A lot of the dialogue in this chapter between the tributes and Caesar is taken from the film, and the deleted scenes of the interviews.
~ Meghan
Chapter XVIII
The Interviews
- The Training Center, Floor 7 -
Breakfast starts with Ilis running through the day's schedule.
"So, we'll begin at ten o'clock with our first lessons lasting until two o'clock, when we'll break for lunch," he starts, eating a sugared strawberry. Ilis doesn't need a list in front of him. Just like every other escort, he has this down to a science after years of repeating the same thing to tributes. "At three o'clock, we'll start with the next four hours, and then finish with dinner together at seven o'clock."
"Four hours?" Lauren mutters, cocking a pale eyebrow. She pauses, almost done with her second bowl of oatmeal. "What in the world could take four hours?"
Ilis motions to me and Axel. "You'll be taking turns. Bole, you and Axel will begin first with your angle session for the interview. Lauren, you and me will be doing your etiquette lessons. We have a lot to work on."
Lauren narrows her eyes, but doesn't argue. She just exchanges a look with Bole before glancing over at me. "What is Fern going to do for first four hours?"
I twirl my fork over the pancakes on my plate that I've been cutting up and not eating. Not wanting to admit that I also have no clue, I just turn a casual glance at Ilis.
"Fern has other obligations," Ilis answer simply. He claps his gloved hands once. "Now eat up. It's a busy day!"
The rest of breakfast passes in merciful silence - except for the occasional remark from Ilis about the "dreadful" rainy weather he hopes will pass before tomorrow's interviews - and then we're splitting off. Lauren gives me a single, wistful look before following Ilis back to her room. I try to give her a reassuring smile. Johanna just wished me luck not to break an ankle before my etiquette session with Ilis. It was four hours of wobbling around in heels and smiling until my cheeks ached.
Axel doesn't bother to say anything to me as he and Bole strike up small talk on their way to the lounge.
I'm left sitting there at the table with the pancakes I haven't eaten. Quiet settles over the room, gentle rain pattering against the large windows. I nearly jump out of my skin when the phone rings. I press a hand against my racing heart, standing up and heading to the phone. My mind immediately flies to Carus Cardew. Just the thought of hearing his voice on the other side of the line makes me grimace. Is he going to ask me to go with him again? Is he going to tell me about wanting to see me tonight?
My mouth is paper dry as I pick up the phone, and then my stomach turns to ice when I hear the voice.
"Good morning, Miss Redwood."
Not Carus Cardew.
I force my voice to work, fighting - and not quite winning - to keep out the anger. "Good morning, President Snow."
"I hope you're enjoying your morning with your tribute," President Snow says, "it's such an important day. We all have our part to play, and I hope they learn theirs before tomorrow night."
I bite back the urge to ask him what he really wants. We both know he hasn't called to make small talk. Ilis knew he would call too, that's what our escort meant by my "obligations." Suddenly I want to punch Ilis hard enough to break his perfect nose.
"Carus Cardew contacted me," President Snow goes on. "You've done well. I'm so very glad that you're making friends with the Capitol gentry. They do admire you, Miss Redwood. In fact, they admire you so much that I would like to invite you to stay beyond this year's Games."
I stand there, frozen, holding the phone so hard my knuckles turn white. My head spins with confusion. "Stay?" I repeat dumbly.
"Yes, to live here in the Capitol for the summer."
"I don't have a house here," I argue. My heart starts to pick up the pace. I'm supposed to go home to Mama and Pine, I'm supposed to stay for the Games and then go home if Lauren wins with her on the train. I'm not supposed to stay here. I'm supposed to go home.
President Snow sighs, as if he finds my confusion endearing. "You're a victor, Miss Redwood. You have enough to fund yourself an apartment. There's a lovely one with a view on Pantheon Avenue. You'll find that you're familiar with some of your neighbors."
I try to swallow, but there's a lump in my throat. Suddenly I feel stupid. Of course he won't let me go home soon. It would be too easy. The meeting with Carus wasn't the end, it was just the start of my new life here in the Capitol. And it's not nearly a choice, no matter how much Snow calls it an "invitation." To refuse would be asking him to rig the reaping next year and let Pine's name be the one pulled out.
