Chapter Ten
Waking up is one of the strangest feelings in the world. At first, you have no idea what's going on, until you realize where you are and then you're hit with the worst memory, like that you have a test that you didn't study for, or that you had a interview that determined if you lived or died, or if your mentor had just forced you to end the only thing you enjoyed about the games. I groan into the pillows.
"Rise and shine!" Johanna yells though the door, "Get up! Aiola's not letting us eat until you get up so move!"
I'm not in the mood for breakfast. The thought of facing Johanna after what she forced me to do to Peeta last night is enough to make me punch a wall. But still, I'm hungry and the thought of the delicious syrup from yesterday wins me over.
After making sure I'm an additional fifteen minutes late, I arrive at the dining room and I sit down. I start eating, muttering into my plate. Johanna stares challengingly at me, while Blight and Rilien ate and try to avoid my eyes. I'm just waiting to get angry and they can tell.
"Interview day," Aiola chirps, completely ignorant of the mood in the room. Another reason I'm looking at my plate: Aiola's outfit. Blindingly bright, with literal lightbulbs attached that change colours so fast I wouldn't be surprised if I get a seizure. "Katniss, you'll come with me first then one of your mentors is going to help you figure out how to make yourself likeable, alright?"
I nod glumly. The interviews are at seven, so that means only four hours with Aiola and another four with Johanna and Blight. At the moment, even spending time with the person I can't look at without squinting sounds more appetizing than my mentors.
Four hours later, I take my statement back. Every inch of my feet hurt from the tight heels, my back hurts from the stiff posture Aiola imposed on me and my eyes hurt from looking at her. Every single detail about me had been fixed, even the ones I didn't know existed. From the way I stood to the correct way to drink from a wineglass while wearing lipstick had been way I stood, the way I sat. Aiola made me practice my entrance over twenty two times, until she declared adequate, with a sigh that told me she didn't even think it was that.
I snicker at Rilien when we switch places. Just before I enter the living room, I brace myself to face Johanna. Don't get mad, don't think about stabbing her, don't think about Peeta. I step inside. To my delight, Johanna isn't in the room, even though Blight is.
"Johanna won't be joining us," He explains me. I smile.
"Now about the interviews, you need to have a personality," He continues.
My smile vanishes, "A what?" I ask, feeling stupid.
"A face for the public," He clarifies, "Sexy, or cocky."
At my confused expression, he frowns, "Just do what I say alright."
The first one we try is cocky, but I'm not arrogant enough. Then it's mysterious, sexy, funny and we even try smart mouthed, before Blight shoots it down once he realizes all of my quips insult the Capitol. Now, four hours later, Blight just gives up and tells me to smile and not act like a cat getting petted the wrong way. I stare at him with a is this really the best you can do?
Blight shrugs half heartedly and pats me on the back.
I head down to the stylists room, where Aery, my tree loving stylist pulls out a dress. It's too poofy for my liking, but she informs me it's all the rage recently. She's picked a nice evergreen shade, which I was grateful for. It's not some crazy Capitol design idea with bells and whistles. She pulls my hair into a complicated braid, stating that it's my signature style. When I ask what that means, she just mutters something insulting about the districts.
I'm grateful to get out of the vanilla smelling change room, but as soon as I get out, I'm ambushed by Blight and Johanna. I can't deny that my mood goes south as soon as I notice that Johanna is back.
"So, make them like you. You have to make them laugh harder, or remind them about the family you're leaving behind," Blight explains.
Johanna cuts him off, "Make sure they miss you. Out of all the tributes, it has to be you they want to come back."
I nod, before walking to where Rilien is leaning against a wall. He watches the District One girl, Glimmer, get interviewed. She's playing sexy, wearing a super short dress and placing little innuendos in her answers. She's great with the crowd. Her little jokes make them laugh and the interviewer, Caesar Flickerman knows how to make her shine. The rest of the careers follow her lead, playing their angle with ease and triumph. My hope is close to dying. What chance do I have to win against these people? They've trained their entire lives for this moment, while I've only hunted a few time a week for squirrels.
