Chapter 8
Dawn creeps by quickly and yet I don't get up until Wendy dutifully begins knocking on our doors. Heading into the bathroom, I prepare for the day.
The usual breakfast is followed by our prep teams preparing us for the night's interviews. They start work immediately after we finish eating and continuing working until late into the afternoon.
The standard routine of hair wash and waxing takes up the majority of the morning. The main topic of discussion amid the prep team appears to be Alexis' new piercings. She now has a nose ring and four new piercings in her left ear.
"Who are you trying to impress this time?" Aminta files away at my nails, grinning knowingly at Alexis.
As she runs a comb through my hair, Alexis denies unconvincingly that she is not trying to impress anyone. That of course sets them to chattering again. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Aiakos begins applying my make-up by giving me a layer of red lipstick. He then accentuates my eyes by adding eyeliner and mascara.
When my hair is reasonably smooth and free of knots Alexis places a simple black hair band on me. Letting it fall freely across my back, she curls my hair slightly before using hairspray on it. As Alexis does that, my nails are given a clear glossy coat by Aminta. Once they dry up she paints them red. After using tweeters getting rid of the last stray hairs, the three adults finally agree I am ready to wear my interview outfit. Aminta scampers off in search of Alex, who has been working on my dress.
Alex arrives and quickly dismisses the other three. They leave without objection as he begins unzipping the black bag he came in with. Expecting the worst I'm utterly surprised by what lies inside.
"It's very pretty." I'm not lying.
"You like it? " Alex smiles broadly. "It's black to reflect the coal of your district." Or black could suggest that I'm heading to a funeral.
"The white collar adds sophistication to it," I comment.
"Indeed," nods Alex, "Konrad was adamant your dress have a collar for that very purpose. Let's try it on." With that the dress is slipped over my head. Once adjusted, it fits snugly on me. It ends one or two inches above my knee while the sleeve ends a little pass my elbow. It's not ostentatious but there is definitely a certain appeal to it.
Dress now on, Alex produces black heels and suggests I try them out. I comply and walk around in them. The heels are roughly the same length as the ones Wendy had me practice in. They would've constantly kept slipping off had it not been for the straps around my ankle that hold them in place.
Finally Alex places on me silver-hooped earrings. Seeing as my ears aren't pierced, the earrings are clip-on.
"There," he says, adding the second earring on. "Before heading downstairs we should meet up with the others."
"Sure," I reply as he opens the door of my room and holds it for me to go through first.
At the elevator there stands only Wendy, Evelyn, and her stylist.
"The gentlemen have already gone downstairs," Wendy answers the unasked question.
We file into the elevator and head to ground floor. On the way down Evelyn cannot resist twirling around in her grey dress with a bow tied on the back.
Right in front of the Training Centre a stage has been constructed during the day from which the interviews will take place.
The doors of the elevator open to the scene of the other tributes lining up in the order their interview will occur in. Soon we find the other half of the District 12 band in the chaos.
Adam's in a black suit and grey tie. Haymitch wears a collared white long-sleeved shirt under a charcoal-grey vest and tucked into matching grey pants, and a black tie. Konrad looks sharp in a blue tailcoat and trousers and black bow tie.
Because interviews take place with females preceding the males this time, I'm placed first in line for District 12. Evelyn lines up behind me with Haymitch behind her. Adam brings up the rear and will be the very last tribute interviewed this year.
Before long the line begins moving as the anthem plays and we file on stage and take our seats. Looking out at the crowd and cameras present, my hands begin trembling as the reality of it all hits me full blast. Gamemakers can be seen to the right of the stage, in an enormous balcony of a high-rise building. Camera crews occupy most of the other balconies of the ionic and lofty buildings surrounding the City Circle. Prestigious Capitol guests have an elevated seating unit built specially for them with the front row reserved for stylists. All around the Circle and surrounding streets citizens gather to watch the interviews live.
It is a sure fact that around the nation televisions will all be switched on to this event. Therefore it is guaranteed that there will be no blackouts tonight, which District 12 is subjected to a lot of.
The audience cheers loudly as Caesar Flickerman scampers on stage in his gleaming midnight-blue suit speckled with its thousands of tiny electric bulbs.
Every year his appearance remains essentially unchanged; same hairstyle and same exact suit. The only change is the colour he sports. This year his hair in its short ponytail is a dark shade of green.
Caesar starts off the night with a joke or two to get the ball rolling before introducing the first female tribute of 1. She bounds up to centre stage and joins Caesar for her interview, garbed in a stunning yet revealing scarlet dress.
Half a minute into their conversation and it is clear that her angle is flirty.
A minute later and the buzzer goes off, signalling time.
The flirty girl is soon replaced by her female partner, who is clad in an astounding silver silk dress fashioned to resemble a toga.
