Top Eight interviews! XD
(are you happy now Megan)
Some special things in this chapter! First, the return of last year's victor Newt, the introduction of some other victors from this storyverse, and of COURSE the interviews! There are POVs from a family member/friend of every remaining tribute :)
DISTRICT THREE VICTOR: NEWT HILLEN
When I start cleaning up the papers from my desk, the other mentors all turn to look at me. "Newt, where you going?" someone calls out. When I look up, startled, I see that it's Jehan Brocade from One, winner of the Fifteenth Games.
"They want me to show up for the Top Eight interview premiere," I nervously explain, "So I have to clear out of here now. Alume's taking over for any sponsors that might come in for Phi." I motion to the older woman, who nods curtly at the mention of her name.
"The Top Eight thing? I didn't know they'd bring the victor back into that. I mean, Jacks didn't do it last year, they dragged up some little Capitol kid and called it a special thing." Jehan rolls his eyes. I smile a bit. Compared to people like Athena, and this year's Ainsley, Jehan is a very kind Career. Or former Career at least.
"Your dear friend Jacks Martin refused to do it," corrects Avia Brooke from across the room, "We all know how much he doesn't really like talking to people!" Well, I wish I could do the same, but it's too late now.
"Whoever's up there with you, Newt, will be just as scared as you are," Drew Triton strides over to me from the District Four table.
"Isn't that whomever, Drew?" The snark in Silve Lebedev's voice is practically tangible. The room hushes as the District One girl smirks.
"It was used passively, so in fact, whoever is correct." Drew straightens up and everyone laughs. Once again, the older man has trumped Silve's efforts to one-up him. It even clears my head for a few moments.
"Well," my voice squeaks. I clear my throat and try to hold down the bright red blush creeping onto my face, "Well, I have to get going. See you all later." I hurry out of the room, nodding goodbye to Jehan on my way out. Two Peacekeepers fall in behind me as I exit the building, which I consider totally unnecessary, but I meekly let them be.
The lump in my throat grows as I'm escorted down to wherever the big event of the night takes place. I can only imagine what sort of things they'll ask me. I've watched these interviews before, but my mind has gone blank. Only the beginnings of sentences are forming, and half of them are about my own Games, not the current one. It's not a new confusion, either, I've been mixing up tributes already.
It started with Knox. He reminded me of Chandler, he was smart and quiet and he acted older than he actually was. And then after that… the associations keep popping up, I even kept calling Lydia, Bay. It's painful, it's still painful every night when I remember all four of them.
And Cathodra's weighing heavy on my soul as well. I told her she would do well, and then Phi went straight for her in the bloodbath. My first tribute, the first person I ever mentored. Such a horrific death.
I have to force myself back to reality, to the fear, to keep myself from throwing up. I'd rather be freaking out over some questions than focus on the death of the people I wanted to save.
They're going to ask me those kinds of questions, though. They're going to ask about the tributes, my friends, my feelings. It's bad enough already. At the start of the Games I didn't even want to be alive.
I manage to get inside the building and up to the interview room with no debilitating ill effects, but they're ushering me in the room when my hands start trembling. Oh gosh, I thought I'd be all right. I thought I might have a chance to get through this.
It's just me and Octavius. Two people, that's it. In past years the presenters have numbered four or five. This time… I'm on my own. Crap.
"Ah, welcome, Newt Hillen!" Octavius cheers, smiling a terrifying smile as I timidly enter the room. "Come, take a seat! It's been a while, we haven't heard from you since the Victory Tour!"
I've had no time to prepare. The cameras are already rolling. "H-h-hi."
"Still a shy one? Maybe we need to find you a girl!"
"Um…"
"Or a boy?"
"Um… I have my friend Laya." My voice is barely audible even with the microphones. Octavius cheers, slapping me on the shoulder. "Why are we talking about me?"
