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Chapter 10: Announcements

As soon as we enter, I can tell that I grossly underestimated the size of the coliseum. There are people everywhere. The stadium is shaped like a circle, so the crowd's cheers can be heard from all sides. I see giant screens mounted on tall pedestals in the middle of the floor. The screens are currently showing a picture of the Minnesota representatives who are in the car ahead of us. I look out into the sea of people closest to our car. Most of them have their eyes trained on the screens, but some of them notice Charles and I. They point fingers at us and applaud. I smile and wave to them.

A voice over a loudspeaker booms, "From Mississippi, Charles Midden and Corenn Alexander!"

The huge screens suddenly cut to our car. We both flash wide grins. I muster up every ounce of courage to keep from shaking. I'm glad my arm is wrapped in Charles's so he can keep me steady. Just fake your way through it, I tell myself. I raise my gloved hand and the audience goes crazy. Most people were already standing, but a few stragglers jump out of their seats now. Charles waves to a nearby camera, and I bat my eyelashes. The crowd loves it. As our car travels slowly along, people in the audience call to us. They ask us to smile for their camera. They ask us to blow them kisses. I even see a few people waving poster boards that support us. I take special care to acknowledge them. They made those signs before they even knew how we would look tonight.

The big screens flash to the Missouri representatives who look nervous and terrified. Apparently, they don't make the same impression as Charles and I because the screens cut back to us often. We circle the entire stadium. Once we are back where we started, the driver turns toward the center of the huge floor area. We park at a designated spot amid the other representatives' cars. A girl in a fluffy blue dress shoots me an angry look. She isn't the only one. I stiffen, and Charles pats my hand.

"Don't worry about them," he whispers. "They're just jealous."

I smile at Charles and try to relax. The cameras are still turning to us from time to time. I know I have to stay composed. Kade is watching me. I also know I'm terrified that the other representatives seem to see Charles and I as threats. I guess they think our good show tonight will draw us more sponsors than them. We'll only have sponsors while we're still alive, I think angrily. I shiver as I realize the other representatives are probably thinking the same thing.

I try to look only at the screens. Charles seems to be handling all of this well, though he has sweat running down his face. I'm impressed with his performance. I hope that he has some unknown prowess with weapons. With a lot of sponsors, a little talent, and a truckload of luck maybe he could win the Games. If it can't be me, then I want it to be him.

We sit silently, and wait for the rest of the representatives' cars to enter the stadium. I make myself smile continuously, and when I see myself on the screens, I wave. Soon, my repetitive actions get tiresome. There are too many people here. Too many who are supporting this senseless sacrifice of human life. They are letting Alanton win. They are going to give money to this charade, and they're going to root for us as we kill each other. I can't believe how far my fellow Americans have come from the united country we once were. I feel my smile slipping, so I try to think of something else.

When the Texas car enters, the audience goes into a frenzy. Miller Hughes wears a black suit with a red tie. It is very simple, but it complements his naturally handsome features. Even I have to admit that he is impressive. The woman from Texas looks gorgeous in her red gown, but she sits quietly with her hands in her lap. I admire her courage. I would be afraid to ignore the crowd like she does. I wonder if Alanton will count her inaction as a "refusal to cooperate". Miller is interacting with the crowd enough for both of them. He stands in the backseat of the car and waves with both hands. I am amazed that he can keep his balance. He bends down to the floorboard and stands back up with a bouquet of red roses. He begins throwing flowers one by one to random members of the audience. He completely ignores his fellow representative. The crowd calms down a bit when the Texas car parks and Miller sits down. The screens still show him often, though. Much more often than they show Charles and I. I guess our moment in the spotlight is over.

