A/N: Without further ado, I bid you the next chapter!
"Let me get this straight. You two want to work together?" Drake asked, disbelief flooding his voice.
"Well, that's what I said isn't it?" I told him, smiling.
"Yeah, but are you sure? I mean, I don't think anyone's ever done that before," Drake continued uneasily.
"Sure they have," Fabian said. "There's always a Career pack."
"I guess. But we should focus on interviews today," Drake said firmly. Fabian and I nodded, shoveling the remains of our breakfast into our mouths.
"Okay, well you need to sell yourselves to sponsors," he told us. "Capitol people can't tell the difference from something real, and something fake."
"So, show them what they want to see?" I asked quizzically.
"Exactly."
"Okay, so I get the theory," I said. "But what do we actually do?"
"That's the thing. Different actions work for certain people," Drake explained.
"Like, you could be all hostile or likable, and both work," Fabian said.
"Yeah. The trick is, finding the one that works for you," Drake said. "Like last year, I acted easygoing and everything. Joking. Actually, that would probably work for you Fabian."
Fabian beamed up at him, this was his natural territory. He'd been playing practical jokes for as long as I could remember, and It wasn't uncommon to see Fynn or Storm coming into school covered in groosling feathers.
"What about me?" I asked.
"Hmm... You could pull off sweet and girly, but I think you suit sarcastic. Witty," Drake said.
Witty. I could try it, I guess.
"What do you think will be your biggest advantage in the arena?" Drake asked. We were running through questions, fine-tuning our answers.
"Uh," I was dying to say my telekinesis but I knew I couldn't. The Capitol would know. They'd kill me. "My... te- my aim." Stupid, stupid, stupid! At least this wasn't the real interview.
"I'm sorry what did you say?" Drake asked, looking at me seriously. This was no act.
"I said my aim," I repeated, trying to sound confident.
"Before that. You said 'te-' what was the rest of the word?" Crap.
"Uh," I sighed and walked over to Drake and Fabian. "Telekinesis," My voice was soft, barely a breath. But they both heard, and their eyes widened. I could tell Drake wanted to throw hundreds of questions at me about it, but I gave him a look.
"So this is what Fynn told me about?" Fabian asked uncertainly. I nodded. Drake continued to look questioning.
"You can't tell anyone. People knowing killed my mother," I explained to Drake. He nodded. This, at least, he could understand. A desperate situation.
"Okay, well Fabian, what do you think your biggest advantage will be in the arena?" Drake asked.
Drake threw questions at us until lunch, and then we had etiquette training with Pixie – not something I would normally do, but it wasn't like I had much choice.
"Heels? Seriously?" I asked Pixie, raising my eyebrows.
"Of course!" Pixie said, looking a bit baffled about my resistance to the subject. Fabian was working with Drake still, but I could swear I heard him snicker.
"Ugh. Fine. This better be worth it," I told Pixie reluctantly.
About three hours later, Pixie had me sitting like a "Lady" and walking in heels. Never. Again.
"Thanks Pixie," I told her, trying to act sincere (Apparently, Drake was right about Capitol people not being able to tell the difference between fake and real)
"Oh, no problem Shadow, really. Just remember what I told you!" How was this girl so optimistic? Did she not realize she was sending us off to possible death? How could someone ever be that ignorant?
"I will. Bye," I said, trying not to be flighty. And failing miserably.
"Wake up!" A shrill voice demanded, which I recognized a Nea, from my prep team. Sure enough, Dessa, Nea and Heidi were crowded around my bed, a cart full of makeup products beside them.
"What? No breakfast?" I muttered.
"You're going to love your dress for the interviews!" Dessa gushed, pulling me out of bed. I groaned inwardly as they set to work.
I stood mute for most of the day, as my prep team made me unrecognizable. I was covered head to toe in makeup, something I'd never even thought was possible. My hair was styled and left down, straight and smooth for the first time in my life. I had heavy purple eye makeup and bright red lips.
"Fabulous," Minnie nodded in approval. They had just fitted me into a dress, which I actually liked. Not that I'd admit that to anyone.
It was a midnight blue in colour, draping just past my knees. It was accented with a belt of black ribbon and a silver necklace with a black heart on it. The shoes were – as I'd feared – towering black high heels. But apart from that, it was something that I would actually wear. Sure, I'd rather be in shorts and a T-shirt, but I had a feeling that would be the last thing I could wear in the Capitol.