"I'll send over the details soon," President Snow says. "Oh, and by the way, I must ask that you keep your company limited to the tributes from your own district. It wouldn't reflect well on you for any information about a certain elevator dalliance to get out, would it?"
My stomach drops. I can't even respond for a moment.
"Would it?" President Snow presses.
"No," I manage through my clenched teeth.
"I thought so," he answers. "Enjoy your day, Miss Redwood. It'll be an exciting night tomorrow. Make sure to smile."
With that, the line disconnects. It takes every ounce of discipline in my body to not smash the phone against the wall. Instead, I place it back on the counter and swallow a furious scream building up in my chest.
The memory of Vis kissing me in the elevator flies back into my mind. But now when I think about his warm lips, his hand in my hair, the sad smile on his face, I can only think of President Snow watching from some secret camera. How could I not have realized that there would be cameras? There isn't any part of my life that can be private now, nothing that can be out of Snow's hands.
"Stupid," I spit, and kick the wall hard enough to make my leg ache.
- Floor 7 Lounge -
"So, what about a funny angle?"
Lauren looks unconvinced. "Uh... yeah, I don't think that's happening."
I screw up my lips to the side, thinking. Lauren sits across from me in the lounge, her back to the windows letting in streams of afternoon sunlight. She almost fell asleep earlier after lunch, so I know without asking that her session on etiquette with Ilis must've been exhausting. When I came in this same room a year ago, Johanna struggled to think up a strategy for me.
"Too bad I'm not like Johanna Mason," Lauren says, as if reading my mind. "I could just act weak and then surprise everybody later."
"Johanna's... Johanna," I say.
We all knew how she acted so weak and scared during her interviews for the 71st Games. I can still remember watching her interviews with Vidar and Joan that night, back when we were sixteen and District 7 hadn't had a female victor since Balsam won before we were born. None of us expected her to win. We all thought she was just another girl from our district sent to her death, one of the weaker tributes who cried during the parade. Nobody had expected her to outlast the first day in the snowy arena. But then, a week in, she was still managing to stay alive. Things changed when the the Career Pack killed the boy from 3 nearby her hiding place, and Johanna managed to get his supplies before the hovercraft took his body.
I can still her face as she looked at the ax in her frozen hands.
She waited another week until the number of tributes dropped down to the final 8. And then Johanna showed her true colors. It took three days for her to hunt down the rest of the tributes, slaughtering them all without hesitation.
But Lauren is nothing like that. So far we've been through a few angles, but mysterious, bubbly, and eccentric haven't really fit.
"We can try sweet," I finally pipe up. "You're resourceful too, you're strong, you're smart. Nobody else has to know that until the arena."
Lauren considers it before she finally nods. "How can that interest sponsors? That's what I'm supposed to do, right?"
I nod. "You can be charming. You only have three minutes to win them over, they have a short attention span. They love tributes who stand out, ones who have something to make them remember. You can be shy and sweet, it gets them every time, but share something that makes them want you to win."
"I don't think they want any of us to win," Lauren scoffs.
"They want their favorite to win," I reply. "I definitely wasn't the favorite when I did my interviews. But it would have made things easier as far as sponsor gifts in the arena. I could've done with some supporters who wanted to see me win, and put their money towards some water or medicine."
Lauren works her jaw for a moment. Finally, she sighs. "How do I make them want me to win?"
"Make it seem like you care," I say. I jog my brain, trying to think up ways to do that. Usually the Capitol obsesses over the vicious tributes who talk about how they can't wait to get into the arena, and how they know how to kill people with this or that weapon. That doesn't really work in Lauren's favor.
"I could talk about home," Lauren finally says. She shrugs. "Make them sympathetic. They're pretty gullible, anyway."
I consider it before finally nodding once. "Alright. Home. What do you want to say about District Seven?"
She shakes her head, and her blonde ponytail falls over her shoulder. "Not District Seven. I mean, talk about my family."
"Let's try it," I agree. I sit up, holding an invisible microphone to my mouth like Caesar Flickerman. "So, Miss Cambium, what would you like to tell the Capitol citizens here tonight?"
