Ch 2
Whooooosh! The flying automobile whizzed past the buildings and people and headed towards the Justice Building at an unsafe speed. I had to grip on to the driver's seat in order to keep from crashing into my mother who was on the right side of me. Apparently, this vehicle had never heard of seatbelts. Six, was the number of times my wig had fallen off my head. My mother's wig had also fallen off at a similar number of times.
"Are you sure this was a good idea?" I shouted to my mom over the whirring of the automobile. Didn't the driver know how to go slowly?
My mother didn't bother replying. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be doing her best to restrain herself. I wasn't, though. It was just, this was ridiculous!
Suddenly, the automobile came to a halt and I was thrown forward into the seat in front of me. I groaned in pain before getting up and brushing myself off. I exchanged looks with my mom, whose eyes said Why have we stopped?, before looking out the window of the automobile. We were here.
The door of the vehicle opened and a young man with orange frizzy hair and purple eyeliner gazed at me and offered me a hand out of the automobile. I smiled, nodded and took his hand, before getting out and looking at the building that we had stopped at.
The Justice Building was more of a colosseum than anything else. It had four long pillars running down it and was the only thing that looked ancient in the whole of the Capitol. Every district had a Justice Building too, as it seemed it was a tradition in Panem.
"Follow me." The man with the curly orange hair, who I now realise had been our driver, said before walking up into the Justice Building. I attempted to follow after him, which wasn't easy in my tall thin studded heels. My mother was having no problem walking in her heels though, and soon was ahead of me.
I gazed around the building as I walked inside. I had never been inside the Justice Building before, neither had most people, but I knew from stories my Mother had told me and from looking at her that she had. She didn't have that look of curiosity on her face, though she did look distant, as if she was reminiscing about her time here.
It was quite dark in the building, and as we walked further into it, I had to squint to see, as the candles didn't offer much light to the place. I wondered, walking through the old place, why I was having my interview here. It didn't seem like a very suitable place.
"All important events have been held here for years, ever since this building was made during the war to protect the Capitol citizens." The driver of the automobile said, as if reading my mind. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. It seemed even he was nervous about seeing President Snow. "It is thought to be very holy and sacred, and brings good luck. It is also very silent, meaning it is the perfect place for an interview. The President will be expecting you to be unnerved by this environment. Don't show your fear."
I couldn't help but give him a strange look. Why was he giving me advice? He didn't even know me.
"That's what I think." He muttered, before walking quickly on past me. He sure was a strange man.
"Here we are!" I heard my mother exclaim, coming to a halt at the ivory doors in front of her. I was only about 3 metres from where she stood, exhausted. If I had thought the Justice Building was small before, I certainly didn't now.
Hesitantly, the driver, who was standing next to my mom, opened the doors to reveal an average-sized room with violet walls and an overpowering smell of roses. The roses in questions sat in a tall glass vase on a mahogany table in the centre of the room, and behind it, President Snow, his snake eyes staring directly at me.
Suddenly, it was as if I had stepped into the television at home. I had only ever seen President Snow on the TV, wishing good luck to the tributes for The Hunger Games and giving interviews. He smiled at me now, as I hastily sat down in one of the cushioned chairs on the other side of the table, and my mother began to walk towards the chair next to me.
"Not so fast, Mrs Trinket. As much as it warms me to see how much you care about your child, this interview is confidential, and I don't want you to say anything that could change Persephone's performance in any way." He licked his puffy lips, that I was sure were surgically altered.
Mom nodded, silent as I'd ever seen her. With a reluctant smile, she walked out the room, the driver following her. As the doors closed, their sound left an echo, but after that, silence. Just me and the President of Panem in the small quiet room.
"So- Persephone, is it? - why are you interested in being an escort?" He smiled at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world. For him, it probably was.
"It's Effie." I said, struggling to get out the words. Correcting him seemed rude. "And I would like to be an escort as I feel that I can really contribute to the tributes' performances and improve their skills with people. I also feel that the reaping is a key part of The Hunger Games, and that I would reap the tributes with a lively and cheery demeanour." I chimed, repeating what my mother had told me to say.
Snow nodded. "Yes, Effie, I can see what you are saying. But, you see, I'm not sure you're ready. The escort is the hardest job of them all. And do you know why that is? Because you have to cope with the whole of Panem, with the exception, perhaps, of the Capitol citizens, despising you."
