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Leilani Theriott
District One Female, 18 Years Old
Interviews
"To start off the night we have Leilani Theriott of District One!"
Running my hand through my hair, I shimmy, taking a large stride onto the stage. I smile as the bright lights and fervent audience greet me, waving my hand as I prance onto the stage. I sit down across from Marcella, cross my legs over one another, and look at him attentively.
Play yourself up.
Make yourself stand out.
That's what Affinity told me and I'm not going to disregard advice from the girl who received the most sponsor gifts in any Games ever. She managed to swoon over the audience and now it's my turn. It's my turn to captivate the Capitol.
"Welcome, Leilani," Marcella says, grabbing ahold of my hand and kissing the top of it. "You're look spectacular tonight."
"Aren't I?" I say, giggling, the artificiality in my voice making me disgusted of myself. I have to do it, though. I have to make myself known for more than just being a rebel.
"Confident, huh?" Marcella says, getting a chuckle from the audience. He repositions himself in his seat, making himself come closer to me. He leans on the armrest, looking at me from the side of his eye. He glances at the audience and then back at me. "Leilani Theriott. You have quite the mystery surrounding you."
"Mystery?" I say, leaning closer to him. "I'm an open book."
An open book. Beneath layers and layers of superficiality and lies.
Perhaps then I am an open book.
"Let's begin with the question that's eating everyone alive, then?" Marcella asks, and I get nervous for a moment, knowing that he could easily ask anything. "Why did you volunteer, Leilani?"
That's easy.
To get away from my parents. To make something of myself.
To get the freedom I deserve.
"I volunteered to make sure all of my years of training and effort were put to use," I reply. "To make something happen with my life. To fight for everything I deserve."
"To fight for everything you deserve," he repeats, nodding his head. "Is that why you joined those protests? To fight for everything you deserve?"
"That wasn't it," I say, gulping. I try to keep the smile on my face, refusing to let him become that intrusive. "I did it to prove a point."
"A point you will prove, indeed," Marcella says, already standing up. He reaches for my hand, and I give him it, and as I stand up, I curtsey. "Leilani Theriott of District One, everyone!"
Letting go of my hand, he lets me depart, and as I walk off the stage, I maintain my eye-contact with the whole audience. Once I'm off the stage, I drop my smile and pass by Ceylon. He chuckles to himself, and for a quick second, I contemplate saying something to him.
But, just as I turn around, he's gone. He's already on the stage.
I take a seat, leaning back in it as I play with the ends of my hair. I pick at them, twirl them, and stare at my hair as I dangle it in front of my face. On the television screen, Ceylon already has the audience all rowdy.
"What about you, Ceylon?" Marcella asks, holding up his hands in the air. "Did you also volunteer to prove a point?"
Ceylon snorts, leaning back in his chair and looking relaxed. "I'm not proving a point, no."
"Then why are you here?"
"It seemed fun," Ceylon answers, making Marcella raise his eyebrow. "Regardless of the outcome, it will be fun. I like to do fun things, Marcella. Why did you think I joined the Rebellion?"
"Do tell us about that, Ceylon."
"We bombed a few places. Killed a few people."
"And that's entertaining to you?"
"It sure is," Ceylon replies, a smirk on his face. "It won't compare to the Hunger Games. At least in the arena, I won't get in trouble."
Ceylon and Marcella's conversation goes on, and I stare at Ceylon, his facial expressions making me uncomfortable. He's so eager to get into the Games, to kill… Was that what training in District One was supposed to do to me? Make me like that?
If so, then District One failed somewhere along the line.
Ceylon leaves the stage, and shockingly, takes a seat near me. He sits there, kicks his legs up onto the table, and rests his arms behind his head. He watches the television, seeing Marcella call Levana up next.
Levana grunts as she walks by me, her hands balled into fists and her arms tight to her side. She walks onto the stage like that, and even though she receives a loud roar of claps and screams, she should realize what she looks like right now.
When she sits down, she still has the grudge on her face, with her lip snarled and her teeth showing.
Why is she always so angry? It always seems like she's angry at just me. No one else.
She should understand that I don't care about her nearly as much as she cares about me. To me, she's a nuisance and a distraction. She's nothing I will waste my time worrying about.
