CHAPTER 4. The Interview.
Katniss was back on the Town Square. A whole week had gone by since the last time she'd been there. The façade of the Justice Building had, once again, been covered with large screens.
The Games were scheduled to begin the next day. They would be projected onto the wall of the public square every day while they lasted.
Katniss crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. It had been a long week, filled with physical activity, anxiety, and not enough sleep.
Next to her, Gale talked to Rory and Prim. The "hatchlings," as Gale called them, had decided they wanted to watch the interviews with their friends.
Gale was trying to act like it bothered him that they didn't wish to spend any time with their older siblings, but he wasn't a good enough actor. Everyone knew he didn't really mind.
Eventually, Prim addressed her sister. "So, is it ok, Katniss? We're just going to be watching from over there," she said, pointing towards the left side of the building.
Katniss smiled. "Sure, Little Duck. It's ok. I'll be here if you need anything, alright?"
Prim flashed a toothy smile and hugged her sister. "I'll see you later!" she said, pulling away. "Come on Rory, let's go!"
With a nod, Rory followed Prim as she made her way through the crowd which was quickly gathering around them.
The Town Square was fuller than Katniss had ever seen it. It made sense; the summer heat drove everyone outside, and the big screens were much better than most people's TVs.
District 12's performance during the Tribute Parade, and the announcement of the final scores the previous night, had also contributed to the large turnout.
After spending the better part of a week speculating and coming up with wild theories, the Capitol newscasters had finally been authorized to deliver some accurate information.
The final scores were supposed to reflect a tribute's overall skills. Sponsors usually used them as guidelines to determine whether a tribute should be sponsored or not. Most people didn't want to waste their money on someone who wasn't likely to win; unless they were playing to back a long shot, but most people preferred to bet on a sure thing.
Tributes from District 12 were never considered a sure thing.
Most tributes from the mining district were dangerously malnourished and had no fighting or survival skills. A sad fact which turned them into easy kills once the Games began. They usually didn't survive more than a few hours inside the arena.
To add insult to injury, the only living victor the district had, one Haymitch Abernathy, was also a consummate drunk. Which meant tributes had little to no guidance when it came to planning strategies or learning how to manage their assets inside the arena.
Just like everything else so far, the final scores were a complete surprise this time around.
Tessa's score hadn't been very high. But still, a five out of twelve was far better than the two or three most Seam children usually got.
According to some of the conversations Katniss had overheard during her visits to the Meadow, Tessa was a fast runner.
Katniss wondered whether that had been considered in Tessa's evaluation. Was that a good enough reason to give her one of the highest scores in the history of her district? She didn't know.
But, while Tessa's score had given way to some speculation, what had truly turned everyone's heads around, had been Peeta's score. He'd gotten an eight. An eight!
Claudius Templesmith and his team of experts were hardly able to control their enthusiasm as they tried to guess what the baker's son might have done to warrant such a high score.
For once, Katniss didn't need to guess or speculate. Unlike the Capitol's so-called "experts," she knew what Peeta's skills were.
He was strong. She had seen him around the market, hauling heavy bags of flour over his shoulder like they weighed nothing, more than once.
And he was a good wrestler. A great one even! She still remembered how he'd managed to beat everyone in their school's wrestling tournament. Well, everyone except for his brother.
The game makers had probably taken this into account. Besides, Peeta might have even developed some new skills during his training sessions. Weren't newscasters constantly talking about all the opportunities tributes had to learn while they were in the training center?
Katniss had spent all week worrying but, as soon as she'd seen Peeta's face flashing on the TV screen with a bright large "eight" covering his sweet smile, she'd felt that warm, fuzzy feeling she recognized as hope taking root in her once again.
That night she'd slept without interruptions for the first time since the reaping.
The lights were dimmed around the square.
After a short beep, Caesar Flickerman's bright smile flashed on the screen.
"Oh, wow! He's blue this year!" Gale sniggered.
"Well, at least he doesn't look like he's dripping blood." Katniss's stomach churned unpleasantly at the memory of the aging anchor's outfit choice for the previous year's Games.
Caesar's show followed the same format every year. He always began the broadcast with, what he believed, were witty remarks. Katniss often wondered whether people in the Capitol laughed at his jokes for real. She didn't think that they were all that funny.
