Chapter Nine
I wake once more to Eudora's voice and her fist rapping on my door. I'm meant to be at breakfast in half an hour. From there, we'll be told the plans for today. We'll be getting ready for the interviews, I know.
As soon as my feet meet the ground, I'm resolved to make this day new. This is a new day. I am a new person today. I am not weak. I will not crumble. I am a strong tribute from District Four, and I can win.
Quickly, I take a shower, minimizing the time I spend playing with the different buttons, and get dressed in a much more modest, much more comfortable outfit than the ones that I've been made to wear this week. A pair of black pants and an olive green top that rests along my collar bone and the sleeves are billowy and reach my elbow.
My hair has been pulled back and braided so often these past few days that it's nice to leave it down in its maintained, curly catastrophe. Besides, today is my last day to dress how I want before I'm plucked and tamed and painted to meet the Capitol's standards. When I reach the dining room, the only one missing is Mason. I sit in the seat across from Finnick. Mags is to his left. Eudora is at the head.
I feel my anxiety rising within me, but I push I back under as I reach to fill my plate. Right now, I need to eat. Right now, I don't need to worry about the interviews tomorrow. I don't need to worry about the Games the next day. Right now, I need to worry about today. I'd prefer not worrying at all, but I don't think that I'm capable of that.
I, instead, focus on the stew I'd ladled over a bed of rice. It's been different every day, and today, it's a chicken concoction. Whatever it's made with, it's delicious. I eat it slowly, as to savor every flavor, every taste, every bite.
"Starfish, are you listening?"
"Wha?"
"We're telling you the plans for the day, Starfish. It might do you well to pay attention."
I straighten up and put my spoon down. Evidently, I had eaten every last morsel of the stew and rice. I hadn't really noticed.
Mason is now sitting beside me, playing around with his the stew he'd put on his plate.
I really can go off on a tangent.
"Anyway, Starfish, Mason," Finnick begins, "Today, the two of you belong to Eudora, Mags, and I. Tomorrow, you have the live interviews with Flickerman, and you'll be with your prep teams and stylists most of the day. Now, since you two are being trained separately, Eudora's gonna spend the first four hours with you, Starfish, on presentation." I look over at Eudora. She looks so excited to get her hands on me. Now that's scarier than anything I've been scared of for the past 72 hours. "Mason, you're with Mags and I the first four hours on content for your interview. Then you'll switch."
Eudora claps her hands together excitedly. She grabs a hold of my wrist and takes me back to my room.
The thought of spending four hours with Eudora makes me cringe. She spends every second of those four hours with me in a dress and high heels. It's not as torturous as it would have been had Eudora not all but forced me to practice last night. The high-heels don't seem so bad now, but the dress is another story. I'm used to shorter dresses, and this thing is a full-length gown. I keep tripping over the dress and making myself look like a fish out of water. When I finally look graceful as a mermaid in the sea, Eudora has to address my posture. Apparently, there is a proper way to sit, and I tend to hunch my shoulders.
"If you're uncomfortable, you're doing it right," Eudora tells me as she pulls back my shoulders, so that I'm sitting up straight. "Chin up, smile big and beautiful," she laughs when I smile, "and relax, they'll love you." A more comfortable, yet acceptable, smile reaches my face. Eudora seems pleased. I work on eye contact and hand gestures. A timer goes off. "Shoot, well, you'll do great tomorrow, Capri. You're off to Finnick and Mags now."
I change back into what I had worn this morning, and Eudora and I head to lunch. Lunch was a short affair. We all eat quickly, and before we know it, Eudora is dragging Mason away to work on his presentation.
After they leave, Finnick directs me to one of the couches in the living room. He and Mags stand in front of me, looking and then whispering amongst themselves for a few moments before looking back at me. This cycle went on for a few minutes before I speak up. "What are you two doing?"
"We're trying to figure out how to play you, Starfish," Finnick bites his lip and motions me to stand up. Then twirl. Then sit back down. I feel like a caged animal at a zoo. "The Capitol loves you already. You volunteered for a girl with one arm. You're gorgeous. You got a good training score. You're a Career. Everyone is wrapped around your finger."
"But. . ." I say, sensing the "but" coming in anyway.
"But I don't know what will get you the most sponsors, Starfish. Everyone's intrigued, but no one knows anything about you." Finnick takes a seat on the couch across from me and next to Mags. There's something he's not telling me, but I choose to ignore it.
I've had to watch the tribute interviews my entire life, just like everyone has. Everyone has a different approach. Most everyone. The Careers usually play it the same. They're vicious killers. And that's how they play it every year. Cocky. Arrogant. Malicious. Inhumane. Every year. At least One and Two.