Just like with me, Marcella cuts the easy questions short, going right to the ones regarding the Rebellion. When Marcella mentions Lyme, Levana shifts in her seat, and I never knew such a small girl could get as angry as her. I can see it in her eyes the hatred she has not just for me, but also the Capitol.
"Your grandmother is Lyme, correct?" Marcella asks, and he doesn't let Levana respond. "She was quite the victor. Quite the rebel as well. Which did you prefer, Levana? Lyme the victor or Lyme the rebel?"
"Lyme the rebel," Levana deadpans. "Lyme the victor was the Capitol's puppet. Anyone who wins is."
"So, what if you win? What will you become?"
"I will be Levana the victor and rebel."
Marcella doesn't comment further on that topic and brings up some more questions about her training score and her alliance with Mathias. I hear Mathias giggle from the side, and when I look at him, he winks at me. I roll my eyes.
He's just as bad as her.
Levana's interview comes to a close, and Levana walks off the stage, ignoring Mathias as she walks past him. She doesn't ignore me, though; she stares at me as she walks by, a blank expression on her face.
"Nice to see you too," I murmur, making Jonah laugh.
Mathias is on the stage now, looking the most comfortable out of anyone that has gone so far. He's sitting up straight in his seat, looking right at the crowd and with a wide smile on his face. He laughs at everything Marcella says and more than once fixes his hair.
I roll my eyes.
"Do you think he's cute?" Ceylon asks, and I don't turn around, not wanting to speak to him. "I think you have a little crush."
Marcella's next question attracts my attention back on the television.
"What do you think of the pastries here in the Capitol?" Marcella asks. "Do they compare to the ones back in District Two?"
Mathias laughs, hoisting himself up in the seat. "No, sir, they do not. I definitely prefer my own home-made pastries."
"I heard they're delicious. Do you have a secret recipe? An ingredient that you add to give it that extra… kick?"
"A good baker never reveals their secrets."
"Is it poison?" Marcella cuts in, making Mathias lose his smile for a moment. He gets it back on his face, and Mathias looks away, laughing.
"I don't want to kill my customers, Marcella."
"But killing a victor is acceptable?"
Mathias shifts in his seat, fixing the collar of his suit. Marcella nods his head, and when Mathias doesn't respond, he moves on. They discuss his alliance with Levana and his training score. When Mathias' interview is over, I glance at Jonah, seeing that it's almost his turn. He nods at me, and from the corner of my eye, I see Ceylon waving at Jonah.
I roll my eyes again.
"From District Three, Aella Rafferty!"
The red head from District Three prances onto the stage, bobbing her head side-to-side and flipping her hair. She's wearing a very short dress and is showing way too much skin. There's a difference between looking classy and looking trashy.
"That dress, Aella… It looks great on you," Marcella says, nodding his head and smirking. "How do you feel about it?"
"I like it a lot," she replies, smiling. "It's perfect, actually. It's just like the outfits I wore back in District Three, but definitely not as beautiful as this."
"Back in District Three? Ah, I remember now," he says, making Aella look at him with a confused look. "You were quite the entertainer, correct?"
"I wouldn't say entertainer," she replies. "But, yes, I was quite the riot among my friends."
That's a poor choice of wording. Riot.
"A riot. Interesting."
"Oh, no," she says, getting panicky. "Not like that. People just liked me."
"So, you enjoyed life in District Three, yes?" Marcella asks. "If so many people liked you, you must have."
"It had its ups and downs."
"Then why are you here?" Marcella asks her, and I knew that it was only a matter of time. "If you liked your District so much and you didn't do anything wrong, why are you here?"
Aella goes quiet, pausing before she speaks. "It was my uncle. He got me into this situation."
"What are your feelings towards him now that he got you into this situation?"
"The only thing I have to say is that I will now get myself out of this situation. He might have got me here, but it's my responsibility to get me out of it."
Marcella nods his head, as if he understands the 'situation' she's in. Her interview comes to an end, and she walks off the stage, letting the boy from District Three replace him. When Marcella calls his name, he stands there, not yet moving. After a few seconds, a Peacekeeper comes out from behind the curtain, and then Marlin starts moving.
He waddles onto the stage, a goofy look on his face. He walks the opposite way everyone else did, coming around to the chair from the right side. He takes his seat, the audience in an awkward silence. Marcella attempts to talk to him, but Marlin doesn't get all that involved in the conversation.