After a few minutes of lighthearted banter with the audience, Caesar asked the tributes to join him on the stage. Each tribute had three minutes to make a lasting impression on any potential sponsors.
According to the broadcasters, doing well in the interview was almost as important as getting a good score at the training center. A number was faceless and impersonal, but the interviews provided tributes with an opportunity to appeal to their audiences face to face. Tributes who were charming or attractive usually landed supporters, even when they lacked other skills.
The female tribute from District 1 was the first to join Caesar.
"Baba boom!" Gale blurted out as the blond, curvaceous girl sauntered onto the stage. "She's not leaving much to the imagination, is she?"
Katniss felt her cheeks redden. Nudity and sex were common enough during the Games. Most people were used to watching half-naked bodies prancing around their television set, but she wasn't like most people. She couldn't help it if all that exposed skin made her uncomfortable. She shrugged in a vain attempt to hide her discomfort.
Gale chuckled. "You're such a prude," he declared.
"I'm not a prude," Katniss grumbled.
Gale raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, I have no problems with who you are. Besides, I don't think nudity fits into your lifestyle."
Katniss smirked. Prancing through the forest wearing nothing didn't seem very appealing. It probably wasn't healthy to expose your skin to all those bushes and brambles, anyway. "That's right, it doesn't," she accepted, satisfied with her friend's response.
The girl, her name was Glimmer, spent her interview pouting suggestively and batting her eyelashes at Caesar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the anchor was probably old enough to be her grandfather.
Her three minutes were almost up when Katniss spoke again. "She's just using her body to distract us from the fact that she's a trained killer, you know?"
Gale nodded. "I know."
One by one all the tributes walked onto the stage.
What was commonly known as the "career pack" brought no surprises. They were arrogant and bloodthirsty, all too eager for the Games to begin.
The male tribute from District 2 was the tallest and strongest of the bunch. His steely blue eyes and arrogant smirk made Katniss want to throw up.
His district partner, a dark-haired beauty called Clove, oozed confidence and had a mean streak that put his muscles to shame. Whatever her secret skills were, she seemed to think the victory was well within her reach.
The girl from District 5 wore a dark green dress which contrasted dramatically with her red hair and pale skin. She sat very still and paid close attention to everything Caesar said.
"Do you still think she's smart?" Katniss asked Gale in a hushed voice once the interview was over.
He nodded. "Yeah. I think she's very observant. She didn't get a high score, though. And she's not strong, so I'm guessing she's going to find a hiding place and keep tabs on everyone from there."
Katniss agreed, that sounded like a sound strategy for the fox-faced girl.
Tributes came and went. They walked towards Caesar. They sat down. They answered his questions. They waited for their time to run out. They disappeared backstage.
Katniss almost choked when Caesar introduced Rue, the small girl from District 11.
The young tribute looked like a butterfly skipping onto the stage in a blue gossamer dress adorned with wings.
Katniss watched entranced as the twelve-year-old talked to the interviewer. She was small, but she stood her ground. There was a quiet strength about her.
When Caesar asked her about her score, she looked straight into the camera and said, "I'm very hard to catch. And, if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."
Katniss couldn't help the smile that curved her lips when she heard the statement. Who would have thought of such a small, fragile being challenging the all mighty careers?
They were all muscles, but Rue's spirit was stronger than theirs. She had known hardship and, unlike the careers who came from richer districts and had never wanted for anything, she'd spent all her life fighting to survive.
Sadly, Katniss knew Rue would need much more than a resilient spirit if she ever came face to face with her competitors.
The small smile fell quickly from Katniss's lips, and she turned to face the ground. She sighed, feeling hopeless all of a sudden.
Gale's hand on her shoulder comforted her. He squeezed once, gently. "She's not Prim," he whispered.
"I know. But still–"
"Yeah, I know."
The sound of Gale gasping a moment later brought her eyes back to the screen.
The massive frame of Rue's district partner covered the wall in front of her, he was imposing, standing well above Caesar's height.
His lips were set in a straight line. He refused to sit on the chair Caesar offered, and he kept his arms crossed in front of him as he answered every question with one monosyllable or less.