The boy from Six isn't leaving much of an impression on the crowd. He's gone for cocky, but isn't playing it well, with his soft spoken answers and indistinct mumblings. It hasn't helped that his score was 6.
"Thank you, Welland," Caesar says, as the tribute walks off the stage. The crowd applauds politely, but it's nothing close to the noise Glimmer got.
"And now, for Katniss Everdeen!" He announces. My heart feels like it's about to leap out of of my chest, but I manage to pull off some sort of weak smile.
"Hello Ms Everdeen," Caesar greets. I shake his hand, before sitting down on the cushy chair beside him. I look out to the crowd. There must be at least a thousand of them, all staring at me like hawks. Everyone has different coloured hair, making them seem like the most disorganized rainbow. It's stunning, really.
"So, Katniss. District Seven is very different than the Capitol. What has impressed you the most since you arrived?" he asks.
My mind goes blank, "The lamb stew," I answer. I feel like banging my head on a wall. I complimented the stew. Of all the luxurious the Capitol owns, I complimented the stew.
Caesar gives a little laugh, "The one with the dried plums? I eat it by the bucketful," He then presses his hand against his stomach in mock horror, "It doesn't show does it?"
The audience laughs, reassuring him that he was thin.
"Now Katniss, I speak for all of us when we say that your training score was incredible. Mind giving us a hint?" He asks.
"It was definitely a first, I'd say," I tell him.
"Nothing else?" He asks.
"I think the sessions remain secret, correct?" I ask the row of game makers in the crowd. They all nod eagerly.
"Sorry Caesar, but my lips are sealed," I say. To my surprise, the crowd is smiling. I don't know how, but even Blight is nodding approvingly.
Caesar acts put down for a second, before asking me another question, "Can you tell us your thoughts, before you saw your scores?"
I feel myself getting nervous again, but I spout out the first answer that comes to mind, "That I was going to get a 0."
"A zero," Caesar exclaimes, incredulously, "And you are aware that the tribute that burnt down an entire floor of the training centre received a one?"
I nod.
"Well, you were slightly wrong," He informs me, sounding regretful. The audience is loving this. They're smiling and cheering.
"Now, back to the Reaping. That was your sister you volunteered for. Can you tell us anything about her?" Caesar asks.
I nod, "Her name is Prim, she's twelve and I love her more than anything."
The crowd is silent, listening to every word I say.
"And after the Reaping, did she say anything to you?" Caesar ask.
I take a deep breath, "She told me to stay alive and to win."
"And what did you say?"
"I told her I would," I respond. My heart is starting to beat a million miles per hour and I'm sweating like a pig. The audience all looks saddened.
The buzzer goes off, signifying the end of the interview went off.
"Thats all the time we have tonight Katniss. Good luck for the games," Caesar says, before he greets Rilien, who is playing the prepared angle, who has everything figured out. I return to my seat an blanked out the rest of the interviews, until it was District Twelve's turn.
First up is their girl, the willowy one. She looks like the average District Twelve tribute: weak, underfed and nervous. Cannon fodder, I think, regretfully.
"Citizens of the Capitol, say hellow to our lovely tribute from District Twelve, Jhoda!" Ceasar introduces.
Jhoda waves to the camera, smiling shyly.
"Now Jhoda, you made quite a splash at the tribute parade, mind filling us in on what you were thinking?" Caesar asks.
"Well my stylist Cinna came up to me and told me that he was going to set me on fire," She says, her tone conveying Cinna as some sort of madman. The crowd roars with laughter.
"I didn't protest too much, because you know, I'm probably going to die anyways. What's a few days, right?" She finishes. The room goes quiet. The joking mood disappears instantly, replaced by an awkward tension. No tribute says that they're going to die. It's taboo, an automatic way to garantee you won't get sponsors. And from looking at the stunned faces the the Capitol citizens, I can tell they don't like to think about it that way either. Death is messy. The Capitol prefers to see the last person alive as a Victor of the Hunger Games, not the sole survivor of twenty four kids.