Lauren's lips twitch, but she fights off the laugh. "Well, Caesar, I would like to say that I'm so very, very happy to be able to talk to you all tonight," she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm, but she smiles just like I know Ilis told her to. "I can't let myself go into the arena without telling you all about my favorite thing: pancakes."
I falter, caught off guard. Then I straighten up again. "Pancakes, you say? Please, do tell."
"Every year, on our birthdays, my family make pancakes," Lauren tells me. "Everyone else goes out at dawn, when everything is all gray, and we pick these orange mushrooms called chanterelle. We put them in a basket and take them home, and we make pancake batter. We chop up all the mushrooms and add them to the pancakes. It might sound weird, but they give it this peppery taste." Lauren's eyes crinkle in happiness. "Actually, one time, my older sister-"
I wait, and Lauren opens her mouth to speak but then closes it. For just a moment, she blinks her eyes, clearing away tears that I just barely saw. She gulps once and then smiles again. "My older sister, Eila, burnt them for our grandpa's birthday and we all laughed over these black pancakes that were as hard as rocks. So we all went out and picked more." She looks past me sadly. "I really want to make them again for another birthday."
"You will," I say. I drop my hand and the fake microphone. "You think you can say that in front of everyone?"
Lauren thinks about it for a moment. Then she shakes her head. "No. But I guess I could say it to Bole. He'll be by the stage, right? With the others? I can tell him."
I bite my lip, hesitating. "Lauren, if you don't mind me asking, are you and Bole...?"
She knits her brows. "Are we what?"
"A couple," I say, feeling slightly embarrassed, as if she was asking me instead.
Her eyes widen for a moment, and then she bursts into laughter. It isn't just giggles, but instead it's a loud belly laugh that echoes around the lounge. When she finally stops laughing, Lauren presses her hands against her red cheeks, grinning. "Absolutely not." Lauren laughs again. "We're just classmates. We're friends, we've known each other since we were five years old." She quiets and her face grows serious. "I guess we're just unlucky to get picked together."
Lauren is quiet for a moment, one hand still fidgeting with her shirt hem.
"Are you going to be allies?" I ask.
She breathes out slowly, staring at the carpet beneath our feet. "I don't know. I don't like the idea of it coming down to us... I don't think I could do it. I don't think I could hurt him." Finally, she looks back at me. "How afraid were you?"
"Oh, I was pretty terrified," I say, laughing once. "But Caesar always tries to help everyone out. You've seen how he is. If you get nervous, you can just let Caesar take over. He's been doing this for years."
Lauren watches me for a moment, blinking her bark-brown eyes. "I meant the Games."
Any semblance of humor leaves me. For a moment, all I can do is just stare at girl in front of me.
"I'm not trying to be rude," Lauren says quickly. "I just... I just want to know." She smiles ruefully. "I'm going to be in the arena in less than two days... It doesn't even sound real to say."
We're both quiet for a moment again. Somewhere on the District 8 floor above us, something thumps on the ceiling, but neither of us flinch. For the first moment, I'm not looking at Lauren like my tribute who I'm supposed to mentor. Instead, all I can see is a girl I must have walked past in school before or seen in the markets. She would've been in the reaping pool last year, breathing a sigh of relief when my name was called instead of hers. This whole time, I've been trying to comfort her and remind her to be strong when, all along, Lauren has been much more composed than I was before my Games.
Now I just see another girl from District 7. She's just another kid being faced with death, just like I was. Like I still am. We're equals.
"I thought I was going to die," I finally say, not even trying to soften my words. She wants to know. She deserves to know. "I cried the night before the Games began, and right before I got on the hovercraft, I whispered to my mother and brother that I loved them. I didn't think I would ever see the sky again." I expect my throat to constrict, but it doesn't. "I thought I wasn't going to ever come out of the arena. But I survived."
Lauren's quiet before she echoes, "you survived."
"And so can you," I finally say.
Lauren almost smiles.
- Training Center, Floor 7 -
I chew on my nail that's been freshly painted silver. Gallus would have a fit, but he won't see me until after the interviews. Right now he's still with Lauren, making sure her outfit is perfect enough to walk on stage in. What is Lauren thinking right now?
"You're making me nervous," Ilis sighs, eyeing me disapprovingly.
