Chapter 20

NARRATOR | Heather Sullivan, District 9

I watch in the mirror as my stylist pins one last strand of my hair back. I'm in a shimmery yellow dress that's so ugly, it's hard to look away from. The color is nauseating, but it'll definitely be eye-catching, which is what I need right now.

"Alright, dear," my stylist sighs. She introduced herself by some long name when we first met, and I've already forgotten it. "Go out there and shine."

That shouldn't be hard in this dress. I slip out a quick word of thanks before I'm ushered out the door.

When I step out into the hallway, Easton is waiting for me. I'm not surprised - he seems to follow me wherever I go. I found it annoying at first, but I've grown used to it now. Having him around gives me some sort of security, and I'd feel lonely without him.

Portia, our Capitol escort, lets out an unnatural screech when she sees me. She's wearing another straw dress like the one she wore at the Reaping, but this one is even more overdone than the last. "Oh, Heather!" she squeals. "This is... just magnificent!"

"Thanks, Portia," I sigh with a small smile. I'm trying not to let my sour mood show on my face - today's been a rough day from the start, and it's only going to get harder once the interviews start.

"You look great," Easton echoes with a shy smile on his face. "Let's go - wouldn't want to be late."

Easton offers me his elbow, and I take it as we follow Portia down the hallway.

"Good luck, both of you!" Portia cheers, wiping her eyes. "Don't forget our training, alright?"

How could we forget the hours we spent this morning working on my posture? "We won't," I reassure our escort before we step through the doorway.

Most of the other tributes are here, lined up in their appropriate spots. The pair from Twelve watch us as we pass; in front of them, the girl from Eleven is adjusting her District partner's tie. I notice that a group of tributes have gathered in the far corner of the room, away from the line of tributes. It's Violet and her little group of friends, probably having a pep talk before the interviews start.

"Hey, come here," Easton mutters in my ear, pulling me over to the empty corner.

"What's going on with you?" my District partner asks, studying my face carefully. "Something's been off all day, I can tell. You know you can talk to me, right?"

Of course I know I can talk to Easton - we're going to be fighting for our lives together in a matter of hours. Still, things haven't been smooth sailing with us the whole way through. I can't forget that he volunteered to be here to protect me, and that puts me in an awkward spot. Things were weird between us at first, but we wordlessly moved past all of that once training started. We still haven't talked about what our relationship is, though. And we're about to display it on stage for the world to see.

"I'm just not a fan of this whole... situation," I say, waving my hand at the tributes lined up over Easton's shoulder. "These interviews. We have to be people we're not and I hate it."

"They're gonna love you, Heather," Easton says, missing my point. "Don't worry about it, really. We're going to be okay."

"It's not about that," I sigh, frustrated. "I don't like this whole storyline we've been forced into, okay? I don't like that I've become the damsel in distress because you decided to come to save me in the Reaping. And Rye kept drilling it into my head this morning that we have to play into this story, that it's the only way to get sponsors... but is that really the way I want the whole country to see me?"

"Rye knows what he's doing," Easton says quietly, his eyes pointed at our shoes. "But I understand your point."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that you're here," I jump in, resting my hand on Easton's arm. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here, Easton. But I feel like we're being forced into this box just because it's what the audience wants to see."

"Well, what do you want to do?" Easton asks, glancing up to look at me. "You have a say in this too."

"Well, this is our one chance to speak to the whole nation like this, and I want to make it count." These are the same words I said to my mentor, Rye, this morning. "I've worked so hard at school so that I could advocate for people who need it. So many kids in Nine had to drop out of school because of the cost, and they had no choice but to go into the fields. You included, Easton. And the Capitol's not doing anything about it."

"Okay," Easton says, his eyes shifting from side to side. "What does that mean for me, though? There's nothing special about me. I'm just some wheat farmer."

"You're not," I tell him, "but it doesn't matter. I'm not doing any of that. Rye convinced me otherwise."

I shudder thinking of Rye's rant this morning. He didn't hold anything back, and he forced me to grow up and learn a few things.

These Games are an illusion, Heather. You may think they're just games because that's what the Gamemakers want the Capitol to think. But these Games have connections across Panem that you couldn't begin to imagine. Take one step out of line, and the Gamemakers will kill you without a second thought. You are just another piece on the board to them, and one more piece lost in a hundred-year-old game means absolutely nothing.

These Games are a monumental beast, and I've only just begun to realize what I've become tangled up in. I have to play the character that is required of me; my life depends on it.

"So, damsel in distress it is," Easton sighs. "You know how I feel about that nickname, though."

"We can't control how people see us in all of this," I shrug. "That's how it is."

"I'm sorry to put you in a position like this," Easton says, his brow furrowed. "I know you don't like the way all of this is being talked about. When I volunteered, I didn't think about all of that. I just... I care a lot about you, Heather. You care so much for other people and never allow that same care for yourself."

Here it is, out on the table. Easton and I haven't really talked about the Reaping since it happened, but late is better than never. We'll have to talk about it on-stage in a few minutes, anyway.

"I'm so grateful for you, Easton, really," say, trying to be as reassuring as possible. "It's just... I was chosen to be here. It was unlucky, but it happened. You weren't even Reaped, and I feel like it's my fault that you're here. I know that I wouldn't have a chance in here if you weren't here, but I'd rather have that than this. I feel like I'm dragging you to your own death."

"I chose to be here," Easton says firmly, his eyes set on me. "Heather, I don't know what to tell you. Everything we've just talked about is the reason why I'm here. Everything you worked for back in Nine, it was for people like me. When those Peacekeepers had me cornered by the warehouse, you saved me from getting beaten for a crime I didn't commit. Most people wouldn't interfere with Peacekeepers like that. Most people would've just let them lock me up."

My stomach is turning as Easton talks. I know that I've helped him in the past, but it was the right thing to do. We were classmates when we were kids, and I knew I had to help him. Why doesn't he understand that one small favor doesn't mean that he should give up his life to protect me?

"If you came here to pay me back for that, we're even now," I sigh. "I want you to promise me something, though. You're a tribute in these Games just as much as me, and I want you to act like one. You have just as much of a chance of making it out of here as I do, so the sacrifices need to stop. I don't want to feel like you're protecting me in here; we're a team. Okay?"

"Okay," Easton nods, a small smile breaking out on his face. "Deal."

"Everyone in line!" one of the Peacekeepers shouts from the doorway, startling Easton and me. "Show's about to begin!"

Easton grabs my arm, leading me to the line of tributes. I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders; if Easton can treat me as his equal, I have faith that we can go far in the Games.

"Good luck," Easton whispers as the kids from Ten file in behind us.

I give my partner's hand a squeeze. Our relationship has been so up and down since the Reaping that I don't know what to call it, but I know that Easton and I have the one thing that matters: trust. That trust is the only thing keeping me going right now; I have kill this interview, not just for me, but for both of us. Our lives will depend on it.