| A Twisted Fate ❀ Cato Hadley |

Training and Talking

 Chapter 4

Training and Talking

If only they knew how terrified I am.

I wake up at six o'clock in the morning, two hours earlier than I was originally supposed to. In spite of how comfortable and welcoming the bed was, I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to even get in a wink of sleep. I felt as if I had only gotten three hours, at most. On my way to the bathroom, I see an outfit already laid out on top of my dresser. I slip on the simple training outfit that was required for all tributes, and lace up the combat boots tightly. I quickly brush out my hair, which is in a tangled heap from my restless squirming in bed. I had the feeling 'sleep' was no longer going to be in my vocabulary.

After waiting three more hours for everyone else to wake up, I've already had breakfast and gotten ready. I'm not surprised when Cashmere encourages me to show off my skills while training.

"You must strike fear in them. Show them you're strong, and ruthless. Show them you're not afraid," She pauses, taking a sip of her chamomile tea from the dainty porcelain cup. "Though, even if you're not an expert at weaponry, you still have your looks to depend on for sponsors. No one could resist a face like yours." I hardly paid attention to what came out of her mouth, anymore. It was all nonsense, from day one. Yes, she was a victor. She was older and wiser, since she's experienced it firsthand. But, these Games are different. These are all different tributes, with entirely different strategies and ways of thinking. If I were to do what she tells me, I'd most likely get myself killed within the first couple of days. I was going to go by my own instincts.

Just as our conversation ends, so does Gloss and Marvel's. I hadn't considered having a closer bond with Marvel, only because I was well aware that our perspectives on this whole thing weren't similar in any way. He volunteered because he genuinely wanted to. He was ready. He wasn't scared.

A small part of me loathed him for that.

I wished to feel like him- like all of the other Careers that did this and were fearless about the chance of dying in the arena. I'm not sure they even think of death as an option. Well, for themselves. They could kill a stranger without any hesitation. In all reality, they did what guaranteed their own survival. It's every man for himself.

But, I'm always reminded that I'm only thinking logically. What could happen and what couldn't. They're all insane. Being trained to kill since a child. I'm not insane. I'm not like them. I have a family to get back to. Surviving doesn't mean I have to kill every tribute that comes into my view.

If someone attacks me, then I'll fight back. Simple as that. I'll only fight when I have to.

"What do you think so far?" I set my eyes onto Marvel, who's leisurely sitting back in his chair.

"About what?" I ask, flatly. I was too in a daze to even be functioning normally.

"The rest of the Careers. 2 and 4." He responds, shrugging slightly. He really wants my opinion on them? I stifle a laugh. If he only knew the half of it.

"2 seem like natural born killers. 4's alright. You know, we can't really assume just anything about them." I add the last part, not wanting to think of the young boy from District 4. The Careers showed no mercy, sadly. Marvel scoffs with amusement.

"You can tell a lot by first impressions, Rosalie. 2 will be good allies. The girl from 4- we'll just have to wait and see. But, the boy doesn't even stand a chance. Neither does the girl from 11."

I resisted the urge to knock his teeth out in that moment. My jaw clenched tightly and I grinded my teeth together, completely infuriated with him. I can no longer look at him, and I gaze blankly at the ivory tablecloth in front of me. None of us say anything else.

We head down to the Training Center ten minutes earlier than when it's supposed to begin. I'm more anxious than I've ever been before. I don't want to be a show off and give myself completely away. I want my skills to be a mystery to the others. Even if that includes hiding them from Marvel. I can't risk it. If they know my strengths, then surely they'll know my weaknesses just as easily.
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"In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead. One of you will be alive. Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next four days, particularly to what I'm about to say." I stand stiffly beside Marvel, listening to the head trainer, Atala, talk. I maintain my composure, despite all the shifting pairs of eyes that keep darting back onto me.

"First, no fighting with the other tributes. You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena." I notice the girl from District 2 smirk wickedly at that.

"There are four compulsory exercises. The rest will be individual training. My advice is, don't ignore the survival skills. Everybody wants to grab a sword, but most of you will die from natural causes. 10 percent from infection, 20 percent from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife."

I keep Atala's words in mind. There was truth to her statement. While some would be worrying about getting their throat sliced open, I tended to worry about dying due to lack of water, or something as simple as sleep. Marvel and District 2 seem to have some sort of meet up established already, so I don't bother with trying to stay within close range of them. Without any hesitation, I head over to the snare-setting station. It's currently empty, and looks like I'd have a decent chance at succeeding with it.
If I was good- or even okay with setting them, then I already have a plan B for getting food. I decide to take my time with setting the trap, wanting to get it right the first time. It turned out decent enough, and so did the second and the third. They weren't perfect, but that was okay.

