The producers and I hate the Private Training Session. There's absolutely no point in it. More often than not these tributes don't show anything that we haven't seen on the two days of training, or their instructors didn't tell us on their briefings. We can't even broadcast it since it's against the rules. The tradition is the only reason why we do it.
Each tribute gets fifteen minutes to perform whatever they think it will help them on the arena. What they don't know is that rarely ever something they do here ends up influencing their training scores, we already set them during training. This whole event functions solely to give them, and the mentors an illusion that they have some control about what is happening.
The male tribute from District 1 enters the gymnasium without bothering to introduce himself. He probably thinks he doesn't need to. That because he's from a career District he is automatically a favourite. His picture under the 'body count' category begs to differ.
"What do you think?" I ask Plutarch, who sits on the chair beside mine, "Day 6?"
"His producer thinks it'll be around day 8. My money is that the kid from 11 will do it," Plutarch retorts. He's not allowed to actually bet on it, for obvious reasons. We can only bet among ourselves, and for bragging rights. The only real money we make, aside from our salaries, is the bonus if we complete our storylines, or if one of our tributes becomes a victor.
After the female from 1 exists the gymnasium, we get a short break until the cleaning crew replaces the spears and change the targets for new ones. Those breaks are a lifesaver for us. The worst part of having to work closely with the tributes is that they need to believe that we truly care about them. Having a tribute walk in and finding us acting as we do on the producers' room would shatter that image in a second. So we take times like these to gather our sanity back, before going back to our places and give the tributes our undivided attention.
District 2 is next, as soon as Cato enters the room, Plutarch shouts his name, clapping his hands in encouragement. He seems to recognize him and shouts Plutarch's name back, smiling broadly.
"Seems like your tribute is following perfectly in line," I say. He starts his routine, fighting four instructors with a sparring sword, and taking them down easily.
"The girl is a complete wild card, but him," Plutarch shouts even more words of encouragement, "I can play him like a fiddle."
Even though Cato is far from the balcony, I try to make my laugh discreet so he can't notice. "I'm glad you're not upset about not getting 12."
"A career with parental issues isn't exactly a challenge, Seneca." Plutarch looks at Lavinia, who is on the other side of balcony talking with a few producers. "But I have to admit, she managed to sink to a level I would never be capable of."
"She's just using doctored footage, Plutarch. It's not that big of a deal." Cato ends his session, and the other career from District 2 enters the room. She goes straight to the knives. "Besides, isn't she enough challenge?"
Plutarch rolls his eyes and sighs. "I tried to start a conversation with this girl several times. She ignored me on every single one of them. We can't have her as a victor."
I worked with Plutarch for over thirteen years now, I've never seen him discard one of his own tributes as a victor. Even when Johanna Mason was playing her weak little girl act, he stood by her, giving her and her district partner the same amount of attention. "Alright, if you say so, then she's off the list."
"She needs to be," he says.
The tributes come and go, each one more boring than the other. Even though we get a longer break for lunch, it isn't enough to lift our spirits for the rest of the day. We're not allowed to drink, but there are no rules against taking pills, so take my third amphet pill with lunch. They have the exact opposite effect of morphling, instead of the drowsiness you get incredibly alert and focused, which is perfect for boring tasks like this one. The only downside is that they make sitting still an absolute challenge.
"Only more six districts to go!" Lavinia screams, and we all cheer. The effects of the pills are definitely kicking in, and we're starting to feel like we could go fight in the arena ourselves.
"Okay Seneca, here's my problem with using doctored footage." Plutarch sits by my side while the female from 11 is doing her routine. He's grinding his teeth, another side effect of the amphet pills. "It's cheating. I know it not necessary against the rules, but Lavinia should talk the tributes into following the plot, like all of us do."
"She's just using a new approach. You saw those two. They don't leave each other side for more than two seconds. She could never put them on the breaking point in three days."
"I could," Plutarch says. So this is why he's so interested in Lavinia's plan.
"I did you a favour, Plutarch." I low my voice to almost a whisper, you never know who might be listening. "I don't know what you have being up to, but President Snow has you under his radar, and I don't think is because of your little affair with Finnick Odair."
Plutarch's lips turn into a thin line. Any relationship between producers and mentors are strictly forbidden regardless if it's mutual or paid for. However, there are always rumours. Plutarch and Finnick Odair meeting on shady motels in the middle of the night is one of them. And by the look of him, I just confirm it.