When Wyoming's car finishes its lap around the circle, the announcer gives one more opportunity for everyone to take pictures and cheer for us. After a few minutes, he asks for silence. A platform begins to rise from a small space between the screens. I see a man standing on it, holding a microphone. When the crowd sees him, they start cheering again, despite the announcer's attempts to keep them quiet. I recognize the man from tv interviews and advertisements, but I can't remember his name or position. He is a short, white-haired man with a big mustache that looks cartoonish. He wears a white suit with a pink tie. I almost want to laugh. I hear Charles give a light chuckle. I guess this man has been on television often since the reapings because the audience seems to know him, but none of the representatives do. I see a lot of them raising their eyebrows, and some smirk at the man's comical appearance. I note with pity that a few of the representatives don't seem to notice him at all. When the platform stops moving, the man is towering over us. He taps the microphone, which sends a loud squeal through every speaker in the coliseum. I put my hands over my ears, and I hear groans from people all around me.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The little man says. He has a high pitched voice that trembles slightly. I can't tell whether the shaking is from nerves or excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he begins, "I declare the First Annual Hunger Games officially in session!"

The crowd roars. The little man clears his throat and waits for them to quiet down.

"My name is Thaddeus Pumpernickel." He announces. Charles and I both giggle quietly. "I am the Head Gamemaker, and Master of Ceremonies for this evening's event!"

The crowd claps for him again. I exchange a questioning look with Charles. I'm not sure what a Head Gamemaker is, but it sounds like he has a high ranking position in the creation of these Games. I try to see something sinister about him, but I find nothing.

"The arena I have created will showcase both the strengths and weaknesses of each representative," he continues. "There will be non-stop action, and non-stop coverage for the entertainment of viewers at home. America will be the first to attempt this foray into a new realm of reality television. I can assure you, America, that these Hunger Games will never be forgotten!"

The crowd cheers. I am shocked at their callousness. It's like we're not even real people to them, I think. They're treating us like we're just actors on a tv show.

Thaddeus waits for silence again. "Tonight I will make a long-awaited announcement," He says, and the audience gives a collective gasp. "I will disclose the prize package for the 1st ever Hunger Games winner!"

Of course, the crowd is ecstatic. I sigh. I wish they would just shut up so we could get on with this.

Thaddeus pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. "Firstly, I will announce the prizes for the winner's home state. I ask that you hold your applause." He stares at his paper for a long moment. "I hereby declare that the winning state's citizens will receive a full year of exemption from all state and federal taxes. The 49 states whose representatives do not win will receive an increase in both state and federal taxes to balance the amount that is excused from the winning state." I hear a few boos in the audience. I am surprised that there isn't a stronger reaction. Most of the people here will get a tax increase. That usually ticks people off. Then, I understand why. I see uniformed men scattered all around the crowd. None of them have their weapons drawn, but they all make it very obvious that they have one. The few people that dared to express their dislike are handcuffed and towed away before Thaddeus continues.

"The winning state will also receive a Sustenance Grant. This grant entitles each household to one hundred dollars every month for the purchase of food items. This grant will be given in addition to any assistance the household may already receive. The tax increases for the losing states will also cover the costs of the Sustenance Grant." The audience sits in silence. I stare at Thaddeus in disbelief. I'm not a mathematician, but I know that if a large state wins -like Texas- then the rest of the country will be financially destitute if they have to cover all of those costs.

Thaddeus continues to stare at his piece of paper. I begin to wonder if he is also unhappy with the prizes. The small amount of his mouth that isn't covered by the puffy mustache is turned down in an obvious frown.

"Secondly," he announces, "are the prizes for the winner." He pauses and looks for the first time at the representatives in the cars surrounding him. "The victor will win a house of his or her choice, to be bought or constructed, within the borders of the continental United States. The victor will also be given a monthly allowance of fifty thousand dollars for the remainder of his or her lifetime. This allowance may be spent at the victor's discretion. A vehicle of the victor's choice will also be awarded to him or her, and a replacement vehicle will be provided every five years, as long as the victor lives."

Thaddeus folds up his paper and places it back in his pocket. He clears his throat loudly, which sends the microphone squealing again.

"Oh dear," he says. "Perhaps next year I will pre-record this announcement in order to spare your eardrums." The audience laughs lightly. Thaddeus seems to realize that he has made a joke, and he grins. "This concludes the announcement of the prizes! Now give your representatives another round of applause as they leave the stadium!"

The audience seems to have regained its good humor. They cheer and clap as the screens cut away from Thaddeus and on to the representatives' cars. The cars file out one-by-one, and it seems like forever before our car reaches a point where no cameras can see us anymore.