Katniss had never seen Caesar work so hard to get so little out of a tribute.
For the second time that night, she found herself admiring District Eleven's strength and dignity.
"Last, but not least," Caesar intoned, "it's time to welcome the tributes from District 12."
The audience in the studio clapped enthusiastically.
Back in District 12, the crowd stood still. Every pair of eyes was glued to the screen.
"Miss Tessa Monroe, please come up onto the stage!"
Tessa came into view. Surprised gasps and sounds of admiration filled the square.
Tessa's red dress was covered with thousands of shimmering beads which reflected the lights surrounding Caesar's stage. It made her look like the flame of a candle, flickering softly with every step she took.
The crowd settled down and listened intently while Caesar interviewed the shimmering girl.
Tessa's voice was soft and pleasant. She spoke with the melodic intonation that was typical of the Seam, and she smiled pleasantly as she described the things she liked about the Capitol.
Her eyes grew wide as she recalled her favorite food; something she called "hot chocolate."
The Capitol audience clapped in agreement.
With a sweet smile, Tessa turned to look at her hands, daintily entwined on her lap. A soft blush crept up her cheeks as she added, "and my other favorite thing about the Capitol has been meeting Cinna."
"Cinna? Your stylist?" Caesar questioned, clearly intrigued by the girl's answer. "And, why is that Tessa?" he prodded.
"Well, just look at the beautiful gown he made for me!" she gushed.
The audience clapped their appreciation.
Tessa smiled some more and talked about how she'd always been interested in clothes and fashion. Her eyes turned sad when she mentioned her mother, who was one of the seamstresses that worked for the mines in District Twelve.
Everyone in District 12 knew the job consisted mostly of sewing and repairing the miner's tattered work clothes, but the way Tessa talked about it made it sound like the miners were the best-dressed workers in all of Panem.
The audience in the Capitol seemed to hang on Tessa's every word, evidently entranced by the beautiful girl who shone. She was like a pure gem which had been extracted from the deepest recesses of a dark coal mine.
Tessa's time was almost up, so Caesar made one last request.
"Could you twirl before you leave?" he asked. "I think the audience would like to see the beautiful dress you're wearing in all of its glory."
Tessa stood up. A lovely smile danced on her lips as she gracefully twirled in place.
All of Panem gasped as the hem of Tessa's dress came to life, glowing like a bonfire around her calves.
In the Capitol, the crowd went mad. People clapped and yelled enthusiastically as Tessa seemed to be consumed by fire.
"Tessa Monroe, everyone!" Caesar beamed. "Our beautiful diamond in the rough. Best of luck to you, Miss Monroe! I hope we'll meet again."
The crowd had barely settled down after Tessa's interview when Caesar announced. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the last tribute of the night. Please welcome, all the way from District 12, Mr. Peeta Mellark!"
A new round of applause exploded in the studio.
Peeta appeared on the screen. His steps resounded loudly on the stage and echoed through speakers all over Panem.
Peeta smiled brightly as he extended his hand for the anchor to shake.
Katniss's mouth went dry at the sight of him. He was wearing a black suit which had been tailored to hug his broad shoulders perfectly.
The red and gold accents on his lapel matched the flames on Tessa's dress, making Madge's gold pin look like a bird enveloped by fire. The carefully styled waves on his ashy blond hair reflected the lights which surrounded him, making him glow.
He couldn't have been more different than Tessa and still, looking at their outfits, there was no doubt they were meant to be seen as a pair. Their stylists had turned them into a team once more.
Katniss's hands began to sweat as the seasoned presenter asked Peeta about his time in the Capitol.
It was a pretty standard question, one that Caesar had used more than once throughout the night, and one which tributes often answered by mentioning their favorite food or by talking about some of the Capitol's most famous sights. The City Circle, the president's mansion, and the central justice building were customarily mentioned.
In truth, most tributes were too worried or nervous to come up with any new ideas.
Panem was about to discover that Peeta Mellark wasn't like most tributes.
Smiling directly at the camera, Peeta answered Caesar's question with a fun anecdote about him slipping in the shower and spraying rose-scented soap all over himself while he tried to keep from falling.