I could only nod a little, and play with my hands. My mind had gone completely blank from his words.
"You look puzzled, my dear. Allow me to explain." He straightened his pink tie. "You see, the people of Panem will hate you because you have reaped the citizens of their district. Sealed the fate of 24 children. In a way, killed them."
"But," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But, that's not fair! It's not the escort's fault. They simply read out the names, they don't choose the tributes."
Snow nodded. "I agree, Effie, I agree, but the people of Panem do not see it like that. They do not see that the Hunger Games are the Capitol's way of remembering our past and safeguarding our future. Even the victors, who we have lavished in gifts and money, don't seem to be grateful for the Capitol's generosity and forgiveness." He sighed. "Sometimes I feel as if the war has segregated us all, left us to be separate, so different to each other. Are we really so different, Capitol and District?"
It took me a minute to register this as a question. "Oh, no sir, not at all. We just have differing opinions, that's all." Of course, that wasn't my view at all, but it seemed to please President Snow. His eyes lit up.
"Yes, Effie, I am glad you understand. I am impressed with the way you have presented yourself. But it's time to put you into a hypothetical situation." Snow stood up, and I saw that he was wearing a black suit with silver cufflinks, and black brogues. He walked to the back of the room, where an oak cabinet stood, and pulled out an object that I couldn't see from one its draws. Silently, he walked back to the table, sat down and placed the object on the table. Then I saw what it was. A reaping bowl.
Well, it was more of a model of a reaping bowl. I could see from here that the slips of paper had nothing written on them, and were for practicing purposes only. Without speaking, Snow pushed the bowl towards me. Our eyes locked, and I understood what he was trying to tell me. Reap.
I stood up and brushed myself off, before putting on a big grin. Act like everything in the world is amazing, like you're always happy. My mother had advised me. And remember to keep your manners immaculate.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome," I bellowed to the room, feeling stupid. "To the reaping of the 57th annual Hunger Games!" I put an emphasis on the word "games", trying to get that strange 'Capitol accent' that I had seen people on the television use. "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds," I said, still smiling, "be ever in your favor. Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capitol!" I tried to look excited and skipped forward to after the video, picking up the bowl and trying not to think about Snow's glassy eyes on me.
"Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District 1 in the 57th annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first."
I shoved my right hand into the bowl, rifling through the pieces of paper. I hoped from me mentioning "District 1" that he would get the hint- I wanted to be an escort for that district.
I took a piece of paper from the bowl and brought it up to my eyes. Of course, as I expected, there were no words written there, so I improvised.
"Laure Diver!" I said. It was not a name I had heard before, but I don't think it was the name that mattered, but the way I said it, so I tried to put as much enthusiasm into it as I could.
After bringing a pretend Laure to the pretend stage, I said "Now for the boys!" And dug my hand into the bowl again. I pulled out the piece of paper and set the bowl on the table.
"Haymitch Abernathy!" I declared. I had heard it before in one of the Games a few years ago, but it wasn't of any importance to me. Almost immediately after I'd said it, though, Snow spat out some gum I hadn't even realised he'd been chewing.
"Was that some kind of joke, Miss Trinket?" He said, going red. I was going red myself, of embarrassment. Oh Effie. You've really done it this time.
"I..I.." I said, but I couldn't think if anything to say. I didn't know why President Snow was reacting so badly to that name.
"Haymitch Abernathy is the victor of the 50th Hunger Games who violated the rules by using the force fields of the arena to kill his final opponent. He is also a vile man who spends his time drinking. Does that amuse you, Effie?" He was scowling now, a far cry from the relaxed person he had seemed only a minute earlier.
"I'm sorry, President." It was a weak response, and I knew it.
"You are dismissed, Miss Trinket. It was nice to hear from you."
As if by magic, the doors of the room opened, revealing my mother waiting outside. Judging by her expression, she hadn't heard any of it. She looked extremely curious, and hopeful. Too bad I let her down, I thought.
The doors closed behind me with a kind of fury as I walked out the room towards my mother.
"How was the interview? Did you get the job? Are you an escort for District 1?"
I tried not to let my feelings show. I couldn't let my mother down. So I simply shrugged and was quiet on the journey home. When I finally got back, I ran to my room and cried, cried, cried.