A/N: Thanks to BookFreak976 for the suggestion for this chapter. This is Hazelle's perspective on the earlier "Tribute Interviews" Chapter. Some of the text is quoting directly from Suzanne Collins' text in The Hunger Games.
It's required viewing. The games don't start until tomorrow, but tonight they're broadcasting the tribute interviews when Caesar Flickerman, the slimy host of the Hunger Games, tries his best to weasel personal stories out of the children heading to their deaths in the arena. Another year, another slate of tributes we're forced to watch battle to their deaths. Only this year won't be like the rest; my son's closest friend and hunting partner is a volunteer. To say it's been tense watching the pre-game broadcasts would be an understatement.
Katniss is strong, independent, and skilled, which gives her a better chance in the games than anyone from district 12 has had for years. She's also pretty, which should help her win over fans in the Capitol where looks seem to be all they care about. She and the other district tribute, a boy named Peeta Mellark, have already made an impression on the Capitol audience. Their flashy entrance in the opening ceremony has since been bolstered by the best training scores I can remember for our district.
I'm relieved Katniss did so well in training. With her history of hunting to feed her family and impeccable aim, her score - an almost perfect 11 - was no surprise to those of us who know her but still a relief, especially for Gale. Tonight on the other hand might not play so well to Katniss' strengths. She can be charming but she is a very private person with a contrarian streak, so answering Flickerman's questions may be a problem.
When the tributes walk onto the stage, I instinctively watch for Katniss toward the end of the line. The audience cheers as the tributes take the stage, but the cheering seems particularly loud when she first appears - or perhaps it is simply that more cheering than I'm used to hearing for a district 12 tribute.
Soon I see I shouldn't have worried; Katniss will strike the Capitol audience dumb on her looks alone. I have to hand it to her stylists, who have created unbelievable show-stopping costumes for our tributes this year, nothing like the coal miner costumes we're used to seeing. Katniss is nothing less than ravishing by any standards, and I'm sure the Capitol audience will go crazy for this dramatic look. Her fiery dress shimmers in reds and yellows and whites, and the stage lights glint off her with every move giving the illusion that she is again, a girl on fire. She looks dangerous, and I'm sure this will only enhance their impression of the girl who scored an 11 in training.
Most of the interviews are predictable and forgettable. I mourn for these children, but after a lifetime of these games I am resigned to know that their memories will fade quickly for all but their closest families and friends. I'm sure in the Capitol they're each garnering some interest in the target audience. It exhausts me simply thinking of these children's brief futures. I fear the long lived burden for those who lose someone to the games. Everyone in our district touched by the games - from our one victor Haymitch Abernathy, to the Camor family here in the Seam, to the mayor's wife - have been broken by it. I worry whether Gale would be able to move on if she dies.
The girl from district 1 is scarcely clothed. She's what I secretly think of as the annual sacrificial lamb to the disgusting leeches of the Capitol. There is always at least one girl whose mentors and stylists have decided to play up the sexy angle and take it too far. It makes me sick how the tributes are treated as pieces of meat in a butcher shop. Of course, that skimpy outfit will catch the eye of boys and men around Panem. I am relieved that Gale seems appropriately disgusted by the display.
I sit at the table to work on a pile of clothing that needs mending as we watch the broadcast. I keep a close eye on Gale, not because of the skimpily dressed girl but because I can see the tension building in him as we wait for Katniss' interview. The next interview that stands out is the boy from district 2, who is scarily aggressive like so many careers who become ruthless killers in the arena. Meanwhile Posy clambers for Gale's attention but I can see he is trying to figure out Katniss' opponents as if somehow he could improve her odds. Posy's pushed one of her rag dolls into his hand, but he's not paying attention to her attempts to engage him in her playtime. Eventually Posy gives up trying to keep his attention and plays on her own on the far side of the couch.
One interview after the next, the tributes each get their few minutes to win over the audience of sponsors and to be seen by their families one last time under the illusion of safety. I don't pay close attention to most of them. Finally, after the tiny girl and hulking boy tribute from district 11, Katniss is called up to center stage where she greets Caesar nervously, and I focus again on the broadcast and the effect it will have on our family.
Caesar begins smoothly with a question about what's impressed her in the Capitol. I think we all hold our breath as we wait for her response. Gale stares intently at the screen as if he can control Katniss' interview by force of will. Katniss pauses, looking anxiously over the crowd. Something or someone seems to calm her nerves and she answers firmly, "the lamb stew," which gets a small laugh from both the host and their audience. He continues the joke for moment before moving on to ask her about the opening ceremonies. Katniss again earns a laugh for her response about being scared of burning alive before graciously praising her stylist.
