A/N:
Your lack of reviews are a little unnerving...hopefully you like where I'm going here :)
Chapter 22:
As Peeta and I are escorted to our seats, once again high up overlooking the stage of the Training Center, I am amazed at the sheer number of people present. I am instantly grateful that I will be a spectator rather than an active participant (even if the cameras turn on Peeta and I, smiling and waving usually suffice). Though we are relatively close by Capitol audience standards, we are not in the elevated seating unit near the front and thus are nowhere near as close as I would want to be to really watch my sister- though the giant projection TV behind the stage helps that cause, I suppose.
Caesar Flickerman is already seated on the stage. This year, his hair, eylids and lips are a creamy lavender, but otherwise he looks exactly the same, wearing his traditional midnight-blue suit. All twenty-four tributes march out to the audience's claps and screams, each taking their seats in the giant arc behind Caesar and the empty chair reserved for each interviewee. Prim looks gorgeous but shy in her canary dress; Paavo looks ominous in an understated black suit. It is nearly a minute before the audience calms down long enough for Caesar to speak. He welcomes everyone by telling a few jokes, then starts the show by calling tributes one-by-one to sit next to him, beginning with Silk.
Looking at Prim, my earlier confidence has evaporated- she looks like she is waiting to be shot. She looks paler now than after she sliced her leg open. I wish that I could run down to the stage to comfort her; being out of arm's reach of her makes me feel helpless. As if reading my mind, Peeta grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
While Caesar is interviewing the other tributes, I don't pay a lick of attention. Like the opening ceremonies, all of the other people are a huge distraction- but unlike that evening, tonight I can look at Prim the entire time. She keeps her eyes fixed downward; doesn't make eye contact with the audience, and keeps biting her nails throughout. I get more and more anxious for Prim as the interviews wear on. I see nothing but her face.
I hear Caesar's voice, his booming laughter; I hear the timer ding every three minutes. I hear voices of the tributes, though I don't register a word that they are saying. I don't comprehend any words at all until I hear Caesar exclaim, "And now from District 12, Primrose Everdeen!" It's as though I've suddenly woken up.
I watch as Prim nervously arises and slowly walks towards the chair next to Caesar's, never picking her eyes up from the ground. She sits down, face crimson, and tries to block out the audience. I empathize- waving for an audience was one thing. Answering questions where everyone in said audience is hanging on your every word was quite another. Caesar takes his hand and gently puts it underneath Prim's chin, pulling it up. "It's okay, you can look at me," he tells her gently, reassuringly.
Even though he is addressing the same person, he then raises his voice, including the audience, starting the interview. "So Primrose, let's take you back to this time last year. Your name is called at the reaping, and your sister steps in to volunteer for you. What's going through your mind?"
Prim murmurs something so quiet it's unintelligible.
Caesar smiles a little at her shyness, and quickly smoothes things over. "I'm sorry, Primrose, you're going to have to speak just a little louder. Let the audience hear that pretty voice."
Prim clears her throat. "I, um, said that at first I was shocked, and really upset, but after a while I realized I was grateful that she would do something like that for me." Her voice is still quiet but thankfully is loud enough to be picked up over the microphone. In response, the crowd falls completely silent.
Caesar nods encouragingly. "Of course, I think that we all were quite taken with your sister's actions. Now tell me Primrose, do you remember the conversation that you had with your sister prior to her leaving for the Games?"
Caesar is just playing up the story now; everyone already knows what Prim said because I spoke about it in my interview last year. But Prim repeats it anyway- and it reminds me of our conversation only a couple of nights ago.
"I asked her to try really hard to win," Prim says softly.
Caesar nods. "And win she did, Prim. Now, what has it been like with your sister being the winner of last year's Games? Has she been a good mentor to you, helped you prepare for what you are about to face in this year's Quell?"
"Yes, the best," Prim replies, her voice a little stronger now. "And I want to take this opportunity to thank her for everything that she's done- which has been more than you can imagine. And to tell her that I love her very much." Her voice cracks right at the very end, and she looks right at me, above the audience. My eyes fill with tears, and I sense that there are several cameras capturing the heartfelt moment. The audience erupts in cheers before falling silent again.
"Well said, Primrose," Caesar compliments her. "Now, I love the look from your opening ceremonies, and from this evening," he gestures to her gown. "So, it looks to me like you are a canary. Can you explain to the audience the relevance of this costume to your District?"
"Well, um, caged canaries are taken down into the coal mines with the workers," Prim explains, "because they are sensitive to a lot of the lethal gasses produced. When the canary stops singing and shows signs of distress or dies, it's an indicator that the conditions are unsafe, and the workers know to immediately get out."
"So it sounds to me like canaries are very vulnerable creatures," Caesar says. "Do you feel vulnerable compared to the other District tributes?"
Prim's voice grows quieter again. "Yes," she squeaks out. "Because I, um, don't know if I can be violent. I think violence toward others is wrong- I don't even want to hunt animals for food. I understand why people would choose to do it in the arena, if they have to, but I still hate the thought of having to hurt anybody myself. I would prefer to heal people; help them the way that the canaries do," she explains.
My heart swells with pride. My sister may be shy, but that is the single bravest thing I've heard anyone say in these interviews. Yet she manages to retain her endearing innocence.
Caesar looks a little taken aback. "Then how do you expect to win?" he blurts out reflexively, very un-Caesar-like.
"Maybe when I get in the arena my mind will change. If not, I guess I'll just have to outlast them," Prim responds. "There's less of me to feed. I can hide. I'm pretty smart. And I can heal people- myself, and others, if they're nice to me," She gives a little giggle.
"And you must do those things very well, Primrose, to have received such a high score in training." The timer dings, and Caesar looks disappointed, as he appeared to be ready to ask another question, specifically one that gets to the bottom of Prim's unusually high training score. He quickly covers for it though. He sweeps his arm out, gesturing to Prim. "Ladies and gentlemen, our time is up, but please put your hands together for Primrose Everdeen, the Canary from the Coal Mines!"
The audience bursts into almost maniacal applause, and you can see the relief visible on Prim's face; she practically runs back to her seat. In my life, I have never been more proud of my sister.
Paavo saunters to the interview chair next. Though intimidating in demeanor, he is clearly certain that his training and subsequent training score will give him an advantage in the arena; he is brimming with confidence. He sits down and crosses his legs, looking at Caesar expectantly.
Caesar inadvertently chuckles. "All right, Paavo," he begins, "So it was between you and your brother Paca in the reaping ball when your name was drawn. Are you glad you got the nod instead of him?"
"Yes," Paavo responds. "If Paca's name had been drawn I would have volunteered for him."
"Well, that's awfully nice of you," responds Caesar, though he sounds a bit skeptical. "Now, I think I speak for everyone when I say that our hearts all went out to Peeta here last year, after declaring his love for Katniss Everdeen," he says. "What is your reaction to that?"
Paavo's already dark eyes cloud over. "Peeta and I are nothing alike," he practically spits out. "He is weak, letting his silly schoolgirl crush interfere with his preparation for the arena. And he had to rely on her to carry him all the way to the end, because he couldn't even fight for himself! I guarantee you that won't happen to me. When I am the last one standing, it will be because I scratched my way there tooth and nail. I'm not a lover; I'm a fighter."
Peeta and I look at each other. Paavo's true colors are showing, and at this moment, I'm convinced that all of our efforts to reign Paavo into the alliance may have just gone by the wayside.