Next up, the edible plants station. It was set up as something of a memory game. There was a big screen projected in front of a touchpad keyboard, where you'd have to identify the non-poisonous plants from the poisonous ones. I've learned more about them than I would have in school. That was sure to come in handy, no doubt. I left the station feeling satisfied, still memorizing a few of the vital ones in my mind.

I walk around the gym for a minute, studying the various stations that weren't too crowded. There was no way I'd be throwing knives or sword fighting anytime soon. I'll save that for tomorrow. Archery? Not likely. I've had zero experience with a bow, and the last thing I needed was to make a fool of myself. Ropes course?... I'm good at climbing. There were only a couple of tributes there, along with a couple of instructors. I make my way over to it with the bubbling feeling of excitement. Whenever I'd climb back in my academy's gym, there was rarely a time I ever fell or slipped. I found it ironic how I was afraid of heights, yet, I was capable of climbing the highest of things. I stepped into the line, waiting patiently for my turn.

The station had a large rope net that stretched across the ceiling of the gym, which at first appears to be easy to get across. It isn't, if you haven't had much experience with climbing areas such as that.

The District 8 boy went up before me, and so far he was doing fine with it. Another tribute steps into line, behind me, and I recognize him as the boy from District 11. He notices me glance at him, but he remains stoic. I flash a meager smile from the corner of my mouth, attempting to send the message that I wasn't like the other Careers. I didn't ponder myself as one, anyway. He doesn't return the gesture, though I wasn't expecting him to.

I return my attention back onto the District 8 boy, who in the midst of climbing, now seems to be having difficulty progressing. One of his hands slip from the rope, and in the blink of an eye, he's crashing down to the floor. He lands with a 'THUD,' quickly grasping at his ankle in pain. I don't look at him for any longer, not wanting to risk anymore embarrassment that the poor boy could already be feeling.

"You're up, 1." The trainer's deep voice orders, and I obediently step forward, tilting my head to each side, just to warm myself up a bit.

"Whenever you're ready." I nod quickly, and extend my arms out for the ropes.

I make sure to get a good grip onto the scratchy ropes, before swinging my legs out from underneath me. I reach my left hand in front of me, grabbing onto another part of the net. I continue to throw my hands forward, and clinging onto different areas of the rope. Soon enough, I'm hopping back down onto the solid platform. Easy. I think to myself, containing the pleased grin that began creeping across my lips.

"Jason, where's my knife, huh?" The threatening boy from District 2's voice booms throughout the room.

"I didn't touch your knife." Another boy, the one from 6, defends himself.

"I put my knife right there!" 2 accuses, again.

"I didn't touch your knife!" 6 barks back.

"Yes, you took my knife!" 2 lunges forward, and it's about to get physical. Peacekeepers rush to the scene, pulling apart the tributes from injuring each other.

"I didn't touch your kni-" 6 firmly starts, only to rudely be interrupted.

"You took my knife, you liar! You little punk! You took my knife!" 2's shouting persists, and he struggles against the hold of the guards. I told myself I wouldn't be afraid of anyone. But, I can't help the growing terror inside me that's only triggered by him.

When I look over toward 11, there's a glad smile formed on his mouth. He's glancing upward, laughing slightly at something I'm not sure of. I follow his gaze, and now I know why he's laughing; the little girl from 11, his district partner, is twirling a knife in hand, while taking refuge above the center of the net.

Atala blows her whistle twice, ordering for the feuding tributes to get back to training. But, not before 2 has to get the last word in.

"You don't know who you're messing with, kid!" He growls, even sending a chill down my spine. I tear my eyes away from him, and focus on getting through the rest of the day without getting into any trouble. I practice making a few fires, which I already know I won't be doing in the arena. I wouldn't make such a careless mistake like that, especially when I'll be ditching the Careers as soon as the Games begin. I'm only doing it to keep me looking busy. I don't want to try out any weaponry.. At least, not for now.

The clock strikes noon pretty quickly, and a buzzer goes off, queuing that it's time for lunch. All of the tributes are herded into the cafeteria, which is right next door to the Training Center. There are only a few tables sprawled around the place, and I'm guessing most of them would be occupied with individual tributes. As sad as it is, none of us can really trust each other. We're all just strangers being thrown into a cage to fight to the death.
I take the lunch tray that is handed to me, briefly observing the food that lies over it. There's a simple deli-made sandwich wrapped in a plastic sealing, an apple, and a bottle of water. I'm walking close behind Marvel, who's leading us toward the Career-filled table. I allow Marvel to be the one to greet them, sitting down silently beside him at the edge of the bench. The District 2 girl sits across from me, while the boy sits opposite from Marvel. The two of them start discussing whether or not to let the girl from District 4 join. I feel so guilty that I had to hear that, and know that they were going to leave the young boy on his own. He didn't look anything like my brother, and yet, I was still reminded of Leo. I can't bear the thought of twelve year olds having to endure this. It's madness.