"Newt, Newt, Newt, the Capitol cares about you!" I'm sure they do. Yes, they care about the boy they forced into a death match. "We want to keep up with you, know how you're doing!" And all I want is to be left alone. "Well, you set the ball rolling for tonight's story! The Top Eight interviews, with footage from the family and friends of all eight remaining tributes! Or, who knows, even now the number could have dropped?"
Some deep place inside me hopes for split second that the theoretical death, the Schrodinger's tribute if you will, is Phi. I squash the idea as fast as I can and press myself deeper into the cushions of the chair I'm sitting in. No, there is no way I will want anyone dead ever again.
That's a lie, of course, but tricking myself is the only way to go at this point.
Octavius turns towards the cameras, flashing a blinding smile and straightening his neon lapels. "Panem, the interviews for your Top Eight tributes of the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games!"
FROM DISTRICT ONE: RHODE JETT
"I cannot quite believe that my failure of a son has survived this far into the Games, honestly. For someone who spent more time in the library of the Training Academy than in the sparring room, Top Eight is impressive. The other trained tributes- Sawyer Aurora, and the boy from Two- they were successful as well. And the outer district tributes tried hard to survive. But Ainsley, and to some extent as well Desire, have been coasting this entire time."
"Harsh, don't you think?" the interviewer raises one eyebrow and leans forward.
"I prepared him for better than this," I snarl in reply.
"We are satisfied, for now. This is more than we expected from him," Althea speaks up, "But unless he returns home, we will not be truly proud."
The man sitting across from us is taken aback. "Well, as parents and not trainers, what is your opinion of Ainsley? What is he like at home? Any particularly amusing stories from his childhood?"
"There's basically nothing," I bark, "Ainsley works hard at what he attempts. That's it. He doesn't do much else. He hates the idea of people getting to know him. He doesn't agree with us, he doesn't care about making a name for himself."
Althea nods and purses her lips. I can tell she's thinking of all the times I've been unfaithful, trying to 'make a name for myself'. In retaliation, I run through a quick list of the times she's done the same.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door. "Who could that be? This is a private interview!" One of the cameramen cautiously opens the door, but it's no use. As soon as he turns the handle, a whirlwind of tangled blond hair and freckles bursts into the room. I groan under my breath- I know who this is. She's been tracking Althea and me down in public ever since Ainsley left, breathlessly praising him for every single thing he does in the Games. It's Casey, whom I refer to as the misdirected stalker.
"I heard there are interviews going on?" she gasps. The interviewer leads her to a chair and motions for the cameras to shift focus.
"Yes, dear, and who might you be?" Oh, I see where they're going. They want shocking interviews, not the truth.
"I'm Casey!"
"Are you one of Ainsley's friends?" Of course she's not. The boy was too hopeless and paranoid to have friends. But Casey swells up with pride as she answers in the affirmative. Even the lie makes her immensely happy. "What can you share with us, Miss Casey?"
"Oh my goodness, don't even get me started! Ainsley is so quiet all of the time, I'm sure he's just looking for someone to connect with! I've been walking with him for years now, always getting conversations started! I think he likes having me around, it's always a lot of fun to have a good talk. He knows so much about a ton of things, he's a lot more focused than anyone else in the Games, I can assure you that!" She giggles.
I leave the room. I can't listen to her obsessive tirade.
FROM DISTRICT ONE: GLAMOUR BLANCHARD
The interviewer's hair is a gorgeous shade of turquoise. She must be fairly new to working in media, because that shade will not transfer onto the screens well, but in person it is a lovely color.
"So, Mrs. Blanchard, what is Des-"
"Dear, no, call me Glamour. I'm not an old woman, goodness!"
"Um, all right, Glamour. What is Desire like here at home? We've seen her in the Games, but having something to compare her to would be a treat!"
"Oh, my girl is the best daughter I could have wanted. She's got the best fashion sense in the district, she's not afraid to stand up for herself, and she always keeps up a good appearance! Even in the Games, she's always the top of the competition."
"The top of the competition?"
"She never lets her reputation here in One drop. Never. Everyone here loves her, you see- she hasn't let that arena destroy her yet. Unlike the other tributes. They've gone mad, Desire's holding her own. Top of the competition."
