Chapter Text
Precision. Endurance. Adaptability. Three skills many victors of the Hunger Games possessed.
Many tell you those were the keys to success—even the victors who won from sheer, dumb luck. You could be able to adapt to your surroundings quickly, but if you didn't have the endurance for it, would it even really matter?
District 4 made sure that they trained their young children under those principles. From age ten, even before the district children are eligible to be reaped, they could enroll at The Academy, a training center hidden among a small island called The Fry, where they trained to develop their survival skills.
Technically, it was illegal. However, the Capitol didn’t seem to care. Not when some of their favorite victors were native to the district.
Every Third of July, the Academy required that all of its students between the ages of fifteen and eighteen undergo the mandatory Testing, a six-hour-long training session where you showcased your knowledge and strength in front of several judges. The judges reward points under the precision, endurance, and adaptability categories.
The highest-ranking boy and girl move on to volunteer at reaping.
Ivy Bellgaze had heard Maximilian Norman, a short man who could drain the life force out of any room he walked in, explain the testing rules multiple times. Maximilian’s speech was more dispassionate each year, his words delivered with a monotone indifference that made Ivy believe he would rather be anywhere else.
Only when he started speaking about how much of an honor it was to fight for your district, to not be disheartened if you did not get chosen because there was “always next year”, did his tone finally burst with any sort of excitement (whether it was excitement over the prospect of the Hunger Games or that he could finally close his mouth, Ivy did not know).
“When you have completed all of your tests, you may leave, but you must be back by eighteen o’clock for the tribute announcement. Now, go to your assigned number and be gone.”
Maximillian hurried away from the group before anyone even had the time to check their numbers.
Ivy looked down at the piece of paper she was given when she walked into the gymnasium. Station Ten, it read, causing her to frown.
The Academy was once an old fishing warehouse. Not long after the Hunger Games began, it had been repurposed into a gymnasium to help train the district’s youth for the death arena. Metal poles, remnants of the building’s original purpose, divided the training stations; each one was dedicated to a different survival or combat skill. In the furthest back corner, by far everyone’s favorite station, was Trident-wielding (or, as Ivy’s friend Yenna liked to call it, “The Odair effect”). The volunteers did a good job transforming the place, but the smell of fish still flooded Ivy’s nostrils from time to time.
Station Ten was the spear-throwing station, arguably the worst start to the testing Ivy could have gotten. It wasn’t that she couldn’t wield a spear. She was the daughter of a fisherman and had practically grown up in water, but striking a fish’s flesh with a spearhead had to be a very different skill than throwing it into the heart of a human.
Not once, in Ivy’s years of training, had she ever managed to get the spear to land on the yellow circle of the target. It was the same for tridents and knives—it wasn’t due to poor technique but bad coordination.
Making her way over to Station Ten, the frown had not fallen off Ivy’s face. Her mind was already ten steps ahead, picturing all the different outcomes. They all ended the same way: a crowd laughing at her.
She wished she didn’t care so much about what other people thought, but she had been training alongside most of them for years. They had the same skill set that she was lacking. She found it hard not to care.
“I don’t know which one is worse, Maximilian’s speech or Hydra’s.”
Ivy’s frown slowly reshaped into a grin as her best friend Hade threw his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him instinctively, the anxiety loosening from her shoulders. “Hydra’s. At least Maximilian doesn’t pretend this is exciting,” she said.
Hydra Lowcreek, the blue-haired forewarning of death, showed up every July from the Capitol, sentenced two children to death, and then repeated the cycle the next year.
At least Maximilian’s speech wasn’t ever associated with unease. If anything, it made Ivy more motivated to do well.
But she had never, and would never, want to be in the games. They had already taken too much from her family.
“What? You don’t find this,” Hade’s voice came out gentle, with a bit of a mischievous tone. He gestured to the front of the line the duo had joined. Up front, a girl screamed as she threw the spear at the target. She missed the yellow circle so slightly that even Ivy felt some of her frustration, “exciting?” Hade finished.
“None of this is exciting, just necessity,” Ivy replied, matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, but I can’t complain about having to watch Alfie Powell with a spear.” Ivy looked in the same direction as Hade. A boy that she had sparred with a few times grabbed a spear from the rack and threw it.
