5
I honestly think I have a chance this year. District Twelve could have their first Victor since Haymitch Abernathy. Peeta and Katniss were extraordinary, they were brilliant, and they were beautiful. "That was brilliant!" I tell them after the Parade. "You'll be all anyone will talk about. You were on fire!"
Haymitch doesn't say much to them. I congratulate Cinna on his brilliant work. Then I take them to their rooms, and tell them that the interviews are tomorrow and they need their rest. Then I too decide I need my rest, but of course someone is going to keep me from it.
I see his face. Its dark, I call out to him but he doesn't help me. I scream over and over again and he still ignores me. I get the sensation that I am falling, down… down… down… and then I hear his voice.
"Effie!" He says, "Effie!" more urgency in his voice. I snap my eyes open, I am in my room, my blankets on the floor. I sit up straight, moving my arms around to make sure I can move. "Effie!" Haymitch shouts again. I can't say anything, I can't shake the nightmare out of my head. The door starts banging and I watch it move, presuming Haymitch is trying to break it down. He breaks through the door and stares at me wide eyed. His eyes search mine, and I move back, flinching away from him.
"Effie, what happened?" He asks. The bright lights snap on as he comes toward me.
"Haymitch" I whisper, finally managing to speak. "Haymitch" I repeat.
He stands awkwardly in the room, wearing his night clothes. "You were shouting on me" Haymitch says, "You were screaming my name"
I look down at my hands to find them red from gripping the edge of the bed. "What happened?" He asks sitting on the edge of my bed, I am uncomfortable with his caring voice, so unlike him.
"I had a dream" I say, I still don't look up, unsure if I want to go into details. The sight of him still scares me slightly. "You were in it, you were…" my throat catches. Before I know it, I am crying, silent tears rolling down my face.
"I wouldn't hurt you, Sweetheart, no matter how much I hate you at times." He says, "I may have killed before, but those days are as far behind me as I can put them"
"You didn't try to kill me" I say to my hands, "I don't even know what happened in it. All I recall seeing is your face…" I hear Haymitch inhale.
"I wouldn't ever, never, ever do anything bad Effie…"
"I know, I know, it was just so horrible" I shake my head and lift my eyes to meet his.
"You should get some sleep" Haymitch says, he puts a hand on my shoulder as he gets up. It warms me as it always does. "Sorry about the door" He says as an afterthought.
"It's not my door" I say, "thank you Haymitch, for waking me up. I'm not being sarcastic." I say.
"As long as you are okay, you had me real worried" He says.
"I wish you could be more like this during the day, Haymitch" I say as he is leaving.
"Now, what fun would that be Sweetheart?" He says and then closes the door.
I barely sleep that night, images of the nightmare flash through my mind. I give up trying to sleep before the pale morning light floods through the window. I result in wondering what prompted such a bizarre dream. I come to the conclusion that there is an element within Haymitch that I fear. Maybe it was because I had watched him kill when he was in the Games. Or it could be the way he speaks when he is angry or drunk, the sheer bitterness in his voice. I can never understand how he can be the most revolting person I have ever met and then he can be one of the nicest people I know. I wonder what would have become of him if he hadn't been in the Hunger Games, then again I would be a lone Escort, with no Mentor to consult with. Not that Haymitch and I make many decisions together. In previous years we spoke the most when the Tributes were in the Arena, not that they lasted very long. Also from reading the notes Haymtich had written about District Twelve's last Escort, I don't think he has ever really had to discuss much to do with the Games in the past. This year I am going to make him more responsible for the Tributes and take a little control. It seems like the old Escort was a bit of a control freak, unlike me of course. Well I am nowhere as bad as she seemed to be.
My schedule is beside my bed and I roll onto my side and pick it up, my nails lingering over today's events and the times they should be carried out. The interviews. How much I loathe the interviews. Why must they sit all the Tributes together and make them smile for the cameras, for the people in the Capitol, the Districts? Why must they dress them up and ask them all individually why they plan to become the next Victor? Like me in a way… I have to smile in front of the cameras and pretend that I enjoy every aspect of the Games, when I really don't. The way I had to try to clap for Katniss when she volunteered to take her sisters place. Maybe I am no different than the people who organise the Hunger Games every year, they want everything to look perfect even though they are practically murdering twenty-three innocent children. I get out of bed deciding I am obviously not going to get back to sleep. I am about to go into the bathroom, when I catch my reflection in the mirror, bare faced and wigless, the old me. The me that everyone doubted, mocked. The me that is still inside though is unrecognisable on the outside. The me that is screaming to be noticed. The me that Haymitch prefers… Why am I caring what Haymitch thinks? I'm not, I'm not caring what he thinks. I am just pointing out a plain fact that citizens outside the Capitol don't like the way I dress and have to act. I stare at my tanned face that is shameful to show in the Capitol because it is seeing as dirty to be outside for too long. I look right into my own large eyes, unmasked and vulnerable without a wall of make-up around them. I actually look… I look a little… nice? Who'd thought it would be possible to look nearly presentable without any products on you? True enough Katniss is naturally pretty, which I have the slightest touch of envy towards her. I wish it was so simple to wake up and walk out the door without even brushing my own hair. Giving it some thought Katniss might need to be trained for her interview. I decide I will spend the day teaching Katniss how to be a lady, which I will later come to regret.