"I see!" She flips the turquoise hair over her shoulder. "So, we've heard that Desire has only been training for two years. Is this true? And yet, she's made top eight?"
"Yes, she has been training since she was sixteen," my husband Luster declares, "And her skills have improved masterfully, and she hasn't let the girls who have been training for longer drag her down at all. She was friends with them for a while, until she defeated them in the race to volunteer." He smiles at the memory. "She's done well, I think."
"Of course she's done well, she's our daughter!" I laugh.
"What about the other tributes remaining? Desire is wounded. How do you think she is coping?"
"The biggest problem there is the fact that those wounds will leave scars," I scoff, "She is strong. She can cope. District One is strong this year, between that boy and our girl." I need to have complete composure and confidence in my daughter. She is strong, true, but I've also kept an eye on the others. Sawyer and Andras are powerful and dangerous, but they haven't shown creativity or strategy. Desire has Ainsley on her side, and thinking back on the many conversations with my daughter I know she's planning to manipulate him.
"Most parents can't claim the surety you can, Glamour! That's quite impressive."
Luster sets his arm across my shoulders, "We're lucky to know our daughter, really know her. She's a stubborn girl, and she won't stop fighting. She's got drive, you know? We believe, really believe, she can come home."
The truth is, I won't let myself believe otherwise. At the slightest consideration of my dear girl's death, my mind shies away. My heart aches for my baby's return. If I could go in there and protect her myself, I would.
FROM DISTRICT TWO: GRANT AREN
I'm not drunk enough for this. They're dragging me up in front of people, in front of a whole nation, because my boyfriend's fighting for his life in the Hunger Games. For us. For our community. I am so not drunk enough for this. I got ahold of some really strong liquor before they tracked me down, but that was a while back and it's starting to wear off, leaving me more sober than I've been since before the Games. Needless to say, the hangover headache sucks.
I've dealt with worse. Like being beaten up. Like being thrown in prison for a few days. Like watching Andras leave me behind.
They finally deemed me respectable enough to make an appearance on camera, so I go plop down in a rickety chair across from the interviewer man and then immediately regret my fast movement. The world dips and spins around me. They expect a coherent conversation with me in this condition? They're dumber than I thought, and I've never considered them intelligent in any way.
"Grant! We've heard so much about you from our friend in the Games!"
"Your friend?"
"Well," the reporter winks, "I suppose you're much closer to him than we are!"
"Of course I am. But aren't you supposed to contact his family first?"
"We've already conducted an interview with them! However, polls in the Capitol said that the vast majority wanted to see you instead!"
In that case, the polls should have never happened. They should have stuck to protocol, talked mainly with the family. I know why they're interviewing me. They want the boyfriend onscreen. They want a relationship dynamic that will make people go 'aww', not some sob story about the rebellious son. Because I know how much Andras's parents want him out of their house. He spends about half of his life with me anyway.
"That's lovely. If you don't want me drinking on camera, start asking while I still feel suitably intoxicated, all right?"
The interviewer leans forward like he's some carrion bird searching for a nice piece of rotting flesh to hang on to. "We want to know about your relationship with Andras. How did you feel when he volunteered? How are you coping? Go back in your history. How long have you been together? When did you meet? Anything and everything, Grant." The words spill desperately from his lips.
Anything and everything? What if I told him that I practically dream of Andras? The taste of his lips, the glint of the sun off his impossibly golden hair, his rebellious smirk, his strength, his determination. The fact that he loves me too. The day I found out he was gay too, when we were both fifteen. I was already drinking, then. My seventeenth birthday when he held my hand for the first time. The total devastation I've felt for the past two weeks. The guilt, that he's doing this for me, for us. The dread that he could already be lying cold in the arena. The darkness when I think that, because without him I have nothing besides the drink.
"You do know the people I talk to will see this as well. It would be embarrassing to answer all of those questions." I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about this. I just want to go and get a strong drink from somewhere seedy and dark. Pretend that Andras is back with me.