I direct my eyes toward the girl in front of me, realizing that she was staring right back at me. If looks could kill.

"Clove." She states, her voice startlingly quiet, but demanding.

"Huh?" I answer, dumbly.

"That's my name. Clove. You have one?" She says again, and I can't help but to straighten my posture and pretend like I wasn't just gazing off into space.

"Oh, right. Rosalie." District 2 was mainly focused on Panem's military, so it's not shocking to see how well-disciplined and mature she's acting. It's hard to believe we're the same age. I've also seen her skills with throwing knives. She didn't miss a target. Not once.

"Did your parents like flowers that much?" She's no longer quiet, but a little louder and more snarky.

"Maybe." I snap, before I can stop myself. Well, there goes staying out of trouble.

Weirdly enough, Clove looks like she's pleased with that. Was that some sort of test?

"Ah, so she does talk." This time, it's the boy.

I'm now looking over at him, almost surprised that he heard us. I was convinced that him and Marvel were too caught up in their own conversation, but I guess not. I force a quiet, breathy laugh, while nodding my head quite awkwardly. I couldn't show any disrespect to any of them, even if they did tug on my nerves. I had to trick them into thinking I was on their side- that way they can't plan how to kill me so early on.

"I was starting to think you were a mute or something." A devious smirk plays over his mouth, and instead of getting profoundly offended (Which I probably should've done,) but the feeling of indignation was far too powerful to be ignored.

"Well, I'm not. So, now you know." I reply, holding my head high and keeping my tone stoic. Don't break eye contact. His blue eyes bore icily back into mine, unafraid or shocked at all. He's like a machine. Programmed to feel nothing, but incredibly destructible.

"Yes, I do." He agrees cockily, still staring at me.

Marvel lets out a husky, light-hearted laugh, before cutting through the tension.

"Alright, you two, come on. Lunch is almost over, let's not waste our time." Nothing could even describe how thankful I was for Marvel interrupting that odd moment. We may not be the closest of friends, but I was starting to feel like we actually weren't complete strangers anymore.

The two boys resume to talk about what strategy they would use in the arena, who would die first and who wouldn't, and what to grab in the Cornucopia. They went on about it so naturally... As if planning the other tributes murders were normal. Clove cut in once, mentioning the girl from District 12 and a knife. I tried blurring out whatever else she'd say. I didn't want to spend my lunchtime hearing about slitting throats, or slicing limbs off.
I was just about ready to barge away from the table, when the familiar buzzer sounds, again. Oh, thank you God. I eagerly grab my tray, being the first to flee the table and dispose of my garbage. All of the tributes reenter the Training Center, and this time, everyone is at a different station than before. I try out hammock making, and tying knots, until the training is declared over for the day.

I head back into the elevator with Marvel, and into our apartment. Since our arrival yesterday, it seems like we've already got a routine down. Gloss has his ten minute chat with Marvel, as I do with Cashmere. I've just noticed the recent tendency I had with calling her Cash. I take my shower, and change out of the uniform. By the time I'm done, the time Is nearing 6:30, meaning dinner. I walk out into the dining room, and everyone is still settling into their places. I automatically walk over to where Marvel is seated, and pull out the chair beside his. Talk about Deja Vu.

It all feels so... Unauthentic. Like this was too perfect. Ruby and Kala exchange the latest gossip about the Games. Making assumptions of what the arena would be this year, and so on. Atlas and Cashmere are discussing what he was planning on having me wear for the upcoming tribute interviews. Gloss is having a casual talk with Valora, which doesn't really surprise me. I wonder why she's always so serious, though.
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10:36. I wanted to scream. Time was passing by tediously. Which was strange, considering it was the opposite, last night. It wasn't helping that I was having an irritating case of insomnia. I've been laying in bed for an hour now. I've tossed and turned the whole time. I've tried laying on my side, on my back, with the blanket and without the blanket. I couldn't go to sleep even if my life depended on it.. Which had some truth to it. I flip off the covers, and sit up in the large bed. I glance around the bedroom, which is dark and mostly empty.

I'm alone.

