Happy holidays, everyone, no matter what you do or don't celebrate!
These interview chapters will be conducted in three parts: Districts 1-4, 5-8, and 9-12. This is part one.
Also, my blog, Mapping Out A Sky, is giving stories to readers who supply prompts! For more info, see http:/mappingoutasky(dot)blogspot(dot).
Fun Fact of the Chapter: How the Escorts Got Their Names, Part VI. Tafetta Allends, the District Six escort, was named after (a misspelling of) the fabric "taffeta" and... well, I'm not exactly sure how I came up with "Allends." I was probably thinking of the name "Allen" and then modifying it.
…..
Ivan Chekhov, Victor of the 173rd Games, District One Mentor
Despite all the noise going on backstage about unusual training scores, the interview stage seems as normal as ever. Plush chairs that match the color scheme of the year. Too-bright lights that impair concentration. Too-loud audience cheering for your death—or, if you're one of the lucky ones, your victory.
Luka steps out from behind me, grinning. He sort of has the right to be: half the audiences out there are supporting him and his high score. He turns his head to glance at one of the backstage doorways, where the District Seven team is coming in. "What do you think she did to match me?" he asks, gesturing toward the twelve-year-old girl. It's the first sign of interest that he's taken in a fellow competitor—the first sign to me, anyway.
I shrug. "I'll try to force it out of her mentor tonight and get the info to you before the Games start." A pause. "Pay attention tonight."
"I will."
"Not just to the high-scoring tributes or the sponsors. Watch everyone. The Gamemakers especially." Luka had told me what he had done for them during his training session, and he was coming dangerously close to the line between "very impressive" and "what the hell do you think you're doing, young man?"
"What, because I ticked them off?" He laughs quietly.
"Yes."
"Ivan, these are my Games, not yours," he says, smirk fading. "I want to play them my own way."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." I sigh. "Luka, when-"
"Ivan. I don't need your help. Not anymore," he insists.
"Fine." I throw my hands up in the air. "It's your funeral." I turn away, afraid that I'll start going sentimental on this brilliant but clueless kid. He should have realized by now that the only way to win at like is to play the Capitol's way, and anything else a person could do would be futile. Spark Raine proves that, the idiot.
And what's worse, despite all of my attempts to distance myself, I've actually started to care about the boy. Great.
Luka takes his place on the stage with the other tributes and the countdown to the broadcast begins.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the interviews for the 191st Annual Hunger Games!"
…..
Montague Lennox, Victor of the 142nd Games, Mayor of District Two, District Two Mentor
This interviewer is a new one; new-ish, anyway. Two years ago is when Benj Palome, my interviewer, died and was replaced by this girl, Liya Marsalla. She has lime-green hair streaked with golden sparkles, which contrast her chocolate skin. She's a young one, around 25. Young for the Capitol, anyway. In some of stone quarries of Two, 25 is considered middle-aged.
Liya's hands are soft; they probably haven't worked a day in her life. Her fingernails are painted gold, and they stretch for several inches before clipping off at a sharp point, like daggers.
I shudder.
I don't know why I even bother paying attention to these things anymore. In fact, I don't even know why I bother mentoring year after year. It's not due to boredom or any lack of things to do—when you're mayor of a district, especially one like Two, you don't need any unnecessary distractions. It isn't for shortage of victors, certainly not. It's just... just... I want to make sure that these kids turn out alright. Not messed up by their victories, you know? Not obsessively staring at the Capitol people's hands like I am.
Hands.
Hands.
The boy with no right hand kills with his hook, bloody and painful. That boy from District Four with revenge built into his mindset, charging...
The interviews have already started. The One girl is up, talking about her family of victors in hopes to play up her own probabilities of victory. She's sweet and polite and altogether quite appealing, if not the typical Career. Then again, she was chosen by luck, not her own will.
"What do you think will be your greatest asset in the Games?" asks Liya.
Emily bites her lip, thinking for a moment. "Assurance," she finally says. "If 190 people before me can do it, then I can."
I rather like Spark and Fidella Raine. Even though they're much younger than me, they're of my kind: Victors through and through, but not vicious or cruel. Strong, but still a little broken. If the girl wins, they'll raise her well. But the odds are against this innocent young girl, and from what I've seen, the odds always win. Emily Raine will not be breathing when she leaves that arena.
Her partner, Luka, takes the stage. He's charming, in a twisted sort of way, and isn't letting anybody forget about his score of eleven in training. I'm glad that I can't see his hands, because they would probably remind me too much of those of the Nine boy from my Games—bloodstained, permanently, though not because it won't come off, but because he wants it there, because he's a vicious sadist...
"Tell me what you think got you an eleven," Liya says, eagerly leaning forward.
Luka laughs. "I can't give you the details, they're confidential. But if you're looking for a quality, I'd probably say... boldness." He chuckles even more, a bit maniacally. He knows that he doesn't have the right word, and I know it too.
Next up is Fawn Emerald, whom I know is trying to hide things from... from, well, everyone. Miranda tells me that the girl isn't even accepting her own mentor's help, only hinting at the fact that she's got her own plans. Marius has confided to me his suspicions about her, and so I'm paying close attention to her tonight.