"Why am I here?" Marlin asks. Marcella chuckles and so does the audience. "What am I doing here?"
Marcella ignores Marlin's question, veering off into a new topic about his allies and training score. I look away from the television, feeling embarrassed for the boy. If my interview was like that, I would feel ashamed. I would be disappointed in myself
But, my interview wasn't like that. My interview was good. My interview is what will help me.
And, if people don't see it from that, they will eventually.
This is only the beginning.
They'll be surprised with what else is to come from me.
They all will be.
Especially my parents.
Jonah Danick
District Four Male, 18 Years Old
Interviews
"Come on out, Otrera Hale of District Four!"
I watch Otrera take the stage, her hair put up in a high bun and her slim-fitting. She waves and smiles at the audience, and when she takes her seat across from Marcella, she sits on the edge of her seat.
I don't have a problem with Otrera, no, but I would like to see her squirm under Marcella's insistent questioning.
I want to see her be proven wrong. That what she's volunteering for and fighting for is wrong.
"I heard District Four is lovely this time of year," Marcella says, watching Otrera carefully. "Don't you agree?"
"It's lovely all year round, Marcella," Otrera replies, giggling. "Especially in the winter-time. When I was younger, my family and I always went to down to the lake when it froze over."
"Your family!" He exclaims, and I smirk. Otrera was caught – bringing up her family was her first mistake. That's why she's here, anyway. Because of her aunt. Because of all the things her aunt did wrong. "How are they doing?"
"They're doing well," Otrera answers. "I miss them a lot. All this time away from them is killing me."
Mistake number two: She mentioned being away from her parents. That by being here, she misses them. Of all people, I thought Otrera would be one of the smarter ones, but she's disproved that theory. She allied with Ceylon and now she's messing up her interview.
"Why did you volunteer, then, if you're missing them so much?"
"It's complicated," Otrera says, her smile fading for a quick second. "I had to do what I had to do."
Marcella accepts that answer, but I wouldn't. I would keep asking and asking until I get her to understand what she's doing is delusional. That she thinks she can save her family from this deal that the District placed on her. I'm not aware of all of the conditions, but from what I can tell, the District let her off too easy.
They should have served her a harsher punishment.
Otrera's interview is now over, and as she walks off the stage, she walks by my side. She meets up with Ceylon, and as she takes a seat next to him, I see Leilani still across from him. I laugh, actually a tad excited to join them once this is over.
"Come on out, Jonah Danick!"
I walk onto the stage, keeping my arms tight to my side and making sure I walk with a stride. As I approach Marcella, I grip his hand tightly and forcefully shake it.
"Good evening, Jonah," Marcella says, letting go of my hand and we both sit down. "Tell me: What are you thinking at this exact moment? About the Capitol, the interviews. The audience. Tell us your thoughts."
"It's exactly like I dreamed it would be, Marcella," I reply. "The fascinating buildings and landscape. The people are fascinating as well; their culture, their lifestyles."
"What's it like in District Four?"
"It's beautiful, but not like this," I say, holding out my hand towards the audience. "This is something else."
"How did you find living in District Four, then?"
"I enjoyed it immensely. It was my home, Marcella, and I miss it," I say, hinting back at Otrera's interview. I might miss my home, but I won't the same mistake she did. I won't make any of the same mistakes she did. "But, I took the chance and volunteered. I might have left it behind, but I did for a good reason."
"What is that good reason, Jonah?"
"For the first time in my life, I had the chance to fight for something. Of all years, too. This one was different."
"Different in what sense?"
"I have a purpose behind volunteering besides fighting for the Capitol and for my District," I say, thinking of my aunt. My aunt… The one who got me here. The one whose actions put me in the Reaping bowl. "It's more than just the riches and fame for me."
Marcella nods his head. "I understand, Jonah."
"I'm glad someone does, Marcella," I reply. "Not everyone here understands like you and I do."
"That is true," he says, standing up. I stand up with him, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. "Jonah Danick, everyone!"
I bow, letting a genuine smile form on my face. The clapping, the whistling, the screaming… It's all for me. I can only imagine what it'd be like after I won. Walking off the stage, I find a seat next to Leilani, and the four of us sit there, all looking at each other.
