dnf, but it's hunger games

-six

Avoxes swish past me, some stopping to fix my limited makeup or straighten the dark green tie around my neck.

the theme that Alyssa is going for is naturally handsome. the tiniest bit of eyeliner, my hair is barely styled, and my clothes are simple. a suit and tie, the suit jacket black and the tie green. she also got my ears pierced with little silver studs that shine in the spotlight. she told me that they match my smile.

and now, i'm fully dressed and prepared for the interview happening in about 20 minutes. for now, me and Tommy are waiting in our district 11 suite on a multiple level tower for all the tributes.

i'm finally released from Alyssa's hold and sent out into the living area, where Charlie is pacing back and forth on the lush carpet and muttering to himself. he looks extremely nervous, despite being well put together. Tommy is on the couch staring at his hands, wearing a similar outfit to mine. i never got to meet his stylist, but they've put him into a cloudy grey button up and ink black dress pants.

Charlie stops pacing the room and looks to me. his face melts from stressed and tight to a calm, relieved expression.

"well, you look wonderful!" he exclaims. i smile with the quickest flash of teeth i've ever given.

Charlie walks up to me and opens his hand, displaying several thick, black rings etched with designs. he picks out one that has a series of moon cycles inlaid into the metal and hands it to me.

i raise an eyebrow warily and place it on my right index finger. it fits perfectly, snug enough to stay on but loose enough to let blood flow.

"only in darkness can you see the stars, Martin Luther King Jr." Charlie quips. the quote doesn't seem familiar, but it sounds well used on his tongue.

i nod, my lips tight, and let my mind run rampant for the next ten minutes.

several questions.

one, i still don't know the play i'm going for here. Alyssa said i was quite talented and athletic, and an eye catcher too, but that doesn't do much for my speaking skills. Tommy's been my only friend for the longest time. other than that, it's the limited pieces of affection that i let seep through my cracks to my family, or the woman that sells the good beef stew.

two, i don't know who the host is. last year, it was some mild old woman with deep, ancient wrinkles and some insanely long name, but i don't fully remember how much they let the tributes say, or how much we get to move and reveal and shit like that. but that woman died about two months after the Games ended, and they put into action the ballot for a new host.

they don't tell the districts who the new host is, let alone 11, the least favourite. what if they're not easygoing? what if they're like the lady who drew my name; stone cold and kept back?

what if nobody likes me, and i'm left in the arena by myself with no sponsors and no bets or reputation to put over my head?

these two thoughts get wrung and squeezed dry of all possibilities in my head, even as Charlie escorts me to the limo with the black tinted windows and the stuff seats.

i can feel Tommy's concerned gaze fixed straight on me, but i choose to ignore it.

the interviews are held in a huge, circular stadium that can house about 15,000 people. the Capitol folk that don't get the juicy chance of watching children spill their hearts out for cash and gifts have to watch it at home instead.

we're not brought in through the main doors. instead, our limo is lead to a back alley and into a garage building. peacekeepers line the doorway as we climb out and make our way to the backstage area. i can feel their eyes track me, as if i'm some criminal needing to be watched over constantly.