"Just drop it, Plutarch, Lavinia is doing a great job. And, if everything goes accordingly with her plan, we may even have the first sex scene inside the arena. Our ratings will go through the roof!"
Something groundbreaking like that would put me on history as one of the best gamemakers the Hunger Games has ever had. That would secure my, and my producers' position for years, if not decades, but Plutarch doesn't seem to agree with me on that. I thought he would be ecstatic about it, but he looks at me disgusted.
"They're sixteen, Seneca," he says.
"So what? They're already doing it, might as well put it on camera."
"So if it was Minerva in the arena, would you be okay with that?" Now that was a low blow. Minerva is my only daughter, she just turned fifteen last month. Her mother and I had a messy divorce, and I don't see her as much as I should. Plutarch knows that. "We need to draw the line somewhere, Seneca."
Plutarch doesn't let me answer, he gets up and walks away downing his ice tea before getting another glass. I take another amphet.
"Hi, I'm Peeta Mellark, from District 12." Finally the only District I was curious about shows up.
After the little confrontation yesterday, I started to think that maybe the volunteers had more to offer than just teenage romance. After a quick talk with the trainers, three of our biggest instructors surround him.
Turns out I was right, this boy can fight. The height and weight disparity don't make any difference for him. In fact, he uses it as an advantage. Soon he's the only one standing. Lavinia shrugs at the inquiring look I give to her. "He did place second at his school's wrestling tournament. He said that his coach had to put him with the older boys because placing him with the ones on his age and weight would be unfair to them."
He leaves, and the girl from 12 enters the room, she goes right to the archery station. "Can't wait to see if the prep team left some hair on her." The producer from District 7 says that. He's old enough to be her grandfather. I can't help to picture him making those comments about Minerva. This makes my insides turn.
Maybe I took too much amphet, and I'm getting caught up on things that should not matter, but I can't let go of what Plutarch said. I'm not naive. I know exactly what the Hunger Games are, and why they exist. But it's not my fault that ages ago the Districts decided to bite the hand that fed them. The girl shoots once, and the arrow misses the target. "Better low that eight we gave to her," Lavinia says, making some producers chuckle. I decide that I can't take this any longer.
"She's not Minerva," I say to Plutarch, who stands by the craft table getting more ice tea. My voice is louder than it should, and I can feel the other producers eyes on us, but I'm too hyped up to control it. "She's just a tribute! And nothing more than that. So don't you come to me claiming some moral high ground when you had no problem when we killed that cannibal freak of yours years ago!"
"His name was Titus!" Plutarch retorts, his voice is low and angry, I know I hit a nerve by mentioning one his greatest fails. The cannibal was the only tribute we ever had to kill in the arena, a complete breach of game rules that costed Augustus Lars his job as Gamemaker and almost got Plutarch arrested. "He was fourteen, he was a person, and at least I have the guts to admit that, unlike you."
"Watch out!" someone screams. An arrow flies into the balcony breaking the glass out of Plutarch's hand and hitting the wall behind us. Plutarch and I jump back shocked. The girl from 12 stands glaring at me. Our eyes met, and for the first time, I really see her. Her grey eyes full of anger and hurt, so much like Minerva's, when I left her mother last year, and I feel the same guilt and shame I felt that day.
"Thank you for your consideration," Katniss says. She makes a slight bow and leaves the room throwing the bow and the quiver on the floor. The metal sound echoes in the empty gymnasium after she enters the elevator and leaves without being dismissed.
"No one was looking at her presentation?" No one answers, no one needs to, everybody was paying attention to my meltdown instead of Katniss' presentation.
"Well, I guess we can add 'archery and anger' to her list of attributes." Lavinia points to the targets at the archery station. Aside from the one she missed, she hit the bullseye on five targets, one of the lamps, and the rope that holds one the sandbags on the boxing station. Definitely, something I wasn't expecting.
"How the hell someone who isn't a career gets so good at archery?" One of the producers asks, looking at the arrow on the wall.
"Not in any legal way," Lavinia says, she turns to me with a worried look on her face, "this is a serious problem for the storyline."
"Only if she gets the bow, there's no guarantee of that," Plutarch says.
"You really want to take that chance?" Lavinia says. She's right, Katniss is a remarkable archer, if she gets the bow, it would end the game.
"Cato can take her. Besides, you have to admit, that was the most impressive thing we ever saw in a Private Training Session," Plutarch says.
