Chapter Nine: Irritation, Anticipation, Exasperation

I wake up to a sharp tapping on my door. "Clove! It's time to get, up, we have a big day ahead!"

Who is that? The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't place it…

I yawn hugely and climb out of bed. Still rubbing my eyes, I pull the door open to see who it is that's woken me up.

"Surprise!" squeals Sparkle Trix.

I sigh inwardly. Of course. Sparkle's been absent for the past two days, because her job was to get us to the Capitol – we didn't need her after that, we had mentors and stylists. But I forgot that she'd have to come back to coach us on our interviews.

As much as Sparkle irritates me, I do my best to smile back at her. "Oh, hi Sparkle! Um… I guess you're here to coach us on interviews, right?" I say brightly.

She nods happily. "That's right! Now, you need to get dressed and meet us in the dining room in ten minutes, okay?" With that, she turns on her heel and almost… yeah, she's actually twirling. Twirling and walking.

How people from the Capitol come up with this stuff, I'll never understand.

Well, it's unimportant right now. I get dressed quickly – faded pink jeans (I think that's what they're called, anyway, I've never worn them before), a tight white tank top, and a green headband (really, what is it with my stylist needing me to wear a headband every day?) are sitting at the foot of my bed.

Walking down the hallway and into the dining room, I contemplate what it is I'll have to go through today. Hopefully nothing too torturous – I know I have to spend time with Enobaria, which should be fine… but Sparkle is a nuisance. Honestly, I don't know what it is about her that drives me so insane, but she seriously makes me want to jump off a cliff sometimes.

Cato and Yoh aren't there when I arrive – just Enobaria and Sparkle. "Good, you're here," Enobaria says. "You're going to spend four hours with Sparkle and then four hours with me. With Sparkle, you'll work on presentation; with me, content. Cato's with Yoh right now, so you'll go with Sparkle first."

I try to smile instead of grimace. Sparkle is absolutely beaming at me. "Let's get started!" she trills in her strange Capitol accent.

To say the least, the next four hours are some of the worst of my life.

I don't really mind what we're actually doing – I'm fine with wearing the dress, and the shoes, and I could really care less that my escort spends half the time demanding that I smile wider and sit up straighter. No, it's Sparkle's mere presence that irritates me beyond belief. When the time's up, I practically sprint out of the room.

"I'm here," I pant when I find Enobaria waiting for me in the room where we watched the scores being announced on TV.

She smirks. "I'll bet that was fun. Sit down."

I oblige, and lean my head back and close my eyes, exhausted.

"Okay," Enobaria says, and I open my eyes reluctantly. "There's not much you need to remember for your interview – I've got it all figured out. You're going to pretty much just be yourself. Confident, strong, talented. They'll love you."

I nod. "I can do that."

She smiles. "Now, we're going to practice. Pretend I'm Caesar Flickerman. Just answer the questions and make sure you remember everything Sparkle taught you."

I sit up straight and fold my hands in my lap. Enobaria nods approvingly. "Good." Then she clears her throat. "Alright, Clove, it's great to have you here. Now, what was going through your mind when you volunteered for the Games last week?"

I smile as warmly as I can manage. "Thank you, Caesar. When I volunteered, there wasn't really anything going through my mind except focus, Clove, focus. I'd been waiting for years for that moment."

Enobaria nods. "Impressive. You seem very excited to be here – what do you like most about the Capitol so far?"

I pretend to think it through. "Everything is just so amazing here. I love everything, when I win I'm totally going to live here!"

Enobaria nods, taking a timeout from the practice interview. "That's good, Clove. Flatter them. People love to be complimented."

This goes on for… too long. It's better than working on presentation, but still, when the four hours are up I'm very ready for the day to be over.

I realize that I only have two more nights here before the Games start. Finally. If I'm here any longer I seriously might go insane. This place is messing with my head… it's a good thing I have a whole night to catch up on some more sleep.

But unfortunately for me, night never lasts very long.

My eyes fly open all at once – and I let out a high-pitched shriek. My prep team – all three of their distorted faces are hovering right above me. I cover my mouth with one hand and close my eyes. "You scared me!" I say accusingly. "Don't – don't do that!"

They all ignore me. Quen grabs one of my arms and attempts to drag me out of bed, but she's so small that I can barely feel it. Sighing in frustration, I yank my arm away from her and crawl out of bed, glaring at them.

"There," I growl. "I'm up."

Loionia claps her hands together. "Yay! Now come on, Clove, there's so much we need to do to get you ready for your interview!"

I roll my eyes – none of them notice. "Fine. Let's go, then."

The prep team works on me for most of the morning. The first thing they do is completely erase me. There are no circles under my eyes, my hair is brushed, and my nails are filed. I look flawless, but at the same time, plain.

Then, it gets interesting. Amako works on my make-up – I can't see it, since I'm not allowed to see a mirror yet, apparently, but it seems like there's a lot of it. Quen, who's hand is surprisingly steady, paints my nails jet black. Loionia is somehow making my skin look darker – not a lot, but I look as if I've spent a lot of time in the sun lately.

