President Snow is on the wall in our living room. His beady eyes and rodent-like teeth demand the attention of every Panem citizen, as the Reading is mandatory viewing. The adults who have seen other Quarter Quells mutter about how the Reading of the Card should have happened months before the Games, but their complaints are half-hearted at best. The room reeks of suppressed tears and desperate hope. Our worst fears are about to be confirmed, and even though the president's message is already common knowledge we can't help but hope. We can't help but plead and bargain with the universe. Let the card say that the Games are cancelled. Or that the tributes will not be given weapons. That the parents will live the rest of their lives in safety and comfort in the Capitol. Anything but that we will be forced to watch our families die.
"Citizens of Panem," the dry voice of the President intones. "With the third Quarter Quell and 75th Annual Hunger Games only a day away, I believe it is high time that we reveal the twist for this year's Games." He motions with a white-gloved hand, and a small boy dressed in a green suit steps forward with an envelope. President Snow's hand gracefully flutters down to pluck the unread card. He nods at the boy who retreats out of the camera range, and tears the top from the envelope. "In the third Quarter Quell, to remind the Districts that entire families were slaughtered in the rebellion, one parent for each tribute will be competing in the Games along with their children for the single victor's crown."
There it is. No going back now. The President closes with a few meaningless remarks, and the wall projection goes blank. There are no doubts now, the rumors were true. Our entire District 12 team sits there in silence for what feels like forever. No one wants to acknowledge the fact that our worries were not baseless. The atmosphere in the room is dead, but there is a strong undercurrent of fear running between tributes, parents, and mentor alike. This is bad.
"Well!" says Effie, finally. "Isn't that…" she trails off. Not even Effie with her endless enthusiasm façade can make this sound decent.
"A nightmare that goes on and on." We all look around. Who has spoken? Finally I realize: my mother has chimed in.
"At least we can work together…" Awren looks at his dad with uncertainty. "Right?"
"Of course, son. We're a team for always." Awren's father says. "All of us are a team, and we'll all stick together in the Games."
I am so grateful to this man whose first name I don't even know. We've only known each other for a few days, and under unimaginably terrible circumstances, and yet he is offering me an alliance. It has been a while since I had an adult looking out for me.
"We have other allies too!" Awren is looking hopeful, which breaks my heart. "Daz and Cynth will fight with us… and Jace, right Prim?"
"Right." I say. I plaster on a smile so we can be a team. I fake it so it looks like I share Awren's childish hopefulness. I've watched enough games to know that the nice tributes never win. The sweet 12-year-olds from outlying districts get picked off almost instantly, and months later we have to applaud the gorgeous 17-year-old career tribute who killed them, during the victory tour. I think about Brooke's wavy chestnut hair, and know that she has a good chance of soon topping it with the sparkling victor's crown. Or the girl from 1 with the venomous smile who no doubt has trained her entire life for these Games. And there's also Will to consider… his muscular arms could easily smash their way to victory. Who else? I know there are more tributes that haunt my nightmares, but I can't summon their faces to my mind in the daylight.
"Don't worry, Prim." Awren takes my hand and squeezes it between his delicate child's palms. "We won't go down without a fight."
Oh Awren. My eyes fill with tears as I look into his innocent face. There's no way he'll be able to defend himself in the Games. I have to protect him. Between me and his father, maybe we can keep him alive a little longer, or at least defend him from a prolonged death at the hands of a Career. But then, I can't even protect myself. I'm from District 12. If I make it more than the first night it will be a miracle.
No. That's not true. I got a 9, and I'm a good shot. I have allies. But I also need to protect Jace. And Awren will be protecting Cynth. Only one of us can come out alive. The odds are in none of our favor, but if we were to make it to a point where we had to choose…
Daz will give his life to protect Cynth, so I don't have to worry about saving him. I know Awren will try to do the same, but there's no way his father will give him up. Jace is a competitor in the Games, but even after only a few days I know that she will not be a killer. She is a healer like me.
What about me?
I couldn't kill anyone… In 12 I couldn't even shoot animals for food in the woods. I can heal my friends, but that can only go so far. Protecting my mother will be a moral obligation, but I just hope she can go peacefully. I get frustrated with her for leaving me alone when she retracts into her mind, but it's not her fault. She hasn't been right in her head since the accident. Without her, I will have no one to keep alive at home. I will have no one to protect, and nothing to live for. It will be best if I can go down saving my friends.
I feel strangely at peace as Cinna tells me it is time to leave to prepare for my interview.
