DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games or any of its character. All right belong to Suzanne Collins.
Chapter Eight:
I emerge from the steamy bathing room, hair still damp despite my attempts to dry it with the towel that rests around my shoulder. I rummage through the wardrobe, searching for something though I know Titania will probably force me into a suit to practice proper posture and such for my interviews. My interviews, I mentally sigh thinking of how the entire day will be spent with my mentors and that blue haired woman. At least Clove will be there suffering through it with me.
Breakfast passes quickly, as Titania rises eagerly in the middle of the meal and promptly drags me and Clove by our wrists into her quarters.
She is well prepared, as is the room. She has the two chairs that normally take up the area by the grand windows placed directly next to each other as well as a silk, red dress and a shiny, black suit draped over the edge of the plush bed. A shockingly long list of key points lays upon the side table between the two, muted green chairs, as well as a crude looking stick, with which, I would presume, you correct posture.
"Take a seat! Come, come, don't be shy." Titania calls, gesturing to the bed and to the chair opposite the one she slides into. I fall into the vacant seat, and Clove seats her lithe frame on the bed, therefore facing me directly, but she seems more fixated with the peculiar hairstyle and ensemble our escort has worn today. "Cato! Please, put on the suit if you insist on going first!" I shrug, just wanting for this day to be done with already, and follow her order.
Once I am again seated, Titania asks if I have had practice with these events before, and I nod, grin plastered onto my face. She then instructs me to sit up tall, and I do so, already knowing that I would see the woman beam at my perfect form. She runs me through how to sit in different occasions and how to walk properly, but I really do not learn much. I already know it all. I trade seats with Clove sure of my abilities to present myself as I want to Panem.
Clove however looks absolutely terrified as she sinks into the seat, meekly shaking her head when Titania asks if she had any practice beforehand, flushing a deep red when Titania clucks her tongue distastefully. Our escort directs her to dress in the outfit she laid out. She slips out of her clothes and into the dress without her back turned, giving me a full view of her chest. But I surprise myself by not fully focusing on her breasts, but I focus on her ribcage; her shockingly prominent ribs and how lean she really is.
I do not mention it, but Titania exclaims, "Why are you so dreadfully thin!"
Clove flushes once more, but looks Titania in the eye as she responds, "I would go days without eating back home so my twin sister could live."
"Well, why didn't you just split your meals?"
Clove sadly shakes her head, "Cassi has a muscle degenerative disease that will slowly kill her if she doesn't receive the proper treatment. I wouldn't eat so she could get her medicine."
Titania and I both stand in shock, until our escort manages to be the first to speak, "Well, is it better now?"
Clove shrugs, "I get one meal per day from the Center, that's basically it. Jayla is our source of money, and she has her meal at where she is... employed. So all our money goes to Cassi's care and a little extra food to put in our cabinets." A small smile graces her face, "One week, I smuggled all my food home so Cassi could have it and I could take a small part of Jayla's earnings. That was my deal, money in exchange for food. I was eventually able to buy my first knife, and all it took was going to sleep hungry for 6 days."
"Oh, Clove, I-"
"No, I don't want your pity. It was totally worth it." Clove's smile is oddly genuine, as are her words.
We are left in silence, until I eventually make the connection, "That's the knife you wouldn't let your stylist take, isn't it?" The way Clove's eyes light up in pride and glee tell me all I need to know, "It's a good one. Almost dainty, yet strong. Just like you." Clove manages to smile even brighter, and the color that rises to her cheeks matches the hue of her dress.
Clove learns fast, and soon she can walk in the stilettos Titania makes her wear with the floor length gown. The posture, too, was easily mastered by the diligent and determined Clove, and our escort was soon shooing us from the room claiming, "You two will make District Two so proud!"
Lunch is downed as quickly as breakfast, though Moe is patient enough to wait for me to finish. Enobaria, however, is crabby with boredom, and jerks Clove up from her seat as soon as she slides into the chair. Clove does not seem greatly bothered by the fact she does not get to eat the food on her plate. As she said before, she is used to but one, meager meal a day, so I'm sure going without lunch will not be to much of a strain upon her.
Moe leads me to his room, where he has two chairs set up in a similar fashion to how Titania had. I am slightly let down by the lack of Clove's presence, but I know it will be easiest to prepare this way. I follow Moe's lead and take a seat.
"Okay, Cato. It's pretty obvious how to present you. Solidly built, frightening cockiness and confidence, startling ease with weapons, a bad temper that often gets the best of you, a drive to succeed at what you focus on; you're the monstrous boy from District Two, and that is how you will be portrayed to the Capitol. To the world." Moe states, without a shadow of doubt in his voice, and I wholeheartedly agree.
