Chapter 9

Once I was able to break away from Finnick, I headed over to Soma and Locke. I could see Haymitch talking to them. He was giving some last minute advice; going over our strategies and reminding them about our goals. I felt like I needed to hear what he was saying as much as they did. His role this year was not only to act as mentor, but to show me how to mentor myself. Knowing what he said to prepare the tributes would help me know what to do next year. I still felt inadequate surrounding the interviews. Any help was good. The thought of doing all of this myself the next year was frightening. Overwhelming.

As I moved through the backstage area I saw most of the tributes huddled with their mentor. I passed Quill who was crouched down on one knee talking to his twelve year old tribute. Judging from her face she looked worried and Quill was trying to calm her down. In the corner of my eye I saw Finnick return to his tributes.

A figure walked in front of me. It took me a second to recognize who it was: Celeste, the female tribute from District 1. Her long black hair was tied up into two buns. She wore a slender red dress that matched her rosy cheeks. She looked right at me with her fierce eyes. Her eyes could stop even the toughest competitor in their tracks. I felt glad I did not have to face her in my games. I was expecting her to scowl at me. After all, I killed both Marvel and Glimmer. Remembering that fact made my heart sink. I never liked killing. Instead, she smiled at me. I was taken aback. "Hey," She said in a quiet voice, looking over her shoulder. "Gloss said I shouldn't talk to anyone outside the career districts, but I just wanted to say, I'm a huge fan. I cheered for you even before the games started. You were amazing."

I did not know how to respond. It was not something I was expecting to hear, especially from the tribute from District 1. "Thanks," I muttered.

She nodded her head and hurried away towards Gloss. I watched her dart across the room until I caught Haymitch eyeing me from the far end of the room. He gave me a questioning look. I shrugged. I started to wonder if I had judged her wrong. I began to wonder if I knew anything. I continued through the room. I could see more of the outer districts in their groups, when something caught my eye. Flay, Johanna's tribute from seven and Rictor, Cecelia's tribute from eight were off to the side. They were conversing with each other, neither of their mentors were in sight. Flay looked relaxed, but the scowl on her face remained. She wore a red and black dress. Rictor's stance was awkward. He wore a dark blue shirt with no tie. The top button of his suit was unbuttoned so you could see the scar on the left side of his neck clearly. I could just faintly hear them speaking.

"Can I touch it?" Flay asked.

"No," Rictor said. He had a deep voice, but I was struck by its softness. Flay moved her hand towards his neck, as if she did not hear him. He sighed, pulled his shirt open slightly more, and said "fine."

Flay delicately placed her fingertips on her scar. He turned his head away, staring at the empty wall. Flay kept her fingers still, before tracing them across his neck. As she reached the end of the scar, Rictor swatted her hand away.

"That's enough."

Feeling like I had been there long enough, I kept moving. I did not want to cause a scene by getting caught snooping. It was hard to tell what I had just witnessed. The whole thing was confusing. Why were these two tributes acting so close? The general rule is to keep them as separate as possible. Otherwise, it might be difficult for them to kill the other. I'd seen them briefly conversing before, in the training area when I delivered Soma and Locke. I also remembered Johanna and Cecelia whispering to each other during the Chariot Rides. I wondered if they had set up an alliance. It made sense. The careers were tough this year. I wondered whether I should inform Soma, but I decided it was best if I consulted Haymitch first. I was out of my element.

When I finally reached the others I got a full view of the outfits Cinna and Portia had prepared. Locke wore a white suit with a black trim. Cinna had given Soma a nearly identical braid in her hair that I had during the games, except a few feathers stuck out the back from the top of the braid to make it look more formal. She wore a dress similar to mine from the interviews the year before except it had a very distinct blue color instead of my red. "How do we look?" Soma asked, after noticing I was looking over their outfits.

"Amazing. I'm really impressed." The comment got a smile from both Locke and Soma.

"Cinna and Portia are the best weapon we have." Haymitch said. "They saved your sorry ass," Haymitch directed at me. The tributes had a laugh at my expense.

We went over what we had prepared a couple more times. When the interviews were about to start Haymitch directed me to go watch them. I wanted to stay, but he promised me I would be no help if I stayed. There was a rare advantage of having two mentors, since we could both watch and prepare them. After a bit of protest, I headed over to the exclusive mentors balcony. It was directly connected to the backstage area. The slick walls of the new theatre were spotless, like no one had touched anything at all. My shoes echoed as I stepped on the pristine floor.

The theatre itself seated more than a thousand. From the balcony, I couldn't see a single empty seat in the house. Only a few of the mentors were there. Most preferred to be with their tributes backstage. On the far right side I saw Enobaria and Gloss sitting casually. Sitting with them was Finnick who gave me a wave. I rolled my eyes and headed to the far left side. The only two mentors of the outer districts on the balcony were Ayda, the mentor for District 9 and Warren, the mentor for District 10. They both greeted me with a nod but said nothing. I sat next to Ayda and starred down at the stage. It was beginning.

