Shelle McDan- District Four (18)
Mags told me to remember I had to survive, not just fight. I took her advice and took it one step further. I had to win, not just survive. There was more to the Games than fighting and killing. There were interviews to ace and crowds to please. Perhaps most importantly, there were sponsors to win.
Most Careers were aloof and superior with the other Tributes. They taunted them and told them which ones they planned to kill first. I didn't care what order they died in as long as I wasn't in it. I let the cameras catch me smiling at the younger Tributes and teaching spunky kids to hold a sword. Between sessions I mingled with the crowds and smiled like I was just so surprised they wanted to see me.
It's hard to be endearing when you're dressed as a fish. I laughed along with them and held myself just stiff enough that they could see my muscles. My image had to be perfect. I couldn't have them thinking I was just cute. I had to be cute, deadly, and most of all likeable.
Private sessions are make or break moments. I practiced as much for these five minutes as I did for the Bloodbath. There's only so good I can get at fighting, and there's only so much skill can do before luck takes over. What I could perfect was one routine, honed and designed perfectly to show my strengths and hide my weaknesses. I played every second of it flawlessly. I wasn't a good enough fighter to merit a score of 11, but the Gamemakers didn't see my skills. They saw my performance.
By the time the Games started the hard part was over. Lucky for me the Cornucopia was sparsely supplied this year. Food was thin for the Careers, but whatever I needed was a parachute away. I'd go off by myself to "look for food", muse out loud about my favorite dishes, and there they were. Weapons, blankets, food, medicine- my wish was their command.
Of course, appearance alone couldn't win the Games. I learned to use a variety of weapons in the Academy. I was a jack of all and an expert in none. I didn't need to kill someone skillfully. I just needed him dead. I let the people choose what weapon they sent and I saw to it they got a good show. A handful of half-starved Careers was easy picking for their one oddly well-fed member. The rest were actually harder, since I had to find them. Lucky the parachutes so helpful to me were their death warrant. I listened for the chiming, followed the floating white fabric, and did my job. In the end, I didn't win the Games. The Capitol won it for me.
I hope giving Shelle an 11 isn't over the top. It wasn't a 12 and she wasn't the first.
I don't even know what Shelle looks like. I imagined her with black hair and a sarcastic, smirky look about her.