The boy missed by an inch. Ivy glanced back at Hade, who had stopped walking. His mouth was agape as his eyes followed Alfie’s arm movements. Ivy let out a soft laugh and pulled him toward Station Ten.
The two fell into silence, moving up in line as their classmates completed the station. One girl managed to throw the spear into the very center of the target, earning her a round of applause and a proud grin from the instructor.
Hade nudged Ivy’s side. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” Ivy looked at him, suddenly aware of the movements on her face. She must’ve been wearing an expression she hadn’t noticed.
“Your nose is doing that thing it does when you’re thinking too hard.”
“Oh,” Ivy said simply. She had been doing that.
“Ives,” Hade placed his hands on Ivy’s shoulders and turned her towards him. “Don’t overthink it. You’re strong and a better fighter than you think.”
“Yeah, but not with…” Ivy gestured to the station right in front of them, “this.” She may not have wanted to be in the Hunger Games, but she could never allow herself to do badly on a test. One time, when Ivy was in school, she had scored a low percentage on a test she had studied the entire night for. She came home upset, and her dad said that her intelligence and skill did not dissipate just because she failed a test, and failing it would not dictate the rest of her life.
However, if you were reaped for the Hunger Games and earned a poor training score, it could mean your death in the arena.
Ivy wished she didn’t live in a world where rich people craved power. They craved it so much that they punished the group of people who tried to stand up against their dictatorship. They had caused children to ruin their whole childhood by looming the possibility of death over their heads.
Of course, you could not speak like that in District 4. In District 4, the idea of fighting in the games and honoring your district was supposed to be exciting.
Hade’s grip on Ivy’s shoulders tightened. “Listen to me, being trained in armed combat doesn’t make you strong, just like it doesn’t make you weak if you aren’t. I know most people in here might look down on that, so would the Capitol if you didn’t fight and kill in the games, but you know what you have that they don’t?”
“Hade, I love you, but if you’re about to say yourse-”
“I wasn’t going to.” A cocky smile appeared on his face. “I am pretty great, but I was going to say you have a strong brain. That will be your greatest strength.”
“Did you get that from a book?” Ivy joked, but it did make her feel better.
“No, you. You know I don’t read.”
"Next!" the instructor called. Ivy and Hade stood side by side, but before Hade could react, Ivy grabbed him and nudged him forward. "You're up first," she insisted.
Hade strode forward. There was a confidence that radiated off him as he grabbed hold of the spear, the type that only forms after years of practice. He drew his arm back, muscles tensing, and threw the spear at its target. Ivy’s heart raced as she followed its path, and a thrill shot through her when the spearhead landed in the center of the bullseye. She never once questioned Hade’s flawless precision.
A few people in line clapped. The instructor gave him an impressed smile and jotted down Hade’s score. There was no doubt in Ivy’s mind that he didn’t earn full points.
Hade bowed dramatically, clearly enjoying all the attention. “Thank you, thank you.” The instructor dismissed him to the next station, but he made sure to give Ivy an enthusiastic thumbs-up. ‘You got this,’ he mouthed.
Ivy’s heart hammered as she walked toward the start line. A burning sensation lingered in the back of her throat as she told the instructor her name. The weight of her anxiety was evident as she headed to the spear rack. Every step she took felt like it was a challenge, as if there were weights stacked on top of her shoes.
She picked up the spear, feeling the weight of it. The texture was surprisingly smooth, making Ivy relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with splinters later. It was almost perfectly balanced, with just a slight lean toward the spearhead.
She lifted the spear above her, trying to ignore the doubt that was still buzzing in the back of her mind.
Precision, something that is all about calculation and accuracy.
She miscalculated, throwing the spear just a second too early. She hadn’t aimed correctly. Not in the slightest.
There was a long silence when the spearhead flew into the wall.
Not everyone can be good at everything, Ivy thought, and dared a glance at the instructor. The instructor’s lips were formed into a displeased line.
Ivy clenched her fists together and awkwardly swung her arms back and forth. “I’m sorry.” The instructor just shook their head and looked back down at their clipboard, no doubt giving Ivy a zero.
