Caesar has bright yellow hair. He looks like his head has sprouted a small patch of marigolds, but of course the crowd doesn't care. Jace is standing in front of me, and she turns around to make a face. "I've used lamps that were dimmer than whatever he has on his head right now." I giggle nervously, but it's true. They hardly need the spotlight on Caesar tonight- he's glowing.
Jace looks beautiful; in fact, we all do. Brooke is stunning in a long, fitted turquoise gown with a bare back except for a small row of fabric stretched across her upper back. Her hair is stacked on her head in a tall pyramid, accented with sparkling gems to match the dress. Her face, tear-stained and red, does not match the rest of her elegant image. Curt has donned a simple, deep black suit with a sea-green turban to match Brooke's dress. The red heads from 3 are dressed in a flowing sky blue gown and a deep blue suit the color of a cloudless midnight sky. Will is draped in long, sweeping robes the same deep green as his glinting eyes. Cynth is gleefully twirling in a puffy yellow frock, and I notice that I am not the only one who has noticed her radiance tonight. How long did it take Awren to run over there with her? I wonder.
Jace, however… she sparkles. It may be our friendship guiding my preferences, but she is by far the most beautiful tribute in the hall. She wears a simple, light blue dress with brown rings around the wide skirt. The front is beaded with gold and ivory, forming a triangular tribal pattern over her chest and middle. The dress is gorgeous, but Jace's beaming face is the true beauty. Her wide brown eyes twinkle and not even the heavy paint on her lips can diffuse the grin that spreads across her face as we dissolve into laughter.
Everyone looks happy and excited on this night, even though tomorrow will be a nightmare. Maybe this is a chance to forget for a moment. To just enjoy the beauty, and let that be enough for the night. The interviews will be reminder enough. Just let the fear go.
I hug Jace tight- her happiness will be enough for me tonight. Nothing else matters for now.
Caesar is talking. He teases the crowd, "Maybe the tributes don't want to meet you this year… You don't seem like you're excited enough to get to see them." He laughs out loud at the crowd's cheers of protest. "People of Panem," he yells, "this is your 75th Hunger Games, and 3rd Quarter Quell! This year's Games are unprecedented in technology and I promise you the Gamemakers have worked all year to make this the most exciting Games you will ever see."
The crowd is going berserk. Even the tributes seem to be getting excited. That's the effect Caesar Flickerman has on people, he makes our own televised deaths sound like a thrilling adventure rather than heartless murders. And yet, I don't dislike Caesar… He manipulates the crowd, but he does so by being so genuine and friendly.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Caesar is saying. "let's bring out your first tribute with a warm welcome! From the luxurious District 1, bring your hands together for the lovely Valour…" The audience explodes into crazed applause and the girl with the poisoned smile struts onto the stage.
She bobs over to Caesar, and he kisses her hand in greeting. Then, he gestures to two chairs behind him and the two of them sit. Valour sits on the very edge of her chair, like she's about to take off at any moment. There is so much excitement in her body language.
"Hi Caesar!" She squeals girlishly. She turns to the audience. "Hi Panem!" The entire audience returns her greeting.
"Valour from District 1…" Caesar introduces her a second time in case we missed it 30 seconds earlier. "I understand you were the very first tribute to volunteer for this year's Games."
"Oh, was I? I guess I just got lucky there, being from District 1, and all. I am so glad to be here! I mean, a Quarter Quell!" She shrieks as if she cannot contain her enthusiasm. "This is history," she gushes. "I remember watching the Games as a little girl, and I would always ask my mom when I would get to try. I guess you could say this has always been my goal."
"And you must be very good at achieving your goals, Miss Valour," Caesar observes.
Jace takes my hand. "Prim, you don't have to watch."
I realize that watching Valour has made me feel sick to my stomach. It's too much, her acting so excited about the Games. Like they're exciting and not certain death. So I nod to Jace, "Thanks." We sit together with our back against the cool steel wall of the tunnel and ignore the excitement on the screens. Valour's three minutes pass quickly, and soon her male companion has replaced her.
