Chapter 12
For one second her gray eyes flash to mine and I see the jolt of betrayal in their depths. I look away from her and pretend to take another bite of my batter cakes. Guilt washes over me. I want to apologize, to tell her that it isn't what she thinks. But she recovers before I do.
"Good," says Katniss. "So what's the schedule?"
"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content," says Haymitch. "You start with Effie, Katniss."
Effie and Katniss get up and retreat to Katniss' room for whatever presentation involves, Haymitch withdraws to call the other mentors about our alliance and I'm stuck at the table wondering if I've done the right thing. The servants have cleared the table by the time Haymitch comes back.
"So, what's this plan of yours?" Haymitch's voice is inquisitive as he walks briskly back into the dining room. We both walk over to the sitting room.
"You said last night that you'd planned to present us as a team," I say. "How were you going to do that?"
"You better not have changed your mind," says Haymitch. "Not after the three phone calls I just made."
"No, I still want to be with the Careers," I say. "I only want to know what you were going to do."
"Pair you in the arena and have you tell some sappy story about being friends back in District 12 during your interviews. Very basic stuff to get you a little sympathy with the audience and maybe more camera time in the arena. The more the audience likes you, the less likely the Gamemakers will tear you apart the first day."
"Would it have worked if…" I stall.
"If what," Haymitch asks.
"If you'd have presented us as more than friends," I squirm in my seat while I wait for Haymitch to say something but he doesn't. He runs his hands through his dark hair then down his face, stretching the loose flesh of his jowls before saying tersely, "I know you have some idiotic crush on the girl. How serious is it?"
"Very," I say simply.
"Why her?" he asks in a strangled voice. He looks at the ceiling as if for inspiration, then he shakes his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know." He pulls a flask out of his breast pocket and takes a drink. "Have you even said anything to her?"
I shake my head and he chuckles. "I'll tell you now, that girl would take a lot of convincing," says Haymitch, but his voice has taken on a serious tone. "So, what do you want to do about it?"
"Help her stay alive," I say.
Haymitch covers his eyes with one hand, palm stretched across his forehead, massaging his temples, "You know only one person wins this thing, right? That everybody else dies?"
Haymitch looks me intently, as if he actually wants me to answer the question. Like everyone else, I've been watching the Hunger Games all my life. Of course I know how the Games work.
"I know," I say grudgingly.
"Is she worth it?" presses Haymitch.
"She has a better chance of winning than I do," I say.
Haymitch falls into silence again. When he does speak, he sounds twice his age. "What's your plan?"
"Do what you said. Use the interview to gain sympathy, then lead the Careers away in the arena," I explain.
"The Careers won't play nice if they know about your little romance with target number one," he says.
"I'll lie," I say. "Tell them I lied during the interview to find out her secret skill. The audience will be glued to the television trying to figure out what's true."
"If they find out that you're tricking them…you won't like what they'll do to you, kid," says Haymitch.
Torture is common in the Hunger Games, especially with the Career Tributes. It's almost a requirement for any finale.
I can't help it when a shiver passes through me. That's not the way I want to die. "Then I better not get caught."
Haymitch seems to have recovered or maybe the liquor has kicked in. He looks at me more critically. "You know, this could work. Bring in more sponsors for both of you, not just Katniss. The Capitol eats this kind of thing up."
I smile a little. "I had thought of that." I'll need those sponsors. The plan only works if I'm alive long enough to be of help to Katniss.
"Okay, so let's work on how you'll say it," says Haymitch.
We work on the content of my interview for the rest of my allotted time. I'm supposed to be "likable" during my interview. We go over a few jokes and stories I may try to fit in during my three minutes before talking about Katniss.
"Be sure to leave that until the very end. You're the last tribute to be interviewed and that's when it'll make an impression," Haymitch says as we go back towards the dining room
"Trust me, Haymitch," I say. "I'm not in any hurry to tell this to the world."
We're laughing when Katniss comes into the dining room barefoot, wearing a long ball gown hitched up around her knees. She's furious, but on her it's strangely attractive. I can't help it, but my eyes slide down the length of her legs. They're runner's legs, smooth and toned.