Endurance, something that is all about willpower and tolerance.
Ivy was finally in her element. The breeze of the wind hitting her face as she ran, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. This was what made her feel safest and at home.
Her dad always told her she had a knack for speed. The stories he had about her running off were endless. “One time, you were chasing a storm. Another time you were running away from a swarm of bees,” her dad told her. Ivy did not remember most of them, but the trait had never left her either.
She was on her last endurance test of the day. The other two consisted of exercise and climbing. Ivy had been no good at either of those (Hade had been, of course, and Ivy knew he would be bragging about it the rest of the day), but her speed levels had never been topped during her seven years at The Academy. Annie Cresta was the only one who had ever come close, but when she won her games two years ago, she never set foot on The Fry again. Ivy couldn’t blame her.
Ivy was meters away from the end of her test. As much as she loved to run, after trudging through the uphill wooden area of the island and the deep sand of the beach, she couldn’t say she wasn’t eager. Her thighs were burning, and she was in desperate need of water, but she wasn’t ready to give up.
She was the first one to make it back to the starting line. She immediately sat down, heaving from exhaustion. It did not help that it was also hot outside.
Hade practically leaped over the line. Ivy could tell he wanted to be graceful about it—but instead of landing on his feet, he fell on his face.
“Ten points for dramatics, Mr. Luna,” the instructor joked.
Hade gave them a thumbs-up and started to stand up. His entire front was covered in sand, causing Ivy to let out a loud laugh. “You look like a sand monster.”
“You know,” Hade stumbled. “That’s not the first time someone’s called me that.” He fell back into the sand.
Adaptability, something that is all about being flexible in different conditions.
Ivy walked back into the gymnasium, her brain still reeling from her adaptability test. The instructor asked her a series of questions, wondering what she would do in certain situations. She took some of the questions too literally, asking specific questions about some of the scenarios they gave her. The simple one-sentence was not enough for Ivy. She needed to know all the details. Luckily enough, she had a nice instructor. It reminded her of how interviews were conducted down at the dockside.
Then, she was led back to the wooden area of The Fry, where they handed her a singular rope and told her to show them what she would do with it if it were the only thing she had in the arena. She used it to rig logs and branches together, creating a makeshift shelter. The instructors had seemed impressed, but it was just something Ivy had seen done in a previous Hunger Games.
Ivy was heading back to the washroom, ready to help her dad at their fishery, when the glint of a trident caught her eye.
She turned to her side, realizing she had been passing trident-wielding. She couldn’t see much over the crowd of people standing in front of the station, except for two different sets of prongs connecting.
So they’re having people spar now? That’s new. Ivy hadn’t had to do any sparring when she was at that station. They just made her toss and turn the trident a few times. It had gone better than the spearing station, at least.
Ivy stood up on her toes, trying to see if she could see anything. It was useless. The only thing she could make out was the dark hair of the two people sparring.
She began to push her way through the crowd. Her shoulders immediately began aching as a couple of people shoulder-checked her. She mumbled apologies as her ears zoned in on the clanking of the tridents, and the ‘ohs’ and ‘aws’ and ‘oofs’ of the crowd.
The sound of someone collapsing on a mat echoed through the air. Someone whistled and yelled something incomprehensible. The crowd made disappointed sounds and began to disband.
Ivy could finally see who was fighting. A girl she recognized was pointing the trident downwards. Ivy couldn’t remember her name, other than she could move like a snake and wore counterfeit claws on her fingers. If Ivy had to guess, the girl was definitely in the running to be this year’s female tribute.
Ivy’s friend Yenna was sprawled out on the floor, not flinching despite the fact the other girl was waving a trident in her face. Yenna always had a knack for starting fights. It wouldn’t have surprised Ivy if the fight had been an… ungraded predicament.
Maximilian Norman’s voice boomed throughout the small space. “I told you two to stop!” He pulled the girl with the claws away from Yenna.
“She started it!” she accused, a finger pointed at her opponent.
Yenna was smiling like a lunatic, clearly enjoying the rise she was getting out of this girl. Her lips formed like she was going to say some witty retort, but whatever she was going to say, Maximilian spoke first.