Caesar introduces him as Mox, and he seems almost shy in front of the Capital audience. He is soft-spoken and responds to Caesar's questions quickly and to the point. His soft brown hair is scattered messily across his forehead, and it's easy to see that he is playing cute and shy for the cameras. No doubt he'll be less shy when it's just him killing another tribute. In that way, he seems even scarier than Valour. Mox is a liar, where with Valour I feel like I know exactly what to expect.
Brooke cries onstage. Caesar asks her how she feels the quell twist will affect the Games, and she breaks down in tears. Watching her, a Career and supposedly one of the strongest contenders in the Games, break down into uncontrolled sobs on national television is like a stab to my heart. As far as Careers go, I like Brooke. She's fierce, but I know she's human. She told me about the horrible quell secret when it must have broken her heart to even speak about it. If any Career had to win, I'd prefer it to be her. But now, she's making herself look weak in front of all the sponsors. Poor Brooke. At this rate, no one will sponsor her in the Games.
After Brooke, Curt comes on. He doesn't say a word. He just nods and grunts like he doesn't care enough to form words. Or maybe he doesn't trust himself to speak. What words would he like to say?
The red-headed girl from 3 is apparently nowhere near as smart as she looks. When Caesar asks if she has a strategy for the Games, she just looks at him blankly and shrugs. "I guess it'll just come to me, right? It's all instinct, I think." Her male counterpart is much more prepared, saying that he doesn't want to be anywhere without water.
The tributes from 4 are witty and mature. They carry a sarcastic banter with Caesar for each of their 3 minutes, leaving the impression of two strong and smart tributes.
When Cynth goes out for her interview, I can't look away from the screen. Awren comes and sits with me and Jace, and the three of us sit together and pretend we're not crying. We pretend like it's normal for 12 year olds to be so acceptant of their own deaths. Caesar asks her about her home, and she tells us how she can see the mountains from her window at night. "You will be strong like those mountains, won't you, Cynth?" Caesar asks. She nods.
"Whenever I have nightmares, I just remember how tall they are, how they stand up through the worst blizzards. They keep me safe."
No one is pretending anymore. Our tears splash against the smooth, cold floor.
Daz surprises everyone by being quite talkative with Caesar. I haven't heard him say more than 10 words in a string since I met him, but now he's talking intelligently with Caesar like they're old friends. "When it comes down to it, I'm going to protect my sister. I won't let anything happen to her, or my parents. We're a family, and we've survived hard times before."
His fierce eyes flash as he dares the audience to challenge his statement. No one does. For this moment, all of Panem believes that he will send his entire family home alive. I wonder if he believes it too.
"Prim?" Jace has placed her warm hand on my folded leg. "I can't watch this anymore." I can see from the pain in her eyes that she means it. This is going to haunt her nightmares already, but she is on the verge of breaking down.
"It's okay. It's okay." I take her hand and clasp it in between my own. "You're safe right now. We are all as safe as we will ever be. Nothing can hurt you now." She leans her head over and rests it on my thigh. I stroke her beautiful hair, and she anchors me to the ground. I feel my own fear fading away as I soothe my friend. Jace and I are safe. We are safe together in a safe place we are safe we are safe we are safe.
I relax into my own denial, and soon I feel Jace's heart rate slow to a calmer pulse. She opens her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers. Jace starts to sit up, but I shake my head.
"Please stay." I say. Her weight on my leg is the only thing keeping me grounded rather than flying off into the imminent fear of tomorrow's danger. I start talking then, because the nervous energy is filling me and I need a release. "I guess we just have to pretend everything's okay, right?" I meet Jace's eyes, and see them widen with concern. I must look pretty desperate right now… I feel pretty desperate. "I'm clinging to whatever shreds of happiness are tossed my way: this dress, your friendship, Caesar being so friendly. But really, this situation is awful. I'm going to be dead in a week. We're all going to be dead in a week, but here we are talking about our home lives on television. Everyone is going to watch us die. Everyone is going to see my death. Everyone…" I trail off and catch myself. Do not go down that path, Prim.
