he's wearing loose sweatpants that cover the boots instead of the tight yoga pants. I'm thankful he's not wearing pants like mine, actually. He surveys me as I walk over, red starting to rise on his cheeks in anger from last night.

"Hazel!" Poppy chirps, getting up from the long table. "You really should have some breakfast, dear! You'll need the energy for training!" She seems friendlier than normal, maybe because of the incident last night. I smile sweetly at my escort and politely grab a slice of toast, though I had no appetite whatsoever. Stringbean continues glaring at me as I nibble on the slice until I have the nerve to say something.

"Really, please stop," I say hesitantly. "Let it go,"

"'Let it go,'" Stringbean mimics in a sing-song voice. I ignore him, hoping I can keep peace for a while longer without going back to screaming at each other. I shoot him a nasty look as he continues to stare at me furiously.

"Okey-doke, you two!" Poppy shrills after a while, breaking the tense silence. "You should really be getting to the training center now. It's in the basement, okay?" She corralls us into the elevator and waves good-bye as the doors shut. Mediocre lounge music plays in the background as we descend in the elevator, though we don't speak a word the whole ride. When we do arrive in the basement, our jaws literally drop in amazement.

The training center's huge. It's about two times the size of our whole apartment, which is really saying something. There are various stations everywhere, including camoflage, plant identification, obstacle courses, climbing, and weapon ranges. I pick out a few I plan on visiting just in the couple minutes it takes for us to get down to the group of tributes surrounding a tall, dark-skinned athletic-looking woman. I find out later that her name is Atala, and she was the head trainer of the whole facility. I quickly spot Spade from District One, looking sly and dangerous, giving his whole attention to Atala eagerly. Naomi's back with the other kid from her District, whispering stuff to him. He looks tired of her constant yakking, and is lazily staring at Atala. The 18-year-old from District Three is shivering near the front, eyeing all the obvious threats in the gym with fright.