Interviews
Cadenza
Cadenza: an ornamental passage played or sung by a soloist, usually in a "free" rhythmic style, and often allowing virtuosic display.
Opal Granite, 14
District One
The crowd was even larger than she'd imagined. Opal stared out at the audience from her position backstage, ready to come on as soon as she was given her cue. Casca was giving a little introduction to the interviews first, but it probably wouldn't take very long. They all knew why they were here – to give each of the tributes their chance to shine before they started dying off in the Games. All but one.
And it was going to be her.
It had to be her.
The audience broke into applause as she took the stage, smiling and waving as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She took a seat across from Casca, and the cheering finally settled a little. "Good evening, Opal," Casca began. "How are you feeling tonight?"
"A little impatient, to be honest." That earned a few chuckles from the audience. "Not that this isn't nice, of course, but I think I speak for quite a few of us when I say I'm looking forward to tomorrow."
"Us here meaning the Careers."
"Of course. I'd imagine the other tributes wish they had a bit more time to catch up."
"I'm sure they'd certainly like to catch up to your training score," Casca agreed. "One of the youngest Careers ever, and you scored a nine."
Opal beamed. "Highest score in the pack. Well, tied for highest. Not bad, considering Octavia's four years older than me."
"I can't help but notice, though, that your district partner also scored rather high – higher, in fact, than you. Has that caused any … tension? Or perhaps some second thoughts about not inviting him to join the pack?"
Opal shook her head. Phoenix had warned her that this would probably come up, and she was ready for it. "Not at all. High training scores don't necessarily mean compatibility with the pack. Two other tributes scored tens, and we didn't invite either of them to join us, either. Some tributes work better in a large group; some work better with just one or two allies. He's going to play his best game, and I'll play mine."
"I'm sure you will. But I'm also sure both of you realize that, in the end, there can only be one Victor."
"Naturally. And if it comes down to the two of us, I don't think a one-point gap in our training scores is going to make a bit of difference. I'm a Career. I'm prepared. He's not. That's all there is to it."
The crowd was cheering as she left, but that didn't matter. They were cheering just as loudly when Baoba took the stage and played up the other side of the coin – that while he wasn't trained, he was both older and stronger than her, and that refusing to join the Career pack made him less of a target. The audience didn't care that they couldn't both be right. They just enjoyed the drama.
And in less than twenty-four hours, it wouldn't matter. Their scores wouldn't matter. For the most part, it wouldn't even matter what the audience thought. All that mattered once the Games began was how well she played them. It would be up to her to prove herself, and she intended to do just that.
Sebastian Banks, 18
District Four
The rest of the Careers' interviews went about as well as he'd expected. District Two was clearly preparing for Lark to reveal something during his interview, and Sebastian had to admit he was curious about what. The older tribute from Three broke into a kazoo solo in the middle of their interview, while the boy did his best not to stutter too much. Then Corin played up the fact that she'd learned so much over the last three days, she'd even outscored her district partner.
She'd been hesitant to bring that up during the interviews, maybe worried that she might embarrass him, but he'd told her to go for it. What he hadn't told her – what he wasn't going to tell her – was that he'd intentionally scored a bit lower, held back a bit during his session. Not because he'd thought it would fool the audience into thinking he didn't know what he was doing, but because it would boost Corin's confidence a little. And what was good for her was good for the pack as a whole.
Sebastian gave Corin a thumbs-up as she left the stage, then quickly took her place. "So, Sebastian," Casca began. "Looks like you and your district partner have something of a friendly rivalry going on."
Sebastian shrugged. "It's the Hunger Games, Casca. We're all rivals eventually."
"But she did score a little bit higher than you, despite your years of training."
Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "Quite a few people scored higher than me. Quite a few people scored lower. None of that's going to matter tomorrow. Once you're in the Games, it's not about the numbers anymore. It's about you and the choices you make."
"This Career pack has certainly made some interesting choices, compared to what some would consider a typical year." Casca agreed. "Care to comment on that?"
"You pick from the options you're given," Sebastian reasoned. "No point comparing this to a 'typical' year. This is the pack we've got because these are the Careers who volunteered – or who chose to take up the mantle of being in the Career pack despite the fact that they were reaped instead. Is this year's pack a bit different from a typical year? Absolutely. But that's not necessarily good or bad."
Casca nodded. "More interesting, certainly."
"Oh, definitely. We're a group to watch – younger tributes and all."
Casca leaned forward a little. "Now, Sebastian, your district partner tells me she has been watching you – and while she was watching, you swiped something during the chariot rides. Care to tell us what it was?"
Sebastian chuckled. They'd prepared that, too. "Well, you see, I've always loved mermaids, and I was just so taken with our chariot outfits that I had to have a souvenir. So while no one was looking – or while I thought no one was looking," he added with a wink, "I picked off one of the scales from my outfit for a district token." He smirked. "And what Corin probably didn't tell you was that she took one of the shells because it reminded her of the beach back home. Looks like we both found a small piece of District Four here in the Capitol."