"Presentation didn't go well, sweetheart?" he asks. I look up just in time to see her glaring at both of us.
I ignore them and their mutual love of bickering by slipping out and making my way to my room where I find Effie. We work for about an hour on my presentation. I say dozens of phrases while she instructs me—apparently I have a tendency to drop eye contact. We shake hands about a hundred different ways. She tells me my posture is fine and that my smile is "winning." Then she's gone and I'm on my own for the rest of the afternoon.
I order lunch in my room, some of that lamb stew with dried plums and wild rice Katniss was eating for breakfast, and then a second bowl. The too-full feeling makes me incredibly tired and I lie down to catch up on the sleep I missed. It dawns on me that I haven't had a full night of sleep since the reaping. I've been too racked with anxiety since then.
I have breakfast in my room, too. I order a dish I can't pronounce, something with mounds of soft sweet cheese and pastry, then devour it. Afterwards, I go back to sleep.
My prep team doesn't come to prepare me for the interview until the afternoon. They breeze into my room and repair the damage I've done to their handiwork since the opening ceremonies. It's mostly painless. Mostly. Lucia does bring out the tweezers to pluck any stray hairs that have cropped up on my face.
They do their best to tame my hair and make my nails presentable after three days of brutal training. I'm skeptical when Lucia pulls out the makeup, coating my face in various creams and powders, but when they let me see myself in the mirror it doesn't look bad. I chat with them while they work. I learn that Lucia and Vitus are brother and sister. They act like it, bickering and teasing each other. They're both flighty and shallow, arguing about parties for the Games and what they plan to wear, but they make me miss my own brothers.
Portia shows up after about an hour and helps me dress in the black suit she has designed for the interview. Along the lapel and cuffs are reflective gems in shades of red, orange, yellow, and tipped with blue. When I move the colors flash like flames. She selects a watch with a black leather strap from a jewelry case, holding it up to my wrist. She looks at it for a moment before changing her mind, selecting a silver one. She then pulls out a selection of cuff links. She picks a pair that have fires that actually flicker against a silver background.
"Are you ready for your interview?" asks Portia. "Haymitch seems to think you'll do fine, but he was vague on your approach."
"Yeah, that," I say. "It's supposed to be a surprise."
"Well, I'll leave you to your surprise," she says. "Whatever it is, I know you'll charm the audience. Remember that Caesar Flickerman is there to help you. It's his job to make the tributes shine."
Caesar Flickerman is the host of the tribute interviews, along with the mentors, he's a permanent fixture of the Hunger Games. He's been at it for more than forty years and he hasn't visibly aged in all that time. His face is still wrinkle-free and he bounces around in his twinkling blue suit like a man of twenty-five. One thing he does change is his hair and makeup. It's different for each year of the Hunger Games. Last year, his hair, eyelids, and lips were stained blood red. With his customary white makeup, that color made him look like a corpse.
"You've already made me shine," I say to Portia. "Just look at this suit."
"See what I mean," says Portia. "You're too charming for your own good." Portia takes a lint brush and runs it over the back suit. "Ready to go?"
I nod and we head out of my room and down to the elevator where we meet up with everyone else. We make a handsome party. The stylists are always fashionable, Cinna in his understated way and Portia in the Capitol style. Haymitch and Effie must have borrowed our stylists because they are both dressed well, too.
And it seems I'm destined to match Katniss Everdeen for whatever remains of my life. Her dress is covered in the same flame colored reflective gems that make up my accents. I have flame accents, but she is a flame, mesmerizing and dangerous. Every move creates tongues of fire. She avoids me and Haymitch, sticking close to her stylist and Effie.
The interviews take place on an outdoor stage set up in the City Circle. We line up with the other tributes and was for our turn. Right before we begin, Haymitch comes up to us and growls, "Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it."
That's easy to say, but Katniss is still avoiding me. But us behaving like strangers would look odd giving the content of my interview. There's not much I can do about it now, as we walk single file into the blazing white light of the stage and take our seats, which are spaced too far apart for any communication.