Ceylon and I stare at each other, while Leilani and Otrera stare at each other. I don't know where Mathias and Levana went, but in a way, I'm glad they're not here. Levana is too much to handle; she's too angry. Ceylon and Otrera are more tolerable.
On the screen, the girl from District Five's interview has begun. She seems twitchy, not sitting still or leaving her finger nails alone. Marcella attempts to talk to her, she laughs to herself, turning away and not answering the question. Marcella asks her something, but she comes up with own answer for a question he didn't ask.
"You know what my favorite part was?" She asks him, and he sits there, not answering her. "I liked seeing their faces when I broke into their room. The complete fear on their faces… It was worth it."
"What was worth it?"
"Everything I've done," she says. "I don't regret a thing."
Looking away, I turn back to Ceylon, Otrera, and Leilani. They're all watching the television screen, and as Anaise's interview comes to an end, she gets up on her own before Marcella does. She walks off the stage without Marcella saying good-bye, and when the boy from Five begins to walk on the stage, I hear Ceylon laugh.
"What's her problem?" He asks.
"We all have problems, apparently," Leilani mumbles. She looks at me, a smirk on her face. "Some people just have worse problems than others."
On the screen, Marcella is talking to the boy from District Five. The boy's too small to actually fit in the seat, and as he talks to Marcella, he sinks deeper into it. He finally sits up, though, when Marcella asks about his father.
"Your father's company… Did you have experience in it?"
"He sometimes brought me to work with him," Caden says, grinning. "We played around with some of the chemicals. Make some explosions and animals turn different colors. Things like that."
"Only things like that?"
"He wasn't the most ethical man, I'll admit."
"As his actions prove."
They continue to talk about his family and his District. After a few more minutes, though, Caden's interview is over. He walks off the stage, the smirk being on his face for the whole interview. Marcella introduces the next girl onto the stage – the girl from District Six – and she takes her time to walk towards her seat.
She keeps arms pinned to her chest, her head down, and doesn't look up for even a second.
"Don't be afraid, Drew," Marcella says. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"There's a lot to be afraid of," she snaps, her voice already full of attitude. "Like death. But, of course, you seem to be unaffected by. You seem to be disinterested in it."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because no one in the Capitol cares. They get satisfaction out of watching death."
"That's very accusatory of you."
"It's the truth."
I turn away, already seeing enough negativity. She doesn't know what she's talking… None of these rebels do. They're deluded, manipulated, and misled. They don't know what they're talking about. They're not thinking straight.
When her interview is over, she rushes off the stage, her hair covering her eyes and the rest of her face. She runs through the doors, and on the stage, her District partner takes his turn. He walks onto the stage, a smile on his face. Marcella immediately goes into asking him questions about his training score and his alliance. He laughs here and there, looking rather happy throughout it all.
But, the next question seems to stump him.
"So, why are you here, Kolter?"
"Why am I here?" He repeats, blinking. "I'm here because I volunteered."
"And why did you volunteer?"
"I just wanted to get out of District Six," he says, nodding his head, but Marcella isn't content. Marcella waves his hand, gesturing for him to continue. "I was… I was locked inside of a prison. I couldn't take it any longer. Besides, if I didn't volunteer, I would have either died in that prison or be reaped for the Games, anyway."
"Reaped? Why?"
"Because of my father," Kolter says. "So, instead, I volunteered myself."
Marcella nods, going back to talking with Kolter. I glance at Leilani who's watching the television screen, and when I look back at it, I nod my head. Is this Kolter really a rebel? I don't believe so. He blames his father and he said he volunteered for himself. He had purpose behind volunteering.
And so do I.
He has his reason and I have mine.
We all have our reasons to volunteer. Or, in some cases, our reasons to fight. To keep ourselves alive.
I'm doing this not just for myself or for my family, but for the Capitol.
The Capitol isn't to blame for the rebellion. If anything, the Capitol tried to help them. Tried to nourish them and teach them the right and proper ways.
But, the rebels didn't listen. My aunt didn't listen.
And I'm here to prove to everyone once and for all that the Capitol is good.
That the rebels need to be stopped.
That they need to be eradicated.
Claire Dasilva
District Eight Female, 18 Years Old
Interviews
"From District Seven, we have Gerri Faulkes!"