"I just want to get this over with," I murmur. I force myself to clasp my hands in front of my dress. Gallus has put me in a dark green gown, a simple, silky slip one with shimmer covering it. My shoes are mercifully not heels tonight, just strappy sandals reaching my knees, and no jewelry either save for a silver choker. I barely have any makeup either, and my hair had been straightened. Gallus and I both know that the focus tonight is on Lauren, not me.
Ilis pulls out a compact, eyeing himself in the mirror. "This is the most festive night of the Games, Fern, you might as well try to enjoy it."
I clench my jaw and turn away from the man.
I still haven't forgotten about this morning, and the fact that he knew Snow was going to be calling and said nothing. It's just another reminder that no matter how familiar he might seem after a year, Ilis is still Capitol.
The elevators doors chime, opening to reveal Axel in a scarlet suit. He takes a single look at my dress and peers down to straighten his already-perfect cuff. "You look great, Fern." He sweeps past me without a spare glance, stopping in front of Ilis. "We'll need a full list tonight of the potential interest. I don't want to let a second of the Games go by without it."
Ilis nods. He tucks away his compact. "I've already been running up the reports. There's slightly less interest than last year. I'd say much more of the attention is on District Twelve than is good for us."
I fold my arms. It's the girl from the district, the volunteer who had the flaming chariot outfit and the eleven in training. For the life of me, I can't remember her name today. Instead, the only thing that keeps running through my head is Caesar's voice crowing "the Girl on Fire!" Now she's taking away attention that could have been Lauren's.
"We can look at the sponsors tonight in the Headquarters," Axel says. His voice gets a tad darker. "Fern and I won't be getting much sleep."
I dig my nails into my arm, deep enough to leave crescent marks and flecks of silver polish. "I don't see why, since you haven't told me anything about the sponsors."
Axel finally turns to look at me, and so does Ilis. I can see the surprise in their eyes at my bitter tone, but I don't care. It's almost been days since Axel said a sentence to me, much less about the sponsor process. I might as well just not even be a mentor at this point.
Ilis gives him a curious look.
Before Axel can respond, the elevator opens and Bole walks out, looking uncomfortable and picking at his collar. Decima has put him in top as black as his hair, the strands of which have been meticulously combed to the side. The finishing pop of color is his blue suit jacket, covered in cyan and navy accents. As far as Decima's interview designs go, it's not bad.
Bole looks about as happy as a hornet getting its tree sawed down. "I look ridiculous," he mutters darkly to us.
"I think it's dashing!" Ilis crows, clapping his hands once, jeweled rings clinking together.
Bole just glances at him as if it confirms his thinking.
Axel gives him a sympathetic smile. "You can change after the interviews for dinner."
"I want this to be over as soon as possible," Bole mutters. "Where's Lauren?"
As if on cue, the elevator gives a ding as the doors glide open. Lauren glances up shyly from inside.
Gallus has done well, as usual, and put her in a sleeveless dress made up of large-yet-tasteful yellow and blue flowers. He's made her wear three-inch heels that make her taller, but she must've been a fast learner with Ilis, because she steps confidently out of the elevator. The whole thing has a very delicate, feminine look to it, but the lack of sleeves show off Lauren's muscle from the lumber yard. It's a winning combination.
"You look like one of the Capitol ladies," Bole tells her with a grin.
Lauren punches his arm playfully. "Shut up, you're one to talk."
Bole laughs. "I'm just kidding. You look really nice, Lulu."
She blinks, fidgeting with her sparkly bracelets. "I haven't heard that name since we were ten." She fidgets again as if noticing the rest of us are here, and then motions quickly to her eyes, looking at each of us. "I've never worn makeup before."
"You look pretty," I say with a smile.
Lauren blushes. She tilts her head down with a pleased smile, and a lock of blonde hair falls from the clips sweeping it to the side.
I step towards her, reaching for the piece of hair. Lauren looks up, surprised as I gently take the pins from her hair, tucking them back in. It's something my mother has done with my hair a million times, keeping it out of my eyes. "You need to let people see your face," she told me on the first day of school, when I was too nervous to go inside the classroom. Mama had crouched down to be eye-level with me, smiling and placing a warm hand on my cheek. "Show them who you are."
Without thinking, I lay my hand on Lauren's shoulder and look at her bark-brown eyes. "Show them who you are."
