It wasn't as cold as I'd thought it would be, but I had my jacket on anyway. It didn't matter.
I see the back of Antonio's head.
My heart stops in my chest, and my brain stops working. My human instinct says 'run', my hunting instinct says 'shoot' and a new, strange part of my brain says, 'move toward him. he's safe.'
My feet move on their own. I'm right beside him, and my heart is racing. No one's made me more nervous in my life.
"I couldn't sleep." He says.
"Me either," I reply, it came out several octaves higher than i would've liked. We sit in silence for a while. I play with the end of my jacket.
Then, he turns toward me, "You want to know what I miss?"
"Miss?" I ask.
"Yes," He says, looking toward the din of the city below us. In our district, people are returning from the coal mines, everyone else is asleep. Not here, everyone is having a party. My stomach churns, and I can't help but feel a bit superior.
"What is it?" I ask.
"The tomatoes."
My eyes widen as I remeber that Antonio was never as poor as I was. He could buy tomatoes. He could eat them every single day and not feel any guilt. My body shakes in anger.
How dare he.
How fucking dare he.
It sounded so smug, coming from him. Waving his higher social standing in front of my face.
"I heard they taste like shit," I say. I hope it triggers a nerve.
It doesn't. My God, he is an idiot.
"They are muy del-very good."
I catch him, The GameMakers are watching. They want to hear English. A language they can understand. Not Italian. Not Mandarin. Not Spanish. We could conspire against the Corp. with our mother tongue. It was the stupidest thing I ever heard.
This little remembrance builds my anger.
Then, I feel his arm around me. His body is warm, his breath smells like cinnamon bread, and his eyes are still as pretty as I remember them. My heart thumps against my ribs painfully and suddenly I realize that in a few short days this boy will be fighting to the death in an arena.
"Are you cold?" He asks, my face turns an embarrassing shade of red.
"Not now." I say.
I can let my anger go for now. No doubt the GameMakers caught this on tape, because I see the camera lower down into The Slaughterhouse.
The next morning is a blur, all I remember is Yao dressing us for the interviews, and a lush taxi car taking us to the Chapel.
It was a playhouse, they still produce plays here. But today, people come for the Hunger Game highlights, The Story of the winning tributes, and most importantly, The Interviews.
Arthur tries to run lines by me again, but they go through one ear and out the other. Yao was getting bitched out by Felix about the 'tuxs not matching' or whatever. I let out a sigh. Once we are alone, Yao puts on my makeup. Felix insisted that it was make me look less angry.
"Yao, I don't understand..how do I make them like me!"
"Be yourself, aru." He says, "Pucker your lips."
I do, the gloss goes on in globs. I'm tempted to lick it off because of the irritation it causes on my lips.
"Pepole like you." I say, "What do you do?"
"I am myself," He answers.
"That's not an option," I look down at my feet. He tilts back my head and examines his work.
"Perfect, you look so young!" He grins and helps me out of the chair. Yao grabs my shoulders gently, "I'll be right there. Find me. Pretend thay we are having a decent conversation."
He moves away from me and I look in the mirror. He was right about me looking young. My eyes are brighter, my skin looks flawless, and my lips are fuller. I look so innocent.
Yao smiles, "Spin."
"What?" I raise my eyebrow.
"Spin around, Lovino,"
I do, I look like I'm engulfed in flames. I look beautiful, like a flame on a candle. Yao kisses my forehead like Bela would before ushering me out.
Before I know it, I'm waiting in line for the interviews. I was never any good at being social. Never. I had one friend my entire life, and that was a mutual pact for survival, not because I was funny or charismatic.
I pass the time chewing my nails and biting my lips.
Tribute after tribute goes by. Classy, funny, sexy, smart, or scary. Each dressed so perfectly. It makes me want to puke.
12 is called. I'm scared I'll fuck this all up. I walk up on that stupid stage. Everyone claps, because I'm part of the perfect pair. I smile, just a bit.
Love. Love. Love. I'm in love.
I smile politely and Simon Densen smiles back. Simon has been the interviewer ever since I could remember. I don't think there was ever a time that he was not standing on the Chapel's giant stage, smiling with his retarded little black hat.
The clapping dies down, and he clears his throat. I suddenly go deaf. All of District 1 is in front of me, judging me, placing bets on whether or not I'll die in an arena of their design. My stomach and throat fill with vile. Oh god, don't let me puke.
I turn to Simon, he looks at me expectantly.
"Oh, I'm sorry what?" I blink.
The crowd roars with laughter.
"We can tell that he's a bit nervous can't we?" He chuckles.
I swallow, forcing the impending vomit down into my stomach.
"Well, it's not everyday I get to be interviewed," My attempt at being funny is weak, but Simon and the crowd eat it up.
"Let's begin with those outfits at the Opening Ceremony! My heart almost stopped dead in my chest! They were beautiful," He turns toward the crowd, "Didn't you all feel the same?"
They nod, applaud, and cheer.
"My heart stopped too," I find Yao over Simon's shoulder and grin bigger than humanly possible, "I thought I was going to be barbecue!"
"Oh so the flames are real!" He looks surprised.
"Yes," I look toward Yao, "In fact I'm wearing them now."
Yao nods at me.
"May we see?" Simon asks.
I stand, and spin. I'm in flames.
The crowd booms and the room fills with excitement. I start slowing down and finally stop.
"No don't stop!" He chuckles,
"I have to! I'm dizzy!" I laugh, dryly.
"Since your time is running out, I have one more question. About your brother."
My breathing stops.
Simon looked at me, "What went through your head at the Reaping?"
"My fratello means everything to me," I spit out, before thinking of a proper response, "If he got hurt or killed I would never forgive myself."
The audience awed.
Simon dabs at his eyes, "Wish I could say the same about my brother."
My time is up.
I sit down in my seat, Arthur gives me a thumbs up.
Antonio goes up. Everyone claps, because he is the poster child of fear and innocence. He's naturally charming, this should be a snap. I don't pay any attention till the end.
"So, Antonio, you're a handsome young man, do you have anyone special at home?" Simon winks.
"Someone, but he'd never notice me." His eyes shine.
"I'm sure he has now," Simon's face brightens, "What's the lucky fellows name?"
"You know it, he actually came with me," He smiled shyly. The room gets silent.
"Oh, my."
My face is blood-red, I'm angry and embarrassed. I can feel the camera on me. I look at my feet.
This wasn't part of the plan. Arthur didn't tell me he would pull this stunt. I don't know why I'm surprised though. He needed to jumpstart the romance, and fast.
The would-be Spaniard laughs nervously, "I know, bad time for that sort of confession."
"I'd say! We're rooting for our star-crossed lovers. Hopefully, they stay alive!"
The interviews are over.
I run as fast as I can outside.