Before Gerri takes the stage, she glances over her shoulder, looking at Nate and I. Cailen is behind us somewhere, and with a small wave, Gerri walks forward. The clapping and screams come as a shock to her, and she flinches, tripping over her feet for a second. She catches herself, sits down across from Marcella, and has a half-smile on her face.
"Don't worry," Nate whispers into my ear. "She'll do great. We all will."
Nudging my elbow backwards, it hits Nate in the stomach, and I direct my attention back on the television screen. Gerri sits there, looking rather nervously. Her hands can't sit still and her eyes are darting all over the place. The conversation progresses well for the most part, but when Marcella brings up her father, her demeanor changes.
She looks angry.
Whether she's angry at Marcella or at her father, I don't know.
"Your father was an educated man, yes?" Marcella says. "I read a column or two from his magazine."
"Did you enjoy it?" Gerri says, trying to be witty, but her voice croaks.
"Not particularly," Marcella answers, shaking his head. "Did you enjoy them?"
"The magazines?" Gerri asks, and Marcella nods his head. Gerri physically gets upset, and she brings her hands up to her face half-way, but then brings them back down. "It was my father's job. It brought my family money."
"Did you agree with him? About what he said?" Marcella persists with the questions.
"Yes," she says feebly, her voice nearly a whisper. Marcella leans forwards. "Yes, I did agree with him. With everything he said. All of it."
Marcella nods his head, continuing on with the questions. Gerri looks uncomfortable now, and as it comes to an end, she can barely keep her eyes open without them tearing up. She rushes off the stage, and when she runs past us, Nate grabs her by the arm. Gerri abruptly, the look on her face making me speechless. She isn't crying yet, but it's there.
"Please," Gerri says, weeping, "Just let me go..."
On the screen, Gerri's District partner walks onto the stage, and Nate lets go of Gerri. Gerri runs through the doors, her sobs now being heard. Only after she left everyone did she cry. I turn to look at Nate, but he points back at the television screen, so I keep watching.
"Audrey Kaman," Marcella says, eying Audrey. "I've heard you're quite the imaginative one. Would you mind telling me one of your stories?"
"My stories?" Audrey asks.
"Yes, the lies you spread throughout your District," Marcella replies. "Those stories."
"They weren't lies, Marcella," Audrey says, getting defensive. "I told them stories of what Panem used to be. I told them the truth of what this is nation is founded on. And, if those are lies, then you are being misled."
"I'm being misled?" Marcella asks. "I can argue that you are."
Audrey begins to get angry. He sits up in his seat, his fingers curling into fists, and Audrey takes a deep breath, sitting back down. Marcella snickers, leaning back in his chair. Audrey ignores his question, and Marcella seems him getting angry with every second the interview goes on, so Marcella changes the topic. When Marcella asks about his family, Audrey seems to calm down and become friendlier.
When he's off the stage, he takes a seat in the corner of the room. He sits there, and I watch him carefully, seeing his eyes close for a few seconds at a time.
"Up next is Claire Dasilva!"
With a light tap, Nate pushes me forward, and I'm startled. I trip over my feet, but I balance myself, walking onto the stage. The lights, the people… It's all so overwhelming. I walk slowly to my seat, already being too distracted with Audrey that I forgot to think of what I could talk about.
I don't know want to mess up.
"Hello, Claire."
"Hi," I say, my voice coming out low. Marcella leans forward, cupping his hand around his ear, making the audience laugh. I feel embarrassed for a moment, but I open my mouth, this time speaking much louder. "Hi."
"That's more like it," Marcella says, falling back into his chair. "So, Claire, I'll go easy on you. Let's start with your family. How are they?"
"My family is good," I reply, knowing he's slowly hinting at my brother. I swallow my anger towards him, already feeling that it's subsided. Was I angry with him? Yes, but I can't do anything about it anymore. There's no point in hating him now.
"Just good? Tell me about them."
"Well, my mother is a nice woman and my father does a lot for me."
"And your brother?"
Of course.
"My brother… He's opinionated," I say, making the audience laugh. It isn't funny, though. He's the reason I'm here in the first place. "We got along really well."
"Is it because you're both rebels?"
"What?" I ask, taken back by his accusatory question. I'm not a rebel… I might agree with my brother, but I never acted on my views. I sat home and watched it all happen. Just because I thought like a rebel, does that make me one?
"Nothing," Marcella says, waving his hand. "Next I would like to know about your token. Do you have it on you? Or do you have back it in your room?"