I'm divided. During training, Katniss proved to be highly skilled in survival techniques. But, aside of knife throwing, she failed in almost all categories involving fighting. The bow would be her only chance of defending herself, but it'll make her chances of becoming a victor astronomically high. She's not supposed to win. Still, my blood runs cold when I remember Cato saying he'll rape her in the arena. Maybe Plutarch was right. We do need to draw the line somewhere.
"We'll leave the bow and quiver in the arena," I say, Lavinia opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her before she can say anything. "That's final, Lavinia."
Later that night, when Caesar Flickerman announces the training scores, I'm shocked to find out that the results aren't the ones we sent to his team. During training, we decided that all the careers will get scores between 11, for the ones that are possible victors, and 10 for the ones we think are "body count", while Katniss and Peeta would get a 7 and an 8, respectively. However, Caesar just put a target on their backs by giving them both scores of 11 and by giving the careers scores that range from 10, for Glimmer, all the way down to 8, for Cato.
I immediately call Asterion Minos, he's one of President Snow's assistants. He's a lap dog from District 2 that got lucky, but if someone would know what's going on it would be him.
"Mr. Crane, what a pleasure. I presume you watched the scoring announcement?" he says in a fake Capitol accent.
"Yes Asterion, and I'm very curious about the changes."
"After District 12's demonstration, President Snow decided the scores needed to be updated." So they were watching.
"And why I wasn't informed of this?"
"Oh, Mr. Crane, do you truly believe that would've made any difference?" I can sense Asterion smiling over the phone. He's enjoying every second of this. "And, one more thing, Mr. Crane. The bow and arrows were removed from the arena. President Snow decided that you're allowed to replace them with any other weapon of your choosing."
Asteron hangs up, and I want to throw the phone on the wall, but I place it on the coffee table instead. President Snow's warning was loud and clear. As much as it sickens me to think of what probably will happen to Katniss in the arena, there's nothing I can do, I'm not going to risk my job over some girl from an outline District.
Friday is a day of preparation for us and the for tributes. Since most of them aren't camera ready, they spend the day practicing manners with the escorts and interview skills with their mentors. We, on the other hand, have to prepare the questions Caesar will ask, making sure the storyline follows through.
Working with Caesar is always fun. He and his entourage invade the producers' room cracking jokes, doing impressions and singing songs from back when Caesar was a theatre actor. After three days locked up in that balcony, that's exactly what we need to recharge our energies before the game starts. The day goes by in a blur. We hit point after point without any problems. That until we reach District 12.
"So my plan is quite simple," Lavinia starts, "instead of two, three minutes interviews, we're going to do one four-minute interview with both of them. We'll start with easy questions 'what they like to do together?', or 'how they find the Capitol?'. Them, right at the end of the interview, Caesar hits them with the Gale thing. We don't give them space to maneuver and finish the interview in a cliffhanger."
Lavinia sits back proud with herself, but Caesar isn't impressed. "They're the 'star-crossed lovers of District 12', the biggest love story the Hunger Games has ever had. They're literally willing to die for each other! Nobody is going to believe the girl is banging some other guy on the side," he scoffs at her, but Lavinia doesn't seem to mind that.
"Nobody needs to believe that. For this story to work only one person needs to take this seriously, and that's Peeta Mellark. You do your job Caesar, and I'll do mine."
Caesar shivers theatrically dissipating the tension Lavinia set in the room. "Remind me never get on your bad side!"
On the day of the interview, we spend most of the time on the producers' room packing and talking with the tributes. The arena this year will be on the outskirts of District 3, and we need to be there tomorrow at dawn to meet with the team that builds the arenas and set up the producers' stations.
"I just wanted to wish you good luck on your interview today, Katniss." Lavinia takes an awkward pause, taking deep breaths to make herself calm. "Yes, I'm sure you're busy, I'll talk with you later."
Lavinia throws her headset on the table, breathing heavily with anger. "All the trust I managed to built with this bitch is gone."
"She's still not engaging?" I ask.
"She's not exactly the forgiving type," she says tearing a handful of files apart, before throwing them on the garbage. "At least the boy isn't a lost cause. He's too polite to shut me down."
"Are you sure?"
"We'll find out that tonight after the interviews," she says, with a sly smile forming on the corner of her lips.