Caesar looked as ridiculous as ever. He wore a flashy orange suit and a matching orange hairdo. He looked like a pumpkin. The first interview was Celeste. She sat with confidence and poise. When asked about her place at the top of the Quarter Quell rankings, she brushed it off by saying, "it shows the intelligence of the Capital, since clearly I am going to win."

When it was Daro's turn, the male tribute from District 2, he was asked about being in second in the rankings. Daro's response was to bang his fist on the couch. "It's stupid!" He exclaimed, "I should be number 1. I'm not about to lose to some stupid girl." I figured he was trying to come off as intimidating, but instead he came off as aggravating.

"Well, someone has a temper." Warren commented.

"That doesn't bode well for the career alliance." Ayda agreed. I leaned over to see if there was any response from the career mentors, but Enobaria and Gloss continued to speak casually to each other, as if nothing had happened. Their confident pageantry was not going to be broken by something as simple as a little outburst.

None of the next few tributes stood out for me. Finnick's male tribute kept doing this thing where he'd wink at the audience, but it looked unnatural. Finnick's face tensed up each time they did it. The twelve year old from District 5 started to tear up when Caesar asked her about home. Caesar tried to comfort her but when that did not seem to be working, he wrapped up the interview early so she could get off the stage. It was hard to watch. I felt a tear drop steak down my check. I remembered my sister's face as she was dragged towards the stage right before I volunteered. There was no reason a sweet girl like her should be in a place like this.

Ayda shook her head. "Quill never had a chance with her."

I leaned in when Flay took the stage. I hoped for some proof of my earlier suspicion about her and Rictor. In the beginning, she sat straight, her scowl filling her face. Caesar's questions received simple and direct answers. It's when the conversation turned towards strategy that things became interesting.

"Tell me Flay," Caesar began. "How do you expect to handle this year's arena? As you know, it will be made up of six previous arenas?"

"Well, Caesar, I'm not too worried. It means I have six winning strategies I can copy."

"And which one do you think is the best?" Caesar asked.

"Easy. Katniss. And not just hiding in trees, stocking prey, and taking out supplies."

"What else could you mean?"

Flay turned her head towards the cameras. For the first time, a smile crept onto her lips. I sat back in my chair, confused about what she could be hinting towards. "She did not let the games change who she was. She could have easily have forgotten about Peeta and never looked back, but she didn't. She still went looking for him. That's why we all love her. She allowed herself to grow and trust those around her. She formed bonds. She found meaning and a purpose beyond surviving. Without that she would have never have won. I want that."

I stared down at the stage with my eyes wide. She made my time in the games sound grand, and I the great hero. But it was not true. I did form bonds with my fellow tributes, but she failed to mention how they both died because I could not save them. I failed them. I was no hero. This Flay girl had praised me, used my popularity in her interview to her advantage. She was using the same interview strategy we had planned for Soma. This was Johanna's doing.

The next interview of note was Rictor's. He slouched slightly as he sat down. His hands were clasped together tightly on his lap. Caesar did not beat around the bush. "Rictor, we're all dying to know, how did you get that scar?"

"A fire."

Caesar leaned in close to Rictor. "Is that all you're going to tell us?"

Rictor nodded. "Yeah, that's all you're getting."

I thought he might lose the crowd without giving more, but they seemed content. I found myself disappointed in his response. I was still curious as to what might have happened to him. I wondered if it was Cecelia's plan to keep it a mystery. I also considered since he was from District 8 it could have been a factory fire or something that the Capital would not approve being mentioned. I was also disappointed because neither he nor Flay said anything about having a potential alliance. Flay had mentioned my bond with Peeta but that may have been just to gain favor with the Capital.

After the District 11 male left the stage my leg began to shake. My nerves were starting to get to me. When I saw Soma step onto the stage I could barely watch. She sat down with grace, something Effie must have taught her. "So, Soma," Caesar began, "How are you liking the Capital?"

"It's great. It's so pretty and everyone is very nice." Soma said. Her voice sounded higher than normal. She was nervous so she was straining her voice.

Caesar nodded his head. "And the best part?"

Soma glanced around before replying, "Can I be completely honest?"

Caesar flashed one of this large smiles. "By all means."

"Getting to be here with Katniss."

"Wow, Katniss sure is popular. The Capital loves her, Flay loves her, and now are you saying you love her too?" Caesar asked in an exaggerated tone.

"Absolutely. She's better in person than I could have ever imagined." Soma twirled her thumbs. "And, I want to win for her."

I hung my head. I felt sick to my stomach. I could not watch anymore.

Locke hurried onto the stage with a bounce of energy I had learned to expect from him. He plopped down on the chair with childish abandon.

"Locke, how's it going buddy?" Caesar asked, matching Locke's energy. Caesar gave no sign of any fatigue even after conducting 23 consecutive interviews.

"Good!" Locke exclaimed. "I'm feeling confident!"

"Confident! That's great, why don't you tell us why you feel so confident?"

