When the sixty-fourth Hunger Games started, there were three facts about Effie Trinket that only one person in district twelve knew; She was eighteen, she was terrified, and she did NOT want to do this. She had forced a cheerful smile on her face, and was only able to not tremble by sheer willpower. She had to do this. With a peppy,
"Ladies first!", she dug her hands into the first reaping bowl, and dug out one slip, she unfolded it, to announce the female tribute for this year's game, "Alisha Crane!" Her eyes dart over the crowd looking for the "lucky" girl. To her horror, a slight girl, who appeared to be twelve, started to make her way to the stage. Effie was barely able to cover her shock, how could she have drawn a child that young? It was a struggle to keep her composure, but she managed, somehow, to keep the bright smile on her face. She wouldn't, couldn't do otherwise.
"And now for our gentleman, Thomas Kryell!" She watched as a young man, around fourteen came to the stage slowly. "Let's give a hand for your tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and May the odds be ever in your favor!" Then she led the children, like lambs to the slaughter, towards the rooms they would use to make their final goodbyes. It was then that she was certain that she hated this job.
One hour later, it was time to leave. They were waiting on the district mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the fiftieth Hunger Games. It was imperative that the train leave on time, there was a schedule to keep. The capitol or President Snow rather, had designed it. Failure to be timely would result in consequences. Effie left the train, to drag the man onto it, unconscious if need be. She needn't have worried, as she was about to step off the train to find him, Haymitch stumbled on board, soused and reeking of some alcohol.
She'd been warned about this. The previous escort for twelve had told her all about the lout. He was always drunk and of no help, kept the Avoxes busy cleaning up after him. She glared at him, and then turned on the bright smile for Alisha and Thomas,
"That's everyone! Dinner will be served in half an hour." She made her way to her quarters, where she could at least stop smiling like a demented clown. She needed a break, a little downtime, before resuming the masquerade.
Not soon enough, the night came, and she was able to finally take off all the standard capitol dress and the awful wig. Effie hated wearing it, wanting to let her blonde curls down freely, but she understood it would not be tolerated. And she wouldn't be the one punished for it. That was enough to keep her cooperating. She laid in the bed, comfortable in body, but utterly wrecked in spirit. Those poor children, taken away from their families. And she was a part of it, however unwillingly. Silent tears came down her cheeks. She didn't dare sob out loud, not wanting anyone to overhear her.
Unfortunately, no one had warned Haymitch about this. Her door was flung open, and he was even more drunk than before they'd left district twelve. He staggered to the bed and flung himself on it, headless of the crying woman laying on it.
"Mr. Abernathy! You are in the wrong room and I suggest you leave now!" Her voice threatened to quiver in the middle of her sentence and the man looked at her in shock.
"Who the hell are you? Where's Trixie, with that wig and makeup?" His words were slurred.
"My name is Effie Trinket, not Trixie." Effie's indignation was great enough to make her stop crying and sit up. "You are not welcome in my room." Haymitch's mental processes were not at top capacity, but after ten years of being in a near stupor from alcohol, he'd adjusted enough to realize something was wrong. The new "Capitol Bitch" as he'd named her in his head, had obviously been crying. Being the totally sensitive, caring guy, he of course asked,
"Fuck's wrong with you?" He laid his head back on the bed. Effie sighed obviously; the man had no manners or any clue at all as to how things were. Stupid drunk fool. She rustled around her nightstand, writing quietly. She handed him the note, while saying,
"As if I'm going to tell you all my troubles. Get out of my room, now, you drunken oaf, before you ruin my carpet." Haymitch read the note, which simply read,
"Do not read this out loud, my room, and most others on the train are bugged. Meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes, if you can find your way there without passing out." He passed the note back, nodding his agreement even as he said,
"Fine, don't talk to me about whatever your lousy boyfriend did. Not even that interested." Haymitch left the room, heading for the kitchen slowly. Walking on a train while drunk took concentration and helped clear his head.
Haymitch grabbed a few slices of bread, trying to get rid of some of the alcohol in his system, sober up a little. When Effie walked in a few minutes later, she headed for the coffee. She hadn't bothered to put on her makeup, or that ridiculous wig. She poured them both a cup, leaning against one of the counters.
"No bugs in here?" Haymitch asked her quietly. Effie shook her head.
"No, the steam and heat make it impossible. Same with all the bathrooms, they can't listen. As long as we aren't too loud, the capitol can't hear us." She closed her eyes briefly before asking him, "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Wouldn't be in here if I didn't. Bar still has plenty of liquor." So, Effie told him. The whole story came spilling out. How her mother had died when she was two, and how much her father loved her, his only child. He'd never remarried, raising Effie by himself. How much Athius Trinket loathed the Hunger Games. And how he'd had too much to drink at a party when Effie was twelve, speaking out against the cruelty of the games, not heeding how the wrong ears might be listening.
The next day, the peacekeepers had broken down their door and Athius had been dragged out. Her raw terror and then being sent to live at her aunt's house. Effie still had nightmares about that. How when she'd turned eighteen, she'd been grabbed by peacekeepers on her way home from school and shoved into a white van that stank of roses. They'd blindfolded her, and when it was removed, she was facing President Snow.
How badly her knees had shook, facing the leader of Panem. He'd explained to her how her father was in prison, had been since that awful day when she was younger. He'd showed her a live video feed from her father's cell. And then, he'd given her the ultimatum; work as an escort and show the nation how enthusiastically she supported the Hunger Games, or Athius would be executed.
"What could I have done? And now, I'm trapped, forced into this role, to lead children to their deaths." Effie couldn't go on, even if she'd wanted to, the tears clogging her voice, threatening to choke her.
Of every story Haymitch had suspected, this had definitely had not been a possibility. He knew that Snow was an evil bastard. Had known for years, since his family, along with his girl had been killed. The alcohol was how he dealt with it; unfortunately, it only dimmed the pain and nightmares. The buzz he'd been feeling was long gone, leaving him feeling empathy for the woman standing beside him. For the first time in years, since his family had been murdered, he did something impulsive. He pulled Effie into a hug,
"I'm so sorry." Effie all but collapsed in his arms sobbing quietly. The last man to hug her was her father, the night before he disappeared into that capitol prison. Her aunt had been kind and loving, but it wasn't the same. It took several minutes for Effie to regain her composure, and Haymitch waited patiently. When she had stopped crying entirely, he patted her back a little and stepped back. He looked into her eyes, red and puffy from her tears.
"I'll help you get through this." He told her quietly, and then they both headed back to their separate rooms, neither one looking forward to the next weeks. Haymitch, because he knew both kids had such slim chances of winning, Effie, knowing in her heart there was nothing she could do to stop Alisha and Thomas from dying gruesomely in the arena.
