10

Prim was worthless. Completely worthless.

No one said a thing in response to her score of one. Not a single other tribute had gotten a one. The next lowest score was a four! A four!

Haymitch watched her with narrowed eyes. Was he angry? She waited for him to say something—to attack her character or to give her up as a lost cause. Instead, he said, "Well, we'll just have to work extra hard to prep you for your interview."

That didn't help much. What good was an interview when she'd already stamped herself with failure. What is Katniss thinking?

Prim crawled into bed and, because no one could see her (she hoped), she pulled the blanket over her head and hid. A secret place. She imaged herself back home, just for a moment. A small luxury. She could almost feel the weight of Buttercup's fluffy body settling in for the night at her feet. She pretended, for one long breath, that she wouldn't be in the Arena in two days. She'd be home, with Mom and Katniss.

All would be right.

The next morning, Prim woke to reality. It punched her in the gut and she couldn't help sniffling through the morning. But, with a firm breath and renewed determination, she started training for her interview with Effie. They went to Prim's room where Effie handed Prim a full-length gown and high heels. Prim reached for the dress with careful fingers. Finally. Finally she'd be wearing the beautiful clothing of the Capitol—not the overly-colored clothes or the weird dyes, but something elegant and beautiful.

She sighed and Effie helped her into the dress. It was too long and the heels too high, but Prim couldn't help the enormous smile that spread over her face as she teetered in front of the mirror. "Look at me!" she squealed.

"You, my dear, are a natural." Effie's hands were clasped in front of her and she looked ready to hug Prim.

They spent the next four hours working out the details of etiquette—never hold the dress above the ankle. Straighten the knee when taking steps in the heels. Don't blink too much. Don't adjust the top with every movement. So much to remember!

Halfway through, Effie switched Prim's high heels out for a shorter heel. "That goes better with your age, dear."

Prim didn't complain. As lovely as the high heels were, they were difficult to walk in and they pinched her feet. How did Effie do it every day?

Prim went through a million different smiles, a hundred different polite phrases that felt odd on her tongue, and practiced her curtsy until she felt sure her knees wouldn't hold her up another minute.

"Excellent. They'll absolutely love you!" Effie helped Prim out of the dress.

Prim put back on her training clothes and slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers. But she stopped at the door. She didn't want to go practice with Haymitch. What would he make her do? Say?Effie patted her on the back. "Off you go. He won't bite. You'll do fine." Why didn't she sound confident?

Prim stepped through the door and passed Peeta in the hallway. He winked at her. Okay, he survived. Effie was right—Prim would be fine.

"Hey sweetheart," Haymitch drawled as she walked into the dining room. "Hungry?"

Prim nodded and plopped into a seat across from him, helping herself to a roll. Haymitch watched her eat until every bite felt like swallowing a river rock. She avoided his gaze—was he going to comment on her awful training score?

It didn't matter, she didn't regret her actions. She was proud of herself. Katniss would be proud - she'd know Prim did something meaningful, like stand up to the Gamemakers...wouldn't she? - even though it's not what Katniss would have done.

"Right now, people like you because you're innocent."

Prim looked up from her half-eaten roll.

Haymitch continued surveying her. "But that's not enough to get them on your side, to get them to sponsor you. They like you, but no one thinks you're a survivor." He leveled his gaze. "Are you a survivor, Prim?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Well, at least you're honest." He scratched just under the hairline on his forehead. "What are you surviving for?"

Prim frowned. "I'm not going to survive."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about your chances of survival. I'm talking about what's driving you. If you could survive, why does it matter?"

Prim reminded herself that he wasn't attacking her character. He was prompting her, helping her, in preparation for her interview. "For Katniss. And for Mom." And for Buttercup, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"Why?"

"Because Katniss loves me and it would kill her if I died." Her throat closed for a moment.

"Why?"

"Because I'm her only sister! We take care of each other!" But Katniss had Gale now. She'd be fine.

"That's better—family bonding. They got her screams on camera, so we could run with that."

Katniss would hate that. She'd hate seeing her weakness displayed for the world to see. But she couldn't stop it now—she already had to watch Prim go into the games, so her pride was probably the last thing on her mind.

"Tell me about your mother."

Prim didn't want to talk about Mom. She didn't want to reveal that Mom had cocooned herself in her sorrow for years, or that she was probably doing the same thing now that Prim was gone. "She's a healer. She helps people get better when they're sick. She's strong—" at least she was strong…at one point, "—and brave. I look just like her and everyone says she's the prettiest woman in District 12."

"Good, good." Haymitch was smiling now. He continued to ask her about her family, about Buttercup, about Lady her goat. The more Prim talked, the more she calmed. There was power in her story, in her family. It revived her.

But it also made her want to survive.

The next day arrived in a swirl of color and clothing. The prep team popped into Prim's room before she was even awake. She yanked the covers up to her chin with a squeak, but they didn't seem to mind. They were gushing about her upcoming interview, and how amazing she looked on the chariot.

No one said anything about her low score.

Cinna swept in once Prim was showered, primped, and make-uped. He took one look at her face and then thanked the prep team. "I'll take it from here."

They swept out with squeals, waves, and parting shouts like, "We'll see you at the interview!" "Good luck, darling one!" and "You're stunning!"