The urge to cry was painfully tempting. I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared. I was scared out of my mind. And there was always the fear that I wouldn't be able to survive. There were so many things to worry about. Was I strong enough? Was I smart enough? Was I fast enough? Those were the type of questions that lingered in the back of my mind from day to day. But, I didn't have a choice to give up. I had to get home. I had to live, and I had to see my siblings grow up. I can't just abandon them like that. They're just kids. I can't let them lose me, too.
I get out of bed, an slip my feet into a pair of warm slippers. I carefully open my door, peeking out to see if anyone was still awake. The living room and rest of the apartment was dark, so I assumed that it was safe to go outside. I notice the transparent doors leading out onto a balcony, which every tribute had in their living space. Some fresh air could do me good. I haven't been outside in a couple of days, now. I walk outside, closing the door halfway behind me. I see that there's still a wild, roaring crowd of photographers below the apartments. As I'm about to take a seat on the floor, my eyes nearly bulge from their sockets, at the sight of Marvel sitting against the wall.

"Marvel? What are you doing out here?" I ask him, keeping my voice hushed.

"I could ask you the same thing." He responds, a languid smile slipping across his lips. I cross my arms, unsure of what else to do.

"Sorry, um, I'll just go back to bed-" I say, but he quickly stops me from leaving.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind. It was getting pretty lonely, anyway." When I turn to look back at him, he's staring back at me, this time imploringly. He wants me to stay.

I spin around, and sit down across from him, hugging my legs close to my chest. I rest my head back against the wall, and let myself enjoy the cooling breeze that swiftly blows by. I don't expect us to sit in silence for much longer, and his next sentence establishes it.

"What brings you out here so late?" He questions casually, and I'm actually quite relieved to talk to someone.

"I can't sleep... How about you?" I return the question onto him. A part of me was genuinely interested, though.

"Same. I think the excitement of it all is finally catching up." He tells me, tilting his head to the side.

"I wouldn't call it excitement. Could be angst, or trepidation." I state, using the first words that come to mind. A feeling of deep anxiety or dread.

"That could be it, too." He laughs sleepily.

It wasn't meant to be a joke, but I guess it was to him. I didn't think of myself as being one to have a 'dark' sense of humor, but I laugh with him. It felt nice. Even if it wasn't one of those cheerful, loud, guffaw type of laughs. It was like taking your first breath after being under water for so long. I do wish the feeling would've lasted awhile longer, but not with the intense silence now dawning on us. It was time to be serious again, and live in this harsh reality.

"Can you believe we'll be in the arena, only three days from now?"

I don't want to realize that. Marvel suddenly seems so caught up with his one sentence, that he's gazing, deadpan to the side of the balcony. Marvel, to me, didn't seem like the type of person to be this way... He didn't come off as real. Until now, that is. What if it was all just a cover up? The whole mindset of a killer, planning out other children's deaths and staying completely merciless. I see him now. He's just another kid. Like the rest of us. Like me.
I'm curious to how I haven't seen him around at school, or in the gym. He must've had a different schedule from me. He probably had a bigger social circle than me, also. I no longer see him as being the same cruel, deathly tribute that could so easily chuck a spear into someone's head. For a second, he's normal. I'm normal. We don't have to kill each other.

Only for a second.

"I can believe it." Marvel snaps out of his gaze, nearly thrown off guard at my reply.

"Well.. How about your family? Got any friends waiting back home?" He changes the subject, and does a darn well job at it. I contemplate whether or not I should tell him anything personal- then again, there's a slim chance that we'll ever have to see one another again, so I tell him.

"I don't have much friends... I do have a brother and sister. They're both twelve. Leo and Sparkle. My mother works as a jeweler at a boutique. My father, he... Died, when I was twelve."

"Wasn't your brother in the 71st Games?" His question shocks me. I don't know what to say.

My stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought of both him and my father. Marvel must notice how stiff I've gotten, because he immediately looks guilty, afterward.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect." His eyes are glues to the ground, almost shamefully. He has a heart.

"No, it's alright... What's your family like?" It's my turn to change the subject.

He explains everything, willingly. He has about five friends, with whom he trained with almost everyday after school. His mother is a hair stylist, while is father is a furrier. He has two little sisters. Sophia, who's eleven, and Dalia, who's thirteen. I picture them in my mind as looking exactly like him; tamed light brown hair, and sapphire blue eyes. My heart ached at the thought of them. He has a family, too.

Our conversation lasts for another twenty minutes, but it feels like an eternity. A content one, at that. We don't bring up the games, the interviews, or the tributes. Not even training, tomorrow. We just talk. For these last twenty minutes, we're normal teenagers. We're not worrying about anything. I can be at peace, just for now.