Too Clever

Chapter 23

     I need to get back to the Cornucopia before dawn arrives. The sun has just set, telling me it's about eight o'clock. That gives me ten hours until the sun begins to make an appearance at six o'clock. That means I have to start walking now to make it there in time. But which way to go?
     Before the jets forced me off my route, I was heading in a straight line from the Cornucopia. Then the Gamemakers' jets compelled me off to the left. I only headed in that direction for about ten minutes before coming across the stream, and I haven't moved since. So I have to make a sharp left and head straight, which, if I am correct, will lead me right back to the Cornucopia.
     So, after filling up my water skin to the brim with fresh river water, I stuff the blanket into my backpack, strap the backpack over my shoulders, and begin making the long hike back to the middle of the arena.
The anthem plays, and no faces appear in the sky tonight. There are still six of us left. Cato, Clove, Thresh, Katniss, Peeta, and of course, myself. I just need to hope this feast will lead to the deaths of a few of these tributes, preferably Cato or Thresh, or even Peeta. If it comes down to myself and Katniss, who is closer to my size, I may have a chance; although I just hope she runs out of arrows. Clove is much bigger than me, but Cato, Thresh, and Peeta are much stronger.
It doesn't take long for me to realize how hard this hike is going to be. My body's fatigued, and my muscles ache a bit from running away from the jets, on top of lack of food. As of right now, I can stick it out and continue walking, but later in the night, when I become even more exhausted, it will be much more difficult to keep going. So, to distract myself from thinking about how tired I am, I begin counting silently in my head. First I start with one. Then I count one, two, and then back to one. One, two, three, two, one. And so on until I get to ten. Then I start counting back down. It's what I used to do when I got bored in school.
Of course, I've always gotten very goods grades in school, and I actually used to enjoy it. Most kids complained about going to school, but I actually found most of my classes interesting, except for history, which is all about the Dark Days and the war leading up to Panem and the Hunger Games. It's the same lessons every year in that class.
Calla and I, and sometimes Aster, used to walk home from school every day together. Calla lives just a few houses down from my family, and Aster lives a little farther away, closer to the Square. Sometimes Calla would stay at my house for a while after school, and we would work in the garden or just sit on my bed and talk for hours.
     But, regardless of whether Calla came over or not, every day after school, Nora would always give a run down of everything that happened that day. She would tell me what they did in class, the latest gossip of kids in her grade, what she got on a test, everything. I never asked why she did that, but I guess she just likes to talk. Nora never stops talking, ever. She used to talk so much when she was little that people just stopped listening. It was like she was having a conversation with herself, and my mother nicknamed her "chatterbox."
     I wish I could be with her now. I wish I could be sitting at our little kitchen table with Calla and Nora, Nora chattering on about her day while Calla and I secretly smirk at each other while she isn't looking. Not the most exciting thing in the world, but just a normal, everyday thing before my life veered out of control at the reaping a few weeks ago.
     Come to think of it, I have no idea how many days I've been in the arena for. Two weeks maybe? All I know is that it feels like I've been away for a year. It couldn't have been just a few weeks ago that I was at home, putting on a cream-colored dress while my sister stood in the doorway in her champagne one.
After about four hours, my legs can't take it any more, and I have to sit down for a couple of minutes. I drink a sip of water and plop a handful of berries into my mouth, the strong, sour taste giving me a bit of a stimulant.
Half way there, I say quietly to myself. Half way there.
     I put my water skin in my backpack, zip it up, and continue on in the same direction. The whole time, I have to keep taking short breaks in between.
     Finally, after what feels like an entire day, the birds start to chirp, and the mockingjays begin to whistle soft, cheerful tunes. The sun is about to rise. I also begin to see moss, indicating that there is water nearby. So I'm almost at the lake, which is right near the Cornucopia. I'm almost there.
     The great horn comes into view. I stop at the tree line, making sure no one else is in sight, and, with all my remaining energy, sprint to the Cornucopia and collapse against the inside of it, gasping for air.
     Once I catch my breath, I chug down some more water and eat a few handfuls of roots; the all-night exertion left me starving. I take my jacket off for a minute to cool off a little, then put it right back on. The temperature hasn't yet risen.
     By this time, I'm guessing some of the other tributes are crouched down in the tree line, waiting for the feast to begin. I'm in a good position. As soon as the items we need arrive, all I have to do is grab mine and clear out as fast as possible. No one will come after me, as I will not have taken their item, and surly they won't leave it sitting there for another tribute to take.
     I get up and move around a little, regaining my energy and preparing myself to sprint back to the trees after I've gotten whatever it is I need. After a few minutes of that, I crouch down right in the edge of the Cornucopia, waiting for something to happen. It must be getting close now.
     Just as the first ray of sunshine dips across the horizon, the ground a few feet away from me starts to shake. Then the ground splits, and a little table emerges from underneath. On top of the table sits four backpacks, each with a number on it, indicating district.
     Without a second thought, I jump out of the Cornucopia, grab the medium green backpack with a number 5 on it, and sprint as fast as I can back to the forest, adrenaline pumping through my body. Just as I thought, nobody comes after me. They're probably all waiting in the tree line, pondering on whether or not to make their move, while I've already gotten my bag.
     I'm just too smart, I think, smirking slightly to myself.
I crouch down and unzip the bag, eager to see what's inside. I find a long, curved blade with a metal handle, like a cross between a large knife and a sword. I think they called it a scythe back at the Training Center. Whatever it is, at least now I have a weapon.
The problem is, I don't know how to use it. There must be some technique or such that makes it easier to use. But it's better to have something, even if I don't know how to use it very well. If it comes down to it and a tribute is within reach, I might be able to do some damage, or maybe protect myself against their weapons.
So, with a feeling of relief, I sit down and wait for the fun to begin.