Harper
The train ride was something else. He had never eaten so much in his life. He knew the other girl tribute, but not very well. He knew that she didn't have any parents, at least that was what he thought, and that she was just as good a swimmer as he. Also good with spears. But he didn't talk to her much. Too busy stuffing his face.
His mentor was a middle-aged woman named Mags. She had won one of the first few Hunger Games, and although a bit....strange....she seemed to know what she was talking about. Her hook making skills were definitely not to be laughed at.
He managed to forget that he was going to a match where he'd be killed, talking about it with his mentor hypothetically. Now, as he entered the training room, it began to hit him how real this was.
The other tributes looked....how should he say this...a hell of a lot more ready than him. He knew his district had schools where they trained you to be top-notch tribute material. Harper never had any interest for it. Competition was annoying. Suddenly, he realized that after he had been picked, no one volunteered....huh. Guess he was really as annoying and useless as his father typically said he was.
Still, his father had given him some potentially life-saving advice. It wouldn't do to be mad at him. He stood up straight and tried not to look like such a pathetic weakling. Still, the sight of the tall muscled guy boxing a punching bag to bits wasn't helping.
He decided to go to the knots section. This, at least, he knew how to do. He had never picked up a sword, or strung an arrow before. The thought of doing so on a person made him a bit sick. This was really not what he was cut out for. Mags had advised that he not show off too much, since the element of surprise could save your life. Being surrounded by these A-type personalities just made him shrink away, no desire at all to pull a "hey, look what I can do!" He quietly made his knots, not really listening to the instructor. Please, he thought, [i]I've been making fishing nets since I was three. Not the best in my district, but not bad either.[i]
What he was really trying to listen to was the group of tributes that had gathered by the big guy. There was a blonde and a brunette girl there. The blonde one did most of the talking. She looked...unsavory. Something about her made Harper dislike her already. Were they making alliances already? The Careers, probably. He figured he didn't even need to worry about them trying to recruit him. He wasn't exactly that type of material.
Lissy
Ugh. This Griff guy is going to get on my nerves.
Sure. He was handsome. I guess. Maybe for some people. I had seen him around before, and a couple of my girl friends (of which I didn't have very many) would oggle him whenever he walked by. But now that I was here, up close to him, I realized that was the only good thing about him. The whole train ride, he wouldn't shut up about fashion. He didn't seem to like me too much. I can't really blame him. I wear whatever the hell I want, fashionable or not. He nearly died of excitement when we reached the Capitol.
I was homesick. I missed my family, the whole rambunctious lot. It was rare to have such a normal family. At least, that was what I thought. That we were normal. Both parents. Plenty of siblings. An unbelievable streak of luck. Of course, it had to end with me.
Well, maybe this was actually a good thing. Maybe it was one of those fate things Mom always talked about, that good things were still waiting for me. Perhaps I'd win this? It was a stretch, both to say this was a good thing and to think I could win it. I was so small. Too small. And one of the youngest. I had seen the tapes of the other tributes. Most of them were older than 15. Griff was 17. There was one girl, the one from District 12, that was younger than me. 12, from 12. She was almost as small as I was, maybe even smaller. I felt sorry for her. She was sure to be singled out. There were about two other people my age, one from also from 12, and the other a small guy from 1 (which frankly surprised me), and one 14 year old girl from 10. I might have missed some, but those were the ones that stuck out. Everyone else was older. So, what, that was five people, out of 24, younger than everyone else. It was disheartening to say the least.
By the time I got to training, it was bustling with people. I recognized most of them from their tapes. There was that big guy from 2. I think everyone remembered him. The devious looking girl from 1 who volunteered. The boy from 4 who took forever to realize he had been picked. The small guy from 1, who the girl seemed to be avoiding. The other girl from 2. And many, many others.
It looked like the Careers were already forming. I didn't doubt the girl from 1 for going to the big guy. He'd be a powerful asset. I involuntarily imagined myself as the punching bag he was hitting, and the result wasn't pretty. I liked to think, though, that it would take a lot of punches to take me down.
I didn't want to reveal my stamina here, since that was my real advantage. My mentor had agreed as well. Griff knew about it, I think. Knew of it. He seemed in love with the idea that the Capitol would find him so gorgeous that sponsors would come flocking to him, providing for him. I thought he was dreaming, but whatever. If he died when reality hit, it'd be one last person I might have to face or kill.
I went to the 'various weapons' area. Apparently, slingshots weren't a popular choice for the games. I picked out a sling. I didn't want to show off, but I didn't want to be ignored either. I wanted everyone to think twice before underestimating me. I knew my appearance was a huge disadvantage. I mean, come on, I look like a China doll. And not in a good way.
I picked a target, and effortlessly slung the rock. It hit squarely, almost lodging itself. It did leave a dent, which I was happy about. I grinned, and continued slinging, hitting the targets every time.