People will always question why one would become an escort for tributes in the Hunger Games. They will always judge those who make the choice to become one. Originally Effie Trinket was like that, judgemental. She was not the type of person who enjoyed watching the events of the Hunger Games every year. She hated watching the Reaping's, unlike her mother, who made it tradition to watch them with the whole family around. They would make bets about what age the victors from each district would be, they would cheer when they got it right. Her mother would then pass around a piece of paper and everyone would write the name of which tribute they would think would be the next victor. It made her feel sick to the stomach. Effie once asked her mother why they got so much joy out of it, and her mother answered her and said "They deserve it." Whilst Effie watched the Reaping's, there was one part she enjoyed, seeing the escorts. Living in the Capitol she was used to seeing the highest of fashion and colourful clothing and hairstyles, but the Escorts were different. Not only did they look dazzling, they held themselves and spoke with such confidence that they intrigued her. She would sit so close to the screen and focus on every part of each Escort. With pen and paper she would draw them all, down to the tiny sparkling gems on their cheeks. After the Reaping's finished she would race off to her room and create outfits based on that of the Escorts. She showed her mother them, and she laughed at them, calling them outrageous. Effie never gave up, and after years of watching the Hunger Games and creating outfits, Effie decided that she would become an Escort and get recognised by the whole of Panem.
1.
What will mother think? My voice inside my head rang aloud. I always thought that when I was proposed to it would be by someone I loved, but staring at the ring on my finger I couldn't manage to say the words "I love you" aloud. I had never given marriage much thought. Most of my life I have been looking working constantly to become an escort, and now it was finally happening. I haven't even known him that long, why was he proposing? There is a knock at my door and I pull myself up reluctantly. "Congratulations!" My mother sings when I open the door, her piercing blue eyes shining. She shuffles past me as I stare at her speechless. How had she heard already? She grabs my hand and holds my ring finger up to the light overhead, "Oh Effie, it is beautiful!" She squeals. I yank my hand away, "thank you Mother." She falls onto the settee and smiles at me, "So I was thinking, next week for the wedding?" I had picked up one of my silk scarves and let it drop to the floor in surprise. "What? What is the rush?!" I exclaim, my voice catching, "I am getting assigned to a district next week and then I am travelling there for the Reaping, you know that mother!"
My mother shakes her head and throws her hands up in exasperation, "Effie, you are to be married. A married woman cannot be an escort! I thought you would rethink this whole Escort business, you should come and work with me, and it would be much more than working in the Hunger Games dear."
Her words make me realise how much she didn't want me to be an escort, she had obviously arranged the engagement and was determined to get me married off sharp.
"I can't believe you mother!" I shout, "I am going to become an escort and everyone will know my name, you wait and see" I yank the ring off of my finger and launch it across the room "and the engagement is off!"
My mother stands up, exhaustion shown clearly on her face, "Very well Effie, I have tried to reason with you. You could have had a good life, a good husband."
I sigh "Mother, I will have a good life and a good husband. I'm just not ready to be tied down to someone."
My mother is now at the door, she turns before she leaves and says "Well, when you are ready to be tied down to someone Effie, make sure he is not someone from outside the Capitol. And promise me he won't be addicted to Morphling, or worse."
"What could be worse?" I ask
She laughs slightly "An alcoholic of course."
I never wanted to be assigned to District Twelve. I had wanted maybe One or Two, but none more than Seven. Nobody won from District Twelve, well apart from Haymitch Abernathy, but I was convinced his winning was just luck. None the less I was stuck working with him. I remember the first time I met him, In the Justice Hall at District Twelve. He had had a few drinks but was in a perfectly good state. I couldn't stop the look of disapproval from my face when I saw him. I had remembered the young man who won the last Quarter Quell, the man in front of me was not that. He has stubble dotted along his slightly pointed chin, his greasy blonde hair falls messily into his ice blue eyes. He held a dirty looking hand out toward me, meaning for me to shake it. Instead I introduce myself keeping my hands behind my back. Haymitch looks puzzled at me, then shrugs picking up his drink and leans on the desk beside where he was standing. "You think you are too high class to shake the hand of a victor?" He raises his eyebrows. I hold my hands up to show him the gloves on my hands, "These are perfect silk" I say, expecting him to understand but he seems bored and he shrugs.
"Couldn't care less sweetheart." He says, his voice bitter. I clench my fists at my sides, I wasn't letting him talk to me like that, "I can assure you Mr Abernathy that I definitely am not a sweetheart" I snap my fingers at him, thought they do not snap because of the silk of my gloves. Haymitch refilled his glass, the smell of liquor clings to my throat. "Well then, Mrs…"
"Miss!" I correct him.
Haymitch clears his throat, "Sorry Miss Tinker…"
"Trinket my last name is Trinket!"
"And this is getting boring" He says and then waves his hand dismissively at me. I turn to check my reflection in the mirror, I have to make a good impression on my first Reaping.
"What is with the wig?" Haymitch thinks aloud. I shoot him a hard glance
"It is quite the style in the Capitol, not that you are remotely interested in the way I dress or why I dress like that." Haymitch laughs a little but doesn't say anything. I didn't see why everyone outside the Capitol thought it strange to wear colourful hair in place of your own. I pull the small extra blue flyaways from my hair, smoothing them into the loose bun. My eyeshadow matches my hair, as does my lips. One would think that the people of the districts would make more of an effort to look better. I set my lips in a thin line feeling the gaze of Haymitch steady on the back of my head. I top up my make-up, the time on the clock reads two minutes until the Reaping starts. I turn to Haymitch, to find he has already left the room. A slight sigh comes from my mouth for a reason unknown to me. Perhaps I wanted someone to be at my side as I step out to Reap my tributes. Another quick glance in the mirror, and I give myself a mini thumbs up, and rehearse my smile.
"C'mon then, the kids are just dying to see you" Haymitch's voice from the doorway makes me spin around. He leans carelessly against the door frame, like he needs it to keep him standing. I smooth down my turquoise blouse and stride past him, as I pass I catch the mixed smell of tobacco and liquor (and the slightest smell of dampness). He coolly catches up with me and puts his hand lightly on my left puffy shoulder pad "Why in the world would a young thing like you want to do this?" He asks, spitting on me a little. I take out a handkerchief and wipe my cheek. "It's none of your business, Haymitch" I say, practically hissing his name, not hiding my annoyance at his forwardness.
"One day it will be" He says. We stop in front of the huge doors. Haymitch turns to me.
"Showtime."