Mags gets an excited look on her face. She pats her hand on Finn's leg. While she whispers in his ear, Finn gets the same excited look on his face. When Mags is done telling Finnick whatever she told Finnick, Finnick grabs her head and kisses the top of it.
His face is lit up like a little boy that's just caught his first fish. "Now listen, Starfish, I don't know if you're gonna like it or not, but it's the best ya've got." He takes a moment to smile at Mags' idea before telling it to me.
He wants me to be in awe of the Capitol and their ways. They want me to be charming, which they said wouldn't be too hard but I don't believe them. Henry's not to be my boyfriend. Sara is meant to be just a family friend, she's like a sister to me. Which she is. I won't be lying there. Then as soon as my training score and the arena come up, I'm to exude confidence. I have to laugh at all of the mundane jokes Ceaser Flickerman will tell me. I need to compliment whatever color his hair and suit are this year.
I try and pull of the sexy image that Finn wanted me to. He thinks I'm doing a great job, but I feel like a complete and utter fool. He has me do it over and over until I've seemed to convince myself that I am sexy. I cringe at the word, but I fake it until I've pleased Finn.
He goes on to ask me questions, and I'm meant to answer them how I will tomorrow. Finnick is Ceaser. Mags is the audience. She gives me silent cheers and gestures of encouragement throughout my "interview". We go through my three minute interview at least 30 times with different questions most every time. Some questions come up more than once. I get the feeling that those are the questions Ceaser is more likely to ask me.
At the end of about the 30th interview, Finnick gives me a hug. He tells me that I'll do great tomorrow. I have no other choice but to believe him. Mags tells me the same. She tells me how I'm sure to have them wrapped around my finger as soon as I walk onto the stage.
Before I know it, the four hours are up. I ask Finnick if I can stay in my room for dinner. I don't know if I can make it through two more dinners with Willa, Plato, Eudora, Finnick and Mags. And I'd rather save it for tomorrow night, after the interviews . . . before the Games.
I stay in my room the rest of the day. I feast from the place in the wall that gives me whatever food I could dream of.
The next morning, I have a different awakening. When I see my prep team standing above me, I suddenly wish that it would have been Eudora yelling at me to get up. Instead, I'm greeted by immediately being poked and prodded by their Capitol-length fingernails, green fingers, and pointy silver sticks.
They scrub me down to "ground zero" as they liked to call it and then worked from there. My face is painted to a simple, yet beautiful, perfection. I'm surprised that they keep my natural curls. They simply tame them. Make them more beautiful. They stand me before the window-mirror, and a wave of guilt crashes over me as I think over what I'm supposed to be tonight.
Henry. He'll be crushed. I feel guilty that I've hardly thought of him this entire week. In my defense, I'm doing all of this to come home to him, to come home to Dad, and to come home to Paige. I hope they understand that. But I don't think they will.
"No crying," Thisbe scolds me. "You're ruining the masterpiece." She wipes under my eyes and fixes my makeup. I hadn't realized I was crying. I don't realize a lot of things about myself anymore. I stand still and try not to think too much as they paint my naked body. Every time my mind wanders to Henry, or Dad, or Paige, I force my mind in the other direction. Towards the interview.
When I look in the mirror, they have me painted with scales. Great. I'm going to be a fish for the interviews. That will get me sponsors. Looking like a fish.
It's late afternoon when they run off in a cluster to fetch Plato. He comes in, smiling with my prep team waddling behind him like ducklings, holding my dress. What I can only assume is my dress. It's covered in white plastic. He makes me close my eyes as he puts on my dress and does my hair.
The dress feels wonderful, but my abdomen is bare. I guess that's why my prep team was painting me earlier. Plato leads me to a chair, so I can sit while he works on my hair. I feel a few clips go in, a spritz of spray here and there, but no heat. While I'm sitting, he has Thisbe put heels on me. They're not heavy like the ones yesterday. They'll be easier to walk in, which is a relief.
Plato dismisses the prep team and tells me to open my eyes after he's walked me some way from where I was sitting.
I'm a mermaid. That's why they were painting scales on me. The gown is a wispy, white material that is loose around my breasts, absent at my abdomen, with one wide yet thin strap on my left shoulder. It then rejoins at my waist in a tighter way in a slightly more glimmer-y and slightly more sheer material until about halfway down my calf, where it flows out. A starfish and pearls are strategically placed in my hair so that it won't come loose but remain in its maintained and perfect fashion.