When Katniss twirls in her glittery dress showing off her stylist's design, she looks more girlish than I have ever seen her. It's an amazing effect, as the dress seems to engulf her in non-threatening flames. After several spins Katniss grabs on to Caesar's arm to balance herself, giggling sweetly as she tells him how dizzy she is. I'm completely shocked at her transformation. Gale looks as if he can't even recognize her as we watch her spin and as Flickerman's arm wraps around her with a joke about Haymitch's drinking. Haymitch actually waves off the joke with a deprecating smile. Then Caesar asks her about her training score. Though Gale is scowling, I smile thinking of exactly how she would have gotten her score.
Katniss, though, is coy with the slick host, confirming with the Gamemakers in the balcony above that she isn't allowed to say. Gale nods approvingly, surely thinking that she needs to keep her best talents a secret as long as possible for the games. The Capitol audience will find out soon enough, if Katniss can survive the Cornucopia tomorrow.
Then Caesar digs into this tribute's personal tragedy as he always does, bringing up the reaping and Katniss' decision to volunteer. Her quiet voice rings through the silent City Circle as she tells them about Prim and how she promised her she would try and win. I glance at my son, a bit relieved that we've seen this small piece of the real Katniss tonight. Perhaps it will help him when he sees her in the arena.
Katniss gets a huge reaction from the audience as her interview time comes to an end, making me wonder which part of her performance has resonated with the audience of sponsors. I wonder if she was memorable enough to win support there. At least she didn't hurt her chances, I think.
Rory and Vick quickly lose interest again and Gale visibly relaxes as Katniss takes her seat and Peeta moves to center stage. Peeta. I don't know much about the boy from town and I'd rather keep it that way. It's often easiest to learn as little as possible about our own tributes, knowing their families are suffering somewhere just down the road and that there is nothing we can do about it. We can't ignore Katniss in the games no matter how slim her chances of surviving are. But for Peeta, as for many other district tributes over the years, I simply hope for a quick and painless death. I don't tune out entirely but my focus returns to the laundry. Early and continuous laughter from the broadcast tells me that Peeta is proving himself to be charming. Bantering with Flickerman from the very start, he seems to be expertly deflecting his answers from anything personal.
Eventually Caesar pushes him into more personal territory by asking about a girlfriend. That sleazy Flickerman weasels Peeta into admitting some crush. When Peeta starts talking about some girl he secretly likes, I see Gale's fists tightly gripping the doll Posy left with him. Uneasily I watch the screen, wondering if Gale knows the girl or if he's merely upset that Peeta's ease in front of the audience is stealing the show from Katniss' interview.
My heart goes out to her, whoever she is, who will have to live with the burden of a tribute's crush.
Then comes the bombshell. Peeta says, "I don't think it's going to work out. Winning . . . won't help in my case."
"Why ever not?" asks Caesar, puzzled.
Peeta's easy-going manner seems to have evaporated. Blushing he stammers, "Because . . . because . . . she came here with me."
I look straight to Gale, whose hands are still clenched around the doll. The muscles of his jaw and hands contract and flex as he fights to contain his emotion in front of us. From the periphery of my view I see the screen change to show Katniss, before flickering back to Peeta. With impulsive anger Gale tears the two halves of the doll apart and hurls them across the room. Posy starts to wail. Hurrying to calm Posy, I toss a reproachful glance Gale's way as I scoop the shrieking girl into my arms, though secretly I am relieved he's so controlled. After all, a rag doll can be mended.
The broadcast ends. I tell Rory and Vick to go clean up to get ready for bed as I calm Posy down and convince her to hug her brothers goodnight. Gale barely reacts when Posy grudgingly hugs his legs before I take her to bed.
Once the kids are settled into bed, I return to my mending at the table. There are still a few pairs of socks to mend, and now a rag doll to repair. In the quiet I stitch up the worn socks. Across the room, Gale doesn't move. He is still staring at the black screen. When I've finished the pair of socks I'm working on I gently say, "Gale, honey, you've been staring at the television for half an hour. They aren't going to broadcast anything more until tomorrow. Why don't you try and get some rest?"
He looks up at me blankly. "Yeah, ma, I guess."
He unfolds himself from the worn couch and silently slips into the bedroom where Vick and Rory are already sleeping. I will probably not see him tomorrow morning; he'll be out of the house as soon as possible to check his snares before the games begin. I hope that he will find some peace out there in the woods. Once she's in the arena it's going to be even harder on him.
A/N: what do you think?