My prep team was at me again, ripping out any hair that had grown in over the last two days.
"Please let me correct your vision," pleaded one of them, "It will be just a small pinch and your sight will be corrected forever and-"
"No, please." I respond. "I'd rather not."
He frowned. "Fine," he answered in his thick Capitol accent, "But you are wearing contacts again for the interview. Let everyone see those blue eyes."

A couple of hours later, I was standing outside of the interview area. My hair was down and brushed my shoulders. The prep team had put something in it to make it look prettier than it really was. Blue eyeshadow circled my eyes and then faded out. My dress was a simple dark blue with transparent sleeves and a green sash around the waist. I looked pretty, but still very small.

All the other tributes were in the line with me, Rone standing behind me and the boy from district three in front of me. Svetlana walked up to me and gave me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Remember what I said."

I nodded. While I was dressing, Svetlana had told me to act as the innocent, sad, and weak tribute. If people felt bad for me, there was a possibility of getting sponsors when the citizens found out I had potential to win these games.

Then it was time to go on. All of us were paraded on to the stage and were told to sit in a neat semicircle of chairs. Ceasar Flickerman sat on the other side of the stage with two chairs, one of which he occupied. One by one we would each go up there and have a three minute interview. Looking out into the audience, I could feel my stomach drop. Thousands of Capitol residents sat waiting, and many more were watching on TV screens. What if I messed up? What if I did something wrong? I was suddenly relieved to be in one of the first districts. That would mean I could just get the interview over quickly and not have to stress about it.

The lights went up, the TV cameras flicked on, and everything was beginning. Ceasar Flickerman made his introduction, showing off his canary yellow hair and matching suit, and the audience cheered. It was full of Capitol citizens, of course, with the stylists and trainers occupying the first few rows. He gestured to us, the tributes, and the audience cheered again. I looked for Svetlana in the crowd, trying to find her comforting face. I found her in the second row next to Homora. She gave me a comforting grin. I smiled back weakly, hoping I didn't look too fake, especially for the cameras. Most of the innocent, small little girl I was going to show off today wasn't really me, but the people of Panem must not know that. Today, I had to act like someone I was not, and everybody had to believe it, or else my plan would not work.

Before I had a second to collect my thoughts, the interviews began. Jewel walked up the stage, sparkling in a beautiful white gown that was sleek around her body, cut down at her neck, and glistened with sparkles. She laughed with Ceasar, talking about little things like her dog and funny stories from her child life. She veered away from topics such as the games and killing, something I had never seen a career tribute do before. Jewel could kill, I had seen her chop off a dummy's head with a sword and throw an axe fifty feet to hit a target. Howevver, it seemed as if she didn't want to be known as the girl who could kill. Her district partner, Beau, also talked fondly of his childhood but also left some remarks about being one of the top at his training school back in district one, and how he would do anything to win these games.

Ellia fit more of the typical career interview. Her dress was black with a strike of red circling around and the red, black, and white of her eye makeup made her yellow eyes pop. She was menacing, and wanted the entire country to know so. Reagan from her district tried a similar approach. Both tributes from district three seemed jiterish and clearly very nervous.

Then, it was my turn.

My legs felt like jello as I walked up to the interview area. Caesar shook my hand and I sat down on the bright red chair.

"So, Lottie Wilson," he began, crossing his legs.

"Yes," I answered quietly, trying to give my best impression of a weak smile.

"You're only twelve years old, is that correct? And you volunteered! You may be from district four, but it is true you have never even been to a training camp?"

I nodded. I made sure that I made little to no eye contact with Caesar. Svetlana had told me that this gives the audience an impression that I am anti-social. I instead try to focus my eyes on his hair or on his suit.

"Then what was your reasoning for joining the Hunger Games at such a young age and with no training?" he asked inquisitively.

I shrugged. "I figured the games would be a chance to do something with my life. At home I was always ignored and shunned, and I felt as if the games would help me change that." I looked down, "Nobody liked me much."

There were some faint "aw's" from the audience. Good. They were getting sympathetic.

Caesar switched his legs. "So what do you think your odds are in winning, you know, tying for having the lowest training score?" Tying? I didn't know there was somebody else who had received a two. I didn't pay attention after my score had been announced. I shrugged again and shrank down, trying to make myself look down.

"I can try."

At the tip of my last word, the timer rang out. Caesar and I stood and he grabbed my had. Raising it he said, "Your female tribute from District Four, Lottie Wilson!"

Walking back to my seat, I was unsure of my impression tot he audience. Did they feels sorry for me, or was I too boring? Would this plan work, or did I somehow screw everything up. I barely noticed Rone going up to join Caesar. I took my seat on the side of the stage, and looked for Svetlana. When I did, she was smiling. That must be a good sign.

In an effort to ignore Rone's interview, I decided to entertain myself by looking at my feet instead. I already knew what Rone was going to say anyway. His sessions with Noje and Umanda were not done in private, and I was able to observe them all. He was going to appear tough and ruthless, worthy of many sponsors. There was no doubt that Rone would be able to kill without a second glance.

I sighed and thought about the way district four used to be, the way people loved each other, and even though a career district, people always had a glimmer of light in them. I watched the old games where the district four tributes would be the most hesitant to kill, and were mostly very kind. Twenty-five years ago, District Four had a rebellion, and we had to pay at the hands of the Capitol. This included increasing our Peacekeepers and limiting our freedoms. As if by magic, school children turned from accepting to hating, and tributes went from sweet to murderous and hostile. Less than thirty years ago, District Four was a wonderful place. Now, it was a place I couldn't wait to escape from. Carmella was a rare shining hope in District Four, only to be turned stone cold by the games.

When Rone was finished, I decided to pay a bit more attention to the other tributes to see what my competition would be. The first to stick out to me was the girl from District Seven who had apparently been the one to tie me for lowest training score. She had a dress similar to mine but in a green that blended with her dark skin and illuminated her. She couldn't be older than me, and was probably around my height also. This was the girl who had been forced by her district partner to participate in the training. He either must have cared about her or had had order from his trainers. Either way, it didn't help much. I couldn't tell if she was putting on a show to appear weak like I was, or if she really was weak and fragile. Her dark eyes were sad and looked down. She talked to Caesar about her little sister back home, and how much she missed her entire family. At one point she looked as if she was going to cry, and thought I even saw a tear running down her cheek.

Other tributes to watch were the boy from nine and the girl from twelve, the ones I swore liked each other. They had both received high training scores, and they both had something to win for: each other. I noticed their quick glances toward each other during their interviews, and the way they would smile at each other. There was something there, that could not be doubted.

As the last tribute took his bow, the cameras flicked off, we excited the stage, and were led to our floors so we could rest for tomorrow.

For tomorrow, the Hunger Games began.

Thank you everyone for supporting the story! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I'm really excited to write it so it may be soon!