Caesar attempts to break the tension, "Why the negativity, Jhoda? I say you have the making of a possible victor and as the Capitol says, aim for the best and disregard the worst."
Jhoda shrugs, "I'm not from the Capitol, Caesar. In District Twelve, we know that when a canary drops dead in the mines, it means you're going to die no matter what and my reaping was my canary dying," She replies, with the ease of a professional reporter. For a moment, I'm trying to figure out what happened to the cannon fodder girl I'd seen at the beginning of the interview. District Twelve doesn't have good speakers, so why is this girl so prepared? And either incredibly brave or incredibly reckless enough to say those types of things about the Capitol? I can already see the Gamemakers whispering among themselves.
Caesar forces a smile, "Well moving on, is there anything you'd like to mention to the whole country while you can?"
Jhoda smiles, "Yes Caesar, there is." She stands up, takes a deep breath and spins. Her dress flares out, flames spilling over the sides. Her entire dress is burning, but Jhoda doesn't seem to care. When it finishes burning, her dress is white. Ashes, I realize. Her makeup which didn't seem to quite match her dress before suddenly does. The pale face, lack of colour…then, I figure out what her stylist did. He let Jhoda die. Let the whole world see what the Hunger Games did to a spirited young girl. Let the Capitol see it in a way they can't deny. Shoved the cold truth down their throats.
I want to cheer for both of them, but the deadly stares I see the Game makers shoot Jhoda stops me. She won't last the day in the Games, I realize. THe Game makers have marked her as dangerous, so she won't be allowed to live.
Her bell goes off. It's not been three minutes yet, but no one protests. Everyone in the Capitolis still shaken from what they saw.
Caesar immediately calls Peeta on. He is given a shaky applause, then starts off comparing the districts to different breads and then made some jokes about the showers, like Jhoda was never there to begin with. The audience adores him. A distraction from what they just witnessed, they fixate on Peeta, on what a good tribute should be: an entertainer, optimistic, a touch of intimidation towards the Capitol.
"So Peeta, we're all wondering, do you have a girl back home?" Caesar asks.
Peeta makes a grin that fades, like he's playing a happy man who wishes for an unrequited love.
"No," He responds, shaking his head.
Caesar cocks an eyebrow, "You're good looking, strong. There has to be one."
Peeta sighs, "Well, there is one, I met her really recently, but I don't think it's going to work out."
"Is she seeing someone else?" Caesar asks.
Peeta shakes his head.
"Then if you win and go back to Twelve, she has to go out with you," Caesar exclaims. The audience cheers.
"That's not gong to help me, Caesar" Peeta says, sombrely.
"And why's that?" Caesar asks.
Peeta takes a huge breath, like he's readying himself for a big announcement, "She's from Seven."
Bam! Another chapter finished!
Now, Jhoda is kind of like what Katniss could of been is she hadn't played her cards right. Too outspoken, too risky. Some people thrive when given the chance to speak with a lot of people listening and Jhoda is one of them. She knows how to play her cards so that the result is what she wanted. However, this discounts the fact that the Capitol doesn't want that, in fact they want to shut her up as fast as possible.
Katniss in the book series on the other hand was first and foremost concerned with survival. So she didn't talk about the injustices of district life during her interview, when the whole world was watching, because she had people to take care of. Her rebellion was done subtly, in a way the citizens of the Capitol enjoyed, which became a problem for the people in charge because the biggest deciding factor in weather or not the games are a success is audience appreciation.
Jhoda gave the audience a bad impression of her, so they won't care if she dies, giving the Game makers what they want.
Katniss on the other hand had the audience eating out of her hand, which meant that the Game makers couldn't kill her off without facing dissatisfaction from the Capitol audience.