"Wow," I breathed. As much as Minnie annoyed me, I had to admit she did a good job.
"You like it? I was going for the whole 'playing up your name' thing," she gushed excitedly.
"Yeah, it's brilliant," I assured her. I didn't really want Minnie as an enemy – for all I knew, she could make me wear pink.
"Well, come along now, you have to get downstairs for the interviews!" Minnie chirped.
My heart kicked into fifth gear as we walked up onto the stage. I saw two chairs set out in the middle of the stage, one of them occupied by a thirty-old man, who I recognized as Tim Flickerman. He wore a ceremonial suit, midnight blue – like my dress – but it had thousands of tiny light bulbs on it. His hair was jet black.
The girl from District One went first, and it was obvious she was doing everything to get sponsors. The sad thing is, the crowd ate it up.
Many of the other tributes were the same, but I thought the girl from District Two stole the show. She had people yelling for her and everything.
It seemed like aeons before I was finally called.
Three minutes I thought to myself. You have three minutes to save your own life.
"Shadow Freeman, welcome!" Tim said, shaking my hand.
"Hello," I said. I seemed calm on the outside, but on the inside, I was scared. Petrified, actually.
"Well, let's get straight down to business," he said when the crowd stopped applauding. "An eight in training! A good score for someone your size."
"Well, you could say that," I said. Trying to be modest.
"So what do you think your best strength in the arena will be?" He asked.
"You'll have to find out, won't you?" I said cheekily. It worked better than I expected, the crowd was going crazy, begging to know my secrets.
"You're not going to give us a clue?" Tim asked.
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. Let them wonder.
"Okay then, what about your home? District Eleven?"
"I love District Eleven," I said. "But looking at this place, it needs a re-vamp." The crowd laughed along with me, exactly what I wanted. Compliment them. Let them know not too much about you.
"And I thought we needed to be redecorated," Tim said, chuckling.
"Oh, yeah, you really need one," I said, laying on the sarcasm. Tim let out a low chortle, and the audience followed his lead.
"You're too kind. But come on, you must miss it," Tim insisted. Trying to get answers out of me.
"Of course I miss it," I began carefully. Talking about myself wasn't something I wanted to do. "It's home."
Tim smiled. "How about your friends?"
I don't want to tell you, I wanted to answer. You don't need to know.
"They're amazing," I told him. "But I'm only saying that because they'll be watching now."
Tim laughed along with the audience, and didn't press the question further. Thankfully.
"Well, Shadow, before we have to go, do you think you stand a chance at winning?" he asked.
"Of course," I said. "This isn't the last you'll see of me."
The buzzer went off, and I walked in a daze back to my seat, waving and smiling at the crowd. Trying to not show any true emotions.
Smile and wave. Don't think about anything else, I told myself.
I tuned out for most of Fabian's interview, half out of fear for him. I only noticed that he made the crowd laugh a lot.
"I will win," Fabian said fiercely.
"Of course you will!" Tim said enthusiastically. Then Fabian's buzzer went off, and it was District Twelve's turn.
I didn't notice much of the girl, just that she was softly-spoken and wasn't really making an effort to win anything. but the boy – Ryne – was extremely loud and boisterous. He refused to be ignored.
"... And that's why I'll win," he concluded. So naïve, like Pixie. If he won, I'd have to die. And I was nowhere near ready to die.
The anthem played, and sooner than I could believe, we were back on the eleventh floor, eating dinner.
"What's it like, in the arena?" Fabian asked. Drake looked up from his food in disbelief.
"Impossible to describe."
It had to be possible. Surely. "Then give us some advice."
"Don't get into a fight too early," Drake said seriously. "Hide out. Don't risk your life too much."
"Isn't the point of the Games to risk your life?" Fabian asked.
"The point of the Games is for us to die," I muttered. "Living takes more effort."
The entire table looked at me. I felt as though I could shrink to the size of a mouse in the one moment. But I still spoke. "It's true, though."
Drake began talking strategies again then. "Try to stick somewhere where you feel somewhat comfortable. You guys worked in the orchards, right?"
And it continued like that until we were sent to bed. My brain was still trying to process all of these different things I had to do. But I could at least know one thing.
Tomorrow was the 11th annual Hunger Games.
I could be dead in less than twenty-four hours.