Chapter 11.
Eamon peeked out through the gap in the curtains. The stage was barely lit, but somewhere out there in the inky blackness was an audience of hundreds of Capitol citizens hungry to get to know the tributes for the first and last time. He headed back to his dressing room where Fingle, Vivian and Alexis were waiting and looked in the mirror. He looked positively dapper in a crimson velvet jacket and black dress shirt that complimented his tan-coloured pants and suede shoes perfectly. Once again, Fingle had exceeded his expectations. His hair had been slicked back with an overly generous amount of gel and he itched it slightly with the back of his hand.
"Eamon, stop fidgeting, it's fine," said Alexis.
"Oh, come now Al, the boy's allowed to be a little nervous after all," chortled Fingle.
Vivian paid no mind to their conversation, instead transfixed on the television monitor beside them, displaying the darkened stage Eamon had just visited. Suddenly it burst into colour and life, and a chorus of applause exploded from just beyond Eamon's room. A sultry figure that never failed to make his eyes pop out of his skull waltzed onto the center of the stage, and Vivian lost her mind at the sheer sight of her.
Tall, proud and confident, she wore a silk white dress that flowed several feet behind her like water. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was light and fluffy, like a wad of fairy floss, occasionally flashing brilliant diamond-studded earrings. Small wonder Vivian and the rest of the Capitol admired her; she was one of the few of them capable of looking properly beautiful without looking like a circus clown. When she parted her cherry-red lips, words flowed kind and clear like aural honey, every bit as dangerously entrancing as President Bishop.
"Welcome everyone!" beamed Florence Whittaker. "What a beautiful night this is, on the eve of the 68th Annual Hunger Games!"
So bewitched were the crowd by Florence's words, they almost forgot that was their cue to applaud. The split-second lull reminded Eamon to go stand in line with the other tributes whilst Florence continued to talk. Some tributes looked very striking, others looked…interesting. As he stood behind Madeline he was unsure which category she fell into. On one hand she looked adorable in a bright yellow sundress, with a large sunflower adorning each of her pigtails. On the other hand, it showed far too much skin for his liking, especially for a 13-year-old girl. Fingle had said the Capitol would love it (which didn't surprise Eamon) but even then, he still felt uncomfortable; perhaps he really was turning into her older brother.
"Over the course of tonight," continued Florence, "We'll get a chance to speak one-on-one with each of our 24 tributes in what may very well be one of the fiercest and most skilled packs of tributes we have ever seen. They have the bite, but do they have the bark to match? We shall soon see. My first guest tonight, from District 1: Jasmine Wilde!"
The platinum-haired girl that Eamon had seen side with Landon against Blair sauntered out. If he thought Madeline's attire was on the skimpy side, Jasmine's silver gown left even less to the imagination. She shook Florence's hand before joining her on the leather lounge, to the sound of cheers and the occasional wolf-whistle.
With little information to go on, Florence's questions were somewhat generic; How was she finding the Capitol? Why did she volunteer? Was she content with her score? Did she live up to her 'Wilde' name or was she more laid-back? And thus it was a similar case for many tributes, but Eamon's attention was undivided, gleaning him some useful little insights here and there. Axel, for instance, mentioned that he didn't favour a single particular weapon, but was more of a jack-of-all-trades.
Up next was Blair, and Eamon's attention doubled. With her long black dress and dark hair obscuring the left quarter of her face, she looked more mysterious than regal – a good fit, given what Eamon knew of her. Interestingly, whilst she answered most of Florence's questions with ease and style, she was more closed off with other, more personal questions, such as her reason for volunteering and the story behind her moon locket Token. Eamon realised in her position he would probably do the same, even though he realised he wanted those answers himself. As she talked, he felt a strange heat creep into his cheeks.
When it was Landon's turn, the crowd went as crazy as he looked. They wanted to know the story of his score of 11, and so did just about every tribute in line.
"Well you know, a good magician never reveals his secrets," he grinned.
"Are you concerned at all though?" asked Florence. "I mean, you've shown your hand now, a lot of tributes surely have to be gunning for you?"
"Oh god, you're right, you may as well just count me out. I've got nothing left!" he trembled, bursting into tears, with his head in hands.
The audience was unnerved and even Florence was a bit unsure of how to continue.
"Oh relax," he said looking back up and laughing. "If you take one thing away tonight, it's that you do not ever count me out. I don't care if I'm bleeding, face down in the muck, blind, deaf, and dumb. Until that cannon goes, I am still coming for everyone."
Eamon wasn't fooled by his stunt, but he was surprised how many were. Still, Landon struck him as the cunning type and he had only become more assured of that after his interview.