It takes some time for me to grasp this identity, even though it is so familiar, because I 'must not make the Capitol believe I also want to kill them all after I return from the arena.' Well that's absolute bull, because there is nothing I'd rather do than to spill precious little Capitol blood the way they have in our Districts. But, I need the sponsors, so I do as Moe instructs me.
I am let go early after Moe runs through the questions Caesar Flickerman will be most likely to ask and deems me beyond ready. I wander the floor without a purpose, until I hear 2 voices screeching in the background. Clove and Enobaria.
I turn, smirk on my face, heading back to Enobaria's quarters.
XxXxXxXxX
"Come on! Just one typical persona! Please!" I hear my trainer's voice plead. Enobaria pleading, that's a first.
"I told you! I'd be no good at sullen because no one care about the lifeless small girl." There is a slight pause, until Clove lashes out again, "Even if the girl is a Career and got a 10!"
"Okay, but that only rules out sullen."
"Well, sexy will be blown away by Glimmer; Cato's doing the angry, brutal approach; and do I look like the girl who can gab, flirt, or gush? No!"
"Stop being impossible!"
"I'm being realistic! I'm nothing like that!"
"Just fail for all I care!" Enobaria snaps, and the room falls into a silent lull in conversation as my mentor stalks out, brushing past me, too angry even to care I was eavesdropping. I peer into the room and my eyes instantly land on Clove, who sits in her chair, arms crossed protectively across her chest. I walk in, and am met with a stony glare.
"What do you want?"
The third word is stressed so harshly, dripping with such distaste, I am taken aback. I try to send her a smirk, but my expression morphs into a scowl, "I heard yelling so I came to see if you were okay, is that such a problem?"
Clove's frown slips into a slight pout, and her hands fly to her face. I hear a heavy sigh escape her, and am taken taken aback by the defeat in her tone as she murmurs, "Please, just leave me alone. I don't want to talk."
I let out a sigh of my own, and slip out of the room as silently as I walked in.
XxXxXxXxX
"All done! That wasn't so bad, now was it?" My least favorite prep team member chirps happily as she packs away her hair trimming kit. I am at a loss for what she could've been doing for an hour after that horrible waxing treatment I received four days back.
"Let's call Suzanne!" Louis once again exclaims, and he and Alexia race like children out the door. Francesca carries the grooming supplies out the door, closing it delicately behind her.
The door is thrown open violently by my frantic stylist, screeching, "Oh, we are so late! The interviews start in an hour and a half you know! What were they doing to you!"
I shrug, unsure of what my baths in green and purple slimy grit did to me, not unsettled in the least about us being behind the Capitol's master schedule. I am more concerned with what was wrong with Clove last night than I am about being on time for the interviews.
Suzanne attacks my face with a container in one hand and a makeup applicator in the other, mumbling to herself about how minimalistic she would have to go. Fine by me. The less makeup the better. Once there is an even coat applied to my face, Suzanne snatches a suit very similar to the one I wore whilst my training with my escort and helps me into it. As she places my orange tie around my neck, she murmurs, "Don't mess this up for yourself. You show promise, and somehow, you're different from the rest." I hear Moe yelling for us to come quickly, and Suzanne pushes me towards the door, calling, "Make your District proud, Cato. Do it for your father." I stare back at her, and see her misty eyes and know that she's not one of those Capitol people who just suffered a loss of a victor, but she knew him. I nod, small smile on my face, and leave the room.
XxXxXxXxX
"3 minutes until the interviews begin!" I hear a Capitol accented voice shout and I press up against the wall where we are told to wait, Clove standing tall in front of me and the girl from Three cowering behind me in my shadow. I smirk almost happily and start whispering to Clove.
"What's your angle?"
"Mysterious yet lethal. You?"
"Brutal, bloody. That sort of scary vibe."
"It suits you." is her less than steady response, and I smirk, knowing I have stricken Clove with slight fear, but fear nonetheless.
I hear Caesar Flickerman being introduced, and Clove tilts her head to look me in the eyes, the grey in her own flickering, almost changing, and mouths 'good luck' as we start to move forward.
"Good luck, Clove." I murmur back to my District partner as Glimmer struts out onto the stage.
The cheers are deafening as the pair from One emerges, and the lights prove equally as assaulting to the senses as we step out, too. Clove stumbles, and I stretch out an arm to steady her, "Easy now, Clove." She springs forward as i make contact with her skin, and stalks to the third chair in the ring of 24 that surrounds Caesar and an empty seat for the interviewee. I smirk easily at the crowd, behind Caesar's very amusing, over exaggerated movements to pull reactions from the crowd. Once even the tributes of Twelve are seated, Caesar begins talking about the whole process. I sit passively in my chair, waiting for something to happen, for Glimmer, in her extremely provocative dress, to cross the hardwood stage and waste her three minutes delicately dancing around the questions so she can answer them in the way that she wants to attract sponsors. So then Marvel can do as he pleases, and Clove can pull off her angle, so I can just get my interview done.
