A/N: Sorry it's a bit late, but we are bogged down with schoolwork currently! We hope to update every two weeks now rather than every week and we hope to be able to stick to that!
Also, we want to thank Steady Silence for reviewing, we will get round to answering it soon! :)
District 12 is not the best one to be representing when it comes to the Hunger Games, not because of our terrible track record, but due to the fact we're last when it comes to the interviews, the training score tests, the chariot ride and so on.
Benedict and I are waiting in the wings together, the last two tributes left. I have no idea how long we have been stood there, all I know is that it feels like hours. My palms are covered in a light sheen of sweat and my breathing is laboured. There were thousands of people out there, thousands of people whose attention is going to be focused on only me for at least five minutes, probably longer!
Earlier today, I had spent time being taught interview techniques and my mentor decided that I need to go for the cute angle. I didn't know whether I was happy about it or not, but compared to the others I have witnessed, it isn't bad at all. So far, the ones that have stuck out have been the girl from District 1, who went for the sexiness angle, her burgundy dress hugging her curves with a huge split up the left side of the skirt, stopping half way up her thigh. She had talked confidently, flashing her smile whenever she could and shifting in her seat as more and more of her leg was unveiled.
The other one that had stuck out had been the girl from District 3, who put on a big show of seeming brainy and well-educated, proving to everyone that just because she had a false leg, didn't mean that she didn't have a chance in these Games.
Our interviewer has already proven himself to be as formidable in the interviews as he was on the battlefield. General Virtus had been one of the highest ranking Officers in Caius Snow's army, shortly before a bullet to his thigh forced him to retire from the War.
A huge round of applause startles me out of my reverie and I look up just in time to see Benedict give me a smile before he strides out into the blinding lights, causing another enormous roar to rise up from the crowd. I watch as he answers the questions with ease, clearly having been told to push down his hate of the Games in order to win over the crowd.
By the time he finishes, I feel sick. Being the last one means that I will be the one everyone remembers. I cannot mess this up! As I hear my name being announced, the nerves are threatening to overcome me and I suddenly have the urge to balk this and run in the opposite direction. However, I know that if I do, then it will only lead the others to see me as the weak one. Instead, I take a deep breath and steel myself to walk out onto the stage.
The moment I step into the heat of the spotlight, the atmosphere shifts completely from the one backstage to one filled with the buzz of excitement. I reach for the hand that is held out to shake my own, struggling in my kitten heels as I walk over to the seat, smoothing down the back of my short dress so not to crease it as I sit down.
"So, Willow, you are thirteen, correct?" There's a glimmer of something caught in his eye, an emotion that unsettles me as I answer.
"Um… Yeah. I'm thirteen."
"It must be hard for someone so young to have to say goodbye to your family for the last time."
I swallow hard. I know what he is trying to do, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
"Yes, it's hard, but I'm going to try to win it, for them."
His eyebrow arches slowly, casually, and I bite back the urge to recoil from his cruel expression. "It's always heart-warming to hear such hope from the mouth of someone so young," he sneers.
I smile, not letting my pretence drop. I've dealt with bullies like him far too often to let him get away with it. Looking a little narked that he hadn't got to me, he continued.
"Are you prepared for the challenges you will face in the arena? You look rather small to be strong and fast."
"Not all the best tributes are strong and fast, I have some tricks up my sleeve," I reply, smiling coyly and knowing full well what he has just said is another quip at me.
"You hear that, tributes? Little Willow has some tricks up her sleeve!" he calls out to the other tributes, making the audience burst into laughter.
I grit my teeth and force myself to smile, attempting to enter in with the joke. In reality, he is starting to wind me up, and he knows it. I can see his little smirk as he notices my clenched fists by my side.
"Tell me about yourself, Willow. Let the audience get to know you. What do you do in your free time at home in District 12?"
"I… um…" I desperately try to think of something, not wishing to tell the audience without letting him know how much I care for my sister and how much of my time is spent with her. No doubt he'd think her a weak point and force me to talk about her, releasing my weakness to my opponents. "I cook," I offer eventually, prompting him and the rest of the hall to burst into laughter again.
I curse myself at this, for it is not my intention to be the comic relief. Instead, I try to cover my steps.
"My family runs a bakery and I cook with my parents so as to learn the trade for when I can take it over," I explain, prompting the audience into a round of 'awws'.
"Ah, so you have ambitions for the future then? Well, we must get you sponsors if you are to even have a chance of returning to this… dream of yours," Virtus says, his smirk still plastered over his features. "A round of applause for our final tribute, if you please!"
The crowd erupts into yet another cheer as I am directed to stand next to Benedict in the long line of tributes at the back of the stage.
As General Virtus closes the show, my fellow District 12 tribute leans over to me from where he's standing to whisper in my ear.
"Ignore him, Willow. You know he still holds feelings from the War. You did well to take some of that so lightly, I don't think I would have managed without lashing back at him. He's just an arrogant bastard."
That last bit makes me laugh and I take hold of his hand and squeeze as a way of thanks. In these last few weeks, I seem to have got much closer to him once I had let myself relax around him. He had been right, I do need some friends in the arena. I feel his answering squeeze just as the cameras stopped rolling and they were motioned by the backstage crew to walk off stage, the lights dimming as the crowd continued to roar.