Katniss had never heard his voice so clearly before. It was deep and modulated. It washed over her like a balm, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her.
Back on the stage, Caesar was beside himself. He couldn't stop laughing, and he happily obliged when Peeta asked if he could take a whiff and tell him what he smelled like.
The audience went mad, clapping, laughing, and whistling even as they encouraged the tribute to share more of his stories.
Over the next minute, Peeta spoke practically uninterrupted.
Caesar and the rest of Panem listened enraptured as the baker's son gave a rundown of all of his competitors and compared them to the bread from their home districts.
Katniss hung to his every word.
Peeta's voice was thick and sweet, almost like warm honey dripping from his lips. It made her head fuzzy and her knees weak. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to store it in her memory.
Peeta's time had almost run out when Caesar asked his last question. "So tell me, Peeta, a handsome, charming lad like you… You must have a girl back home, right?" The anchor's eyes twinkled, full of mischief.
For a second Peeta's face grew serious, his blue eyes clouded over and he pulled them away from the camera's eye.
Katniss held her breath. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably making her nauseous, but she couldn't pry her eyes away from the screen.
Peeta's cheeks reddened slightly, and he smiled once more. His smile, sweet with just a hint of shyness, sent an unexpected rush of warmth through Katniss's body.
Peeta shook his head a few times as he finally answered. "No, there's no one."
Katniss sighed.
"Well, I for one find that very hard to believe!" Caesar declared.
"Let me ask you something, Caesar," Peeta countered. "Have you ever worked in a bakery?"
"Well, no. I can't say that I have. What is it like?"
"It's a lot of work!" Peeta exclaimed with a smile so bright one might think he was talking about relaxing in front of the fire and not toiling in front of an oven.
Caesar chuckled. "So, what you're saying is that you haven't had any time for girls?"
"That's right."
Caesar tapped his chin with his index finger and narrowed his eyes as he pretended to give Peeta's situation some serious thought. A couple of seconds later he declared. "Well, my boy, I think I have a solution for your predicament."
"You do?" Peeta's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yes! Listen, this is what you do…" Caesar leaned forward as if he was about to share a secret with his friend, and not about to divulge some personal advice on national television. "You win this thing and go back!" he proclaimed, slapping Peeta's knee in the process. "You'll have all the free time in the world then!" he added.
"That sounds like a great plan," Peeta answered, seemingly considering the suggestion. "Thank you, Caesar."
XXXXX
Katniss held Prim's hand as they walked back to the Seam. Gale and Rory kept them company.
All around them, people were talking about the show they'd just seen. Excited voices recalled the highlights of the night.
Glimmer's sexy outfit, Clove's evil glare and District 3's twitchiness on the stage were on everyone's lips. But, more than anything, people talked about Tessa and Peeta, their tributes.
Tessa's sweetness and grace had made an impression on the district.
Prim giggled excitedly as she recalled the way Tessa's hemline had caught fire. Her free hand fluttered around her as she mimicked the tribute's movements. And even Rory, who was usually taciturn and prickly, praised Tessa's elegance and the beauty of her smile.
Small bouts of laughter could be heard throughout the district as people recounted Peeta's anecdotes. Most people still couldn't believe he had made the Capitol sound human and relatable, a place where absurd things could happen.
According to the oldest among the crowd, no one had ever done that before.
People in the districts were taught from an early age to respect the Capitol. They were supposed to admire and obey it. Tributes and presenters talked about the most important city in the country with awe, their stories always imbued with respectful reverence. But Peeta's comments hadn't been respectful or reverent. He had mocked their extravagant lifestyle and had exposed their sophistication, making them sound vain and ridiculous. What was incredible was that they had loved him for it.
Audiences in the Capitol seemed to have fallen in love with his sweet, innocent smile and easygoing nature. They had listened and laughed and rejoiced, and for once, the people in District 12 had wholeheartedly joined them.
Katniss briefly wondered what the other districts were thinking. Had they connected with the baker's son in the same way people around her had? Had the Capitol and all twelve districts laughed at the same joke?
The notion was somewhat unsettling. Unity between districts was practically unheard of, and it was usually mentioned to reference the dark days. That miserable period which had led to the disastrous civil war that had divided the nation, creating enough animosity between the districts to give birth to the Hunger Games.
