Title: Awake and Sing
Author: A Crazy Elephant
Summary: Or "Let the 10th Annual Hunger Games Begin!"
Category: Action/Adventure/Drama
Chapter Word Count: 3,537
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games universe and related characters do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay – exams are creeping up. I'd like to thank everyone who's read this far – you have no idea how much I love seeing the hits tick up. I'd especially like to thank those of you who've reviewed, alerted and/or favorited this piece – those lovely little notifications of your support make me deliriously happy. ^.^
Chapter Fun Facts: In Greek mythology, Phaedra is the sister of Ariadne (of the Theusus and the Minotaur myth) who ultimate marries Theusus, before falling in love with his son (who's all ready in love with a captured princess) and killing herself. Pentheus is the king of Thebes first cousin of the god Dionysus who denies the divinity of Dionysus and in punishment is brutally hacked up by his mother. Why, yes, I do read quite a lot of Greek tragedies. Boy 1's name is the corruption of 'doily', Girl 3's name is an iPhone app and Boy 3's name is a corruption of 'circui'. Julius' suit is the color of a daffodil – the traditional flower for a 10th anniversary because the traditional precious material is tin, which, let's be honest, is kind of dull.
Let me know what you think! = )
6 – Interview
By the time the final training session rolls around, I'm getting better with both arrows and knives. I'm still probably a decade or so away from actual prowess with either one, but there's comfort in knowing I can make the effort.
For the private session with the Gamemakers, I have instructions from Thom to show off the slingshot skills I've acquired. This increases the odds one will be present in the Arena.
The morning is the usual set of drills in hand-to-hand, strength, agility and endurance that we've been subjected too all week. After lunch, we are left in the cafeteria to wait. I sit with Flynn like I have all week. I haven't exactly been particularly sociable. He's the only person I even remotely know. The only one I'm comfortable enough around to not make a complete fool of myself.
Unlike me, Flynn's been making friends this week. Since it became clear Flynn is one to beat with his weapons aptitude, he's become rather sought after. Girl 1, whose name is Lace and not one but both 2s, Phaedra and Pentheus, have taken to hanging around with him at stations and at lunch.
I was horrified when he first started talking to them. Pentheus has only a hungry glare for me. Phaedra showers me with insults as often as she can. But Thom had congratulated Flynn on this achievement. Not only does it show his strength as a competitor, but there is something to be said for not having to worry about getting targeted in the initial Cornucopia bloodbath. An 'if you can't beat them, join them' sort of thing. Friends close, enemies closer and all that. They sit with us too as we wait, but not for long.
The private sessions are called by district. Boys first, then girls.
I don't have to tolerate Flynn's new allies for very long. All of them are called before us. When it's Flynn's turn, he pats my shoulder once. Gives me a small smile of encouragement. And then, after twenty minutes or so, it is my turn. I try not to shake too terribly as I am summoned back to the Training Floor.
The Training Floor is painfully quiet and empty. The instructors have gone. The stations remain fully stocked for my use. The Gamemakers sit where they have all week. They at least seem to be paying more attention than they have been this afternoon. I sigh. Focus on my target practice.
I follow Thom's orders. Start the moving targets and pick them off one by one. When I finish, a buzzer sounds. I replace the slingshot and nod to the Gamemakers as Thom instructed.
"Thank you." I say. It's quite, but my voice doesn't even shake. And just like that, training is over. I can return to our floor.
We don't learn our scores until dinner. Thom, for once, is present. Minnie and the stylists beg to hear details of our sessions. Finally, the telescreen beeps and Julius Flickerman's face appears above the fireplace. As he reads the scores, each Tribute's picture and score flash beside his shiny, bald head. Flynn gets a ten. Unsurprising, because if his report is accurate, he skewered dummy after dummy with his pike. It helps of course, that he actually looks like a competitor too.
I receive a six.
This is a reasonable score, given that I'm not exactly deadly. That doesn't mean it's encouraging. Actually, it's rather disheartening. I'm not the only low score. Girl 3 got a lower score than me. A four. Boy 3 tied me. But everyone else before me pulled at least an eight. After me, scores drift between five and eight. It still doesn't help my confidence. I must look concerned because Saoirse pats my hand reassuringly.
"Don't you worry about that number, love." She tells me. "Keepsie pulled only a two last year and she showed them all, didn't she?" I nod. Saoirse grins. She's been her cheerful, mischievous self the last few days. The small breakdown and outpouring of concern she expressed after the opening ceremonies has faded back to the smiling, impishness of our first meeting. I suspect it has to do with the impending interviews. Something back within her control. "Doesn't mean a thing."