"And now, for our first interview, Glimmer Czarinano!" Caesar eventually calls, and the blonde does strut flirtatiously across the stage, flaunting off her chest, though not much is left to be imagined through the see through, golden and glittering fabric. Her interview is almost pointless, a flurry of winks and warm, flirtatious smiles; the only point she hammers home is that she most certainly is single. I almost find myself laughing, biting down hard on my cheek to prevent it, as the statement is most blatantly false.
Marvel tries the same cocky attitude he had when we first got to the Capitol, and with this much longer face time, it fails. He looks like a boy who isn't the persona he tries to pull off, he is cowering behind a personality he can't properly fulfill. And the 3 full minutes of this may be more hilarious than Glimmer claiming she's single.
"Next, Clove Flare!" Caesar booms much too excitedly as he smooths his pale blue hair. Clove takes her place, the fabric of her orange dress wrinkling beneath her. He greets Clove happily, and she gives him one of the sweet smiles she's only shared with me while we've been here, and I find myself... jealous? No, I can't be jealous over Clove, I don't care for her that way. I can't.
"So, Clove. What's your favorite part about the Capitol, so far?"
"I... The lights. They are so, so amazing. I've never seen something so bright. Now I know there's nothing lurking in the shadows."
Caesar continues with trying, to no avail, to fish out responses he can work off of from questions centered around the Capitol and the Games, which Clove responds she's prepared for, until Caesar starts asking about Two.
"So, how was life growing up? Splendid, like the tributes of One?"
Clove shakes her head, "Far from good. I don't like to talk about it, and neither do my sisters."
"What about your parents? Were they not good to you?"
"My father was not sane the years leading up to his suicide, and I never met my mother. I survived on my own," She gives a wistful smile that is almost a smirk, yet something softer, "That's why I will survive. I am strong, and I will prove it. I will win these Games because I need to."
The buzzer dings, and Caesar snatches her hand, raising it as he bellows once more, "Clove Flare, everyone!" She rises, smiling softly, and takes her seat once more next to Marvel. She really did capture the essence of mystery, as she wouldn't delve into the reasoning behind some of her peculiar statements, and her 10 in training was proof enough that she was lethal. I almost miss Caesar shouting my own name, but cross the stage confidently after only a moments hesitation.
"Hello, Caesar," I greet as I sit in a laid back manner in the white chair. He says a pleasantry in response, but I am trying to get a feel of the crowd. I look out over them, and see some are bored, others talkative, and some are teary eyed after Clove's story. They are far too emotional here; I hope they aren't brought to tears seeing the son of a passed victor. I need to grab their attention with a captivating, yet scary performance. I turn back to Caesar in time for the first question.
"Cato, are you or are you not the son of Jacob King?"
The crowd gasps in a distressed manner, and only one thought forms in my mind, Screw you, Caesar.
I immediately try to regain hold of the situation and drive them away from pitying me, so they will fear me, so they will think I will win these Games, which I will, without a shadow of a doubt. "Yes Caesar, which is exactly why I will win. All my life I have wanted to follow in his footsteps, and I have trained for this moment all my life. And I will win, for him."
Cheers ring out in the audience, and I smirk at them confidently. Caesar even seemed pleased by my answer, he didn't need to ask another question so the audience could see my true character, for I had done enough myself.
"Well, I'm sure that your father will be watching you these next few weeks. The whole world will be watching!" Caesar exclaims happily, and the crowd cheers back. "So, tell me about this training score. Second highest in the Hunger Games! Any hints about what you did?"
I shake my head, shark-like grin on my face, "No Caesar, I'll just let you be surprised tomorrow. But I will say that my kills will be quite memorable." I turn to the tributes behind me and let my gaze flit across all of them for an equal amount of time. They all cower behind my gaze save the Careers, and Clove even smiles.
"Now, Cato. Do tell, what will be your strategy? Will you side with the careers?" I bite my cheek again to prevent myself from laughing at this redundant question. Did he not see how the Careers smirked at my words? Of course we are allied!
"Yes Caesar, the traditional alliance is secured. We will stay together until I start the inevitable breaking apart."
"You will start this?"
"Of course! As my father said, people are only of value until they prove their worth. Once they prove their worth, and they know the extent of their abilities, they will do anything to undermine those in power."
