[13] - Rochelle

"Alright, this is it," Venetia gushes, excited as ever. "Remember what they always say - make yourself memorable!"

"Thanks, Venetia," I say, even though her advice is useless as usual.

"You're with Ramona for the morning, but just know you can call on me anytime in the afternoon before your interview," Venetia says, getting serious. "You know, I'm basically a celebrity around here..."

"I might take you up on that," I tell her, and I'm surprised to find that I'm somewhat genuine. Who knows how this is going to go with Ramona, and I'm going to need any help I can get, even from Venetia.

"Alright then," Venetia says, pleased at my response. "Good luck!"

I'm sent into a small room at the end of the hallway that holds our sleeping quarters. I didn't even know there were rooms this far down the hall. It's a tiny room, with only enough room for two chairs facing each other.

In one chair sits Ramona Hatcher. Her hair is as matted as ever, and her eyes have a characteristic look of gloom in them. Surprisingly, she looks up when I enter, even venturing to open her mouth to speak.

"Welcome, Rochelle," she croaks, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," I say, having a seat across from her. "Our interviews are tonight," I remind Ramona; honestly, I'm not sure if she knows what's going on. "Any advice?"

Ramona seems to think before slowly opening her mouth again. "There's not much I can tell you," she admits. "We're all but forgotten to everyone in the audience. Nobody expects you to go anywhere, so it'll take a miracle to get anyone's attention. I'd say to be yourself, but that doesn't cut it in here."

"So I should just give up," I say, crossing my arms in front of me. I can feel rage bubbling back to the surface again. "There's no way anyone will remember me, so I should just give up. Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm saying that you don't have to be memorable to win the Games," Ramona says, her eyes focused on the wall behind me. "But you have to make a good impression. So show up, be polite. Don't say anything offensive."

I can't hold it in anymore; I snap. "Listen, Ramona, you need to focus. Look at me."

Startled a bit, Ramona turns her eyes to my face. I'm sure she's not used to being talked to like this by her tributes. Or talked to at all, for that matter.

"Your tributes may have wanted to survive the Games in the past," I press, "but I want to survive ten times more. You have no idea how hard I've been fighting, how much effort I've put into being in the perfect position when I enter the Arena. Day and night since I've been here. You have no idea because you haven't talked to me at all since we got here."

"Explain, then," Ramona says softly. I have her full attention now. "I'm listening."

"I've convinced the others that I'm helpless," I start. "But I'm aligned with the Careers. I've convinced August - that's my partner - that he needs me in the Arena. So I'm in with the Careers, and none of them see me as a threat. I have to walk a fine line right now - if they see me as too dangerous, they'll kill me, but if I'm too useless, they'll see me as an easy target. So I could use some advice on that. And how I should portray that in my interview."

Ramona just stares at me for a moment before shaking her head.

"I can't," she sighs. "I'm sorry."

"You've done this before, Ramona," I coax her. "Please. I need you in this moment to help me."

"You know what?" Ramona says. I can see a fire in her eyes that I haven't seen before. "You're right. I have done this before. For twenty-four years. Putting my heart and soul into the most feeble kids that District Eight had to offer. It's not easy being in charge of the kid that dies first every year. And you know what happened with Rafael, I'm sure. You all do."

I can see the hurt in Ramona's eyes; Rafael meant a lot to her. I can tell.

The story of Rafael Martinez is one that every District Eight kid knows, but the orphans know it better than anyone else because we grew up with him. He was Reaped when I was still in the nursery - I must have been about nine years old at the time. It was seven years ago, so Dr. Vitale's deal with Mayor Cyril was freshly in place. Rafael was promising - eighteen years old, well-built, and feisty. He fought his way through the Games, and for the first time in over fifteen years, District Eight had a new Victor.

Not only did Eight have a new Victor, but we also had a new Rafael as well. He was never the same when he came back; rumor had it that people could hear his screams from the Victors' Village at night, and he was rarely seen in public. All of us orphans who hoped that he would put his newly won money into supporting the orphanage were sorely disappointed when he blew it all on whatever drugs he could get his hands on.

Life carries on, though. Rafael carried on with his, and we all carried on with ours. That is, until two years ago. It was right after the 99th Games finished - the mentors all returned to their Districts, but Rafael didn't make it all the way to his destination. Some combination of alcohol and drugs made a lethal mix and killed him on the train. It was treated as a freak accident in the Capitol, but everyone in District Eight knew the truth. It was suicide, plain and simple.

"I understand that you've been through a lot, Ramona," I tell her. "I know you don't want what happened to Rafael to happen to me. But I need you to be on my side. I'm in a position where I can go far in the Games. You have twenty-four years of experience, you said it yourself. You've done this yourself. Tell me what I need to do and I'll do it."

Ramona just sighs, but at long last, I can see determination in her eyes. "Okay. I will."

And so she does.