The interviews are about to start, so we drop everything to watch them. Lavinia quickly tests the cameras on District 12's floor, and the control systems while the place is empty. It's almost showtime, and I'm getting nervous. Something tells me that regardless of the results, I'll not be happy about them.
Caesar opens with few jokes to warm up the audience, but soon calls the girl tribute from District 1. She practically floats to the stage in a see-through golden gown. Cashmere definitely isn't playing around this year. Her interview lasts three minutes, and she's sent to sit on the assigned chair on the back of the stage.
The three minutes must feel like an eternity for the tributes, but it goes in a flash for us. Cato does a lot better than I expected, he's cocky, smart and incredibly charming. Which I can not say about his district partner. She barely says two words, but she looks like she's ready to kill. At least that will grant her some sponsors. The fox-face girl from 5 doesn't do so bad for herself either, she's sly and witty, and the red-headed boy from her district is funny and clever. Overall those were some good interviews, but the actual game only starts with the last district.
Katniss and Peeta enter the stage holding hands. The crowd goes wild at the sight of the two of them together. Caesar playfully asks the audience to be quiet before he starts the interview.
"So, Katniss and Peeta, every single person in Panem is dying to get to know you two, what do you think about the Capitol so far?"
They give fake but believable smiles. Peeta seems to be the one with the talent for interviews because he leans in first. "We love it here, the people in the Capitol are great. Katniss and I are so grateful for this opportunity."
"I have to say when I saw you two on the Chariot Ride my heart just stopped. The whole concept, the flames, the kiss! Oh, it was magnificent!"
"It was all thanks to Cinna and Portia," Katniss says. The camera pans to the stylists while the audience applauds them. They wave for the crowd and blow kisses to Katniss and Peeta, who respond with warm genuine smiles.
"Well, the kiss was our idea," Peeta says, with a mischievous smile. He's good, that takes back the audience's attention who laughs and sighs for their young lovers. They're on the palm of Peeta's hands, for now.
"Oh, I bet you can't keep your hands off her!" gushes Caesar, overly excited.
Peeta wraps his arms around Katniss waist. She gives him a shy smile while visibly blushing. "It's really hard when I have to," he says, looking at her.
"So is it difficult when you have to share Katniss' company with Gale?"
Caesar's words fall like a bomb and have the exact effect we expected. Peeta is a good speaker, but he lost the control he had over the interview as the audience gasps and starts to murmurs among themselves.
"What are you talking about?" Katniss asks. The blushing, the shy smiles are all gone.
"Oh, let's just say a little bird told me about your very modern arrangement with a handsome lad name Gale Hawthorne. Now Peeta, you and Gale are also a thing, or his just him and Katniss?"
"Listen-" Katniss' aggressive tone is quickly cut by Peeta, who gives a loud seemingly genuine heartfelt laugh.
"Wait, do you mean Katniss' cousin?" he says, as he laughs the audience starts to feel comfortable again, lifting the tension Caesar's statement caused. "Look, 12 may be a little backward, Caesar, especially comparing to the Capitol, but we don't date our cousins!"
"Could you imagine that?" Katniss adds. They're both laughing now and getting a big positive response from the audience.
"Caesar is going to be pissed, we made him look like an idiot," Plutarch says.
"Please, we're all someone's pawns," Lavinia says.
The four minutes are up. Caesar wishes Katniss and Peeta good luck and sends them to their sits. They are still holding hands, but during the anthem, and Caesar's goodbyes to the audience, he doesn't look at her. Lavinia's plan is working.
The hours after the interview are orchestrated meticulously, this is the first real nail in the coffin of their relationship. After the interview is over the tributes usually go back to their floors, but we had some photographers staged near the elevators to get extra pictures of some tributes and their mentors, Katniss and Haymitch among them.
"It will probably just take a couple of minutes, why don't you stay?" Katniss asks. She has a worried look on her face.
"That's okay, I just need some time alone. I'll see you back at our floor," he says, kissing her on the cheek and leaving.
"Yes!" Lavinia yells, "oh Peeta boy, you just made the mistake of your life!"
Peeta rides the elevator with Effie. She tries to start a conversation with him but he stands looking at his own feet. Separating Peeta from Haymitch is as important as separating him from Katniss. Haymitch may be a drunk, but he probably already knows we're up to something and could talk some sense on Peeta's confused head, which is the last thing we need right now.
"Peeta, don't you a least want some dinner?" Effie asks.