That's what happened to my mother after the explosion. She let herself be swept away in the waves of pain and misery, and she never resurfaced. I have to keep myself afloat now; this is not my time to drown. I have to stay for Jace. So I pull myself together. "But we can't think like that. We have to ignore it. We have to be grateful for our shredded happiness, and make the best of what we still have left. It's not much, but it's better than letting the misery take over, right?"
Jace smiles sadly and nods her head. Emotionally exhausted, we turn back to the screen. Will's interview is just concluding. He rises on his fit, muscular legs and flashes his fanged grin towards the cameras. Then, shaking hands with Caesar, he says, "I'll see you soon. This will not be my final interview in the Capitol." He winks, and exits.
The tributes from 8 and 9 are pitiful. None of them are much bigger than Cynth even though they are all several years older. The girl from 8 is named Lana. She acts tough, and you can tell she is trying her hardest to prove herself for the audience. But no one's fooled. Anyone can see the tear streaks as plain as day through the makeup on her face. When the boy from 9 ascends the stage, he's shaking. But he manages to get a grip, and he almost convincingly pulls off the funny-boy persona his mentor set him to act out. Caesar does his best, but when it comes down to it, no amount of forced laughter and assurances of determination can mask the fog of defeat already settled on their minds.
I just can't afford to think like that.
Jace is hyperventilating. There are only 5 minutes remaining before her interview and the panic that has loomed above her mind has finally broken through. I put my hands on her shoulders and stare into her terrified eyes. "Jace, it's ok. Just listen to my voice. It's ok." I take her hand, and we walk down the hallway, away from the others. They all stare at Jace with mixtures of fear and pity reflecting in their eyes. I'm lucky I've seen panic attacks before.
Once we've walked about halfway to the end of the tunnel, I turn to face Jace. "Jace, I want you to cup your hands, can you do that for me? I want you to cup your hands and focus on breathing into the space between your thumbs. Nice and slow. On my count." Jace complies through her hysteric tears, and inhales and exhales as I count. I can tell she has dealt with far larger and worse attacks before, because she quickly regains control of her breathing and within 3 minutes is wiping tears from her face while suppressing the remaining sobs.
What could she have lived through that is more traumatizing than this? What is haunting her tortured mind?
She gasps one final jagged breath, and then walks out for her interview like nothing ever went wrong. My beautiful, strong friend is smiling and charming for the Capitol, and shows that she is smart and a valid contender in these twisted Games.
"What, in your opinion, has been the biggest change from District 11 to the Capitol? I'm sure there are quite a few differences, right?" Caesar is asking.
"It sounds kind of strange, Caesar," Jace starts, "but I never had a friend in District 11. It's always been just me, always alone. It was hard, and so often I wished I would die so the loneliness would stop. But now, when I am actually faced with death, I have finally found a friend. Isn't it just the cruelest trick of fate that my soul mate lives in another district?"
Caesar is, for the first time I've seen all night, speechless. He can only offer the saddest, and most pained smile to the open-hearted girl before him. She takes his hand. "Before my name was drawn, no one would speak to me beyond simple directions. Here, everyone is so friendly, so kind. A few minutes ago, I was sobbing in the waiting hall. But it wasn't because I'm scared for the Games. I couldn't handle the idea that if I win these Games, I will lose my only friend in the world. I've never loved someone like this, and I can't, no, I won't lose that."
There isn't a dry eye in all of Panem. My Jace has torn down every emotional barrier and left our hearts vulnerable to all the horrors of the world.
She's amazing.
Jace is applauded with the most intensity this cruel Capitol could ever award such a tribute. Then she walks off, and Quin takes the stage. He waves at the audience, and sits down next to Caesar. He smiles brightly, then takes something from his pocket. What is it? I can't see from the angle of the camera, but I can see the look of horror on Caesar's face. "No, Quin, don't! Stop!" Caesar makes a desperate dive, and comes up victorious.
