Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

3. Bodey

The next morning, as I made my way to the training arena, I was instantly greeted by the boy from District Ten. His name was Macon Wells, and he was not at all what he appeared to be. I’d seen his reaping and had noticed his presence during the chariot rides; at first glance, he appeared to be career-pack material. He was athletic, well muscled, and seemed at ease. I figured he’d be another arrogant tribute I’d have to look out for.

I’d judged him wrong. He’d approached me slowly, with a reassuring smile and warm eyes that reminded me of someone. Without beating around the bush, he’d proposed an alliance. A part of me wanted to be suspicious, to not trust him and be leery of his words. However, the more I watched and listened to his words; the more I knew who he reminded me of; my eldest, and most beloved brother, Beau.

It was in his gaze, in his motions, his general aura; he was calm, confident, kind, and selfless. Though in appearance Beau and Macon were polar opposites, personality-wise, they were near identical replicas. Without further thought, I agreed to his alliance. Then together we went and made another addition; my little friend from before, the young boy named Mipe Smalls, who I later learned liked to be called just “Smalls”.

I knew right away that I wanted to actually contribute to our uneven alliance; I couldn’t let Macon do all the grunt work. I’d felt incredibly guilty when, earlier that first day, I’d seen Macon have a close confrontation with the career from two; Flint Stopher. He’d gotten in Flint’s way as he’d started to approach us. I couldn’t hear every word they’d said, but I’d gotten the general topic; us, Smalls and I, were bloodbath tributes, easy kills, and he wanted Macon to stay out of the way.

The first day Smalls and I busied ourselves learning how to camouflage ourselves to our surroundings. Then on the second day, I found out I had a pretty decent hand with a slingshot I’d found. True, it wasn’t necessarily a deadly weapon, but it was better than nothing. It got even better when I realized I could put sharp objects in it to create more damage.

The third day of training was only a half day, after lunch we were each called out by district number, and were then told to perform for the panel of Gamemakers. When it was finally my turn to show them my special talent, I was so nervous I thought I’d throw up in front of them. I gulped various times and announced myself in a shaky voice. Then I picked up the slingshot I’d been practicing with and proceeded to shoot little rocks at the target before me.

I knew I wasn’t impressing anyone, so before my time ran out, I thought of a great idea. Instead of reaching for another rock, I walked up to the daggers section. I picked up a pack of smaller knives and then returned to my dummy. Feeling somewhat more confident, I proceeded to wedge the little dagger onto my sling and then shoot the mannequin.

It had the effect I wanted; a couple of the gamemakers that had continued to watch me nodded in approval. I smiled and shot a couple more darts at the target then, when my time was up, I bowed and returned to my room. I awaited the scores with anticipation and could barely sit still when the show started.

Smalls ended up getting a four, which I thought was pretty good considering we’d both had absolutely no knowledge of weapons before the training days. Lyra, my district partner, had done as well as I’d assumed, scoring a solid nine. I held my breath when my name appeared, then I broke out into a silly smile; I’d gotten a five.

My mentors gave me a look that clearly said they thought I was delusional. A five was nothing to be happy about in their books, but to me, it was a little spark of hope. My optimism grew even further when Macon’s name appeared; he’d scored a nine and apparently had a very popular fan-base in the Capitol. We’d be fine.

Still riding my euphoric emotions, I happily let my stylists dress me. The interviews with Ceasar would be another vital point in these games. Sometimes, even if you’d gotten a poor score in training, the interviews were enough to even out your odds. I’d never considered myself charming or charismatic, but I was willing to try anything.