"I'm not hungry," he answers, leaving Effie alone at the dining room.
Peeta stops in the corridor between two doors, one is the room he has been sharing with Katniss, which we closed, and the other is the room assigned to the male tribute from his district. We left that door open, with soft light giving it a warm inviting feeling. It's subtle but highly effective. Every tribute falls for that, and Peeta is no different.
Peeta sits on the bed letting out a heavy sigh, his eyes full of tears.
"Peeta, are you okay?" Lavinia asks, in a warm maternal tone.
"Yeah, I just need a minute."
"I'm sure this must be hard for you, Caesar had no business talking about your personal life like that, but you did save that interview. That lie about Katniss and Gale being cousins was brilliant Peeta."
"How do you know it was a lie?"
"We have to do a background search on the tributes. It's not perfect, so I did had my doubts about them, but after I saw the tape, I knew they couldn't possibly be cousins." Lavinia lays back on her chair and winks at me.
"What tape?"
"It's security footage from the cameras on the low-income sector of your district. We only got it yesterday. I was honestly debating with myself if I should tell you about that or not."
This is the most decisive point of the plan, Peeta has to ask for the tape, this won't work if he doesn't want to see it. We all watch him in the several screens at the producers' room battling with a myriad of conflicting emotions. I catch myself realizing, that I don't want him to ask for the tape.
"Can you show it to me?" he unfortunately says.
"I can, but Peeta are you sure you want to see it?"
"Yes, I do."
A projected image of Katniss and Gale appears on the wall. They're alone in an alley sharing a long kiss, Gale has his hand up her shirt, while Katniss grabs his hair. It looks very realistic with the time, and budget we had, the security camera effect disguises the 3d rendering on the face of the actors.
"No. T-that can't be real," Peeta mumbles, his face in shock. "I'm sure Katniss has an explanation for this. She has to have one. I'm just going to talk with her, and she'll tell me what happened."
He tries to open the door, but we locked it as soon as he entered the room. He keeps forcing it, but it's impossible to open it.
"I'm sorry Peeta but today is the final night before the games, all doors are locked. Haymitch didn't tell you about that?" Lavinia says, suppressing a smile.
"Can't you make an exception? Just once?" Peeta begs, his voice is cracking, and his face is turning red as he tries to fight the tears.
"If I could you know I would, but I have no control over that," she says.
Peeta slumps on the floor, leaning in against the door sobbing. He covers his face, but we can see the tears drenching his shirt.
"And that's how is done, bitches!" Lavinia rises from her chair triumphantly. The other producers clap and make theatrical bows to her.
The rest of the night goes uneventful, one by one the producers finish their work and go back to their rooms to get some sleep before we leave tomorrow. I stay behind under the pretext of making last minute adjustments to the storyline, but as soon as I'm left alone, I turn the cameras back to District 12's apartment.
Peeta seems to have fallen asleep. He's still on the floor by the door. I change the live feed to Katniss' room, but she isn't there. I change to the living room, the dining room, even the rooftop but she isn't in any of them either. I finally find her on the corridor, sleeping on the floor leaning in against Peeta's door.
I'm not the only one who can't sleep. Haymitch stops in front of Katniss, he looks uncomfortable, but he takes her in his arms to her own bed.
"Haymitch, what happened?" Katniss asks, her voice is raspy from crying.
"They played a dirty trick on you two, but it's nothing that you and the boy can't fix," he says.
"How? Tomorrow they'll throw us into the arena."
"And while you're there stay together, and stay alive."
Haymitch makes a motion to leave, but Katniss holds his hand. "Thanks, Haymitch, for, you know, trying."
He smiles, and plants a kiss on Katniss forehead. "Don't mention it, kid. I'm just doing my job."
That for some reason draws a chuckle out of her. He leaves the room, and I watch her go to sleep hugging the pillow Peeta used. This girl is going to suffer so much on the next days. She's going to die, and most likely will be violent and by the hands of the boy she loves. I caused this, and there's nothing I can do about it. No, actually there's at least one thing I can do. I can make sure that if Cato follows through with his threat, he'll not leave that arena alive.
Hey everybody! I'm so sorry for the delay, life caught up with me, and I couldn't finish this massive chapter (is the longest so far). But the great news is the next chapter is almost done! So next Sunday we'll go back to District 12 and see what Gale has been up to, and how he's dealing with being throw inside this drama.