For the most part I try to concentrate on the interviews but find that the nerves make it hard to do even that properly. What does register is just how sensational a host Caesar Flickerman is.
He has this charisma that brings most uneasy tributes to ease and make them shine. He is courteous enough to laugh at lame jokes and is able to transform a feeble comment into a brilliant one simply by the way he responds. Caesar's chemistry with the audience and contestants alike is truly astonishing.
Properly focusing on the interviews it becomes effortlessly easy pinpointing each person's angle.
Smirky from 2 is proud to the point of being conceited. The other male from 2 is a true sadist. A female of District 4 is extremely egotistic. The younger brother from 7 is elfish. A girl from 9 is disconcertingly composed. One of the girls from District 10 is rather introverted.
All too soon Caesar is introducing the last remaining tribute from 11. He is part of Evelyn's alliance and gives her the tiniest hint of a smile as he stalks by.
Be clever. Be ingenious. Just like Konrad told you to be, I repeat mentally. Despite my self-assurances, my heartbeat accelerates at the thought of being interviewed next. All the sudden the white collar feels too tight as my short breaths becomes erratic. Sweat gathers at the base of my neck and I hasten to wipe it.
My stomach does a flip and my heart may actually have skipped a beat at the sound of the buzzer.
"And now allow me to introduce to you the first tribute of District 12," he continues, "Maysilee Donner!"
I numbly take short strides to where Caesar is. He chivalrously takes my right hand and guides me to the interview chair.
"So, Maysilee, overall where do you think you will rank in the Games?"
The question is so appalling it clears away any shock I had up until recently.
I smile sweetly and swallow back bile. "It really is too soon to say for a certainty, Caesar. There are just so many determining factors."
Caesar Flickerman leans towards me an inch, seemingly intrigued. "Would you care to explain?"
"I'd be more than happy to elaborate," I say slowly to stall for time.
"For instance," I begin, "the arena."
"The arena?"
"Yes, depending on the type of terrain, it could work to one person's advantage."
"Ah! I see! And it could be a disadvantage to another person," Caesar deduces.
"Precisely." This time I try for a disarming smile.
"You mentioned other factors," he points out.
"Affirmative," I agree, "the types of weapons and supplies that are present will absolutely determine a person's rank in survival."
Caesar nods attentively and so I feel the need to continue. "Also the extent to which one prepares for these Games is a massive contributing factor. Oh, and the formation of alliances. Or the lack thereof."
"Well said!" Caesar compliments, "Isn't she something?" he asks the audience and to my surprise they applaud enthusiastically. Will it be enough to gain sponsors though? "And how do you feel about District 12's chances of reeling in another victor this year?" Caesar asks me once the applause dies down.
"Very positive, Caesar, the odds just might be in our favour this year."
"You seem confident. Why is that, may I ask?"
"Because we have such a competent mentor and between the four of us District 12 has never had such a determined group of tributes."
"That's the spirit!" Caesar laughs, "That's what we like to hear!"
He continues after the cheer of the crowd dwindles. "Now, Maysilee, you mention alliances."
"Yes. Yes I did."
"Tell me, what do you see as being the advantages and disadvantages of being in an alliance?"
"The advantages are that," I begin, clearing my throat to stall for time once more, "one would extensively improve their chances of survival when they combine their strengths with another person, health benefits is affected positively with more sleep possible since sentry duty can be shared, and knowledge of the arena and competitors could potentially increase when that valuable knowledge is shared amongst individuals in the alliance."
"Brilliantly put! And the disadvantages?" Caesar prompts.
This time I allow a brief moment to think. "One might find themselves eventually drawn into an alliance they'd be hard-pressed to break if one so desires to go home and face one's district."
Caesar nods intently and his expression is such that there is no denying that he is actually taking what I'm saying seriously.
He is on the verge of asking me another question when right that moment, the signal sounds and Caesar stands up, offering me his hand. I graciously accept it and stand the way Wendy taught me to.
"Ladies and gentleman," he begins and raises our intertwined hands, "Maysilee Donner of District 12!" The applause that ensues is a lot louder than I expected.
Shakily resuming my seat and waiting for my heartbeat and pulse to slow back down, Evelyn takes a seat next to Caesar. Her interview goes by smoothly and it is clear Konrad had chosen polite and endearing as Evelyn's angle.
Before long, Caesar is wishing Evelyn all the best and inviting Haymitch to come forward.
Still in a daze, I'm brought back by the sound of laugher. The audience must surely be getting restless and yet he managed to make them laugh.
"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred per cent more competitors than usual?" is Caesar's next question.
Haymitch gives a lazy shrug. "I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred per cent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same." The crowd erupts into laugher yet again while Haymitch gives them a half-smile.