Maio comes in right around when I'm starting to get hungry. "You're dismissed," he says, addressing the prep team. They nod quickly and scurry away.

"How are you, Clove?" he says, smiling.

I do my best to smile back. "Fine. A little tired, I guess, though."

He nods. "You should get to bed as soon as possible tonight, then. You've got a big day ahead, don't forget!"

I grin and roll my eyes. "How could I?"

"Super," Maio says. "Now, do you want to see what you're wearing or not?"

I jump to my feet eagerly, forgetting my hunger. "Show me!"

Maio leaves the room for a moment, and then he returns carrying a garment bag. "Close your eyes," he commands me. I obey him.

I feel something silky being wrapped around me. "What is it?" I ask curiously.

"Open your eyes."

I've never seen anything like this before. I whip around to look in the mirror. There's fabric wrapped around me… it goes over one shoulder, and there seem to be many layers, but it doesn't puff out or anything. It's just black with traces of – of course – pink and green. My makeup is very dramatic, very dark. I look dangerous. Beautiful and dangerous.

"It's called a sari," Maio tells me. "People used to wear them in a place called India, a very long time ago. I've been waiting for a special tribute to wear one."

I'm still staring into the mirror in awe. "Thank you," I say, barely audibly.

We eat a quick lunch, and then he touches up my makeup. The time seems to fly, and before I know it, Maio is ushering me to the elevator, where we meet with Enobaria, Yoh, Cato, his stylist, and all the members of our prep teams. We make it downstairs, and some of the other tributes are already there. I nod to Glimmer, Marvel, Shell, and Zen when I see them.

Right before all the tributes are supposed to walk onstage, Enobaria comes up to me and leans down to whisper in my ear. "Remember," she breathes, "what we discussed. Be yourself, and make sure they know you're going to win."

I nod confidently. "I've got this."

Taking my place on the stage, I feel as if I've been waiting for this moment for… my whole life. This is where I belong.

I'll be going third, of course, after Glimmer and Marvel. I grin to myself. This is where I have to make everyone love me – I need these sponsors!

Glimmer goes first, and I do have to admit that she looks fantastic. The crowd seems to love her, but I know that I'll be able to do better. Marvel acts very arrogant, completely convinced that he'll be returning home. And then my name is called.

"Clove Flair."

I stand up gracefully and make my way over to Caesar Flickerman. We shake hands, and I glance briefly out into the audience – they all look captivated. Obviously.

I do not smile. Not yet.

"So, Clove," Caesar begins. "What was going through your mind when you volunteered, back in District Two?"

I pretend to consider my answer carefully. "You see, Caesar, when you volunteer, you have to be completely focused. There were no trivial thoughts going through my mind, all I was thinking was focus, Clove, focus. That's what you have to do in order to follow your dreams."

I can hear the audience murmuring, but I don't look away from Caesar. He looks intrigued.

"Impressive. Now, what would you say your chances of winning these Games are?"

I roll my eyes, somewhat exasperated. "Come on, Caesar. I wouldn't have volunteered if I hadn't been completely sure I could win."

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't think there's anyone here who could potentially pose a threat to you?"

I glance up at Cato, and then look away quickly. "Not at all."

Caesar nods. "Okay, then. So tell us about your training score, Clove! A ten!"

"I'm very pleased with it," I say. "My mother always told me that I needed to get at least a nine to stand a chance, and I'm beyond thrilled that I've managed to exceed her expectations."

"Ah, yes, your parents," Caesar grins, leaning forward. "Do you think it improves your chances, being the daughter of two victors?"

"Absolutely!" I exclaim. "They've helped me to prepare for this in so many ways. There's no way I can lose."

"Your confidence is inspiring," he says. The audience clearly agrees with him. "Clove, what do you think of your stylist?"

My eyes meet Maio's – he's sitting in the front row. Turning back to Caesar, I say, "He's absolutely amazing. I've looked gorgeous this whole week, and it's all thanks to him. Look at this!" I turn slightly to face the audience, giving them a better view of the sari. "Maio said people used to wear these in a place called… India, I think. Isn't it nice?"

The audience starts cheering, and I flash them a smile. This sets them off completely.

"More than nice," Caesar says. "You look stunning, Clove! I'd say that your stylist is one of the best this year!"

I nod, agreeing with him. "Definitely. And thank you."

"We have time for one last question," Caesar says. "If you do indeed win, Clove, what would you like to do with your life?"

I don't have to think about this one at all. "That's easy. I've been thinking a lot this week, and I really think that I'd enjoy… designing clothes. Not like the rest of my district, but… clothes like Maio has made for me this past week. And I'd like to mentor other tributes, too, of course."

Caesar raises his eyebrows, and the audience cheers. "That's an unusual wish, Clove. I'm certain you'd be great at designing beautiful clothes. And you'd be a fantastic mentor."

"Thank you," I say. Then the buzzer goes off.

"So sorry, that's all the time we have. Best of luck to you, Clove Flair, tribute from District Two!"