I don't point out that Keepsie only scored a two because the Training Floor didn't have a landmine station. That Keepsie is not only smarter than me, but certainly more ferocious. Instead, I give a small smile. As though I have been appropriately reassured. Nod.
"Good love," Saoirse grins back and pats my hand. "We'll get them again tomorrow night at the interview – I've got just the thing!" She beams.
Saoirse, it turns out, has a lot of things. Most of them are silver and sparkly. The eveningwear version of the selkie costume.
The gown is a shimmering thing. Like powder and paint my skin on the night of the opening ceremonies. An asymmetrical neckline like a waterfall into a floating skirt. Jewelry made from shiny sea glass. Silver shoes with heels higher than anything I've ever worn which Minerva has me walk in for the better part of three hours the next morning. They aren't even as high as Saoirse's. I still trip over them. Minerva clucks at me.
I'm almost relieved when I can take the damnable things off for my afternoon mentoring session with Thom. I'm not entirely sure what he'll have to say to me. His angle had been and still is the bashful, polite sort for the cameras. Charming and handsome, with a disarming smile. An 'aw, shucks' sort of thing.
Bashful I can do. Polite, even. Charming and certainly handsome are out. But I can't even trust myself to speak efficiently. There's little chance I can properly put the few angles I could work into practice.
Thom, however, has a plan.
"Shy and innocent." He announces when I arrive in the main living quarters. Flynn has been whisked back to his room with Dio and Minerva for what I imagine is the same rundown of dress and presentation I was subjected to minus the high heels. "You're going as shy and innocent."
"Excuse me?" I ask. Thom is sitting in the bend of the sofa, feet propped on the low table. He's nursing a cup of coffee even though it's after lunch. Studying me.
"Sit." Thom orders. He waves to the opposite end of the sofa nearest me. I sit. "I know you well enough, Mags. You can't pull off sexy or seductive and I'm pretty sure Danny would knock out my teeth if I put you up there like that anyway." I smile at the thought. Victor or not, Danny would punch Thom for tarting me up in front of the whole country. Thom ignores me. Continues. "Cute and bubbly only works if you can get out a full sentence without choking. Tragic is good, but it's boring. Wears thin. They don't want to see it. " He says with a sip of his coffee. "Shy and innocent's the way to go. It's you anyway."
"You think so?"
"Mags, you talk to maybe six people beyond professional conversation, you have one friend and only because Fil's ballsy enough to declare it so and any time anyone not related to you looks at you for more than a nanosecond, you turn red and retreat." He observes. I can't argue. He's right. "Shy and innocent." Thom repeats. "Now listen, Flickerman's a good egg. Capitol, crazy to boot, but he tries. Plays your angle easy and doesn't let you look a fool. He'll help you out." Thom continues. Then he launches into the instructions. "Smile sheepishly. Play up the stammer – just enough to be noticed, but not so much it's painful to listen to. Cough, smile and apologize if it gets bad. Talk about how you've never seen anything more incredible than the Capitol."
"All right –"
"Flickerman usually asks about Training scores and Games strategy – brush off the score, talk about how nervous you were that day. How you could have done better." He says. "Don't say anything specific about your plans for the Arena."
"I won't." This I can be certain of. I don't have specific plans for the Arena. No concrete strategies beyond find food, boil water, and try not to die.
"Good. He asks a bit about the Districts too – friends, family and all that. Family stories are good, but don't mention dead parents." He warns. "Living relations only. And don't talk about how poor you are. The audience doesn't care that you have to take tessera or how a single meal here could feed your whole family for a day."
"There's really going to be time for all of that?" I ask. In recent years, each Tribute is only given three minutes on stage. In the first couple of years, it was longer. The interviews would go on all night. I have never been more grateful for the shortened time.
"Probably not," Thom agrees. "If we're lucky, you won't have to talk much at all."
Lucky.
Because my luck has been so excellent lately.
After Thom's lecture and a hurried early dinner, I am turned back over to Saoirse and the prep team.
Saoirse is thrilled. She is back in her element. Contributing to my success in the only way she knows how.
There isn't much make-up tonight. Only just enough so I can be seen from the stage.
"So they'll recognize you tomorrow." Saoirse explains. The preps cluck in agreement. There's still the shimmering dust over my bare shoulders. My hair is back in its expertly styled gull's nest, which the prep team has declared will be the next big thing in the Capitol. The gown fits flawlessly, even if the shoes pinch.