Aurora "Aura" Flash, 16
District Five
A small piece of District Four here in the Capitol. Aura shook her head as the boy from Four left the stage, the audience still cheering along. If he had found something here in the Capitol that reminded him of home, well, that was good for him. But she didn't have that luxury. She couldn't afford to focus on anything except getting home. She couldn't afford any distractions.
So she waved to the audience as she took the stage. She played along. But only as much as she had to. Her smile was thin as she took a seat across from Casca. "Hello, Aurora," Casca beamed, as if this wasn't already his ninth interview of the night. "So lovely to see you – and what a lovely necklace you're wearing."
Aura nodded. He was clearly inviting her to talk about her sisters, so she might as well jump right into it. "Thank you, Casca. It was a present from my sisters when they came to say goodbye. They were saving it for my birthday, but … well, that just didn't work out."
"Because you volunteered."
"Yes."
"To keep them safe?"
"Well, I only volunteered in place of one of them," Aura pointed out. "But yes, I'd like to think what I did kept both of them safer."
"Certainly if you win," Casca agreed. "Then they'll be safe for the rest of their lives – as safe as they can be, anyway."
Aura smirked. "Then I'll just have to make sure I win."
The audience chuckled along, and so did Casca. If only it were really that easy. But there were twenty-three other tributes who wanted to make it home just as badly as she did. Or at least, most of them probably wanted it just as badly. "Well, I'd say you're on the right track," Casca observed once the laughter died down a little. "A ten in training – certainly very impressive for an outer-district tribute. Or any tribute, for that matter. Did such a high score come as a surprise to you?"
"A little," Aura answered, hoping her tone was just right. This was no time to appear too cocky, but she also didn't want to let on just how surprised she'd been. She'd tried her best, of course, but she hadn't been expecting a score anywhere near that high. It was enough to make her wonder if the Gamemakers were up to something.
But what? What did they gain – what did anyone gain – by making her seem like more of a threat than she was? The boy from One had scored high, and Casca had hinted that might be a good reason to invite him into the pack. But it wasn't as if the Careers were going to recruit her – or as if she would be interested even if they tried. Would she?
No. No, she'd never really considered it, but now that the thought crossed her mind … no. Careers were complications. The Games were complicated enough without adding another layer to that. They were just one more obstacle – one more thing keeping her from going home. But maybe – just maybe – those obstacles weren't as insurmountable as they had seemed at first.
Fabrion Morrison, 16
District Eight
It seemed to take forever before it was finally his turn. Fabrion gave a half-hearted wave as the crowd applauded, more out of habit than anything. Most of them probably didn't even remember his name, but that was all right. The more he stayed out of the spotlight now, the better things would go later. That was the idea, at least. Tributes who impressed the Capitol right away were expected to do something exciting at the start of the Games. They were expected to keep the momentum going.
With any luck, he would be able to coast for a little while, at least, while the more gung-ho tributes picked each other off. Then, when the time was right, he could make his move. That was the plan. It seemed like a good one. He just hoped he would be able to pull it off.
Even Casca seemed at a bit of a loss about what to ask him. They talked about his decision not to ally with any of the other tributes – "Too much drama," Fabrion said – and Fabrion showed him the button he'd brought for a district token. "Nothing special," Fabrion said with a shrug. "Snipped it off the shirt I wore to the reaping during the train ride."
"Not exactly the sentimental sort?" Casca asked.
Fabrion shrugged again. "Never really saw the point in bringing something with sentimental value into the Games in the first place. It could get damaged. It could get lost. Anything valuable enough to remind me of home is something I wouldn't want to risk losing in the arena. I want it safe for me when I get back."
When. He wanted to believe it, but it was clear from the audience's half-hearted applause when he left the stage that they didn't. All the better. They would ignore him. The Careers would ignore him. Maybe even the Gamemakers would ignore him for a while.
But not forever.
Lucinda gave him a smile as the girl from Nine took her place onstage and almost immediately started gushing about how good the food was in the Capitol. Flatter the audience – generally a pretty safe approach. Fabrion found a seat and tried his best to pay attention to the rest of the interviews, hoping to pick up any little tidbits that might be useful, but the truth was, they were all starting to blur together after more than an hour. The tributes talked about their allies. About their lives back home. Nothing the audience would really remember in the morning, to say nothing of a few days from now.
But part of him was still listening – part of him always was – and that part perked up when the boy from Twelve said, "The truth is, they invited me into the pack because my father – my biological father, that is – was Julian Arkose, the uncle of District Two's mentor, Lyric Arkose."
Arti Aveneuro, 16
District Ten
It seemed like ages before the applause finally died down. Lark left the stage with a grin and a wave and was quickly greeted by the Career pack with high-fives and pats on the back. Arti watched, silent, as they congratulated him. The audience had loved it. He'd admitted that his parents were criminals in a forbidden relationship who fled the Capitol to be together … and the audience had loved it.