"Uh, no," I say, my hands starting to shake. My token… I left that in the Training Center. It was a small patch with the Mockingjay symbol on it that my brother gave me. I left it back in the Center for them to find.
How could they have found it already?
"Interesting," Marcella says, glancing at the audience. Marcella claps his hands together, and he stands up, gesturing for me to stand up with them. He shakes my hand, and I look back to the edge of the stage, seeing Nate's eyes widened. "And, with that, we conclude Claire's interview!"
As I walk off the stage, the audience claps and screams. I pass Nate, my whole body shaking now, and I sit down at the first chair I can. Trying to calm myself down, I stare at the ground, breathing in and out slowly. Nate's already on the stage, and although I can hear his voice, I can't bring myself to look at the screen.
I just want go back to our floor. I want to leave.
From behind me, I can hear Nate on the screen, Marcella already questioning him like he did it to me. Like he did to everyone else.
"Red is such a good color for you," Marcella says. "You know what would make that outfit better?"
"No," Nate says.
"A rose colored accessory. Don't you agree?"
"Red and rose is a nice combination," Nate says, his voice cracking. "You know what else is a nice combination?"
"What's that, Nathaniel?"
"Oppression and exploitation."
Looking up, I hear the crowd go silent. It's all quiet, and Marcella chuckles, nodding his head. Nate sits there, and although he looks nervous, his eyes make him look determined. He knows what he's saying and he isn't afraid to say it anymore.
The Capitol has gone too far this time.
Marcella disregards his comment and goes on to other questions. Nate keeps trying to draw him back to his original question, but Marcella doesn't play along. When his interview is over, Nate comes back over, wrapping his arm around me. He sits down next to me, and we look at Cailen who's standing there, a smile on her face.
Up next is the girl from District Nine. She walks onto the stage hesitantly, bringing her hair behind her ears. She nervously takes a seat, staring at Marcella's feet and not looking up. After Marcella asks her about her parents, though, she seems to liven up.
"I'm going to find Gerri," Nate says. "Want to come?"
"I'll wait for Cailen," I say, shaking my head. "You go, though. I'll meet you guys later."
Nate walks away, whispering something to Cailen when she passes him. I go back to watching the screen, expecting Marcella to pester Reanine with questions now, but he doesn't. Why isn't he?
"Why are you here, Reanine?"
"Because of my parents. They hate the Capitol. They hate everything about it."
"And do you?"
"No."
That's why.
Because she doesn't hate the Capitol. She's not a rebel.
At that, the audience screams much louder. They stand up in their seats, and for the first time in her interview, Reanine actually looks like she's enjoying herself. They're only clapping for her because she's one of them.
She's just as bad as them.
Reanine walks off the stage, being replaced by her District partner. Marlon walks onto the stage, sits down, and begins to talk to Marcella. I watch Reanine walk down the row of people, and when she passes the boy from District Ten, he rolls his eyes. She looks upset, but she keeps walks.
Aren't they allies?
Shrugging, I look back on the stage, seeing Marlon is already flustered with Marcella.
"I'm sorry to hear the unfortunate news about your brother," Marcella says, the insincerity in his voice clear. "Do you miss him?"
"Yes, I do," Marlon replies, sitting up in his seat. "The thing I miss most about him is his intense determination drive to take down the Capitol. I respected that."
"Isn't that what got him killed?"
"Isn't that what's going to get me killed too?" Marlon retorts, making Marcella grin. "Will the Capitol kill me too? Or is being here enough punishment?"
"That's a question I cannot answer."
"I'd like to see them try, Marcella," Marlon snaps defensively. "One thing my brother taught is to not back down. To not be weak. To not crack under pressure."
Marcella nods his head, and I look away from the screen, resting my head on my hands. I hear Marlon's interview go on and on, and as Marcella's questions get more intrusive, I feel myself becoming agitated.
Why is the Capitol doing this?
Why is the Capitol embarrassing everyone? Putting us on the spot?
Even me; they put me on the spot. I wasn't expecting something like that… Especially not about my token. With that, they took it too far. They crossed the line.
I'm ready to show them that I am a rebel. That I agree with my brother. But, this time, I'm ready to take action. They won't expect it, either.
Everyone thinks I'm weak. That I'm a people-pleasing pushover. That I'm weak-willed.
