Response to SibunaMockingjay: Advice? Well, let me think. Looking over my own high school experience, I'd say one big thing for me was reading. My worldview class got me into reading some of the classics as well as books on philosophy and theology. While those may sound boring, I cannot stress how much good they've done me. If you want some recommendations, I'd be glad to give those. So basically don't just take ideas for granted. Dive into the reasons that people do or say things, because you may find some very interesting roots that will make you have a wiser outlook on life. Worldview is so important, and getting a foundation now will help you when you're bombarded by both nonsense and truth in college and beyond. Don't be nervous! By God's grace, you'll pass the test of school with flying colors, I'm sure. If you had any other kind of specific advice that you wanted, be sure to let me know! Thanks so much for the review!
Author's Note: And here's chapter four! This was pretty difficult to write, and I'd really appreciate some feedback about whether or not I did a good job writing people in character. Thanks for reading!
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Time goes by surprisingly quickly. During the precious hours after lunch and then all the next day, I work at various tasks throughout the Training Center. I spend a lot of time studying skills that will help me use the environment to survive, but I do practice with a few weapons, swords in particular. I am able to maintain a friendly air with the tributes from 12, and I develop a bit of tolerance with the boy from 10 and the girl from 5, but nothing like a real friendship comes into being. I try to be kind to everyone, but most of the children are cold and unwilling to accept my compliments or advice.
When the morning of the last day of training arrives, I am nervous. I have no idea what to do in front of the Gamemakers. I have confided in Seeder about my strategy, and although it took some convincing, she is now on board with me. But because my plan is so unusual, she doesn't know how to advise me to perform for the Gamemakers.
"In the end, I don't think your score will matter much if you act according to your plan," Seeder tells me after thinking about the issue. "If you want to keep your strategy under wraps, then I would suggest you do what the other kids will be doing."
I nod, deciding that this is the best course of action. Thresh and I wait in a room of the Training Center for our names to be called until all but Peeta and Katniss remain with us. Thresh's name is read over the intercom and I wish him luck as he heads out to his session. I wonder what he will do to impress the Gamemakers. I don't talk to the boy and girl from 12 while I wait; I can sense their trepidation, and I'm not exactly calm either.
In about twenty minutes, the speakers burst to life as an emotionless voice calls my name. I stand, let out a slow breath, and walk to the room where the Gamemakers wait to see how likely I am to survive. They seem to have been interested during Thresh's demonstration, though they are becoming distracted by food while I look around for something to toy with.
To grab their attention right off the bat, I start by showing my decent skills with a sword. I also throw a blade or two and fire a slingshot. Then I move on to take a test on plants, which I ace easily, and make a fire. All in all, my performance didn't reveal my expertise in anything but plants, though it did show that I have become fairly well-rounded. Good enough for me.
The whole group supporting 11, including mentors, escorts, prep teams, and tributes, is very excited when Thresh receives a score of ten. It does not truly surprise me; he is so big and strong that he's got more than a good shot of winning these Games. I am flattered when I scrounge up a seven, and everyone tells me that a seven is plenty high enough to get sponsors. My strategy for the Arena does not require sponsors, but since I don't really care about wasting rich people's money, it doesn't bother me that some may buy me things even if I don't want them. Besides, maybe they'll just send me food; that I would definitely accept.
The following morning, Seeder and I try to decide how we want me to approach the interview with Caesar Flickerman. I am terrified of public appearances, and while I was spared paralyzing fear when on stage at the Reaping due to everything else that was in my mind, tonight will not be so easy. She tells me that most tributes try to act a certain way so that they can be defined: bold, cool, innocent, murderous, or other attributes. I try to answer her using several different character strategies, but I am not satisfied with any of them.
"Why does it really matter?" I ask in frustration after we've been at the practice for over an hour. "I don't want any sponsors, and I don't care what the Capitol thinks of me!"
"It does matter," insisted Seeder gently. "If nothing else, it will cement an image of you into the other tributes' minds. And they're pretty important to your plan, right?"
"I suppose," I admit with a sigh. "But the necessity of a good interview doesn't make it suddenly come naturally to me."
"Well, maybe we're trying the wrong tactic," suggests Seeder. "If this is all about the tributes, then you need to decide how you want them to see you."
I think about that for a minute. If I am going to use the tributes for my strategy, then at least some of them have to trust me. I consider all the ways I could act so that people would trust me, but in the end, I settle on the most logical choice.
"I'll try being a slightly wittier version of my normal self. That at least won't bomb in the interview, and it will be easy to keep up in the Arena. Plus it's what the tributes have already seen in training."
Seeder slowly nods after a moment of thought. "Let's see how it comes out."
We practice the questions some more, and now it is much better. I am relieved to not have to think about a technique while I answer. After about thirty minutes of this, we decide officially to stick with my own personality. From there, I head off to try on my gown and learn how to walk and sit properly in it. The dress is very pretty; a light blue color with minimal flare. I like it, and I make up my mind not to be nervous about the interview.