She couldn't help wondering what they would have thought of her story. She'd spent her interview dodging questions about her past, trying to focus on her alliance and her strategy for the Games. But what if she had told the truth? Would the audience have eaten that up, too? Would that have made her chances better?
Arti glanced over at Hector as they headed for the elevator. There was a big difference between her and Lark. His parents were both dead. There was nothing the Capitol could do to punish them farther; they'd already paid the price for their disobedience. But if the Capitol found out what her mother had done, there would be retribution – against her and her mother, certainly, and perhaps even against Hector for his part in hiding their relationship. That was why she had to stay quiet, even if it meant the audience would never know her story. Even if it cost her a few sponsors.
Even if it cost her her life.
Once they made it back to their floor, Arti slumped down on the couch, and Whisper took a seat in a nearby chair. "At least that's over with," he mumbled.
Right. The interviews were over with. But in the morning, the Games would start, and that was even worse. Arti turned to Hector. "Any last-minute advice?"
"How about a last-minute gift?" Hector asked.
Arti raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Hector took a seat beside her. "I couldn't help but notice that neither of you brought a district token. If you'd like, I have something for you – both of you."
He reached into a pocket and produced two clumps of … something. "Sheep wool?" Whisper guessed.
Hector nodded. "My family were shepherds before the war – and for a while afterwards. It's what I brought as my district token, all those years ago. Not this same wool, mind, but I make sure to bring some every year I'm mentoring – for luck. It's been a while since I've had the occasion, but I remembered to grab some."
He held one clump out to Arti, who took it and turned it over in her hands. Whisper nodded appreciatively and took the second clump. "Thanks."
Arti nodded. "Yeah. Thank you. That's a nice tradition." A nice family tradition, maybe. Had he given the same token to his son – to her father – before he had entered the Games? Would it arouse anyone's suspicion if she asked? Maybe. Better to play it safe. If she managed to survive this and make it home, then she could afford to ask questions. They would have a little more privacy, and no one would be trying to kill her. And if she didn't make it home … well, then it didn't really matter whether she got her answers.
Percy Allen, 12
District Six
Tomorrow. The Games were tomorrow. Percy drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. It was a comfortable chair, but even that didn't make him feel any better. There wouldn't be any comfortable chairs in the Games. Well, probably not, at least. And he certainly wouldn't have time to sit around and enjoy them even if there were.
If he won, of course, he would have all the comfort he could want for the rest of his life. But if he lost … if he died …
Who would care? He had no one. No one back in District Six, at least. Mr. Marinko would just find someone else – some other guinea pig to try again next year – or maybe in a few years so that a volunteer from Six didn't seem so suspicious. And he had already told Lucinda, Rose, and Aloe that he wouldn't be working with them in the Games.
It had seemed like the right choice at the time. He still had twenty pills left – he'd been tempted to use one during his private session, but had managed to resist the urge – but that wasn't nearly enough for all of them, even if he wanted to share. Allies would just slow him down. He was better off on his own.
But…
But it had been so nice, having people his own age to train with, to just be around. There were other kids at the orphanage, of course, but none who had really been friendly to him. A lot of them had siblings they had come to the orphanage with – little family units despite the fact that they'd lost their parents. Or they found one or two others to form a little group – groups that never seemed to include him.
Lucinda, Rose, and Aloe, on the other hand, had gone out of their way to include him, to invite him to join them. And not because of what he offered – they had no idea of the advantage he possessed – but because they were being kind. That was … well, it was something he wasn't used to.
And it was something that was dangerous in the Games.
But still…
"Can't sleep?"
Percy shook his head as Tabatha took a seat across from him. "I know I should, but…"
"But there's something on your mind."
"Yeah."
"Well, let's have it."
"Huh?"
"What's bothering you?"
"I … I thought I didn't want allies, but now…"
"Now you're having second thoughts, and wondering if it's too late."
"Yeah."
Tabatha shrugged. "Alliances sometimes come together during the Games, you know. I didn't have any allies going in."
"Yeah, but the ally you ended up with was…"
"Todd kept me alive. That's what allies are for. He did some things – and made me do some things – that I regret, but that doesn't change the fact that if it weren't for him, I would be dead."
"But he didn't really … care about you."
"No, he didn't," Tabatha conceded. "But you think you've found some allies who do – care about you, that is."
"Yeah, but I told them—"
"So go tell them you've changed your mind," Tabatha reasoned. "What's the worst they can say? No? Even if they do, you'll be no worse off than you are right now."
Percy hesitated a moment. But only a moment. He stood up, headed for the elevator, and pressed a button. Tabatha was right. The worst they could say was no.
One more chapter before the Games! To be honest, if/when I do another one of these, I'll probably end up splitting up the post-training-pre-games chapters a little differently, because between this chapter and the last one, I feel like I wrote more pre- and post-interview stuff than actual interview stuff. So maybe pre- and post- interviews deserve separate chapters next time 'round. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