Suddenly, Gale shook his head, a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. The sound caught Katniss's attention.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"I was just thinking how, for a second there, I thought bread boy was going to say he was in love with Tessa."
A cold chill ran along Katniss's spine. She scowled. "Why would you think that?" she demanded.
"Well, we've seen them together all week long. Old Man Abernathy seems intent on presenting them as a bundle deal. So, I figured maybe it was a strategy. Sell a sappy story to the Capitol fools. They love that kind of thing! Forbidden, unrequited love, most Capitol shows are about that," he finished; a smug smile perched on his lips.
"You watch Capitol shows?" Prim exclaimed, evidently amused by the revelation.
"No!" Gale denied in a tone that was suspiciously high pitched. "My mother does. And Posy, she loves that stuff!"
"Uh-huh, I bet she does," Prim sniggered.
"Anyway," Katniss interrupted. As much as she liked making fun of her best friend for watching TV in his free time, she had more pressing matters on her mind. She turned to face him. "You know, Capitol TV shows notwithstanding, I think that's the dumbest theory you've ever come up with."
"Is that so?" Gale replied, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.
"Yes! That romantic angle wouldn't have gotten them very far inside the arena. Or have you forgotten? Twenty-four tributes go in, but only ONE comes out," she explained, pointing her index finger into the sky for added emphasis. "And, I don't see the gamemakers changing that particular rule anytime soon."
Gale huffed. "Well, you do have a point there," he conceded. "You may be right. But, mark my words Catnip, that Mellark kid, he's a smart one. You saw what he did tonight. How he had everyone eating from the palm of his hand. I don't know if that's enough to win a game, but he's definitely not going down without a fight. You can bet he has some sort of plan up his sleeve."
XXXXX
Katniss had been lying in bed for a while. The damp summer air hung to her body, making the thin sheets stick to her limbs.
She was tired, she knew she needed to rest, but her mind just wouldn't shut down. She kept thinking about everything she'd heard that night. The tributes' interviews, the people's comments, Gale's theories, they all kept dancing inside her head.
How was she supposed to sleep when there was so much going on?
She closed her eyes and tried to focus on cool relaxing things. The crisp autumn breeze which filled her lungs with energy, the shimmering waters of the freshwater lake that waited for her on the far side of the woods, the shade of a maple tree by the Meadow, the soft notes of Peeta's deep voice washing over her…
Her eyes snapped open. Peeta.
For maybe the thousandth time that night she wondered how he was doing. Was he getting any sleep? Or was he lying in bed, anxiously tossing and turning as he tried to guess what kind of arena he'd be sent into?
She wondered whether it would it make a difference. Being inside a city in ruins was probably just as horrible as being in a desert or a forest when you were fighting for your life. Besides, they weren't even real cities or deserts, they were stages, filled with death traps that had but one objective: to end the tribute's lives.
The words from her conversation with Gale came flying back to her: only one comes out.
The thought sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach, making her nauseous and lightheaded.
All those tributes, the floozy from 1, the fox-faced girl from 5, and young Rue, the resilient butterfly from 11. They would all have to die if Peeta was to come home.
Only one comes out.
Her mind kept spinning as she thought about all those people, all those wasted lives. All those dreams that would never be because someone somewhere had decided they needed to pay for other people's crimes.
Suddenly, her mind stopped racing, and everything came into focus.
In that moment of absolute clarity, she knew those losses would be sad; each and every one of them would fill someone somewhere with sorrow. But those people and their dreams were not connected to her.
The notion wasn't very generous, and she wasn't particularly proud of it, but it was honest and real. And, frankly, at this point, she couldn't be too picky.
She hadn't made up the rules. She hadn't put the tributes' names inside the reaping bowl, and she wasn't responsible for any of this.
She didn't owe Rue or the fox-faced girl anything.
She didn't even know them!
But she knew Peeta. And, if only one could come out, she wasn't going to apologize for wishing it was him.
XXXXX
AN. I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.
I love reviews as much as Effie loves good manners. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!
You can also find me on Tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
The Hunger Games Trilogy is the property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.