City Circle is jammed packed with crowds on every side craning to see us. High-status guest and the Gamemakers, have elevated seating but the streets are standing room only. Camera crews hover on balconies recording the interviews for all the districts. Everyone back in District 12 will be watching either on their televisions at home, staked out in the public square, or huddled into our small community center.
Our host, Caesar Flickerman bounds onto the stage and the crowd gives a riotous cheer. This year, instead of blood red, his hair, eyelids, and lips are all powder blue. He bows once or twice before telling a few opening jokes, usually self-effacing ones. It's fine to make fun of oneself, but never ever the president or the prominent members of his government. He's been doing his job far too long to fall into that trap. After the laughter dies down, Caesar begins calling out the tributes to work their various angles in front of the crowd.
I pay special attention to the Career Tributes. During the interviews, the girl tributes precede the boys so the girl from District 1 is first. With her long blonde hair, green eyes, and see through gown, she's sexy in an over-the-top kind of way. Turns out her name is Glimmer. She illustrates this by gesturing to the strategically placed glimmering crystals on her chest. I have to admit it's a smart move, no one will be forgetting her name anytime soon.
Her district partner, Marvel, goes for charming. He's blond, too, with a wiry build. He gets the crowd cheering by doing a series of complicated back flips across the stage.
The tributes from District 2, Clove and Cato, are both out for blood and glory. Clove is petite and dark haired. She would remind me of Katniss if it wasn't for the look in her dark eyes, a combination of cunning and homicidal anticipation.
The boy, Cato, is massive, at least 6 and a half feet, and ruthless. He spends most of his interview bragging about how he's already killed three opponents while training for "sports" back in District 2. The only sport in District 2 is training to volunteer for the Games. It's against the rules for tributes to train before the Games, but it's an open secret that tributes from the Career Districts train for years before volunteering.
The last pair of Career Tributes comes from District 4, the fishing district. The girl, Kai, is aloof. She gives ambiguous answers to almost all Caesar's questions. She acts as if she has some sort of big secret, but it might only be a bluff. The boy, Pelles, is violent and brash.
The interviews rush by. Each tribute has three minutes to talk before a buzzer rings and their time is up. Portia was right about Caesar Flickerman. He does try to make the tributes shine. Throughout the interviews, he gives the audience a reason to root for the tribute, asking all the right questions.
Even with Caesar's help, most of the other tributes give unremarkable interviews and they blend into each other. Interviews from Districts 5, 6, and 7 fly by. Then 8, 9, and 10 are done and the tributes from District 11 are having their turn. The little girl, Rue, looks like a fairy in gossamer wings. Every time I see her that same helpless anger I felt at the reaping when Prim's name was pulled reappears, twisting my gut. Caesar is gentle with her. She makes a good impression on the crowd and they clap with enthusiasm as she exits the stage. Even here in the Capitol, there's a palatable sentiment of regret in the crowd, but of course, no one acts on it.
The next time I look up Caesar is calling Katniss Everdeen. She rises slowly and walks center stage to meet Caesar Flickerman, her back rigid, the flicker of her dress shooting tongues of flame. They shake hands and Caesar asks, "What's impressed you most since you arrived here?"
Katniss seems dazed, staring blankly out into the crowd just like during the opening ceremonies, making me fight down a flare of anxiety for her. It takes her a moment, but she finally answers, "The lamb stew."
Caesar laughs as though this is the cleverest joke he's ever heard, then a scattering of the laughter goes through the audience. He goes on, getting the audience involved and she relaxes. He asks her about the flames we wore at the opening ceremony and she spins in her flaming dress. She again becomes the smiling, giddy girl from the chariot ride. It's so different and decidedly not her that I can't get over it, but the crowd cheers.
They talk about her score, the big eleven. Caesar begs her to reveal how she got it but she smiles and says "Sorry. My lips are sealed."
Finally, they talk about the reaping and how she volunteered for her sister.
"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," says Caesar. He's serious now, trying to move the crowd toward sympathy. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"
"Her name's Prim," says Katniss. "She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."