She finally nods. "I will."
- The Interview Stage -
"Are you ready to meet the tributes of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games?"
The crowd's road is deafening.
Caesar Flickerman laughs as the music swells.
I scrunch my dress in my hands, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. All the victors have been lined up in the third row, behind the stylists in the first, ordered by district just like our tributes. The man from District 6 to my left looks like he barely knows what's going on. His sunken eyes flit around the stage, gazing at all the colorful lights, and then down at his shiny silver sleeve reflecting all the shimmer.
How he's so distracted, I have no idea. My body is tense, as if I'm about to run a race.
The music quiets down, silencing as Caesar takes a bow in his twinkling lightbulb suit. "Thank you!" he calls to the applauding Capitol. "Thank you for being here tonight on the eve of the annual Seventy-fourth Hunger Games! Are you excited?"
The crowd erupts into applause and whistling all over again. Was it this loud when I had my own interviews a year ago?
"So, our first tribute is from District One. Let's see if she does indeed shine," Caesar says once the crowd has quieted. "Let's have a warm round of applause for Glimmer!"
The girl from District 1 stands up, sashaying to center stage in a see-through gold dress, flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder. She takes Caesar's hand, sitting down primly and giving the Capitol a coy smile. There aren't any guesses to her angle: sexy. It reminds me of Luster, sitting down the row, in a similarly slinky red dress.
"So, Glimmer, are you prepared?" Caesar begins.
"Yes, Caesar," Glimmer says, gazing at the crowd through half-lidded, green eyes in what must be a very practiced look. "I'm very prepared."
"I like it, that's self-assurance." Caesar nods. "So, so sure. That's what it takes to win, folks, doesn't it?"
The crowd cheers.
I take a deep breath and try to keep my stomach from getting even more knotted than it already feels. Once the girl from 1 leaves with a flirtatious wave to the crowd, her district partner - Marvel, as Caesar announces - steps up in a blue suit. It's fairly obvious that he isn't exactly a volunteer due to his intelligence but he manages to make the crowd laugh.
"Let's hear it for Marvel!" Caesar says, standing at the end.
Marvel whoops, throwing his long arms open. The crowd chuckles as he makes his way to his seat, almost tripping along the way.
"And now, from District Two, another volunteer. Please welcome, Clove!"
The girl stands up, gathering froths of orange cloth in her arms as she walks to Caesar, smiling at the crowd as she takes her seat. Just like at the reaping, the glint in her eyes is unmistakable. She's exactly the kind of tribute that the Careers are expected to have. Lauren needs to keep her distance from that girl especially.
"Clove, you look lovely!" Caesar says, motioning to her frilly gown. The audience applauds its approval.
The girl from 2 smirks. "Thank you, Caesar. You don't look half bad yourself. Blue is your color."
The crowd laughs along with him and they both sit down, chattering about this and that. The answers all come from her mouth with confidence and a sweet smile, but no one in the districts is going to be fooled. She's rehearsed this, just like every other volunteer from the Career districts.
"I have heard that you're quite facile with the knife," Caesar eventually says.
"I'm the best," Clove answers coolly.
"Really?"
Clove leans back in her seat, tilting her head with another smirk. "I could kill you from clear across this stage."
Caesar glances to the other end of the stage, miming horror, and the audience ripples with laughter.
I sit back in my chair, forcing my shoulders to relax. It's going to be a long night. And each of the tributes' three minutes pass slowly, dotted with the occasional remark that keeps my attention. The boy from 2 - Cato - is your typical ruthless, blood-lusting Career who's chomping at the bit to get into the arena. He just sits back easily, one leg cross over the other knee, as if he was born to be on the stage.
"I think these are the greatest games ever invented and I just want to be here to win it," Cato says.
Both 3 and 4 are fairly typical as well, with both from 3 fidgeting. The boy - Gismo - tosses nervous glances at the crowd here and there. The pair from 4 are both Careers again, as usual, boasting about their skills with tridents and spears. Once 5 is announced after, I find myself leaning forward.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, let's hear from Finch!"