The line of tributes behind the curtain got shorter and shorter until eventually it was just Madeline and Eamon at the front. His mouth kept drying out and his hands were trembling; he'd always hated public speaking back in school. By contrast, Madeline once again seemed so sure of herself. She looked back at him and smiled, grabbing his hand to stop it from shaking. He grinned back at her – he was supposed to be the one helping her, not the other way around.
"Thank you very much Mr. Magnussen, what a lovely boy," said Florence out on stage, as the young District 8 boy walked offstage almost in tears. "Now our next tribute I imagine needs no introduction – not after the Tribute Parade! Give it up for District 9's very own Grain Duchess: Madeline Skylock!"
She did all the right things, exactly as rehearsed. A couple of twirls, a beaming smile, a quick wink to the audience and they ate it all up. Eamon had watched the Games for years and so knew what to expect from these interviews, but Madeline just had the natural talent in appealing to people that he never could. She gave Florence a cute curtsy before taking her seat.
"My my my, isn't she adorable? I wish I was that pretty at her age," admired Florence to the audience.
Madeline laughed, "Oh please. If I can be half as pretty as you at your age, I think I'll be very pleased!"
The crowd 'awwed' as one and Florence swooned.
"Oh my, she's a smooth one that's for sure. Now Maddy – may I call you Maddy?"
"Sure."
"Maddy, I do wonder if you're aware just how many heads you've turned already here in the Capitol; your Tribute Parade was all I heard anyone talk about for the last few days. How did it all come together so well?"
"Uhh... well I was kind of aware of the impact we'd made – one of the tributes brought it up the next day in training. But honestly, a lot of that comes down to our stylists Fingle, Sylvia and Alexis. They put in so much work and our outfits looked far beyond anything we imagined."
"Humble and giving credit where it's due; I'm liking this girl more and more. In fact, can we get a round of applause for the District 9 stylists? Because that really was something else."
The crowd were on their feet before she even finished.
"Absolutely regal outfits indeed," continued Florence, "But of course, you and your District partner Eamon played a part as well. I have to ask; did you plan that amongst yourselves or was it more 'spur of the moment'?"
"We planned it just before the Parade started, and nobody knew about it except us two. We were specifically told not to do stuff like that but uhh… neither of us are very good listeners as it turns out."
Florence laughed softly, "You obviously have a lot of trust in him then. I can't help but notice you using the words 'we' and 'our' a lot?"
"Yeah, we've known each other a long time. Back in District 9 he'd stay with us and he'd help around the house, help me with my homework. He's like a big brother to me and I just wanted the Capitol to see that."
A much longer, more sombre 'aww' rang out.
"That's actually really sweet to hear Maddy. I think we all thank you for allowing us that personal little snapshot. I take it he's been helping you?"
"Yup. I knew virtually nothing about the Games before the Reaping. Eamon and our mentor Nott knew a lot more and they've done everything they can since to make sure I'm ready."
"Well they've certainly done a stellar job! You, a 13-year-old girl who knew nothing about the Games five days ago, managed a score of 8. Now I don't want to get your hopes up, but from what I've been told, only two 13-year-old tributes in the history of the Games have managed a score of 8. How did this… transformation - for lack of a better word – happen?"
"There was a moment on the train where we were I watched a replay of an old Games and I guess I just realised that I can either give up and accept that that I've got no chance, or I can buck up and do everything I can."
"Good attitude. So, what did you show off in your Gamemaker session, if I might be so bold to ask?"
"Uhh, healing," said Madeline looking uncomfortable for the first time.
"Healing? Interesting. Why healing?"
"Well… I mean it's one thing to know how to swing a sword, the problem is everyone else does too. A cut or a bruise could end your Games just as easy as anything else if you don't know what to do about it."
It was a small lie, with enough logic behind it to make it seem believable. It wouldn't be good for sponsors to know that Madeline couldn't kill.
"Well-reasoned. Well-reasoned indeed. Alright Maddy we're almost out of time, anything you wish to say to loved ones back home?"
Tears formed in her eyes. With the constant hustle and bustle of the Games, she'd barely had time to think of her family. After a while, she managed to choke through her words. "Umm, to my mother and my little brother Douglas, I love you both a lot and I'll be home soon, I swear."
"Beautiful words from a beautiful girl," nodded Florence. "Ladies and gentlemen, Madeline Skylock of District 9!"
Madeline walked offstage, barely keeping it together. Eamon wanted to say something as she walked past, but knew she just needed to be by herself in her dressing room. He could not be prouder of her.
"Now we've just been talking about our next tribute, so if anything, he needs even less introduction. From District 9: Eamon Cunningham!"
He forced his legs to move and before he knew it, Eamon was out on center stage. The floodlights and applause threatened to overwhelm him at first, but he recovered and even managed to give a few short gestures to the crowd before greeting Florence. She was even more beautiful up close; he hoped he didn't stare.