Just by watching the small interaction between the two it's simple to deduce that Haymitch's angle is to be disdainful and snide. His entire demeanour screams of apathy.
Halfway through a question the buzzer sounds, much to the disappointment of the audience and Caesar himself.
Afterwards Caesar is joined on stage by Adam. Where it turns out he can surprisingly pull off enthusiastic and energetic as an angle.
Eventually the anthem signals the conclusion of the night. Rising from our seats, we only begin moving off once it finishes.
We end up back in the Training Centre lobby, waiting for a vacant elevator. The lobby is mainly filled with tributes. With mentors, escorts, and stylists caught in the crowd outside.
The four of us from 12 manage to find an elevator together. Just as the door begins closing, the brothers from 7 hold it still.
"Is there room for two more?" asks the younger one.
"Plenty of room," Evelyn answers with a smile. So it was that the six of us end up sharing an elevator.
"Damien, will we really be alright?" the younger boy, who can be no older than Evelyn, stares pleadingly at his brother.
"Of course, Axel," Damien consoles. "You're here with your big brother. What is a big brother's job if not to protect you?"
Soon we reach level seven and the two get off. The next time the lift stops is on the twelfth floor.
We stand in the corridor taking in the scent of food drifting in from the dining room when the elevator opens once more. In step Konrad, Wendy, Alex, and the three other stylists of ours.
"Marvellous work, pumpkins! Now let's eat while the food is still hot." Wendy then leads us into the dining room. Where we are served potato salad with sour cream, pork chops with cream gravy, bacon double cheese stuffed burgers, chocolate pudding, baked berry custards, and bite-sized square-shaped rolls. Wendy explains the rolls as belonging to District 3.
We watched the rerun of the interviews in the sitting room after supper.
The anthem is playing as Konrad says, "The four of you did exceptionally well. You may have even won over a sponsor or two."
"Not that we should get our hopes up just yet. Got any last piece of advice for us?" asks Adam.
"Try to maintain a stable body temperature. Water is your first priority; a person can die of dehydration in just three days, you know. Oh. And don't do anything stupid at the Cornucopia. In fact, stay away from it at all costs. We don't need you dying in the initial bloodbath. Just run and place as much distance between you and the other tributes as possible."
"And if we somehow survive the carnage? What then?" Adam presses on.
Before Konrad can answer, Wendy suddenly gives me a hug, unable to hold it any longer. "I'm going to miss you, Maysilee." She then goes around to each tribute and hugs them. This is her saying good-bye. Tomorrow we'll leave for the arena and she'll go with Konrad to the Games Headquarters. There they will meet with any possible sponsors and, between Wendy and Konrad, hopefully devising some sort of plan for sending us gifts.
Our stylists will accompany us to the actual arena, so those farewells can wait.
Goodbyes said Wendy leaves a little teary eyed with the four stylists. Then it's only Konrad left. "Work hard in there and we'll work hard on getting you out," he says before walking off.
Nothing more to do, we go our separate ways to change and try to sleep.
The Games don't begin until ten in the morning but we must get up earlier. As there's no telling how long we must travel to reach the arena.
After several hours of tossing and turning in bed, I give up trying to sleep. It is absolutely vital to rest now because there is no telling how much sleep we'll ever get in the arena. Sleeping in the open may well result in getting your throat slit in the Games.
Nevertheless, I'm too anxious to sleep at all. Hoping that it will help, I get up and pour a glass of warm milk for myself. Turning on the television, I decide to watch something while drinking the milk.
A Game five years ago is replaying and while watching a boy loose his left hand with an agonising scream, a voice from behind startles me.
"That eager to start the Games are we, Blondie?" It's oddly amusing to hear Konrad repeat the first question he ever asked me.
"Couldn't sleep either?" I guess.
"Not with the plaguing nightmares."
"Nightmares?"
"It's funny. Everyone always talks about the magnificence and splendour of becoming a victor. And yet no one ever thinks to mention the never-ending flashbacks, or the gory nightmares, or the relentlessly present feelings of guilt."
"You're fighting through this to see your family again, aren't you?" Konrad continues suddenly.
"Of course."
"And are you aware that some people don't even have proper families?"
"You're referring to the death of Evelyn's parents," I guess again.
"Haymitch's father, too," states Konrad simply. "James died protecting his eldest son from Peacekeepers when he got into trouble with the law as a young boy. That inevitability left his wife, Sasha Abernathy, to raise their sons all on her own."
Listening, I can't help thinking out loud, "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Knowledge can be a useful thing," he all but answers vaguely.
We go back to watching the previous Games in silence. Eventually I fall asleep to the sound of a person's agonised and blood-curling screams as the now one-handed tribute hacks off a fellow tribute's arm and stabs them between the eyes. There is a thump as the body falls to the ground. The cannon that signals the death of the tribute causes me to stir in my sleep.