For my interview, Cinna dresses me in gray once more. This dress has a different feel from the parade dress though. It is a lighter, ashy color, and where the last dress made me look sophisticated and strong, this is more elegant. It is strapless, and my curled hair is allowed to drape over my uncovered shoulders. The skirt falls to the floor in ruffled layers, and the neck of the dress dips down my chest in an immodest u-formation. The bodice and neckline are embossed with tiny diamond studs that catch the light and sparkle brilliantly.
"Thank you, Cinna." The clothes are so beautiful, but I can no longer afford to fall under the Capitol's spell. All the same, I can't resist a small twirl in front of the mirror. "What happened to the flames?" I inquire.
He smiles, "Oh, they're coming." Just as he speaks, there's a knock at the door. "That will be your flames, Miss Primrose."
Cinna opens the door, and in come my prep team that I had hoped I would never see again.
"Prim!" squeals Isadinalia. "You looked perfect at the tribute parade, absolutely stunning. My heart just stopped when I saw you riding out in that chariot."
Arturosious chimes in, "And darling, your training scores are unprecedented! The last time someone from District 12 got a 9 in training was, well, frankly, never! You're a star!"
"Are those real diamonds?" "Who curled your hair?" "Do you think a little darker eye makeup, maybe?" "Some red lipstick would look so sexy." The preppy pair flutters around me, and it's all I can do to keep from swatting them away. But a meaningful look from Cinna reminds me that I do need them to help me prepare for my interview. Even if I don't plan on winning the Games, I still need to be able to help my friends survive. So I let them puff and smear and prink, twittering on about meaningless parties and insignificant people.
Finally, they step back. "Cinna?" Arturosious asks. "Can we? Now?"
Cinna nods, and Isadinalia pulls a small box from her pocket. She is trembling with excitement, and cannot contain a small squeal as she lifts the lid. "Oh Cinna." Arturosious sighs contentedly. "It's beautiful."
"Miss Primrose," Cinna addresses me. "Close your eyes now, and hold out your arms."
I can hear Arturosious giggle as their three sets of footsteps approach me. I feel vulnerable standing here in the dark, but for some unknowable reason I trust Cinna. So I keep my eyes shut.
After what feels like hours of the three of them retreat. I can feel the air around me cool without their energies.
"Wow," breathes Isadinalia. I open my eyes. And I scream.
This time it is no dress: my arms are covered with veins of fire.
It takes a lot of convincing, but eventually I realize that despite all appearances my arms are not actually filled with molten fire.
"Get it, Prim?" Isadinalia explains. "You're an eruption! Volcanic power raining down on all of Panem."
"They'll love it!" squeals Arturosious.
Once I come to terms with the fact that the fire in my arms is only an illusion that cannot hurt me, I start to enjoy it. The fire flickers and surges, giving the impression that my veins carry flames in the place of blood. I am no longer simply on fire. No, I have become fire. Invincible, powerful, brilliant. I will burn down the Capitol and their horrible Games. I will torch the barriers between districts so I can be with Jace, and Awren can be with Cynth.
"Prim," Cinna gently interrupts my thoughts. "It's time for you to go join the other tributes."
I nod, and then decide that I want to say something after all. "Thanks." I smile around at Arturosious, Isadinalia, and Cinna. "Thank you so much."
They all smile and wish me luck. They wave goodbye as I step into the elevator where Effie and Awren await me. And that's the last I'll ever see of them.
On the way down, Effie reviews everything she told me in our private session. To remember my posture, to smile, to answer the questions graciously and intelligently. I will be playing an underestimated little girl tonight; small, but strong. I am to be sweet, and loving towards the Capitol audience, but I also will show fierceness, a fire, within me.
Easy.
We arrive at the bottom floor, and I expect us to get out. But then we go down further, to a floor below the ground. The elevator doors open onto a tunnel that is crowded with tributes. There are large televisions dangling from the ceilings that project what I can guess is the stage and crowd awaiting me at the end of the tunnel. I can hear the roar of the audience, and the nervous energy buzzing between tributes sets my teeth on edge. I'm running on pure adrenaline now.
The lights on the stage brighten, and Caesar Flickerman is ready to step in.
Tribute interviews are about to begin.
Soooo, there's only one more chapter until the Games. Not sure how I feel about that... I guess I've drawn the beginning out long enough, but I really don't want to start having to write deaths. Probably should have considered that before writing a HG fic! Will update when I can, please forgive the irregularity! ~Fancyclopedia