"The Grain Duke himself," smiled Florence as he took his seat, "I've heard so much about you."
"Really?" chuckled Eamon slightly nervously, "I'm not sure whether to be scared or curious at that."
"Oh, nothing to be scared about at all, my dear. I want to start, if I may, with Madeline, whom I've just had the pleasure of meeting myself."
"Yeah, sure."
"Now she mentioned that the two of you have somewhat of a big-brother/little sister relationship. Would you say that's an accurate statement, from your perspective?"
"Absolutely. Obviously, she's not my actual sister, but she's as good as. I'm extremely proud of how well she's done so far, you've no idea."
"She's said you've been helping her out, giving her advice and such? It seems to have paid off, is that a reflection of your own skill perhaps?"
I'm not actually sure to be honest," he laughed genuinely for the first time, "Naturally, I'm older so I'm a lot more familiar with the Games and how they work, but I think most of that just comes down to her. We're at the point where I'm not sure I even need to give her advice anymore, she's… such a quick learner. At this rate, she'll be the one helping me before long!"
"Would she be the reason you volunteered? Bear in mind, you're the first volunteer out of District 9 in quite some years, you can understand we're all a bit interested."
Eamon knew questions of this nature would come up. He felt uncomfortable talking about them properly, but fortunately over the years, he had perfected the art of telling the minimal amount of truth that would satisfy the questioner.
"Amongst other things, yes. I didn't want her to go into this alone. I'd be kicking myself otherwise."
"What kind of other things?"
Eamon pondered his answer for a moment, "I guess I just felt more prepared than any other kid in District 9, least of all the boy that was actually reaped. No point in them going in and inevitably losing if I feel capable enough."
"Sound reasoning. Can't argue with that at all. But that's just one juicy item surrounding you that I wanted to discuss, Mr. Cunningham."
"I'm all ears," he grinned.
Florence leaned in excitedly, "Now I have very good sources on this young man, so don't you try and hide it. I've heard that over the course of training, you've been seen regularly talking in private with one of the female tributes."
Just when Eamon was starting to build his confidence during the interview, this intimation hit him like a train. He'd been prepared for all kinds of personal, yet generic questions but at this one he faltered. Especially given he'd never been one for that sort of gossip himself. The sudden buzz of the crowd wasn't helping. Was she referring to Blair? His mind flashed back to earlier when he was watching her interview; the burning feeling in his face and his urge to know things about her he really shouldn't have cared about otherwise…
He tried to stall for time to compose himself, "Well yeah, that would be Madeline. You spoke to her a few minutes ago," he smiled weakly.
"Oh no no no, you're not getting out of it that easily! I'm talking about a different girl from a different District. I'll keep her name just between us, don't you fret, but I have to ask, is there anything… going on there? Just a little, maybe?"
"Boys and girls get together all the time to talk about things. You know, alliances and so on."
"That's not quite the picture I've been painted," she pressed.
Eamon genuinely didn't know what to say except, "Sounds like quite a picture. I'll leave that one to your imagination then."
"Oh, you're a diplomatic one, aren't you?" she teased.
He forced another laugh, anything to regain his composure.
"I did have one more thing I wanted to ask you about before we end, and that is Nott Watson."
"Yeah, go for it."
"For those who don't know, Nott Watson won the 54th Hunger Games rather famously. He was brilliantly methodical, his tactics hitherto unseen. He was the previous District 9 Victor and now your mentor I believe?"
"That is true."
"And I believe he's also… your father?"
The audience was still buzzing from before and the din reached an even higher pitch with this revelation.
"Adoptive, yes," he corrected her. "We don't have the same last name obviously."
"We've had tributes before raised by previous Victors of course, but I have to ask, what's it been like to be raised by one of the greatest Victors in the illustrious history of our Games? Has he given you any tips? Was he an inspiration?"
Eamon sighed for a moment, "Tough questions. I definitely look up to him, but I didn't volunteer because of that, if that's what you mean. And yeah, he's given me plenty of advice, which is part of the reason I feel so capable. In some respects, I guess I'm more fortunate than others that way."
"Are you hoping to emulate his accomplishments?"
He thought about Madeline before answering, "You mean getting out of it alive? Well yeah, no kidding. But at the same time, I want to do my own thing. If that makes any sense."
"Of course," nodded Florence, without fully comprehending. "One last thing: anything you want to say to loved ones back home?"
Loved ones back home? I have no loved ones back home and this is all a facade anyway, he thought viciously.
The only person he could think of talking to was Leslie, as Madeline had done, but he thought better of it.
"I think some things are best left unsaid," he said gently.
"Fair enough. Ladies and gentlemen, Eamon Cunningham of District 9! We'll be right back with Districts 10, 11 and 12 after this brief intermission, don't go anywhere!"