Caesar extends his hand to the redheaded girl walking forward in a sea-foam dress. She brushes her hand on his palm for just a moment, and then sits down without a smile, blinking into the lights. Her face is unmistakable from the reapings. It's her eyes that really stand out - tawny-colored, just like a fox. Caesar introduces her again, and she glances between him and the audience unsmilingly.
"Do you have any special skills you can tell us about?" Caesar eventually asks.
Finch pauses. "I'm very smart. I believe that no weapons can match a brain."
"I like that," Caesar murmurs. "I like that a lot. I think that deserves a round of applause."
The crowd obliges, tossing in a few whistles too. Finch's three minutes pass by, and at the end I know I would never want this girl for an ally in the arena. She isn't' anything like Hendrix or Lexi. Something about her I can't put my finger on is just unsettling. Completely the opposite of Vis too, who doesn't look at Finch as she heads back to the semi-circle of tributes.
My heart twists as Vis stands up and nervously smooths the lapels of his lilac blazer.
"Welcome, Vis, how are you?" Caesar asks as the applause for the boy dies down.
Vis gives a good-natured smile. "A little overdressed, I think, but I'm alright." His voices wavers just the slightest bit, but the Capitol doesn't seem to notice as they dissolve into laughter. A funny angle. It suits him.
But as he sits down with the Master of Ceremonies and they talk about his life back in 5 as the son of the mayor, it doesn't seem like the same Vis who showed me around the Justice Building. He doesn't have the same shimmer to his eyes or the quick smiles. Instead, they're devoid of warmth, put on for an audience who can't tell the difference.
For a moment, I can feel the breeze on the balcony back in District 5. I can see Vis pointing to the metal windmills in the distance. His little brother is pulling gum from his pocket and offering it to me. Vis looking uncomfortable in his suit when he first met me, like he'd rather be outside or tinkering with one of their funny gadgets.
Instead I watch him force another smile on the stage as Caesar finishes asking him about Manus, and the buzzer goes off. Vis stands. For a moment, his dark eyes sweep across the audience, and I think he's looking for me. But then Caesar is shaking his head and his turn is over.
I sit in my chair as District 6 passes and pretend I'm back in District 5.
And then, "please welcome Lauren to the stage!"
Lauren gets up and plasters on a shaky grin. She waves to the cheering audience and gracefully takes a seat, crossing her ankles like Ilis taught her. Caesar compliments her outfit first, naturally, and then starts in on the real questions.
"So, do you have skills from home in District Seven?" he asks.
"I work for the mill," Lauren answers softly. She straightens up a bit, casting a hesitant look at the crowd. "I, um, I pull lumber."
Caesar nods. "And is that difficult work? Do you have to use blades at all?"
Lauren thinks for a moment. She scrunches the fabric of her dress before forcing her hands to her sides. "Well, a bit. Yes. We have to use hooks sometimes, called cant hooks." She catches on to what the audience wants to hear, and gives them a confident look. "So I do have some experience with deadly things."
The crowd murmurs its approval.
I take a deep breath in relief. It's a bit of a stretch, but it's not likely they'd know what hooks the mill uses. The Capitol audience believes anything, just like she said.
It isn't long before Lauren is telling the pancake story. She finds my eyes in the audience, and then she's telling me about it again, like we're back home and it's just us. There isn't any Capitol here in this imaginary world.
"Eila said that I have to come home," Lauren finally says as her time winds down. Her lip wobbles for a moment, but she swallows and sits up straighter. "She said that I need to come back home to her."
"And you will certainly try," Caesar manages to say just before the buzzer sounds.
I slump back in my seat. Who cares if the cameras can see me. She did amazing.
Bole comes up for his interview, and I can hardly listen, my ears are ringing. It's like my whole body had been taut until Lauren finally got back to her seat and then I could relax. But I watch him as he responds charmingly, playing up the down-on-his-luck boy who has a good head on his shoulders. One who intends on fighting to get back to his family and his friends.
And then 8 is moving by, then 9 with a girl who almost gets sick, 10 with a boy with an injured leg, 11 with a massive boy and tiny, quiet girl, and then it's just 12. The dark-haired girl stands up as the brooding boy from 11 sits down next to her.