"You're stunning," Plato smiles at me, and I can't help but smile back. He's right. I am beautiful. I am stunning. I am out of breath, and I don't know why. I place my hands on Plato's chest to catch my breath. "So you're all ready for the interviews, then?"
I hesitate. Am I ready? "Just nervous is all." I want to twist my hair in my fingers. That's what I usually do when I'm nervous. But I don't want to ruin his masterpiece.
Plato twists me towards him, and we sit together. "Don't be, they'll love you." He kisses my cheek and begins to walk out. "Why are you still sitting there? C'mon, love, you've got a crowd to enchant." He extends his hand with a smile, and I giggle and walk towards him, now completely transformed into the girl Finnick and Mags want me to be. Sexy. Endearing. Confident.
As we're walking down the hallway, I'm hanging on his shoulder and whispering in his ear how much I love the dress. How great of a job he did with it. It makes me sick slightly, but I need the practice if I'm going to convince the Capitol. Plato seems to be believing it, which is good. At least that's what I'm convincing myself.
We're the first ones to the living room, so I sit on the couch and flirt with Plato. Soon, I will be sitting side-by-side with the other 23 tributes on a stage constructed outside the Training Center. We'll sit by as each tribute goes forward. Starting with the female from District 1 and ending with the male from District 12.
Shortly after we arrive, Willa arrives with Mason. Plato bids me a short farewell before going to speak to Willa. Mason sits on the other end of the couch in silence. Something changed since I saw him last. He's much more morbid now. He seemed so sure of himself at the beginning of the week. I wonder what's changed, but I don't dare ask him.
Eudora and Mags appear from the hallway. We have a while before we're supposed to meet the others in the lobby, but it worries me that Finnick is absent. Eudora voices my same thought, but brings us together on the couches to give Mason and me a "pep talk" as she liked to call it.
Mags had sat next to me. "You'll be great, sweetie," she whispers in my ear. I find myself caring immensely about this woman that I've spent less than a few days with. I feel bad that I haven't spent much time with her.
The elevator dings. Finnick appears, adjusting his suit and his hair. His look is solemn. "Am I late?" I look down. I don't want this to be me, but I can't lose. Maybe they won't like me as much as they liked Finnick. Maybe, just maybe.
"No," Eudora answers with a smile and stands, "we were just heading down actually." The District 4 entourage files into the elevator, and we make the short journey to the lobby. One, Two, Three, Seven, and Nine are here already.
Mags instructs us to go talk with our allies before we parade onto the stage. Finnick grasps my arm before we head over. "Have your way with Ceaser." I can tell he's smirking as he says it. He wants me to be the one to kill him, but for now, he's wrapped around my finger like the Capitol.
Ceaser looks like a monster as Mason and I walk over to him. I have the most confident look on my face hiding the fear that I experience when I'm around him. I don't know what I am supposed to do to have my way with Ceaser, so I simply stand by him. Valarie instantly begins talking to Mason. Rory and Gem are whispering amongst themselves.
It's me and Ceaser. In a sense of desperation, I glance over at Finn. He sends me a nod, but his face is void of emotion. I can't "have my way with Ceaser" when I can barely stand a foot from him and not look to my mentor for help. Ceaser turns me to face Seven and Nine, who are standing fairly close together, but still surrounded by their entourage.
"Remember how I told you I was going to kill them?" How could I forget? He wanted Piers, the boy from Nine, to be his first kill. He got a ten in training, so I'm sure that's just fueled his fire. The scores tell the Capitol that he and Piers are equals in this game.
Then he would off his partner. I remember her name from the reaping. Evella. She's the tiniest little thing and has a slight limp. Knowing that she is going to die hurts me immensely. She reminds me so much of Sara.
He wanted us to kill Seven slowly. I was going to kill the girl. Slit her throat at an excruciatingly slow pace. Ceaser was going to make Birch watch before he snapped his neck.
"How could I forget?" I breathe and turn to face him with a dazzling smile. "I can't wait." I look as eager as possible, to convince him.
"I can see that," he smirks down at me. I can't show it, but he makes me nervous. He's a head taller than me, and could kill me in an instant. "Wait just a few hours, then we can get our hands on them." He places a hand on my shoulder, but his gaze is over my head. I assume he's glaring at Piers. I don't understand why he hates the boy so much.
The other twelve tributes arrive and we're filed into a line. I give Mason's hand a quick squeeze of encouragement before we're paraded onto the stage.
A/N: Once again, I hope you all are enjoying this story. Thank you to everyone who commented, favorite, and followed since the last update.
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