“That doesn’t mean you had to finish it.” He pointed towards the washroom. “Your testing finished an hour ago, Miss. Rivershore. There is no reason for you to still be lingering here.”
Huffing, the girl aggressively set the trident against the wall and stormed off.
Maximilian looked exhausted as he ran a hand through his beard. “And someone please take Miss. Stone to Mrs. Yamamoto.”
Ivy only then realized Yenna’s left arm was lying in a pool of dark-colored substance. There was a giant gash on her arm that was oozing blood, turning the dark blue mat she was on top of into an ugly shade of purple. From how fresh it looked, Yenna must have gotten it right before falling to the ground.
Ivy shoved past the people who had stayed to gawk at Yenna’s arm and kneeled next to her. “I’ll take her.”
Maximillian waved the two off, shaking his head as he walked away, muttering words along the lines of ‘these damn kids,’ and ‘games.’
“Ow,” Yenna groaned and sat up. She looked down at her arm and winced. “That doesn’t look so good.”
“It could look a lot worse,” Ivy stated, because it could. She stood up, pulling Yenna up with her. “Why were you two sparring?”
Yenna clutched her arm, like using her uninjured hand would help stop the bleeding. “We had both finished our testings. We just wanted some extra practice. I might’ve… Purposely pissed her off.”
Ivy put her hand on Yenna’s back and started guiding her to the small backroom that was the infirmary. “I hope you at least feel like you got more practice in.”
“I don’t know about that.” Yenna looked down at her arm, reeling back in disgust yet again. “But I think I’m in love.”
“In.. love?”
“Yes. With Flare,” Yenna gushed, staring off into space happily like her skin wasn’t sliced in half. “We just clicked so well when we were bickering, and the way she fights is mesmerizing. That’s why I got this,” she gestured to her injury. “I got distracted by her eyes.”
“The girl with the claws?”
“Yes. Keep up. Anyway…” Ivy started to tune Yenna out as she went deep into thought.
Yenna and Hade were the types to have new crushes relatively often. Ivy didn’t understand how. She had one crush on a boy during school, and it had ended so embarrassingly that she swore off romance for two years.
It didn’t help that she had never grown up around any long-lasting couples, either. She didn’t know what it looked like. Ivy knew her dad had loved her mom, but she died when Ivy was a baby. Her dad never remarried; just focused on raising her. A lot of other married couples she knew had only gotten married for the benefits and had a loveless marriage.
The only couple she had ever seen with everlasting love was Hade’s parents.
“…Ivy,” the sound of her name pulled her out of her daze as Yenna continued to speak. “I know you’re not the type to talk about people like this, but I promise one day someone will sweep you off your feet.”
“You sound like Hade.” It wasn’t a bad thing. Ivy believed it to be true, and she did want it. She wanted someone to take her out to the drinking hub and make her necklaces out of seashells.
She just didn’t see it happening for herself any time soon.
“He’s not wrong. It’ll happen.”
“I know.” Ivy left it at that.
The two entered the infirmary. It wasn’t much like what Ivy had pictured an infirmary to be. It was a small room with two chairs and three beds, all somehow stuffed in the space. The only nurse they had was Mrs. Yamamoto, who also worked full-time at the dockside.
Two of the beds were occupied by sleeping kids. Mrs. Yamamoto and another girl with flaming red hair sat in the chairs. The redheaded girl had a bruise forming around the corner of her eye as Mrs. Yamamoto iced it.
The redheaded girl was familiar, but Ivy couldn’t place why. She was gorgeous, though, whoever she was. Her red hair gleamed like a flame, and her eyes were deep green like evergreens darkened by the night sky. Ivy couldn’t help but stare a little.
“Anahera, you really have to stop fighting with the kids.”
“It’s not my fault some of them are cocky little shi-“
Yenna interrupted them by knocking on the doorframe. The two jumped back slightly, clearly startled by the noise.
“Oh dear!” Mrs. Yamamoto let out a surprised yelp at the sight of Yenna’s arm and stood up, immediately taking her from Ivy and sitting her down on one of the beds. Ivy just stayed in the corner, not wanting to get in the way.