But, they're wrong.
I have it in me.
And I'm not afraid to show it anymore.
I've proved people wrong before.
This might come as a shock, but I'm ready. I'm ready to fight. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to go home.
I'm ready to win.
Amias Black
District Twelve Male, 14 Years Old
Interviews
"From District Ten, we have Tasha Levelle!"
The girl from District Ten, Tasha, walks onto the stage, tugging at bottom of her dress. It's tight on her, and physically, she doesn't look all that comfortable. When she takes her seat, she crosses her legs, then uncrosses them, and then crosses them one more time.
I don't think she looks all that bad.
Marcella starts some conversation, but Tasha seems disinterested, constantly looking at the audience and making a facial expression. Marcella, with a grin on his face, leans forward, leaning his hand on his fest.
"So, Tasha of District Ten," he says, catching her attention. "You're all here for a reason, correct?"
"That's correct," she says.
"What's yours?"
Tasha rolls her eyes, laughing. She looks at Marcella, holding her hand out in front of her, pointing at him. "Don't you already know? Doesn't everyone in the Capitol? I mean, you were the ones who reaped me."
Marcella nods his head and goes back to further questioning. About her alliance with Audrey, about her training score, and about what her plan will be in the arena. Once she's done, she gets up, disregarding Marcella's attempt to shake her hand. Tasha walks off the stage, and Lonan takes his place at the side, and when I wave at him, he looks away.
Maybe he's just nervous.
I know I am.
"Lonan Hurritt, everyone!"
Lonan strides onto the stage, actually looking comfortable as he takes his seat across from Marcella. He sits there, staring at Marcella, not letting his eyes look away like Tasha. Marcella goes through the same basic questioning – about his life back in District Ten and his training – and when he asks about his family, Lonan chuckles.
"My father?" He asks, nodding his head. "Oh, I'll tell you about him."
"Please do, Lonan."
"He was something special," Lonan replies. "I think my favorite aspect of his personality was his complete and utter disregard for his own child's well-being."
"And is that why you killed him?" Marcella asks, and the audience gasps. Lonan tilts his head, a smirk on his face. "You can tell us, Lonan."
My jaw drops too, because I never knew about that. I never knew about Lonan's father or anything… I knew why he was sent here, but I never knew that Lonan might have killed his father.
"No, I didn't kill him," he says calmly. "I did, however, unlock the door into my house for the people who did."
Marcella nods his head, as if what Lonan is saying is acceptable. He killed his father; does neither of them see something wrong with this? I glance at Rea, Marlon, and Caden, who are all staring at the television screen in shock.
Lonan stands up, shaking Marcella's hand before he walks off the stage. He walks past Caden, Marlon, and Rea, not even looking back at them. He walks through the doors at the end of the hallway, the door slamming behind him. If I could, I would run after him.
I would be a good friend.
"Next up is District Eleven!" Marcella exclaims. "Cailen Arkley!"
Slowly, the girl from Eleven walks onto the stage, her head lowered. The audience's loud claps and screams make her go red in the face, but as she nears the seat, she perks her head up, putting a smile on. She takes her seat, gently placing her hand in Marcella's hand for him to shake. After the basic questions, Marcella ask Cailen about her feelings toward District Eleven.
"It was a fun place for me," she says, getting a genuine smile on her face. It makes me smile, too. "It was fun to explore, with the vastness and all…," she continues, trailing off.
"What else, Cailen?"
She bobs her shoulders, gulping before she speaks again. "I just would change some things. I think we all would, though. Nothing is perfect."
"Is that why you joined that protest, then?" Marcella asks, making Cailen furrow her eyebrows and get red in the face again. "To change something?"
She shakes her head frantically, waving her hands in front of her. "No, no… I never joined the protest. Or any. I never did anything like that."
"That's not what the Capitol says."
"The Capitol is wrong," she snaps, immediately looking like she regrets ever saying it. She shifts in her seat, clearly wanting to get up and run off of it. I stand there, my hands getting clammy, not sure what she will say next. "I was telling my friend to get out of it, to leave. She joined the protest… I didn't. I just didn't want her to get in trouble."
Marcella wraps up the interview, with Cailen stuttering and choking up whenever she talks. When it's finally over, she rushes off the stage, burying her face in her hands as she rushes past everyone. I look back after her, seeing the girl from Seven and the two from Eight run after her.