When they finally let me near a mirror, I begin to worry. Gram had given me one final instruction when we said our goodbyes. Don't you dare let them change you. If you let them change you, then they'll have won again.
I have let them change me. I do not look at all like myself.
I don't own anything even a quarter as lovely as this dress. I can barely begin to imagine something as lovely as this dress. My hair doesn't loop into perfectly tousled curls. My skin doesn't shine. My eyes aren't that big or that beautiful. This train of thought must show on my face because Saoirse smiles encouragingly.
"Ah, my cailín! You're beautiful, darling. We just help you show it."
"My family won't recognize me." I confess.
"Of course they will." She says. "They love you. You always look beautiful to them. Everyone else just gets to see it tonight too." Saoirse beams. The prep team titters encouragingly. Minerva arrives to hurry us all to the Studio Floor.
It's the only floor of the Training Center where the public and the cameras are allowed. It's set up like a theatre. Rows of seats stacked back into the massive space. A glittering stage with two seats and half a dozen cameras trained on it.
It's all ready filled with colorful, chattering Capitol citizen when they herd the Tributes into the front row. Our entourages, including chaperones and mentors file in behind us. We're all looking incredible. More like people than District themed mannequins we were at the opening ceremonies. But not quite as normal as we have all week in training.
In years where I have not been a Tribute, this is my least-hated part of the Games. Everyone still looks real. Alive. Like the children they are. At home, my family does not own a telescreen. We have to sit out in the square with most everyone else in town to watch the Games. For the interviews, it's always my job to tell Fillipa what everyone is wearing. She tells me which ones are terrible liars based on their voices. Danny does his Julius Flickerman impression to make us all laugh. And even though Julius is sure to be his usual cheery, supportive self with the snorting laugh that begs to be imitated this year, the interviews have quickly become my least favorite portion of the preliminary Games broadcasts.
I will have to speak in front of all these people.
Gram and Grandfather, the boys, everyone from home. The whole nation. I will have to smile. Answer questions about silly things. Like this is the most fun I've ever had. All on what is very likely the eve of my death.
It makes me dizzy. A bit nauseous. I barely notice when the noise of the crowd builds to the roar it was at the opening ceremonies.
Julius Flickerman steps onto the stage. Even Julius is looking his best. His suit is a yellow this year. Bright. Cheerful. And, as always, sparkling. Under the lights, his baldhead shines like sun on the water. He beams. Waves. Welcomes Tributes, Victors, stylists and all of Panem to the Tribute Interviews of the 10th Annual Hunger Games! Summons the first Tribute to the stage.
Lace, from District 1. She plays the cute and bubbly angle. Her District partner, a boy called Doil who leers and smirks goes with devious and plotting. Phaedra, District 2, runs with sexy and seductive. Pentheus takes a charming, bad-boy route. Girl 3, whose name is actually Siri, tries the cute thing too. Boy 3, a boy called Circ, tries clever and plotting. It doesn't quite work out for either one. They're too nervous. Again, I can't tell if it's because of the crowds or because they've spent a lot of time around Keepsie lately.
And then, it's my turn.
"Let's welcome Miss Margaret Benoit!" Julius calls. Another roar goes up from the crowd as I climb the stage to take the seat Circ has just vacated. "Margaret!" Julius flashes me smile. I'm surprised, because it's a real smile. Thom wasn't joking when he'd said Flickerman was a good sort. I smile back, carefully tucking my skirt under me as I sit. Cross my ankles, like Minerva has instructed.
Julius starts out with something fairly easy. "That was a striking entrance you made this week. Heartbreakingly lovely. Is there anything you can tell us about that?"
"I-I-I-" Or perhaps not so easy. My voice gives out immediately. I flounder for the words without even trying. There are just too many eyes on me. Julius raises an eyebrow. I cough once. Try to cover it with a smile like Thom instructed. "I-I-I'm so sorry." I say. Julius smiles reassuringly.
"Nervous, are we?" He asks. I nod. Smile sheepishly.
"T-T-There are just so many people." I admit. "It was the same at the Opening Ceremonies." I try to answer the first question. "It was lucky I didn't have to speak that night – I've never seen so many people in one place before." Shy and innocent seems to be working. At least Julius knows where I'm going. He smiles again. Like he completely understands.
"So, Margaret –" Julius continues. He seems to have given up on his original line of questioning in favor of something considerably juicier. "I'll ask what every girl in Panem wants to know – what's it like working so closely with Thom Argon?" Even over the lights, I can see Thom sitting in the crowd, looking stony. Next to him, Saoirse giggles. Punches his arm playfully.
