#tbptraining2

Meredith held her breath even before she stepped into the clear water. She did have a swimming pool at home, being one of the richer residents, but she never swam in it because the Hatter told her not to. The water scared her, The Dodo urged her to get in, “Alice it might be in the arena - you need to learn how to swim.”

I figured a little more weapon training couldn’t hurt (ba-dum-psh) and made my way over to the knives station. Before the bow I think that was the first weapon I ever had, Mom wasn’t too happy with Marathon giving me a small one for my birthday on year, but I guess in the long run it was a smart move. 

I wanted to split my time between practicing throwing and hand-to-hand. My throwing was elementary, close combat I was decent. I had only wished Marathon had the opportunity to help me perfect disarms.

I grabbed a belt of knives and moved over to the stationary targets, getting used to the weight of Capitol grade throwing knives. These were nothing like the ones I had back home. My shots were scattered, some in the center mass, some high and low, others missing.  My next one embedded itself in the upper arm of the target.

And before I could grab another knife, one flew past my ear and sunk itself right between the eyes of the target.

I knew I wasn’t the most well known person around the training center. Some people were hovering like bees and jumping from station to station like chimpanzees, talking with absolutely everyone. I loved people and got energy from being around them, but I also valued being alone with my thoughts.

The day was passing by too slowly but at the same time, too quickly because with each second, it was getting closer and closer until we all enter the Arena.  Still wanting to work on a few more survival skills, I headed to the obstacle course, particularly the climbing wall.  I was always an energetic kid and I loved to climb things (and then free fall off them), so this seemed like a nice place to go to for a bit.

When I got there, the trainer strapped me into the harnesses and some chalk for my fingers.  As she gave me the run-down of the course, another tribute arrived.  After the debrief, the trainer asked me if I had any questions before turning to help the new visitor.  I turned and saw the really pretty girl from Four.  I smiled before turning back to my harness to adjust the comfortability of the straps.  “You can belay her,” I said to the trainer.  “I’ll use the automatic one,” I added, noticing that there was that option in case there weren’t enough people to spot the climbers.

Joan wanted to scream by the time afternoon had rolled around. She had already eaten lunch, managed a twenty minute nap in her room, and taken a shower to wake herself up. She felt like her emotions were going to boil over, like she was going to actually start a fight before she even set foot into the arena. Like a caged animal, she was volatile and unpredictable. But still wore a smile and a laugh.

She made her way back down to the training room, her hair still damp and clinging to her neck from the shower. Her eyes were red from, well, crying, but she tried to hold her head up so they were less noticeable. She didn’t want to be seen as weak, as the girl who got sick on stage. But she didn’t want to be seen as the Career from Four, either. She wanted to be seen as Joan, happy and caring and not-completely-wired-by-the-Games-Joan.

Good luck with that, she thought bitterly and passed the stations she’d already fiddled around with. She saw the bows and arrows at the archery station, knowing she didn’t need any more practice with the familiar weapon. She walked past the swords and axes, figuring that another session of swinging a blade around wouldn’t help her improve upon a skill she’d practiced her hole life already. She passed the knots and traps station and groaned out loud, not wanting to visit there again, but knowing that she would have to make her third stop there eventually to study the techniques. She was just bad with rope. Funny, as a tribute from Four.

Her arms felt like they were on fire, the building anger and rage and emotion and frustration from the Games focused in her fists. She walked upon mats, straight into the martial arts and melee area, feeling the cushions under her feet. She had tunnel vision, biting her lip as she focused on the object she was walking towards. A hanging punching bag was attached tot he ceiling, and upon approaching it, she whacked it feebly with the side of her hand, and then again a bit harder. She hesitated through her one-track thoughts, realizing she needed to bind her hands before she started assaulting a rock-hard punching bag. Best she not head into the arena with a sprained or broken wrist.

Joan took a strip of thick, fighting-fabric and started wrapping her hands around and around. She paced as she wrapped in between fingers and around knuckles, focusing more on the back of her hand than where she was going - which is why she bumped right into a boy standing on a mat, stepping on his foot on accident.

Each station proved to help her in the games one way or another. Without a second thought, Meredith walked over to the nearest station: archery. The Hatter joined her and even the Cheshire Cat, both talked to her and told her how to hold the bow. 

“Welp.  There might be some water in this arena.”  I mumble to myself as I head over to the pool.  The only experience I have with swimming is treading water, but I didn’t want my noob-ness to be the cause of my death.  

As I approached, I wasn’t too surprised to find a discarded District 4 uniform at the side of the pool.  Guess they couldn’t stand being away from the water for that long.  But it wasn’t Joan at the station with me, rather her district partner whom I hadn’t met before.  

Climbing was really inconvenient and frankly it would be rude if I had to use such exertion in the arena, but it was always a possibility and I’d rather not take that chance.