"Ah, who cares what people think of you?" When his feeble attempt at convincing me doesn't work, he shifts gears. "Well then, tell us what you've been thinking during the Games!"
"I want Phi Pandit to stop calling my man 'Pretty Boy'. If anyone ever should call him that, it would be me."
The interviewer laughs. "Well, do you think that Andras will be coming home soon? What will things be like for you then?"
I gulp, trying my hardest to keep the panic off my face. I run a hand through my unruly dark hair. "He's coming home. That's it, that's all. He's coming home. He has to. And then… maybe we'll get some respect. Something better than…" I motion angrily to everything around me, "… better than this!" There are tears in my eyes.
I'm not drunk enough for this at all.
FROM DISTRICT THREE: BETH PANDIT
"Phi has made Top Eight, how do you feel about this?"
My parents both hesitate before calmly nodding their approval. "He is our son, we are very glad that he is still alive," Mother states calmly. I'm shocked. This is their son, not some stranger! He's my brother, and even though he's not nice or good or aesthetically pleasing like my parents would have wanted, he's part of the family. I won't let them forget that. Not when I didn't even realize it for so many years.
I was the only one who even visited Phi in that waiting room before he was carted off to the Games. He volunteered, though, he went willingly. I don't know what to make of that. There was something off about it. He was even more shut down in the visiting room than normal. Not lashing out at me as much as normal, even. He was angry and volatile, but not so much that Dad would have threatened him with the taser.
He's gone now, one way or another, reluctantly or willingly. He's killed. He killed Cath. Aleph left the room when that came onscreen, he had known her from school. Our brother is a murderer, killing even his fellow District Three tribute. Attacking every chance he gets, now. He's on a rampage.
He's my brother and I regret my actions to him over the years, but I have to admit I don't want him home again. Not like this. He can already pick up Father and defenestrate him if he wants, but now he has the confidence to kill us all if that was his goal.
Mother is still droning on about how glad we are to see a family member survive this long. Aleph is staring at the camera with stony eyes, tapping his foot anxiously on the ground. He just wants to get out of here so we can stop playing the role of perfect family. We've been faking that for years, and I'm convinced Mother and Father treat Phi like the adopted dog. They even called him our 'statistical anomaly'. How did it take so long for me to recognize the verbal abuse?
"Okay, Mother, stop. Just stop."
Everyone stares at me, including the interviewer. There's a faint whirring as one of the cameras zooms in on me.
"Beth, dear, do you have something to say?" Father's voice is clipped.
"Yes, I do. Phi is my brother, and Aleph's brother, and your son, okay? He's not some boy that we happen to know in the Games. He's our flesh and blood. Look, Father, you have a taser that you've threatened him with. That's abuse, okay?"
"It's for our safety! He's threatened to throw me out the window!"
"And yet has he ever actually touched one of us with the intention to harm? No. Never. We've told him for years that it's not his fault he's ugly. How messed up are we? I didn't even think of that as cruel until these past few weeks. We only made him feel worse about himself, day in and day out. Have you ever considered that he volunteered to get away from us?"
"Beth, sit down."
I open and close my mouth for a few seconds, reaching for the words to continue my rant, but there's nothing there anymore. Nothing. I sit down, adjusting my glasses and pushing my dark hair behind my ears.
"What an interesting perspective from Phi Pandit's older sister!" the interviewer crows into his microphone.
I sort of hope they don't put that on national television, actually. That would be… humiliating.
FROM DISTRICT FOUR: BRAYAN AURORA
"From what Sawyer has told us in her interviews and from other accounts, the two of you are very close. What do you have to say about your familial relationship?" The perky little interviewer woman offers me a microphone to speak into.
I straighten my shoulders. This is something I can be proud of outside of my work. My little girl, upholding the family name in the competition of all competitions. And the family business, once she returns home.
"She's the best daughter I could have hoped for," I say bluntly, without emotion, "Smart, hardworking, creative. I'm proud to call her my own."