"I-I don't know, Julius." My voice is surprisingly strong. "It's not much different than at home I suppose." It's a lie. It's not at all the same as home. It's much different. Thom is different. Fillipa will surely pick up the lie of it. But I continue anyway. "Thom's friends with my older brother Danny – they've been telling me what to do since I could walk." I explain. I smile. The crowd chuckles. There are a few 'aw's too. Like my lie is the sweetest thing they've heard all night.
"Not much different? Not even after his post-Opening Ceremonies mentor interview?" Julius asks. I'm confused. I haven't heard anything at about mentor interviews. It's either new or not required viewing for the Districts.
"His what?" I ask. Julius looks genuinely surprised.
"You haven't seen it?" I shake my head. Someone in the broadcasting booth helps Julius out. The screen above his head had until recently been flashing cuts from Julius to me and to Thom. Those shots are replaced with a fresh set of footage time stamped the day after opening ceremonies.
It's Julius and Thom, laughing about a joke that has passed. Julius is in more casual version of his yellow suit. Thom has on that handsome smile he wears for the cameras. Then the Julius on the screen asks Thom about our ceremony looks and wasn't little Margaret just stunning? Thom on the screen, chuckles nervously. Looks sheepish before admitting he always thinks I'm stunning.
After that, the lies keep coming.
That he's been stunned by me since we were children walking to school together. How his heart dropped when my name was called. How worried he's been for me. How in love with me he is. How he's never been able to say anything because I was his friend's baby sister.
"I-I-I-" I stammer helplessly as things fall into place.
This was Thom's true plan. This is what he'd meant by if we're lucky, you won't have to talk. Thom had all ready done the talking for me. He just hadn't been sure they'd play the footage.
I know it's for show, but I can still feel my face flush red. No one has ever said anything like that about me. Especially not on national television. "I-I didn't know." I finish lamely. I realize I have no idea what my face is doing. That this is probably another part of Thom's grand scheme. Catching me so completely off guard that I fall perfectly into a more natural shy and innocent look.
I glance down into audience to see if I'm right. I can't read Thom's face because the cameras are back on him. Instead of wearing the triumph he would normally, he's looking at me with a wistful, longing smile worthy of our selkie costumes. Unhelpful.
"Is there anything you'd like to say to Mr. Argon?" Julius asks me. The crowd titters. This is the kind of angle they've been waiting for. I swallow. Try to rally so the stammer isn't unbearable.
"Oh Thom, Danny's going to kill you when you get back home." It's silly. It's true. It's just about the only thing I can think of. The crowd at least, loves it. And then, there's a buzzer. I shake Julius' hand. He sends me off with a smile and a few comments to the crowd about how this year has been full of surprises for us all. The crowd is still buzzing when I return to my seat beside Flynn and Circ.
After I sit, Julius quiets the audience. Diverts their attention with the prospect of hearing from one of the highest scoring Tributes in training and one of this year's top contenders, Flynn Moses!
Flynn plays the charm angle. He excels at it. Funny and winning. Smiling, teasing Julius. They talk about his impressive training score. Make jokes about how Flynn's not offended Thom likes me better because I'm so much cuter than he is. The crowd loves him almost as much as they loved the mentor-Tribute love story Thom concocted.
I'm just relieved I don't to have to speak again. Once Flynn's time is up and he is back beside me, the rest of the interviews pass in a blur. Everyone talks about their opening ceremonies looks. Their training scores. Their Districts. Family. Friends. Lovers.
I end up tuning out to mull over what is surely happening on the square at home after this evening revelations. Surely Fil has figured out it was all for the cameras. An effort to attract sponsors. Danny might not care. He's probably steamed Thom would try something like that on national television. Jackie and Willie surely think it's the funniest thing they've ever seen. I can't even imagine what Gram and Grandfather are thinking of it all.
When it's over, when Boy 12 finishes his interview, Julius thanks us all again. Bids the audience good night. The Tributes stand to great applause and we are marched back to the elevators flanked by our entourages.
Minerva is over the moon. Saoirse and Dio are giddy. Away from the cameras, Thom looks appropriately victorious.
Thanks to him, District 4 was the standout this year. I was a standout because of him.
He doesn't mention the specifics of my interview. No one does. Only how perfect Flynn and I played things. So clever and funny and adorably shy. Even when we're back on our floor, Minerva still titters about our success until she declares it's time for bed.
Only then, when everyone else is just out of earshot, does Thom catch my arm. He's looking stony again. But it isn't nasty or mean or even the false admiration he wore in the audience, so I'm not offended.
"Don't say I didn't try, Mags." He hisses. "I tried."