I fail. When the boy from 10, the only person between me and Caesar, is called to the stage, I am shaking like a leaf. There are too many lights, too many yelling fans, and too many questions to answer. What if I mess up? Even if it isn't vital to my strategy to make a good impression, I don't want to look like an idiot in front of everyone in Panem. I take in several quick breaths and try to let them out slowly, but it doesn't help.
"You'll do great," a voice behind me says.
I turn around in surprise, not expected to receive any encouragement while in the Capitol except perhaps from Seeder or my reflection in the mirror. The speaker is Peeta, and he sends me a kind smile that I return. He looks completely cool and unafraid; one would think he gave speeches professionally. But for some reason, his comment gives me some bravery, and when it's my turn, I'm not worried about passing out any more.
"From District Eleven, Amaranth Gleaner!" Caesar announces in his iconic voice, waving me on stage.
I take slow, careful steps into the gaze of thousands of people and sit in my chair, looking towards the audience and praying that I can get through the interview without messing up. I smooth out the skirt of my dress and await the first question, which seems to take years to exit Caesar's mouth.
"So, Amaranth," he begins, "we all saw that you volunteered for that cute little girl during the Reaping." He pauses to let that sink in. "Did you know her?"
"No, I didn't," I answer, trying to keep from being monotone.
"Does that mean that you wanted to go to the Games, like your fellow tributes from 1, 2, and 4? Do you have some sort of strategy?"
I decide to be evasive here to make things sound a little more interesting. It takes me a few seconds to articulate my thoughts when so many eyes are staring at me, but finally I have an answer.
"I wasn't really planning to volunteer and come to the Games; it was a very sudden decision, but I guess you could say that I do have a very interesting strategy. If all goes according to plan, it is quite possible that by the end, I will have won glory that none of the victors from previous Games can match."
Caesar acts like my comments have been extremely brave and confident, though my tone was hardly very strong. He looks to the crowd, which is clapping and yelling loudly, and nods slowly as if for emphasis. "Wow; it looks like the girl from 11 has some pretty high goals, folks!"
I grin modestly and shrug my shoulders, becoming a bit more bold. "You can't aim too high in the Hunger Games, can you?"
Caesar lets out one of his trademark laughs that my sister had always said sounded like an angry duck. I am able to smile wider when I remember her description of the man across from me, and I tell myself that she's watching me right now and thinking of me every day. That makes me feel much better, almost like she's on stage right now. Maybe I am getting over my fear of public appearances.
"No, I don't think you can aim too high," he finally answers my comment, bringing my mind back to the interview. "I like your confidence."
I let out a laugh, which fortunately doesn't come out sounding too nervous or too forced. "I said I was aiming high; I didn't say the odds were very much in my favor."
The audience gives a drawn out aww, and Caesar suddenly switches to comforter. "But you did get a seven in the training; that's a good score. Surely you have better odds than you grant."
I shrug again and smile again. I wonder if my limited gestures reflect my lack of talent at speeches. Hopefully the audience doesn't notice. "I guess I do."
"And the odds aren't always right," adds Caesar.
I stop as I think about that, recalling the morning of the Reaping. It is obvious to most that the odds have never really determined anything of importance, I said. I sure hope I was right.
"They certainly don't determine everything," I reply at last.
"And let's hope that if your odds are lower than you'd like, you'll be able to rise above them," Caesar says in a concluding manner. "Let's hear it for Amaranth from District Eleven!"
The crowd roars for me, and I smile and dip my head towards them as I stand. I shake Caesar's hand and walk off stage, again using careful steps so that I don't trip over my ridiculous high-heeled shoes. Seeder is waiting for me with a big grin, and I know that I have survived the interview.
"You did very well," she praises. "I think the others will have a good image of you for the Games."
I am glad she thinks so, and I grin at her comment. But neither of us wants to discuss the interview further while there are still others going on, so we stop talking and move to the nearest screen to see how Thresh is doing.
He plays an angle of concealed strength, and I think he does really well. The crowd seems quite happy with him, and since Caesar is so good at getting people to talk comfortably, Thresh doesn't come across as too quiet or reserved, though his words are still few and far between. When he exits the stage, I give him a thumbs-up and he gives me a small smile.
I watch Katniss' interview and realize that we're more alike that I had thought. She appears pretty nervous at first, and she also doesn't seem to have a set characteristic to shoot for in her answers. She gets quite a bit of points with the audience when Caesar talks about her volunteering for her sister, and I'm glad I didn't let my interview cross into that territory too much, as that would have taken away from Katniss.
Peeta was born to speak in public, and he breezes through the interview with ease. But he leaves everyone in shock when, at the end of his session, he reveals that he is in love with his fellow tribute, Katniss. At first, I am sure that this must be a tactic geared towards getting sponsors, but looking more closely at Peeta's expression, I am less sure. He seems very sincere.
"Come on, Amaranth," I hear Seeder say. "You need as much sleep as possible before the Games tomorrow."
I shake the drama of District 12 from my mind and head back with Seeder, Thresh, and Chaff to our apartments. What Seeder said was true, and amidst all the excitement, I had almost managed to forget it.
I will be in the Arena tomorrow morning.
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