"So, Fawn-"
"It's Emerald," she corrects with a wide smile. "I changed it 'cause I thought the name 'Fawn' would be too plain for a victor of the Hunger Games."
She's obviously playing up her confidence, to the point of overconfidence. Her interview continues in this manner as she talks about her strengths in a way that makes them sound like weaknesses. I can almost feel the audience disappointment—they look forward to interesting, vicious Careers, not weak ones. Emerald's plan, whatever it is, is working well.
Then there's Marius. I'd anticipated that his weak point in the pre-Games events would be the interviews, just because he's not a great talker and is more than a little unwilling to share personal information. I coached him this morning, gave him a few lines to say that would impress sponsors. Let's hope there are still Capitol people with the right attention span willing to give him a chance.
"You seem a lot like your mentor, famous victor Montague Lennox," Liya observes.
Marius glances at me and shrugs. "I guess so. We both are good with spears. We both got 10s."
Are we alike? We have similar temperaments, after all: reserved, dignified. We use similar weapons with a similar skills set. The only difference is that I have leadership skills and Marius would prefer to be on his own. But that's what makes all the difference.
…..
Fromme Lin, Victor of the 182nd Games, District Three Mentor
People generally don't think of Three as a big crime district—well, let me tell you, it is. People go missing every day, and their families almost always get ransom notes demanding half their wages for the week. It's how a good eighth of the population gets their income. There are also organized murders and gang fights and grand thefts on a regular basis, all taking back in the back streets where the Capitol doesn't dare send its Peacekeepers.
People generally wouldn't have thought of 17-year-old me, a tiny, sallow girl with average marks and average Three looks, as the leader of the biggest crime ring in the district. They'd be wrong. I was tough and I was mean, and I had killed many times. People regularly told me I was crazy.
That was how I won the Hunger Games that year—experience. Thalia Trinket has no such luck.
She's one of those brainy, intellectual types that always makes me sick. Classic Three fare—smart tributes who think they're gonna come in and make some big electrical trap that wipes out all the competition with its cleverness, but have no clue how to properly kill a person. Especially not ones twice their size who've been trained to kill.
I don't pay much attention to her interview. Why should I? It's doomed to fail anyway—the girl has even less public speaking ability than she does experience with killing—and I honestly don't care what happens to her. It numbs the pain, if you don't think of 'em as people. That's something I learned when I was ten years old.
Scott's tribute, Link Anderson, is the one everybody's hoping on. Even me, a little bit. He says his dad—some hotshot Capitol representative for Three, not that that matters—taught him how to use "twin katanas," which are a type of sword. Hey, a Career by any standard has a better chance than a non-Career. Link also is a bit more socially adept than Thalia, which'll gain him favor with the audience.
I listen to a little of his interview, though not carefully. He's not my problem.
"So, Link, what do you like most about the Capitol so far?"
He leans back, thinking, and then says, "All the new, advanced technology. There's nothing like it back in Three."
That's the answer we're all supposed to give when asked that question: it makes us look intelligent, curious, and obedient to the government. I tune out the rest of his interview after that; if the kid couldn't think of anything original then, then he certainly isn't going to now.
I hear the audience laughing and applauding. I see Scott, sitting next to me, giving his tribute an encouraging smile. Scott was always too nice. I would love to say that "nice doesn't win the Hunger Games," but apparently it did for him. I briefly wonder if that's why his tributes are always more successful than mine.
…..
Quill Isotes, Victor of the 184th Hunger Games, District Four Mentor
"Anyone special back at home?" asks the interviewer, Liya.
Carreen's eyes brighten. She's been waiting for this particular question all interview long. "Well, there's my mother, of course, and my older brother Ray. He's 19 and a fisherman. There's my best friend Lily—we've known each other our whole lives and really support each other. And then there's Cedric..." She closes her eyes lightly.
"Who's Cedric? A boyfriend?"
Carreen nods. "Yeah. We've been dating for a while—actually, our six-month anniversary is going to come up during the Games. That's why he gave me this bracelet." She holds up her district token. "I would do practically anything to get back to him, as I know he would for me."
I lean back and smile. Good, she's taken my advice: give the audience a good reason to get you back home, and they'll bring you there. Love is a particularly strong one, as is a struggling family. I myself used the latter, and it's probably the only reason I lived.
The buzzer rings. Carreen's made a strong impression, as I suspected she would. Both of my tributes have a way with words and an air of likeability. Much like myself, I suppose.
Gabriel has decided to go for the mysterious route, almost the opposite of Careen's angle. He talks very little about his family or his life back in Four, but leaves half of the Capitol audience dangling for more. He makes it very clear that he has a reason to make it home, but won' disclose what it is.
"My luck might change suddenly, or someone might use it against me," he explains. "I'm a very private person. I keep many secrets... except, of course, from those whom I know I can trust." He stares out across the audience. "Can I trust all of you?"
Okay, that's a little over-the-top, but the Capitol swallows that kind of stuff easily. I can feel the buzzer in my pocket vibrating every second—sponsors for the District Four tributes.
Good. Sponsors will get them far. I want to help out as much as I can, because these tributes are so likeable and so much like myself and the people I love that I can't let them die. If only there were a way that they could both win...