Effie's sleep was riddled with nightmares. Most of it was what she had seen in footage in preparation to come here: executions, floggings, The Hunger Games, and President Snow's face. Throughout the night, though, the nightmares took on an even more terrifying reality: Effie experiencing all these things first-hand.
She felt the sheer terror of looking a peacekeeper in the face while they held their gun to her forehead, the brutal pain of the lash each time it was brought down on her, the fear of running to outlast an opponent, when her failure would mean certain, cruel death. She felt trapped, knowing what she experienced wasn't quite real but not being able to bring herself to escape it. She tried to thrash, tried to scream, but nothing ended the torment. No one came to save her.
When she finally awoke, it took Effie several minutes to slow her breathing. When she was finally able, she got out of bed, had a shower, and tried her best to brush off the memories of the few hours before. She had finished applying her heavy make-up and eating her overly decadent breakfast when there was a knock at the door.
"Good morning," Spurius greeted, as Effie opened the door. He gave her a look up and down before adding, "Or maybe not?"
Effie had applied the same make-up as what she had the day before. Her skin had felt disgusting when she finally took it off the previous night, but she knew that she would have to grow accustomed to it as her new reality. However, clearly this new camouflage of hers couldn't hide the bags under her eyes and the grim look on her face.
"Sorry, I just… didn't sleep well," Effie replied, not bothering to put on the fake accent.
Spurius gave her a sympathetic look, as if he knew exactly what her first night here must have been like. He let the silence linger for a second before deciding to hop right into business. He sat down on the couch and Effie took the seat opposite.
"I want to help you get prepared for your life here as much as possible. There are some things you can't understand from the footage and simulations. You need to hear it first-hand. Experience it yourself. Live amongst these people."
Effie mulled over all the questions that had been stewing inside her since their conversation yesterday.
"Can you please tell me more about my role as an escort? What does that entail?"
Spurius nodded, as if he'd been expecting this question. "So, while the actual Games are on, like they will be in a few weeks, it is your job to go to your district- District 12 in your case- and conduct the Reaping. You read from The Treaty of the Treason, and you pull names from each bowl, and then once they've had their time with their families and guests, you take the tributes back to the train and escort them to the Capitol."
Effie nods, soaking all this in. That didn't sound too bad.
"After they have reached the Capitol, they usually are handed over to their mentors to get prepared for the Games, and you would become kind of like an assistant- making sure they make it to all their training sessions, interviews, to the arena, et cetera. Talk them up to the audience to help them get sponsors. But in District 12's case, they don't have two mentors like the other districts. You would kind of take on the role of the other mentor."
Effie felt like a tonne of bricks had just dropped on her. "Me… like… a mentor?"
Spurius nods. "Nothing much different from what you were doing anyway but you also help coach them. What to wear, what to say, how to act. You get to know them and help them."
Effie was enveloped in a sense of dread. When she was only reaping kids into the Games, it was tragic, but at least she was distant from it. All she had to do was read some names, make sure they made it places on time, and talk them up to the camera. In her role as a 'mentor', she would have to get to know the kids personally. She would bond with them, give them advice, try to help them win. From her training she knew how that usually ended for the poor kids of District 12.
She felt herself begin to hyperventilate; this was all too much for her. She made a mistake in coming here. How could she possibly fulfil her duties when she would have to watch kids die, year after year? When she knew who they were, not just by name, but as people? People with feelings, and fears, and hopes for the future. With families and people who loved them and would miss them when they were gone.
Spurius crossed the room to where Effie was sitting and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He didn't try to use comforting words, to tell her that it would all be alright. Effie was glad because she knew it wouldn't have been true. She let the hand sit there for a moment and managed to bring herself together.
Spurius was right, you can't understand this place just from footage and simulations. Effie had been training for years for this purpose, and it took less than 24 hours for her to completely fall to bits.
Think about why you're doing this, Effie reminded herself. It was good that these things shocked her, horrified her. The whole purpose of her coming here was to help put a stop to The Hunger Games. If she wasn't fuelled by the cruelty of it then she wouldn't complete her duty here. No matter what happened, she had to remain calm, because anything else would result in her being discovered, and failing the mission.
She felt a moment pass and Spurius' hand was still on her shoulder. He quickly pulled his hand away and walked back to the other side of the room. Effie found herself missing his hand. It had brought her a sense of comfort she hadn't really known since before she joined the Intelligence.
She finally spoke. "So, how should I act during the course of the Games?"
Spurius launched into copious detail about what sort of emotions were appropriate to display at different points of the Games. She couldn't be anything but endlessly upbeat, especially during the Reaping. After all, the Capitol don't see the Games as murder but as a celebration, an annual sort of festival. As much as she sympathised with the children she reaped, she could not let it show.
She shouldn't appear to be attuned to the true meaning of the Games. She must seem vague, as if this just another event on the social calendar, not life or death for 24 unfortunate young people. Every minor inconvenience is the end of the world. People in the Capitol want for nothing.
She is allowed to show disappointment when (not if), her tributes die, but nothing more significant than that. She's not to seem sad that they died, she is disappointed because they didn't win.
Effie soaks all of this in, making mental notes and scripts for herself as to what to say for each of the events she must attend. She only has a few weeks until the 72nd Annual Hunger Games were to begin. She must get this right.
In the meantime, she is to attend social events she is invited to, make infrequent appearances in the lead-up to the Hunger Games, and prepare herself for the main event.
Spurius finishes his speech and Effie seems to have it all figured out- in theory anyway. There is one minor thing that still plays at the back of her mind.
"Can you please tell me more about the escort before me?"
"Cassia Heavenbook. She was quite a bit older than you- probably late 30s or early 40s and had been an escort for District 12 for many years. I guess she got sick of always having losing tributes. God knows she complained about it all the time."
"So, she wasn't happy with District 12?"
Spurius shook his head. "No. Like I said yesterday, the escorts of the Hunger Games usually only do it because they want to be invited to all the exclusive parties the winner gets into. Escorting a winner really raises your social capital, and here that means everything. District 12 hasn't had a winner since the 50th Games- and wait until you meet Haymitch, he doesn't really seem worth knowing anyway."
"I guess that makes sense. Who did she complain to?"
"Anyone who would listen! Other escorts, Haymitch, the stylists. She even once told the tributes to their faces she was sicking of having a district that would always lose."
"Wow," Effie said. She knew the people of the Capitol didn't think of the Games the same way, but she never knew they could be that cold.
"Eventually it came to a head when she decided that she would not be going back to District 12, no matter what. She told the Gamemakers that they had to place her in a new district. And, well… you know how that turned out."
"Okay… so, I should pretend I'm happy with my District to avoid the same fate?" Effie asked.
"Not at all. Everyone wants to be in the higher districts, they just don't go so far as to demand it. You should absolutely make it seem like you want to be promoted, just don't do what she did and get yourself disposed of."
Disposed of. Such a cruel way of phrasing it, yet, probably the most succinct.
Effie and Spurius wrapped up their conversation, he wished her good luck and told her he'd check in on her periodically, when it's safe. He gave her another kiss on the cheek and hurried out the door.
Effie turned on the TV and found old footage of one of the Reapings and rehearsed her endlessly upbeat attitude she had merely weeks to perfect.