Anahera’s eyes zoned in on Yenna’s arm, making the girl’s face lurch back in disgust. “Yikes. How did you do that?”
“Got grazed by a trident.” Mrs. Yamamoto was blocking Yenna’s face, but from years of knowing her friend, Ivy guessed she must’ve narrowed her eyes. Yenna didn’t like other people butting into her business. “How did you do that?” She repeated, pointing at Anahera’s black eye.
“Some kid said some bullshit about one of my friends. I don’t stand for that,” Anahera said simply.
That was what made Ivy recognize the girl. Anahera Sincaid, victor of the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games, who won by hunting the kid who killed her district partner. Her win didn’t come as a surprise to the citizens of District 4. Her parents had been big donors to The Academy, and she had been trained since she could walk.
Unlike a lot of District 4’s other victors, Anahera was seen around the mainland and dockside often. She frequented the drinking hub and was always wandering the market, but like the other victors, she didn’t talk to anyone.
Ivy wondered why she was there. Victors assisting with academy training wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common.
“Why are you at The Academy?” Ivy blurted out, immediately pressing her lips together in regret. She did that a lot, speaking without thinking or voicing her thoughts aloud. A voice that sounded awfully like her old school teacher said, ‘Ivy, that was rude.’
Anahera didn’t seem offended, though. She let out a small chuckle, probably amused by Ivy’s bluntness. “It was getting boring at Victor’s Estuary. Figured I could try and make myself useful.” She pressed her ice pack to her bruise.
“What’s it like living on Victor’s Estuary?” Yenna asked. Victor’s Estuary was a small island that contained twelve luxurious houses. When someone from District 4 won, they were assigned one of the homes.
It was a big incentive for some of the more vicious students.
“Why? Eager to become my neighbor?”
“Just answer the question.”
It took Anahera a long moment to reply. “Quiet. For the most part.”
“When I get picked to volunteer, I’m going to use your strategy in the games. Or maybe Johanna Mason’s.”
Anahera’s eyes twitched. “The Capitol wouldn’t like that happening two years in a row.”
Ivy fixated on Yenna’s words. When, not if. She didn’t understand. Yenna had never wanted to be in the games. What made her change her mind? It must’ve been something she hadn’t told Ivy about.
“You know you don’t have to volunteer even if they pick you, right?” Ivy asked. She couldn’t lose Yenna. Just the idea of her friend having to fight in the games with the possibility of never coming home made her want to burst into tears.
Yenna looked at Ivy, confused. “Yes, I do. The District would shun me if I didn’t. Remember Ruben Blackthorn?”
Ivy just shook her head. The name didn’t ring any bells
“Exactly. He was supposed to volunteer a few years ago, but he got cold feet,” Yenna explained.
Ivy remembered the boy now. He had been a few years younger than the volunteers typically were but was said to have wickedly good aim. When the reaping happened and Hydra Lowcreek asked for boy volunteers, there were none. The boy who had been reaped that year was only thirteen.
It wasn’t bad for Ruben at first. Most of the district just ignored him, but when they had to watch the reaped boy get beheaded on television, the district tried to do everything they could to shun Ruben from society. Some did it because of the boy’s selfishness, others did it because they didn’t understand why he didn’t want to honor the district. All the reasonings had made Ivy’s head hurt. They still did.
Ivy let out a shaky breath. “I just didn’t know you wanted to be in the games.”
Mrs. Yamamoto stood up. Blood was soaking through the white bandage she wrapped around Yenna’s arm. “That’s going to need stitches. One of the healers at the dockside can do it.”
Anahera stood up. “Honestly, you'd better hope you don’t get picked. Not with a wound like that.” She walked out of the room, but stopped, leaning back through the doorframe. “May the odds be in your favors. Take that however you want.”
The room was silent until Yenna’s boots started clicking on the floor. She thanked Mrs. Yamamoto and gestured for Ivy to follow her.
The two spoke once they were in the hallway. “Look,” Yenna began. “It’s not that I’m eager to go kill people in an arena—” Yes, I would hope not, Ivy thought, “but being rich and famous doesn’t seem like a bad idea, either. And if I have to win the games to achieve that, then okay.”