A steak knife in his hand glints in the spotlight.
Quin wails, a tortured scream of anguish erupting from his suicidal lungs. "No!" He shrieks, "Give it back! Don't make me go in there, I need to die!" He is dragged from the stage by two bulky Peacekeepers.
Caesar stands there with the knife in his hand and watches as the crowd falls into chaos. Not even the esteemed host can bring this into a happier light.
But someone can. "Citizens of Panem, and gracious live audience, please remain calm. The deranged tribute is being dealt with presently, and we will now continue with our interviews. We must not let District 12 feel cheated!" The President's voice booms out from speakers spread all around the room, and silence falls immediately. The message is simple: shut up and continue like nothing happened at all. This rebellious act is not going to be tolerated, or even acknowledged.
Caesar places the knife on the floor beneath his chair, and regains his composure. Pasting a cheerful smile onto his yellow-edged lips, he calls my name. He introduces me to the audience as if there is any way to recover the mood. Oh, he's introducing me, I realize. In a trance, I stumble out onto the stage. Caesar's eyes hold nothing but pity for me as he takes me in. I realize now that my elaborate dress and makeup now just look sad. I'm just another sad tribute, another depressed little corpse they've dressed up.
So what do I do? I start talking. Honestly.
"I hope Quin's alright," I say to Caesar. He nods, distracted, but clearly grateful that I have made the effort to start talking. "He never talked to me much, but he was one of us. He just let the Games beat him before he had a chance to play."
Caesar looks up and gives me the ghost of a smile. "I do believe you're right, Miss Everdeen. So tell me, how are you beating the Games?"
"Honestly, I can't think about tomorrow at all. It's too much. The thought of seeing Awren, or Cynth, or Jace in an arena is enough to drive me insane, but my mother's in there too and I can't let her down. She needs me to keep her safe, and I have to protect her. There are too many people who I need to protect, Caesar. How do you choose which of your loved ones you most want to save?"
Caesar shakes his head. "I guess you just have to let fate take its course, my dear. I wish you could save all of them, but unfortunately that's not how the Games work. We just have to remember all those who pass in the spirit of the lone Victor."
"My sister and father died in a mine accident a few years ago. I see them everywhere. Their ghosts are in everything, the flowers, the trees, their leather boots, and the coal dust drifting out of the mines after a day's work. I don't think the ones we lose ever go away." I don't know why I am telling this to Panem. I don't think I want Panem to know all this, but it's too late. The humanity of the moment has engulfed my mouth, and is spilling all the tender details of my 15-year-old past.
"Your sister," Caesar starts, "did the two of you get along?"
"Yes," I smile at the flood of happy memories. "Katniss, that was her name, was always looking out for me. She made sure I was doing well in school, and she snuck me pieces of her food under the table when there wasn't enough to go around. When I would have bad dreams, she would sing to me until the monsters went away. Now, whenever I get scared, I just remember her singing. She always sang about a beautiful meadow where we could be safe."
"I think Katniss would be proud of you, Primrose. You are so brave, and I wish you the best of luck in the Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." He stands and kisses the top of my head. I leave. I don't have the energy or the drive for a wave for the audience.
Awren steps out, but I can't pay attention to his interview. I'm too full of adrenaline; bursting with unwanted energy. His three minutes dash by, and I am bouncing on the balls of my feet.
When it's over, I realize that this might well be my last night on Earth. The final barrier between me and the Games is a restless night's sleep. But Effie is a step ahead of me. As soon as we enter the penthouse after an exhausted elevator ride, she tells me to open my mouth and pops a small blue pill in. "Swallow," she says, "you do not want to start the Games without a proper night's sleep."
And so it happened that on my last night in the Capitol, I enjoyed a heavy and dreamless sleep.
Yeah so that's that. Games begin next chapter, and no character is safe. And on that cheerful note, thanks for your continued readership of my lame-o fic! ~Fancyclopedia