The energy seems to shift in the audience, quieting a bit, tensing. Everyone wants to hear the words of this girl who volunteered, arrived at the Capitol in flames, and then got an eleven in her training. She's dressed tonight in a gown of gemstones that make her look enveloped in even more fire, mesmerizing - and dangerous. Already I can see Lauren's interview slipping out of the Capitol's minds as they hush each other for the Girl on Fire.
"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite the change from District Twelve. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" Caesar begins.
Katniss pauses, blinking out at the audience, and finally blurting, "the lamb stew."
"Fair enough," Axel sighs beside me under his breath.
Caesar and the audience laugh along. Katniss just stares confusedly. But then Caesar does a bit, turning and patting his stomach and asking the audience if they can tell he eats too much of it. They play along, and then Katniss and Caesar start an easy conversation. It changes when she ends up twirling in her gown. Just like the opening ceremonies, she looks as if she's turned into a flame, the light catching all the rubies and topaz and sapphires on the gown.
In the tribute row, the pairs from 1 and 2 shoot daggers.
They're going to go for her first, I think grimly. The Careers already have a giant target on her back.
Caesar finally gets Katniss to stop spinning, and then asks her about her training score, which she - of course - won't talk about. Whatever skill she has, even I'm curious to find out. But then Caesar is winding things down and he turns to Katniss, his face solemn.
"Let's go back then," he says, "to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping. And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"
Katniss looks out at the audience. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."
City Circle is silent now. All I can think of is Pine, and how just a few days ago I was dreading hearing his name called. My worst nightmare came true for Katniss. Suddenly, I feel pity for the Girl on Fire. She isn't Lauren's competitor for a moment. She's just another kid.
"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asks.
Katniss swallows. "She asked me to try really hard to win."
"And what did you say?"
"I swore I would."
A shiver runs down my spine. Maybe it's the way Katniss dropped her tone, maybe it's the way her eyes scan the audience before turning back to Caesar. But for just a second, I know she deserved that eleven from training.
Axel notices it too, knitting his brows.
"I bet you did," Caesar says obliviously. He squeezes her hand and the buzzer sounds. "Sorry we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve."
She takes her seat, and the audience keeps cheering until he calls up the boy from 12, who he calls Peeta.
"Hate to follow that act," the female tribute from 6 mutters to her district partner.
Peeta manages to hold his own though, in a flame-accented suit. He has the audience laughing and playing along with little anecdotes. They're practically putty in his hands as Caesar starts asking him if he has a girlfriend. Peeta blushes a bit at Caesar's teasing. Caesar does this every year to at least one tribute because, according to Ilis, everyone loves romance. Even in a television show about killing each other.
"Winning... won't help in my case," Peeta gets out.
"Why ever not?" Caesar asks, confusion painted on his blue-accented face.
Peeta's face goes as red as the flames on his suit. "Because... because... she came here with me."
And just like that, District 12 explodes everyone else off the map.
- Training Center, Floor 7 -
For dinner, we let Lauren and Bole order anything and everything they want.
The table is piled with a feast: orange soup with sparkling raspberries floating in it, tarts with blueberry glaze, roast duck stuffed full, a broth that tastes like pumpkin, cake covered in fluffy white icing, a mountain of buttery potatoes, and other dishes I don't even know the names of. That, and even some posca, which Ilis and Gallus disapproved of, but Decima insisted on.
"This is their last feast," Decima says. "Let them enjoy it."
Ilis shoots her a look, and Decima recovers her words.
"Last feast for a few weeks," she amends. And then she pours herself some posca.
I avoid the drink like the plague. It just reminds me too much of Carus. Instead, I take some potatoes and pretend to eat the rest. My nerves feel like they did the night before my own Games. Instead, this time, I'll be watching Lauren go into the arena, and I'll have to trust that she can take care of herself in the meantime. But not only that, Bole and Vis will be there as well.
My eyes drift to Bole as he forces himself to eat, even taking a generous piece of cake. Despite knowing he isn't even my own tribute, I don't want to see him die. I don't want to see Vis die either. But for Lauren to win, they both need end in cannons.
My stomach roils.
I take a deep drink of ice water before anything can come up, breathing in deeply.
"Why don't we watch the replay?" Ilis asks, checking his watch. "They should be airing it in a few minutes."
