District Eight-

Kelly "Stain" Grid 18 and Keegan Lee 15

Kelly "Stain" Grid 18 POV

My dress hugs my body so tight I can hardly breathe. It flares dramatically at the end but under the bunches of silky fabric is a skin-tight slip that takes my breath away. My heels are high enough that I could touch the roof if I stretch a little. "So why are we practicing for interviews now and not later?" I wobble a bit trying to walk and Lilith swats my knees with a rolled up newspaper. "Don't bend your knees so much!" she cries. I try again and manage to walk forward a few feet. "Humph!" huffs Lilith, her arms crossed across her chest. "And so you know, we are practicing now so that you can focus all of your energy after training for strategy and not what Mo calls "Girly stuff." I nod and continue.

After about an hour of blistering "heel-practice," I can manage to walk in a straight line without wobbling or bending my knees too much. I kick off the torture devices and head down to wear Mo is waiting to work on my interview angle.

Mo is scowling when I walk in. "Damn Leegan. Doesn't want to talk to anyone," he grumbles. "Had a hard time?" I say lightly, trying to lighten his mood. "You could say that," he agrees.

"Okay, so I'm going to ask you questions. Based on your answers I can tell you your angle." I nod and he pulls flash cards from his breast pocket.

"If Caesar asks about your choice of weapon what would you say?"

"Whip."

"Wrong. You avoid the question or outright refuse to answer it."

"Why?"

"Do you want every tribute to know to not let you get your hands on a whip?"

"I guess not."

"Why should you win?"

"Uhm, I have a big family and a twin sister I need to get back to and I've always wanted to be a fashion designer and I can't really do that if I'm dead."

Mo yawns, "Boring, darling, no one cares about that girly make up stuff you want to do. Make up something like a sob story or make a joke. Be likable. Or maybe since you want to be a designer you can mention that if you win you want to be a designer in the Games for your District."

The rest of my "interview" goes along those lines and finally Mo claps his hands and says, "I got it. You're going to be cunning… mysterious. Got it?" I nod and he dismisses me. Only when I get to my room do I realize that this interview could e the difference between my life and death.

Keegan Lee 15 POV

I stare at Mo while e tries to coax an answer out of me. "Can you speak? Are you mute? Hello? Anyone home? Goddammit! Answer me!" I blink and he groans. Who does he think I am? To think that I would speak to a man that uses a crude one-syllable nickname such as "Mo," or a man that blurts out obscenities in normal conversation. I beg to differ! Suddenly, he launches forward in his seat and grabs the collar of my shirt. How dare he? To touch me without sanitizing? Disgusting man. "Listen kid. I'm here to save your goddamn life. These interviews mean sponsors, sponsors mean money, if I have money, and I can send you water or food or a knife. I can save your life, understand?" I offer a tiny nod and he sighs letting my shirt go.

I smooth out the wrinkles and say softly, "What do you wish that I do?" Mo sighs in relief at my voice. He coughs and puffs on an inhaler. "I want you to be shy, cute, smart. Catch my drift?" I raise my eyebrows, "Cute? I am a physicist, a mathematician and a psychologist. I am not cute." "Okay, whatever, be a quiet genius for all I care or just be a genius, but make them like you."

I nod, thoroughly exhausted from all the conversation. I stand, turn and walk away, ready for my training with Lilith. Lilith… that is the name of Adam's first wife before Eve, according to some tales, she is the mother of all demons. Before I enter the room, I resolve not to speak. When I walk in, she is sitting (legs crossed in a suit and slim skirt like a proper gentlewoman) with a rolled newspaper clutched in her perfectly manicured hand.

"Change into your suit," she orders without even looking in my direction. The trim, cotton suit fits perfectly and is very warm. I sit down in the seat next to Lilith and she glances over at me. In a second she's up popping my shoulders with her newspaper, not hard just irritating, and cries, "Sit up straight! Back straight! Etiquette!" I straighten just enough that she calms down and examines me for any other breeches in etiquette.

Satisfied she sits again and says, "If you want to cross your legs, lay your ankle over your knee, only. That is how gentlemen sit. What is your angle?" I don't answer obviously, but I lower my head and think of page 237 in my Quantum Physics textbook. "Ah, shy. I see, in that case…" She nudges me farther back in my seat, urges me to curl my shoulders forward a bit, uncrossed my legs, pushes them together and tells me to clasp my hands in my lap and fidget every once in a while. "There, now you look like a gentleman. Sit like that t your interview and you'll have all the audience thinking you're the most adorable kid ever and couldn't stand to see you die."

I don't want to look like the "most adorable kid ever" but I see her logic. If they think I'm "cute" then they wouldn't want to see me die, therefore sponsoring me and tricking the tribute into thinking I'm an easy target that needn't be bother with.