"Orange," says Pinguida, stressing the long "o."
"Orange," Cass and I repeat simultaneously.
"No, no, no," scolds Pinguida, "you're saying ah-range. And keep your mouths closed more; you're saying 'orange,' not eating one!"
"But why do we even need to learn how to say 'orange'?" interrupts Cass, purposely ignoring Pinguida's pronunciation tip. "This interview isn't going to be about fruit."
"It doesn't matter!" says Pinguida, clearly exasperated. "It's just a rule of thumb."
For the past couple hours, Pinguida has been lecturing us on the basics of manners. The interview tonight is my last chance to make a good impression on the Capitolites, and I want to score some sponsors. First, Pinguida taught us some kind of meditative breathing, which, in all honesty, really helps calm my nerves. But it just got worse from there.
Next, she made Cass and I walk about a thousand times back and forth across the room while she tried to fix our walking style. Apparently, to Pinguida, the five-meter walk from upstage to the interview chair is the be-all-end-all of our success in the Hunger Games. Cass, fortunately for him, was a natural at walking. He got to sit out while I took another couple hundred circulations of the floor—with heels. After about the twentieth time Pinguida commented that I needed to make my walking style more feminine, I lost it and shouted at her, "Well I'm sorry that I have muscles!" Cass let out a huge snort, and Pinguida gave up on trying to get me to walk like a girl.
All the while, Pinguida kept getting more and more frustrated at the two of us. Her face got as red as the spots of rouge on her cheeks, which started to run due to her sweat. She trained us on good posture by balancing books on our heads; she forced us to speak loudly by going into another room while we spoke prewritten phrases. But after ten minutes of shouting ridiculous things such as "prudent parents in Panem pray to the President," we found Pinguida in the dining room stuffing her face with strawberry pie.
Finally, we have a lesson on pronunciation, but being from the districts, Cass and I do not have Capitol accents. This infuriates Pinguida so much that she gives up and sends us to our mentors. "The two of you are impossible!" Then she leaves the room muttering something about a hot tub and grapes.
Enobaria and Caldus help us decide on our interview strategies and angles. Mine is simple. I'm tied for the highest training score, so I just have to talk about my skills and strength. However, Cass poses a trickier problem. His score of 7 is the lowest of the Careers, so a lot is at stake in this interview. He definitely lost potential sponsors due to the score, and this is his last chance to gain them back. After quite a lot of murmuring to themselves, Caldus asks Cass, "What do you think of the Capitol?"
Cass pauses. "Um…other than the fact that the Capitolites are sadistic murderers, it's a pretty nice place to live your final days."
"Ok," says Caldus, "we can work with this. Now repeat after me, 'It's always been my greatest dream to visit the Capitol, and volunteering for the Hunger Games has made it come true.'" Cass grimaces. "Seriously," Caldus says. Cass repeats it, and surprisingly, it sounds genuine.
"See?" says Caldus. "You sounded like you meant it. That's your biggest strength—you can lie through your teeth, and people believe you. Now, at the interview, I want you to praise the Capitol, the people here, and anyone who has helped you get here back at home. Pretend you love it here. Trust me: they're hungry for any sort of admiration, and they'll believe you if you feed it to them."
The final stage in our preparation for the interviews is our outfit. My prep team, the Claudias, does a full cleansing and then applies a light coating of makeup on my face. It's very different from last time. Instead of looking intense and striking in dark gray, my eyelids are simply dusted with light purple eye shadow, and my lips are also tinted delicate purple. Claudia Tertia paints my nails with delicate purple flowers—asters. I smile at her, and she smiles back.
When Claudius enters the room, he's carrying a large bundle of purple fabric. As soon as I put on the dress, I have a feeling of déjà vu—I recognize my outfit from somewhere. The soft, lavender fabric fits loosely over my torso and hangs in folds and creases until it is gathered at the waist with a sash of the same color. Then it tumbles over my legs in a silky cascade until it just brushes the floor. The sleeves are meant to slip off my shoulders, but invisible straps that cross around my neck hold the dress so that it doesn't fall off.
It is beautiful. And it's Victoria's.
I stare at Claudius in disbelief. "I love it, but—are you even allowed to reuse ideas?"
"It would definitely be a firtht, but there'th no rule againtht it," says Claudius with a shrug and a smile. "I had a feeling you'd like it."
Ten years ago, I watched Victoria's interview. She strode out onto the stage with a grin wearing this exact dress. Well, not exact. Hers was pure white, and it was stunning paired with her wavy, golden hair. Victoria captivated the audience with her good nature and good looks. When her buzzer sounded, signifying the end of the interview, the audience even called for an encore and booed when Caesar Flickerman didn't allow one.