Ivy could only selfishly hope she didn’t hear the names of anyone she cared about called at the announcement that night.
Ivy reeked of fish when she arrived back at The Academy. She had spent her whole afternoon in waiting mode, not being able to do anything because she knew she would have to go back. She at least managed to help her dad on their boat and take Yenna to a healer.
The gymnasium had been cleaned out, leaving the floor empty. The students who qualified were all sitting in groups, deep in discussion. Some were betting on who would get picked to volunteer, while others were speaking with doubt in themselves.
Ivy tried not to step on anyone’s hands as she looked for Hade and Yenna. The two were seated in the center of the room, the girl with the claws sitting between them. Ivy really needed to remember her name.
She sat down on the hot floor next to Hade, who was leaning back on his hands. The three were already locked into a conversation. Ivy brought her knees to her chest, sitting comfortably.
“Hey, Ives,” Hade greeted. Yenna and Claw girl veered off into their own conversation as if their sparring earlier hadn’t happened. “How was your afternoon?”
“Boring. Other than taking Yenna to the healer.”
Hade grinned, and Ivy knew the teasing was coming. “Oh, yeah? How did that go?”
“Well, she didn’t seem very happy.”
“You wouldn’t be happy either if someone stuck a needle in your arm!” Yenna argued. Claw girl giggled, making Ivy’s friend blush.
“I spent my entire afternoon fishing,” Hade explained. “Is it just me, or did the Capitol order more food than usual?”
“Tell me about it,” Claw girl said at the same time Yenna said, “It’s not just you.”
An image of knot-tying flared in Ivy’s mind. She and her dad were on their boat, weaving rope together. “The Capitol has ordered twice as much as they usually do. We need to extend the net,” Her dad had explained. They spent the rest of the afternoon tying rope to an already large net.
Ivy was about to tell her friends about it when Maximilian’s voice boomed through the gymnasium.
“Most of you exceeded in your testing this morning.” The man did not sound excited. He sounded even more uninterested than he had earlier. Surely there was someone else they could get to make the announcement? “As for the others, well…”
Hade let out a loud laugh, quickly covering his mouth when groups of people turned their heads in his direction. Ivy lightly smacked his side.
Maximilian did not remark on it. “As always, the two volunteers are picked based on the total number of their precision, adaptability, and endurance points. If the boy and girl who are chosen do not volunteer at the reaping and are eligible for another year at The Academy, they will not be allowed back. Understood?” He stayed silent for a few moments, waiting for people to acknowledge what he said. There were a few grunts of understanding, while most people just nodded. “Good. Let’s begin. We will be announcing who had the most points in the respective categories first…”
He pulled a list from his pocket and read the names of kids Ivy didn’t know. Clapping and cheering erupted in the gymnasium as the names were called. She wanted to leave. She didn’t see what was exciting about being good at any of these things. Kids didn’t seem like they were supposed to be trained to kill other kids, especially when it didn’t guarantee their survival.
Ivy couldn’t say any of that out loud. Not when most colleagues sitting around her were eagerly waiting to hear their names called to be tributes.
“The girl was the most adaptability points is.. Ivy Bellgaze!” Ivy’s friends screamed out of excitement. Hade grabbed her shoulders and started repeating the words, “I told you! I told you!” She smiled and laughed, despite herself. Mostly at her friend’s antics. She knew all those questions would be helpful. Adaptability was a useful skill to have in general, so Ivy felt pleased. Her dad would be proud of her, too.
“And now, the boy and girl with the highest total points, who will volunteer at the reaping are…”
The tension in the gymnasium was thick. Even the sound of everyone’s uneven breathing seemed loud, but no one dared to speak. They kept their eyes locked on Maximilian. Yenna and Hade looked hopeful. Ivy looked fearful.
Please, not any of my friends. Please, not any of my friends. The phrase repeated so loudly in Ivy’s head that she almost missed the names. The only reason she didn’t was because one of the names was someone she was so achingly familiar with that her heart stopped—
“Hade Luna and Flare Rivershore!”