I hope she's okay.
The things Marcella said weren't right of him. He had no place to say any of that.
"Come on out, Alumax Derian!"
The boy from Eleven takes the stage now, lacking any emotion in the face. He sits down, brings his one leg up over the other, and rests his arms on the armrests. Marcella looks him up and down, nodding his head.
"I remember when your brother was in that exact spot," Marcella says, and I see Alumax's lip twitch. "You look alike, you know that?"
"How about we don't talk about him?" Alumax says, trying not to become too emotional like Cailen. "This interview is about me, after all."
"We'll talk about you, then," Marcella says, grinning. "How do you feel about your brother?"
"He was my brother," Alumax says, avoiding the obvious question. "I looked up to him. He took care of my family."
Marcella waves his hand. "What about his little spectacle a year ago?"
"Do you mean the time him and his allies jumped off their pedestals?" Alumax snaps. "The time he blew himself up just to prove something to the Capitol?"
"Yes, that is the time."
"I admire him for it."
Marcella nods his head, and apparently, that was good enough for him. The conversation moves on, talking about District Eleven and Alumax's alliance with Anaise. He gets this certain look on his face when he talks about Anaise, and when his interview is over, he sits down in one of the chairs, watching the rest of the interviews.
"From District Twelve, we have Wren Maddox!"
I smile at Wren passes by me, and she walks onto the stage, looking more confident than the rest of them. She was always good at talking, whether with Ashra or our escort.
"Hello, Wren."
"Good evening, Marcella," Wren says, smirking, turning herself towards the audience. "Have any questions for me? You seem to be full of them."
Marcella laughs. "Of course, Wren. I could ask about your safe house or alliance first. What do you choose?"
"The safe house."
"Do tell me about it."
"What's there to say?" Wren asks, trying to make light of the situation. I heard about the safe house she had back in the District for rebels. "It was nice while it lasted. We saved a few lives here and there."
"Was it worth getting caught, though?" Marcella asks. "Was it worth getting reaped over it?"
"I would say so."
Marcella nods and continues to talk to Wren. Wren smiles, laughs, and seems to be enjoying the conversation. When her interview's over, though, she walks off the stage, the smile fading. She almost frowns, brushing by me when I try to speak to her.
What's wrong with her?
"Amias Black, everyone!"
That's me.
I walk onto the stage, trying to do what Wren did. I smile, wave, and when I take my seat, I get comfortable in the chair. The lights from above beat down on me, and when I look into the audience, I clam up. There's tons of people, all staring at me, waiting for me to talk.
Marcella taps me on the leg. "Amias? I asked how you were."
The audience laughs.
"I'm good," I say, snapping back to look at him. "How about you?"
"I'm good as well," he replies. "So, Amias. Tell me about yourself. About your life back in Twelve. About your friends."
My friends.
"I had a really good friend named Aiden. I had another named Krystal too," I say, smiling. I didn't realize how much I missed them until this moment. "Aiden was loud, while Krystal was quieter. I liked both of them a lot."
"Did they join in on the protest that you attended?"
I shake my head.
He's doing to me what he did to everyone else.
"The protest?" I ask, stumped. "No… They weren't there. Only I was."
"Why were you there, Amias?"
"I… I don't know," I say truthfully. I don't know why I was there. Or why I ever thought it would be a good idea to join it. "It just felt right at the moment."
"Does this feel right, then?" Marcella asks. "Does going into the Hunger Games feel 'right?'"
I shake my head.
"No."
Marcella sighs. "It appears you shouldn't have joined the protest, then."
No, I remind myself. I had to join the protest. I had to join to show the Capitol that everything they do is unfair.
This is all unfair.
I don't regret joining the protest, but maybe… Maybe I could've done something differently.
Maybe then I wouldn't be here. Maybe I wouldn't be going off into the Hunger Games.
Maybe…
Maybe I wouldn't be heading to my death.
Author's Note:
This is a really long chapter… It wasn't intended to be. I'm sorry about that.
Can I be honest? The interviews are my least favorite part to do. Too long, too much writing, too much focus on the other tributes and not enough on the one that has a POV. Poll results are also up on the profile.
But, there you go. Next up: Launch.
I'll ask a question:
Did any interviews stand out?