Action. The word rings in my ears and vibrates into my skull. It bounces around in my head. Hitting one side and flying across to the other end. My palms break out into a sweat and breathing becomes impossible. Everyone and everything merges together in a blur. The flooring underneath me moves in a wave like motion that makes my stomach churn. All I can focus on is the flaring red light that stares me down. It makes me feel as if I'm a squirrel staring into the hungry eyes of a coyote. Observing every noise and movement I make.
All at once, everything returns to normal as Cressida calls cut. The red light retreats to his den inside the camera. Cressida approaches me warily. I faintly hear her ask me what's wrong and surprise myself when I hear my voice reply, "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" she asks not convinced. "You froze up and we weren't able to get your attention. "
A wave of embarrassment washes over me as I imagine myself standing unresponsive in my living room having a stare down with a little bulb of light while the people gathered here talk at me.
"Sorry," I mutter with not a trace of sincerity in my voice.
"No. I shouldn't have expected you to be comfortable with being in front of a camera. I should know," she admits. "Besides, it's rare for a director to get to work with someone from the districts who's comfortable with the camera like Peeta is."
Rare to work with someone from the districts, like Peeta, who's comfortable being in front of a camera. How would she know that Peeta's comfortable with a camera? Unless, she's already filmed with him. I suddenly feel insulted and I'm not even sure why. Before I get myself worked up, I ask her to futher elaborate her statement.
"I don't usually work with Twelve, " says Cressida. That's expected. Being the poorest and most unappealing district, hardly anyone outside of Twelve wants to deal with us. "But this year, I personally asked to take on these two years."
"Why?" I ask, the word dripping in suspicion. Her expression changes to one of solemn.
"I looked through your file... and Peeta's," she adds lamely.
My file. I have a file? If Peeta has one, then it's safe to guess that every citizen in Panem has one. But what is in these files? What information does the Capitol have on everyone?
"When I read through them, I was intrigued. Right away I started thinking of the things that can be done to keep things interesting. I presented my ideas to the board and they gave me the job. They gave me permission to do what I want as long as the couple falls for each other in the process," Cressida grins.
I can't believe the Capitol would permit her to do as she pleases, just as long as the Star Couple falls in love. No one can force two people fall in love. No matter what position they're in. I've seen the people around the district. That is not being in love. That is settling for what was given to you.
It's like when you want a delicious dinner, but you were given boiled scraps. You either settle for the boiled scraps or you go on with an empty stomach. The choice is yours, but no matter what you do, that delicious dinner will never be a choice. That dinner is a rarity given to those who's odds were in their favour.
"I certainly hope so. Remember we're relying on you, Cressida," says Plutarch. He stands proud in the hallway that leads from the front door.
"I know, Plutarch," she says tiredly. I wonder how many times he's told her that since she was given the job. Many I'm assuming. "Okay. . . um . . how about this."
She crosses to the man carrying a steel grey clipboard. I watch them as they speaked in hushed voices. I can't make out what they're saying. Plutarch easily inputs himself into their conversation. I glance wryly to my family who stands off to the side.
Cressida stands before me again with things written down on a piece of paper. Instructions. She has me read them over and over until I know exactly what I'm suppose to do.
I'm centered in front of the cameras. As Cressida is about to call action, I take a deep breath to calm myself and I go over the writing on the paper one last time. The paper is snatched from my hands and then action.
We've shot at least fifty times. I can't seem to get a shot right. Even when I get it right, they make me reshoot it because I wasn't 'giving off emotion'. What emotion am I suppose to give off when all I'm doing is saying a few things while lifting a box and placing it on a blue X that has been taped in various places on the floor. Only one of the times we had to reshoot wasn't my fault. The tall man carrying a large microphone hanging from a pole accidentally held the pole too low and when we went over the footage you can see the microphone above me.
They finally call it quits when I snap at every member of the crew. Cressida and my mother both send me out on a walk to hopefully calm me down. Prim was about to join me when the man with the clipboard said it's best I go alone. I attempted to argue, but Prim, being the obedient one, stays behind as the man had advised.
When I return from my walk around the seam, I see my sister and mother seated in chairs that are centered in the living room. A man is packing up a camera that rests on the chair in front of them. I'm about to ask what was going on, but Cressida ushers me out saying there's no time to explain.
A car waits in front of my house. Its strange to see a car here. Here in the seam, where there aren't real roads. Only dirt paths coated with a thin layer of coal dust resides in the seam. It's a bit shocking that a car would drive onto our dirt roads. I would've expected these people to be fussing over the dirt and dust that has blanketed their car, but instead they calmly pack the cameras in the back of the vehicle.
At first, I think we're going to get into the car, but that doesn't seem to be the plan since we walk right past it. I turn my head to see the camera crew pile into the car and drive off leaving a small cloud of dust trailing behind it.
"Why didn't we go with them," I ask Cressida who walks beside me. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"I thought you would like some time to compose yourself before we shoot again, " she tells me.
"Wasn't that what the walk was for?"
"Yes," she says dismissively. We walk in uncomfortable silence until she asks me to point out the direction to the Victor's Village.
A guard stops us at the entrance gate that has Victor's Village written in perfect calligraphy on a sign on top of the gate. Cressida shows him some card and he lets us through immediately.
Happy Holidays everyone! I won't be able to update probably until next year because I'll be spending some time in my family's cabin in the mountains. Sadly, there is no internet or wifi up there, so I can't update. But...I will be able to write up a longer chapter. Please review! They motivate me and when I'm motivated I can get a lot more done. Bye!
~secretTHGluver~