"Oh, so you're the leader?"
"But of course!" I smirk, "I am the strongest, and I am the most prepared. I'm a ruthless killer and ready to go, and now there's no trainer to hold me back."
The buzzer sounds, and the crowd erupts in an ecstatic uproar. I give my shark like grin once last time, before turning to go back to my chair next to Clove and the still shaking girl from Three. "Good job." Clove whispers as I fall into the chair. "You too," I smile back, and Clove almost blushes as she turns back to the next person to be I interviewed.
The tributes blend together, each with the same value and each as interesting as a piece of blank paper. No detail, just a nervous wreck of a child who quakes when a question is thrown their way. Even the ever diligent Caesar can't get a response out of the mute, crying girl from Six, or get the sly girl from Five to answer any of his questions in a straight forward way, or ease the crippled boy from Ten into talking without a quaver in his tone.
The little girl from Eleven is preciously small, like a tiny little treasure you need to keep a firm grip on at all times to even know where she is. She sits quietly, and pulls off a humble, innocent angle that even I believe must be her real personality. She is extremely polite, even thanking Caesar as she flutters back to her seat after the buzzer sounds for her, too.
Thresh. My blood boils when I hear his name, and Clove stiffens beside me as well. Glimmer seems extremely agitated yet embarrassed, yet Marvel doesn't seem to register the presence of the giant man. He looks asleep, fighting off unconsciousness as the night drones on. The 18-year-old answers Caesar's questions with a single word, sometimes a simple sentence when it involves his home life, but the man is sullen and boring as he rumbles his responses. They reverberate in the building, though, and you almost don't have a choice but to listen to his words.
"Next up, the lovely Katniss Everdeen!" Even Marvel is angered now, I at the point of seething silently through my teeth. The 'lovely' tribute happily walks to the stage, and smiles brightly, her eyes fixated, staring pointedly at a certain section in the crowd. We glare as she talks about her favorite part of the Capitol, and Clove begins to shake as Caesar brings up the eleven in training. Even Glimmer seems more irritated now, and we all scowl at the girl as she obliviously continues.
Soon, Caesar brings up Katniss' gem covered dress, and she leaps to her feet to give everyone a better view of her gown. She says something about her stylist, and then she begins to twirl. The line between the stones starts to blur as she spins, and it begins to look as if flames are engulfing her legs. The audience gasps and cheers and shouts and Clove makes a sound like she's coughing up a hairball, and I let myself chuckle softly. The camera won't pick it up if they're so focused upon the spinning girl in the center of the stage.
The 'Girl on Fire' as Caesar calls her, then falls into the announcers waiting arms, giggling about how dizzy she was. Marvel murmurs something about disbelieving her score. "He thinks they typed in the 1 key twice by accident," Clove informs me, and I smile yet again. It wouldn't surprise my after this ditzy, yet shallow performance.
She humanizes a bit as she talks about her sister, and it brings back that unfamiliar feeling I got when I realized I wouldn't volunteer for my brother. But, it does nothing to improve my view on her, I still am angered by her very presence.
Not soon enough, the girl's buzzer sounds. She leaves, small smile on her face, and her District partner is beckoned to center stage.
This Peeta character calms us all, and we are also perplexed yet amused by his antics. The first question is about the thing here that is farthest different from his District, to which he responds, 'The frighteningly puzzling showers' The crowd is eating out of his palm as he and Caesar go back and forth, sniffing each other for they both believe the other smells more like roses than themselves.
They then begin talking about if Peeta has a special someone, to which he half heartedly replies with a no.
"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"
Peeta sighs, and proceeds with the classic heart felt story of loving a girl forever, yet she hasn't known he had existed until he was reaped for a vicious fight to the death. Okay, in retrospect, it's not totally cliche.
"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar encourages, but Peeta remains downcast as he tells his interviewer and the whole of Panem it won't help him if he wins, for she came here with him.
The crowd is silent, taken aback, as are all the tributes, except for me. I sit there, frozen, paralyzed with absolute rage. I have always hated the pity vote, and of course this year it will go to the tributes who pose the greatest threat to me with their scores and the sponsors they already have lined up.
I block out the ending conversation between Peeta and Caesar, hoping, praying, yearning for the moment the sun will rise once more so the 74th Games can begin; because with all this anger, I have more fire than the tributes from Twelve.
Author's Note: Eep! Sorry sorry sorry it took so long! I had writers block! :P
Hope this chapter is satisfactory and reviews make me post faster... And they make me smile. :)
(\_/)
(^.^)o The bunny will give you a virtual hug and I will thank you in my next author's note if you review for me!
o(")(")