"Do the two of you spend much time together here in Four, or did your lives stay pretty separate?"
"She had her own crowd, and what teenage girl would let her father into that group?" I laugh a deep, hearty laugh. "But she worked for me as well, learning the family trade really. Businesswomen are respectable and Sawyer had the mind for it. A fast learner, and determined to make the most of whatever she did."
And, especially successful in the… shadier side of business as well. Two reports have come in from my colleagues in the Capitol. Sawyer completed her two pre-Games business transactions smoothly. Once she returns I can officially hire her into the company- both the respectable front and the conman business behind it.
"That sounds positively ideal, Mr. Aurora! Now, tell me, is it just you and Sawyer at home?"
"Yes, just the two of us. She's never even met her mother."
"Oh, I'm sorry-"
"No, it wasn't tragic. The woman just left little Sawyer on my doorstep after she gave birth. I took it upon myself to turn my life around and provide for my daughter."
The woman smiles broadly at me. "That's so sweet!" I fold my muscular arms across my chest. I disagree- I knocked a girl up when I was young and stupid and it took a child to convince me to be a good man? But whatever will get my daughter more sponsors, I suppose. "How long do you think it will be before Sawyer comes home, Mr. Aurora?"
"Just a few days," I answer immediately, "The only real threat to her is Andras Fey, but she's more determined than he is. The District One pair will destroy themselves, and the others are not of the same caliber as Sawyer. She will be out of the arena soon, and back home here with me."
"And you're looking forward to that, Mr. Aurora?"
"Anything to bring my little girl home safe at this point."
FROM DISTRICT EIGHT: SPRING TYNE
"Your son has adapted to his environment surprisingly well for someone his age, what are your thoughts on this? What will change if he returns home?" Our interviewer seems determined to drag something out of us, acting like somehow we are going to refuse this conversation.
"He's seen things that no kid his age should ever have to see," my husband says forcefully, "It's going to be a hard time for us, pulling things back together after a terrible odyssey like the Games have been to our boy." I reach for the box of tissues, trying to hide the fact that I'm about to cry.
My baby isn't holding together well, poor Shiloh, he's fighting off the effects of losing the two other children that helped him through so much. Aedan, the boy from Ten, brought about a change in my boy. He was open, he pulled through and survived! And now that we know poor Aedan is dead, my Shiloh can't be all right! I need to be there for him, need to help him through like any mother should do.
"And how are you feeling knowing that your son is still alive, Mrs. Tyne?" the young man rattles off his assigned questions.
"Overjoyed," I blurt out, dabbing at my eyes with a tissue, "I can't imagine how much it would hurt, I can't even think, what it would be like to lose him after so long."
"After so long?"
Oh no, it slipped out. I can't deal with the stress of this, not on top of having my baby fighting for his dear life in the Hunger Games! I lean in closer to Spruce, looking for a shred of comfort. He sets his arm around me and strokes my shoulder, trying to calm me down.
"Miscarriages," I struggle to get the word out, "Three of them before Shiloh was born. He-he's the only child of mine that survived. I couldn't bear… he can't… not again. I won't lose another child!" I burst into full sobs. Spruce sets his hand over mine, gently whispering into my ear and trying to tell me that it will be all right.
The interviewer latches on to my greatest pain like a leech. "So you had several miscarriages before Shiloh? Do you think that had an effect on the way he grew up?"
I bury my face in Spruce's shoulder and cry; my husband speaks for both of us. "Don't you dare dig into our history like that. It's none of your business, and you're not here to bring up all the painful memories you can. Stop right there and move on. You have no relation to Shiloh, but he's my son and he's Spring's only child and he's the best boy I ever could have had and… and… and I was a fool to not realize that before he was taken from us!" He covers his face with his spare hand for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
I've regained some of my composure- I can talk without my breath hitching at the very least. "Our family has been through more than some people will deal with in their lives, sir. Do not prod or pry. It is extremely painful and furthermore impolite."