I doubt I'll be that remarkable, but I do wonder how this outfit will go over in District 2. Everyone watched Victoria's Games, and they definitely saw her in the dress. My wearing a copy of it could conjure up illegal memories of her. I don't know if Mother can take it. For years, I've walked in on her crying in the broom closet. When I ask her what's wrong, she makes up an excuse like she lost her favorite hat or something along those lines.
"I had to alter the thizing a bit," continues Claudius, "and I uthed purple chiffon instead of white in honor of your name."
"It's still amazing. Thank you," I say, and I walk over and hug Claudius before Pinguida arrives to escort me backstage. Cass is already with her. He's wearing a plain, heather-gray suit and a shirt that matches the color of my dress. But as I look closer, I can see jagged lines of purple fabric criss-crossing the gray jacket and pants. Cass looks like a metamorphic rock.
"Amethyst veins in volcanic stone, to be exact," he says, practically reading my mind.
"You look great," I say.
"As do you." I wonder if Cass remembers that this was originally Victoria's dress. If he does, he's doing a good job hiding his thoughts.
The interviews kick off with Auriana. She struts downstage in a close-fitting gold dress draped with a golden veil and proceeds to chatter away about fashion. I try some of Pinguida's breathing exercises to calm my nerves. I'm not really worried about the interview itself, just about Victoria. The Capitolites seem to have no problem talking about her or any of the dead tributes, but she still doesn't exist according to District 2. I wonder if it's all right for me to mention her here in my interview, if the district government can still punish me from miles away. If I die in the Hunger Games, I'll be forgotten along with any of my comments, and it won't be a problem. But if I win…I may still be forgotten for mentioning a nonexistent person. I decide that the dress says enough.
"Welcome, Aster Stein, District 2!" shouts Caesar Flickerman, the interview host. That's me—I'd zoned out through Jasper's entire interview. I stand up and walk downstage, hoping that Pinguida approves of my walking style this time. It doesn't matter—the audience, which fills up a stadium-sized auditorium, is applauding and whistling for me anyway. They must have been impressed with my training score. My family, however, is probably sitting in front of the television at home staring dumbstruck at my purple gown. I sit down in the chair next to Caesar.
"That 10 yesterday is a mighty strong score, Aster," begins Caesar. Good. He started talking about the score immediately, so now I don't have to guide the conversation myself.
"Yes, I'm very happy with it," I say. "I think it shows my abilities very well." The Capitolites cheer more, and I focus on maintaining my smile while they quiet down.
"And what exactly are those 'abilities'? I think we're all dying to know!" The audience lets out another loud cheer at this in agreement.
"I throw the spear." The Capitolites ooh in admiration.
"Ah, the spear," says Caesar. "Once, when I was a young boy, I took up spear throwing as a hobby." Then he grimaces. "Old Mrs. Felina never forgave me for what I did to her cat." Laughing breaks out across the auditorium as the audience realizes that Caesar must have impaled the cat or something. "But you seem to have mastered the skill! Certainly you deserve to be here, Aster?"
"Actually," I say, "there's someone who deserves this chance even more." I'm going into the arena tomorrow, and this is the last thing I can do for her. "My good friend, Regina, always dreamed of competing in the Hunger Games and visiting the Capitol. She's even more skilled at knife throwing than I am at spear throwing." I face the audience, hoping there's a camera zoomed in on my face so that it would look as if I'm talking directly to Regina. "Regina, you deserve this so much more than I do, and I hope you forgive me. I'm sorry."
"That was—that was touching," says Caesar, wiping a pretend tear from his cheek. "By the way, Aster, you look so beautiful tonight. Do you happen to have a 'special' friend waiting at home for you?"
I blush a deep red and lower my eyes. However, the crowd sees my embarrassment and starts to whistle and cheer.
"I'll take that as a yes," says Caesar. "Well, whoever he is must be lucky to have a lovely girl like you!" Then the buzzer sounds, and I stand up, thank Caesar for the interview, and walk back to my seat around the edge of the curtains.
The rest of the interviews go by in a blur. The Capitolites love Cass as he praises the Capitol's buildings, food, and atmosphere. I also get a better look at some of the tributes. I recognize the girl from District 7 as the one with the thick glasses, but for the interview, she's replaced them with contact lenses. The boy from District 9 looks fairly muscular compared to the other non-Careers, and he actually complains that his training score doesn't accurately represent his abilities. I also notice that the girl from District 11 is even taller than Caesar. The District 12 tributes are named Matas and Miele, and they are in fact brother and sister.
When we get back upstairs to the District 2 quarters, I'm exhausted. As I lie in bed, trying in vain to fall asleep, I can't stop wondering what it will be like to kill someone. It's no question that I'll have to do it. I just hope they'll be remembered.
So, how do you like the story so far? Next chapter will be the beginning of the Games. Review please!