"Because I know I'm going to win." Locke explained. The crowd responded with a mix of laughter and applause just as Haymitch had predicted. Locke looked out at the crowd and flashed them a big smile. "Laugh all you want, I'll be the one laughing at the end when I win!" The crowd answered back with full applause.

It made me smile to see the crowd react that way. It took a second for me to realize I was also crying. Tears began to stream down my face. In a daze I touched my cheeks. I was happy he was happy, but at the same time his happiness made me sad, because he did not have long to enjoy it. This was it. Tomorrow they'd be in the games. After becoming a victor I learned something valuable. There is no winner of the Hunger Games.

When I looked back up I saw Finnick standing directly in front of me stretched out leaning against the railing. He blocked out my view of the theatre, but that also meant he was blocking their view of me. He stared off into the distance. "You shouldn't let them see you like this. Don't worry. It happens to all of us."

I stood up and hurried off the balcony.

It was quiet once we returned. A solemn lull lifted itself up from the Capitol and filled District 12's floor. I watched the city through one of the windows. Its flow continued, like blood passing through veins. And the next day, it would continue too. The same could not be said about everyone in the room. Even if, by some unimaginable miracle, Locke or Soma was crowned the victor of the 75th Hunger Games, the 3rd Quarter Quell, then only one heart would continue beating. The other would be lost. Still. Fading away into memory.

The new rankings were released before we even returned. In the final order, Soma moved up one spot. Locke did too. 18th and 22nd. We may have done our jobs, but what good did those two extra spots give us? Flay, Johanna's tribute, moved up back into 3rd place; her strategy of appealing to people's love of me paid off. It made Soma's interview seem played out by the time it got to her. We had not thought about the order when we planned our strategy. We should have expected someone would try the same thing. It was foolish. We were foolish. And we squandered the only chance we had in giving her an advantage during the Games.

The other two in the top three of the tributes were Daro in second and Celeste as first. We were informed before the Games began that the top tributes would receive an advantage depending on their rank. This was all we knew, but it was unsettling in itself. Finnick's year showed how devastating an early advantage can be.

Still, it wasn't the rankings that worried me that night, it was our final goodbyes before the Games. Haymitch, Effie, and I were to be relocated to the Hunger Games Headquarters. Our time to say something to Soma and Locke was limited. In the morning, they would be brought to the arena without us. We'd already be watching a world away, working to get them sponsors. Any last encouragement or statement needed to be said then. Once we were gone, anything we wanted to say, any advice we wished to give, would only be indirect; a suggestion in the form of a hard fought sponsorship.

As the evening dragged on, our inevitable farewells weighed on me. In this moment, of any moment, I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be the fearless girl on fire; the girl from the Seam who was able to beat the odds. But I knew, no matter how strong I may be, my strengths meant nothing here. I was a cog in the machine of the Capitol sending these kids into the worst place on the planet: the Hunger Games. I might as well have reaped them myself. I allowed it all to happen. I was responsible.

It was Effie who finally spoke first. She stood up, trying to hold in her emotions. She spoke generally at first, speaking about her year as the escort of a victor. She described how it changed her. She no longer wanted to be the escort of anywhere other than District 12. She also knew loss after the last Hunger Games. One of her perfect tributes was gone. She had an appreciation of what could have been with each gone tribute. So, she wished, earnestly I believed, that both of them could come home. Her eyes, however, were squarely focused on Soma, the proper girl. Her care for Locke may have been contained in her words, but the sentiment did not travel nearly as far.

Haymitch was next. He raised his glass in their direction. Keeping it simple, he said the same parting words as the year before: "stay alive." Soma and Locke nodded in acknowledgement, understanding the sentiment.

Then it was my turn. I'd known what I wanted to say for a long time. They were not my words. They were his. No matter my bow skills. No matter my survival instincts. No matter how hard I fought. It was the real reason I won. It was the reason at the end of the Games, at one point there was three of us on the cornucopia, and then there was one. "No matter what happens out there, I want you to be true to yourself. I want you to show that even in the Games there's still you." They stared at me blankly, not completely understanding my words. It didn't matter. Nothing could be done then.

I walked over to Locke and brought him into a hug. "Give them hell."

"You got it."

Then, I went over to Soma. As I approached, her eyes seemed deep and infinite. She dashed forward tightening her arms around my back. I brought my arms over her shoulders, holding her as close as I could.

"Thank you Katniss," she said. Her voice was emotional, tinged with fear and regret.

I pulled her in closer. I did not want to let go. I did not want to let someone else go into the arena. I was done with this. I was done with the Hunger Games. I didn't want her to die. I didn't want anyone else to die. The emotions I'd been holding back, those terrible things eating away at the back of my mind, they came forward then. Bursting through the levys. I began to cry. "I'm sorry," I said, choking on the words. "I wish I could save you. I'm sorry."

Soma, the kind and gentle girl from the Seam, placed her hand reassuringly on the back of my head. Here I was, her mentor, and she was consoling me before her Games.

"I know Katniss. You did everything you could."

Afterword:

Next chapter the Games begin.

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Till Next Time -Nyhlus and BJ