"I apologize, ma'am." The interviewer is at least earnest in his apology. "Now, what were you thinking the moment Shiloh's name was called at the reaping ceremony?"
FROM DISTRICT NINE: ROBIN GLENN
"Why are you not talking with Rhain's parents?" I ask the Capitol film crew as I let them into my small house.
"They declined to answer the majority of our queries," the interviewer replies apologetically, "But friends are always on the list as well." I can sense what they're not telling me. They know, too, that this little shack does house some of Rhain's family. They're not going to push that fact right away, but Hope will, in the end, have to make an appearance during this interview.
"Just let us get set up and then we can begin!" The woman says, motioning to her camera crew. I nod blankly and let them pass into my main room, their equipment soon covering my worn little table and threadbare chairs. There's barely room to walk through the house now. Mom comes from the back bedrooms, no doubt having just put Hope down for her nap. Her eyes widen as she sees the Capitol people, but I mouth 'interview' towards her and she figures it out.
"I'll stay in the back," she tells me. I'm fine with that, I suppose. They didn't come here to talk to her, I guess. Otherwise they would have asked for her beforehand. And if Hope wakes up Mom is better than me at calming her down.
"Come here, Robin, we're ready to start!" The reporter lady trills. I pick my way across the room to one of my worn out chairs and take a seat.
"All right- cameras rolling?" One of the filmers gives her a thumbs up and she turns to me happily.
"I'm here with Robin Glenn from District Nine, friend of tribute Rhain Miller!" I wave halfheartedly to the cameras. "Robin, you're not a family member, so do you care to explain your appearance or shall I?"
I deliberate for a split second. "I've got this."
"Go ahead."
"I mean, it's pretty well known in the Capitol that Rhain is a mom, right? Yeah. Well, her parents kicked her out for that. She didn't move in with me, but I still took care of her. Babysat Hope when Rhain was working and all that. Brought her food sometimes. Was a friend." I sound robotic in my own ears, dispassionate and dull. I don't feel that way? Why do I sound so clinical when I'm talking about my closest friend?
"Rhain was kicked out of her home- why?"
"Her parents didn't accept the fact that she was going to have a baby, that's it." They don't want that answer. They want the story. They want reasons. They want to know the full story, and I can tell them that. If I told them some brutish Peacekeeper attacked Rhain and got her pregnant, it would spoil her trust in me, they probably wouldn't even play the segment, and I'd get arrested for slander or something equally unfair.
"You said you take care of Hope sometimes?"
There it is, all right. I was expecting that. "Yes." Might as well get it over with. "She's in the back room right now, actually."
My mother must have been listening in, because at that exact moment she walks in, Hope squirming in her arms. The interview lady practically melts at the sight of the little girl. Hope is hardly awake, but her light halo of curls gives her the appearance of a baby angel. Mom hands her to me and she wakes up a little more, enough to focus on my face.
"Mama?" I have to close my eyes. She's been asking for Rhain since the afternoon of the reaping ceremony.
"Soon, honey, she'll be back soon," I whisper almost automatically in reply. A smile creeps across my face as I hear the interviewer 'aww'. This is honestly the best way this interview could have ever gone.
FROM DISTRICT TEN: ISADORA CARMEN
Scowling, I slump back on the couch with my arms crossed over my chest. They're here to talk about my oh-so-perfect sister and her wonderful success in the Games. Don't they get it? Nothing about this is wonderful… but true, Inez is the best sister I ever could have wanted. But she's in the Hunger Games now. The Games. Where twenty-three teenagers die every year.
My big sister might still be alive in the top eight, but the other tributes that survive with her? District One, Two, Four, and that creep from Three are all ruthless. They would murder gentle Inez without a second thought. Maybe Inez could deal with the Eight boy or the Nine girl, but she won't want to. I'm still shocked that she killed someone. That little boy from Nine of all people.
After I saw that on the screen, I went into Inez's bedroom and cried for hours. I fell asleep on her floor.
My parents are going back and forth with the interviewer, about Inez's life here and how she was always so good and there are even some cute stories shared about Inez as a little girl that make everyone smile sadly.