I am almost certain Katniss hates me. After I made her walk in heels and constantly checked her for her outrageous manners. She gave me some scornful looks, which I shrugged off. I wonder how the people in the Districts don't have better manners. Some could argue that it's because they have very little food.
Peeta and Haymitch are speaking when I come into the dining room for an early meal before the interviews. They immediately when I come in, and I give them a questioning look. Haymitch shrugs, "So how did your little beauty session go then, Sweetheart?" Haymitch asks. I am about to answer when Katniss says,
"We learned I can't walk in heels." She huffs.
"No matter, I'm sure Cinna will make you look undeniably stunning" I say with a forced smile, I wasn't used to Haymitch calling anyone else bar me 'Sweetheart'. It stung a little.
"We are prepared for the interviews tonight though aren't we?" I say, looking from Katniss to Peeta and back to Katniss, waiting for a nod of reassurance but I receive nothing but distanced looks from both of them.
"Give the kids a break" Haymitch says. I narrow my eyes at him, having enough of his bad manners, his disgusting habits and drinking problems. Have I mentioned that he eats with his hands? How could one eat with their bare hands?
I have to bite back an un-ladylike growl, "Haymitch, can I talk to you in private please?" I say as calmly as I can manage. Haymitch raises his eyebrows
"If you must" He says as a he stands up. I march out of the room out into the hallway, Haymitch on my heels. I don't give him a chance to say anything,
"Why must you insist in embarrassing me in front of those two?!" I enquire, no too politely. I turn away from him and start pacing the hall, "This is my job Haymitch, what don't you understand about that? Maybe it is because you have never had to work a day in your drunken life, but this is important to me! Even more this year than it has been in the past because of…" my voice catches.
"Because your mother is forcing you into marriage if your job is proven pointless" Haymitch points out, unhelpfully. I don't look at him, for if I do I will be very tempted to punch him where he stands.
"Thank you for that reminder Haymitch! Does this make you feel good, making other people feel bad? Do you enjoy to see me struggle trying to stay positive with everyone? Do you enjoy pointing out my flaws, telling me that what I'm doing won't make a difference to anyone?! Why must you be so irritating, can't you just let me be and do things my way without you putting in a snide comment?! I am trying to create a Victor Haymitch, for my sake and also for yours!" My voice has risen to a pitch higher than I thought I could reach. I look at him now, he leans against the wall staring at me with an off putting interest, and slight amusement in his smug expression, "All done now, Sweetheart?" He asks. Rage boils up inside me, my nails dig into my palms as I curl my hands into fists. I storm towards my room door, Haymitch steps out blocking my path. I put my arms out, trying to push him out of the way.
"You're not done" He says.
"Move out of my way Haymitch" I say ignoring his comment.
"You're not done, Effie. I'm right here, let it out. All that anger inside, let it out"
I look into his cool eyes, searching for the sign that he is joking, but find a sense of honesty that sends tiny bumps all over me. I shake my head, "No, I don't have any…"
He puts his hands on my shoulders. I hate the fact that I am shorter than almost everyone, "Don't you say you don't have any anger." Haymitch says. I push his hands away and this time he moves and lets me pass. I race into my room and slam the door behind me, and slide down it onto the floor, my head in my hands. What have I become? Is all I can think as I breathe heavily. What Haymitch said was true; I was angry, so angry. I'm angry at the Games, angry at my mother, angry at Haymitch, but most of all angry at myself. My head feels so heavy carrying all my feelings that I can't even begin to express. I have to pull myself together and get ready for tonight, I have to put my fake smile on once again.
I sit a little while longer on the floor, thinking about my life and how pointless it all seems. I come to the conclusion that marrying someone my mother picks out won't be as bad as I originally thought, and that I ought to take her advice and marry soon, for I have also decided that that type of love doesn't really exist. Getting to my age and never having felt it, so I probably won't ever.
I dress for the Interviews, not that I will be on camera but there will be some of the highest of people from the Capitol attending, and some good friends of mine. I lift my spirits a little at thinking of how fabulous Cinna will make Katniss, and ditto with Peeta. He did such a spectacular job at the Tribute Parade, I have no idea how he is going to top that.
