The Interviews, Part IV

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This is the last of the interviews! Next chapter: the Games!

Eleanor Royce, Victor of the 15th Hunger Games: District Twelve Mentor

Terra Whiskart seems likable, but not enough so as to earn sponsors. In fact, whenever it looks like she's about to smile, she stops herself. Her dark red hair covers part of her face, and she never meets Julius Waxis' eyes. She's reluctant to answer questions and shifts in her seat often. I'm grateful I don't have to mentor her. Difficult tributes are almost always impossible to aid once they've entered the arena.

Still, Terra seems clever, and that's a plus.

Hazel Evans, the boy from Eleven and Terra's district partner, is fourteen. He acts seven. Honestly, I can't imagine what Daniel Child and Annie Proctor – Eleven's mentors – will have to do to get these two sponsors. They may not do anything. They may have already given up on them.

I try my best not to lose hope for my tributes, but it gets harder with every year, especially with me being the only mentor for Twelve. It's stressful, and heartbreaking. This year, with a twelve year old, it's especially hard. And I like C.J. She's not the sweetest little girl I've met, but she also stopped her sister from volunteering for her, which, in my book, is the same as taking your sister's place willingly. She's noble, and I like that about her.

It'll be extremely difficult to watch her die.

Channing Keynes is a little easier to handle. He's eighteen, and a fighter. I can see the determination in his eyes. He volunteered for these Games; he's the first volunteer Twelve has ever had, and probably the last. I don't know for sure why he did it. I suspect Channing volunteered because he seeks revenge of some sort. He's an incredibly angry boy, but he's told me about his abilities and I believe he has something to offer these Games.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, Hazel?" Julius asks. Hazel shakes his head.

"Seriously? Uh-uh. No. How can anyone ever be prepared for the single most important moment of their life? If I make one wrong move tomorrow – just one – it could mean my demise."

At least he's honest. I have to give him that.

Following Hazel is Colleen Jane Colt. The first thing she says to Julius is, "I prefer C.J. Please," she quickly adds. The interview strategy we're going for is charming and elusive. C.J. has a strong personality, however, and I'm worried that charming may come off as sarcastic. And the Capitol detests sarcasm, especially about the Games.

C.J. does not reveal much about her family when asked, just as we'd discussed. She told me about Lorelei, her twin sister, and how everyone in her family – including her four other siblings – preferred Lorelei over C.J. It's incredibly sad, and even more so since C.J.'s closest friend, Tallie, died in a tragic accident in the district three years ago. After that, C.J. lost nearly all of her desire to live.

But she doesn't tell Julius or the audience any of that. She talks about her twin sister's best qualities, and to give Panem an idea of how hectic her home life is, she names all the residents of the Colt household: Rosa and Devin, her parents; Derrick, the oldest; Dana, the second-oldest; Ruthie, her younger sister, and Kyle, the youngest of the clan.

Perhaps the idea of so many mouths to feed will earn her sympathy sponsors.

Channing is not so mysterious. In fact, I've never seen him so happy. He's usually grumbling about something, sullen and hostile. But not tonight. On stage, Channing is actually smiling. He charms the audience effortlessly, even acts flirtatious.

"So," Julius says, and I know what's about to come. "You volunteered for these Games, Channing."

"I did," he replies, his face darkening for a moment before returning to its laid-back expression.

"The boy reaped was Michael Ferrell. Do you know him?"

"Not personally, no. I knew his sister, Lili."

"Lili Ferrell. That name seems so familiar..." Julius says. I can tell he remembers Lili, knows he has met her before.

"Because she was a tribute. In the 42nd Hunger Games. She didn't win." Channing has lost all of his previous demeanor. His face is stone, emotionless. But his eyes are full of pain.

"Were you close to Lili?"

"We were dating," Channing says softly. He doesn't mention Leon, Lili's district partner that year, and Channing's best friend. It was a terrible year for him, he told me on the train. I don't remember who killed my tributes that year, but I'm sure he does. And he's out to shed blood in their name, to win in their memory.

"Well, Channing, I wish you the best of luck tomorrow, as well as every other tribute we've spoken to this evening. Remember to tune in at ten a.m. to see all twenty-four of these tributes try their luck in the arena! I'm Julius Waxis, wishing you all a very happy Hunger Games!"

Giselle Lear, District One

My last meal in the Capitol isn't anything special; a steak in a pool of gravy topped with mushrooms. Lupus loves it; he finishes his plate in ten minutes. I can't eat, though. I'm much too excited for tomorrow. I doubt I'll be able to sleep, either.

I excuse myself from the table and go to the bathroom in my bedroom. In the mirror above the sink, I study my still-painted face. I haven't showered yet, though I know I'll have to before going to bed tonight. My make-up consists of strictly purple and silver hues. My hair is curled in large ringlets. I'm pretty, but in the Capitol sense. Personally, I prefer natural beauty.

My stomach is in knots as I undress and step into the shower. I let the rhythmic pulsing of the water beat against my back, massaging the tense muscles. I choose vanilla oatmeal body wash and a fruity shampoo. The result is baby-soft skin and citrus-scented hair. I opt not to use the automatic hair brush, which sends a current through your scalp, smoothing all knots and drying your hair simultaneously. Instead, I dry off with a towel and let my hair drip onto the floor as I get dressed in warm cashmere pajamas.

I look at the clock on my bedside table; 10:37. In less than twelve hours, I'll be in the arena. My mind races to different landscape possibilities, who I'll be positioned next to on the pedestals, ow big the bloodbath will be.

In twelve hours, I could be nothing more than a lifeless body, bleeding out after the betrayal of one of my allies. It could happen; none of us trust each other any more than we trust the other tributes. In fact, I should trust Luciano, Alecsandra and Terrian less than Lupus and Adele, though I suppose they're all capable of deceiving me into trusting them.

I shake my head. What a ridiculous thought. I trust no one but myself.