I'm getting nervous as they continue talking, but when I go to twist my lucky charm bracelet around my wrist, it's not there. Of course it's not, I gave it to Inez as her token. Well, that isn't helping my stress level at all.
"So, Isadora," the interviewer says, catching my attention, "What is your relationship with your sister like?"
I glance towards my parents, and they're looking at me almost nervously. They have no idea of what I might say, they're not trusting. I hide my smirk.
"Inez is honestly the best older sister I could have ever wanted. She was a good role model. She always tried to do what was right… and I never really paid attention to her but I loved her anyway. I think I irritated her. But we were still sisters, that never changed."
My parents are smiling now. It's the first time I've made them smile in a long time, I believe. They always smiled for Inez and yelled at me. Maybe I've taken in some of my sister's personality.
"What do you think of the way Inez has changed in the arena? We've seen her go from helping the Munchkins to running all over that island to fighting and finally killing Knox Blake of District Nine." Mom's breath hitches on the last part; I bite my lip. If anything, Inez actually listened to me. Tried to survive, changed herself in the process. Could it be that I've tried to take her place in the meantime? I haven't gone to any parties, I've even helped do the housework.
"I think she's coming into her own, there in the arena," Dad answers confidently, "She's no longer our little girl, but she's grown. She's become able to stand for herself."
"I'm so worried about her," Mom whispers, "Killing is wrong. How will Inez cope with that guilt? She's always held her morals very high."
"I think she's changed," I blurt out, "But I think those changes will help her come home!" I won't cry. I won't cry.
I have to leave the room so they don't see the tears rolling down my cheeks.
DISTRICT THREE VICTOR: NEWT HILLEN (AGAIN)
Inez Carmen's family fades from the screen, ending the footage of the interviews. I'm stuck in complete silence, but Octavius begins to talk again right away.
"So Newt, what are your thoughts on this year's Top Eight? You were in that position just a year ago!"
It's hard to swallow and my mouth is fuzzy. "They look like a good group?"
"Oh, Newt, so neutral! Specifics, specifics are what I'm looking for!"
"Am I allowed to do that when there's still someone from Three there?"
"Of course, you're not mentoring them. Go ahead, what are you thinking?"
"Mostly that I'm glad I'm not there." Octavius bursts out laughing and I'm taken aback. That wasn't a joke. That was serious. "They are strong. The ones who trained are all really powerful, and there's not anyone under the age of fifteen."
"And in your Games, there was a thirteen-year-old in this group, correct?"
That's not even funny. Trying to make me bring up Chandler, the person whose death I feel just as personally responsible for as I do Delany's. I have nightmares about that sand dragon every night, you know. "Yes, there was." And Knox reminded me of Chandler as well. All the guilt settles back onto my heart.
"Are there any tributes here you especially connect with, Newt?"
I consider the question for a moment. If Phi wasn't so… Phi, I might have been able to answer with someone from my own district. "I can relate to Shiloh. He sort of reminds me of myself- the fifteen year old underdog, you know? And Inez. I saw her several times during the Capitol week, and she seemed very kind."
Octavius runs through a few more generic questions, things I can zone out for and answer on autopilot. I just don't want to be here anymore.
"And Newt, did you hear? The tribute pool may have just gone down to seven!"
"Really? Someone else just…"
"We'll be finding out very soon, right after this program!"
All of a sudden I feel very weak. Octavius doesn't notice as I slump back in the chair. He's signing off.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this has been the Top Eight Interviews for the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games!"
You may have noticed that the interviewers change from district to district- in the Games, this is a rushed segment of the program. They have a limited amount of time before someone else dies, so at least in my storyverse (the Chaosverse XD) they send out different interviewers to each tribute's loved ones.
I hoped you liked the interviews, of course they aren't the full length conversations, but rather smaller sections from each.
Some questions:
Which interview was your favorite?
Have any of these changed your opinions on the tributes?
Tell me what you thought in a review please! XD