I stand, smile at the audience one last time, and make my way back to my seat. Caesar calls Cato… and this interview frightens me.

He's just not himself. Cato is presenting himself as a ruthless tribute… well, I suppose he is… but he's not only ruthless, he's completely unfeeling. In three minutes, he describes how he'll eliminate the other tributes – many of whom are cowering in their seats – without seeming to even hear what he's saying. The audience seems to love him, though, which I guess is the point. But this isn't the Cato I know.

Yeah, he's ruthless. You have to be, to win the Hunger Games. But he's not a machine. In the past week, we've talked and trained together, he's even made me laugh a few times. But the Capitol doesn't know this.

I sigh inwardly. Cato's such an idiot! He should know that the audience would be screaming his name even louder if he hadn't changed his personality so much tonight.

I don't pay much attention to any of the interviews for Districts Three through Eleven, except for Shell and Zen. Shell plays the sly angle, adding a touch of arrogance. Zen is mostly silent, but like the rest of our alliance, makes it clear that he is capable of winning.

District Twelve. I hate her so much. That's the only thought that penetrates my mind as Fire Girl makes her way over to Caesar Flickerman in that… is that a dress? It looks like it's made up completely of jewels, and – yes, they're sticking with the fire theme. Even her hair – there's red braided into it.

This is an interview I need to watch. Or – no – but this is ridiculous! Oh my God, Fire Girl is pathetic!

She starts out almost okay, making the audience laugh, even, but – she's spinning. Like, actually spinning, making the dress flair out… why is the audience cheering for her?

I close my eyes in frustration. How can they find this entertaining?

"So," Caesar says, "how about that training score. E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

My eyes snap open.

Fire Girl looks uncertain. "Um… all I can say, is I think it was a first." Damn her.

There's no point in listening to the rest of this. Clearly, she isn't willing to give anything away, and I think I've got her personality pretty much down. Brainless, conceited, and I'd think she was totally talentless… if it weren't for that eleven…

When Fire Girl leaves the stage, it's to an unbelievable amount of applause. I clench my jaw. Really!

The positive thing was that honestly, it was a pretty forgettable three minutes. She didn't have anything special. Not like we Careers. The Capitol audience – more importantly, the sponsors – they'll forget about her. I'm the one who will stand out in their minds… right?

Lover Boy is next – finally. This will all be over in another three minutes.

"Peeta, how is the Capitol a change from your life back in District Twelve?" Caesar asks.

Lover Boy smiles. "On the outside, everything looks completely different, but some things are actually pretty similar. At least there's bread here."

Bread? I roll my eyes. Of all the ridiculous things to say. Lover Boy continues talking… he's comparing some of the tributes to the breads from their districts. For some reason, I find myself actually enjoying listening to this – he's a surprisingly good speaker. Of course, that will get him nowhere when the Games begin…

"One last question, Peeta. Do you by chance have a girlfriend waiting for you back in District Twelve?"

Oh, no, I think, horrified. I know what's coming – I've spent a lot of time watching the District Twelve tributes this past week. I'm not an idiot. When Lover Boy shakes his head slowly, my suspicions are confirmed. I look over at Cato. Clearly, he hasn't made the connection yet. He meets my eyes curiously, asking without words why I look so panicked. I shake my head and gesture almost unnoticeably back to the center of the stage.

Fire Girl hasn't put the pieces together yet, either. She's looking at Caesar – who's speaking now – and Lover Boy with her head slightly tilted, a naïve expression on her face.

I can't do anything but wait – there's no way to stop him. "I don't think it's going to work out," Lover Boy says, his voice rough. "Winning… won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

I want to curl up in a ball, because I know what's going to happen when he speaks next, however he phrases the words. Some small, irrational part of me thinks that making myself as small as possible will protect me from the bomb that is about to be set off.

"Because… because… she came here with me."

I was right, as usual.

After a few moments of shocked silence, the gullible Capitol audience loses it. They're screaming, even crying, full of sympathy for the boy on stage and the girl that sits just a few yards away from him – because they're idiots.

Next to me, Cato is staring at Lover Boy, completely dumbfounded. "What?" he whispers, so softly that I'm not sure if he said anything at all.

I don't hear the rest of the interview. When the cameras turn off and the tributes are dismissed, I grab Cato's arm and drag him to an elevator. When the District Ten tributes try to follow us in, I simply glare menacing at them, and they slowly back away.

"What the hell was that?" Cato spits.

I shake my head, eyes tight. "Don't be so naïve. You really didn't see that coming?"

"Whatever! I don't care!" He punches the elevator door.

"You should," I snap. "Do you know how many sponsors we just lost, because of that stupid boy? A lot, Cato!"

He presses his hands against his eyes in agitation. "I'm going to kill him."

I draw a shaky breath. "Good. Now let's go find our mentors."

I'm pretty pleased with how this came out. I'll say now that the next chapter is pretty short, but the one after that is long... it's the first day of the Games! :D

Review, please! Tell me what you think of the interview. :)

~What the Quell