Charles and I both exhale loudly. I realize I'm still holding onto his arm.

"Sorry!" I say and quickly let go.

Charles smiles tiredly. "Don't apologize, it was my idea."

I slide down into the backseat so I can rest my back. I don't care if my dress gets wrinkled now. Charles slides down beside me and tries to move my skirt out of the way.

"Oh, just sit on it," I say, and Charles laughs.

I am so relieved that the ceremony is over. I take off my gloves and shoes, and I toss them into the front seat. The driver looks back and gives me a small smile. Charles unbuttons his suit coat and takes it off, throwing it on top of my shoes. He lounges in the seat and closes his eyes. I rest my head on the side of the car and appreciate the silence. I think tonight went as well as it could have, and I try to be happy about it. The announcement of the prizes weighs heavily on my mind. I know it won't affect me, but it will affect my family. I wonder how they will survive with the extreme tax hikes. If only Mississippi could win. Our state really needs the financial help, and the population is small enough that maybe it wouldn't burden the rest of the country too badly.

I look at Charles. His eyes are still closed, so he can't see me examining him. I glance at his arms, which are decently muscled, though they can't compare to Miller Hughes' giant arms. Charles carries a bit of extra weight around his middle, but that could help him stay alive longer if he's faced with starvation. I wonder how fast he can run, and I decide his long legs could probably cover a lot of ground. In the middle of my analysis, Charles opens his eyes. I quickly look away.

"What?" He says.

"Nothing," I reply without looking at him.

He sits up and rests his elbows on his knees. "Were you deciding how to kill me?" He asks seriously.

"WHAT!" I yell. The driver slams on the brake and looks back at us. When he sees that nothing is wrong, he rolls his eyes and continues on. I stare open-mouthed at Charles.

"It's okay if you were," He says.

"But I wasn't!" I retort. "I was just trying to decide what physical advantages you have."

"So you'd know how to kill me?" Charles asks. This time I can tell he's joking.

I punch him on the arm. "Because I need you to win, stupid."

Charles looks taken aback by my answer. His face soon dissolves into a painful expression. "I can't win, Corenn. Surely you know that."

I bury my face in my hands. "No. I don't know that," I say. But I do know. Deep down I know there is really no chance for him to win. Mississippi won't have a victor this year.

Charles puts a hand on my shoulder. We ride in silence until our dark green house comes into view. The door is open and light is spilling out onto the lawn. I see shadows milling around the doorway, and I wonder what fresh horror is waiting for us there. As soon as we pull up to the house, we are bombarded by our coaches and stylists. Elias reaches me first and helps me out of the car.

He gives me a quick hug. "I'm proud of ya," he says.

Before I can reply, I am swept into James's arms. He tells me how beautiful I looked on tv, and says that I will probably have a thousand sponsors by morning. His speech is slightly slurred. I notice a champagne glass in his hand and roll my eyes. Lissa plants a kiss on my cheek, and even Marda gives me a congratulatory handshake.

"Do you want to watch the replay?" James asks me as we walk into the house.

"Mostly I just want to get out of this dress," I say blandly, and I head for my room.

James walks up the stairs with me, and I am soon lounging contentedly on my bed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a green t-shirt. James expertly hangs the dress and puts it in a large garment bag. We go into the bathroom and he removes all of my makeup. When he's done, he insists that we go downstairs and watch the recap of tonight's event.

In the living room, Marda and Lissa are giggling while refilling their glasses with champagne. Charles and Elias sit on the couch and silently watch the television. On the screen are Kevin and Richard. They discuss the most memorable fashion statements made by the representatives tonight. They mention a beautiful girl from North Carolina who wore a daring violet dress. They also show a picture of Logan Reinhart, looking very handsome in a gray suit. Miller Hughes is discussed, of course. An adorable girl from Ohio wears a bright shade of pink. The Alaska representatives look striking in white, and the man from California wears a complete suit of sunny yellow.