Once gone, Cinna touched up her make-up—meaning he wiped most of it off and fixed it so that Prim looked like herself once again. "You're so beautiful all on your own, you hardly need any make-up."

Prim smiled at him, wishing for a moment he'd give her a hug. A warm, firm hug like Father used to give. Instead, he unzipped a bag on a hanger, revealing a knee-length silk layered dress the color of cream with yellow accents.

"It's just like a primrose," she whispered, running her fingers down the soft, fragile material.

"I'd hoped you'd notice. The people of the Capitol don't know quite as much about gardening, but the color just seemed to match your gentle spirit perfectly." He smiled with such genuineness his gold eyeliner crinkled.

The neckline was a wave of dips and curls, ending in two thin straps that capped over her shoulders. The glistening heels had barely any lift and were easy to walk in while still feeling elegant. Prim twirled and watched the dress billow around her in the mirror. She loved it. It was perfect…and she still felt like herself.

"Are you ready?"

Prim nodded and Cinna helped her out of her room and into the elevator. Peeta looked dashing in a suit and Prim wondered again, for a moment, how he and Katniss knew each other.

The elevator descended and spilled them out near the back of the stage. Prim's heart fluttered and she secretly celebrated the fact she wouldn't have to go onstage until after all the other tributes except Peeta.

They filed on stage and took their seats. She caught Rue's eye—who wore a lovely gossamer gown—and gave a little wave. Rue waved back. She sat two seats down from Prim with the beefy Thresh in between them. Thresh was so huge, Prim leaned back in her chair and couldn't bring herself to try and whisper around him, fun compliments to Rue. If only she and Rue were sitting next to each other!

Caesar Flickerman bounded on stage in his shiny blue suit with the thousands of electric blue twinkle stars. After a few jokes, he gets right into the three-minute interviews. District 1 went first, then 2, then 3, and so on. Each tribute spoke and seemed to have an "angle" on how they approached the interview, but none of them seemed…real. Everything was show. And the closer it got to Prim's turn, the more she wanted to be real, to show people who she truly was as a last good-bye to life.

Rue's turn came and she floated up next to Caesar. She was all smiles and Prim envied her easy confidence.

"You got a seven in your performance for the gamemakers. What would you say your greatest strengths are, Rue?" Caesar asked. "Or would you prefer not to tell?" He grinned mischievously.

"I'm hard to catch," she said in her soft musical voice. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

"I wouldn't in a million years."

She flounced back to her seat and threw Prim a huge smile. For a wonderful, blissful three minutes while Thresh was on stage with Caesar, Rue and Prim were separated by only a seat.

"You did great!" Prim said as quietly as she could.

"Thanks! You look so pretty! Like a flower."

Prim looked down at her dress and smoothed out the layers. Then she jumped when her name was called. Thresh was already done?

She tried not to choke, or trip, or faint, as she stood from her seat. Caesar held out a hand for her. Grateful, she took it and he gave her a single twirl. "You look absolutely radiant!"

Prim giggled and her giggle rebounded off the walls off the stands, suddenly amplified. "It's because I'm a primrose!"

"Yes, you certainly are." And somehow, on the screen behind them, a beautiful primrose flower flashed. Prim could practically smell it. "So, Prim, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?"

Prim allowed her imagination to fly through the Capitol train, and the streets, and then settle in her lovely room on floor twelve. "The clothes." Her voice was breathy. Excited. "Every time Effie came to our district for the reaping, I wished I could wear fancy clothes like her."

Despite the fact it was the truth, an abrupt sickness grew in her stomach. She sounded like she'd wanted to be reaped…if only to wear fancy clothes! No no no, that wasn't how it should have come out.

She spotted Effie Trinket in the audience and she gave a proud little wave. Her cheeks were a flustered red and Prim thought she saw a tear in her eye.

"Tell us about your home, Prim. Tell us about your family."

Her heart swelled and broke all at the same time when she thought of Katniss, Mother, Buttercup, and Lady. She didn't want to talk about them…not yet. Maybe not ever. The people in the Capitol wouldn't understand how wonderful they all were.

Ceasar must have noticed her hesitance because he jumped into a prompt. "When you were reaped, an older girl was shouting your name. Was that your sister?"

Prim's throat closed and she nodded. She took a shuddering gasp. "Katniss is my…best friend. And my sister. She's the bravest person I know." She looked directly into the camera, wishing Katniss could see the intentionality. "She told me, during our good-bye, that she would have volunteered for me if she was still of reaping age."

"And how did that make you feel?" Caesar's voice was gentle.

"Glad she was too old. I wanted her to stay home and get married."

The audience let out a collective aww. Prim wasn't trying to gain their sympathy, but it made her feel a little better all the same. "So when you had to say good-bye, I'm sure it was with a heavy heart, but I see determination in you, Prim. How do you think you'll do in the games?"

I'm going to die! She wanted to shriek. Don't you get it? But she held her tongue and instead felt her resolve hardening. She could see her face on the big projector and, for once, she looked like Katniss when Katniss was determined to be strong, fierce, and unbreakable.

"I'm not going to kill. No matter what, I won't be a monster."

.

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To be continued...

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~Feel free to check out my own dystopian book, A Time to Die (by Nadine Brandes), on Amazon~

"How would you live, if you knew the day you'd die?"