I watch as Lauren struggles to finish her half-full plate. Days ago she was eating full meals, but tonight she's been having a difficult time eating. Now, changed out of her interview dress, and into soft pink pajamas, she looks so much younger than sixteen. The only thing remaining from the interview is the polish on her nails.
As the others stand up and make their way towards the lounge, I grab the plate of tarts and hold it out to Lauren. "Take one. Or two. Even three. They're too good to go to waste."
She looks at the plate for a moment, and then up at me. Finally, she smiles. "Thank you." She takes all four tarts and follows me into the lounge where we all settle into the plush couches. Decima and Bole are both sipping posca, but Lauren munches on the tarts, snuggled beneath a blanket beside me.
The interview replay goes quickly. I analyze each of the tributes as they pass in ways I didn't have time to in person, and I can tell that Bole and Ilis are as well. The girl from 1, Glimmer, doesn't seem quite so airheaded this time. Instead, something sly glints behind her eyes, just like Clove from 2 and, of course, Finch from 5. It hurts to watch Vis again, right after the Finch girl. I'm relieved when the screen changes and the tributes from 6 pass by easily.
Lauren is darling in her interview, all sweetness and emotion. Gallus gives her an approving smile, and Decima even raises her posca in her direction. Bole doesn't stand out quite as much to me, but maybe that's just my bias. He still comes across as confident and capable, the best that District 7 can make.
I barely listen as 8, 9, 10, and 11 pass. Before Katniss starts spinning around in her dress again, Axel turns off the television.
"It's getting late," he says. He turns to look soberly at our tributes. "We have to say our goodbyes here. Decima and Gallus will be with you both in the Launch Rooms before the arena tomorrow. But Fern, Ilis and I need to leave here."
My throat constricts as everyone starts to stand up. Gallus and Decima linger back, letting Ilis say goodbye first.
"I expect you both to make me proud tomorrow," Ilis says. He gives them both a tight hug. "I hope to see one of you soon." With that, Ilis steps back, smiling as if he gave the most heartfelt speech that Panem has ever seen.
Lauren turns to me, her fingers still sticky with tart glaze. "So. This is it, then."
I watch in my peripheral vision as Axel talks quietly to Bole. I swallow down the lump in my throat. "This is just temporary. I'll see you after, when you come out and go home to make pancakes with your family."
For the first time, Lauren lets tears well up in her eyes. She sways for a moment, seeming to consider moving closer before I finally step forward and hug her. She wraps her arms around my back, probably getting glaze on my sweater, but I don't care. I wish someone had been there to hold me the night before the arena. Johanna has never been good with this sort of thing. I hope I'm doing a bit better.
"I don't want to die," Lauren whispers into my shoulder.
I hug her tighter.
I can smell the Capitol shampoo in her hair, the one that smells like pine. Like home. And then I'm letting go.
It seems like a blur as Ilis directs me and Axel away, and we leave Lauren and Bole standing there in the main area of the floor. I make my feet move, walking into the elevator, and turning around to give Lauren a wave.
She just raises her hand when the doors of the elevator shut. I slump back against the wall. The movement of the elevator rising makes me feel sick, and thinking of Lauren's voice just makes it worse. By tomorrow, she'll be in the arena, surrounded by the tributes who were just lusting over blood on the stage.
Ilis leads us out of the elevator and onto the rooftop, surrounded by fragrant flowers and windchimes tinkling the night air. It's the same place that I had to come to on the morning of my Games, when they led me to the hovercraft in my white slip with Gallus following. Now another hovercraft waits, the ladder hanging down and ready for us to grab hold of.
As I step closer to the hovercraft, cheers and whistles become audible from over the balcony. Without even thinking, I walk to the railing and peer down the Training Center, at the streets far below. A crowd of color seethes below. People dance and cheer in the streets, throwing streamers and confetti underneath screens showing clips of the interviews.
"They're celebrating," I mutter to no one in particular.
"Of course," Ilis laughs, "this is the beginning of the fun part."
He doesn't bother to look at my face as he turns, grabbing onto the ladder and vanishing into the hovercraft high above in the dark night.
Axel motions to the ladder next. "Go ahead."
I don't point out that he still isn't looking at me, or that it stings more than I want to admit. I just take a final look at the Capitol celebrating the coming deaths of twenty-three tributes, and I turn away.