Everyone in the audience is hanging on her words now, even the other tributes are watching closely. Not one of them moves an inch.
"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" asks Caesar.
Katniss swallows, "She asked me to try really hard to win."
"And what did you say?" asks Caesar.
Katniss look at him with determination. "I swore I would," she says.
The buzzer sounds, and the crowd breaks in applause.
Which means it's my turn. Immediately, my heart rate goes skyward, I haven't been nervous at all until this moment. Caesar's calling my name and it's just like the reaping, the walk to the stage even has the same dream-like quality. The feeling dissipates as I come up to Caesar, I put on my best face and give his hand a firm shake I think would make Effie Trinket proud.
"Peeta Mellark, the baker's son from District 12," says Caesar. "Do you think baking has taught you anything that will help in the arena?"
It's meant to be a throw away comment, but I take it. "I do, Caesar," I say. "Baking has given me the strategic advantage."
"Oh, really. Do tell," says Caesar. "Enquiring minds want to know, don't we?" Caesar turns to the audience and they're shouting for me to answer.
"You see, at home we are taught all about the different district breads. The breads are like their districts so you get a feel for each. Like the bread from District 1, it's a very fancy braided loaf with nuts, just like the district—fancy and a little nutty."
The crowd roars with laughter and the nervousness disappears. It's like telling jokes at the cafeteria table, only bigger. A camera crew finds the District 1 mentors in the crowd. They both laugh good-naturedly, but I wonder how much of that is real.
"And District 3," I continue. "They make all these tiny, perfectly square rolls. No one knows how they do it but they must use a machine you can't get in any other district. And that's pretty much what you get in the district—mystery and machines."
"And how will this help you in the arena?" Caesar asks.
"Well, I know that if the tributes from District 3 have any kind of machines, I'll l try to form an alliance."
The crowd laughs again and the mentor from District 3 stands up and shouts, "Would you mind putting that in writing?" This causes the crowd to burst into even more cheers and laughter.
"Okay, okay," Caesar says, catching his breath from laughing. "So, what impresses you most about the Capitol? Is it the same as your district partner, the lamb stew?"
"I do like the lamb stew," I say. "But I love your showers. Well, except the first time I used it."
"What happened?" he asks.
I tell him about the incident with the shower filling with rose scented foam. "I kept pushing buttons looking for a way to make it stop, but the foam just kept growing. I had to start shoving the stuff back into the shower until I found the button that makes it evaporate. Everything in the room has smelled like roses ever since. Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" I ask.
Caesar plays along like I knew he would. We're alike in this way, it's not hard for us to put on a show. He leans over and sniffs me. "He smells magnificent," Caesar tells the crowd. Then he sniffs me a second time. If it's possible, the crowd whoops harder.
"How about me? I feel like I'm broiling under these lights."
I lean over and sniff him back and it brings the crowd to their feet with applause.
Caesar has to wait for the crowd to quiet down before continuing.
"We've talked about the other districts and about the Capitol," says Caesar. "What about home? Is there someone waiting for you back in District 12?"
"Only my family," I say.
"What about a girlfriend?" Caesar asks.
I shake my head.
"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" says Caesar.
I know it's time to talk about Katniss and the nervousness has come back in full force. I let out a shaky breath. "Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."
A murmur of sympathy goes through the crowd. I'll take what I can get. I need the support, even if it's from the same crowd that will cheer my bloody death. This is much harder than I imagined sitting in a room with Haymitch.
"She have another fellow?" Caesar says with pity.
"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," I say. To my endless irritation, it's true. She's pretty and something of a mystery and that attracts attention. But she doesn't pay them any more attention than she does to me.
Caesar puts his hand on my shoulder. "So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"
It hits me then, so hard I have to lock my knees to keep standing. No matter how this turns out, there won't be a happy ending. No matter what, I lose everything.
"I don't think it's going to work out," I say hoarsely. "Winning…won't help my case.
"Why ever not?" says Caesar, his powder blue brows creased in confusion.
I feel my face growing red and I have to force the words out. "Because…because…she came here with me.
