Disclaimer: Can you keep a secret? Are you sure? You're absolutely positive? OK, I'll tell you, but don't go spreading this around. It's very personal. Okay, here it is: I don't the Hunger Games. (Crowd: GASP!)
I am woken up by freezing cold water being poured on my head. "OH MY GOD, FINNICK! WHY DID YOU JUST POUR WATER ON MY HEAD?!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "It's time to get up. You have Leona first, thank god," says Finnick simply, trying not to laugh at the expression on my face. He walks out, whistling as he shoves his hands in his pockets. I sit up and blow a strand of wet hair out of my face as I order breakfast. While I wait for the food to arrive, I take a short shower and dry my hair.
The avox carrying the food comes into my room and sets the tray down on my bed. I thank her and she walks out. I wonder how weird it must feel to not have a tongue. Twenty minutes later, Leona has my poor feet in a pair of her heels. If I haven't mentioned them before, they're about a foot tall. I complain, saying that my shoes won't be anywhere near this tall, but she just keeps talking as if she can't even hear me.
She has me walk around in them for an hour and a half. By the time she says I can walk in high heels well enough, I'm almost ready to just curl up on the floor and cry. She tells me that my smile is gone, thank god. She has me work on where to keep my hands during my interview. As if the fate of my entire life rested on my hands being place in my lap. Finally the session ends, and it's time for lunch.
I run into Finnick in the hallway. He moves to get past me, but I block his path. I take a step forward and punch him in the stomach. He doubles over and groans. "What was that for, ViVi? And how in Panem can you punch that hard!?" he say after catching his breath. "I'm just awesome like that, I guess. And it's your job to make sure I stay safe until I get back home. So why in Panem did you let Leona torture me like that? She had me in those awful heels of hers for almost two hours!" I snap back angrily. He laughs. "There's some blister cream in the stylist supply closet," he says, walking off.
I grab some walk to the dining room. While I wait for River to show up for lunch, I rub the cream on my heels. It smells horrible, like a bunch of fish left in the sun for a week. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. Let's make it six and a half days. "Gross, what is that smell? It smells like a bunch of fish left in the sun for six and a half days!" River says, wrinkling his nose. I grin. My second guess was on the dot. "Leona's made me wear her shoes for two hours," I say, holding up the tube of cream. "They gave me blisters." He grimaces, imagining how painful wearing those heels is.
"Don't worry, ViVi, all I did with Finnick was come up with an angle and answer some possible interview questions,' he tells me. 'I'm going to be savage and bloodthirsty!" he says with mock enthusiasm. We eat lunch, then I try to find Finnick so we can start working. I find him in my bedroom, playing with the buttons in my shower. "Wow, Finnick, you are really immature for a twenty year old! What the hack are you doing?" I ask.
"I totally forgot all about these awesome showers! The mentors just get regular old showers. This thing can get the salt water out of your hair in, like, thirty seconds!" he says excitedly. I roll my eyes and guide him by his arm to the chair. "I'm sure it can, but that's not what we're supposed to be doing right now." He gives me the pouty lip. I shake my head sternly. He crosses his arms. "Humph. That's not fair,' he says like a child. I roll my eyes and sit in the chair across from him, legs together and hands on my knees, like Leona told me to.
He stares at me for a few minutes. "Well, aren't you supposed to help me come up with an angle for my interview tonight?" I snap back. "You already have one, remember? You're in love," say Finnick, rolling he eyes like it's obvious. "But you said-"
"I said not to show love in front of the other Careers. This is the Capitol. They love anything having to do with love that involves tributes or victors. They make it, they sell it, they twist the facts of it around, and they destroy it utterly and completely. You get used to it after a while when you're a victor," he says, wrinkling his nose up. I want to ask him if that's why he was gone this morning, but he wouldn't answer me anyway. "Okay, how about I give you a sample question and you tell me how to answer it?" I ask. "Deal. Ask away."