Unlike at the Parade, Haymitch and I don't get a private room, we and all the other Escorts and Mentors gather in the same room to watch each of our tributes in turn. The other Escorts, some of the most glamorous in the whole of Panem, look me up and down disapprovingly and completely ignore Haymitch. I ignore their long stares and stage whispers as I make my way to one of the six screens in the room, Haymitch on my heels. The screen has no eyes on it, as all the other Escorts and Mentors are chatting politely to each other. With me being the newest Escort on the scene (and with me having my own style that may not be seen as fashionable to the others) nobody even tries to speak to me. We stand like the runts of a litter outside the cluster of people. Haymitch nudges me and tells me he is going to get himself a beverage, and so leaves me on my own, outside the pack. The seal of Panem is displayed clearly on the screen, and I pretend to seem interested in the intricate details of the seal and all it represents, when really I am not. I am watching out of the corner of my eyes the violet, orange and some even green faces that turn casually in my direction with evil smirks. Last year I hadn't cared what they thought of me, but somehow I feel extremely insecure. There is a large digital clock on the wall, the display is counting down until the interviews start, 10minutes until show time. My mind wanders to what Ceasar will be wearing tonight, as he always surprises with his colourful suits and extravagant hair colours to match. A glass of sparkling liquid is put in front of me by scarred hands,
"Have a drink" Haymitch says. I push the glass away and shake my head,
"No thank you Haymitch, I don't think you should be indulging in it either" I try to sound as normal as I can, but somehow I don't feel like myself, never mind sound like myself.
"Seriously, Effie , you seem very…"
"I'm fine" I snap, too quickly
"I may not be too smart, but I'm pretty sure you just used 'fine' out of context Sweetheart." He puts the glass closer to me "It's not gonna hurt you" I snatch the glass out of his hand.
"Fine" I say
"There you go, you used 'fine' correctly" I feel like I should tell him off for this sarcastic remark, yet instead a huge feeling of happiness overtakes my being, and I laugh, I genuinely laugh.
"Wow there Sweetheart, you haven't even taken a drink" Haymitch looks a little concerned, and this makes me laugh harder. Multi-coloured faces turn to watch my outburst. I hear them tutting and making other disapproving sounds. Unfortunately I seem to be finding everything funny, and I can't contain myself. I laugh for so long that by the time I contain myself I have bored the others and my sides are sharp with pain. I wipe the soft tears (the happy kind) from my face, and look to Haymitch to find the most amusing look I have ever seen displayed on his face. Luckily I stop myself from laughing again. I am still holding the glass of alcohol, and Haymitch reaches out to take it from me, but I pull it back. Haymitch raises his eyebrows in surprise, "You okay there Sweetheart? Don't think I've ever seen you laugh"
"Don't get to used to it" I say regaining my usual stance and I take a swig from the glass in a most un lady-like fashion.
"I always hate the interviews" Haymitch grunts. The screen before us lights up before I get the chance to ask why, but I'm guessing it's for the same reason that I myself am not a fan of the interviews. Making the tributes all sit together and smile and say how hard they are going to try and kill everyone else in the room while Ceasar sits and nods along with them. He does such a great job of it though; Ceasar can sit there and pretend to be rooting for each and every one of them. How much he and I are alike in a way, I am pretty sure he enjoys the games as much as I enjoy them. Though he gets more publicity and recognition for his part.
The anthem plays and the interviews begin.
Katniss is nervous. If only she weren't so nervous, she has so much potential in her fighting ability. Miraculously she manages to win the crowd over, and Ceasar has done such an amazing job of keeping her interview as positive as possible. And Ceasar himself looks dazzling in his royal suit. I also heard that he is recently single. I wonder what mother would think of a celebrity?
Where did that thought come from? How desperate does that sound? Anyway Katniss nails her interview and I turn to Haymitch when she is on her way back to her seat and the crowd are applauding her. My eyes meet his and it seems to me that he has been staring at me. Or maybe he was just waiting for my reaction?
"She done well" I whisper, as not to disturb the other Escorts as they watch my Tributes.
"Wait until you see the boy's" Haymitch grins.
Peeta is brilliant. At one point him and Ceasar ended up sniffing each other. Now the crowd had calmed down, and all eyes are on Peeta watching intently.
"So, Peeta, is there a special girl back home?" Ceasar asks
"Well, there is this girl I've had a crush on since forever, but I don't think she recognised me until the reaping" Peeta says.
"That's too bad, but if you go out there and you win this thing then she'll have to go out with you, right folks?!" Ceasar smiles and the crowd applaud.
Peeta's face drops and Haymitch puts his hand on my shoulder, as if he's on edge.
"I don't think that will help me" Peeta says
"And why's that?" Ceasar asks
"Because…"
Haymitch's grip on me tightens
"…she came here with me" what?!
There are cries from the audience and the camera focusses on Katniss' face, she looks shocked, even mortified.
"That's too bad" Ceasar says "and I wish you all the best" Ceasar shakes Peeta's hand and Peeta returns to his seat. I stare open mouth at the screen as Ceasar's face fades.
"Haymitch? What on earth just happened?!" I try to keep my voice steady but fail.
Haymitch smiles and then realises I'm not for having it, "The sponsors will need a little encouragement, we have a chance this year, Sweetheart, we have to do our best to win" He says.
"By lying?!" I say
"It's not a lie. Well it's not exactly a lie" He says.
"It's a lie Haymitch" I say walking away from him, "Have you not thought of how it would make Katniss feel?" I call back to him.
Haymitch replies as sarcastically as ever, "Loved perhaps?"