Then, a photo of Charles and I flashes onto the screen. Charles is winking while waving at the camera, and I am blowing a kiss. Kevin and Richard declare us the standouts of the night. They discuss the brilliance of our stylists for coming up with themed outfits. They play a pre-recorded interview of James, where he explains every step that went into designing my dress. I laugh. Now I see why James wanted so badly to watch these recaps.

Everyone claps for James when his interview is over. Lissa offers Charles and I a glass of champagne, but we refuse. We decide to go into the kitchen and raid the cabinets. Our skipped dinner has caught up with us. I find a box of crackers and a bottled water. Charles makes a huge bowl of cereal. We sit at the table and try to eat. James and Lissa rush into the dining room to tell us every time we are mentioned on tv. At first I am pleased to know that we are mentioned often, but after a few minutes I get a bit annoyed with the interruptions. Once Charles is done with his cereal, we take my box of crackers into the living room and share it on the couch.

Marda has obviously had a bit too much to drink. She doesn't seem to notice that her lipstick is smeared, and her balance is severely impaired. Elias tells her to take her high-heeled shoes off, but Marda seems to think he wants her to take off the rest of her clothes too. She plops down in Elias's lap, and he spits and sputters so much that Charles and I nearly choke on our crackers while we laugh. Elias stands Marda back on her feet, but she doesn't take the hint. I completely ignore the television for the next few minutes. Marda and Elias are much more entertaining. Marda's advances become serious enough that I remind Elias to lock his bedroom door before he goes to sleep.

Marda sits on the couch beside Elias and wraps her arms around his neck. He gives me an exasperated look.

"Can ya help me out here?" He asks.

I pop a cracker into my mouth. "Looks like you're doing fine to me," I say.

Charles chuckles loudly, but he abruptly turns it into a cough when he sees the look on Elias's face. After a few minutes, Marda switches her advances to James, and Elias relaxes on the couch.

"Oh you're not really my type, sweetie," I hear James tell Marda.

Elias looks at Charles and I seriously. "I think it'll probably be best if we don't mention any of this to her in the morning," he says.

I picture myself teasing Marda about her drunken antics. Then I picture her beating me to death with her pointy shoe. Charles and I both nod our agreement. We won't say a word.

After Lissa spills a drink down the back of Elias's shirt and Marda breaks a lamp, I consider going to bed. There's no telling at what indecent hour our training will start in the morning. Just as I decide to head upstairs, Kevin and Richard say that the President wishes to make a short statement. The screen switches over to a brightly lit room containing a large desk and chair. Verilius Alanton sits behind the desk, looking stony faced. He has his hands folded in an attempt to be casual, but he can't fool me. Everything about this man screams danger. I hold my breath, fearing any statement that he would take the time to make himself.

"My fellow Americans," He begins with a sneering smile. "It has come to my attention that some of you are unhappy with the prize package for our Hunger Games victor." He leans forward in his chair, looking directly into the camera. "Unfortunately, it will not be changed. I urge you to devote every dollar of support that you can to your state's representatives. Your sponsorship may help them to succeed and therefore earn the prize package for your state." Alanton relaxes, but his face conveys anger. "It seems to me that my announcement of the First Annual Hunger Games was not taken very seriously. Only one state submitted a voluntary representative. I assure you that my words are to be taken as fact. Perhaps next year, every state will have volunteers that will be equipped to bring home a victory. I will not take pity on you for your lack of preparation. The losing states this year will cover every dollar of the winning state's taxes and Sustenance Grant. I expect the 2nd Annual Hunger Games to be quite a show." He snickers evilly. "Good night, America, and may God help you."

The screen cuts back to Richard and Kevin, who look very pale. They stammer and clear their throats before continuing with the program. Elias pats my arm and stands up.

"Well, on that note, I think I'm gonna hit the hay," he says and looks at me. "Don't be up too late. You've gotta get an early start in the morning."

I immediately jump up to follow him. So does Charles. I notice that Marda, James, and Lissa look far less festive than before. They mutter "good night" to us, and we trudge up the stairs.

When I lay down, I fall asleep immediately, even with the President's statement echoing in my mind. Today was long and tiring, and I don't expect tomorrow to be any better.